Man in the Iron Mask (essay) | Page 3

it may be replied that the learned
on their part sacrifice a great deal to their love of dates, more or less
exact; to their desire to elucidate some point which had hitherto been
considered obscure, and which their explanations do not always clear
up; to the temptation to display their proficiency in the ingenious art of
manipulating facts and figures culled from a dozen musty volumes into
one consistent whole.
Our interest in this strange case of imprisonment arises, not alone from
its completeness and duration, but also from our uncertainty as to the
motives from which it was inflicted. Where erudition alone cannot
suffice; where bookworm after bookworm, disdaining the conjectures
of his predecessors, comes forward with a new theory founded on some
forgotten document he has hunted out, only to find himself in his turn
pushed into oblivion by some follower in his track, we must turn for
guidance to some other light than that of scholarship; especially if, on
strict investigation, we find that not one learned solution rests on a
sound basis of fact.

In the question before us, which, as we said before, is a double one,
asking not only who was the Man in the Iron Mask, but why he was
relentlessly subjected to this torture till the moment of his death, what
we need in order to restrain our fancy is mathematical demonstration,
and not philosophical induction.
While I do not go so far as to assert positively that Abbe Soulavie has
once for all lifted the veil which hid the truth, I am yet persuaded that
no other system of research is superior to his, and that no other
suggested solution has so many presumptions in its favour. I have not
reached this firm conviction on account of the great and prolonged
success of our drama, but because of the ease with which all the
opinions adverse to those of the abbe may be annihilated by pitting
them one against the other.
The qualities that make for success being quite different in a novel and
in a drama, I could easily have founded a romance on the fictitious
loves of Buckingham and the queen, or on a supposed secret marriage
between her and Cardinal Mazarin, calling to my aid a work by
Saint-Mihiel which the bibliophile declares he has never read, although
it is assuredly neither rare nor difficult of access. I might also have
merely expanded my drama, restoring to the personages therein their
true names and relative positions, both of which the exigencies of the
stage had sometimes obliged me to alter, and while allowing them to
fill the same parts, making them act more in accordance with historical
fact. No fable however far-fetched, no grouping of characters however
improbable, can, however, destroy the interest which the innumerable
writings about the Iron Mask excite, although no two agree in details,
and although each author and each witness declares himself in
possession of complete knowledge. No work, however mediocre,
however worthless even, which has appeared on this subject has ever
failed of success, not even, for example, the strange jumble of
Chevalier de Mouhy, a kind of literary braggart, who was in the pay of
Voltaire, and whose work was published anonymously in 1746 by
Pierre de Hondt of The Hague. It is divided into six short parts, and
bears the title, 'Le Masque de Fer, ou les Aventures admirables du Prre
et du Fils'. An absurd romance by Regnault Warin, and one at least
equally absurd by Madame Guenard, met with a like favourable
reception. In writing for the theatre, an author must choose one view of

a dramatic situation to the exclusion of all others, and in following out
this central idea is obliged by the inexorable laws of logic to push aside
everything that interferes with its development. A book, on the contrary,
is written to be discussed; it brings under the notice of the reader all the
evidence produced at a trial which has as yet not reached a definite
conclusion, and which in the case before us will never reach it, unless,
which is most improbable, some lucky chance should lead to some new
discovery.
The first mention of the prisoner is to be found in the 'Memoires secrets
pour servir a l'Histoire de Perse' in one 12mo volume, by an
anonymous author, published by the 'Compagnie des Libraires
Associes d'Amsterdam' in 1745.
"Not having any other purpose," says the author (page 20, 2nd edit.),
"than to relate facts which are not known, or about which no one has
written, or about which it is impossible to be silent, we refer at once to
a fact which has hitherto almost escaped notice concerning Prince
Giafer (Louis de Bourbon, Comte de Vermandois, son of Louis XIV
and Mademoiselle