Chapter XVIII: From the Diary of the Man in the Iron Mask

_Pignerol, August_ 21, 1669.--Have at last, I think, attained my heart's desire. Arrived last night under the pseudonym of _Eustache Danger_. Found everything fairly satisfactory. That is to say, the King's promises to me with regard to the absolute solitude I crave have been carried out as far as was possible in the time. The prison is not finished, and this accounts for a fact which annoyed me not a little on my arrival. I found that the walls of my room were not of the thickness promised, so that, should any one be lodged next door to me, which Heaven forfend! he might have the bad taste to try and communicate with me by knocking on the wall. I wear a black velvet mask and the King solemnly promised me that if any officer were to dare to ask me who I was he would be instantly dismissed.

_August_ 22, 1669.--So far so good. Saint Mars, the Governor of the Prison, is certainly doing his best. But last night, when he brought me my dinner, he forgot himself and said, "Bon Soir, Monsieur." If he does this again he will have to be removed. I did not come here to be bothered with conversation.

_August_ 25.--I am enjoying myself immensely. The relief of waking up in the morning and of gradually becoming conscious that it will not be necessary--

(_a_) To dress in Court clothes.

(_b_) To go out hunting.

(_c_) To attend the King's _lever_, or still worse, his _coucher_.

(_d_) To play cards and lose.

(_e_) To listen to a play performed in a private house.

(_f_) To laugh at Madame ----'s chaff.

(_g_) To make love to J----.

(_h_) To pretend to enjoy the beauties of nature.

(_i_) To hear and give opinions on Molière.

(_j_) To sit through the long, long dinner.

(_k_) To talk philosophy with Mademoiselle.

(_l_) To find fault with my servant for giving me the wrong stockings.

(_m_) To wait for hours in the crown of the _Œil-de-Bœuf_.

(_n_) To be taken to the window by the English Ambassador and asked if I think the Spaniards really mean business.

(_o_) To talk internal politics with Louvois.

(_p_) To listen to Le Nôtre's account of Lord Carlisle's new garden.

(_q_) To listen to Bossuet's sermon on Sunday.

(_r_) Not to annoy the Duchesse de La Vallière.

(_s_) To have to look as if I thought the King an amusing conversationalist.

(_t_) To say that a _Bal Masqué_ is great fun.

(_u_) To go to the opera at the back of a box.

(_v_) To pretend I like Dutch pictures.

(_w_) To dance all night in a room like a monkey cage.

(_x_) To read the Gazette.

(_y_) To be civil to the German Ambassadress.

(_z_) To change my clothes three times a day.

That is my alphabet of negation. It is incomplete. Yet to write it and read it over and over again fills me with ecstasy.

_March_, 1670.--A most annoying incident happened to-day. The upper tower, at the western angle of the Castle, is occupied by Fouquet and Lauzun. The King promised me solemnly that neither of them should be allowed to hold any communication with me. To-day one of Fouquet's servants entered my room and spoke to me, asking me whether I had anything of importance to communicate. I told him very sharply to go to the devil. If this happens again I shall ask to be moved to a quieter prison.

It is extraordinary that even in a place like this one cannot be free from the importunity and the impertinence of human curiosity.

_April_ 3, 1670.--As the days go on, I enjoy myself more and more. A cargo of books arrived yesterday from Paris, sent by the King, but Saint Mars had the good sense not to bring them to me. He merely notified the fact on a slip of paper, which he left on my plate. I scribbled a note to the effect that he could throw them to the bottom of the sea, or read them himself, or give them to Fouquet's servant. Books indeed! It is no longer, thank God, necessary for me to read books, or to have an opinion on them!

_November_ 1, 1671.--Lauzun has been sent here. The prison is getting far too crowded. It will soon be as bad as Versailles.

_November_ 10.--Lauzun is being very tiresome. He taps on my ceiling. I wrote a short note to Saint Mars that if this annoyance continued I should be constrained to leave his prison.

_March_ 3, 1680.--The situation was intolerable. Lauzun and Fouquet found some means of communication and they carried on interminable conversations. What they can have to talk about passes my understanding. I bore it patiently for some days. At last I complained to Saint Mars in writing, he took some steps and it appears that Fouquet has had an attack of apoplexy and died. I cannot endure the neighbourhood of Lauzun, and I have written to the King saying that unless I am transferred to a quieter dungeon I shall leave the prison.

_April_ 8, 1680.--Matters have been arranged satisfactorily, and I have been moved into the lower chamber of the _Tour d'en bas_. But the whole fortress is far too crowded. There are at least five prisoners in it. Also I found a tame mouse here, left I suppose by a former occupant. Had the nuisance removed at once. It is delicious to be safely in prison just now that the spring is beginning and to think that I shall not have to spend chilly evenings in wet gardens and to speak foolishly of the damp April weather.

_January_, 1681.--Caused much annoyance by a tiresome Italian fellow prisoner called Mattioli, who, feigning either madness or illness, or both, caused a commotion in the prison, necessitating the arrival of doctors and priests. Kept awake by noise of bolts being drawn, and the opening and shutting of doors. Wrote to the King complaining of this which is a direct infringement of his promise. Asked to be moved to a quieter spot.

_September_ 2,1681.--Moved to the Fortress of Exiles. Prison said to be empty. Hope this will prove true.

_October_ 10,1681.--Saint Mars very nearly spoke to me to-day. He was evidently bursting with something he longed to communicate. However, I made such a gesture, that I think he felt the frown through my velvet mask and withdrew.

_January_ 5, 1687.--After months, and indeed years of peace, perfect peace, with loved ones far away, I have again been subjected to intolerable annoyance. Fouquet's valet fell ill, and _Saint Mars informed me of the fact_. I wrote to the King at once saying that either Saint Mars or I must go.

_April_ 30, 1687.--King has granted my request. Arrived at Sainte Marguerite in a chair with wheels covered with wax-cloth. I think I shall be quieter here. I have been promised that no other prisoner shall be lodged here at all, but the promises of Kings are as iridescent and as brittle as Venetian glass.

_January_, 1690.--Alas! Alas! for the vanity of human wishes. Here I was perfectly contented, and, as I thought, quiet at last. Day followed day of perfect enjoyment, unmarred by conversation, undisturbed by study, unvexed by the elements, when the peace of my solitude is rudely shattered by the arrival of two Protestant ministers. It is true I am never to see them, but the mere fact of knowing that there are two Protestant ministers in the same building is enough to poison life!

_June_ 1, 1698.--More Protestant ministers have arrived, worse than the last. They sing hymns. I have written to the King asking him to transfer me to the Bastille at once. I always said that the Bastille was the only tolerable dwelling-place in France.

_September_ 13, 1698.--Arrived at the Bastille this afternoon. Lodged on the third floor of the _Bertandière_ tower--the _thickest_ tower. Really quiet.

_September_ 19.--A man hammered over my head at four o'clock this morning. It is intolerable. Shall I ever find a place where I can sleep from 4 to 8 a.m. without being disturbed? As it is, I might just as well be living in a fashionable inn.