The Man in the Iron Mask

My new book, The Man in the Iron Mask, is now available for pre-order:

https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/1445693925/ref=cm_sw_em_r_mt_dp_U_dQDJEbG7HHQ6P

Looks delightfully sinister, I'd say😮😮😮

La Chambre Ardente

7 April 1679, as the Affair of the Poisons erupts in Paris, Louis XIV establishes a secret tribunal to try those involved. Held in a room behind drawn curtains and lit only by a few candles, it was given the sinister name of la Chambre Ardente, or Burning Chamber.

Louis appointed Gabriel-Nicolas de La Reynie, his first lieutenant-general of Police, to investigate the poisoners, many of whom turned out to have connections with the court. So alarmed was Louis that he ordered all records of the interrogations and trials to be burned as soon as the investigation was closed. La Reynie, however, had kept his own copy of the records, and it is thanks to him that we know what went on during that dark and terrifying time.

Most of those who were found guilty were harmless fortune-tellers or peddlers in folk medicine. Only a small minority were involved in satanic rituals and murder.

It is often held that Louis's mistress, Madame de Montespan was heavily involved in the affair. It was said that she had taken part in black mass rituals and ordered poisons to dispatch love-rivals and even to murder the king if he dared to replace her with a new mistress.

This, however, is untrue. It was a common ploy among the accused, and who were awaiting execution, to name imaginary clients from the higher echelons of society. This, they believed, would buy them extra time while the authorities embarked on a new lead. It never worked, and those found guilty went to the fires at their appointed time. Mme de Montespan, who remained a sincere and devout Catholic all her life, occasionally visited fortune-tellers to see what their future held for them, but that was the extent of her involvement. In this, she was no different from any other young lady of her class.

Crisis at Pignerol

On 26 March 1670, the marquis de Louvois wrote to Saint-Mars to give him some disturbing news. Some weeks earlier, two men had broken into the citadel of Pignerol. One was Nicolas Foucquet’s former valet, La Forêt, the other was the sieur de Valcroissant, who went under the name of Honneste. They were well organised and funded, and their aim was to break Foucquet out of prison. Louvois had frustrated their plan. The valet, La Forêt had been hanged, while Honneste, described as a 'gentleman', was sent to the galleys. Foucquet remained in his chamber. Now, Louvois, who had placed a spy inside Pignerol, who related to him all that went on, informed Saint-Mars that the two men had been able to make contact with Foucquet’s two valets, Champagne and La Rivière. This was serious enough, but it was now revealed to Saint-Mars that Honneste or one of Foucquet’s valets had managed to speak to 'the prisoner who was brought to you by the major of Dunkirk.' The prisoner, who had been ordered never to speak to anyone, had refused to say anything. Instead, he told the person on the other side of his door to leave him alone. Louvois suggested that the prisoner probably thought that Saint-Mars had sent someone to test him. ‘You have not taken sufficient precautions to prevent his having any communications with anyone,’ rebuked Louvois; 'and, as it is very important to His Majesty’s service that he has no communication, please inspect carefully inside and outside the place where he is held, and put it in such order that the prisoner cannot see or be seen by anyone, and cannot speak to anyone at all, nor hear those who might want to say anything to him.’ This prisoner would go on to become the Man in the Iron Mask.

The Death of the Man in the Iron Mask

19 November 1703: The prisoner who was soon to become known to the world as The Man in the Iron Mask died at the Bastille. His passing was recorded by Etienne Du Junca, lieutenant du roi at the Bastille, who met this man upon his arrival and escorted him to the chamber he was to occupy for a short while. Du Junca never learned the man's name, nor did he know why he had been imprisoned.

Du Junca kept two private registers: in the first he recorded those who entered the Bastille; in the second he recorded those who left, either by being freed or by dying. His entry for the mysterious prisoner, who had long ago lost his name and his identity, reads:

'Monday 19 November 1703, the prisoner, unknown, always masked with a mask of black velvet, whom Monsieur de St Mars governor had brought with him upon coming from the isles St Marguerite whom he had guarded for a long time, the which feeling a little unwell yesterday upon leaving mass, he died today at ten o’clock in the evening without having had a serious illness; it could not have been more slight. M. Giraut our almoner confessed him yesterday is surprised by his death. He did not receive the sacraments, and our almoner exhorted him a moment before he died, and this unknown prisoner kept here for so long, was buried on Tuesday at four o’clock in the afternoon, 20 November in the cemetery of St Paul our parish. On the register of burial he was given a name also unknown; that Monsieur de Rosarges major and Arriel [sic] surgeon who have signed the register.'

In the margin, Du Junca added: ‘I have since learned that they named him on the register M de Marchiel; that they paid 40 livres for the funeral.'

The prisoner was indeed buried on 20 November 1703 in the churchyard of Saint-Paul-des-Champs. This was, as Du Junca noted, the parish church which served the Bastille, Situated on what is today the corner of the rue Saint-Paul and rue Neuve Saint-Pierre, it was closed in 1790 and its register was destroyed in a fire set by the Communards in May 1871. Happily, the register's contents had already been copied by historians. The entry for the Iron Mask's burial read:


'On the 19th [November], Marchioly, aged 45 years or thereabouts, died at the Bastille, whose body was buried in the churchyard of St. Paul, his parish, the 20th of the present month, in the presence of M. Reglhe [sic], surgeon major of the Bastille, who signed.’


It was then signed by Rosarges and Reilhe.

The Trial of Nicolas Foucquet Opens

Still: Le Roi, l'Écureuil et la Couleuvre

On 13 November 1664, Charles de Batz Castelmore, comte d'Artagnan, captain-lieutenant of the musketeers, entered a finely appointed chamber in the Bastille. He found Nicolas Foucquet sitting by the fire reading a book. Foucquet looked up and saw the man who had arrested him three years previously, a man who had since become his gaoler, his confidant and his friend. As the musketeer approached, Foucquet gave him a wan smile and announced that he was ready to face his judges. 

On the following day Nicolas Foucquet walked into the Arsenal in Paris as the first day of his trial was about to begin. He wore a simple black suit with a white collar and he sat down, not without protest, on the small wooden sallette that had been set out for him. Again under protest, he eventually took the oath. He did not recognise the jurisdiction of the chambre de justice and had taken the oath so that he could clarify points he had made over the past three years in his written defences.

Stills: 'Secrets d'Histoire: le soleil offusqué'

Foucquet was a brilliant magistrate. He habitually wore the long black robes of his office, and he apologised to the chamber for not appearing before them appropriately dressed. He had asked for his robes, he told them, but his request had been refused.


Over the next few weeks, he would expose the holes in the prosecution's case as he ably defended himself against a panel of judges that was packed against him, mainly with relatives and supporters of Colbert. The stakes were incredibly high. The king had made it clear that he wished and expected Foucquet to lose so that his former minister could be sentenced to death.

The Ghostly Origins of The Wicked Lady

The story of the Wicked Lady originated as a piece of folklore associated with the Hertfordshire manor of Markyate Cell. In the film The Wicked Lady, Barbara, played by Margaret Lockwood, takes to the road as a highwaywoman after marrying the stable but dull owner of Maryiot Cells. Joining forces with the highwayman, ‘Lucky’ Jerry Jackson, played by James Mason, she embarks on a spree of theft and violence which ultimately leads to her own demise.

The film is based upon the novel The Life and Death of the Wicked Lady Skelton by Magdalen King-Hall, who found her inspiration in a book of ghosts and folklore by Christina Hole, entitled Haunted England. In it, Hole relates the story of the ‘wicked’ Lady Ferrers, whose spirit is said to haunt Markyate Cell, near Dunstable. Like her film counterpart, Lady Ferrers took to the road not out of a need for money, but driven by boredom and the desire for excitement and power. As night approached, she would dress in masculine clothing and leave the house by a secret door, riding abroad on a coal black horse with white socks. Making her way to nearby Watling Street, she would waylay unsuspecting travellers, relieve them of their valuables and kill anyone who offered resistance. One of her methods was to hide in a tree and jump onto passing coaches and carriages, which she would rob before the occupants knew what was going on. Although it is probable that no-one in the household knew of Lady Ferrers’s nocturnal activities, if anyone in the nearby village had their suspicions, they had the good sense to remain quiet.

Lady Ferrers was said to have had used a special, secret room, which she reached by a staircase concealed within the kitchen chimney. One night, as she was going about her infamous business, she was wounded in a fight and, seriously injured, she made her way back to this secret room only to die at the foot of the staircase.

Lady Ferrers’s spirit did not rest in peace for long. Her shade has sometimes been seen lurking by a tree, beneath which she was said to have stashed her ill-gotten gains. Other have seen her riding on the road, while yet others have glimpsed her near the kitchen chimney. She was usually blamed for whatever misfortunes occurred in the house, including no less than three serious fires.
According to Hole, during the 1870s, the then owner of Markyate Cell, Mr Daniel Adye, discovered a bricked-up doorway in the chimney while repairs were being done at the house. The workmen, all of whom were local, were aware of the tale of the Wicked Lady and refused to do any further work at the house, so that Mr Adye was obliged to recruit workers from London in order to continue the repairs, and at last the door was opened. There was a staircase behind it, which led to an empty room closed by a heavy oaken door. The workmen claimed to have heard sighs and groans, which could not be accounted for and as they made their way back to their lodgings that night, they saw the ghost of a beautiful woman swinging from a branch of a ‘haunted’ tree.

As for Lady Ferrers, she does not appear to have been too disturbed that her hiding place had been discovered. Her spirit continued to be seen on occasion, including a tea party held in the local parish.

So much for tradition, but who was Lady Ferrers, and how did she become associated with the Wicked Lady ? Lady Ferrers was born Catherine Ferrers on 4 May 1634 at Markyate Cell near Dunstable, to Knighton Ferrers and his wife, Catherine. Following the death of her two brothers, Catherine became the sole heir to both her father and grandfather. Upon the death of her father, her mother married Simon Fanshawe, but died shortly afterwards. Catherine became the ward of the Fanshawes whose Royalist sympathies during the Civil War led to the sequestration of their property and devastating financial difficulties. However, the wealth Catherine had inherited from her family made her an attractive proposition, and she was married at the age of thirteen to Simon Fanshawe’s nephew, Thomas. Due to the youth of both parties, the couple did not live together straightaway, but when Thomas came of age, he inherited his family’s estate, Ware Park, in exchange for Catherine’s inheritance, including Markyate Cell, which was used to settle the debts incurred by the Fanshawe family. Catherine and Thomas continued to live at Ware Park, however, his admittance to the Middle Temple in 1657, and his imprisonment in the Tower for his implication in a rebellion two years later, meant that Catherine spent much of her time alone in the country.

The idea of Catherine as a neglected wife, and the misuse of her inheritance by her in-laws, led to her association with local legends concerning a bored and neglected lady who took to the road as a highwaywoman. A story spread abroad that Lady Catherine met Ralph Chaplin, who was a farmer by day and a highwayman by night. He taught her the skills a successful highwaywoman would need, and they set out on a spree of crime together. At some point, however, Chaplin was shot and killed during a robbery on Finchley Common, but Lady Catherine continued alone. Her methods were brutal, often unnecessarily so, but it all came to an end when she held up a wagoner, shooting the driver, but was herself ambushed by his two companions, who had concealed themselves. She was shot, but managed to make her way back to her secret room at Markyate Cell, where she died. That she was buried at night is often seen as sinister, although it was not unusual for the time in which she lived.

The life of the real Catherine Ferrers, who died childless in June 1660 at the age of twenty-six, bears very little resemblance to her fictional counterpart. Although her family had sold Markyate Cell in 1657, and she is believed to have resided in London’s Strand while her highway activities were supposed to have been carried out, she is still associated with the Hertfordshire manor, the name of which was changed from Markyate Cell to Maryiot Cells by Magdalen King-Hall. The house was originally a Benedictine Priory, which was converted into a house in 1540. It was substantially rebuilt following a fire in 1908. When the film, The Wicked Lady, was made, the owners of Markyate Cell were concerned about sightseers and would not allow the company to use it as a location, so Blickling Hall in Norfolk was used instead, a house associated with another famous ghost, that of Anne Boleyn - but that is another story...

Etienne Du Junca

On 11 October 1690, Etienne Du Junca entered the Bastille.

An officer of the guards under M. de Duras, Du Junca had worked his way through the ranks before being selected for service at the Bastille. He took up the post of lieutenant du roi, the second highest rank after the governor. Here, he deputised for Besmaux, the aged governor, who was now too old to carry out his full duties.

Upon taking up his post, Du Junca began a register in which he recorded prisoners who entered the Bastille. In a second register, begun the same day, he recorded those were released or who died in prison. In due course, he would note details of the entry, and the death and burial of the man who was to become the Man in the Iron Mask.