The Man Behind the Iron Mask (34 page)

Even in historical romances there is a limit to how much the reader's disbelief can be suspended, and when one recalls that on this very day, 20 January 1669, Charles wrote to Louis XIV proposing a secret alliance, it would seem that this limit has been reached. Nevertheless, for what it is worth, Pagnol's story continues like this. The young man, overwhelmed by the discovery of his true identity and frightened by the warnings of what would happen to him if ever his twin brother Louis XIV found out about him, allowed himself to be persuaded that his only hope lay in the success of the revolution planned by the Committee of Ten. Roux promised him the throne of France and in the meantime had him pose as his valet under the name Martin. Whether there was ever an actual valet called Martin, Pagnol does not make clear, but he does present us with another valet unnamed who takes advantage of the situation to make off with the Jesuit's money and escape to Naples. The marriage and death of the Prince Stuart recorded there was this man's story, and nothing to do with James de La Cloche. Roux left London in March and was arrested in May. He confessed under interrogation in June that the aim of his conspiracy was to oust Louis XIV in favour of his twin brother, who was at that moment living in London disguised as a valet. Lionne thought him mad but played safe anyway, and in July had James de La Cloche kidnapped and locked up in Pignerol under the name ‘Eustache Dauger'. That Pagnol could seriously offer this rigmarole, as an elucidation of the mystery of the Iron Mask, is no small mystery in itself.

Lang, Carey and Pagnol were not the only Iron Mask hunters to carry the search into the undergrowth of political and religious intrigue in England in 1668 and 1669. The plots and counter-plots, deals and double-deals surrounding Charles II, along with the pretended involvement and unexpected entanglement of James de La Cloche, have all the makings of a secret worthy of the Iron Mask. Not surprisingly they have provided yet another theory and yet another candidate. In the view of Arthur Barnes, whose book
The Man of the Mask
was published in 1912, the secret of how the Iron Mask was employed before he was imprisoned was what Charles II called ‘the great secret': his plan to use the financial and military support of Louis XIV to take his kingdom back into the Roman Catholic Church. In this respect, Barnes trod the same ground as Carey, but in his version of things the Iron Mask was a different man altogether: ‘a mysterious priest-astrologer' by the name of Pregnani. It is known from reliable sources of the time that this man visited Charles from France in February 1669 and vanished on his return to France in July 1669, his disappearance thus coinciding perfectly with the arrest of Eustache Dauger. What follows is the generally accepted account of Pregnani's visit to England.

When, at the end of January 1669, Louis XIV received a secret letter from Charles II asking for his support, he was naturally very interested. An alliance with England was very much to Louis XIV's advantage. His ambitions for territorial expansion to the north and north-east had been checked less than a year before by the alliance between England, Holland and Sweden. In summer 1667 he had invaded and conquered large areas of the Spanish Netherlands, and in February 1668 had occupied the Franche Comté which also belonged to Spain. England and Holland, whose maritime and commercial rivalry had kept them at war with each other for two years, patched up their differences in July 1667 and entered a joint alliance against French expansion in January 1668. In the following April they brought Sweden into the alliance, and in May obliged the French to accept terms which limited their gains to Flanders. So far as Louis XIV was concerned, this peace was only a truce until the balance of power in Europe could be weighted his way and the frontiers of France could be extended to include the whole of the Spanish Netherlands, the Franche Comté and the Duchy of Lorraine. In return for supporting Charles against the Protestants in England, he therefore hoped to receive English support against the Dutch and Spanish in Europe. In his opinion, however, Charles was too devious and secretive, too frivolous and capricious to be relied upon, and so far as he could see the sympathies of his chief minister, Arlington, were not inclined to France. Arlington, it seemed, was strongly in favour of a pro-Dutch foreign policy and by all reports he had been in secret communication with Roux. Louis XIV was understandably cautious about the new relationship and glad when an opportunity presented itself to have someone worm his way into Charles's confidence to watch and influence him.

In February 1669, the Duke of Monmouth wrote to the Abbé Pregnani, an Italian priest resident in France, inviting him to England. Pregnani was a member of the Theatine Order, which was well-known in Italy and Spain but not elsewhere. The congregation was established in 1524 as part of the effort of the Roman Church to reform itself from within, the aim of its founders being to provide an example of poverty and spirituality to Roman Catholic clergy too often interested in wealth and worldly affairs. Monmouth, however, was not at all interested in the aims of the Theatine Order, nor to all appearances was Pregnani. The ladies of the French court, including Madame, the sister of Charles II, were Pregnani's chief concern and they took delight in his company because of his ability to tell fortunes from the stars. The Duke of Monmouth had met him on a recent visit to Madame in France, and Pregnani had revealed his past so accurately and foretold his future so favourably that they had become great friends. As well as being an expert in astrology, Pregnani was something of an adept in chemistry and, since Charles II had a passion for both of these sciences, Monmouth thought it would amuse his father to meet him. Louis XIV, informed of the invitation, had Pregnani briefed. Since Charles was as likely to be influenced by astrological suggestions as he was by logical proposals, Pregnani was to convince him by the movements of the stars that his only good and sure alliance was with France. He was to involve himself as much as possible in the King's amusements and the informal life of the court, and to give a daily account to Croissy of all that transpired.

Pregnani arrived in London on 26 February and took rooms in Covent Garden with Gerard, the French wine-merchant used by Roux as a postal agent. Roux himself was to slip out of England a few days later just as Lionne received information that he was in London. Pregnani visited the Duke of Monmouth that same day to pay his respects and at the same time sent a servant to Croissy with his letter of introduction from Lionne. On the following day he called upon Croissy to receive a more detailed briefing on the English court, and then he went to work. His début was a great success. There was a certain young lady at court whom Monmouth, Charles and James were all trying to seduce, and Monmouth asked Pregnani to tell him which one of them would be the first to succeed. Pregnani, without having seen this fortunate creature, was able to describe her character and appearance, her past life and current behaviour with such precision that everyone was impressed. The King, convinced by this that he had ‘a great deale of witt' and was ‘very ingenious in all things', asked him to draw up his horoscope and invited him to join the court at Newmarket the following week.

Pregnani was immediately popular, but not with everyone. Soon after his arrival, the Duke of Buckingham was informed by his sister, writing from the French court, that Madame had sent Pregnani to London for the express purpose of negotiating with Charles and Monmouth behind his back. Negotiating what, Buckingham did not know, but assumed that it must be something to his personal disadvantage, and his attitude to Pregnani was in consequence hostile and suspicious. As it was, Buckingham's attention was thus distracted from Arundel's visit to Paris and what was really happening behind his back.

The ingenious fortune-teller was not popular for long, however. At Newmarket he made a foolish and fateful blunder. Since he was supposed to be a prophet, some wag suggested he ought to be able to predict the winners. The challenge was made and accepted. Monmouth and James backed his forecasts heavily and lost a lot of money. For them it was amusing, but for their less wealthy friends and hangers-on, their servants and lackeys, who backed the same horses, it was a disaster. Pregnani's reputation as an astrolger collapsed. Buckingham's attitude to him was sweetened by the incident and Charles continued to enjoy his company, but no one took him seriously any more. He became at best a figure of fun, ridiculed mercilessly on all sides. Realizing that if he proved a failure in England he would lose all credit in France, the poor man delayed reporting his blunder to Croissy until the end of March, by which time he claimed he could still win the King's confidence and bring serious influence to bear through the horoscope he was preparing. Croissy believed him and Lionne gave him the benefit of the doubt, but jokes made about him in the English court were soon being repeated in the French court. In May Lionne wrote to Croissy ordering him to arrange Pregnani's return.

Pregnani, desperate to salvage his prestige, begged for more time. ‘If the Abbé Pregnani is not successful here, it will not be for lack of zeal or ability in the service of the King', Croissy told Lionne and argued for letting him stay in London a little longer. Pregnani, however, was more concerned to enlist a king in his own service and prevailed upon Charles to defend his name in Paris. ‘I find the poore Abbé Pregnani very much troubled,' Charles wrote to Madame on 6 May, ‘for feare that the railleries about foretelling the horsematches may have done him some prejudice with you, which I hope it has not done, for he was only trying new tricks, which he had read of in bookes, and gave as little credit to them as we did. Pray continue to be his friend so much as to hinder all you can any prejudice that may come to him upon that score, for the man has witt enough, and is as much your servant as possible, which makes me love him.' Pregnani had certainly succeeded in winning Charles's serious attention and concern, but only in so far as he had proved himself such a serious failure that no one would be concerned to pay any attention to him ever again.

Lionne repeated his command that Pregnani be withdrawn, but again Croissy put him off. The post of ambassador had been given to Croissy because he was Colbert's brother, and in truth he was not up to it. Roux had been living under his nose in London, visiting Whitehall and the embassies of Holland, Spain and Austria for at least three months without him realizing it, and Charles thought him so obtuse that he refused to have him brought into the full secret of his dealings with France. Pregnani had no difficulty convincing him that with a little more time he could achieve his mission, and it was not until mid-June, after Lionne's third demand, that Croissy finally told Pregnani to leave. The departure was fixed for 25 June, but Pregnani managed to hang on still longer and left at last only on 5 July.

Between English dates and French dates at that time there was a difference of ten days, because France had adopted the revised calendar promulgated by Rome while England had kept to the old one. The 5 July in England was therefore the 15 July in France. When he left London, Pregnani was carrying a letter for Lionne from Croissy, but apparently he took his time along the way, and did not deliver it until after Lionne had received two subsequent letters from Croissy sent by normal post; at least that is what Lionne told Croissy in the reply he wrote on 27 July. The return of the astrologer was not noticed at the French court, but since his reputation there also had been destroyed by the disaster at Newmarket, the lack of interest is hardly surprising.

That Pregnani's story was as simple as that, Barnes refused to believe. Charles usually gave the appearance of being a fool only when he was being particularly clever and Pregnani, who made such a poor show as an astrologer, was after all a priest. It was evident that in his seemingly frivolous way Charles enjoyed Pregnani's company immensely, and since both were adepts in chemistry, no further excuse was necessary for the two of them to spend a lot of time together in private. Thus for four months, while Pregnani was at the English court, Charles had direct and easy access to the services of a priest. The timing for this extraordinary state of affairs was significant: it had come about, as though by chance, just one month after Charles had committed himself to a plan which if successful would make him and his kingdom Catholic. It was not, Barnes concluded, the work of chance. Charles himself had arranged the whole thing. After years of indecision, something had prompted him to act out his religious convictions, to seek the political support of Louis XIV and to have the spiritual support of this priest. And what had happened to arouse his conscience and courage in this way was nothing less than divine intervention, albeit through the impious workings of the impostor James de La Cloche.

Barnes took up the story of James de La Cloche on his arrival in Naples in January 1669. While he saw no reason to contest the generally accepted view that the young man was a fraud, he did not accept the idea that he had an accomplice. In his opinion the man who turned up with him in Naples was the Jesuit companion whom he abandoned in France, a genuinely loyal and trusted member of the Society of Jesus. La Cloche, having left him in France, had not expected to see him again. His story to the Father-General, about picking him up again on his return through France and taking him on with him to England, had been a simple stratagem to get away without supervision of any kind when he left Rome the second time. Unhappily for that stratagem, however, the Jesuit companion had grown anxious waiting without news in France and had returned to Rome to ask for instructions. La Cloche had thus been caught in his own trickery. The companion had naturally expected to go with him again and this time all the way to London.

Before leaving Rome the two of them had been given a reply to the questions asked by James as well as a message for Charles, and they were in Naples to find a ship for England. La Cloche realized at this point that he could not keep up the game any longer and so he pretended to be ill. The Jesuit companion suspected nothing and, conscious of the importance and urgency of their mission, decided to continue the journey alone. Before going to Charles in London, he visited Madame in Paris; it was he who, on 20 January, met Charles in the dark passage, appearing unbidden like an emissary from heaven to remind Charles of his own most secret doubts and aspirations. From Charles, he returned to Madame, and from Madame, a month later, he returned to Charles, this time openly as Pregnani, an altogether false identity invented for him by Charles.