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Trilogie des Mousquetaires #3.3
Man in the Iron Mask
Here is the magnificent concluding story of the swashbuckling Musketeers, Aramis, Athos, Porthos, and D'Artagnan.
728 pages, Kindle Edition
Published June 1, 2009
872 people are currently reading
5207 people want to read
About the author
Alexandre Dumas
7,026 books12.3k followersThis note regards Alexandre Dumas, père, the father of Alexandre Dumas, fils (son). For the son, see Alexandre Dumas fils.
Alexandre Dumas père, born Alexandre Dumas Davy de la Pailleterie, was a towering figure of 19th-century French literature whose historical novels and adventure tales earned global renown. Best known for The Three Musketeers, The Count of Monte Cristo, and other swashbuckling epics, Dumas crafted stories filled with daring heroes, dramatic twists, and vivid historical backdrops. His works, often serialized and immensely popular with the public, helped shape the modern adventure genre and remain enduring staples of world literature.
Dumas was the son of Thomas-Alexandre Dumas, a celebrated general in Revolutionary France and the highest-ranking man of African descent in a European army at the time. His father’s early death left the family in poverty, but Dumas’s upbringing was nonetheless marked by strong personal ambition and a deep admiration for his father’s achievements. He moved to Paris as a young man and began his literary career writing for the theatre, quickly rising to prominence in the Romantic movement with successful plays like Henri III et sa cour and Antony.
In the 1840s, Dumas turned increasingly toward prose fiction, particularly serialized novels, which reached vast audiences through French newspapers. His collaboration with Auguste Maquet, a skilled plotter and historian, proved fruitful. While Maquet drafted outlines and conducted research, Dumas infused the narratives with flair, dialogue, and color. The result was a string of literary triumphs, including The Three Musketeers and The Count of Monte Cristo, both published in 1844. These novels exemplified Dumas’s flair for suspenseful pacing, memorable characters, and grand themes of justice, loyalty, and revenge.
The D’Artagnan Romances—The Three Musketeers, Twenty Years After, and The Vicomte of Bragelonne—cemented his fame. They follow the adventures of the titular Gascon hero and his comrades Athos, Porthos, and Aramis, blending historical fact and fiction into richly imagined narratives. The Count of Monte Cristo offered a darker, more introspective tale of betrayal and retribution, with intricate plotting and a deeply philosophical core.
Dumas was also active in journalism and theater. He founded the Théâtre Historique in Paris, which staged dramatizations of his own novels. A prolific and energetic writer, he is estimated to have written or co-written over 100,000 pages of fiction, plays, memoirs, travel books, and essays. He also had a strong interest in food and published a massive culinary encyclopedia, Le Grand Dictionnaire de cuisine, filled with recipes, anecdotes, and reflections on gastronomy.
Despite his enormous success, Dumas was frequently plagued by financial troubles. He led a lavish lifestyle, building the ornate Château de Monte-Cristo near Paris, employing large staffs, and supporting many friends and relatives. His generosity and appetite for life often outpaced his income, leading to mounting debts. Still, his creative drive rarely waned.
Dumas’s mixed-race background was a source of both pride and tension in his life. He was outspoken about his heritage and used his platform to address race and injustice. In his novel Georges, he explored issues of colonialism and identity through a Creole protagonist. Though he encountered racism, he refused to be silenced, famously replying to a racial insult by pointing to his ancestry and achievements with dignity and wit.
Later in life, Dumas continued writing and traveling, spending time in Belgium, Italy, and Russia. He supported nationalist causes, particularly Italian unification, and even founded a newspaper to advocate for Giuseppe Garibaldi. Though his popularity waned somewhat in his final years, his literary legacy grew steadily. He wrote in a style that was accessible, entertaining, and emotionally reso
Alexandre Dumas père, born Alexandre Dumas Davy de la Pailleterie, was a towering figure of 19th-century French literature whose historical novels and adventure tales earned global renown. Best known for The Three Musketeers, The Count of Monte Cristo, and other swashbuckling epics, Dumas crafted stories filled with daring heroes, dramatic twists, and vivid historical backdrops. His works, often serialized and immensely popular with the public, helped shape the modern adventure genre and remain enduring staples of world literature.
Dumas was the son of Thomas-Alexandre Dumas, a celebrated general in Revolutionary France and the highest-ranking man of African descent in a European army at the time. His father’s early death left the family in poverty, but Dumas’s upbringing was nonetheless marked by strong personal ambition and a deep admiration for his father’s achievements. He moved to Paris as a young man and began his literary career writing for the theatre, quickly rising to prominence in the Romantic movement with successful plays like Henri III et sa cour and Antony.
In the 1840s, Dumas turned increasingly toward prose fiction, particularly serialized novels, which reached vast audiences through French newspapers. His collaboration with Auguste Maquet, a skilled plotter and historian, proved fruitful. While Maquet drafted outlines and conducted research, Dumas infused the narratives with flair, dialogue, and color. The result was a string of literary triumphs, including The Three Musketeers and The Count of Monte Cristo, both published in 1844. These novels exemplified Dumas’s flair for suspenseful pacing, memorable characters, and grand themes of justice, loyalty, and revenge.
The D’Artagnan Romances—The Three Musketeers, Twenty Years After, and The Vicomte of Bragelonne—cemented his fame. They follow the adventures of the titular Gascon hero and his comrades Athos, Porthos, and Aramis, blending historical fact and fiction into richly imagined narratives. The Count of Monte Cristo offered a darker, more introspective tale of betrayal and retribution, with intricate plotting and a deeply philosophical core.
Dumas was also active in journalism and theater. He founded the Théâtre Historique in Paris, which staged dramatizations of his own novels. A prolific and energetic writer, he is estimated to have written or co-written over 100,000 pages of fiction, plays, memoirs, travel books, and essays. He also had a strong interest in food and published a massive culinary encyclopedia, Le Grand Dictionnaire de cuisine, filled with recipes, anecdotes, and reflections on gastronomy.
Despite his enormous success, Dumas was frequently plagued by financial troubles. He led a lavish lifestyle, building the ornate Château de Monte-Cristo near Paris, employing large staffs, and supporting many friends and relatives. His generosity and appetite for life often outpaced his income, leading to mounting debts. Still, his creative drive rarely waned.
Dumas’s mixed-race background was a source of both pride and tension in his life. He was outspoken about his heritage and used his platform to address race and injustice. In his novel Georges, he explored issues of colonialism and identity through a Creole protagonist. Though he encountered racism, he refused to be silenced, famously replying to a racial insult by pointing to his ancestry and achievements with dignity and wit.
Later in life, Dumas continued writing and traveling, spending time in Belgium, Italy, and Russia. He supported nationalist causes, particularly Italian unification, and even founded a newspaper to advocate for Giuseppe Garibaldi. Though his popularity waned somewhat in his final years, his literary legacy grew steadily. He wrote in a style that was accessible, entertaining, and emotionally reso
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 269 reviews
January 5, 2014
Perhaps the most surprising thing about The Man in the Iron Mask, to me, was just how quickly the title subplot was dealt with. Then again, this was not originally called The Man in the Iron Mask. This is the last chunk in a larger book. I can see why it gets cut up like that. This part alone was over 400 pages. And the introduction gave a coherent enough synopsis of what came before that I could follow. Maybe I should have read it all, since I do like reading Dumas the elder.
Back in the 90s, I saw the movie version, the one with Leonardo DiCaprio. Because Leo was soooo dreamy. And wow, did it ever depart from the source material. Sure, I expected that, but maybe not quite to that extent. I'm sure it doesn't surprise anyone that I think the original was far and away better. One of the things that I really liked, and was really surprised by, in The Three Musketeers was the level of nuance in the characters. Opposing a protagonist does not make a character evil, and an opponent can become a friend. It's refreshing, and far more realistic. But the ending is one hell of a downer, I have to say. It doesn't bother me, but it's something to keep in mind before you dive in.
Back in the 90s, I saw the movie version, the one with Leonardo DiCaprio. Because Leo was soooo dreamy. And wow, did it ever depart from the source material. Sure, I expected that, but maybe not quite to that extent. I'm sure it doesn't surprise anyone that I think the original was far and away better. One of the things that I really liked, and was really surprised by, in The Three Musketeers was the level of nuance in the characters. Opposing a protagonist does not make a character evil, and an opponent can become a friend. It's refreshing, and far more realistic. But the ending is one hell of a downer, I have to say. It doesn't bother me, but it's something to keep in mind before you dive in.
September 15, 2018
My insignificant words can hardly do justice to my love for this book, so I'll keep it short.
You can read my original review here.
If you are curious about this book because you're familiar with the title, or saw the (terrible) movie, or have read The Three Musketeers and can't be bothered with everything that comes in between, please don't bother with this book. You've hardly earned it, and as such it'll ring hollow for you.
If, however, you have loyally followed our musketeer friends over their 40 years of adventures; if you can comprehend the significance of Athos showing weakness, of Aramis's tears, of the words 'too heavy' ... read, and do justice to our friends by allowing their stories to conclude.
This is the book where four inseparable, energetic men find that time and politics have finally caught up with them. It's absolutely gut-wrenching at times to see how their stories have been influenced.
This book will live forever in my heart, as will its heroes.
You can read my original review here.
If you are curious about this book because you're familiar with the title, or saw the (terrible) movie, or have read The Three Musketeers and can't be bothered with everything that comes in between, please don't bother with this book. You've hardly earned it, and as such it'll ring hollow for you.
If, however, you have loyally followed our musketeer friends over their 40 years of adventures; if you can comprehend the significance of Athos showing weakness, of Aramis's tears, of the words 'too heavy' ... read, and do justice to our friends by allowing their stories to conclude.
This is the book where four inseparable, energetic men find that time and politics have finally caught up with them. It's absolutely gut-wrenching at times to see how their stories have been influenced.
This book will live forever in my heart, as will its heroes.
August 26, 2020
The End of Time
Ah, I have finally reached the ultimate pillar in my summer Dumas reading project: The d’Artagnan Romances. It has been quite a marathon, but it also feels like a dream with page after page unfolding this peculiar drama that Dumas focused upon. It felt like a good French wine slowly enjoyed under the shade of trees in a summer garden with crickets chirping in the distance. Dumas continues decorating the historical events of mid 17th century France ruled by the sun king Louis XIV. The thing is that one is likely to enter this novel having seen the film version with the same name. As a consequence, part of the story line is spoiled, but as it turns out Dumas goes off in new directions as well. I felt like the story line sizzled and became a bit cold towards the end (in particular the epilogue in which history took over and became a bit political – I felt like Dumas was suddenly on a soap box in the epilogue). Regardless, the whole experience of immersing oneself in these long novels over the summer has been quite enjoyable. These novels are uneven – parts can be like being in a doldrum – but there are also beautiful chapters and passages with dreamy poetic qualities making it all worth it.
It is also worth noting that The Man in the Iron Mask is in a sense the third part of a larger novel (preceded by Vicomte de Bragellone and Louise de Valliere). I would not recommend reading The Man in the Iron Mask without having read the previous two novels. There are simply too many characters previously introduced and too much plot building preceding the third part. I can imagine one feeling a bit at a loss if one just jumped into the Man in the Iron Mask without that knowledge.
I feel a bit sad that this reading marathon has ended as I enjoyed being in the world conjured by Dumas, the at times poetic prose as well as in the company of the iconic main characters of these novels. Ah, Athos, Artemis, Porthos and d'Artagnan! At the same time this is definitely not top-notch literature as it at times reads more like an uneven historical fiction soap opera. However, I would definitely recommend it to any Dumas fan or readers interested in French literature overall.
Ah, I have finally reached the ultimate pillar in my summer Dumas reading project: The d’Artagnan Romances. It has been quite a marathon, but it also feels like a dream with page after page unfolding this peculiar drama that Dumas focused upon. It felt like a good French wine slowly enjoyed under the shade of trees in a summer garden with crickets chirping in the distance. Dumas continues decorating the historical events of mid 17th century France ruled by the sun king Louis XIV. The thing is that one is likely to enter this novel having seen the film version with the same name. As a consequence, part of the story line is spoiled, but as it turns out Dumas goes off in new directions as well. I felt like the story line sizzled and became a bit cold towards the end (in particular the epilogue in which history took over and became a bit political – I felt like Dumas was suddenly on a soap box in the epilogue). Regardless, the whole experience of immersing oneself in these long novels over the summer has been quite enjoyable. These novels are uneven – parts can be like being in a doldrum – but there are also beautiful chapters and passages with dreamy poetic qualities making it all worth it.
It is also worth noting that The Man in the Iron Mask is in a sense the third part of a larger novel (preceded by Vicomte de Bragellone and Louise de Valliere). I would not recommend reading The Man in the Iron Mask without having read the previous two novels. There are simply too many characters previously introduced and too much plot building preceding the third part. I can imagine one feeling a bit at a loss if one just jumped into the Man in the Iron Mask without that knowledge.
I feel a bit sad that this reading marathon has ended as I enjoyed being in the world conjured by Dumas, the at times poetic prose as well as in the company of the iconic main characters of these novels. Ah, Athos, Artemis, Porthos and d'Artagnan! At the same time this is definitely not top-notch literature as it at times reads more like an uneven historical fiction soap opera. However, I would definitely recommend it to any Dumas fan or readers interested in French literature overall.
December 13, 2009
Very good ending to the series. It was very fun. This book actually had quite a bit more sentiment and purpose than the others.
I got a little sick of Raoul's life-threatening love sickness, but other than that it was great. It actually had some nice lines in it, but I don't have time to add them like I would like.
I found the ending to be a bit of a let-down, but I don't know how else Dumas could have done it. I guess it was fitting, but all the same, it seemed a bit rushed.
All in all, great series, very entertaining. Loved the history (albeit a bit fudged by Dumas--but I read the footnotes too!!)
Btw, the Oxford Classics versions have very nice footnotes.
I got a little sick of Raoul's life-threatening love sickness, but other than that it was great. It actually had some nice lines in it, but I don't have time to add them like I would like.
I found the ending to be a bit of a let-down, but I don't know how else Dumas could have done it. I guess it was fitting, but all the same, it seemed a bit rushed.
All in all, great series, very entertaining. Loved the history (albeit a bit fudged by Dumas--but I read the footnotes too!!)
Btw, the Oxford Classics versions have very nice footnotes.
December 1, 2016
In the final volume of this masterpiece of Dumas, we have the denouement and end of the arcs of our favourite characters, d'Artagnon, Porthos, Athos and Aramis. Saying anymore would truly spoil your pleasure as surprises and reversals rebound. Suffice it to say that the grandeur of the characters and their fates is truly stupefying and I was blown-away but the majesty of the writing and the epic nature of these characters. I recall from the biography that I read about Dumas by Troyan that Dumas most likely wrote this himself without a ghost writer and put various episodes from his life but mostly the tumultuous emotions he harboured towards his father into the writing of this ultimate chapter in this, the longest and most human of his works. One of the best series enders ever - until Breaking Bad of course ;)
Read
June 11, 2020*closes book*
*cries in French*
*cries in French*
May 22, 2022
I CRIED. 😭
November 23, 2019
I came to The Man in the Iron Mask having only read The Count of Monte Cristo - so with no experience of the three musketeers. This left me confused in the early days of this last D'Artagnan romance: I knew the history of "the squirrel" (which constitutes a massive spoiler, but what can ya do when writing a historical novel?), but none of the intrigues the characters kept referring to. May be a good thing: I think I like the central characters more in their old age than I would have in their youth.
The plot is weak, to say the least, having far more to do with D'Artagnan's last hurrah than the titular masked man. And oh my WORD, Dumas rambles! Maaaaaybe his writing is more to be admired in the original French? It's difficult to take seriously any narration or dialogue that includes such lines as -
"Do not act as if you were playing at the game children play at when they have to try to guess where a thing has been hidden, and are informed by a bell being rung, when they are approaching near to it, or going away from it."
Eh?
This is typical of the dialogue. I didn't feel that things picked up at all until about 400, 500 pages in, when Aramis and Porthos are fighting for their lives and people begin to drop like flies. The slight redeeming quality of the novel is also the most memorable part of the series: the friendship, the code of loyalty and honor that binds the three (and D'Artagnan, who orbits them, being awesome. Like he does.). The characters, too, were not unlikable. I didn't like Raoul, who was too lovesick to be of any earthly good, and Athos sat rather too piously on his hands; but D'Artagnan was a good egg, as was Porthos. I was even rather fond of Aramis, despite Robert Louis Stevenson's opinion of him. Still, they didn't effectively raise the book in my opinion. Dumas isn't my favorite, and if I do have some strange urge to read him, I think I'll settle for the Count.
The plot is weak, to say the least, having far more to do with D'Artagnan's last hurrah than the titular masked man. And oh my WORD, Dumas rambles! Maaaaaybe his writing is more to be admired in the original French? It's difficult to take seriously any narration or dialogue that includes such lines as -
"Do not act as if you were playing at the game children play at when they have to try to guess where a thing has been hidden, and are informed by a bell being rung, when they are approaching near to it, or going away from it."
Eh?
This is typical of the dialogue. I didn't feel that things picked up at all until about 400, 500 pages in, when Aramis and Porthos are fighting for their lives and people begin to drop like flies. The slight redeeming quality of the novel is also the most memorable part of the series: the friendship, the code of loyalty and honor that binds the three (and D'Artagnan, who orbits them, being awesome. Like he does.). The characters, too, were not unlikable. I didn't like Raoul, who was too lovesick to be of any earthly good, and Athos sat rather too piously on his hands; but D'Artagnan was a good egg, as was Porthos. I was even rather fond of Aramis, despite Robert Louis Stevenson's opinion of him. Still, they didn't effectively raise the book in my opinion. Dumas isn't my favorite, and if I do have some strange urge to read him, I think I'll settle for the Count.
January 20, 2015
FINALLY!!!! The D'Artagnan series ends with a great novel. The other entries since
"The Three Musketeers" were unbalanced: too much political intrigue or too much romance (the latter applies especially to "Louise de Valliere") and -- worst of all -- the disappearance of the Musketeers for hundreds of pages. "The Man In The Iron Mask" strikes a perfect balance. It's all there: the intrigue, the romance, the swashbuckling. And the Musketeers are all back as main characters, not as side characters in other people's stories. I would have liked Dumas to wrap up some stories more completely, such as that of the "man in the iron mask" of the title, but you can't have everything.
"The Three Musketeers" were unbalanced: too much political intrigue or too much romance (the latter applies especially to "Louise de Valliere") and -- worst of all -- the disappearance of the Musketeers for hundreds of pages. "The Man In The Iron Mask" strikes a perfect balance. It's all there: the intrigue, the romance, the swashbuckling. And the Musketeers are all back as main characters, not as side characters in other people's stories. I would have liked Dumas to wrap up some stories more completely, such as that of the "man in the iron mask" of the title, but you can't have everything.
May 9, 2012
I never thought I'd ever say it, but I have finally met a book whose movie I like infinitely better. Before I begin my list of complaints, I must say that I respect Dumas as a great classic writer, and I did try to just write off his style as something in the revered past. However, I could find no excuse to explain the lack of interesting plot or story. As I slogged through the 700 + pages, I kept hoping for Dumas's sake that the story would pick up, but the characters just kept talking to each other...very politely of course. One can't say anything without plugging in a "my dear monsieur."
One huge issue was the man in the iron mask himself. He was probably the main reason I read this...after all, the book is named after him. I wasn't really bothered by the fact that he didn't come into the story until maybe chapter ten, but then he exited the story forever before it was even halfway through...and he never came back. (Spoiler warning) The mastermind Aramis hatches a plot to free the man in the iron mask and put him on the throne. It works perfectly, and no one is the wiser until Aramis decides to tell a minister of affairs. Why would the mastermind do such a thing? I have no idea. The result is that Aramis is forced to flee, but he comforts himself regarding the man in the iron mask's fate by saying that the man was doomed to a life of misfortune. Don't lose too much sleep, my dear Aramis. Having seen the movie, I kept waiting for the man in the iron mask to gloriously return and depose the evil king, and he never did. I suppose it was a good thing in this case that I'd seen the movie first, for I would have never wanted to watch it after reading this book. (Spoiler) Since the good king stays in an island prison for the rest of his life, the evil king stays on the throne. One good thing out of this is that King Louis slowly becomes a better king, even if some of his worse qualities remain.
That leads me to a second point. The characters are on the whole thoroughly unlikable, but most of them die anyway. Going into specifics would reveal too many of the plot points, and as there are only a few littered in the pages and pages of dialogue, I won't mention them. Suffice it to say that someone basically kills himself because love has made him an idiot--and not in a good way. Another someone can't run fast enough and he dies. And Aramis is just a heartless mastermind who ruins someone's life and runs away from the mess.
So I really did try to like this book. I wanted to like it, but I ended up getting most of my amusement from criticizing it. If that makes me a nuisance, read this book and then go watch the movie. You'll see what I mean.
One huge issue was the man in the iron mask himself. He was probably the main reason I read this...after all, the book is named after him. I wasn't really bothered by the fact that he didn't come into the story until maybe chapter ten, but then he exited the story forever before it was even halfway through...and he never came back. (Spoiler warning) The mastermind Aramis hatches a plot to free the man in the iron mask and put him on the throne. It works perfectly, and no one is the wiser until Aramis decides to tell a minister of affairs. Why would the mastermind do such a thing? I have no idea. The result is that Aramis is forced to flee, but he comforts himself regarding the man in the iron mask's fate by saying that the man was doomed to a life of misfortune. Don't lose too much sleep, my dear Aramis. Having seen the movie, I kept waiting for the man in the iron mask to gloriously return and depose the evil king, and he never did. I suppose it was a good thing in this case that I'd seen the movie first, for I would have never wanted to watch it after reading this book. (Spoiler) Since the good king stays in an island prison for the rest of his life, the evil king stays on the throne. One good thing out of this is that King Louis slowly becomes a better king, even if some of his worse qualities remain.
That leads me to a second point. The characters are on the whole thoroughly unlikable, but most of them die anyway. Going into specifics would reveal too many of the plot points, and as there are only a few littered in the pages and pages of dialogue, I won't mention them. Suffice it to say that someone basically kills himself because love has made him an idiot--and not in a good way. Another someone can't run fast enough and he dies. And Aramis is just a heartless mastermind who ruins someone's life and runs away from the mess.
So I really did try to like this book. I wanted to like it, but I ended up getting most of my amusement from criticizing it. If that makes me a nuisance, read this book and then go watch the movie. You'll see what I mean.
August 12, 2015
4.5★ Having finally read the entire series, I found that I liked this final section even more. Some sections that I previously thought a bit dull or unrelated I now realize where the continuation or wrapping up of things that had happened previously. Several of the relationships, such as that between Raoul & Louise, are not at all clear if you read this as a stand-alone but make perfect sense having read the previous parts of "Vicomte de Bragelonne; or Ten Years Later". However the book is still a fun read even lacking the nuances of these relations as long as you know "The Three Musketeers" 4 main characters.
One thing I had forgotten was how sad this book ends up being. I was feeling a bit annoyed in the middle that But upon reflection, Dumas chose the more realistic path and allowed the characters to show their sense of honor or lack thereof. I remain saddened by the division between the 4 friends which is only partially healed in the end. Poor Aramis
For those unaware, Dumas' mammoth third book in the d'Artagnan series ("Vicomte de Bragelonne; or Ten Years Later") is generally divided into several volumes, most commonly 3 or 4. Unfortunately, these volumes usually have the same name even though they cover slightly different material. This book is covers the material in the 4th volume of a 4 volume edition. I also listened to the Blackstone audiobook edition narrated by Simon Vance which is the final volume of a 3 volume edition (and also a slightly different translation although the translation information is not provided). For those wanting to read this classic as a stand-alone, I would recommend the 4 volume edition -- the 3 volume edition contains about 30% more material at the beginning (covered in my 3rd volume "Louise de la Valliere") which only minimally helps understand the relationships I mentioned above and lacks the adventure and action of the first & last parts.
One thing I had forgotten was how sad this book ends up being. I was feeling a bit annoyed in the middle that But upon reflection, Dumas chose the more realistic path and allowed the characters to show their sense of honor or lack thereof. I remain saddened by the division between the 4 friends which is only partially healed in the end. Poor Aramis
For those unaware, Dumas' mammoth third book in the d'Artagnan series ("Vicomte de Bragelonne; or Ten Years Later") is generally divided into several volumes, most commonly 3 or 4. Unfortunately, these volumes usually have the same name even though they cover slightly different material. This book is covers the material in the 4th volume of a 4 volume edition. I also listened to the Blackstone audiobook edition narrated by Simon Vance which is the final volume of a 3 volume edition (and also a slightly different translation although the translation information is not provided). For those wanting to read this classic as a stand-alone, I would recommend the 4 volume edition -- the 3 volume edition contains about 30% more material at the beginning (covered in my 3rd volume "Louise de la Valliere") which only minimally helps understand the relationships I mentioned above and lacks the adventure and action of the first & last parts.
March 21, 2018
The Man in the Iron Mask
Wow. This book is nothing like the movie, at least the one I watched with Leonardo DiCaprio and Jeremy Irons. The end was so tragic and the actual prisoner in the iron mask was such a small part of the story. Seems to me it was the complete opposite in the movie. Huh. Go figure.
I'm glad I finally read this.
Wow. This book is nothing like the movie, at least the one I watched with Leonardo DiCaprio and Jeremy Irons. The end was so tragic and the actual prisoner in the iron mask was such a small part of the story. Seems to me it was the complete opposite in the movie. Huh. Go figure.
I'm glad I finally read this.
August 16, 2021
Disclaimer: This review has been floating around in limbo for three years. It's all over the place and filled with spoilers. I'm pasting it here anyway. Cheers.
Warning: Melodrama Ensuing in 3...2...1.
Perhaps it's unwise to write so soon after finishing the book, especially when I haven't the heart (or the kidneys, or the stomach, or the...eardrums) to write a proper, GoodReads-worthy review (then again...few of my book reviews are 'worthy'... I never was good at this sort of thing).
However, I do have some thoughts I wish to get down, and I'd prefer writing them out while they're still fresh. This post will be mainly rambling, a compilation of notes and comments I wrote on various scraps of paper (or inside the front cover of the book) while reading, plus perhaps some others that may occur while putting those down. Clear as mud? Good.
Now, how to set about it...
First, let me begin by saying that there is a reason The Man in the Iron Mask (along with The Three Musketeers) is the most wellknown - and, I daresay, the most popular - of the d'Artagnan Romances. Its acclaim is well-deserved: in this final installment of the saga, Alexandre Dumas showcases some of his greatest writing abilities in dialogue, descriptions, and overall just plain beautiful (perhaps you could call it lyrical) way of putting words together. Unlike that atrocious sentence I just wrote. Still, for all that, I would argue that The Man in the Iron Mask cannot - or at least ought not - stand alone, apart from the rest of the series, and still have the same effect.
...I say 'would argue,' but I've no intentions of arguing the point here. That's all I mean to say on the matter, and I'll not venture further except in face-to-face personal conversations, where we can disagree at our leisure and in perfect safety, duels being forbidden. But moving on...
The two aspects that chiefly stood out to me in the novel were
1. Aramis's Ambition
and
2. d'Artagnan's Loyalty
1. It wasn't always easy to discern what Aramis's motivations were: no doubt they were many and varied. I would need to re-read the other books and dig deep to figure out just how far back his scheme went, but he'd definitely had this Kingmaking plan in mind for quite some time - ever since he learnt of the existence of The Prisoner, at any rate. Certainly, he wished to right an old wrong - he also wanted to be made Pope. He got his dearest friend deeply involved in this dangerous plot (with the friend unaware of just how dangerous it was), taking advantage of the fact that his friend trusted him and would go along with just about anything he suggested.
This has, from what I've seen, made some reviewers accuse Aramis of being 'cold and heartless.' However, I found him to be more 'overambitious' and 'overconfident.'
Yes, he got his friend mixed up in The Scheme, but
a. Never once was it his intention to let his friend take the fall, should the scheme fail. On the contrary, he meant to take full responsibility himself and keep his friend as ignorant as possible: "His head would pay for my fault. It shall not be so."
b. He was so certain of his plan's success. It was foolproof. He'd planned for every eventuality.
c. He was certain his plan was justified.
In the end, of course, his plan didn't go off and he paid dearly for his errors. But no one will ever convince me he stopped caring for his friends and did everything purely to feed his own ambition. (Yes, go ahead, hear that in Elphaba's voice.)
...Well, will you look at that - I said I wasn't going to start arguments here. Whoops. Those are my opinions - take or leave.
Personally, I would have been overjoyed to see The Plan carried off - Louis locked up in the Bastille for life and Philippe in his place. Would it have been right? I don't know. But it would have been very satisfying for the novel's sake.
2. Oh, d'Artagnan. After the way he served this king's parents, the way he protected this king since childhood... Could I really have expected him to act differently from how he did? No, but I kept hoping. D'Artagnan remained the King's Liege Man. He stuck by Louis XIV 'to whatever end.' He stood by Louis long after I wished he'd have chucked the skinny frogeater into the Seine a hundred times over. Whether or not his portrayal was accurate, Alex manages in the previous installments to make the 'Sun King' as despicable as possible.
On further reflection, though, perhaps d'Artagnan had it right. He was simply subjecting himself to the 'ruling authorities.' To whom, as captain of the musketeers, he'd actively pledged himself in addition to simply being a subject.
But he also did his utmost to protect his friends - he didn't simply stand aside and let things happen to them, even when they were 'on opposing sides.' No - when he thought the King was wrong, he told him so; when he had no intention of following a command he considered wrong, he told him so, and why. One advantage of his having known the King from childhood was that he had a certain amount of 'leeway' with him - not limitless, but more perhaps than others. When the King was wrong, he tried to change his mind. When he couldn't change his mind, he told him just what he was going to do and why he felt he should, but that he was ever at the King's service - unless forced, barring all other options, to resign.
Warning: Melodrama Ensuing in 3...2...1.
Perhaps it's unwise to write so soon after finishing the book, especially when I haven't the heart (or the kidneys, or the stomach, or the...eardrums) to write a proper, GoodReads-worthy review (then again...few of my book reviews are 'worthy'... I never was good at this sort of thing).
However, I do have some thoughts I wish to get down, and I'd prefer writing them out while they're still fresh. This post will be mainly rambling, a compilation of notes and comments I wrote on various scraps of paper (or inside the front cover of the book) while reading, plus perhaps some others that may occur while putting those down. Clear as mud? Good.
Now, how to set about it...
First, let me begin by saying that there is a reason The Man in the Iron Mask (along with The Three Musketeers) is the most wellknown - and, I daresay, the most popular - of the d'Artagnan Romances. Its acclaim is well-deserved: in this final installment of the saga, Alexandre Dumas showcases some of his greatest writing abilities in dialogue, descriptions, and overall just plain beautiful (perhaps you could call it lyrical) way of putting words together. Unlike that atrocious sentence I just wrote. Still, for all that, I would argue that The Man in the Iron Mask cannot - or at least ought not - stand alone, apart from the rest of the series, and still have the same effect.
...I say 'would argue,' but I've no intentions of arguing the point here. That's all I mean to say on the matter, and I'll not venture further except in face-to-face personal conversations, where we can disagree at our leisure and in perfect safety, duels being forbidden. But moving on...
The two aspects that chiefly stood out to me in the novel were
1. Aramis's Ambition
and
2. d'Artagnan's Loyalty
1. It wasn't always easy to discern what Aramis's motivations were: no doubt they were many and varied. I would need to re-read the other books and dig deep to figure out just how far back his scheme went, but he'd definitely had this Kingmaking plan in mind for quite some time - ever since he learnt of the existence of The Prisoner, at any rate. Certainly, he wished to right an old wrong - he also wanted to be made Pope. He got his dearest friend deeply involved in this dangerous plot (with the friend unaware of just how dangerous it was), taking advantage of the fact that his friend trusted him and would go along with just about anything he suggested.
This has, from what I've seen, made some reviewers accuse Aramis of being 'cold and heartless.' However, I found him to be more 'overambitious' and 'overconfident.'
Yes, he got his friend mixed up in The Scheme, but
a. Never once was it his intention to let his friend take the fall, should the scheme fail. On the contrary, he meant to take full responsibility himself and keep his friend as ignorant as possible: "His head would pay for my fault. It shall not be so."
b. He was so certain of his plan's success. It was foolproof. He'd planned for every eventuality.
c. He was certain his plan was justified.
In the end, of course, his plan didn't go off and he paid dearly for his errors. But no one will ever convince me he stopped caring for his friends and did everything purely to feed his own ambition. (Yes, go ahead, hear that in Elphaba's voice.)
...Well, will you look at that - I said I wasn't going to start arguments here. Whoops. Those are my opinions - take or leave.
Personally, I would have been overjoyed to see The Plan carried off - Louis locked up in the Bastille for life and Philippe in his place. Would it have been right? I don't know. But it would have been very satisfying for the novel's sake.
2. Oh, d'Artagnan. After the way he served this king's parents, the way he protected this king since childhood... Could I really have expected him to act differently from how he did? No, but I kept hoping. D'Artagnan remained the King's Liege Man. He stuck by Louis XIV 'to whatever end.' He stood by Louis long after I wished he'd have chucked the skinny frogeater into the Seine a hundred times over. Whether or not his portrayal was accurate, Alex manages in the previous installments to make the 'Sun King' as despicable as possible.
On further reflection, though, perhaps d'Artagnan had it right. He was simply subjecting himself to the 'ruling authorities.' To whom, as captain of the musketeers, he'd actively pledged himself in addition to simply being a subject.
But he also did his utmost to protect his friends - he didn't simply stand aside and let things happen to them, even when they were 'on opposing sides.' No - when he thought the King was wrong, he told him so; when he had no intention of following a command he considered wrong, he told him so, and why. One advantage of his having known the King from childhood was that he had a certain amount of 'leeway' with him - not limitless, but more perhaps than others. When the King was wrong, he tried to change his mind. When he couldn't change his mind, he told him just what he was going to do and why he felt he should, but that he was ever at the King's service - unless forced, barring all other options, to resign.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
May 11, 2025
dźgnięcie mnie nożem byłoby większym miłosierdziem niż ta końcówka.
April 1, 2020
“Pain, anguish and suffering in human life are always in proportion to the strength with which a man is endowed.”
What can I possibly say after nearly five years it took me to finish the franchise which shaped my character, tastes & beliefs in so many great ways?
October 19, 2015 I started reading a book which soon proved to be the greatest work of art ever written. This book, whose brilliance words cannot righthfully describe, serves as a spectacular milestone in my life, marking the point from where I began to see literature & art with entirely different eyes. I am, of course, talking about The Three Musketeers.
Its wonderful, witty and utterly charming protagonists stole my heart straightaway. Until then, I'd had no idea what it meant to truly relate to a fictional person's struggles, sorrow and pain, nor what it would mean to embark on a journey with said character, for better or worse, right till the very end where they bade their last goodbye. D'Artagnan was right beside me the whole time. We said goodbye when I couldn't see the pages through the tears anymore.
My heart still can't take the thought of so many of Dumas's divine characters and their tragic ordeals. It seems that the worst of them went on to live the longest, while the humble, noble and charitable souls suffered much too deeply and inconsolably.
Were it not for the likes of Malicorne, Manicamp, Athos, Raoul & Montalais, to name only a few, I am positive the book would lack that irreplaceable spirit and charm which only Dumas was capable of incorporating into a story. I must say, though, that I wished Raoul had been given a chance to learn the truth about Chevreuse & find peace in spite of the infidelity which had hurt him so badly.
It amazed me to discover that Louise de la Vallière was a living person and an actual mistress of Louis XIV. I would like to emphasize here that, despite the review I wrote for the prequel, Louise de la Vallière, which is supposed to be a light-hearted, humorous parody, I am far from capable of ever ridiculing such a masterpiece that The D'Artagnan Romances is. On the contrary, I am most grateful for the time in which I live and which allows great writers & their legacy to live on and never fall into oblivion.
Monsieur Dumas, receive my humble bow. Curtain, at last!
June 5, 2025
“Saint-Aignan lowered his head. ‘I am betrayed,’ he murmured. “Everything is known!’
“‘Everything is always known,’ replied Porthos, who knew nothing.”
(1850) The musketeer swan song. It is also the payoff for some long-in-the-making storylines. For example we finally learn what all the intrigue with Aramis is about. Turns out that Dumas has been assembling the pieces for an imposter-type story, based on a rather silly theory of Voltaire’s that a legendary prisoner in the Bastille was the king’s twin brother. And it will include all the fun stuff we now expect from the genre: the preparations for the fraud, in which Aramis plays the handler, supplying the imposter with notes on his new life and drilling him on them; the switcheroo, or crime rather; and then of course the minefield of the double’s new life, where he has to deceive his victim’s acquaintances and loved ones.* The suspense feels modern. Dumas is not the first to write a stolen-identity story, but he is the first I know of to use all these tropes common to spy thrillers and cinema. And as always, who knows: it may have been his collaborator Maquet.
*[That last bit is disappointingly short-lived. In fact so is the entire part played by the twin. It’s best to keep in mind that Dumas was not responsible for the title of this book].
“‘In the king’s name!’ cried he again, ‘stop, or I will bring you down with a pistol-shot!’
‘Do!’ replied Fouquet, without relaxing his speed.”
It strikes me that through this whole series the heroes and villains are somewhat malleable. The roles change of a sudden. The bad guys are often admired. The musketeers themselves, while you never doubt their hearts, have nonetheless always had a screw loose, been at odds, and in this novel Aramis, who conspires to be king-maker and pursues the papacy, is undeniably diabolical. Dumas also puts a wrinkle in the relationship between Colbert and Fouquet. We should be rooting for the charmless, unkempt, “square-headed” Colbert, who is a hardworking patriot, over the cavalier and popular Fouquet, who squanders his country’s money on himself and his friends. But by the end Dumas has fairly turned it all around—shown the self-interest in selflessness and the personal honor in disgrace. It’s style vs substance and you can’t help but see where Dumas’ sympathies lie.
“If you play the other game, you run the chance of being assassinated on a throne, strangled in a prison-cell. Upon my soul, I assure you, now I begin to compare them together, I myself should hesitate which lot I should accept.”
I knew without looking that the “night talk in the forest of Senart” would be included in Robert Louis Stevenson’s list of highlights of the novel. Aramis is excellent, the way he uses all his eloquence and empathy to persuade the prince to refuse him. I had bookmarked some of my own highlights on Audible but a glitch messed them all up.
“Two men—and they have killed ten in two discharges! It is impossible, Monsieur Biscarrat!”
“…believe me, captain, I have seen these men… I know they themselves alone are all-sufficient to destroy an army.”
The set piece around the Death of a Titan chapter is another signature Dumas climax set in a remote location, here a lonely grotto tucked away on the far shore of an isle. The skirmish becomes like something out of Rambo, or a slasher flick, as the two trapped musketeers start picking off their spooked assailants one by one, almost invisibly. I’m not ready to speak about what happens after, the sound of a man’s cry as his legs give way, the sight of him floundering “as in a dream,” the bantering last words.
When you look at it, the ending is just a disaster. The temperamental king wins, Colbert gets what he wants, Fouquet goes to the Bastille for life just to save d’Artagan’s honor, the poor man in the iron mask—his life goes from a tragedy to a living nightmare. Death death death… Dumas, I’ve noticed, is not averse to showing his heroes defeated. The “cabalistic” farewell at the end is rather haunting.
No more musketeer books left! No more d’Artagnan. I’m sad.
“Adieu! then, messieurs, or rather, to meet again, I hope.”
________________
Some favorite parts:
“Baisemeaux turned pale at this icy assurance of manner. It seemed to him that the voice of the bishop’s, but just now so playful and gay, had become funereal and sad; that the wax lights changed into the tapers of a mortuary chapel, the very glasses of wine into chalices of blood.”
____
“The fisherman informed him that six days previously, a man had come in the night to hire his boat, for the purpose of visiting the island of St. Honnorat. The price was agreed upon, but the gentleman had arrived with an immense carriage case, which he insisted upon embarking, in spite of the many difficulties that opposed the operation. The fisherman wished to retract. He had even threatened, but his threats had procured him nothing but a shower of blows from the gentleman’s cane, which fell upon his shoulders sharp and long. Swearing and grumbling, he had recourse to the syndic of his brotherhood at Antibes, who administer justice among themselves and protect each other; but the gentleman had exhibited a certain paper, at sight of which the syndic, bowing to the very ground, enjoined obedience from the fisherman, and abused him for having been refractory.”
[I really liked the scenes with Athos and Raoul at the Royal Fort on Sainte Marguerite Island, off Cannes. It would be interesting to visit. I hear it’s still full of rabbits. Incidentally, it’s pretty hilarious that d’Artagnan was again transporting a man in a crate].
____
“Aramis leaned his head upon his hands, and made no reply. Then, all at once,—‘Porthos,’ said he, ‘have the alarm sounded.’
‘The alarm! do you imagine such a thing?’
‘Yes, and let the cannoniers mount their batteries, the artillerymen be at their pieces, and be particularly watchful of the coast batteries.’”
____
“…the men had stripped a fir, growing on the shore, and, with its resinous branches twisted together, the captain had made a flambeau. On arriving at the compartment where Porthos, like the exterminating angel, had destroyed all he touched, the first rank drew back in terror. No firing had replied to that of the guards, and yet their way was stopped by a heap of dead bodies—they literally walked in blood. Porthos was still behind his pillar. The captain, illumining with trembling pine-torch this frightful carnage, of which he in vain sought the cause, drew back towards the pillar behind which Porthos was concealed. Then a gigantic hand issued from the shade, and fastened on the throat of the captain, who uttered a stifled rattle; his stretched-out arms beating the air, the torch fell and was extinguished in blood. A second after, the corpse of the captain dropped close to the extinguished torch, and added another body to the heap of dead which blocked up the passage. All this was effected as mysteriously as though by magic. At hearing the rattling in the throat of the captain, the soldiers who accompanied him had turned round, caught a glimpse of his extended arms, his eyes starting from their sockets, and then the torch fell and they were left in darkness.”
Allusions:
“In this manner they passed along a winding gallery of some length, with as many staircases leading out of it as are to be found in the mysterious and gloomy palaces of Ann Radcliffe’s creation.”
La Fontaine (who put classic fables to verse) and Moliere make appearances. Dumas suggests Moliere got his idea of the Bourgeois Gentleman from Porthos.
“‘Everything is always known,’ replied Porthos, who knew nothing.”
(1850) The musketeer swan song. It is also the payoff for some long-in-the-making storylines. For example we finally learn what all the intrigue with Aramis is about. Turns out that Dumas has been assembling the pieces for an imposter-type story, based on a rather silly theory of Voltaire’s that a legendary prisoner in the Bastille was the king’s twin brother. And it will include all the fun stuff we now expect from the genre: the preparations for the fraud, in which Aramis plays the handler, supplying the imposter with notes on his new life and drilling him on them; the switcheroo, or crime rather; and then of course the minefield of the double’s new life, where he has to deceive his victim’s acquaintances and loved ones.* The suspense feels modern. Dumas is not the first to write a stolen-identity story, but he is the first I know of to use all these tropes common to spy thrillers and cinema. And as always, who knows: it may have been his collaborator Maquet.
*[That last bit is disappointingly short-lived. In fact so is the entire part played by the twin. It’s best to keep in mind that Dumas was not responsible for the title of this book].
“‘In the king’s name!’ cried he again, ‘stop, or I will bring you down with a pistol-shot!’
‘Do!’ replied Fouquet, without relaxing his speed.”
It strikes me that through this whole series the heroes and villains are somewhat malleable. The roles change of a sudden. The bad guys are often admired. The musketeers themselves, while you never doubt their hearts, have nonetheless always had a screw loose, been at odds, and in this novel Aramis, who conspires to be king-maker and pursues the papacy, is undeniably diabolical. Dumas also puts a wrinkle in the relationship between Colbert and Fouquet. We should be rooting for the charmless, unkempt, “square-headed” Colbert, who is a hardworking patriot, over the cavalier and popular Fouquet, who squanders his country’s money on himself and his friends. But by the end Dumas has fairly turned it all around—shown the self-interest in selflessness and the personal honor in disgrace. It’s style vs substance and you can’t help but see where Dumas’ sympathies lie.
“If you play the other game, you run the chance of being assassinated on a throne, strangled in a prison-cell. Upon my soul, I assure you, now I begin to compare them together, I myself should hesitate which lot I should accept.”
I knew without looking that the “night talk in the forest of Senart” would be included in Robert Louis Stevenson’s list of highlights of the novel. Aramis is excellent, the way he uses all his eloquence and empathy to persuade the prince to refuse him. I had bookmarked some of my own highlights on Audible but a glitch messed them all up.
“Two men—and they have killed ten in two discharges! It is impossible, Monsieur Biscarrat!”
“…believe me, captain, I have seen these men… I know they themselves alone are all-sufficient to destroy an army.”
The set piece around the Death of a Titan chapter is another signature Dumas climax set in a remote location, here a lonely grotto tucked away on the far shore of an isle. The skirmish becomes like something out of Rambo, or a slasher flick, as the two trapped musketeers start picking off their spooked assailants one by one, almost invisibly. I’m not ready to speak about what happens after, the sound of a man’s cry as his legs give way, the sight of him floundering “as in a dream,” the bantering last words.
When you look at it, the ending is just a disaster. The temperamental king wins, Colbert gets what he wants, Fouquet goes to the Bastille for life just to save d’Artagan’s honor, the poor man in the iron mask—his life goes from a tragedy to a living nightmare. Death death death… Dumas, I’ve noticed, is not averse to showing his heroes defeated. The “cabalistic” farewell at the end is rather haunting.
No more musketeer books left! No more d’Artagnan. I’m sad.
“Adieu! then, messieurs, or rather, to meet again, I hope.”
________________
Some favorite parts:
“Baisemeaux turned pale at this icy assurance of manner. It seemed to him that the voice of the bishop’s, but just now so playful and gay, had become funereal and sad; that the wax lights changed into the tapers of a mortuary chapel, the very glasses of wine into chalices of blood.”
____
“The fisherman informed him that six days previously, a man had come in the night to hire his boat, for the purpose of visiting the island of St. Honnorat. The price was agreed upon, but the gentleman had arrived with an immense carriage case, which he insisted upon embarking, in spite of the many difficulties that opposed the operation. The fisherman wished to retract. He had even threatened, but his threats had procured him nothing but a shower of blows from the gentleman’s cane, which fell upon his shoulders sharp and long. Swearing and grumbling, he had recourse to the syndic of his brotherhood at Antibes, who administer justice among themselves and protect each other; but the gentleman had exhibited a certain paper, at sight of which the syndic, bowing to the very ground, enjoined obedience from the fisherman, and abused him for having been refractory.”
[I really liked the scenes with Athos and Raoul at the Royal Fort on Sainte Marguerite Island, off Cannes. It would be interesting to visit. I hear it’s still full of rabbits. Incidentally, it’s pretty hilarious that d’Artagnan was again transporting a man in a crate].
____
“Aramis leaned his head upon his hands, and made no reply. Then, all at once,—‘Porthos,’ said he, ‘have the alarm sounded.’
‘The alarm! do you imagine such a thing?’
‘Yes, and let the cannoniers mount their batteries, the artillerymen be at their pieces, and be particularly watchful of the coast batteries.’”
____
“…the men had stripped a fir, growing on the shore, and, with its resinous branches twisted together, the captain had made a flambeau. On arriving at the compartment where Porthos, like the exterminating angel, had destroyed all he touched, the first rank drew back in terror. No firing had replied to that of the guards, and yet their way was stopped by a heap of dead bodies—they literally walked in blood. Porthos was still behind his pillar. The captain, illumining with trembling pine-torch this frightful carnage, of which he in vain sought the cause, drew back towards the pillar behind which Porthos was concealed. Then a gigantic hand issued from the shade, and fastened on the throat of the captain, who uttered a stifled rattle; his stretched-out arms beating the air, the torch fell and was extinguished in blood. A second after, the corpse of the captain dropped close to the extinguished torch, and added another body to the heap of dead which blocked up the passage. All this was effected as mysteriously as though by magic. At hearing the rattling in the throat of the captain, the soldiers who accompanied him had turned round, caught a glimpse of his extended arms, his eyes starting from their sockets, and then the torch fell and they were left in darkness.”
Allusions:
“In this manner they passed along a winding gallery of some length, with as many staircases leading out of it as are to be found in the mysterious and gloomy palaces of Ann Radcliffe’s creation.”
La Fontaine (who put classic fables to verse) and Moliere make appearances. Dumas suggests Moliere got his idea of the Bourgeois Gentleman from Porthos.
September 26, 2025
I will not give away any plot points, but I do think this book should have a different title. Ultimately the focus is on those "all for one and one for all" Musketeers Athos, Porthos, Aramis, and D'Artagnan in the context of political intrigue in the court of Louis XIV, international events, and personal choices. Dumas gets overly dramatic and sentimental. I recall in "The Count of Monte Cristo" everyone grew deathly pale all the time, but I so loved that book I forgave him that. In this novel, certain men are somehow always able to look into another's eyes and see into the very depths of their heart. I rated this with only three stars because there were a couple of battles in the latter half that made me frustrated with the stupidity of men fighting and killing each other. But it made for a good summer read, and I learned some history in consulting the very helpful notes at the back of the book.
July 14, 2010
This book was not at all what I expected - how could I have gone so long being unaware that The Man in the Iron Mask is only the vehicle for everything else that happens to the musketeers? Poor Philip was content/resigned to his imprisonment until Aramis decided to try to use him to unseat the corrupt King Louis - when that failed, Philip ended up in the iron mask and then disappeared from the story.
There was a sad inevitability to everything that happened to Aramis and poor Porthos after the failed attempt, and D'Artagnan was torn between his sworn duty and his friendships.
This was not really a 4* read for me - I got lost too often in the wordy, flowery, and off-topic conversations and explanations - but it was so much more than 3* so there you are!
There was a sad inevitability to everything that happened to Aramis and poor Porthos after the failed attempt, and D'Artagnan was torn between his sworn duty and his friendships.
This was not really a 4* read for me - I got lost too often in the wordy, flowery, and off-topic conversations and explanations - but it was so much more than 3* so there you are!
February 19, 2023
I felt like the novel's name should have been the four musketeers" instead of the man in the iron mask, as philippe isn't really a main character nor event.
It just overall doesn't feel like it is very well written..
It just overall doesn't feel like it is very well written..
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
October 24, 2010
Epic story telling adventure that I just love. The details, the suspense, the brilliance that is Alexandre Dumas.
July 1, 2021
DON'T DO IT, unless you enjoy reading about nothing even remotely important or interesting. Could give a full 600 page summary in less than 10 seconds (maybe even 5).
April 21, 2024
A great way to end the story of the characters. Sad but conclusive. I just wish there was more of these books.
October 6, 2025
Wow….another amazing series completed. Probably one of my favorite stories to enjoy. In the series finale, the four inseparable friends had age, politics, ambition, and sorrow catch up with them. Dumas truly wrote a masterpiece in this series, weaving so many historical elements and personalities of the French royalty and court alongside the fictional characters he created his audience to love. The ending was a bit disappointing for me with how sad and unjust it felt for the noble four, and the subplot of Felipe felt so rushed and unresolved, but I am grateful to have known Athos, Aramis, Porthos, and D’Artangnan, to see their friendship begin and carry them through their lives and to be touched by their unflinching loyalty to one another in spite of every obstacle. A must read for all!
Read
July 7, 2025About 6 years ago, I read The Three Musketeers. Based on the movie existing, I knew there would be another book: The Man in the Iron Mask. So I looked it up to see if I could read that next.
I discovered that the Man in the Iron Mask was the last installment of what comes together as a ~4000 page series (depending on how the publisher splits it up). That day, I made a promise to myself that I would finish the series.
And today, I did it!
I discovered that the Man in the Iron Mask was the last installment of what comes together as a ~4000 page series (depending on how the publisher splits it up). That day, I made a promise to myself that I would finish the series.
And today, I did it!
August 26, 2025
Με πίκρα τελειώνω την τριλογία του Δουμά για τους τέσσερις αδελφικούς φίλους.
Πίκρα γιατί με έκανε να δεθώ τόσο πολύ μαζί τους που το τέλος με άφησε συντετριμμένο.
Εξαιρετικά κλασικά βιβλία που τα μηνύματα τους δεν έχουν εποχή, η αξία της φιλίας, της γενναιότητας, της τιμής...
Η λογοτεχνία είναι ικανή να προσφέρει συγκινήσεις, αρκεί μια πένα και ένας άξιος χειριστής της.
Πίκρα γιατί με έκανε να δεθώ τόσο πολύ μαζί τους που το τέλος με άφησε συντετριμμένο.
Εξαιρετικά κλασικά βιβλία που τα μηνύματα τους δεν έχουν εποχή, η αξία της φιλίας, της γενναιότητας, της τιμής...
Η λογοτεχνία είναι ικανή να προσφέρει συγκινήσεις, αρκεί μια πένα και ένας άξιος χειριστής της.
August 2, 2025
Dumas, au revoir. Athos, Porthos, D’Artagnan, Aramis, à jamais adieu.
🫶😢
🫶😢
October 26, 2025
What an ending to an epic series! I can not express how much I loved this. The last 100 pages were incredible, I am actually quite sad that I've finally finished them. I already know this will be a series I will want to reread.
November 8, 2025
Some scenes are a bit dull, which is on par for a classic, but the scenes that aren't dull overcompensate for the previous. 5/5
June 12, 2020
Sometimes, in a reader’s life, a book or series leaves an indelible mark. The door to the fictional world opens, and the characters and story become entwined with the reader, shaping their life and memories forever.
The Musketeers saga has been that way for me, and the experience of reading through the five D’Artagnan Romances has given me a year’s reading journey, a friend on the other side of the world, and characters that I will remember until the day I die.
If that sounds dramatic, it’s nothing compared to the twists and turns that Dumas’ legendary heroes experience as we journey alongside them for thirty-five years of their friendship.
The Man in the Iron Mask is Dumas at his story-telling best. Aramis, whose plot is hinted at in the previous Louise de la Valliere, opens the book marvelously with his impressive cunning. He wastes no time in putting his plan to action; using his always-willing, ever-trusting Porthos (who is tricked into not knowing what’s going on.) Aramis is greedy for power, and is hoping that supplanting King Louis with his secret twin brother Philippe will enable the Bishop de Vannes true influence over the throne of France.
The wrinkle in Aramis’ plotting is the Captain of the Musketeers, none other than our heroic d’Artagnan, who is determined to sniff out the plan and put a stop to any threat. D’Artagnan is the most changed; it’s so rewarding to watch him grow into a clever and seasoned man. He retains his character, though, and remains the beating, energetic heart of the original quartet.
Athos, always the guiding voice of wisdom and d’Artagnan’s BFF, is drawn into Paris’ web of politics via his son Raoul. In Louise de la Valliere, we saw Raoul’s heart betrayed, and in The Man in the Iron Mask, that betrayal has horrible consequences.
Each of the Musketeers cross paths with each other, and each meeting is heavily dosed with foreshadowing and destiny. As their separate stories come to a close, Dumas spares no sentiment or drama, and if the last 150-odd pages don’t have you blinking back tears, I don’t think you’ve been reading the same series that I have.
As I said before, this is Dumas, and the boys, at their best. The story races along, the characters leap from the pages in true Dumas-style, and the prisoner in the Iron Mask is an intriguing plot that serves as an intense, dramatic goodbye to our heroes.
If you've embarked on this literary journey, and if you’ve made it this far, fellow Muskereader, then wherever you are, I raise a glass of claret to you in honour of Athos, I lift my sword in salute to you in honour of d’Artagnan, I knowingly nod my head to you in honour of Aramis, and I give you a giant, warm embrace in honour of Porthos. One for all, and all for one.
The Musketeers saga has been that way for me, and the experience of reading through the five D’Artagnan Romances has given me a year’s reading journey, a friend on the other side of the world, and characters that I will remember until the day I die.
If that sounds dramatic, it’s nothing compared to the twists and turns that Dumas’ legendary heroes experience as we journey alongside them for thirty-five years of their friendship.
The Man in the Iron Mask is Dumas at his story-telling best. Aramis, whose plot is hinted at in the previous Louise de la Valliere, opens the book marvelously with his impressive cunning. He wastes no time in putting his plan to action; using his always-willing, ever-trusting Porthos (who is tricked into not knowing what’s going on.) Aramis is greedy for power, and is hoping that supplanting King Louis with his secret twin brother Philippe will enable the Bishop de Vannes true influence over the throne of France.
The wrinkle in Aramis’ plotting is the Captain of the Musketeers, none other than our heroic d’Artagnan, who is determined to sniff out the plan and put a stop to any threat. D’Artagnan is the most changed; it’s so rewarding to watch him grow into a clever and seasoned man. He retains his character, though, and remains the beating, energetic heart of the original quartet.
Athos, always the guiding voice of wisdom and d’Artagnan’s BFF, is drawn into Paris’ web of politics via his son Raoul. In Louise de la Valliere, we saw Raoul’s heart betrayed, and in The Man in the Iron Mask, that betrayal has horrible consequences.
Each of the Musketeers cross paths with each other, and each meeting is heavily dosed with foreshadowing and destiny. As their separate stories come to a close, Dumas spares no sentiment or drama, and if the last 150-odd pages don’t have you blinking back tears, I don’t think you’ve been reading the same series that I have.
As I said before, this is Dumas, and the boys, at their best. The story races along, the characters leap from the pages in true Dumas-style, and the prisoner in the Iron Mask is an intriguing plot that serves as an intense, dramatic goodbye to our heroes.
If you've embarked on this literary journey, and if you’ve made it this far, fellow Muskereader, then wherever you are, I raise a glass of claret to you in honour of Athos, I lift my sword in salute to you in honour of d’Artagnan, I knowingly nod my head to you in honour of Aramis, and I give you a giant, warm embrace in honour of Porthos. One for all, and all for one.
January 12, 2020
“A most unsatisfactory ending,” said my 14-year-old son after I read the last sentence. I would have replaced “ending” with “book.”
He says four stars overall. I say two.
We both loved The Count of Monte Cristo, so when he picked this for us to read together, I was excited. That lasted for the first quarter of the book – the part that actually pertains to a literal man imprisoned in an iron mask. That episode resolved, Dumas heads all over the place, with new story lines and characters arriving every couple of chapters.
(The afterword to our version acknowledges the red herring of the title, saying, “Actually, the title of this book should be The Last of the Musketeers, for the man in the iron mask is nothing but an incidental figure …”)
Yes, lots of the threads are reasonably resolved by the end, pulled together in a knot of politics and shifting favor. But the whole thing had such a jolting, fractured feel. What’s more, I didn’t really have any one I either cared about or trusted. The setup left me despising Louis but everyone in the book who feels the same eventually ends up weeping at his canny wisdom and gracious leadership. What?!
Only Porthos actually captured me, and that’s mostly because I laughed at his sweet ignorance. (Although it was also a bit because I loved his sweet loyalty.)
My son and I talked about it afterward and I pressed him for what he liked (before telling him what I didn’t like): “I liked the story and the depth of the story. I liked how he wrote it – how there were so many things happening and then they all came together at the end.” So there you go. Exactly what I didn’t like.
I’m not surprised at having to work for it when I read a classic. Old words send me to the dictionary, titles are confusing, ancient literary allusions that were once culturally normal have slipped out of common usage. (I don’t even bother looking those up.)
But usually, in exchange for the effort, I get swept up in a story, I relate to people with passions and fears I recognize. Neither happened for me with this story. I was just glad when it was over.
Read-aloud tip: Good luck with all the French names!
He says four stars overall. I say two.
We both loved The Count of Monte Cristo, so when he picked this for us to read together, I was excited. That lasted for the first quarter of the book – the part that actually pertains to a literal man imprisoned in an iron mask. That episode resolved, Dumas heads all over the place, with new story lines and characters arriving every couple of chapters.
(The afterword to our version acknowledges the red herring of the title, saying, “Actually, the title of this book should be The Last of the Musketeers, for the man in the iron mask is nothing but an incidental figure …”)
Yes, lots of the threads are reasonably resolved by the end, pulled together in a knot of politics and shifting favor. But the whole thing had such a jolting, fractured feel. What’s more, I didn’t really have any one I either cared about or trusted. The setup left me despising Louis but everyone in the book who feels the same eventually ends up weeping at his canny wisdom and gracious leadership. What?!
Only Porthos actually captured me, and that’s mostly because I laughed at his sweet ignorance. (Although it was also a bit because I loved his sweet loyalty.)
My son and I talked about it afterward and I pressed him for what he liked (before telling him what I didn’t like): “I liked the story and the depth of the story. I liked how he wrote it – how there were so many things happening and then they all came together at the end.” So there you go. Exactly what I didn’t like.
I’m not surprised at having to work for it when I read a classic. Old words send me to the dictionary, titles are confusing, ancient literary allusions that were once culturally normal have slipped out of common usage. (I don’t even bother looking those up.)
But usually, in exchange for the effort, I get swept up in a story, I relate to people with passions and fears I recognize. Neither happened for me with this story. I was just glad when it was over.
Read-aloud tip: Good luck with all the French names!
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