Chapter 11

The idea of colonizing Nova Scotia found great favour in the eyes both of James VI. and Charles I., and the former monarch rewarded Sir William Alexander of Menstrie, who actively supported the project, with a charter, dated 12th September 1621, in which he granted to him "All and Whole the territory adjacent to the Gulf of St. Lawrence, thenceforward to be called Nova Scotia;" and constituted him, his heirs and assignees, hereditary Lords-Lieutenant. The powers which were given to these Lords-Lieutenant were little short of regal; but before the charter could be ratified by the Scotch Parliament his Majesty died. In 1625, however, the grant was renewed in the form of a Charter of Novodamus, which was even more liberal than the original document. These deeds were drawn out in the usual form of Scottish conveyances, and were ratified by the Scotch Parliament in 1633.

In accordance with their terms Sir William despatched one of his sons to Canada, where, acting in his father's name, he built forts at the mouth of the St. Lawrence, and acted as a petty king during his stay. Still the project did not flourish: colonists were scarce and shy, and, in order to make colonization more rapid, King James hit upon the expedient of creating Nova-Scotian baronets, and of conferring this distinction upon the leading members of those families who most actively engaged in the work of populating the land. His successor Charles I., who had an equal desire and necessity for money, converted the new order into a source of revenue by granting 16,000 acres of Canadian soil to those who could pay well, by erecting the district thus sold into a barony, and by attaching the honours of a baronet of Nova Scotia thereto. The order was afterwards extended to natives of England and Ireland, provided they became naturalized Scotchmen.

Sir William Alexander, by unfortunate speculations, was reduced to want; his affairs became involved, and he ultimately sold his entire Canadian possessions to a Frenchman named de la Tour. The original Scotch colony depended upon the crown of Scotland: it was ceded to France by the Treaty of St. Germains, dated the 29th of March 1632; was reconquered by Cromwell; was again surrendered in the reign of Charles II.; and in 1713 once more became a British colony--no consideration being paid at the last transfer to the real or imaginary claims of Sir William Alexander.

The worthy baronet, however, notwithstanding his misfortunes and his impecuniosity, continued a great friend of the first Charles, who, by royal letters patent, elevated him, on the 14th of June 1633, to a peerage under the title of the Earl of Stirling. The earldom became dormant in 1739.

After a lapse of more than twenty years a claimant for these honours appeared in the person of William Alexander; but his appeal to the House of Peers was rejected on the 10th of March 1762, and the Stirling Peerage was commonly supposed to have shared the common earthly fate, and to have died a natural death. But a new aspirant unexpectedly appeared. This gentleman, named Humphreys, laid claim not only to the earldom of Stirling, but also to the whole territory of Canada, in addition to the Scottish estates appertaining thereto; and, in order to substantiate his pretensions, put forward an assumed pedigree. In this document he declared himself to be the lineal descendant and nearest lawful heir of Sir William Alexander, who he said was his great-great-great-grandfather. From this remote fountain he pretended to have come, following the acknowledged stream until he reached Benjamin, the last heir-male of the body of the first earl, and, diverting the current to heirs-female in the person of Hannah, Earl William's youngest daughter, who was married at Birmingham, and whom he represented as his own ancestress.

In 1824, having obtained formal license to assume the surname of Alexander, he procured himself to be served "lawful and nearest heir-male in general of the body of the said Hannah Alexander," before the bailies of Canongate, 1826. Then he assumed the title of Earl of Stirling and Dovan, and, in 1830, formally registered himself as "lawful and nearest heir in general to the deceased William, the first Earl of Stirling."

According to the patent of 1633, which was confined to heirs-male, Humphreys had no claim either to the title or estates; but he based his pretensions upon a document which, he said, had been granted by Charles I., in 1639, to the Earl of Stirling, and which conferred upon him, without limitation as to issue, the whole estates in Scotland and America, as well as the honours conveyed by the original patent. This he attempted to prove in an action in the Court of Session, which was dismissed in 1830, as was also a similar action for a like purpose in 1833.

But, although not officially recognised, he assumed all the imaginary privileges of his position, granting to his friends vast districts of Canadian soil, creating Nova-Scotian baronets at his own discretion, and acting, if not like a king, at least like a feudal magnate of the first degree. He caused notice after notice to be issued proclaiming his rights, and the records of the time are filled with strange proclamations and announcements, to which his name is attached. As a rule, these productions are far too lengthy to be copied, and far too involved to be readily summarized. They have all a lamentably commercial tone, and invariably exhibit an unworthy disposition to sacrifice great prospective or assumed advantages for a very little ready money. Take, for instance, his address to the public authorities of Nova Scotia, issued in 1831. In it, after informing his readers of the steps which he had taken to assert his rights, and the prospects which existed of their recognition, he hastens to observe that "persons desirous of settling on any of the waste lands, either by purchase or lease, will find me ready to treat with them on the most liberal terms and conditions;" and throws out a gentle hint that in any official appointment he might have to make, he would prefer that "the persons to fill them should rather be Nova Scotians or Canadians, than the strangers of England." At the same time he issued numerous advertisements in the journals, reminding all whom it might concern of his hereditary rights, and warning the world in general against infringing his exclusive privileges. At length, having succeeded in gaining notoriety for himself, he aroused the Scotch nobility. On the 19th of March 1832, the Earl of Rosebery proposed and obtained a select committee of the House of Lords, with a view of impeding "the facility with which persons can assume a title without authority, and thus lessen the character and respectability of the peerage in the eyes of the public;" and the Marchioness of Downshire, the female representative of the house of Stirling, forwarded a petition to the Lords, complaining of the undue assumption of the title by Mr. Humphreys.

It is somewhat remarkable that the extraordinary proceedings of this person should have been tolerated for so long a time by the law-officers of the Crown; but his growing audacity at last led to their interference, and what is termed an action of reduction was brought against him and his agent. Lord Cockburn, who heard the case, decided, without hesitation, that his claim was not established, declared the previous legal proceedings invalid, and demolished the pretensions of the claimant. Under these circumstances it was necessary to do something to strengthen those weak points in his title, which had been pointed out by the presiding judge, and Humphreys or his friends were equal to the emergency. A variety of documents were discovered in the most unexpected manner, which exactly supplied the missing links in the evidence, and the claim was accordingly renewed. The law-officers of the Crown denied the validity of these documents, which emanated from the most suspicious sources--some being forwarded by a noted Parisian fortune-teller, called Madlle le Normand; and after Mr. Humphreys had been judicially examined with regard to them, he was served with an indictment to stand his trial for forgery before the High Court of Justiciary, at Edinburgh, on the 3d of April 1839. The trial lasted for five days, and created intense excitement throughout Scotland. During the trial it was elicited that the father of Mr. Humphreys had been a respectable merchant in Birmingham, who had amassed considerable wealth, had gone abroad, accompanied by his son, in 1802, and had taken up his temporary residence in France. As he did not return at the declaration of war which followed the brief peace, he was detained by Napoleon, and died at Verdun in 1807. His son, the pretended earl, remained a prisoner in France until 1815, and afterwards established himself as a schoolmaster at Worcester. There he met with little success, but bore an excellent character, and gained a certain number of influential friends, whose probity and truthfulness were beyond doubt; some of whom supported him through all his career, one officer of distinction even sitting in the dock with him. The public sympathy was also strongly displayed on his side. But the evidence which was led on behalf of the Crown was conclusive, and a verdict was returned declaring the documents to be forgeries; but finding it "Not Proven" that the prisoner knew that they were fictitious, or uttered them with any malicious intention. He was therefore set at liberty, and retired into private life. Whether he was an impostor, or was merely the victim of a hallucination, it is very difficult to say. In any case he failed to prove himself the Earl of Stirling.

THE SO-CALLED HEIRS OF THE STUARTS.

After the disastrous battle of Culloden, Charles Edward Stuart, or "The Young Pretender," as he was commonly styled by his opponents, fled from the field, and after many hair-breadth escapes succeeded in reaching the Highlands, where he wandered to and fro for many weary months. A reward of £30,000 was set upon his head, his enemies dogged his footsteps like bloodhounds, and often he was so hard pressed by the troops that he had to take refuge in caves and barns, and sometimes was compelled to avoid all shelter but that afforded him by the forests and brackens on the bleak hillsides. But the people remained faithful to his cause, and, even when danger seemed most imminent, succeeded in baffling his pursuers, and ultimately in effecting his escape. Accompanied by Cameron of Lochiel, and a few of his most faithful adherents, he managed to smuggle himself on board a little French privateer, and was at last landed in safety at a place called Roseau, near Morlaix, in France. He was treated with great respect at the French court, until the King of France, by the Treaty of Aix-la-Chapelle, disowned all rivals of the House of Hanover. The prince protested against this treaty, and braved the French court. He was accordingly ordered, in no very ceremonious terms, to leave the country, and betook himself to Italy, where he gave himself up to drunkenness, debauchery, and excesses of the lowest kind. In 1772 he married the Princess Louisa Maximilian de Stolberg, by whom he had no children, and with whom he lived very unhappily. He died from the effects of his own self-indulgence, and without male issue, in 1788. His father, the Chevalier de St. George, had pre-deceased him in 1766, and his younger brother the Cardinal York, having been debarred from marriage, it was supposed that at the death of the cardinal the royal House of Stuart had passed away.

But, in 1847, a book appeared, entitled "Tales of the Century; or, Sketches of the Romance of History between the Years 1746 and 1846, by John Sobieski and Charles Edward Stuart," and it immediately created a considerable stir in literary circles. It was at once evident that the three stories which the work contained were not intended to be read as fictions, but as a contribution to the history of the period; or, in other words, the authors meant the public to understand that Prince Charles Edward Stuart left a legitimate son by his wife Louisa de Stolberg, and that they themselves were his descendants and representatives.

The first of these "Tales of the Century" is called "The Picture," and introduces the reader to a young Highland gentleman, named Macdonnell, of Glendulochan, who is paying a first visit, in 1831, to an aged Jacobite doctor, then resident in Westminster. This old adherent of the cause feels the near approach of death, and is oppressed by the possession of a secret which he feels must not die with him. He had promised only to reveal it "in the service of his king;" and believing it for his service that it should live, he confides it to the young chief. "I will reveal it to you," he says, "that the last of the Gael may live to keep that mysterious hope--_They have yet a king._"

He then narrates how, in the course of a tour which he had made in Italy, in 1773, a lingering fascination compelled him to remain for some days in the vicinity of St. Rosalie, on the road from Parma to Florence; how he had often walked for hours in the deep quiet shades of the convent, ruminating on his distant country, on past events, and on coming fortunes yet unknown; and how, while thus engaged one evening, his reverie was disturbed by the rapid approach of a carriage with scarlet outriders. He gained a momentary glimpse, of its occupants--a lady and gentleman--and recognised the prince at once, "for though changed with years and care, he was still himself; and though no longer the 'Bonnie Prince Charlie' of our faithful _beau-ideal_, still the same eagle-featured royal bird which I had seen on his own mountains, when he spread his wings towards the south; and once more I felt the thrilling talismanic influence of his appearance, the sight so dear, so deeply-rooted in the hearts of the Highlanders--_Charlie, King of the Gael_."

On the same evening, while the doctor was pacing the aisles of St. Rosalie, he was disturbed from his meditation by a heavy military tread and the jingling of spurs, and a man of superior appearance, but equivocal demeanour, strode towards him, and demanded to know if he were Dr. Beaton, the Scotch physician. On receiving an affirmative answer, he was requested to render assistance to some one in need of immediate attendance, and all hesitation and inquiry was attempted to be cut short by the announcement--"The relief of the malady, and not the circumstances, of the patient is the province of the physician, and for the present occasion you will best learn by an inspection of the individual."

A carriage was in waiting, but, in true romantic style, it was necessary that the doctor should consent to be blindfolded; an indignity to which he refused to submit, until the stranger, with effusive expressions of respect for his doubts, said the secret would be embarrassing to its possessor, as it concerned the interest and safety of the most illustrious of the Scottish Jacobites. The doctor's reluctance now changed into eagerness; he readily agreed to follow his guide, and was conveyed, partly by land and partly by water, to a mansion, which they entered through a garden. After passing through a long range of apartments, his mask was removed, and he looked round upon a splendid saloon, hung with crimson velvet, and blazing with mirrors which reached from floor to ceiling, while the dim perspective of a long conservatory was revealed at the farther end. His conductor rang a silver bell, which was immediately answered by a little page, richly dressed in scarlet. This boy entered into conversation in German with the cavalier, and gave very pleasing information to him, which he, in turn, communicated to the doctor. "Signor Dottore," said he, "the most important part of your occasion is past. The lady whom you have been unhappily called to attend met with an alarming accident in her carriage not half an hour before I found you in the church, and the unlucky absence of her physician leaves her entirely in your charge. Her accouchement is over, apparently without more than exhaustion; but of that you will be the judge."

The mention of the carriage and the accident recalled to Dr. Beaton his hasty vision of the prince, but, before he could collect his confused thoughts, he was led through a splendid suite of apartments to a small ante-room, decorated with several portraits, among which he instantly recognised one of the Duke of Perth and another of King James VIII. Thence he was conducted into a magnificent bed-chamber, where the light of a single taper shed a dim glimmer through the apartment. A lady who addressed him in English led him towards the bed. The curtains were almost closed, and by the bed stood a female attendant holding an infant enveloped in a mantle. As she retired, the lady drew aside the curtains, and by the faint light which fell within the bed, the doctor imperfectly distinguished the pale features of a delicate face, which lay wan and languid, almost enveloped in the down pillow. The patient uttered a few words in German, but was extremely weak, and almost pulseless. The case was urgent, and the Scotch doctor, suppressing all indication of the danger of which he was sensible, offered at once to write a prescription.

For this purpose he was taken to a writing-cabinet which stood near; and there, while momentarily reflecting upon the ingredients which were to form his prescription, he glanced at a toilet beside him. The light of the taper shone full upon a number of jewels, which lay loosely intermixed among the scent bottles, as if put off in haste and confusion; and his surprise was great to recognise an exquisite miniature of his noble exiled prince, Charles Edward, representing him in the very dress in which he had seen him at Culloden. The lady suddenly approached, as if looking for some ornaments, and placed herself between him and the table. It was but an instant, and she retired; but when the doctor, anxious for another glimpse, again turned his eyes to the table, the face of the miniature was turned.

His duty done, he was led from the house in the same mysterious manner in which he was admitted to it; but not until he had taken an oath on the crucifix "never to speak of what he had seen, heard, or thought on that night, unless it should be in the service of his king--King Charles." Moreover, he was required to leave Tuscany the same night, and, in implicit obedience to his instructions, departed to a seaport. Here he resumed his rambles and meditation, having still deeper food for thought than when he was at St. Rosalie.

On the third night after his arrival, while strolling along the beach, his attention was attracted by an English frigate, and in answer to his inquiries he was told that her name was the "Albina," and that she was commanded by Commodore O'Haleran. The doctor lingered on the shore in the bright moonlight, and was just about to retire when he was detained by the approach of a horseman, who was followed by a small close carriage. In the horseman he recognised his mysterious guide of St. Rosalie, and waited to see the next move in the game. The carriage stopped full in the moonlight, near the margin of the water. A signal was given by the cavalier, and in response the long black shadow of a man-of-war's galley shot from behind a creek of rocks, and pulled straight for the spot where the carriage stood. Her stern was backed towards the shore. A lady alighted from the carriage, and as she descended the doctor observed that she bore in her arms some object which she held with great solicitation. An officer at the same time leaped from the boat and hastened towards the travellers. The doctor did not discern his face, but, from the glimmer of the moonlight upon his shoulders, saw that he wore double epaulettes. It may therefore be conjectured that this was Commodore O'Haleran himself. He made a brief but profound salute to the lady, and led her towards the galley. Then, says the doctor,--

"As they approached the lady unfolded her mantle, and I heard the faint cry of an infant, and distinguished for a moment the glisten of a little white mantle and cap, as she laid her charge in the arms of her companion. The officer immediately lifted her into the boat, and as soon as she was seated the cavalier delivered to her the child; and, folding it carefully in her cloak, I heard her half-suppressed voice lulling the infant from its disturbance. A brief word and a momentary grasp of the hand passed between the lady and the cavalier; and, the officer lifting his hat, the boat pushed off, the oars fell in the water, and the galley glided down the creek with a velocity that soon rendered her but a shadow in the grey tide. In a few minutes I lost sight of her altogether; but I still distinguished the faint measured plash of the oars, and the feeble wail of the infant's voice float along the still water.

"For some moments I thought I had seen the last of the little bark, which seemed to venture, like an enchanted skiff, into that world of black waters. But suddenly I caught a glimpse of the narrow boat, and the dark figures of the men, gliding across the bright stream of moonlight upon the tide; an instant after a faint gleam blinked on the white mantle of the lady and the sparkle of the oars, but it died away by degrees, and neither sound nor sight returned again.

"For more than a quarter of an hour the tall black figure of the cavalier continued fixed upon the same spot and in the same attitude; but suddenly the broad gigantic shadow of the frigate swung round in the moonshine, her sails filled to the breeze, and, dimly brightening in the light, she bore off slow and still and stately towards the west."

So much for the birth. Doctor Beaton, at least, says that Louisa de Stolberg, the lawful wife of the young pretender, gave birth to a child at St. Rosalie in 1773, and that it was carried away three days afterwards in the British frigate "Albina," by Commodore O'Haleran.

In the next story, called "The Red Eagle," another stage is reached. The Highland chief who went to visit Dr. Beaton in Westminster has passed his youth, and, in middle age, is astounded by some neighbourly gossip concerning a mysterious personage who has taken up his quarters in an adjacent mansion. This unknown individual is described as wearing the red tartan, and as having that peculiar look of the eye "which was never in the head of man nor bird but the eagle and Prince Charlie." His name also is given as Captain O'Haleran, so that there can be no difficulty in tracing his history back to the time when the commodore and the mysterious infant sailed from the Mediterranean port toward the west. Moreover, it seems that he is the reputed son of an admiral who lays claim to a Scottish peerage, who had married a southern heiress against the wishes of his relatives, and had assumed her name; and that his French valet is in the habit of paying him great deference, and occasionally styles him "Monseigneur" and "Altesse Royal." As if this hint were not sufficient, it is incidentally mentioned that a very aged Highland chief, who is almost in his dotage, no sooner set eyes upon the "Red Eagle" than he addressed him as Prince Charlie, and told his royal highness that the last time he saw him was on the morning of Culloden.