Chapter 12

In the third and last of the tales--"The Wolf's Den"--the "Red Eagle" reappears, and is married to an English lady named Catherine Bruce. His pretensions to royalty are even more plainly acknowledged than before; and in the course of the story the Chevalier Græme, chamberlain to the Countess d'Albanie, addresses him as "My Prince." The inference is obvious. The Highland hero with the wonderful eyes was the child of the pretender; he espoused an English lady, and the names on the title-page of the book which tells this marvellous history lead us to believe that the marriage was fruitful, and that "John Sobieski Stuart" and "Charles Edward Stuart" were the offspring of the union, and as such inherited whatever family pretensions might exist to the sovereignty of the British empire.

This very pretty story might have passed with the public as a mere romance, and, possibly, the two names on the title-page might have been regarded as mere _noms de plume_, if vague reports had not previously been circulated which made it apparent that the motive of the so-called Stuarts was to deceive the public rather than to amuse them.

There seemed, indeed, to be little ground for believing this romantic story to be true, and when it was made public it was immediately rent to pieces. One shrewd critic, in particular, tore the veil aside, and in the pages of the _Quarterly Review_ revealed the truth. He plainly showed the imposture, both by direct and collateral evidence, and traced the sham Stuarts through all the turnings of their tortuous lives. By him Commodore O'Haleran, who is said to have carried off the child, is shown to be Admiral Allen, who died in 1800, and who pretended to have certain claims to the earldom of Errol and the estates of the Hay family. This gentleman, it seems, had two sons, Captain John Allen and Lieutenant Thomas Allen, both of whom were officers in the navy. The younger of these, Thomas, was married on the 2d of October 1792 to Catherine Manning, the daughter of the Vicar of Godalming. In this gentleman, Lieutenant Thomas Allen, the reviewer declares the prototype of the mysterious "Red Eagle" may clearly be recognised; and he works his case out in this way:--The "Red Eagle" calls himself captain, and is seen in the story in connection with a man-of-war, and displaying remarkable powers of seamanship during a storm among the Hebrides; Thomas Allen was a lieutenant in the navy. The "Red Eagle" passed for the son of Admiral O'Haleran; Thomas Allen for the son of Admiral Carter Allen. The "Red Eagle" married Catherine Bruce, sometime after the summer of 1790; Thomas Allen married Catherine Manning in 1792. In the last of the three "Tales of the Century," Admiral O'Haleran and the mysterious guide of Dr. Beaton are represented as endeavouring to prevent the "Red Eagle" from injuring the prospects of his house by such a _mesalliance_ as they considered his marriage with Catherine Bruce would be; and there is a scene in which the royal birth of the "Red Eagle" is spoken of without concealment, and in which the admiral begs his "foster son" not to destroy, by such a marriage, the last hope that was withering on his _father's_ foreign tomb. In his will Admiral Allen bequeathed his whole fortune to his eldest son, and only left a legacy of £100 to Thomas; so that it may reasonably be inferred that his displeasure had been excited against his youngest born by some such event as an imprudent marriage. This Thomas Allen had two sons, of whom the elder published a volume of poems in 1822, to which he put his name as John Hay Allen, Esq.; while the marriage of the other is noted in _Blackwood's Magazine_ for the same year, when he figures as "Charles Stuart, youngest son of Thomas Hay Allen, Esq." These are the gentlemen who, more than twenty years later, placed their names to the "Tales of the Century," and styled themselves John Sobieski Stuart and Charles Edward Stuart, thus seeking to persuade the world that they were the direct heirs of Prince Charlie.

There can be no doubt as to their motive; but is it probable, or even possible, that the occurrences which they describe with so much minuteness could ever have taken place? The imaginary Dr. Beaton's story as to the birth is altogether uncorroborated. What became of the attendants on the Princess Louisa, of the lady who was in the bed-chamber, of the nurse who held the child in her arms, and of the little page who announced the advent of the royal heir to the mysterious guide? They knew the nature of the important event which is said to have taken place, yet they all died with sealed lips, nor, even "in the service of the king," revealed the fact that an heir had been born. The officers and crew of the frigate, also, must have gossiped about the commodore's midnight adventure, and the strange shipment of a lady and child off the Italian coast on a moonlight night; but not one of them ever gave a sign or betrayed the fact. Such secrecy is, to say the least, very unusual. Then, returning to Prince Charlie himself, it is indisputable that when his wife left him in disgust in 1780, he had no recourse to his imaginary son to cheer his old age, but turned instinctively to Charlotte Stuart, his illegitimate child, for sympathy. In July 1784 he executed a deed, with all the necessary forms, legitimating this person, and bestowing upon her the title of Albany, by which he had himself been known for fourteen years, with the rank of duchess. To legitimate his natural daughter, and give her the reversion of his own title, was very unlike the action of a _pseudo_-king who had a lawful son alive. In 1784, also, when the pretender executed his will, he left this same Duchess of Albany, of his own constitution, all that he possessed, with the exception of a small bequest to his brother the cardinal, and a few trifling legacies to his attendants. To the duchess he bequeathed his palace at Florence, with all its rich furniture, all his plate and jewels, including those brought into the family by his mother, the Princess Clementina Sobieski, and also such of the crown jewels of England as had been conveyed to the continent by James II. If the claimant to the British throne had had a son, would he have alienated from him not only his Italian residence and the Polish jewels which he inherited from his mother, but also the crown jewels of England, which had come into his possession as the descendant of a king, and which were, by the same right, the inalienable property of his legitimate son?

The Duchess of Albany very evidently knew nothing of the existence of her supposed half-brother. She survived her father Prince Charles Edward for two years. Before her decease she sent to the cardinal the whole of the crown jewels, and at her death she left him all her property, with the exception of an annuity to her mother, Miss Walkinshaw, who survived her for some time, and who was known in Jacobite circles as the Countess of Alberstroff.

The conduct of the Princess Louisa, the reputed mother of the child, was equally strange. When she left her old debauched husband, she found consolation in the friendship and intimacy of the poet Alfieri, who at his death left her his whole property. Cardinal York settled a handsome income upon her, and her second lover--a Frenchman, named Fabre--added to her store. She survived till 1824, when her alleged son must have been in his fifty-first year; yet at her death all her property, including the seal and the portrait of Prince Charles Edward, were left to her French admirer, and were by him bequeathed to an Italian sculptor.

Cardinal York, also, betrayed no knowledge that his brother ever had had a son. When Prince Charles Edward died the cardinal adopted all the form and etiquette usual in the residence of a monarch, and insisted upon its observance by his visitors, as well as by his own attendants. He published protests asserting his right to the British crown, and caused medals to be struck bearing his effigy, and an inscription wherein he is styled Henry the Ninth, King of Great Britain and Ireland, Defender of the Faith, &c., &c. This he neither could nor would have done had he been aware of the existence of his brother's son, who had a prior claim to his own. Moreover, when the Princess Louisa left her husband, he exerted himself to the utmost of his ability to serve her; carried her to Rome; and succeeded in procuring for her a suitable establishment from his brother. Surely, in return for his great services, she would have informed him of the existence of her son, if any such son had ever been born! When the pretender's health began to give way Cardinal York was among the first to hasten to his assistance, and, discarding all previous disagreements, renewed his friendship with him, and persuaded him to make his home in Rome for the last two years of his life. Yet Prince Charles in his old age, and with death before his eyes, never revealed the secret of St. Rosalie to his brother, but permitted him to assume a title to which he had not the shadow of a claim. In his will also, Cardinal York betrays his ignorance of any heir of his brother, and bequeaths his possessions to the missionary funds of the Romish Church. Dr. Beaton alone seems to have been worthy of trust.

As far as Admiral Allen is concerned, it is not only unproven that he was a Tory or a Jacobite, but it is almost certainly shown that he was a Whig, and would have been a very unlikely person to be entrusted either with the secrets, or the heir, of Prince Charlie. Had Charles Edward been in a situation to confide so delicate a trust to any one, it is impossible to conceive that he would have selected any other than one of his staunchest adherents; yet John and Charles Hay Allen ask the public to believe that the charge was entrusted to one whose political relations seem to have been with the opposite party. They declare that the "Red Eagle" was aware of his real parentage prior to 1790; yet in the notice of Thomas Allen's marriage, which occurred two years later, he is expressly described as the son of Admiral Allen, and in the admiral's will he is distinctly mentioned as his son. As the reviewer, who has been quoted so freely, remarks: "What conceivable motive could induce the officer entrusted by Charles Edward with the care of the only hope of the House of Stuart to leave in his will, and that will, too, executed in the year of his death, a flat denial of the royal birth of his illustrious ward? The fact is utterly irreconcilable with the existence of such a secret, and appears absolutely conclusive. There was no occasion for the admiral stating in his will whose son Thomas Allen was. He might have left him £100 without any allusion to his parentage; but when he deliberately, and, as lawyers say, _in intuitu mortis_, assures us that this gentleman, the father of those who assume names so directly indicative of royal pretensions, was his own son, we are inclined to give him credit for a clearer knowledge of the truth than any now alive can possess."

Such is the story, and such is its refutation. It has had many believers and many critics. That it was advanced in earnest there can be no doubt, and the pretenders were well known in London circles. The elder of them, "John Sobieski Stuart," died in February 1872; but before his decease solemnly appointed his successor, and passed his supposed royal birthright to a younger member of the same family--a birthright which is worthless and vain.

JOHN HATFIELD--THE SHAM HONOURABLE ALEXANDER HOPE.

In the latter half of last century a farmer in one of the northern counties had in his house a very pretty girl, who passed as his daughter, and who supposed that he was her father. The damsel was industrious and virtuous as well as beautiful, and as she grew to maturity had many applicants for her hand. At last, as it became apparent that she would not long remain disengaged or single, her reputed father explained to her that she was not his daughter, but was an illegitimate child of Lord Robert Manners, who had all along paid for her support, and who was disposed to grant her a wedding portion of £1000, provided she married with his sanction. The news soon spread, and the rustic beauty became a greater toast than ever when it was known that she was also an heiress. Among others who heard of her sudden accession to fortune was a young fellow called John Hatfield, then employed as a traveller by a neighbouring linen-draper. He lost no time in paying his respects at the farm-house, or in enrolling himself in the number of her suitors, and succeeded so well that he not only gained the affections of the girl, but also the goodwill of the farmer, who wrote to Lord Robert Manners, informing him that Hatfield held a good position and had considerable expectations, and that he was anxious to marry his daughter, but would only do so on condition that her relatives approved of the union. Thereupon his lordship sent for the lover, and, believing his representations to be true, gave his consent at the first interview, and on the day after the marriage presented the bridegroom with £1500.

The fellow was in reality a great scamp. A short time after he got the money he set out for London, purchased a carriage, frequented the most famous coffee-houses, and represented himself to be a near relation of the Rutland family, and the possessor of large estates in Yorkshire. The marriage portion was soon exhausted, and when he had borrowed from every person who would lend him money he disappeared from the fashionable world as abruptly as he had entered it. Little was heard of his movements for several years, when he suddenly turned up again as boastful, if not as resplendent, as ever. By this time his wife had borne three daughters to him; but he regarded both her and them as hateful encumbrances, and deserted them, leaving them to be supported by the precarious charity of her relations. The poor woman did not long survive his ill-usage and neglect, and died in 1782. Hatfield himself found great difficulty in raising money, and was, at last, thrown into the King's Bench prison for a debt of £160. Here he was very miserable, and was in such absolute destitution that he excited the pity of some of his former associates and victims who had retained sufficient to pay their jail expenses, and they often invited him to dinner and supplied him with food. He never lost his assurance; and, although he was perfectly well aware that his real character was known, still continued to boast of his kennels, of his Yorkshire park, and of his estate in Rutlandshire, which he asserted was settled upon his wife; and usually wound up his complaint by observing how annoying it was that a gentleman who at that very time had thirty men engaged in beautifying his Yorkshire property should be locked up in a filthy jail, by a miserable tradesman, for a paltry debt.

Among others to whom he told this cock-and-bull story was a clergyman who came to the prison to visit Valentine Morris, the ex-governor of St. Vincent, who was then one of the inmates; and he succeeded in persuading the unsuspecting divine to visit the Duke of Rutland, and lay his case before him as that of a near relative. Of course the duke repudiated all connection with him, and all recollection of him; but a day or two later, when he remembered that he was the man who had married the natural daughter of Lord Robert Manners, he sent £200 and had him released.

Such a benefactor was not to be lost sight of. The duke was appointed Lord-Lieutenant of Ireland in 1784, and had scarcely landed in Dublin when Hatfield followed him to that city. On his arrival he engaged a splendid suite of apartments in a first-rate hotel, fared sumptuously, and represented himself as nearly allied to the viceroy; but said that he could not appear at the castle until his horses, carriages, and servants arrived from England. The Yorkshire park, the Rutlandshire estate, and the thirty industrious labourers were all impressed into his service once more, and the landlord allowed him to have what he liked. When the suspicions of Boniface were aroused by the non-arrival of the equipages and attendants he presented his bill. Hatfield assured him that his money was perfectly safe, and that luckily his agent, who collected the rents of his estate in the north of England, was then in Ireland, and would give him all needful information. The landlord called upon this gentleman, whose name had been given to him, and presented his account, but of course without success; and Hatfield was thrown in the Marshalsea jail by the indignant landlord. By this time he was thoroughly familiar with the mysteries of prison life as it then existed, and had scarcely seated himself in his new lodging when he visited the jailer's wife and informed her of the relationship in which he stood to the lord-lieutenant. The woman believed him, gave him the best accommodation she could, and allowed him to sit at her table for three weeks. During this time he sent another petition to the new viceroy, who, fearing lest his own reputation should suffer, released him, and was only too glad to ship him off to Holyhead.

He next showed himself at Scarborough in 1792, and succeeded in introducing himself to some of the local gentry, to whom he hinted that at the next general election he would be made one of the representatives of the town through the influence of the Duke of Rutland. His inability to pay his hotel bill, however, led to his exposure, and he was obliged to flee to London, where he was again arrested for debt. This time the wheel of Fortune turned but slowly in his favour. He lingered in jail for eight years and a-half, when a Miss Nation, of Devonshire, to whom he had become known, paid his debts, took him from prison, and married him.

Abandoning his Rutlandshire pretensions, he now devoted himself to business, and persuaded a Devonshire firm, who knew nothing of his antecedents, to take him into partnership, and also ingratiated himself with a clergyman, who accepted his drafts for a large amount. Thus supplied with ready money he returned to London, where he lived in splendid style, and even went so far as to aspire to a seat in the House of Commons. For a time all appeared to go well; but suspicions gradually arose with regard to his character and his resources, and he was declared a bankrupt. Deserting his wife and her two children, he fled from his creditors. For some time nothing was heard of him, but in July 1802 he arrived in Keswick, in a carriage, but without any servant, and assumed the name of the Honourable Alexander Augustus Hope, brother of the Earl of Hopetoun, and member of Parliament for Linlithgow.

In his wanderings he became acquainted with an old couple called Robinson, who kept a little hostelry on the shore of the Lake of Buttermere, and who had one daughter who was locally known as "The Beauty of Buttermere." The handsome colonel at once began to lay siege to this girl's heart, and was the less loth to do so because it was rumoured that old Robinson had saved a considerable sum during a long lifetime. But with his usual prudence, he thought it well to have two strings to his bow, and finding that there was an Irish officer in Keswick who had a ward of good family and fortune, and of great personal attractions, he procured an introduction as the Honourable Colonel Hope of the 14th regiment of foot. He failed with the ward, but he was more successful with the Irishman's daughter. Her consent was given, the trousseau was ordered, and the wedding-day was fixed. But the lady would not agree to a secret ceremony, and insisted that he should announce his intended nuptials both to her own and his friends. This he agreed to do, and pretended to write letters apprising his brother, and even proposed a visit to Lord Hopetoun's seat. The bride's suspicions were, however, roused by the strange air of concealment and mystery which surrounded her intended husband; the desired answers to his letters came not, and she refused to resign either herself or her fortune into his keeping.

Thus baffled, he devoted all his attention to pretty Mary Robinson, and found her less reluctant to unite her lot with that of such a distinguished individual as Colonel Hope. The inquiries this time were all on the gallant officer's side, and it was only when he found that the reports as to old Robinson's wealth were well founded that he led her to the altar of Lorton church, on the 2d of October 1802.

On the day before the wedding the _soi-disant_ Colonel Hope wrote to a gentleman of his acquaintance, informing him that he was under the necessity of being absent for ten days on a journey into Scotland, and enclosing a draft for thirty pounds, drawn on a Mr. Crumpt of Liverpool, which he desired him to cash and pay some small debts in Keswick with it, and send him over the balance, as he was afraid he might be short of money on the road. This was done; and the gentleman sent him at the same time an additional ten pounds, lest unexpected demands should be made upon his purse in his absence.

The Keswick folks were naturally astonished when they learned two days later that the colonel, who had been paying his addresses to the daughter of the Irish officer, had married "The Beauty of Buttermere," and the confiding friend who had sent him the money at once despatched the draft to Liverpool. Mr. Crumpt immediately accepted it, believing that it came from the real Colonel Hope, whom he knew very well. Meantime, instead of paying his proposed journey to Scotland Hatfield stopped at Longtown, where he received two letters, by which he seemed much disturbed, and returned after three days' absence to Buttermere. Some friends of the real colonel, chancing to hear of his marriage, paused on their way through Cumberland, at Keswick, and wrote to their supposed acquaintance, asking him to come and visit them. Hatfield went in a carriage and four, and had an interview with the gentlemen, but flatly denied that he had ever assumed Colonel Hope's name. He said his name was Hope, but that he was not the member for Linlithgow. It was notorious, however, that he had been in the habit of franking his letters with Colonel Hope's name, and he was handed over to a constable. He contrived to escape, and fled first to Chester and subsequently to Swansea, where he was recaptured.

He was brought to trial at the Cumberland assizes on the 15th of August 1803, charged with personation and forgery, and was found guilty and sentenced to death. He was executed at Carlisle on the 3d of September 1803.

HERVAGAULT--_SOI-DISANT_ LOUIS XVII. OF FRANCE.

There is no darker page in the history of France than that whereon is inscribed the record of the Revolution; and in its darkness there is nothing blacker than the narration of the horrible treatment of the young dauphin by the revolutionists. The misfortunes of his father King Louis XVI., and of Marie-Antoinette, are sufficiently well known throughout Europe to render the repetition of them tedious; but the evil fate of the son has been less voluminously recorded by historians, and it is, therefore, necessary to repeat the story at some length to render the following narratives of claims to royalty thoroughly intelligible.