Chapter 17

Thus suddenly enriched, he set up a magnificent establishment in Paris. His horses and carriages were among the most splendid in the Champs Elysées, his banquets were equal to those of Lucullus, his name was in every mouth, and people wondered why the government did not interpose. They were afraid, said some, to touch the sacred person of the man they knew to be king; they did not care to meddle with an obvious impostor, whose crest was a _broken_ crown, said others; but his partizans maintained that their silence was more dangerous than their open enmity, and that the crafty Louis Philippe had given orders that his rival should be assassinated. They declared that this was no mere supposition, for late on one November evening, when the duke was returning to his quarters in the Faubourg St. Germain, across the Place du Carrousel, a dastardly assassin sprang upon him and stabbed him with a dagger. Fortunately for the illustrious victim he wore a medallion of his sainted mother, Marie-Antoinette, and the metal disc caught the point of the weapon, and received the full force of the blow; but nevertheless a slight wound was inflicted, and the duke staggered home wounded and bleeding. He was too confused to report the circumstance at any of the guard-houses which he passed, but in his own mansion he showed the dint of the cowardly blade, and the cut on his flesh. It was disgraceful, cried his adherents; it was ridiculous, said his opponents; and they did not hesitate to add, that if blow there had been it was self-inflicted.

But if the calumny was intended to destroy the faith of Naündorff's partizans, it failed in its effect. Their zeal waxed hotter than ever; their contributions flowed even more freely than before into his treasury; and they conceived the idea of solacing his misfortunes by providing him with a wife. Unfortunately, there remained the long-forgotten daughter of the corporal and her progeny who were alive and well, although somewhat impoverished, at Crossen. Their existence had to be declared, and as it was not seemly that they should be longer separated from their illustrious lord and master, they were sent for, and a governess was provided for the youthful princes and princesses. It was now the turn of the lion to help the mouse. The lady who was selected for the post was the enthusiast of Berne--the same damsel who had acted as scribe to the wandering heir--the daughter of the gentleman who had been the first to penetrate the thin disguise of the illustrious stranger in the cosy parlour of the inn.

The new governess was a real acquisition to the household, and devoted herself more to politics than tuition. Once more the duke resumed his habit of letter-writing, and epistles both supplicatory and minatory were showered upon the Duchess of Angoulême and the Duchess de Berri. To the former, however, the pretender generally wrote as to a beloved sister, whose coldness and reluctance to receive him caused him the keenest pain. He offered to satisfy her as to his identity by incontrovertible proofs, and recalled one circumstance which ought to dissipate her last lingering doubts as to his truth. He reminded her that when the royal family were confined together in the Temple, his aunt the Princess Elizabeth, and his mother Marie-Antoinette, had written some lines on a paper; which paper was subsequently cut in two and given one half to "Madame Royale," and the other half to the dauphin. "When we meet," said the pretender, "I will produce the corresponding half to that which you possess. It has never been out of my possession since our fatal separation." Even this appeal failed to move the duchess, and failed simply because she had never heard of the existence of any such divided document.

But the claims even of righteous claimants are apt to become wearisome to the public, and the interest in them dies away unless it is now and again fanned into a flame. The Duke of Normandy found it so, and devised a new means of attracting attention. Although he had gone with his followers to return his grateful thanks to God at the shrine of St. Arnould, he was not a member of the Roman Catholic Church, but he discovered the error of his past ways, and was desirous to embrace the orthodox faith. Accordingly, he was openly received as a disciple and proselyte in the church of St. Roche. His conversion was followed by that of his wife and children; but it cost him a very good friend. It was hoped that the governess would have consented to change her creed with the others. But the Swiss girl was a good and conscientious Protestant, and this wholesale conversion aroused her suspicions as to the cause in which she was engaged; she reviewed the pretensions of the duke a little more judiciously than she had ever done before, and as the result of her investigations, threw up her post and returned to her father, convinced that she had been ignorantly aiding an imposture.

But if he lost a very efficient assistant, he gained many partizans who had only refrained from acknowledging him previously by a fear lest the throne should be snatched from the Catholic party. These late adherents came to pay their homage bringing gifts, and their accession to his ranks and their contributions to his purse stimulated the duke to still more ostentatious displays of regal magnificence. His court grew to an alarming size, and at last a hint was sent from the prefecture of police, that if he did not moderate his pretensions, and behave with greater circumspection, it would be necessary for him to have an interview with the judges of the Assize Court. The threat was quite sufficient. Naündorff withdrew to a quiet abode in the Rue Guillaume, and granted his interviews in a more secret manner. Indeed, from open clamour he turned to underhand plotting, and so mysterious was his conduct that his landlord requested him to betake himself elsewhere. He found a yet more retired asylum, and still more suspicious-looking friends, until the police began to suspect that a conspiracy was on foot, and favoured him with a domiciliary visit. They seized his papers and read them; but they treated him with no great severity. They hired three places in the diligence which, in 1838, travelled between Paris and Calais. The duke occupied one of these seats, and two police agents the others, and when they reached the famous little port, his attendants placed him on board the English packet, and watched her speeding towards Dover with the prisoner of the Temple as a present to the English nation.

The duke established himself at Camberwell Green, and made it his earliest care to write to the Duchess of Angoulême, soliciting her good offices on behalf of her unfortunate brother, who had been so vilely treated by the government of Louis Philippe, and had been cast out from the country over which he should have ruled. In England he devoted himself to the manufacture of fireworks and explosive shells; and while he obtained the commendation of the authorities at Woolwich for his ingeniously-contrived obuses, aroused the ire of the inhabitants of Camberwell, who could not sleep because of the continuous explosion of concussion-shells on his premises. They summoned him before the magistrates as a nuisance, and he transferred his establishment to Chelsea. Here the emissaries, or supposed emissaries, of the French king, pursued him. An attempt was made to shoot him, and he made it a pretext for leaving a country where his life was not safe, and retired to Delft, in Holland, where he died in very humble circumstances, on the 10th of August, 1844.

AUGUSTUS MEVES--_SOI-DISANT_ LOUIS XVII. OF FRANCE.

Bloomsbury has been equally honoured with Camberwell and Chelsea in providing a home for a pretended dauphin of France, and for a dauphin whose pretensions are not allowed to lapse, although he has himself sunk into the grave, but are persistently presented before the public at recurring intervals by his sons. The story which he told, and which they continue to tell, is a curious jumble of the inventions which preceded it--a sort of literary patchwork, without design or pattern, and a flimsy covering either for self-conceit or imposture.

In this case the tale is, that, about September, 1793, Tom Paine, who was then a member of the National Convention, wrote to England to a Mrs. Carpenter to bring to Paris a deaf and dumb boy for a certain purpose. Deaf and dumb boys are not easily procurable, and ladies, when entrusted with mysterious missions, have an inveterate habit of communicating them to their personal friends. Mrs. Carpenter knew a Mrs. Meves, a music teacher, and hastened to inform her of the strange instructions which she had received from France, and the pair set out to find a child to suit the requirements of Paine. They failed, and Mrs. Meves in her chagrin told her husband of their failure. That worthy, who was then resident in Bloomsbury Square, had a son, supposed to be illegitimate, living in his house. The lad had been born in 1785, was about the age required, was in delicate health, and a burden to his father, and there was no apparent reason why he should not occupy the precarious position intended for the deaf and dumb boy, at least until a mute could be found to take his place. Mr. Meves, therefore, actuated by these ideas, proceeded to France, and, as those who now bear his name assert, succeeded in procuring an interview with Marie-Antoinette in her dungeon in the Conciergerie, where he made the illustrious sufferer a vow of secrecy respecting her son, which he kept to the latest hour of his existence. And, lest there should be any doubt about this interview, it is added that many loyalists, both before and after, penetrated into the gloom of her prison-cell, and all but one contrived to evade being detected.

At the interview it was agreed that he should introduce the lad, whom he had brought, into the Temple, and should place him under the care of Simon, the shoemaker, till a good opportunity occurred to extricate Louis XVII. The arrangement was no sooner made than it was carried out. Madame Simon, who was a party to the plot, found the "good opportunity." The dauphin was removed in the convenient basket of a laundress--perhaps the same basket which had held Naündorff, and the unfortunate bastard of Mr. Meves was left in his stead. On reaching the hotel at which Mr. Meves was staying the rescued prince was respectably attired, and, having been placed in a carriage by his new guardian, was escorted by the Marquis of Bonneval as far as the coast of Normandy. It is not said whether, during the long ride, Mr. Meves felt a twinge of remorse for his heartless conduct towards the harmless and delicate child whom he had left in the clutches of Simon; but, at all events, he is represented as reaching England in safety with his new charge. The liberated king took up his abode in Bloomsbury Square, and was adopted as the son of Mr. Meves, who had better reasons for abiding by the laws of adoption than those of parentage. At this time he was only eight years and seven months old.

But Mrs. Meves was not so thoroughly satisfied with the result of her husband's mission as that astute individual was himself disposed to be; and having learnt that the boy who had passed as her son was a prisoner in the Temple Tower, hurried off to her friend Mrs. Carpenter to tell her doleful tale, and to concoct measures for his release. A renewed search was instituted for a deaf and dumb boy, and one was found--"the son of a poor woman"--and in the month of January, 1794, Mrs. Meves procured passports, and proceeded with this boy and a German gentleman to Holland to the Abbé Morlet. From Holland the Abbé, the boy, and Mrs. Meves went to Paris, "and the deaf and dumb boy was placed in certain hands to accomplish her son's liberation at the most convenient time, but at what precise date such was carried into effect remains to be ascertained."

It is, however, more than suggested that the worn-out child seen by Lasne and Gomin, who was so abnormally reticent, was the deaf and dumb boy; and there is a wild attempt to prove either that he never spoke at all, or that, if the captive under their care did speak, it must have been a fourth child who had been substituted for the mute. The whole tale is unintelligible and incoherent; assertions are freely made without an iota of proof from its beginning to its end. If we are to credit the sons of the pretender, the dauphin was educated by Mr. Meves as a musician, and knew nothing of his origin till the year 1818, when Mrs. Meves declared it to him. In the years 1830 and 1831 he addressed letters (which were not answered) to the Duchess of Angoulême, stating the circumstances in which he had been conveyed to England, but making an egregious blunder as to the date, which his sons vainly endeavour to conceal or explain. They say, also, that a very large section of the French nobility had no hesitation in admitting the royal descent of their father. Thus the Count Fontaine de Moreau expressed himself convinced that the man before him was the missing dauphin, after examining with singular interest some blood spots on his breast, resembling "a constellation of the heavens." The Count de Jauffroy not only called and wrote down his address--21 Alsopp's Terrace, New Road--but declared his opinion that the British government was perfectly aware that "at 8 Bath Place, lives the true Louis XVII." "But, sir," the count went on to say, "the danger lies in acknowledging you, as from the energy of your character you might put the whole of Europe into a state of fermentation, as you are not only King of France in right of your birth, but you are also heir to Maria Theresa, empress of Germany." His sons add that "Louis Napoleon is aware, and has been for many years, that the person called 'Augustus Meves' was the veritable Louis XVII." At the time these words were penned the Emperor of the French was alive in this country, and a _Times'_ reviewer not unreasonably said, "If, indeed, the illustrious exile of Chiselhurst be aware of so remarkable a fact, he will surely soon proclaim it, together with his reasons for being aware of it. Aspirants to the throne of France cannot touch him further; and the triumphant proof of Augustus Meves' heirship to Louis XVI. would not only confound the councils of Frohsdorff, but it would turn the grandest legitimist of Europe into little better than a usurper, if, as was said by the Count de Jauffroy, Augustus Meves must of necessity not only be the eldest son of St. Louis, but the eldest son of Rudolf of Hapsburg to boot."

Napoleon passed away, and made no sign; but the sons of Augustus Meves (who himself died in 1859) show no disposition to under-rate his pretensions. The elder, who styles himself Auguste de Bourbon, and upon whom the royal mantle is supposed to have fallen, is not indifferent to the political changes of the time, and has again and again endeavoured to thrust his claims to the French throne before the public. In a letter dated June 17, 1871, he says--"Several articles have recently appeared respecting the chances of the Comte de Chambord succeeding to power, in virtue of his right of birth as the eldest representative of legitimate monarchy. This supposition by many is admitted; nevertheless, it is a palpable hallucination, for the representative of legitimate hereditary monarchy by actual descent is directly vested in the eldest son of Louis XVII. Periodically, the Comte de Chambord issues a manifesto, basing his right for doing such as representing, by the right of hereditary succession, the head of the House of Bourbon. Whenever such appears, duty demands that I should protest against his pretensions. Great the relief would indeed be to me could the Comte de Chambord, or any historian, produce rational argument, or rather documents, to support the supposition that the son of Louis XVI. and Marie-Antoinette died in the Tower of the Temple, in June, 1795. Those who believe this with such proof as is now extant to the general public are under a hallucination. Should, however, the Comte de Chambord or the fused party base the right of succeeding to power on the principle of inheriting it by the law of legitimate succession, I, the son of Louis XVII., should demand a hearing from France, and in France's name now protest against any political combinations that have the object in view of acknowledging the Comte de Chambord as the legitimate heir to the throne of France.... I owe my origin to the French revolution of 1789; for had not Louis XVII. been delivered from his captivity in the Temple, I should have had no existence. Being, then, the offspring of the French revolution, it is compatible with reason that by restoring the heir of Louis XVII. as a constitutional king, such would be acceptable alike to revolutionists and monarchists, and so end that state of alternate violence and repression which, ever since the revolution of 1789, has characterised unhappy France." In a still later document, he says:--"The Comte de Chambord I can recognise as a nobleman, and as representing a principle acknowledged; but the House of Orleans can only be looked upon and recognised as disloyal and renegade royalty, deserving the obliquy of fallen honour, having forfeited its right to all regal honours." From his lofty perch this strange mongrel king still awaits the call of France!

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

On the 30th of October, 1834, a mysterious personage was placed at the bar of the Assize Court of the Seine, on a charge of conspiring to overthrow the government of Louis Philippe, and of assuming titles which did not belong to him, for the purpose of perpetrating fraud. This individual, who is described as a little man, of aristocratic appearance, was another of the many pretenders who have from time to time assumed the character of Louis XVII., and his story was so evidently false that it would scarcely be worth mention were it not for the fate which befell him. For several years he had been prowling throughout France in various disguises, and under a multitude of names, swindling the credulous public; and from being an assumed baron, he suddenly developed himself into the dauphin of the Temple, and laid claim to the throne. Like the other impostors, he made his assumption profitable, and found a peculiarly easy victim in the Marquise de Grigny, a lady aged eighty-two years, who not only gave him all her ready-money, but would have assigned her estates to him if the law had not interposed. So successful was he in victimizing the public, that he could afford to keep a private printing-press at work, and disburse large sums to stir up disturbances in various parts of the country; and so hopeful, that he bought a plumed hat, a sword, and a gorgeous uniform, to appear before his subjects in fitting guise on the day of his restoration.

The clothes-basket of the laundress was brought into requisition for his benefit also, and in it he lay ensconced while devoted friends were carrying him away from the Temple, and from the rascally Simon, who was still in authority. Like Meves, he asserted that Madame Simon aided the plot, and in the course of his trial placed a certain M. Remusat in the witness-box, who stated that while he was in the hospital at Parma a woman called Semas complained bitterly of the treatment to which she was subjected, and declared loudly that if her children knew it they would soon come to her relief. Remusat thereupon asked her if she had any children, when she responded, "My children, sir, are the children of France! I was their _gouvernante_!" There was no mistaking the allusion, and her astonished hearer replied, "But the dauphin is dead." "Not so," was the answer; "he lives; and, if I mistake not, was removed from the Temple in a basket of linen." "Then," added the witness, "I asked the woman who she was, and she told me that she was the wife of a man called Simon, the former guardian-keeper. Then I understood her assertion, 'I was their _gouvernante_!'"

This extraordinary piece of evidence was entirely uncorroborated, and in reality the accused had no case. But if he was deficient in proof of his assertions, he had abundance of audacity. At first he declined to answer the interrogatories of the judge, and permitted that functionary to lay bare his past life, without any attempt to dispute his assertions; but when the witnesses were brought against him, he broke his silence, and finally became irrepressibly talkative. The authorities had traced his career with some care, and showed that his real name was d'Hébert, and that he always used that name in legal documents, such as transfers of property to himself, being shrewd enough to know that a conveyance would be invalid if executed in a false name. In his proclamations, however, he invariably appeared as "Charles de Bourbon, Duke of Normandy." In private life his favourite title was Baron Richemont, although sometimes he condescended to be addressed as Colonel Gustave; and when imperative occasion demanded, passed under the vulgar cognomen of Bernard.

The agents of police tracked him under all these disguises with the greatest facility, by means of a clue which he himself provided. Having been a man of method, he was in the habit of keeping a memorandum-book or diary, in which he recorded, in cypher, all his proceedings. This interesting volume fell into the hands of the detectives, who soon discovered the key to it, and thus enabled the judge of the Assize Court to present the sham dauphin with a very vivid portrait of himself drawn by his own hand. Among other occurrences which were recorded in this diary, was a visit which had been paid by the pretender to a certain Madame de Malabre, at Caen; and it was specially noted that he had granted this lady permission to erect a monument to himself in her garden, and to dedicate it to the Duke of Normandy; and, what was a very much graver matter, that he had visited Lyons with the express purpose of stirring up a revolution there. In some of his letters, also, he mentioned this attempted up-rising in the great city which rests on the twin rivers, and asserted that the denouement approached, and that his triumph was certain. "I am at Lyons," he added, "where I have seen the representatives of sixty-five departments. We shall march to Paris, and I have in the capital forces ten times greater than are necessary to oust the rascal!"

To follow all the evidence which was led against the prisoner would be very tedious, and worse than useless; but one witness appeared whose testimony is worthy of record. He was an old man, aged seventy-six, who was very deaf, and whose voice was almost gone. It was Lasné, the faithful keeper of the Temple. He said--

"Two people came to my house and asked me if the dauphin were really dead, and if he had not been carried out of the Temple; and I told them that the poor child died in my arms, and that though a thousand years were to pass his Majesty Louis XVII. would never re-appear."

Then the interrogatory proceeded:--

"Was he long ill?"

"He was ill for nine months after the establishment of the commune. Dr. Dessault prescribed several drops of a mixture which he was to take every morning, and three consecutive times the child vomited the medicine, and asked if it were not injurious. In order to reassure him, Dr. Dessault took the cup and drank some of it before him, when he said, 'Very good. You have said that I ought to take this liquid, and I will take it;' and he swallowed it. Dr. Dessault attended him for eight days, and every morning drank some of the medicine to reassure the Child. When Dessault died suddenly from an apoplectic stroke, M. Pellatan took his place and continued the same treatment. At the end of three months the poor child died resting on my left arm."