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 Angouleme 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. Nauendorff 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 Angouleme, 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 Nauendorff, 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 Abbe Morlet. From Holland the Abbe, 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 Angouleme, 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'Hebert, 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 Lasne, 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."

"Was it easy to approach the child?"

"No, sir; it was necessary to pass through the courts of the Temple. The applicant then knocked at a wicket. I answered the summons; and if I recognised the person I opened the wicket. Then the visitor was taken to the third floor, where the prince was."

"Did he show much intelligence?"

"Yes, sir, he was very intelligent. Every day I walked with him on the top of the Tower, holding him under the arm. He had a tumour at his knee, which gave him a great deal of pain."

"But it is said that another child was substituted for him, and that the real dauphin was smuggled out of the Tower?"

"That is a false idea. I used to be a captain of the French Gardes in the old days, and in that capacity I often saw the young dauphin. I have attended him in the Jardin des Feuillants, and I am convinced that the child who was under my care was the same. I was condemned to death; but the events of the 9th Thermidor saved my life. I was condemned, at the instigation of Saint-Just, who caused me to be arrested by eight gens d'armes. I solemnly declare that the child who died in my arms was in reality Louis XVII."

"That he was undoubtedly the same child?"

"Undoubtedly the same child, with the same features and the same figure."

More than one impostor has tripped, stumbled, and fallen over that declaration.

But notwithstanding Lasne's evidence, on the second morning of the trial a printed sheet was circulated among the audience, which is a curiosity in its way. This document, which was addressed to the jury, was signed "Charles-Louis, Duke of Normandy," and was a sort of protest in favour of Louis XVII., who pretended to have nothing in common with the sham Baron Richemont. It asserted that "the secret mover of the puppet Richemont could not be unaware the real son of the unfortunate Louis XVI. was furnished with the requisite proofs of his origin, and that he could prove by indisputable evidence his own identity with the dauphin of the Temple. It was perfectly well known that every time the royal orphan sought to make himself known to his family, a sham Louis XVII. was immediately brought forward—an impostor like the person the jury was called upon to judge—and by this manoeuvre public opinion was changed, and the voice of the real son of Louis XVI. was silenced." At the opening of the court an advocate appeared on behalf of this second pretender; but after a short discussion was refused a hearing.

As far as Richemont was concerned, all his audacity could not save him; from the beginning the evidence was dead against him; there was no difficulty in tracing his infamous career, the public prosecutor was merciless in his denunciation, and in his demand that a severe sentence should be passed upon this new disturber of the state, and Richemont's own eloquence availed him nothing. The prisoner was, however, bold enough, and in addressing the jury, said—"The public prosecutor has told you that I cannot be the son of Louis XVI. Has he told you who I am? He has been formally asked, and has kept silence. Gentlemen, you will appreciate that silence, and will also appreciate the reasons which prevent us from producing our titles. This is neither the place nor the moment. The competent tribunals will be called upon to give their decision in this matter. He tells you also that inquiries have been made everywhere; but he has not let you know the result of these inquiries. He cannot do it!... I repeat to you that if I am mistaken, I am thoroughly honest in my mistake. It has lasted for fifty years, and I fear I shall carry it with me to my tomb."

The jury were perfectly indifferent to his appeal, and found him guilty of a plot to upset the government of the king, of exciting the people to civil war, of attempting to change the order of succession to the throne, and of three minor offences in addition. The Advocate-General pressed for the heaviest penalty which the law allowed, and the judge condemned "Henri-Hebert-Ethelbert-Louis-Hector," calling himself Baron de Richemont, to twelve years' imprisonment.

Richemont listened to his sentence unmoved, and as the officers were about to take him away, said in a low voice to those near him, "The man who does not know how to suffer is unworthy of persecution!"



THE REV. ELEAZAR WILLIAMS—SOI-DISANT LOUIS XVII. OF FRANCE.

America also has had her sham dauphin, in the person of an Indian missionary, whose claims have been repeatedly presented to the public both in magazine articles and in book form. His adventures, as recorded by his biographers, are quite as singular as those of his competitors for royal honours. We are told that in the year 1795, a French family, calling themselves De Jardin, or De Jourdan, arrived in Albany, direct from France. At that time French refugees were thronging to America; and in the influx of strangers this party might have escaped notice, but peculiar circumstances directed attention to them. The family consisted of a lady, a gentleman, and two children; and although the two former bore the same name, they did not seem to be man and wife, Madame de Jourdan dressed expensively and elegantly, while Monsieur de Jourdan was very plainly attired, and appeared to be the lady's servant rather than her husband. Great mystery was observed with respect to their children, who were carefully concealed from the public gaze. The eldest was a girl, and was called Louise; while the youngest, a boy of nine or ten years of age, was invariably addressed as Monsieur Louis. He was very rarely seen, even by the few ladies and children who were admitted into a sort of semi-friendship by the new-comers, and when he did appear seemed to be dull, and paid no attention to the persons present or the conversation. Madame de Jardin, who had in her possession many relics of Louis XVI. and Marie-Antoinette, made no secret that she had been a maid of honour to the queen, and was separated from her on the terrace of the Tuileries, prior to her imprisonment in the Temple. She had not yet recovered from the dreadful events of the revolution, and had a theatrical habit of relieving her highly-strung feelings by rushing to the harpsichord, wildly playing the Marseillaise, and then bursting into tears. Those who had free admittance into the family of the De Jourdans had no difficulty in tracing a resemblance between the children and the portraits of the royal family of France; but delicacy forbade questions, and even the most confident could only surmise that this retired maid of honour had escaped from her native land in charge of the children of the Temple. After remaining for a short time in Albany, without any apparent purpose, the De Jardins sold most of their effects, and disappeared as mysteriously as they had come.

Later in the same year (1795) two Frenchmen, one of them having the appearance of a Romish priest, arrived at the Indian settlement of Ticonderoga, in the vicinity of Lake George, bringing with them a sickly boy, in a state of mental imbecility, whom they left with the Indians. The child is said to have been adopted by an Iroquis chief, called Thomas Williams, alias Tehorakwaneken, whose wife was Konwatewenteta, and although no proof is offered that he was the boy called Monsieur Louis by Madame de Jardin, and still less that he was the dauphin of France, it is said by those who support his pretensions, that whoever considers the coincidences of circumstance, time and place, age, mental condition and bodily resemblance, must admit, apart from all other testimony, that it is highly probable that he was both the sham De Jardin and the real dauphin.

Thomas Williams, the Iroquis chief, who had some English blood in his veins, lived in a small log-house on the shores of Lake George. His unpretending dwelling was about twenty feet square, perhaps a little larger, roofed with bark, leaving an opening in the centre to give egress to the smoke from the fire which blazed beneath it on the floor, in the middle of the ample apartment. Around this fire were ranged the beds of the family, composed of hemlock boughs, covered with the skins of animals slaughtered in the chase. The fare of the family was as simple as their dwelling-place. From cross-sticks over the fire hung a huge kettle, in which the squaw made soup of pounded corn flavoured with venison. They purchased their salt and spirits at Fort-Edward; and the stream supplied them with fish, the woods and mountains with game. Such was the early upbringing of the missionary king.

The boy was known as Lazar or Eleazar Williams; his reputed father, the chief, invariably acknowledged him and addressed him as his own son; and the lad himself could tell but little of his earlier years. He had hazy recollections of soldiers and a gorgeous palace, and a beautiful lady on whose lap he used to recline; but when he tried to think closely and recall the past, his mind became confused, and painted chiefs, shady wigwams, and the homely face of the chieftain's squaw, obtruded themselves, and blurred the glorious scenes amid which he faintly remembered to have lived.

But circumstances sometimes occurred which made a deep impression even on his weak mind. Thus, when the youthful Eleazar was one day sporting on the lake near Fort-William, in a little wooden canoe, with several other boys, two strange gentlemen came up to the encampment of Thomas Williams, and took their seats with him upon a log at a little distance from the wigwam. With natural curiosity at a circumstance which broke in upon the usual monotony of Indian life, the boys paddled their canoe ashore, and strolled up to the encampment to ascertain who the strangers were, when Thomas Williams called out, "Lazar, this friend of yours wishes to speak to you." As he approached one of the gentlemen rose and went off to another Indian encampment. The one who remained with the chief had every indication in dress, manners, and language of being a Frenchman. When Eleazar came near, this gentleman advanced several steps to meet him, embraced him most tenderly, and when he sat down again on the log made him stand between his legs. In the meantime he shed abundance of tears, said "Pauvre garcon!" and continued to embrace him. The chief was soon afterwards called to a neighbouring wigwam, and Eleazar and the Frenchman were left alone. The latter continued to kiss him and weep, and spoke a good deal, seeming anxious that he should understand him, which he was unable to do. When Thomas Williams returned to them he asked Eleazar whether he knew what the gentleman had said to him, and he replied, "No." They both left him, and walked off in the direction in which the other gentleman had gone. The two gentlemen came again the next day, and the Frenchman remained several hours. The chief took him out in a canoe on the lake; and the last which Eleazar remembered was them all sitting together on a log, when the Frenchman took hold of his bare feet and dusty legs, and examined his knees and ankles closely. Again the Frenchman shed tears, but young Eleazar was quite indifferent, not knowing what to make of it. Before the gentleman left he gave him a piece of gold.

A few evenings later, when the younger members of the household were in bed, and were supposed to be asleep, Eleazar, who was lying broad awake, overheard a conversation between the Indian chief and his squaw which interested him mightily. The chief was urging compliance with a request which had been made to them to allow two of their children to go away for education; but his wife objected on religious grounds. When he persisted in his demand she said, "If you will do it you may send away this strange boy. Means have been put into your hands for his education; but John I cannot part with." Her willingness to sacrifice him, and the whole tone of the conversation, excited suspicions in the mind of the listener as to his parentage, but they soon passed away. Mrs. Williams at last agreed that John, one of her own children, and Lazar, according to this story, her adopted child, should be sent to Long Meadow, a village in Massachusetts, to be brought up under the care of a deacon called Nathaniel Ely. It is said that when the supposed brothers entered the village, dressed in their Indian costume, the entire dissimilarity in their appearance at once excited attention, and they became the subjects of general conversation among the villagers. At Long Meadow the lads remained for several years, and are represented as having made "remarkably good proficiency in school learning," as exhibiting strong proofs of virtuous and pious dispositions, and as "likely to make useful missionaries among the heathen." This encomium seems, however, to have been much more applicable to Eleazar than his companion; for, after the most persistent attempts, it was found impossible to cultivate the mind of John, whose passion for savage life was irrepressible, and who returned home to live and die among the Indians. With Eleazar it was different, and his biographer proudly records that he was called familiarly "the plausible boy."

He was as versatile as he was plausible, and in the course of his long life played many parts besides that of Louis XVII. When he had forgotten the early lessons of the wigwam, and had acquired the learning and religious enthusiasm of the New Englanders, he became a sort of wandering gospel-preacher among the Indians; but the work was little suited to him, and he found far more congenial employment when the war broke out between England and America, as superintendent-general of the Northern Indian Department on the United States side. In this office "he had under his command the whole secret corps of rangers and scouts of the army, who spread themselves everywhere, and freely entered in and out of the enemy's camp." In other words, he was a sort of chief spy; and if he had been caught in the British lines would have had a very short shrift, notwithstanding his sanctimonious utterances, and the peculiarly sensitive conscience of which he made a perpetual boast. About the same time he was declared a chief of the Iroquis nation, under the name of Onwarenhiiaki, or the tree cutter—a compliment little likely to have been paid to an unknown man, but which would not unreasonably be bestowed upon the son of a famous chief. Having received a severe wound he was nursed back into life by his reputed father, and on his complete recovery expressed his contrition for his backsliding, and his horror of the bloodthirsty trade of war, and returned to the peaceful work of attempting to teach and convert his dusky Indian brethren. He deserted the Congregationalists with whom he had previously been connected, and joined the Protestant Episcopal Church, by which he was ordained, and to which he remained faithful during the later years of his life.

By this time he was convinced that he was no Indian, and believed that he was the son of some noble Frenchman, but he scarcely ventured to think that he was a pure Bourbon; although dim suspicions of his royal descent sometimes haunted him, although friends assured him that his likeness to the French king was so strong that his origin was beyond question, and although he had certain marks on his body which corresponded with those said to exist on the person of the dauphin. But as he got older, the evidence in favour of his illustrious parentage seemed to grow stronger; if he was questioned on the subject he was too truthful to deny what he thought, and the knowledge of his name and the number of those who believed in him rapidly increased. At last, according to his own story, an event occurred which placed the matter beyond all doubt.

The Prince de Joinville was travelling in America in 1841, and what happened in the course of his travels to the Rev. Eleazar Williams that gentleman may be left to tell. He says—"In October 1841, I was on my way from Buffalo to Green Bay, and took a steamer from the former place bound to Chicago, which touched at Mackinac, and left me there to await the arrival of the steamer from Buffalo to Green Bay. Vessels which had recently come in announced the speedy arrival of the Prince de Joinville; public expectation was on tiptoe, and crowds were on the wharves. The steamer at length came in sight, salutes were fired and answered, the colours run up, and she came into port in fine style. Immediately she touched the Prince and his retinue came on shore, and went out some little distance from the town to visit some natural curiosities in the neighbourhood. The steamer awaited their return. During their absence I was standing on the wharf among the crowd, when Captain John Shook came up to me and asked whether I was going on to Green Bay, adding that the Prince de Joinville had made inquiries of him concerning a Rev. Mr. Williams, and that he had told the prince he knew such a person, referring to me, whom he supposed was the man he meant, though he could not imagine what the prince could want with or know of me. I replied to the captain in a laughing way, without having any idea what a deep meaning attached to my words—'Oh, I am a great man, and great men will of course seek me out.'

"Soon after, the prince and his suite arrived and went on board. I did the same, and the steamer put to sea. When we were fairly out on the water, the captain came to me and said, 'The prince, Mr. Williams, requests me to say to you that he desires to have an interview with you, and will be happy either to have you come to him, or allow me to introduce him to you.' 'Present my compliments to the prince,' I said, 'and say I put myself entirely at his disposal, and will be proud to accede to whatever may be his wishes in the matter.' The captain again retired, and soon returned, bringing the Prince de Joinville, with him. I was sitting at the time on a barrel. The prince not only started with evident and involuntary surprise when he saw me, but there was great agitation in his face and manner—a slight paleness and a quivering of the lip—which I could not help remarking at the time, but which struck me more forcibly afterwards in connection with the whole train of circumstances, and by contrast with his usual self-possessed manner. He then shook me earnestly and respectfully by the hand, and drew me immediately into conversation. The attention he paid me seemed not only to astonish myself and the passengers, but also the prince's retinue.

"At dinner-time there was a separate table laid for the prince and his companions, and he invited me to sit with them, and offered me the seat of honour by his side. But I was a little abashed by the attentions of the prince, so I thought I would keep out of the circle, and begged the prince to excuse me, and permit me to dine at the ordinary table with the passengers, which I accordingly did. After dinner the conversation turned between us on the first French settlement in America, the valour and enterprise of the early adventurers, and the loss of Canada to France, at which the prince expressed deep regret. He was very copious and fluent in speech, and I was surprised at the good English he spoke; a little broken, indeed, like mine, but very intelligible. We continued talking late into the night, reclining in the cabin on the cushions in the stern of the boat. When we retired to rest, the prince lay on the locker, and I in the first berth next to it.

"The next day the steamer did not arrive at Green Bay until about three o'clock, and during most of the time we were in conversation. On our arrival the prince said I would oblige him by accompanying him to his hotel, and taking up my quarters at the Astor House. I begged to be excused, as I wished to go to the house of my father-in-law. He replied he had some matters of great importance to speak to me about; and as he could not stay long at Green Bay, but would take his departure the next day, or the day after, he wished I would comply with his request. As there was some excitement consequent on the prince's arrival, and a great number of persons were at the Astor House wishing to see him, I thought I would take advantage of the confusion to go to my father-in-law's, and promised to return in the evening when he would be more private. I did so, and on my return found the prince alone, with the exception of one attendant, whom he dismissed. He opened the conversation by saying he had a communication to make to me of a very serious nature as concerned himself, and of the last importance to me; that it was one in which no others were interested, and therefore, before proceeding farther, he wished to obtain some pledge of secrecy, some promise that I would not reveal to any one what he was going to say. I demurred to any such conditions being imposed previous to my being acquainted with the nature of the subject, as there might be something in it, after all, prejudicial and injurious to others; and it was at length, after some altercation, agreed that I should pledge my honour not to reveal what the prince was going to say, provided there was nothing in it prejudicial to any one, and I signed a promise to this effect on a sheet of paper. It was vague and general, for I would not tie myself down to absolute secrecy, but left the matter conditional. When this was done the prince spoke to this effect—

"'You have been accustomed, sir, to consider yourself a native of this country, but you are not. You are of foreign descent; you were born in Europe, sir; and however incredible it may at first sight seem to you, you are the son of a king. There ought to be much consolation to you to know this fact. You have suffered a great deal, and have been brought very low; but you have not suffered more or been more degraded than my father, who was long in exile and in poverty in this country; but there is this difference between him and you, that he was all along aware of his high birth, whereas you have been spared the knowledge of your origin.'

"When the prince said this I was much overcome, and thrown into a state of mind which you can easily imagine. In fact, I hardly knew what to do or say; and my feelings were so much excited that I was like one in a dream. However, I remember I told him his communication was so startling and unexpected that he must forgive me for being incredulous, and that I was really between two."

"'What do you mean,' he said, 'by being between two?'

"I replied that, on the one hand, it scarcely seemed to me he could believe what he said; and, on the other, I feared he might be under some mistake as to the person. He assured me, however, he would not trifle with my feelings on such a subject, and had ample means in his possession to satisfy me that there was no mistake whatever. I requested him to proceed with the disclosure partly made, and to inform me in full of the secret of my birth. He replied that, in doing so, it was necessary that a certain process should be gone through in order to guard the interest of all parties concerned. I inquired what kind of process he meant. Upon this the prince rose and went to his trunk, which was in the room, and took from it a parchment which he laid on the table and set before me, that I might read and give him my determination in regard to it. There were also on the table pen and ink and wax, and he placed there a governmental seal of France—the one, if I mistake not, used under the old monarchy. The document which the prince placed before me was very handsomely written in double parallel columns of French and English. I continued intently reading and considering it for a space of four or five hours. During this time the prince left me undisturbed, remaining for the most part in the room, but he went out three or four times.

"The purport of the document which I read repeatedly word by word, comparing the French with the English, was this: It was a solemn abdication of the crown of France in favour of Louis Philippe by Charles Louis, the son of Louis XVI., who was styled Louis XVII., King of France and Navarre, with all accompanying names and titles of honour, according to the custom of the old French monarchy, together with a minute specification in legal phraseology of the conditions and considerations and provisos upon which the abdication was made. These conditions were, in brief, that a princely establishment should be secured to me either in America or in France, at my option, and that Louis Philippe would pledge himself on his part to secure the restoration, or an equivalent for it, of all the private property of the royal family rightfully belonging to me, which had been confiscated in France during the revolution, or in any way got into other hands."

After excusing himself for not taking a copy of this precious document when he had the chance, and mentioning, among other reasons, "the sense of personal dignity which had been excited by these disclosures," the Rev. Eleazar proceeds with his narrative:—

"At length I made my decision, and rose and told the prince that I had considered the matter fully in all its aspects, and was prepared to give him my definite answer upon the subject; and then went on to say, that whatever might be the personal consequences to myself, I felt I could not be the instrument of bartering away with my own hand the rights pertaining to me by my birth, and sacrificing the interests of my family, and that I could only give to him the answer which De Provence gave to the ambassador of Napoleon at Warsaw—'Though I am in poverty and exile, I will not sacrifice my honour.'

"The prince upon this assumed a loud tone, and accused me of ingratitude in trampling upon the overtures of the king, his father, who, he said, was actuated in making the proposition more by feelings of kindness and pity towards me than by any other consideration, since his claim to the French throne rested on an entirely different basis to mine—viz., not that of hereditary descent, but of popular election. When he spoke in this strain, I spoke loud also, and said that as he, by his disclosure, had put me in the position of a superior, I must assume that position, and frankly say that my indignation was stirred by the memory that one of the family of Orleans had imbrued his hands in my father's blood, and that another now wished to obtain from me an abdication of the throne. When I spoke of superiority, the prince immediately assumed a respectful attitude, and remained silent for several minutes. It had now grown very late, and we parted, with a request from him that I would reconsider the proposal of his father, and not be too hasty in my decision. I returned to my father-in-law's, and the next day saw the prince again, and on his renewal of the subject gave him a similar answer. Before he went away he said, 'Though we part, I hope we part friends.'"

And this tale is not intended for burlesque or comedy, but as a sober account of transactions which really took place. It was published in a respectable magazine, it has been re-produced in a book which sets forth the claims of "The Lost Prince," and it was brought so prominently before the Prince de Joinville that he was compelled either to corroborate it or deny it. His answer is very plain. He had a perfect recollection of being on board the steamer at the time and place mentioned, and of meeting on board the steamboat "a passenger whose face he thinks he recognises in the portrait given in the Monthly Magazine, but whose name had entirely escaped his memory. This passenger seemed well informed respecting the history of America during the last century. He related many anecdotes and interesting particulars concerning the French, who took part and distinguished themselves in these events. His mother, he said, was an Indian woman of the great tribe of Iroquis, and his father was French. These details could not fail to vividly interest the prince, whose voyage to the district had for its object to retrace the glorious path of the French, who had first opened to civilisation these fine countries. All which treats of the revelation which the prince made to Mr. Williams of the mystery of his birth, all which concerns the pretended personage of Louis XVII., is from one end to the other a work of the imagination—a fable woven wholesale—a speculation upon the public credulity."

* * * * *

These are but a few of the numerous sham dauphins who have at various times appeared. One author, who has written a history of the elder branch of the House of Bourbon, estimates the total number of pretenders at a dozen and a half, while M. Beauchesne increases the list to thirty. But few, besides those whose history has been given, succeeded in gaining notoriety, and all failed to rouse the French authorities to punish or even to notice their transparent impostures.

* * * * *



THOMAS PROVIS—CALLING HIMSELF SIR RICHARD HUGH SMYTH.

Great excitement prevailed throughout England towards the close of the year 1853, in consequence of the result of a trial which took place at the autumn assizes at Gloucester. A person calling himself Sir Richard Hugh Smyth laid claim to an extinct baronetcy, and brought an action of ejectment to recover possession of vast estates, situated in the neighbourhood of Bristol, and valued at nearly L30,000 a-year. The baronetcy in question had become, or was supposed to have become, extinct on the death of Sir John Smyth, in 1849, and at his decease the estates had passed to his sister Florence; and when she died, in 1852, had devolved upon her son, who was then a minor, and who was really the defendant in the cause. Mr. Justice Coleridge presided at the trial, Mr. (afterwards Lord-Justice) Bovill appeared for the claimant, and Sir Frederick Thesiger represented the defendant.

According to the opening address of the counsel for the plaintiff, his client had been generally supposed to be the son of a carpenter of Warminster named Provis, and had been brought up in this man's house as one of his family. When the lad arrived at an age to comprehend such matters, he perceived that he was differently treated from the other members of the household, and, from circumstances which came to his knowledge, was led to suspect that Provis was not really his father, but that he was the son of Sir Hugh Smyth of Ashton Hall, near Bristol, and the heir to a very extensive property. It seemed that this baronet had married a Miss Wilson, daughter of the Bishop of Bristol, in 1797, that she had died childless some years later, and that he had, in 1822, united himself to a Miss Elizabeth. The second union proved as fruitless as the first, and when Sir Hugh himself died, in 1824, his brother John succeeded to the title and the greater portion of the property. By-and-by, however, certain facts came to the ears of the plaintiff, which left no doubt on his mind that he was the legitimate son of Sir Hugh Smyth, by a first and hitherto concealed marriage with Jane, daughter of Count Vandenbergh, to whom he had been secretly married in Ireland, in 1796. But, although the plaintiff was thus convinced himself, he knew that, while he possessed documents which placed his origin beyond a doubt, it would be extremely difficult for a person in his humble circumstances to substantiate his claim, or secure the services of a lawyer bold enough to take his case in hand, and refrained from demanding his rights until 1849; in which year, rendered desperate by delay, he went personally to Ashton Hall, obtained an interview with Sir John Smyth, and communicated to him his relationship and his claims. The meeting was much more satisfactory than might have been expected. As Sir John had been party to certain documents which were executed by his brother in his lifetime (which were among those which had been discovered), and in which the circumstances of the concealed marriage and the birth of the claimant were acknowledged, it was useless for him to deny the justice of the demand, and he recognised his nephew without demur. But the excitement of the interview was too great for his failing strength, and he was found dead in bed next morning. Thus all the hopes of the real heir were dashed to the ground, for it was not to be expected that the next-of-kin, who knew nothing of the supposed Provis, or of Sir Hugh's marriage, would yield up the estates to an utter stranger, without a severe struggle and a desperate litigation. He, therefore, refrained from putting forth his pretensions, and travelled the country with his wife and children, obtaining a precarious living by delivering lectures; and he took no steps to enforce his rights until 1851, when, after negotiations with several legal firms, he at length found the means of pursuing his claims before the tribunals of his country.

In support of the plaintiff's case a number of documents, family relics, portraits, rings, seals, &c, were put in evidence. At the time when the marriage was said to have taken place there was no public registration in Ireland, but a Family Bible was produced which bore on a fly-leaf a certification by the Vicar of Lismore that a marriage had been solemnized on the 19th of May, 1796, "between Hugh Smyth of Stapleton, in the county of Gloucester, England, and Jane, daughter of Count John Samuel Vandenbergh, by Jane, the daughter of Major Gookin and Hesther, his wife, of Court Macsherry, county of Cork, Ireland." In the same Bible was an entry of the plaintiffs baptism, signed by the officiating clergyman. A brooch was produced with the name of Jane Gookin upon it, and a portrait of the claimant's mother, as well as a letter addressed by Sir Hugh Smyth to his wife on the eve of her delivery, in which he introduced a nurse to her. Besides these, there were two formal documents which purported to be signed by Sir Hugh Smyth, in which he solemnly declared the plaintiff to be his son. The first of these declarations was written when the baronet was in extreme ill-health, in 1822, and was witnessed by his brother John and three other persons. It was discovered in the possession of a member of the family of Lydia Reed, the plaintiff's nurse. The second paper, which was almost the same in its terms, was discovered in the keeping of an attorney's clerk, who had formerly lived in Bristol. The following is a copy of it:—

"I, Sir Hugh Smyth, of Ashton Park, in the county of Somerset, and of Rockley House, in the county of Wilts, do declare that, in the year 1796, I was married in the county of Cork, in Ireland, by the Rev. Verney Lovett, to Jane, the daughter of Count Vandenbergh, by Jane, the daughter of Major Gookin, of Court Macsherry, near Bandon. Witnesses thereto—The Countess of Bandon and Consena Lovett. In the following year, Jane Smyth, my wife, came to England, and, immediately after giving birth to a son, she died on the 2d day of February, 1797, and she lies buried in a brick vault in Warminster churchyard. My son was consigned to the care of my own nurse, Lydia Reed, who can at any time identify him by marks upon his right hand, but more especially by the turning up of both the thumbs, an indelible mark of identity in our family. My son was afterwards baptized by the Rev. James Symes of Midsomer Norton, by the names of Richard Hugh Smyth; the sponsors being the Marchioness of Bath and the Countess of Bandon, who named him Richard, after her deceased brother, Richard Boyle. Through the rascality of my butler, Grace, my son left England for the continent, and was reported to me as having died there; but, at the death of Grace, the truth came out that my son was alive, and that he would soon return to claim his rights. Now, under the impression of my son's death, I executed a will in 1814. That will I do, by this document, declare null and void, and, to all intents and purposes, sett asside(sic) in all its arrangements; the payment of my just debts, the provision for John, the son, of the late Elizabeth Howell, and to the fulfilment of all matters not interfering with the rights of my heir-at-law. Now, to give every assistance to my son, should he ever return, I do declare him my legitimate son and heir to all the estates of my ancestors, and which he will find amply secured to him and his heirs for ever by the will of his grandfather, the late Thomas Smyth of Stapleton, Esq.; and further, by the will of my uncle, the late Sir John Hugh Smyth, baronet. Both those wills so fully arrange for the security of the property in possession or reversion that I have now only to appoint and constitute my beloved brother John Smyth, Esq., my only executor for his life; and I do by this deed place the utmost confidence in my brother that he will at any future time do my son justice. And I also entreat my son to cause the remains of his mother to be removed to Ashton, and buried in the family vault close to my side, and to raise a monument to her memory.

"Now, in furtherance of the object of this deed, I do seal with my seal, and sign it with my name, and in the presence of witnesses, this 10th day of September, in the year of our Lord, 1823. HUGH SMYTH (L.S.). William Edwards. William Dobbson. James Abbott."

After some proof had been given as to the genuineness of the signatures to this and the other documents, the plaintiff was put into the witness-box. He said that his recollections extended back to the time when he was three years and a half old, when he lived with Mr. Provis, a carpenter in Warminster. There was at that time an elderly woman and a young girl living there, the former being Mrs. Reed, the wet-nurse, and the latter Mary Provis, who acted as nursemaid. He stayed at the house of Provis until Grace, Sir Hugh's butler, took him away, and placed him at the school of Mr. Hill at Brislington, where he remained for a couple of years, occasionally visiting Colonel Gore and the family of the Earl of Bandon at Bath. From Brislington he was transferred by the Marchioness of Bath to Warminster Grammar School, and thence to Winchester College, where he resided as a commoner until 1810. He stated that he left Winchester because his bills had not been paid for the last eighteen months; and, by the advice of Dr. Goddard, then headmaster of the school, proceeded to London, and told the Marchioness of Bath what had occurred. The marchioness kept him for a few days in her house in Grosvenor Square, but "being a woman of high tone, and thinking that possibly he was too old for her protection," she advised him to go to Ashton Court to his father, telling him at the same time that Sir Hugh Smyth was his father. She also gave him some L1400 or L1500 which had been left to him by his mother, but declined to tell him anything respecting her, and referred him for further information to the Bandon family. The marchioness, however, informed him that her steward, Mr. Davis, at Warminster, was in possession of the deceased Lady Smyth's Bible, pictures, jewellery, and trinkets. But the lad, finding himself thus unexpectedly enriched, sought neither his living father nor the relics of his dead mother, but had recourse to an innamorata of his own, and passed three or four months in her delicious company. He afterwards went abroad, and returned to England with exhausted resources in 1826. He then made inquiries respecting Sir Hugh Smyth, his supposed father, and discovered that he had been dead for some time, and that the title and estates had passed to Sir John. Under these circumstances he believed it to be useless to advance his claim, and supported himself for the eleven years which followed by lecturing on education at schools and institutions throughout England and Ireland.

Up to this time he had never made any inquiry for the things which the Marchioness of Bath had informed him were under the care of Mr. Davis; but, in 1839, he visited Frome in order to procure them, and then found that Davis was dead. Old Mr. Provis, who had brought him up, was the only person whom he met, and with him he had some words for obstinately refusing to give him any information respecting his mother. The interview was a very stormy one; but old Provis, who was so angry with him at first that he struck him with his stick, quickly relented, and gave him the Bible, the jewellery, and the heir-looms which he possessed. Moreover, he showed him a portrait of Sir Hugh which hung in his own parlour, and gave him a bundle of sealed papers with instructions to take them to Mr. Phelps, an eminent solicitor at Warminster. The jewellery consisted of four gold rings and two brooches. One ring was marked with the initials "J.B.," supposed to be those of "James Bernard;" and on one of the brooches were the words "Jane Gookin" at length.

The claimant further stated that, on the 19th of May, 1849, he procured an interview with Sir John Smyth at Ashton Court. He said that the baronet seemed to recognise him from the first, and was excessively agitated when he told him who he was. To calm him, the so-called Sir Richard said that he had not come to take possession of his title or property, but only wanted a suitable provision for his family. It was, therefore, arranged that Sir John's newly-found nephew should proceed to Chester and fetch his family, and that they should stay at Ashton Court, while he would live at Heath House.

But the fates seemed to fight against the rightful heir. When he returned from Chester twelve days later, accompanied by his spouse and her progeny, the first news he heard was that Sir John had been found dead in his bed on the morning after his previous visit. All his hopes were destroyed, and he reverted calmly to his old trade of stump orator, which he pursued with equanimity from 1839 till 1851. During this time he vainly endeavoured to secure the services of a sanguine lawyer to take up his case on speculation, and it was not until the latter year that he succeeded; but when the hopeful solicitor once took the affair in hand, evidence flowed in profusely, and he was at last enabled to lay his claims before her Majesty's judges at Gloucester assizes. Such, at least, was his own story.

In cross-examination he stated that although Provis had two sons, named John and Thomas, he only knew the younger, and had but little intercourse with John, who was the elder. He described his youthful life in the carpenter's house, and represented himself "as the gentleman of the place," adding that he wore red morocco shoes, was never allowed to be without his nurse, and "did some little mischief in the town, according to his station in life, for which mischief nobody was allowed to check him." After a lengthy cross-examination as to his relationship with the Marchioness of Bath and his alleged interview with Sir John Smyth, he admitted that as a lecturer he had passed under the name of Dr. Smyth. He denied that he had ever used the name of Thomas Provis, or stated that John Provis, the Warminster carpenter, was his father, or visited the members of the Provis family on a footing of relationship with them. As far as the picture, which he said the carpenter pointed out to him in his parlour as the portrait of his father, was concerned, and which, when produced, bore the inscription, "Hugh Smyth, Esq., son of Thomas Smyth, Esq., of Stapleton, county of Gloucester, 1796," he indignantly repudiated the idea that it was a likeness of John Provis the younger, although he reluctantly admitted that the old carpenter sometimes entertained the delusion that the painting represented his son John, and that the inscription had not been perceivable until he washed it with tartaric acid, which, he declared, was excellent for restoring faded writings. He was then asked about some seals which he had ordered to be engraved by Mr. Moring, a seal engraver in Holborn, and admitted giving an order for a card-plate and cards; but denied that at the same time he had ordered a steel seal to be made according to a pattern which he produced, which bore the crest, garter, and motto of the Smyths of Long Ashton. However, he acknowledged giving a subsequent order for two such seals. On one of these seals the family motto, "Qui capit capitur" had been transformed, through an error of the engraver, into "Qui capit capitor," but he said he did not receive it until the 7th of June, and that consequently he could not have placed it on the deed in which Sir Hugh Smyth so distinctly acknowledged the existence of a son by a first marriage—a deed which he declared he had never seen till the 17th of March. A letter was then put into court, dated the 13th of March, which he admitted was in his handwriting, and which bore the impress of the mis-spelled seal. Thus confronted with this damning testimony, the plaintiff turned pale, and requested permission to leave the court to recover from a sudden indisposition which had overtaken him, when, just at this juncture, the cross-examining counsel received a telegram from London, in consequence of which he asked, "Did you, in January last, apply to a person at 361 Oxford Street, to engrave for you the Bandon crest upon the rings produced, and also to engrave 'Gookin' on the brooch?" The answer, very hesitatingly given, was, "Yes, I did." The whole conspiracy was exposed; the plot was at an end. The plaintiff's counsel threw up their briefs, a verdict for the defendants was returned, and the plaintiff himself was committed by the judge on a charge of perjury, to which a charge of forgery was subsequently added.

The second trial took place at the following spring assizes at Gloucester. The evidence for the crown showed the utter hollowness of the plaintiff's claim. The attorney's clerk, from whom the impostor had stated he received the formal declaration of Sir Hugh Smyth, was called, and declared that he had written the letter which was said to have accompanied the deed, from the prisoner's dictation; the deed was produced at the time, and the witness took a memorandum of the name of the attesting witnesses on the back of a copy of his letter. This copy, with the endorsement, was produced in court. The brown paper which the prisoner had sworn formed the wrapper of the deed when he received it, was proved to be the same in which Mr. Moring, the engraver, had wrapped up a seal which he had sent to the prisoner—the very seal in which the engraver had made the unlucky blunder. It was also clearly proved that the parchment on which the forgery had been written was prepared by a process which had only been discovered about ten years, and chemical experts were decidedly of opinion that the ink had received its antique appearance by artificial means, and that the wax was undoubtedly modern. Various startling errors and discrepancies were pointed out in the document itself, the most noteworthy being a reference made to Sir Hugh's wife, as "the late Elizabeth Howell," whereas that lady was alive and in good health at the time the deed was supposed to have been drawn up, and having been previously married to Sir Hugh, was known as Lady Smyth up to her death in 1841, she having survived her husband seventeen years.

The picture, which had been produced on the first trial as a portrait of Sir Hugh, was proved beyond all doubt to be that of John Provis, the eldest son of the carpenter; and the prisoner's sister, a married woman named Mary Heath, on being placed in the witness-box, recognised him at once as her youngest brother, Thomas Provis; and said she had never heard of his being any other, although she knew that upon taking up the trade of lecturing he had assumed the name of "Dr. Smyth." Several persons, who were familiarly acquainted with the carpenter's family, also recognised him as Tom Provis; and evidence was led to identify him as a person who had kept a school at Ladymede, Bath, and had been compelled to abscond for disgraceful conduct towards his pupils. They, however, failed to do so very clearly; "whereon," says the reporter, "the prisoner, with an air of great triumph, produced an enormous pig-tail, which up to this moment had been kept concealed under his coat, and turning round ostentatiously, displayed this appendage to the court and jury, appealing to it as an irrefragable proof of his aristocratic birth, and declaiming with solemn emphasis that he was born with it. He added also that his son was born with one six inches long." Cocks, the engraver, proved that he was employed by the prisoner, in January, 1853, to engrave the inscriptions on the rings, which the prisoner had selected on the supposition that they were antique rings; but, in fact, they were modern antiques. Mr. Moring also gave evidence as to the engraving of the fatal seal. On this evidence Provis was found guilty, and was sentenced to twenty years' transportation. He retained his composure to the last, and before his trial assigned all his right, title, and interest in the Smyth estates to his eldest son, lest they should become forfeited to the crown by his conviction for felony.

His history was well known to the authorities, who were prepared to prove, had it been necessary, that he had been convicted of horse-stealing in 1811, and had been sentenced to death—a sentence which was commuted; that he had married one of the servants of Sir John Smyth, and had deserted her, and that he had fled from Bath to escape the punishment of the vilest offences perpetrated during his residence in the City of Springs. But it was needless to produce more damning testimony than was brought forward. For twenty years the world has heard nothing more of the sham Sir Richard Hugh Smyth.



LAVINIA JANNETTA HORTON RYVES—THE PRETENDED PRINCESS OF CUMBERLAND.

In 1866, Mrs. Lavinia Jannetta Horton Ryves, and her son, William Henry Ryves, appeared before the English courts in support of one of the most extraordinary petitions on record. Taking advantage of the Legitimacy Declaration Act, they alleged that Mrs. Ryves was the legitimate daughter of John Thomas Serres and Olive his wife, and that the mother of Mrs. Ryves was the legitimate daughter of Henry Frederick Duke of Cumberland and Olive Wilmot, his wife, who were married by Dr. Wilmot, at the Grosvenor Square mansion of Lord Archer, on the 4th of March, 1767. They also asserted that Mrs. Ryves had been lawfully married to her husband, and that her son was legitimate; and asked the judges to pronounce that the original marriage between the Duke of Cumberland and Olive Wilmot was legal; that their child Olive, who afterwards became Mrs. Serres, was legitimate; that their grandchild Mrs. Ryves had been lawfully married to her husband; and that consequently the younger petitioner was their legitimate son and heir. The Attorney-General (Sir Roundell Palmer) filed an answer denying the legality of the Cumberland marriage, or that Mrs. Serres was the legitimate daughter of the duke. There was no dispute as to the fact that the younger petitioner, W.H. Ryves, was the legitimate son of his father and mother. The case was heard before Lord Chief-Justice Cockburn, Lord Chief-Baron Pollock, Sir James Wilde, and a special jury.

The opening speech of the counsel for the claimant revealed a story which was very marvellous, but which, without the strongest corroborative testimony, was scarcely likely to be admitted to be true. According to his showing Olive Wilmot was the daughter of Dr. James Wilmot, a country clergyman, and fellow of a college at Oxford. During his college curriculum this divine had made the acquaintance of Count Poniatowski, who afterwards became King of Poland, and had been introduced by him to his sister. The enamoured and beautiful Polish princess fell in love with Wilmot and married him, and the result of their union was a daughter, who grew up to rival her mother's beauty. The fact of the marriage and the existence of the daughter were, however, carefully kept from the outer world, and especially from Oxford, where Dr. Wilmot retained his fellowship. The girl grew to the age of sweet seventeen, and, in 1767, met the Duke of Cumberland, the younger brother of George III., at the house of Lord Archer, in Grosvenor Square. After a short courtship, the duke was said to have married her—the marriage having been celebrated by her father on the 4th of March, 1767, at nine o'clock in the evening. Two formal certificates of the marriage were drawn up and signed by Dr. Wilmot and by Lord Brooke (afterwards Lord Warwick) and J. Addey, who were present at it; and these certificates were verified by the signatures of Lord Chatham and Mr. Dunning (afterwards Lord Ashburton). These documents were put in evidence. The Duke of Cumberland and Olive Wilmot lived together for four years; and, in October, 1771, while she was pregnant, her royal mate deserted her, and, as was alleged, contracted a bigamous marriage with Lady Anne Horton, sister of the well-known Colonel Luttrel. George III., having been aware of the previous union with Olive Wilmot, was very indignant at this second connection, and would not allow the Duke of Cumberland and his second wife to come to Court. Indeed, it was mainly in consequence of this marriage, and the secret marriage of the Duke of Gloucester, that the Royal Marriage Act was forced through Parliament.

Olive Wilmot, as the petitioner's counsel asserted, having been deserted by her husband, gave birth to a Child Olive, who ought to have borne the title of Princess of Cumberland. The baby was baptised on the day of its birth by Dr. Wilmot, and three certificates to that effect were produced, signed by Dr. Wilmot and his brother Robert. But, although the king was irritated at the conduct of his brother, he was at the same time anxious to shield him from the consequences of his double marriage, and for that purpose gave directions to Lord Chatham, Lord Warwick, and Dr. Wilmot that the real parentage of the child should be concealed, and that it should be re-baptised as the daughter of Robert Wilmot, whose wife had just been confined. The plastic divine consented to rob the infant temporarily of its birthright but at the same time required that all the proceedings should be certified by the king and other persons as witnesses, in order that at a future time she should be replaced in her proper position. Perhaps, in ordinary circumstances, it would not have been possible for a country priest thus to coerce George III.; but Dr. Wilmot was in possession of a fatal secret. As is well known, King George was publicly married to Princess Charlotte in 1762; but, according to the showing of the petitioners, he had been previously married, in 1759, by this very Dr. Wilmot, to a lady named Hannah Lightfoot. Thus he, as well as the Duke of Cumberland, had committed bigamy, and the grave question was raised as to whether George IV., and even her present Majesty, had any right to the throne. Proof of this extraordinary statement was forthcoming, for on the back of the certificates intended to prove the marriage of the Duke of Cumberland and Olive Wilmot, the following certificates were endorsed:—

"This is to solemnly certify that I married George, Prince of Wales, to Princess Hannah, his first consort, April 15, 1759; and that two princes and a princess were the issue of such marriage. J. WILMOT."

"London, April 2, 176—."

"This is to certify to all it may concern that I lawfully married George, Prince of Wales, to Hannah Lightfoot, April 17, 1759; and that two sons and a daughter are their issue by such marriage. J. WILMOT. CHATHAM. J. DUNNING."

The concealed Princess Olive was meanwhile brought up, until 1782, in the family of Robert Wilmot, to whom it was said that an allowance of L500 a year was paid for her support by Lord Chatham. On the 17th of May, 1773, his Majesty created her Duchess of Lancaster by this instrument,—

"GEORGE R.

"We hereby are pleased to create Olive of Cumberland Duchess of Lancaster, and to grant our royal authority for Olive, our said niece, to bear and use the title and arms of Lancaster, should she be in existence at the period of our royal demise.

"Given at our Palace of St. James's, May 17, 1773. CHATHAM. J. DUNNING."

A little before this time (in 1772) Dr. Wilmot had been presented to the living of Barton-on-the-Heath, in Warwickshire, and thither his grand-daughter Olive went with him, passing as his niece, and was educated by him. When she was seventeen or eighteen years old she was sent back to London, and there became acquainted with Mr. de Serres, an artist and a member of the Royal Academy, whom she married in 1791. The union was not a happy one, and a separation took place; but, before it occurred, Mrs. Ryves, the elder petitioner, was born at Liverpool in 1797. After the separation Mrs. Serres and her daughter lived together, and the former gained some celebrity both as an author and an artist. They moved in good society, were visited by various persons of distinction, and in 1805 were taken to Brighton and introduced to the Prince of Wales, who afterwards became George IV. Two years later (in 1807) Dr. Wilmot died at the mature age of eighty-five, and the papers in his possession relating to the marriage, as well as those which had been deposited with Lord Chatham, who died in 1778, passed into the hands of Lord Warwick. Mrs. Serres during all this time had no knowledge of the secret of her birth, until, in 1815, Lord Warwick, being seriously ill, thought it right to communicate her history to herself and to the Duke of Kent, and to place the papers in her hands.

Having brought his case thus far, the counsel for the petitioners was about to read some documents, purporting to be signed by the Duke of Kent, as declarations of the legitimacy of Mrs. Ryves, but it was pointed out by the court that he was not entitled to do so, as, according to his own contention, the Duke of Kent was not a legitimate member of the royal family. Therefore, resigning this part of his case, he went on to say that Mrs. Serres, up to the time of her death in 1834, and the petitioners subsequently, had made every effort to have the documents on which they founded their claim examined by some competent tribunal. They now relied upon the documents, upon oral evidence, and upon the extraordinary likeness of Olive Wilmot to the royal family, to prove their allegations.

As far as the portraits of Mrs. Serres were concerned, the court intimated that they could not possibly be evidence of legitimacy, and refused to allow them to be shown to the jury. The documents were declared admissible, and an expert was called to pronounce upon their authenticity. He expressed a very decided belief that they were genuine, but, when cross-examined, stammered and ended by throwing doubts on the signatures of "J. Dunning" and "Chatham," who frequently appeared as attesting witnesses. The documents themselves were exceedingly numerous, and contained forty-three so-called signatures of Dr. Wilmot, sixteen of Lord Chatham, twelve of Mr. Dunning, twelve of George III., thirty-two of Lord Warwick, and eighteen of the Duke of Kent.

The following are some of the most remarkable papers:—

"I solemnly certify that I privately was married to the princess of Poland, the sister of the King of Poland. But an unhappy family difference induced us to keep our union secret. One dear child bless'd myself, who married the Duke of Cumberland, March 4th, 1767, and died in the prime of life of a broken heart, December 5th, 1774, in France. J. WILMOT." "January 1, 1780."

There were two other certificates to the same effect, and the fourth was in the following terms:—

"I solemnly certify that I married the Princess of Poland, and had legitimate issue Olive, my dear daughter, married March 4th, 1767, to Henry F., Duke of Cumberland, brother of His Majesty George the Third, who have issue Olive, my supposed niece, born at Warwick, April 3d, 1772. G.R. J. WILMOT. ROBT. WILMOT. CHATHAM."

"May 23, 1775.

"As a testimony that my daughter was not at all unworthy of Her Royal Consort the Duke of Cumberland, Lord Warwick solemnly declares that he returned privately from the continent to offer her marriage; but seeing how greatly she was attached to the Duke of Cumberland, he witnessed her union with His Royal Highness, March 4th, 1767. Witness, J. WILMOT. WARWICK ROBT. WILMOT."

"We solemnly certify in this prayer-book that Olive, the lawful daughter of Henry Frederick Duke of Cumberland and Olive his wife, bears a large mole on the right side, and another crimson mark upon the back, near the neck; and that such child was baptised as Olive Wilmot, at St. Nicholas Church, Warwick, by command of the King (George the Third) to save her royal father from the penalty of bigamy, &c. J. WILMOT. WARWICK. ROBT. WILMOT."