In the beginning of the year 1748, a small French merchantman, which
was bound from Rochelle to Martinique, was so closely chased by the
British cruisers that the captain and crew were compelled to take to
their boat. By so doing they avoided the fate of the ship and cargo,
which fell a prey to the pursuers, and succeeded in effecting a safe
landing at Martinique. In their company was a solitary passenger--a
youth of eighteen or nineteen summers, whose dignified deportment and
finely-cut features betokened him of aristocratic lineage. His name,
as given by himself, was the Count de Tarnaud, and his father,
according to his own showing, was a field-marshal in the French
service; but the deference with which he was treated by his shipmates
seemed to suggest that his descent was even more illustrious, and his
dignity loftier than that to which he laid claim. He was unattended,
save by a sailor lad to whom he had become attached after his
embarkation. This youth, called Rhodez, treated him with the utmost
deference, and, while on an intermediate footing between friendship
and servitude, was careful never to display the slightest familiarity.
This strangely assorted couple had no sooner landed upon the island
than the _pseudo_ De Tarnaud asked to be directed to the house of one
of the leading inhabitants, and was referred to Duval Ferrol, an
officer, whose residence was situated near the spot at which he had
come on shore. This gentleman, attracted by the appearance of the
youth, and sympathising with his misfortunes, at once offered him a
home, and De Tarnaud and Rhodez took up their abode at the _maison_
Ferrol. The hospitable advances of its proprietor were received by his
new guest in a kindly spirit, yet more as due than gratuitous; and
this air of superiority, combined with the extreme deference of
Rhodez, aroused curiosity. The captain of the vessel which had brought
the distinguished guest was questioned as to his real name, but
professed himself unable to give any information beyond stating that
the youth had been brought to him at Rochelle by a merchant, who had
privately recommended him to treat him with great attention, as he was
a person of distinction.
Ample scope was, therefore, left for the curiosity and credulity of
the inhabitants of Martinique, who at this time were closely blockaded
by the English, and were sadly in want of some excitement to relieve
the monotony of their lives. Every rumour respecting the stranger was
eagerly caught up and assiduously disseminated by a thousand gossips,
and, as statement after statement and _canard_ after _canard_ got
abroad, he rose higher and higher in popular repute. No one doubted
that he was at least a prince; and why he had elected to come to
Martinique at such an inconvenient season nobody stopped to inquire.
As far as could be made out from the disjointed stories which were
afloat, this mysterious individual had been seen to arrive at Rochelle
some time before the date of his embarkation. He was then accompanied
by an old man, who acted as a sort of mentor. On their arrival they
established themselves in private lodgings, in which the youth
remained secluded, while his aged friend frequented the quays on the
look-out for a ship to convey his companion to his destination. When
one was at last found he embarked, leaving his furniture as a present
to his landlady, and generally giving himself the air of a man of vast
property, although at the time possessed of very slender resources;
and that he really was a person of distinction and wealth the
colonists were prepared to believe. They only awaited the time when
he chose to reveal himself to receive him with acclamations.
After treating him hospitably for some time, Duval Ferrol precipitated
matters by informing his strange guest, that as he did not know
anything of his past life, and was himself only a subaltern, he had
been under the necessity of informing his superior officers of his
presence, and that the king's lieutenant who commanded at Port Maria
desired to see him. The young man immediately complied with this
request, and presented himself to the governor as the Count de
Tarnaud. M. Nadau (for such was the name of this official) had of
course heard the floating rumours, and was resolved to penetrate the
mystery. He therefore received his visitor with _empressement_, and
offered him his hospitality. The offer was accepted, but again rather
as a matter of right than of generosity, and the young count and
Rhodez became inmates of the house of the commandant.
Two days after young Tarnaud's removal to the dwelling of Nadau, the
latter was entertaining some guests, when, just as they were sitting
down to dinner, the count discovered that he had forgotten his
handkerchief, on which Rhodez got up and fetched it. Such an
occurrence would have passed without comment in France; but in
Martinique, where slavery was predominant, and slaves were abundant,
such an act of deference from one white man to another was noted, and
served to strengthen the opinions which had already been formed
respecting the stranger. During the course of the meal also, Nadau
received a letter from his subordinate, Duval Ferrol, to the following
effect:--"You wish for information relative to the French passenger
who lodged with me some days; his signature will furnish more than I
am able to give. I enclose a letter I have just received from him."
This enclosure was merely a courteous and badly-composed expression of
thanks; but it was signed _Est_, and not De Tarnaud. As soon as he
could find a decent excuse, the excited commandant drew aside one of
his more intimate friends, and communicated to him the surprising
discovery which he had made, at the same time urging him to convey
the information to the Marquis d'Eragny, who lived at no great
distance. The marquis had not risen from table when the messenger
arrived, and disclosed to those who were seated with him the news
which he had just received. A reference to an official calendar or
directory showed that _Est_ was a princely name, and the company at
once jumped to the conclusion that the mysterious stranger was no
other than Hercules Renaud d'Est, hereditary Prince of Modena, and
brother of the Duchess de Penthièvre. The truth of this supposition
was apparently capable of easy proof, for one of the company, named
Bois-Fermé, the brother-in-law of the commandant, asserted that he was
personally well acquainted with the prince, and could recognise him
anywhere. Accordingly, after a few bottles of wine had been drunk, the
whole company proceeded uproariously to Radau's, where Bois-Fermé (who
was a notorious liar and braggart) effusively proclaimed the stranger
to be the hereditary Prince of Modena. The disclosure thus
boisterously made seemed to offend, rather than give pleasure to, the
self-styled Count de Tarnaud, who, while not repudiating the title
applied to him, expressed his dissatisfaction at the indiscretion
which had revealed him to the public.
At this time the inhabitants of Martinique were in a very discontented
and unhappy position. Their coast was closely blockaded by the English
fleet, provisions were extremely scarce, and the necessities of the
populace were utilised by unscrupulous officials who amassed riches by
victimising those who had been placed under their authority. The
Marquis de Caylus, governor of the Windward Islands, was one of the
most rapacious of these harpies; and although, perhaps, he was more a
tool in the hands of others than an independent actor, the feeling of
the people was strong against him, and it was hoped that the
newly-arrived prince would supersede him, and redress the grievances
which his maladministration had created. Accordingly Nadau, who
entertained a private spite against De Caylus, lost no time in
representing the infamy of the marquis, and was comforted by the
assurance of his youthful guest, that he would visit those who had
abused the confidence of the king with the severest punishment, and
not only so, but would place himself at the head of the islands to
resist any attempt at invasion by the English.
These loyal and generous intentions, which Nadau did not fail to make
public, increased the general enthusiasm, and rumours of the plot
which was hatching reached Fort St. Pierre, where the Marquis de Caylus
had his head-quarters. He at once sent a mandate to Nadau, ordering the
stranger before him. A message of similar purport was also sent to the
youth himself, addressed to the Count de Tarnaud. Upon receiving it he
turned to the officers who had brought it, saying--"Tell your master
that to the rest of the world I am the Count de Tarnaud, but that to
him I am Hercules Renaud d'Est. If he wishes to see me let him come
half-way. Let him repair to Fort Royal in four or five days. I will be
there."
This bold reply seems to have completely disconcerted De Caylus. He
had already heard of the stranger's striking resemblance to the
Duchess de Penthièvre, and the assumption of this haughty tone to an
officer of his own rank staggered him. He set out for Fort Royal, but
changed his mind on the way, and returned to St. Pierre. The prince, on
the other hand, kept his appointment, and not finding the marquis,
proceeded to Fort St. Pierre, which he entered in triumph, attended by
seventeen or eighteen gentlemen. The governor caught a glimpse of him
as he passed through the streets, and exclaimed "that he was the very
image of his mother and sister," and in a panic quitted the town.
Nothing could have been more fortunate than his flight. The prince
assumed all the airs of royalty, and proceeded to establish a petty
court, appointing state officers to wait upon him. The Marquis
d'Eragny he created his grand equerry; Duval Ferrol and Laurent
'Dufont were his gentlemen-in-waiting; and the faithful Rhodez was
constituted his page. Regular audiences were granted to those who came
to pay their respects to him, or to present memorials or petitions,
and for a time Martinique rejoiced in the new glory which this
illustrious presence shed upon it.
It so happened that the Duc de Penthièvre was the owner of
considerable estates in the colony, which were under the care of a
steward named Lievain. This man, who seems to have been a simple soul,
no sooner heard of the arrival of his master's brother-in-law in the
island than he hastened to offer him not only his respects, but, what
was far better, the use of the cash which he held in trust for the
duke. He was, of course, received with peculiar graciousness, and
immediate advantage was taken of his timely offer. The prince was now
supplied with means adequately to support the royal state which he had
assumed, and the last lingering relics of suspicion were dissipated,
for Lievain was known to be a thoroughly honest and conscientious man,
and one well acquainted with his master's family and affairs, and it
was surmised that he would not thus have committed himself unless he
had had very good grounds for so doing.
On his arrival at St. Pierre the prince had taken up his quarters in
the convent of the Jesuits; and now the Dominican friars, jealous of
the honour conferred upon their rivals, besought a share of his royal
favour, and asked him to become their guest. Nothing loth to gratify
their amiable ambition, the prince changed his residence to their
convent, in which he was entertained most sumptuously. Every day a
table of thirty covers was laid for those whom he chose to invite; he
dined in public--a fanfaronade of trumpets proclaiming his
down-sitting and his up-rising--and the people thronged the
banqueting-hall in such numbers that barriers had to be erected in the
middle of it to keep the obtrusive multitude at a respectful distance.
Meanwhile vessels had left Martinique for France bearing the news of
these strange proceedings to the mother country. The prince had
written to his family, and had entrusted his letters to the captain of
a merchantman who was recommended by Lievain. And the discomfited
governor, the Marquis de Caylus, had forwarded a full account of the
extraordinary affair to his government, and had demanded
instructions. Six months passed away and no replies came. The prince
pretended to be seriously discomposed by this prolonged silence, but
amused himself in the meantime by defying M. de Caylus, by indulging
in the wildest excesses, and by gratifying every absurd or licentious
caprice which entered his head. But at last it became apparent that
letters from France might arrive at any moment; the rainy season was
approaching; the prince was apprehensive for his health; and the
inhabitants had discovered by this time that their visitor was very
costly. Accordingly, when he expressed his intention of returning to
France, nobody opposed or gainsaid it; and, after a pleasant sojourn
of seven months among the planters of Martinique, he embarked on board
the "Raphael," bound for Bordeaux. His household accompanied him, and
under a salute from the guns of the fort he sailed away.
A fortnight later the messenger whom the governor had despatched to
France returned bearing orders to put his so-called highness in
confinement. An answer was also sent to a letter which Lievain had
forwarded to the Duc de Penthièvre, and in it the simple-minded agent
was severely censured for having so easily become the dupe of an
impostor. At the same time he was informed that since his indiscretion
was in part the result of his zeal to serve his master, and since he
had only shared in a general folly, the duc was not disposed to deal
harshly with him, but would retain his services and share the loss
with him. This leniency, and the delay which had taken place, only
served to confirm the inhabitants of Martinique in their previous
belief, and they were more than ever convinced that the real Prince of
Modena had been their guest, although neither his relatives nor the
government were willing to admit that he had been guilty of such an
escapade.
The "Raphael" in due course arrived at Faro, where her illustrious
passenger was received with a salute by the Portuguese authorities. On
landing, the prince demanded a courier to send to Madrid, to the
chargé d'affaires of the Duke of Modena, and also asked the means of
conveying himself and his retinue to Seville, where he had resolved to
await the return of his messenger. These facilities were obligingly
afforded to him, and he arrived at Seville in safety. His fame had
preceded him, and he was received with the most extravagant
demonstrations of joy by the inhabitants. The susceptible donnas of
the celebrated Spanish city adored this youthful scion of a royal
house; sumptuous entertainments were prepared in his honour, and his
praises were in every mouth. His courier came not, but instead there
arrived an order for his arrest, which was communicated to him by the
governor in person. He seemed much astonished, but resignedly
answered, "I was born a sovereign as well as he: he has no control
over me; but he is master here, and I shall yield to his commands."
His ready acquiescence in his inevitable fate was well thought of; and
while it excited popular sympathy in his favour, rendered even those
who were responsible for his safe-keeping anxious to serve him.
Immediately on his apprehension he was conveyed to a small tower,
which was occupied by a lieutenant and a few invalids, and very little
restraint was placed upon his movements. His retinue were allowed to
visit him, and every possible concession was made to his assumed rank.
But he was far from content, and succeeded by a scheme in reaching the
sanctuary of the Dominican convent. From this haven of refuge he could
not legally be removed by force; but on the urgent representations of
the authorities the Archbishop of Seville sanctioned his transfer, if
it could be accomplished without bloodshed. A guard was despatched to
remove him. No sooner, however, had the officer charged with the duty
entered his apartment than the prince seized his sword, and protested
that he would kill the first man that laid a finger upon him. The
guard surrounded him with their bayonets, but he defended himself so
valiantly that it became evident that he could not be captured without
infringing the conditions laid down by the archbishop, and the
soldiers were compelled to withdraw. Meanwhile news of what had been
going on reached the populace, a crowd gathered, and popular feeling
ran so high that the discomfited emissaries of the law reached their
quarters with difficulty. This disturbance made the government more
determined than ever to bring the affair to an issue. Negotiations
were renewed with the Dominicans, who were now anxious to deliver up
their guest, but his suspicions were aroused, and his capture had
become no easy matter. He always went armed, slept at night with a
brace of pistols under his pillow, and even at meal times placed one
on either side of his plate. At last craft prevailed--a young monk,
who had been detailed to wait upon him at dinner, succeeded in
betraying him into an immoderate fit of laughter, and before he could
recover himself, pinioned him and handed him over to the alguazils,
who were in waiting in the next apartment. He was hurried to gaol,
loaded with chains, and cast into a dungeon. After twenty-four hours'
incarceration he was summoned for examination, but steadily refused to
answer the questions of his judges. He was not, however, remitted to
his former loathsome place of confinement, as might have been expected
from his obstinacy, but was conveyed to the best apartment in the
prison. His retinue were meanwhile examined relative to his supposed
design of withdrawing Martinique from its allegiance to France. The
result of these inquiries remained secret, but, without further trial,
the prince was condemned to the galleys, or to labour in the king's
fortifications in Africa, and his attendants were banished from the
Spanish dominions.
In due time he was despatched to Cadiz to join the convict gangs
sentenced to enforced labour at Ceuta. The whole garrison of Seville
was kept under arms on the morning of his departure, to suppress any
popular commotion, and resist any possible attempt at rescue. On his
arrival at Cadiz he was conducted to Fort la Caragna, and handed over
to the commandant, a sturdy Frenchman named Devau, who was told that
he must treat the prisoner politely, but would be held answerable for
his safe-keeping. Devau read these orders, and replied, "When I am
made responsible for the safe custody of anybody, I know but one way
of treating him, and that is to put him in irons." So the _pseudo_
prince was ironed, until the convoy was ready to escort the prisoners
to Ceuta. On the voyage the pretender was treated differently from the
other galley-slaves, and on reaching his destination was placed under
little restraint. He had full liberty to write to his friends, and
availed himself of this permission to send a letter to Nadau, who had
been ordered home to France to give an account of his conduct. In this
document he mentioned the courtesy with which he was treated, and
begged the Port Maria governor to accept a handsome pair of pistols
which he sent as a souvenir. To Lievin, the Duc de Penthièvre's agent,
he also wrote, lamenting the losses which he had sustained, and
promising to make them good at a future time. His prison, however, had
not sufficient charms to retain his presence. He took the first
opportunity of escaping, and having smuggled himself on board an
English ship, arrived in the Bay of Gibraltar. The captain informed
the governor of the fort that he had on board his ship the person who
claimed to be the Prince of Modena, and that he demanded permission to
land. A threat of immediate apprehension was sufficient to deter the
refugee from again tempting the Spanish authorities: he remained on
board; and the ship sailed on her voyage, carrying with her the
prince, who was seen no more.