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
garçon!" 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.
* * * * *