Germany, and gave birth to a long succession of pamphlets. A wild
woman, Countess Albersdorf ('_née_ Lady Graham,' says Miss Evans, who
later calls her 'Lady Caroline Albersdorf'), saw visions, dreamed
dreams, and published nonsense. Other pamphlets came out, directed
against the House of Baden. In 1870 an anonymous French pamphleteer
offered the Baden romance, as from the papers of a Major von
Hennenhofer, the villain in chief of the White Lady plot. Lord
Stanhope was named as the ringleader in the attacks on Kaspar, both at
Nuremberg and Anspach. In 1883 all the fables were revived in a
pamphlet produced at Ratisbon, a mere hash of the libels of 1834,
1839, 1840, and 1870. Dr. Meyer was especially attacked, his sons
defended his reputation by an action for libel on the dead, an action
which German law permits. There was no defence, and the publisher was
fined, and ordered to destroy all the copies. In 1892 the libels were
repeated, by 'Baron Alexander von Artin:' two documents of a palpably
fraudulent character were added, the rest was the old stuff. The
reader may find it in Miss Evans's _Kaspar Hauser_ (1892). For
example, Daumer knew a great deal. He even, in 1833, received an
anonymous letter from Anspach, containing the following statement:
'Lord Daniel Alban Durteal, advocate of the Royal Court in London,
said to me, "I am firmly convinced that Kaspar Hauser was murdered. It
was all done by bribery. Stanhope has no money, and lives by this
affair."' Daumer and Miss Evans appear to have seen nothing odd in
relying on an anonymous letter about Lord Daniel Alban Durteal!
Lord Stanhope, says Miss Evans, 'was known to have subsisted
principally upon the sale of his German hymnbook, and other
devotional works, for which he was a colporteur.' Weary of piety, Lord
Stanhope became a hired assassin. Perhaps this nonsense still has its
believers, seduced by 'Lady Caroline Albersdorf, _née_ Lady Graham,'
by Lord Daniel Alban Durteal, and by the spirit of Kaspar himself,
who, summoned by Daniel Dunglas Home, at a _séance_ with the Empress
Eugénie, apparently, announced himself as Prince of Baden. No
authority for this interesting ghost of one who disbelieved in ghosts
is given.
It is quite possible that Kaspar Hauser no more knew who he was than
the valet of 1669-1703 knew why he was a prisoner, no more than Mr.
Browne, when a dealer in 'notions,' knew that he was Mr. Bourne, a
dissenting preacher. Nothing is certain, except that Kaspar was an
hysterical humbug, whom people of sense suspected from the first, and
whom believers in animal magnetism and homoeopathy accepted as some
great one, educated by his Royal enemies in total darkness--to fit him
for the military profession.
It is difficult, of course, to account for the impossibility of
finding whence Kaspar had come to Nuremberg. But, in 1887, it proved
just as impossible to discover whither the Rev. Ansel Bourne had gone.
Mr. Bourne's lot was cast, not in the sleepy Royalist Bavaria of 1828,
but in the midst of the admired 'hustle' of the great Western
Republic. He was one of the most remarkable men in the country, not a
yokel of sixteen. He was last seen at his nephew's store, 121 Broad
Street, Providence, R.I., on January 17. On January 20, the hue and
cry arose in the able and energetic press of his State. Mr. Bourne, as
a travelling evangelist, was widely known, but, after a fortnight
unaccounted for, he arrived, as A.J. Browne, at Norristown, Pa., sold
notions there, and held forth with acceptance at religious meetings.
On March 14 he awoke, still undiscovered, and wondered where he was.
He remembered nothing since January 17, so he wired to Providence,
R.I., for information. He had a whole fortnight to account for,
between his departure from Providence, R.I., and his arrival at
Norristown, Pa. Nobody could help him, he had apparently walked
invisible, like Kaspar on his way to Nuremberg. He was hypnotised by
Professor William James, and brought into his Browne condition, but
could give practically no verifiable account of Browne's behaviour in
that missing fortnight. He said that he went from Providence to
Pawtucket, and was for some days at Philadelphia, Pa., where he really
seems to have been; as to the rest 'back of that it was mixed up.' We
do not hear that Kaspar was ever hypnotised and questioned, but
probably he also would have been 'mixed up,' like Mr. Bourne.
The fable about a Prince of Baden had not a single shred of evidence
in its favour. It is true that the Grand Duchess was too ill to be
permitted to see her dead baby, in 1812, but the baby's father,
grandmother, and aunt, with the ten Court physicians, the nurses and
others, must have seen it, in death, and it is too absurd to suppose,
on no authority, that they were all parties to the White Lady's plot.
We might as well believe, as Miss Evans seems to do, on the authority
of an unnamed Paris newspaper, that a Latin letter, complaining of
imprisonment, was picked up in the Rhine, signed 'S. Haues Spraucio,'
that the words ought to be read 'Hares Sprauka,' and that they are an
anagram of Kaspar Hauser. This occurred in 1816, when Kaspar, being
about four years of age, could not write Latin. No one in the secret
could have hoped that the Royal infant and captive would be recognised
under the name of Spraucio or even of Sprauka. Abject credulity, love
of mystery, love of scandal, and political passions, produced the
ludicrous mass of fables to which, as late as 1893, the Duchess of
Cleveland thought it advisable to reply. In England it is quite safe
to accuse a dead man of murder, or of what you please, as far as the
Duchess understood the law of libel, so she had no legal remedy.
VII
_THE GOWRIE CONSPIRACY_
The singular events called 'The Gowrie Conspiracy,' or 'The Slaying of
the Ruthvens,' fell out, on evidence which nobody disputes, in the
following manner. On August 5, 1600, the King, James VI., was leaving
the stables at the House of Falkland to hunt a buck, when the Master
of Ruthven rode up and had an interview with the monarch. This
occurred about seven o'clock in the morning. The Master was a youth of
nineteen; he was residing with his brother, the Earl of Gowrie, aged
twenty-two, at the family town house in Perth, some twelve or fourteen
miles from Falkland. The interview being ended, the King followed the
hounds, and the chase, 'long and sore,' ended in a kill, at about
eleven o'clock, near Falkland. Thence the King and the Master, with
some fifteen of the Royal retinue, including the Duke of Lennox and
the Earl of Mar, rode, without any delay, to Perth. Others of the
King's company followed: the whole number may have been, at most,
twenty-five.
On their arrival at Perth it appeared that they had not been
expected. The Earl had dined at noon, the Royal dinner was delayed
till two o'clock, and after the scanty meal the King and the Master
went upstairs alone, while the Earl of Gowrie took Lennox and others
into his garden, bordering on the Tay, at the back of the house. While
they loitered there eating cherries, a retainer of Gowrie, Thomas
Cranstoun (brother of Sir John of that ilk), brought a report that the
King had already mounted, and ridden off through the Inch of Perth.
Gowrie called for horses, but Cranstoun told him that his horses were
at Scone, across the Tay, two miles off. The gentlemen then went to
the street door of the house, where the porter said that the King had
_not_ ridden away. Gowrie gave him the lie, re-entered the house, went
upstairs, and returning, assured Lennox that James had certainly
departed. All this is proved on oath by Lennox, Mar, Lindores, and
many other witnesses.
While the company stood in doubt, outside the gate, a turret window
above them opened, and the King looked forth, much agitated, shouting
'Treason!' and crying for help to Mar. With Lennox and most of the
others, Mar ran to the rescue up the main staircase of the house,
where they were stopped by a locked door, which they could not break
open. Gowrie had not gone with his guests to aid the King; he was
standing in the street, asking, 'What is the matter? I know nothing;'
when two of the King's household, Thomas and James Erskine, tried to
seize him, the 'treason' being perpetrated under Gowrie's own roof.
_His_ friends drove the Erskines off, and some of the Murrays of
Tullibardine, who were attending a wedding in Perth, surrounded him.
Gowrie retreated, drew a pair of 'twin swords,' and, accompanied by
Cranstoun and others, made his way into the quadrangle of his house.
At the foot of a small dark staircase they saw the body of a man
lying--wounded or dead. Cranstoun now rushed up the dark stairs,
followed by Gowrie, two Ruthvens, Hew Moncrieff, Patrick Eviot, and
perhaps others. At the head of the narrow spiral stair they found, in
a room called the Gallery Chamber, Sir Thomas Erskine, a lame Dr.
Herries, a young gentleman of the Royal Household named John Ramsay,
and Wilson, a servant, with drawn swords. A fight began; Cranstoun was
wounded; he and his friends fled, leaving Gowrie, who had been run
through the body by Ramsay. All this while the other door of the long
Gallery Chamber was ringing under the hammer-strokes of Lennox and his
company, and the town bell was summoning the citizens. Erskine and
Ramsay now locked the door opening on the narrow stair, at which the
retainers of Gowrie struck with axes. The King's party, by means of a
hammer handed by their friends through a hole in the other door of the
gallery, forced the lock, and admitted Lennox, Mar, and the rest of
the King's retinue. They let James out of a small turret opening from
the Gallery Chamber, and, after some dealings with the angry mob and
the magistrates of Perth, they conveyed the King to Falkland after
nightfall.
The whole results were the death of Gowrie and of his brother, the
Master (his body it was that lay at the foot of the narrow staircase),
and a few wounds to Ramsay, Dr. Herries, and some of Gowrie's
retainers.
The death of the Master of Ruthven was explained thus:--When James
cried 'Treason!' young Ramsay, from the stable door, had heard his
voice, but not his words. He had sped into the quadrangle, charged up
the narrow stairs, found a door behind which was the sound of a
struggle, 'dang in' the door, and saw the King wrestling with the
Master. _Behind them stood a man, the centre of the mystery, of whom
he took no notice._ He drew his whinger, slashed the Master in the
face and throat, and pushed him downstairs. Ramsay then called from
the window to Sir Thomas Erskine, who, with Herries and Wilson, ran to
his assistance, slew the wounded Master, and shut up James (who had no
weapon) in the turret. Then came the struggle in which Gowrie died. No
more was seen of the mysterious man in the turret, except by a
townsman, who later withdrew his evidence.
Such was the whole affair, as witnessed by the King's men, the
retainers of Gowrie, and some citizens of Perth. Not a vestige of plot
or plan by Gowrie and his party was discoverable. His friends
maintained that he had meant, on that day, to leave Perth for
'Lothian,' that is, for his castle at Dirleton, near North Berwick,
whither he had sent most of his men and provisions. James had summoned
the Master to meet him at Falkland, they said, and Gowrie had never
expected the return of the Master with the King.
James's own version was given in a public letter of the night of the
events, which we only know through the report of Nicholson, the
English resident at Holyrood (August 6), and Nicholson only repeated
what Elphinstone, the secretary, told him of the contents of the
letter, written to the King's dictation at Falkland by David Moysie, a
notary. At the end of August James printed and circulated a full
narrative, practically identical with Nicholson's report of
Elphinstone's report of the contents of the Falkland letter of August
5.
The King's narrative is universally accepted on all hands, till we
come to the point where he converses with Alexander Ruthven, at
Falkland, before the buck-hunt began. There was such an interview,
lasting for about a quarter of an hour, but James alone knew its
nature. He says that, after an unusually low obeisance, Ruthven told
the following tale:--Walking alone, on the previous evening, in the
fields near Perth, he had met 'a base-like fellow, unknown to him,
with a cloak cast about his mouth,' a common precaution to avoid
recognition. Asked who he was, and what his errand 'in so solitary a
part, being far from all ways,' the fellow was taken aback. Ruthven
seized him, and, under his arm, found 'a great wide pot, all full of
coined gold in great pieces.' Ruthven keeping the secret to himself,
took the man to Perth, and locked him in 'a privy derned house'--that
is, a room. At 4 A.M. he himself left Perth to tell the King, urging
him to 'take order' in the matter at once, as not even Lord Gowrie
knew of it. When James said that it was no business of his, the gold
not being treasure trove, Ruthven called him 'over scrupulous,' adding
that his brother, Gowrie, 'and other great men,' might interfere.
James then, suspecting that the gold might be foreign, brought in by
Jesuits for the use of Catholic intriguers, asked what the coins and
their bearer were like. Ruthven replied that the bearer seemed to be a
'Scots fellow,' hitherto unknown to him, and that the gold was
apparently of foreign mintage. Hereon James felt sure that the gold
was foreign and the bearer a disguised Scots priest. He therefore
proposed to send back with Ruthven a retainer of his own with a
warrant to Gowrie, then Provost of Perth, and the Bailies, to take
over the man and the money. Ruthven replied that, if they did, the
money would be ill reckoned, and begged the King to ride over at once,
be 'the first seer,' and reward him 'at his own honourable
discretion.'
The oddity of the tale and the strangeness of Ruthven's manner amazed
James, who replied that he would give an answer when the hunt was
over. Ruthven said the man might make a noise, and discover the whole
affair, causing the treasure to be meddled with. He himself would be
missed by Gowrie, whereas, if James came at once, Gowrie and the
townsfolk would be 'at the sermon.' James made no answer, but followed
the hounds. Still he brooded over the story, sent for Ruthven, and
said that the hunt once ended he would accompany him to Perth.
_Here James adds that, though he himself knew not that any man was
with Ruthven, he had two companions, one of whom, Andrew Henderson, he
now despatched to Gowrie, bidding him prepare dinner for the King._
This is not part of James's direct evidence. He was _unknowing and
unsuspecting that any man living had come_ with Ruthven.
Throughout the chase Ruthven was ever near the King, always urging him
'to hasten the end of the hunting.' The buck was slain close to the
stables, and Ruthven would not allow James to wait for a second horse:
that was sent after him. So the King did not even tarry to 'brittle'
the buck, and merely told the Duke of Lennox, Mar, and others that he
was riding to Perth to speak with Gowrie, and would return before
evening. Some of the Court went to Falkland for fresh horses, other
followed slowly with weary steeds. They followed 'undesired by him,'
because a report rose that the King had some purpose to apprehend the
oppressive Master of Oliphant. Ruthven implored James not to bring
Lennox and Mar, but only three or four servants, to which the King
answered 'half angrily.'
This odd conduct roused suspicion in James. He had been well
acquainted with Ruthven, who was suing for the place of a Gentleman of
the Bedchamber, or Cubicular. 'The farthest that the King's suspicion
could reach to was, that it might be that the Earl, his brother, had
handled him so hardly, that the young gentleman, being of a high
spirit, had taken such displeasure as he was beside himself;' hence
his curious, agitated, and moody behaviour. James, as they rode,
consulted Lennox, whose first wife had been a sister of Gowrie. Lennox
had never seen anything of mental unsettlement in young Ruthven, but
James bade the Duke 'accompany him into that house' (room), where the
gold and the bearer of it lay. Lennox thought the story of the gold
'unlikely.' Ruthven seeing them in talk, urged that James should be
secret, and bring nobody with him to the first inspection of the
treasure. The King thus rode forward 'between trust and distrust.'
About two miles from Perth, Ruthven sent on his other companion,
Andrew Ruthven, to Gowrie. When within a mile of Perth, Ruthven
himself rode forward in advance. Gowrie was at dinner, having taken no
notice of the two earlier messengers.
Gowrie, with fifty or sixty men, met James 'at the end of the Inch;'
the Royal retinue was then of fifteen persons, with swords alone, and
no daggers or 'whingers.' Dinner did not appear till an hour had gone
by (say 2 P.M.). James whispered to Ruthven that he had better see the
treasure at once: Ruthven bade him wait, and not arouse Gowrie's
suspicions by whispering ('rounding'). James therefore directed his
conversation to Gowrie, getting from him 'but half words and imperfect
sentences.' When dinner came Gowrie stood pensively by the King's
table, often whispering to the servants, 'and oft-times went in and
out,' as he also did before dinner. The suite stood about, as was
custom, till James had nearly dined, when Gowrie took them to their
dinner, separately in the hall; 'he sat not down with them as the
common manner is,' but again stood silent beside the King, who
bantered him 'in a homely manner.'
James having sat long enough, Ruthven whispered that he wished to be
rid of his brother, so James sent Gowrie into the hall to offer a kind
of grace-cup to the suite, as was usual--this by Ruthven's desire.
James then rose to follow Ruthven, asking him to bring Sir Thomas
Erskine with him. Ruthven requested James to 'command publicly' that
none should follow at once, promising that 'he should make any one or
two follow that he pleased to call for.'
The King then, expecting attendants who never came because Ruthven
never summoned them, walked alone with Ruthven across the end of the
hall, up a staircase, and through three or four chambers, Ruthven
'ever locking behind him every door as he passed.' We do not know
whether James observed the locking of the doors, or inferred it from
the later discovery that one door was locked. Then Ruthven showed 'a
more smiling countenance than he had all the day before, ever saying
that he had him sure and safe enough kept.' At last they reached 'a
little study' (a turret chamber), where James found, 'not a bondman,
but a freeman, with a dagger at his girdle,' and 'a very abased
countenance.' Ruthven locked the turret door, put his hat on his head,
drew the man's dagger, pointed it at the King's breast, 'avowing now
that the King behoved to be in his will and used as he list,'
threatening murder if James cried out, or opened the window. He also
reminded the King of the death of the late Gowrie, his father
(executed for treason in 1584). Meanwhile the other man stood
'trembling and quaking.' James made a long harangue on many points,
promising pardon and silence if Ruthven at once let him go. Ruthven
then uncovered, and promised that James's life should be safe if he
kept quiet; the rest Gowrie would explain. Then, bidding the other man
ward the King, he went out, locking the door behind him. He had first
made James swear not to open the window. In his brief absence James
learned from the armed man that he had but recently been locked up in
the turret, he knew not why. James bade him open the window 'on his
right hand.' The man did as he was commanded.
Here the King's narrative reverts to matter not within his own
observation (the events which occurred downstairs during his own
absence). His narrative is amply confirmed, on oath, by many nobles
and gentlemen. He says (here we repeat what we began by stating) that,
during his own absence, as his train was rising from dinner, one of
the Earl's servants, Cranstoun, came hastily in, assuring the Earl
that the King had got to horse, and 'was away through the Inch' (isle)
of Perth. The Earl reported this to the nobles, and all rushed to the
gate. The porter assured them that the King had not departed. Gowrie
gave the porter the lie, but, turning to Lennox and Mar, said that he
would get sure information. He then ran back across the court, and
upstairs, and returned, running, with the news that 'the King was
gone, long since, by the back gate, and, unless they hasted, would not
be overtaken.'
The nobles, going towards the stables for their horses, necessarily
passed under the window of the turret on the first floor where James
was imprisoned. Ruthven by this time had returned thither, 'casting
his hands abroad in a desperate manner as a man lost.' Then, saying
that there was no help for it, the King must die, he tried to bind the
royal hands with his garter. In the struggle James drew Ruthven
towards the window, already open. At this nick of time, when the
King's friends were standing in the street below, Gowrie with them,
James, 'holding out the right side of his head and his right elbow,'
shouted for help. Gowrie stood 'ever asking what it meant,' but
Lennox, Mar, and others, as we saw, instantly ran in, and up the chief
staircase to find the King. Meanwhile James, in his agony, pushed
Ruthven out of the turret, 'the said Mr. Alexander's head under his
arms, and himself on his knees,' towards the chamber door which opened
on the dark staircase. James was trying to get hold of Ruthven's sword
and draw it, 'the other fellow doing nothing but standing behind the
King's back and trembling all the time.' At this moment a young
gentleman of the Royal Household, John Ramsay, entered from the dark
_back_ staircase, and struck Ruthven with his dagger. 'The other
fellow' withdrew. James then pushed Ruthven down the back stairs,
where he was slain by Sir Thomas Erskine and Dr. Herries, who were
coming up by that way. The rest, with the death of Gowrie, followed. A
tumult of the townsmen, lasting for two or three hours, delayed the
return of James to Falkland.
Such is the King's published narrative. It tallies closely with the
letter written by Nicholson, the English agent, to Cecil, on August 6.
James had thus his version, from which he never varied, ready on the
evening of the fatal day, August 5. From his narrative only one
inference can be drawn. Gowrie and his brother had tried to lure
James, almost unattended, to their house. In the turret they had an
armed man, who would assist the Master to seize the King. Events
frustrated the conspiracy; James was well attended; the armed man
turned coward, and Gowrie proclaimed the King's departure falsely to
make his suite follow back to Falkland, and so leave the King in the
hands of his captors. The plot, once arranged, could not be abandoned,
because the plotters had no prisoner with a pot of gold to produce, so
their intended treason would have been manifest.