My Nancy leaves the rural plain
A camp’s distress to prove,
All other ills she can sustain
But living from her love,
to which I have added on a small plaque attached to the frame:—
Elle poussa le dévouement jusqu’à l’héroisme
et la courage jusqu’à la témérité,
a tribute paid to this brave Englishwoman by that admirable writer, M.
de la Sicotière, Sénateur de l’Orne.
Mrs. Atkyns, whilst residing on her estate in Norfolk, would seem to
have taken a warm interest in politics, her sympathies being, of course,
strongly anti-democratic. The following letter was found by my cousin,
Sir Spencer Walpole, amongst the papers of his grandfather, Mr.
Perceval, the distinguished statesman who met with such a tragic end:—
SIR—I flatter myself you will do me the honour to excuse my
intruding upon you at a time you must consequently be extremely
occupied. I most sincerely congratulate you on your becoming one
of His Majesty’s ministers. I, with a large majority of England,
felicitate myself as a true and faithful subject to my sovereign
on seeing a gentleman of your abilities and loyalty in the
situation you now fill. May Heaven prosper your efforts to serve
your King and country! I take the liberty to suggest an idea, or
rather, offer an opinion. I have heard that the present
Receiver-General for the county of Norfolk, Sir Roger Kerrison
of Norwich, is likely to lose that place; permit me, sir, to
hint to you that all the other bankers except Kett or Day are
downright revolutionists. From the knowledge I have of the
inhabitants of Norwich (my house being situated but five miles
from that city), I have taken the liberty to recommend either
the House of Kett or that of Day in case there should be a
change. Mr. Day is an alderman of the City of Norwich, a man
much respected. Kett was a Quaker, but was read out of the
meeting for having subscribed to the volunteers. In case of a
dissolution of Parliament either of these gentlemen will be
useful and active agents. Do not think, sir, that I recommend
them from my having any interest in their having such an
advantageous place, or from having any particular acquaintance
with either; on the contrary, I never spoke to Mr. Kett that I
know of, and not twice in my life to Mr. Day, but they are loyal
subjects to their King—that is enough for me—Day in
particular. Norwich is famous for the number of its democrats.
Excuse, sir, my troubling you, but it is for the public good;
that, I think, with you will be sufficient apology. The present
Receiver-General is not of what we call the Loyal Party. I shall
not mention to mortal my having written this. Should there be a
dissolution of Parliament, and that you think I can be of any
service in this county or the city, having some interest in
both, I request you will have the goodness to inform me.—I
have, sir, the honour to be, your most obedient, very humble
servant,
CHARLOTTE ATKYNS.
KETTERINGHAM HALL,
WINDHAM, NORFOLK,
_5th April 1807_.
If, sir, at any time you think I can by any means be of the
least use with regard to French affairs, having more knowledge
of that country than, perhaps, sir, you are aware of, you may
command me. There is a circumstance that most certainly may one
day or other prove a severe check to the allied Powers should
they attempt to enter France; it is a secret or artful menace
that Buonaparte reserves for a last manœuvre. When I come to
town, which will be in less than a fortnight, I will, sir, if
you please, explain my meaning. I need not request, sir, that
any communication I give, or my _now_ having taken the liberty
to address you, may remain a profound secret.
The secret menace to which Mrs. Atkyns here alludes would seem to
indicate that, in her opinion, Buonaparte was aware that Louis
XVII.—the child supposed to have died in the Temple—was still alive,
and was reserving this knowledge in order to make use of it should
necessity arise.
It was another relative of Sir Spencer’s, the Reverend Mr. Perceval, who
took such a great interest in the pretender Naundorff, an individual
claiming to be Louis XVII. Mr. Perceval it was who published a book
called _The Misfortunes of the Dauphin_, in which the adventures of the
Duc de Normandie, as Naundorff styled himself, are fully described. Much
of this narrative, however, is very involved and unsatisfactory, whilst
the account of the Dauphin’s escape from the prison of the Temple,
concealed in a coffin, carries but little conviction. The organiser of
this rescue is stated to have been Josephine Beauharnais, afterwards
Empress of the French.
It is not, in all probability, generally known that there were no less
than thirty-six pretended Dauphins, including an American one—Eleazar
Williams by name—about whose origin considerable mystery prevails. The
story told about him was that he had been brought as a child to America
by a French family in 1795, and placed in charge of an Iroquois
half-breed, Thomas Williams by name, being as a young man educated by a
Mr. Nathaniel Ely, a deacon of the Congregational Church—Eleazar
Williams himself afterwards entering the ministry. It was in 1851 that a
Mr. Hanson began the investigations which brought Eleazar Williams
before the world as the lost Dauphin.
The Duchesse d’Angoulême, sister of the child over whose fate such a
mystery prevails, is declared, when on her deathbed, to have sent for
General Larochejaquelein, a faithful adherent of the Bourbon cause.
“General,” she said, “I have a fact—a very important fact to reveal to
you—the testament of a dying woman. My brother is not dead. This is the
nightmare of my whole life. Promise me to use all possible means to find
him. Travel by land and sea to discover some of the old servants or
their descendants; for France can never be happy and tranquil until he
is seated on the throne of his fathers.”
Mr. Hanson was much struck with the words which the Duchess was supposed
to have uttered, and applied them to Eleazar Williams. In 1853 he
published an article embodying his researches and conclusions. It was
entitled, “Have we a Bourbon among us?” and appeared in a number of
_Putnam’s Magazine_. But Eleazar Williams himself, who appears to have
been a very quiet, dignified, and sincerely religious man, never made
any particular effort to establish his claims as Dauphin, or rather as
King of France, and passed most of his time in missionary work amongst
the Indians. He carried on a large correspondence, however, with those
interested in his history, and would sometimes discuss the question of
his supposed birth. It was a constant practice of his to declare that
there lingered in his memory vague recollections of a childhood passed
amidst the greatest magnificence. In the freedom of private conversation
he would also speak of a feeling of having passed through terrifying
scenes as well as of noble edifices, beautiful gardens, troops on
parade, and gorgeously furnished apartments—memories, indeed, such as
might have been inspired by the splendid Court of Versailles.
Eleazar Williams died in 1858, and a grandson of his is, I believe,
still living. The whole story of this American Dauphin—though, perhaps,
of no serious historical importance—is a curious one, and the book in
which it is set forth, _The Story of Louis XVII. of France_, merits some
attention, especially as it deals at length with the pretender to whom
allusion has already been made, the celebrated Naundorff, who is, in its
pages, ruthlessly denounced as an impostor and cheat. Naundorff’s
grandson, it may be of interest to know, is, or was, engaged in
commercial pursuits, and is styled Jean III. by the small band of
adherents who believe in his claims to the throne of France, whilst the
Dauphin, “Prince Henri Charles Louis,” born in 1899, is the offspring of
his marriage with the “Princesse Magdelaine,” daughter of a worthy
tradesman in the town of Lunel.
The whole story of the Dauphin seems destined to be wrapped in
impenetrable mystery, but, as has been said, it is now believed by those
most competent to judge, including M. Sardou (probably the greatest
living authority on the French Revolution) that the Dauphin did not, as
is generally supposed, die in the prison of the Temple. There is,
indeed, good reason to assume that having been got out by some means or
other (possibly in a package of dirty linen carried by the wife of
Simon, his gaoler), he was conveyed without the walls which encircled
his prison. Once liberated, however, his rescuers must have become
dispersed, very likely being themselves executed or imprisoned for some
reason other than their share in his escape, and the child, already
enfeebled by his captivity, alone in the seething whirlpool of
revolutionary Paris, entirely devoid of resources of any kind, would
under such circumstances have been in a very hopeless position. So in
all probability poor little Louis XVII., a forlorn and friendless
wanderer, died a miserable death in some obscure part of that vast city
over which his ancestors had held such absolute sway. As for the
numerous pretenders, some of them, there is no doubt, must have heard
the tale of the Dauphin’s rescue from persons who had a hand in it, thus
obtaining the material for the more or less plausible stories which made
a considerable impression upon certain people who certainly should have
known better. The Duchesse d’Angoulême, to the very end of her life, as
has been said, was always declared to entertain grave doubts as to her
brother having died in the Temple,—a fact which would account for her
refusal to accept the heart of the boy buried as the Dauphin by the
revolutionary authorities, a gruesome relic which was offered to her by
Dr. Pelletan. There exists a story that she left Memoirs with a definite
injunction that they were not to be published till one hundred years
after her death—1951—and should there be any foundation for such a
report it is therefore possible that those who live till that date may
see some definite light thrown upon not the least fascinating of
historical mysteries.