Although the unfortunate dauphin's death had been officially certified
to by so many persons, the secret manner of his burial afforded full
scope for the propagators of strange rumours to exercise their talents.
The circulation amid provincial cliques of baseless reports of the
prince having made good his escape from the Temple, and of another
child having been substituted in his place, was not unlikely to meet
the ears of those able and willing to avail themselves of the popular
myth; it is not, therefore, so phenomenal that some impostors sought to
pass themselves off as the deceased dauphin; but the large number of
different individuals who made the attempt is, probably, unparalleled
in all history. Out of the thirty, according to the computation of M.
de Beauchesne, claimants to the name of this luckless scion of royalty,
it will be only requisite to furnish accounts of the most notorious.
The first of the pretenders, in order of time, was Jean Marie
Hervagault, the putative son of a poor Normandy tailor. He was born at
St. Lo on the 20th of September, 1781. His mother had been a pretty
woman, and scandal had connected her name somewhat closely with that of
the Duke de Valentinois. Young Hervagault had a delicate complexion,
fair hair curling naturally, an agreeable countenance, and dignified
manners that would not have discredited the child of royalty. When he
was twelve years of age he set off on his travels, and after having
duped several persons by pretending to be a son of different members of
the aristocracy, he determined to, or was persuaded to, take upon
himself the name of the little prince, "Louis the Seventeenth."
According to the story given by his adherents, or accomplices, the
dauphin had not died in the Temple as was commonly supposed, but had
been carried forth in a basket of soiled linen, and the scrofulous and
idiotic child of the tailor Hervagault left in his stead. The pseudo
Louis the Seventeenth had not made much progress in his first essay
before he was arrested as a vagabond, and sent to Cherbourg. There his
father reclaimed him, and he was allowed to go free under parental
care. Some few years later he recommenced his imposture, and being
again arrested was sentenced at Chalons-sur-Marne to a month's
detention. Not deterred by this, he began his old tricks again, and
being speedily captured was condemned to two years' imprisonment.
Finally, he was caught the next time at Vitry, practising his favourite
imposture and living at the expense of his dupes. On this occasion the
pretended prince was favoured with four years of detention. These
successive rebuffs did not deter Hervagault from pursuing his game upon
the next opportunity. When for the last time he presented himself
before the judge, his easy assurance and dignified mien greatly
impressed the court. The large and influential crowd of his dupes, who
were spectators of his trial, remained firm believers in his case, and
would not be dissuaded from their belief by the most positive proofs as
to the falsity of his tale. Men of exalted position and wealthy
persons accorded him their sympathetic aid, and considered themselves
well paid for whatever they might do if "the dauphin" condescended to
honour them with a bow, or if they were permitted to kiss his royal
hand. The imperial police, however, would not stand much nonsense, and
shut up the youthful claimant in the asylum of Bicetre, as an
incorrigible lunatic. Hervagault now and for henceforth disappeared
from public gaze, but the vacant dauphinship was speedily claimed by
Jersat, an old soldier; and upon his being disposed of, Fontolive, a
mason at Lyons, started as a claimant for the honours. He in his turn
vanished from the scene, and then Bruneau aspired to the title.