Hitherto the claimants to the dignities and name of the deceased
Dauphin were persons of low origin, and with little or no pretensions
to education. But the next pretender to be introduced was of
aristocratic appearance, talented, and furnished with a plausible story
to account for his past life. His first appearance before the public
as a claimant, so far as history is cognizant of his adventures, was on
the 12th of April, 1818, when a young man was arrested by the Austrian
police, near Mantua, for styling himself Louis Charles de Bourbon. He
declared himself to be French, and said that he was travelling for his
education, the truth or falsity of which assertions did not trouble the
police, but the surname of "De Bourbon" did, and they demanded an
explanation. The arrested traveller declined to respond to their
interrogations; but desired that a communication which he had addressed
_A Sa Majeste Imperiale seule_ should be forwarded to the Emperor.
From this communication, and other documents found in the prisoner's
possession, it was discovered that he claimed to be Louis Charles de
Bourbon, Duke of Normandy, and the legitimate heir to the crown of
France. This illustrious captive was sent to Milan, and, without
undergoing the formality of a trial, was promptly incarcerated. His
story, as fully detailed in the "_Memoires du Duc de Normandie, fils de
Louis XVI., ecrits et publie par lui-meme_," at Paris in 1831, and
subsequently republished with modifications and additions in 1850, is
of a most interesting character, and is evidently as veracious as most
of those issued by his contemporary rival claimants. According to the
Milan prisoner, whose memory, unlike that of most of the pretenders to
the dauphin's name, was clear as to the miseries he had endured during
captivity in the Temple, after the death of Marie Antoinette, the wife
of his jailer Simon consented to aid his escape, having been bought by
the gold of the Duke de Conde, who had sent two faithful emissaries,
the Count de Frotte, and Ojardias, a pretended physician, to Paris, in
hopes of rescuing the royal child. The name of Ojardias, it is as well
to remark, notwithstanding the important part he was called upon to
play in this drama, has entirely escaped the researches of all
historians contemporary or recent, and appears only in the pages of
this remarkable narrative. This pretended physician, having purchased
the co-operation of Madame Simon, and secured for himself, by
unrecounted means, the post of medical adviser to the dauphin,
counselled the invalid prince should be permitted a little exercise,
and recommended a wooden horse for that purpose.
The prison officials, who were in league with Ojardias, and ceded
everything to Madame Simon, consented to the proposed new treatment
being tried; the pretended physician therefore had a wooden horse
manufactured large enough to contain a child of the dauphin's size.
Simon, who was annoyed at having to resign his functions, and disgusted
at not being awarded any indemnity, was speedily talked over by his
wife to aid the escape of the prince, or at all events consented not to
offer any obstacle to his evasion. The date fixed for the attempted
escape was the 19th January, 1794, on which day Simon had to resign his
guardianship. Everything being prepared, and Simon gone to take a
parting glass with the prison officials, his wife, according to her
daily custom, conducted the little prince to a lower room. In a few
moments Ojardias arrived with the horse designed for the dauphin's
exercise. This new toy really contained in its interior a child of
about the same height as the prince, but dumb, and suffering from a
scrofulous complaint. This unfortunate boy, who had been attired in
clothing similar to the dauphin's, had partaken of a strong narcotic,
and was consequently in a profound slumber. The exercise horse was
conspicuously displayed before the prison officials, who, never having
read of the stratagem by which Troy was taken, or their vigilance
having been lulled by the pretended doctor's gold, did not find it
necessary to inspect it too minutely. No sooner was Ojardias left
alone with the dauphin than he extricated the sleeping mute from his
prison-place and deposited him on the chair recently occupied by the
prince. Rapidly explaining to little Louis what his purpose was, he
rolled him up in a bundle of linen Madame Simon had prepared for
departure, and proposed to that good lady, who was superintending the
dismantling of her rooms, that he should help her downstairs with the
said bundle. The jailer's wife feigned that she could not allow the
doctor to do anything of the kind, nevertheless permitted him to carry
off the precious burden, whilst she took occasion to inveigh pointedly
against the nonchalance of some men, who would let a poor woman work
herself to death without stirring a finger to help her. Meanwhile
Ojardias, accompanied by Simon, descended with the bundle, and
deposited it on the cart waiting to carry off the goods of the
ex-jailer, and which was immediately driven off. On the same day that
the dauphin, according to the Milan prisoner's account, had been
rescued from the Temple, Simon, in vacating his post, handed over the
substituted child to the commissioners delegated by the commune to
replace the ex-jailer. The child was still in a deep sleep, and the
commissioners had no motive for awakening it, as they had no suspicion
as to its identity. They listened to Simon's declaration, and
certified on his affidavit that "the young Capet had been remitted to
them in good health."
Such was the story given by this claimant to account for his escape
from the Temple; but such is the unfortunate habit of these pretenders,
in a subsequent account he materially altered the narrative, and
instead of being taken away in a bundle of linen, averred that he had
been removed in the toy horse itself, which Simon's wife made Ojardias
carry downstairs again after he had effected the exchange of children,
notwithstanding the remonstrance of some of the officials, under the
pretext that she would not have it brought into the room without her
husband's consent, and he, when appealed to, refused to allow of its
being introduced.
Resuming the story, as given in the _Memoires_, we read, that when the
dauphin was removed from his very confined place of imprisonment he was
cleansed, purified from the unpleasantness of his Temple captivity, and
then put to bed. In the evening he was aroused, removed, and placed in
another artificial horse, but this time it was of life size. In the
interior of this animal, which in the company of two real horses was
harnessed to a cart filled with straw, were placed every convenience
and comfort for the rescued prince. This horse was covered with real
skin, and in every respect made to imitate a living animal, so that the
officers appointed to inspect all passing vehicles were in no way
suspectful of the deception, and permitted the conveyance and its
precious freight to pass without hindrance, so that the little Duke of
Normandy, after all his troubles and mishaps, arrived safely in
Belgium, and was delivered into the hands of the Prince de Conde.
Unfortunately De Conde, instead of at once proclaiming the rescue of
his youthful king, kept the whole affair mysteriously private, and
secretly sent the boy to General Kleber, of all persons in the world!
The revolutionary general accepted the strange trust reposed in him by
his opponent, and passing off the scion of royalty as his nephew,
Monsieur Louis, took him to Egypt with him. Bonaparte was strangely
disquieted at the sight of this youth, in whom he foresaw a rival; but
the prince was once more carried away, and confided to the care of
another republican general, Desaix! This officer made the royal
shuttlecock his _aide-de-camp_, and took him with him to Italy. After
the battle of Marengo the dauphin revisited France, and instead of
seeking any of his family's adherents, confided his secret to Lucien
Bonaparte, and to Fouche, Napoleon's Minister of the Police. Certainly
an eccentric youth, and one whom it was a great waste of time to have
rescued from the Temple precincts! Fouche introduced the young prince
to Josephine, and the Empress at once recognized him from the scar
below the right eye, which Simon had caused with a serviette.
Unfortunately for his peace in France, the young man took part in
Moreau's conspiracy, and Pichegru's paper having revealed to Napoleon
the fact that Desaix's _aide-de-camp_ was none other than the Duke of
Normandy, the youthful conspirator had to fly, and, like most of his
rivals for the title of dauphin, took refuge in the United States.
The adventures of this claimant in the New World are too marvellous for
our pages; and as he prudently suppressed the account of them in the
second issue of his _Memoires_, it is not necessary to allude to them
any further. In 1815, according to his story, he returned to France,
determined to reclaim his rights. His former protector, the Prince de
Conde, at once recognized him in private, and introduced him, by means
of a curious stratagem, to his sister, the Duchess d'Angouleme. The
princess, however, regarding the dauphin as the enemy of her family,
because of the terrible avowals which Simon had wrung from him in the
Temple, refused to have anything to do with him. Flying from this
cruel reception, the repulsed brother, so he averred, had travelled
through many foreign lands, including England, when, happening to visit
Italy, he was arrested and thrown into prison in the way already
narrated.
Thanks to Silvio Pellico's charming prison records, this pretender's
story can be continued, and in a more truthful fashion. In the same
prison of Ste. Marguerite, where the Italian author was confined, was
also held in durance vile the _soi disant_ Duke of Normandy. The two
captives became acquainted, and the Frenchman, by this time probably
grown a half believer in his own imposture, declaimed so strongly
against his "uncle," Louis the Eighteenth, the usurper of his rights,
that Pellico appears to have been partly converted, whilst the jailers
were quite convinced of the authenticity of the prisoner's claims.
These guardians of the cells had seen so many changes of fortune during
the last few years, that it appeared to them by no means improbable
that one day their "royal" captive might leave his prison for a throne;
having this belief in view, they granted the pretender everything
available save freedom.
In 1825, the Austrians, deeming, doubtless, his "Royal Highness" had
had sufficient time to disabuse himself of his belief, released him
after a captivity of more than six years and a half. The pretender
took himself off to Switzerland, where he made some dupes; and in 1826
re-entered France. Grown prudent, however, he concealed his royalty
under the name of Hebert, and under that cognomen obtained employment
in the Prefecture of Rouen. As Colonel Gustave he appeared in Paris,
in 1827, and in the following year reasserted his rights, as the
following communication addressed to the Chamber of Peers shows:--
"LUXEMBOURG, 2 _February_, 1828.
"NOBLE PEERS,--Organs of justice, it is to your exalted wisdom that the
unfortunate Louis Charles de Bourbon, Duke of Normandy, confides his
interests. Saved, as by a miracle, from the hands of his ferocious
assassins, and after having languished for several years in various
countries of the globe, he addresses himself to your noble lordships.
"He does not reclaim the throne of his father; it belongs to the
nation, which alone possesses the right to dispose of it. He only
demands from your justice an asylum for his head--which he cannot
repose anywhere without peril--and in a country which more than thirty
years of exile have not caused him to forget.
"THE DUKE OF NORMANDY."
The only apparent result of this appeal was the proposition made by
Baron Mounier to the Chamber, that for the future no petition should be
received of which the petitioner's signature had not been legally
recognized, and which was not presented by a peer.
Meanwhile his "Royal Highness" was carefully sought for in Belgium and
Holland, although he was all the time concealed in Paris. He managed
during this epoch to pick up a number of anecdotes and incidents
appertaining to the captivity of the royal family in the Temple, and by
displaying the ever useful cicatrice over his right eye, and the traces
on his knees and wrists of the malady contracted during his slavery
under Simon, was enabled to gather together a faithful band of
believers, who assisted him to the full length of their purses. Among
other items of testimony, he declared that he had visited Madame Simon
on her death-bed at the Hospital of Incurables, where she did really
die on the 10th June, 1819, and that she instantly recognized him and
wept tears of pity. What, however, he pointed to as the strongest
proof of his royalty was the fact, he alleged, that every one who could
have testified to his identity had been suddenly put out of the way.
He carefully, in fact, utilized the names of such persons as he had
been acquainted with during his life, and whose decease had been in any
way sudden, or not fully explained. As, for instance, beginning with
the famous surgeon Desault, to whose care the dauphin had been
entrusted, and who had expired suddenly on the 4th of June, 1795, he
intimated that he had been poisoned, because he imprudently declined to
accept the substituted dumb child as the veritable Duke of Normandy.
In a similar way he accounted for the deaths of several well-known
personages whose lives he asserted had been sacrificed on his behalf.
He even went to the extent of asserting that Louis the Eighteenth knew
well that he was the veritable dauphin, and that when warmly
expostulated with by his nephew, the Duke de Berry, for concealing the
fact from the world, had not only excused himself by saying, "Do you
not comprehend that this recognition has become impossible, as it would
render all existing treaties invalid and imperil the general peace?"
but had even added significantly, "Take care of yourself, Berry!" And
within a fortnight De Berry fell beneath the attack of Louvel.
These accounts of those who had suffered for their lawful king,
although they may have convinced his credulous dupes, did not render it
particularly safe for the claimant to put himself near the minions of
the French police; he therefore found it prudent to keep himself
concealed, and change his _noms de guerre_ at intervals. The
revolution of 1830 afforded him, however, a fair opportunity for the
display of his talents. No sooner was a provisional government
established than the claimant, now concealing his royalty under the
title of the Baron de Richemont, addressed a demand to it that his
rights should be observed, whilst he protested against the proclamation
of the new "king of the French," as Louis Philippe was designated. The
pretender also published the following letter, which was, he averred, a
copy of one he had addressed to the Duchess d'Angouleme:--
"The time has now arrived, Madame, when, abjuring sentiments which
nature and humanity alike disavow, you should give to my case the
explanation necessary for putting an end to the ills that have
oppressed me for so many years. I will not reproach you; your position
imposes a religious silence upon me; but mine--have you considered it?
"If your heart is still able to understand the plaintive cry of
outraged nature; if more than thirty-six years of suffering and exile
would appear to you sufficient punishment for the enormous crime of
being your nearest relation; if your hate is extinguished, break this
culpable silence; since fortune once more puts you at the mercy of
foreigners, would it not be better to throw yourself into the arms of
your unfortunate brother?
"LOUIS CHARLES."
Notwithstanding this appeal, the princess did not seek out the
persevering claimant, although the police did, and on the 29th August,
1833, succeeded in arresting him. He refused to give his name, but the
act of accusation styled him Ethelbert Louis Hector Alfred, calling
himself "Baron de Richemont." His real name, however, was supposed to
be Hebert, as in all affairs of importance he had borne that, although
he had used a variety of others. Among the witnesses called was
Andryane, who had been a fellow-prisoner with the accused in Italy;
Lasne, now seventy-four, who had been a personal attendant on the
dauphin in the Temple, and who testified that he was well acquainted
with the person of the little prince, who had died in his arms,
although two strangers had been to his house to vainly try and persuade
him that the child had been changed; the Duke de Choiseul, who, when
interrogated by the prisoner, acknowledged that certain words ascribed
to Marie Antoinette had been overheard by him; the Duke de Caraman
remembered that an intriguing individual named Ojardias had brought to
Thiers a sickly child, that for the moment passed for the dauphin;
whilst Monsieur Remusat, a medical man, deposed that Simon's widow, who
died in a hospital in 1815, had told him that the dauphin was not dead.
On this slender fabric the _soi disant_ "Duke of Normandy" based his
case, and with much dignity, and real or happily simulated emotion,
recounted the story the reader is already acquainted with. At times
his audience did not fail to manifest interest and sympathy in his
recital. When the prosecution had spoken, and his advocate had
presented the defence, the claimant said with calm dignity: "The
Advocate-General has told you that I am not the son of Louis the
Sixteenth; does he tell you who I am? I have formally requested him to
do so, but he preserves silence. Gentlemen, you will appreciate this
silence, as also the cause which hinders us from producing our titles.
This is neither the place nor the time. Competent tribunals will have
to decree what is needed in that respect. You have been informed that
inquiries have been made everywhere, but the Advocate-General is very
careful not to let you know the result: he is not able to, his power
does not extend so far as that, because another power forbids it. And
what, gentlemen, would you think if, with a man like me, and at such a
moment, they had neglected to carry out their investigations in the
places where I have sojourned, and notably at Milan! No, no,
gentlemen, do not believe but that they have written everywhere, and
everywhere have obtained that which they asked for, that which they
dare not make known to you. If I am in error, it is in the best faith;
unfortunately, I have been in this belief for about fifty years, and I
see well that I shall bear this error with me to the grave."
Ultimately the Court, whilst acquitting Hebert of roguery and
conspiracy, found him guilty of sedition, and he was sentenced to
twelve years of detention. He listened to his sentence without
manifesting any emotion, and in retiring said, "He who does not know
how to suffer is not worthy of the honour of persecution!" In 1835
Hebert contrived to escape from prison, in company with two other
captives, and succeeded in getting out of France. For some years this
pretender contented himself with urging his claims from abroad, and
with re-issuing revised and enlarged editions of his _Memoires_, still
sustained by the credulity of his dupes; but in 1848, protected by the
general amnesty, he returned to his native land, and addressed a
declaration of his rights to the National Assembly. This proclamation
did not appear to excite any public attention, any more than did his
declaration of adhesion to the Republic, or the notification of that
deed, which he forwarded to the Duchess d'Angouleme, on the 27th of
March, 1849.
This claimant, in many respects the most noteworthy of those who
aspired to the titles of the unfortunate dauphin, died in 1855, in the
little commune of Gleyze, in the district of Villefranche-sur-Saone,
and was interred there on the 10th of August of that year.
THE FALSE DAUPHINS: NAeUNDORFF.
During the trial of the _soi disant_ Baron de Richemont, the spectators
were surprised and amused by a singular declaration addressed to the
jury by another pseudo-dauphin. This claimant, who varied the old
story by styling himself Charles Louis in lieu of Louis Charles,
protested that De Richemont was only an impostor put forward in order
to confuse public opinion, and stifle the voice of the veritable Duke
of Normandy, the author of this document!
This new pretender, if the royalists are to be believed, was a certain
Charles William Naundorff, member of a Jewish family of Polish Prussia,
and was born in 1775, or ten years earlier than the dauphin. He turned
up at Berlin in 1810, and resided there for about two years, earning
his livelihood by selling clocks. In 1812 he removed to Spandau,
obtained the rights of citizenship, and married the daughter of a
Heidelberg pipemaker. He professed to be a Protestant, spoke French
with a villainous accent, and yet, in 1825, from some unaccountable
reason, gave out to the world that he was the son of Louis the
Sixteenth. He had been in many difficulties before he complicated
matters by assuming the Duke of Normandy's titles, having been accused
of being an incendiary in 1824, and some months later of coining, for
which latter offence he was sentenced to three years' detention in the
Penitentiary of Brandenburg. On being released from captivity he set
up a claim to be the son of Louis the Sixteenth, and actually had the
foolhardiness to institute proceedings against the ex-king, Charles the
Tenth, and the Duchess d'Angouleme. All he gained by this audacity was
an immediate arrest, and expulsion from the frontiers of France, in
which country he had taken up his abode. Nothing daunted by this
summary action, the pretender appealed to the Council of State, and
obtained the services of Monsieur Cremieux to defend his cause, not, it
is true, as the son of Louis the Sixteenth, but as a foreigner
illegally arrested and expelled. Unsuccessful in his suit, Naundorff
passed into England, and continued to play his _role_ of ill-used
royalty. By these means, and by practising as a spiritualist, the _soi
disant_ prince contrived to make enough dupes to live by. In 1843 he
got into some difficulties with the English police, and being made
bankrupt, had to leave the country. Taking refuge in Holland, he
expired at Delft, on the 10th of August, 1845.
Unfortunately Naundorff's pretensions did not die with him, for he left
two children, Louis and Marie Antoinette "de Bourbon," who some few
years since renewed their claims to the reversion of the French throne.
In 1873, the son, Louis, summoned the Count de Chambord before a Paris
court, to show cause why a judgment pronounced many years ago against
Naundorff's father, by the Civil Tribunal of the Seine, should not be
reversed in his, Louis's, favour. Notwithstanding the fact that the
putative "grandson" of Louis the Sixteenth retained the services of
Jules Favre as an advocate, he was unable to soften the iron hearts of
the Parisian jury, and had to subside into oblivion.