carried on while James was at Bar, to find the Pretender a suitable wife.
According to Mrs Strickland this was rather a romantic affair. James was
dying to marry his cousin, the Princess d'Este, while, on the other hand,
the Princess Sobieska and Mademoiselle de Valois were both dying to marry
him. In truth, there was no dying on either side, and the wooing
originated, not in James's feeble affections--which were probably occupied
to the full extent of their capacity with that young lady on the hill--but
in the fertile brain of his scheming and restless host. Mrs Strickland, I
ought to say, rather overrates the position of the Princess Sobieska, who
eventually _did_ marry the Chevalier; and if there was any romance in her
affection, she lived to be cured of it. Being the daughter only of an
elective king, a _parvenu_ among royal personages, she was looked upon as
a princess rather by courtesy than of right. Even to James, down in the
world as he was, Leopold--in a manner her kinsman--did not dare to propose
her except as a _pis aller_, when all hopes elsewhere were extinguished.
His first proposal was an Austrian archduchess. He evidently thought the
suggestion one which would do him credit. It would be a downright good
"Catholic" match. It was bound to help the Pretender, and it might be
agreeable to the Emperor, and so secure him, Leopold, very much on the
look-out for favours as he was, gratitude in two influential quarters.
The mere moral effect, he says, of an alliance entered into by the premier
dynasty of Europe with the outcast Stuart prince must prove immensely to
James's advantage. But there was money, too--which James particularly
wanted--much money, heaped up in the Hofburg. James assented--though with
nothing seemingly of eagerness; for it took him some months to grasp the
full meaning of the idea. The proposal was made in March, 1714--long
before the Princess Sobieska was thought of; and, as Leopold reports with
unmistakable satisfaction, it was _assez goute_ at Vienna. Only, the
Princess asked for--the younger daughter of the late Emperor--was very
young, in fact, a child in the nursery, and the marriage could not
possibly take place for some considerable time. So, the Emperor thought,
the matter had best be kept quiet. Nothing daunted, rather encouraged,
Leopold, with James's approval, returned to the charge in June. If the
younger archduchess was too young--very well, let it be the elder,
Elizabeth, who was at that time heir-presumptive to the crown. (For Maria
Theresa, the reigning Emperor's daughter, was not yet born.) Vienna took
time to consider. James's appetite grew keen, and in July we find him
plying the Emperor with two memorials, drawn up with the help of Nairne.
So elated did he grow over his supposed brilliant prospects, that he
returned very cold answers indeed to Cardinal Gualterio's well-meant
representations in favour of a union with another lady--was it the
Princess d'Este, Gualterio's own countrywoman? There was no money in that
quarter. Accordingly James haughtily pronounces the marriage "_pas
faisable_." But he pushes his suit at Vienna. It must be, he urges in his
first memorial, altogether to the Emperor's interest that the Archduchess
Elizabeth should be married to "_une personne qui ait asses de naissance
et d'autres bonnes qualites personelles pour estre choisi apres lui a
remplir sa place_." Such a person James considers himself to be. And he
puts his case in this way. Either the English crown will fall to him or it
will not. If it does, well, then, there he is, a most desirable, wealthy,
and influential nephew-in-law. If it does not, there he is, again, the
fittest person in the world to succeed to the Imperial crown. In the
second memorial, issued shortly after, he presses some further points.
Hanover must not be allowed to grow too powerful. Indeed, as a Protestant
Power, it is too "_formidable_" already, and the "_Duc d'Hannovre_" is
"_un redoutable Rival_." But, "_il est certain qu'il (l'empereur) a moins
a apprehender de l'Angleterre sans le Duc d'Hannovre que de le Duc
d'Hannovre sans l'Angleterre_." Therefore--the reasoning does not seem
quite clear--James ought to be supported; or else, certainly, the Duc
d'Hannovre should be made to forego one of the two crowns--either Hanover
or England, a proposal which James pronounces perfectly "_juste et
nullement impracticable_." The proposal does not, however, "fetch" the
Emperor, who goes on procrastinating. But, on the other hand, Louis XIV,
gets wind of it, though he was not meant to, through D'Audriffet, and
grows uneasy, throwing all the cold water that he can upon the scheme.
Meanwhile in England things go against the Pretender. Queen Anne dies,
King George succeeds, and, in spite of James's solemn protest, addressed
to the Powers in English, French, and Latin, England seems perfectly
content. After this it is not surprising to find Leopold, when James
returns to the subject of his marriage, shaking his head discouragingly,
and pointing out that the Pretender's matrimonial value has fallen
appreciably in the market. He must no longer look "so high." Besides, the
Emperor will not care to embroil himself by such a marriage with the
Government of King George, with which he has struck up a friendship which,
in Louis XIV.'s words, promises to prove alike "_solide et sincere_." Now,
there is the Princess Sobieska! Leopold thinks that he could manage that.
Through her mother she is a niece of the Empress Eleanor. Therefore, to a
certain extent, James will still secure the Hapsburg interest. As for
marrying the Archduchess, that is out of the question. James does not see
it. He goes on harping upon the Archduchess Elizabeth, and worrying poor
Leopold to resume negotiations.
Leopold found worry of a more serious sort besetting him, on account of
James, in a different quarter. To satisfy France was all very well. But
what in this matter satisfied France offended England. Now, England itself
was very little to the Duke of Lorraine. Louis XIV. kept assuring him that
English complaints and remonstrances should have "_point de suite_," and
that he would see him through the business. He had "nothing to fear."
Accordingly, when the English Houses of Parliament began, very
unreasonably, to memorialise Queen Anne in favour of moving for James's
expulsion from "ungrateful" Lorraine, though the Court of St Germains
showed itself, as we are told, "_fort picquee de ses addresses_," Leopold
simply smiled, and assured James that he would see that those addresses
remained "_inutiles_." He did not quite like it when Baron Foerstner, his
envoy in London, reported the two parties in England, both "Thoris" and
"Wighs," to be unanimous on the point. James himself, whom he consulted
without any result, confessed himself in an "_embarras de prendre le
meilleur party_." However, Bolingbroke had advised Foerstner that no notice
should be taken; the English nation "_se portoit tantot a une chose et
tantot a une autre_;" Parliament was about to be dissolved, and in the new
House the whole thing might be forgotten. King Louis explained the
resolution as a Whig dodge, a shibboleth, designed to make it clear who
were the Pretender's supporters. However, the remonstrances went on. Two
bishops made themselves ridiculous by very indiscreet and officious
interference. The Duke judges that this "_n'estoit qu'une grimace de la
Cour d'Angleterre_." But after a time he grows irritable, and recalls his
envoy--quite as much in disgust as for economy. That does not mend
matters--no more does the Duke's letter, written at the French king's
suggestion for communication to Prior. D'Audriffet's despatch of 3d May,
1714, shows that Leopold at that time quite expected that he might be made
to give effect to the English demand. Meanwhile Queen Anne dies. James
issues his proclamation, at which George and our Parliament take
needlessly great offence, and an icy coldness springs up between the two
Courts--just under circumstances under which coldness is least acceptable
to Leopold. For, however little Queen Anne might have had it in her power
to cross him, her successor is Elector of Hanover as well as King of
England, fast friends with the Emperor, and has a great say in the
bestowal of ecclesiastical patronage in Germany, for which Leopold, on
behalf of his "near and dear relations" has an insatiable appetite.
Accordingly he grows uncomfortable. He notices with alarm, so the letters
show, that George takes an unusually long time advising him of the late
Queen's death, and when the advice comes, it says nothing about his own
accession. Anxious to make up the breach, Leopold at once despatches a
special envoy, Lambertye, to present his congratulations. To the Duke's
dismay George will not receive him. Leopold, however, bids him stay where
he is, and addresses to the king his well-known memorial, which must
certainly be pronounced dignified in tone and just in substance. James's
proclamation, Leopold shows, was issued without any knowledge or consent
on his part. Privately, he causes it to be explained that he is simply
obeying dictatorial orders from Versailles. But--"_on a beau leur dire_,"
writes de Bosque, D'Audriffet's substitute, on the 31st of October, "_que
la France a vn pouuoir arbitraire sur le Duc de Lorrain et ses Etats, cela
no les contente plus_." The poor Duke grows most uncomfortable. However,
in January the matter is made up, and King George consents to receive
Lambertye at last--at the very time when Queen Mary Beatrice threatens
once more to trouble relations just settling down again, with her visit to
Luneville. In any case Lambertye's mission did not bring Lorraine any
good--except, says Noel, it be the importation of a new variety of potato,
which he carried home from England, and which proved much superior to the
old Lorrain sort.
If our statesmen had little right to call upon Leopold to expel James,
they had of course every reason to be vigilant. And they do not appear to
have failed often in that duty. To be quite fair, James's followers, on
the whole, made the task pretty easy for them. They were always plotting,
but at the same time also always letting out their secret--a tippler
talking in his cups; an officer confiding intelligence to his sweetheart;
a bungling conspirator boasting in very big words. Long before October,
1715, when the great "invasion" at length took place, we have references
to some intended move. All is promptly reported to England, and to Paris,
where, after his arrival at his post, Stair, when not engaged in smuggling
goods for his friends,--"_poil de chevre_ stockings of different colours
of grey, and long enough of the feet and legs" for the Duke of Argyll,
besides knives, spoons, and forks of the St. Cloud pattern, all with
"chiney" handles to them; a "bodyes," a "monto," and a "peticoate" for
Lady Harriet Godolphin, to oblige the Duchess of Marlborough; moreover,
silk gowns for the Countess of Loudoun--spares neither pains nor money to
obtain the very best and most prompt intelligence. On the whole, he is
admirably served, though occasionally he finds himself on a wrong scent,
and even at the critical time, notwithstanding Mrs. Strickland's statement
as to Mademoiselle du Chatelet's jealous peaching, it seems as if
Bolingbroke were after all right, and our Ambassador had been put upon the
right tack too late.
At length, after much posting backwards and forwards of trusted but
untrustworthy messengers and confidants, after more than one false alarm,
and one very provoking act of treachery (on the part of a bankrupt
banker), after much dissuasion from the Duke of Lorraine, who seems to
have exhausted all his powers of reasonable argument in vain, after
stealthy visits said to have been paid by Bolingbroke and Ormonde to Bar,
and by Mar to Commercy, the great move takes place. To the end Leopold
appears to have considered James's recall by the spontaneous act of the
English nation a probable contingency. Now he warns him that a Hanoverian
king on the English throne will play his game far more effectually than he
himself possibly can by taking up arms--that, in the face of the
unpopularity which the foreign ruler is sure to bring upon himself, if
left alone, James will, by raising the flag of rebellion, only be cutting
his own throat. However, James will pay no heed. Learning prudence, at any
rate, as the time for action draws nearer, both the Chevalier and his
friends grow close and uncommunicative, so as to extract complaints even
from D'Audriffet, who, having been previously let into all the harmless
little secrets of the plot at first hand, now finds himself reduced to
coaxing intelligence out of "_une personne attachee au Chevalier de St.
Georges, qui est de mes amies_." However, in October, just before the
departure actually takes place, Leopold confides to him that James has
expressed himself resolved to take his fortune into his own hand. He has
been advised from England and Scotland that circumstances will never be
more favourable. If he misses this chance, he will have no other. "_C'est
tout gagner ou tout perdre._"
At this time it is that James addresses to his friend Cardinal Gualterio
at Rome a curious "_Memoire sur un Lit_," which seems worth recording. He
begs Gualterio to purchase, at once, as if for himself, "_un grand bois de
lit a la francoise propre a coucher deux personnes, avec un dossier, mais
point des pilliers. Le fond du lit de bon coutil--renforce avec sangles_."
Also, "_deux bons mattelas de bonne laine d'Ang{re.} proportionnes a la
grandeur du lit_." His Eminence, James adds, will easily guess the purpose
for which the bed is designed--a purpose depending upon "_un certain cas
qu'on espere pouuoir arriver bientot, mais qui doit etre tres secret
jusqu'a ce qu'il soit asseure_." He adds that he wants "_ni couuertures,
ni tour de lit, ni ciel de lit, parcequ'on a tout cela ici_." The whole
thing reminds one of that famous musical armchair which was ordered on
behalf of Napoleon III., to be delivered at Berlin in 1870.
The final escape of James was, on the whole, managed with secresy and some
skill, though things went a little untowardly. Stair, who was sparing no
pains to keep the Pretender watched to his every step, was a little
deceived, partly by that false information which Bolingbroke says that he
purposely gave him, partly by the equivocal bearing of the Regent and
Torcy, who were both secretly befriending the Chevalier. Certainly Stair
got his correct intelligence too late to be of much use, and so sent to
Chateau Thierry to have James seized after the bird had flown. Cadogan in
Brussels was better informed. He had stationed a "gentleman from
Mecklenburgh," M. de Pless, at Nancy, ostensibly to attend the Academy,
really to play the spy upon the Pretender. A letter from the Regent to
D'Audriffet shows that the object of his mission was perfectly understood
in the French capital. The news of the Chevalier's departure comes out
through the indiscretion of some one in the secret arriving from
Commercy--and immediately Pless takes formal leave of the Duke, and
hurries without a moment's delay off to Brussels, where Cadogan has a
courier ready, who, but for provokingly prolonged contrary winds, would
have reached England in excellent time.
Finding the Chevalier's mind made up, Leopold, wishing to be kind to the
last, sends his _protege_ as a parting gift, along with an affectionate
valedictory letter, the acceptable present of 27,000 louis in gold, which
James at once stows away in his private strong-box. This, we read, he was
in the habit of always carrying about with him, placing it under his bed
at night, and allowing no one to come near it. How he managed to transport
it when riding on horseback from St Malo to Dunkirk, we are not told.
It is well known that James started from Commercy on the 28th of October,
1715, in disguise. But the precise manner of his escape is not generally
quite correctly related. It explains why, for a full fortnight after
James's disappearance, newspapers still go on reporting his supposed
doings in Lorraine. The escape was of course abetted by the Prince de
Vaudemont, who, to make it possible, invited a large company to Commercy
for the day appointed, to hunt in his forests. James went out to hunt, and
James apparently came back in the evening. But the James who returned was
not the James who had gone out with the Pretender, but a follower of his,
who bore a striking resemblance to his master, and had more than once been
mistaken for him. Who this gentleman was I have not been able to trace.
With this man James had exchanged clothes, unseen by any one, out in the
forest. And so, as the Duc de Villeroy writes to Madame de Maintenon (the
letter is in the Paris MSS), "_Il partit misterieusement de Commerci en
chaise roulante, vestu du violet en Ecclesiastique, avec un petit colet,
malgre la vigilance des Espions, sans qu'ils ayent pu auoir ni vent ni
nouvelles de son depart, que deux ou trois jours apres sa sortie_." The
Pretender pursued his journey, carefully avoiding highroads, reaching
Peterhead safely in the end, though only after much travelling backwards
and forwards, taking pains to elude Stair's spies, who were placed at all
important points. At Nonancourt he narrowly missed being caught, as we
know, by Captain Douglas and two other emissaries, evidently what Bunyan
calls "ill-favoured ones." For the impression became general in
France--over which the editor of 'The Annals of the Earls of Stair,' Mr
Murray Graham, grows exceedingly indignant--that these men were assassins
retained to destroy the Pretender by Lord Stair, whose passports they
carried, and who promptly came to their rescue when they were brought
before the Grand Prevot de la Haute Normandie. Very probably they looked
cut-throats. One of them was armed. And as cut-throats, not spies, the
_maitresse de la poste_ cautioned James against them, helping him off, to
save his life, in a disguise and with a guide provided by herself. As
supposed cut-throats they were seized by the police, and as cut-throats
they were brought before the judge. Stair's interference probably it was
that saved their lives. But all his explanations and all his protestations
could not for a long time remove from the mind of the French people the
impression that the men were assassins. The Regent, we hear, released them
without inquiry, simply to avoid scandal.
How the Pretender's enterprise ended we all know. He does not appear to
have been particularly attentive to his late host, the Duke of Lorraine.
On the 24th of October he sent him a formal farewell; but on the 7th
November we have the Duke stating as a grievance that he is without news.
During November we find people in Paris growing remarkably confident. On
the 2d of December Lord Stair complains that "_les plus sages a la Cour_"
are just again beginning to treat the Chevalier as Pretender. Until two
days before he was "King of England" to every one in Paris, "_et tout le
monde avoit leve le masque_." There was not a single Frenchman, having any
connection with the Court, who so much as set foot in Stair's house.
Everybody thought that the Stuart cause was about to triumph. But the 11th
of January, 1716, saw James back at Gravelines, "_d'ou il repassa en
Lorraine_," say the MSS. in the _Archives Nationales_. Mrs Strickland will
have it that he went to Paris, where Bollingbroke advised him to go
straight into Lorraine, without first asking leave of the Duke--which
advice he did not follow. Independent Lorrain sources state that he passed
through Lorraine, "_courant la poste a 9 chevaux_." As he had left all his
goods and chattels at Bar-le-Duc, that seems the more likely version.
Before his departure Duke Leopold had assured the Pretender that his
dominions would always be open to him, and that he "_pourroit compter sur
luy en tout ce qui en pourroit dependre_." In March, however, under
altered circumstances, we find him advising Queen Mary Beatrice "for the
second time," that he cannot again receive her son into his duchy. The
Pretender himself seems to have taken the first warning. For we read in
the 'Gazette de Hollande' that his _Domestiques et Equipages_ were removed
from Bar to Paris in February. According to M. Konarski (I have not
verified the entry in the archives, but it is doubtless correct) James
left Bar on the 9th of February, "_sans adresser ses remerciments et ses
adieux au duc Leopold_," says Noel; "_comme un escroc vulgaire_," says M.
Konarski. "_Ne se contentant pas de largent que Leopold lui donnait il
emprunta des sommes assez fortes aux seigneurs et partit sans les
rembourser._" The sum of 15,000 francs paid to his friend M. de
Bassompierre, which appears in the official accounts, is only one such
debt. "_Cette ingratitude de la part du Chevalier de Saint Georges_," adds
Noel, "_indignait toute la Cour_." People spoke to Leopold about it.
"Gentlemen," said the Duke, "you forget that this Prince is in misfortune,
and that he was a king." On another occasion he remarked to M.
Bardin:--"He has done me justice; he has thought that I have simply
performed my duty in assisting an unfortunate."
If the direct benefits which the hospitality extended to James brought to
Lorraine were less than nil, the indirect were scarcely more valuable. No
doubt, the Pretender having set the example, not a few Roman Catholics
from the United Kingdom, so Noel relates, sought the same hospitable
refuge. Others came--among them both Noel and Marchal name the elder
Pitt--to take advantage of the new Academy opened by Leopold, and rapidly
blossoming into greatness under such distinguished masters as Duval and
Vayringe. Some of these men brought plenty of money with them, and their
liberal fees went to swell acceptably the new professors' receipts. But
the number of impecunious persons, more particularly Irish, who flowed to
the Lorrain Court to prey upon Leopold's generosity, seems to have been
even larger. "_Nous regorgeons d'Irlandais_," writes the Duke's friend
Bardin in 1719--_Irlandais_ who evidently boasted but little money and
less gratitude. Bardin complains of an exceptionally bad case of the
latter sort. Leopold mildly replies. "I helped him, not for his sake, but
for my own."
* * * * *
In 1749, when the Duc faineant, Stanislas Leszinski, "_simple gentilhomme
lithuanien_," was holding his gay little Court at Luneville, with Voltaire
and Madame du Chatelet to lend brilliancy to it, and Madame de Boufflers
to preside as elderly Venus, we read that the whole company were deeply
touched when the great French writer, as was his wont, read out aloud his
just completed chapter on the Stuarts, in the 'Siecle de Louis XV.'
Everybody had a regret for the hardly used dynasty. Scarcely had Voltaire
closed his book, when in rushed a messenger, bringing the tidings that
James's son, Charles Edward, doubly an exile after the failure of his
rebellion of 1745, had, on the demand of the English Government, been
seized at Paris on leaving the Opera. "Oh heaven!" exclaimed Voltaire,
"is it possible that the king can suffer such an indignity, and that his
glory can have been tarnished by a stain which all the water of the Seine
will not wash away!" The whole company was moved. Voltaire retired
gloomily into his own room, threw down his MS. into a corner, and did not
take the work up again till he found himself amid the more prosaic
surroundings of Berlin. Very shortly after Charles Edward himself knocked
at Stanislas' door. What he did during the nearly three years that he was
a refugee at Luneville, it seems impossible to ascertain. The French State
Papers are silent--at Luneville not a tradition has survived. His doings
evidently were not considered worth recording. The drama of Stuart
kingship was played out. The dream had come to an end. And so Courts grew
cold.
* * * * *
A fate not so very dissimilar--except for one brilliant saving
incident--awaited those very Dukes who had shown hospitality so freely to
the Stuarts. The Stuart Pretendership and the Lorrain Dukedom came to an
end at pretty nearly the same time. Hanover elbowed out the one, France
the other. The Stuarts went down for good. The Lorrains found themselves
transplanted to Vienna, and crowned with the Imperial diadem. They brought
their new country good qualities and manners insuring popularity. But they
brought it no luck. For once the old Austrian distich spoke wrong:--
"Bella gerunt alii, tu, felix Austria, nube!
Nam quae Mars aliis, dat tibi regna Venus."
Under the Lorrain Emperors came the Seven Years' War, which lost Austria
Silesia; the Napoleonic wars, which lost much territory in the west;
1859, which lost part of her Italian possessions; 1866, which tore away
the rest, and, moreover, turned Austria out of Germany. But the Lorrain
Emperors have not forgotten their old virtue of hospitality. It may seem a
strange whim of fate that at the present time the principal among those
dispossessed sovereigns and unrecognised Pretenders who have flocked for
protection under the hospitable "Double Cross," now carried back almost to
its Eastern birthplace, should be the direct descendant and
representative, six generations down, of the relentless and troublesome
rival of that same Stuart James, whom, with not a little risk and cost to
himself, the last really Lorrain Duke generously sheltered in the years
from 1713 to 1716.
II.--RICHARD DE LA POLE, "WHITE ROSE."[4]