INTRIGUES, POLITICAL AND AMATORY. DEATH OF MADEMOISELLE LUCI, 1752
Hopes from Prussia—The Murrays of Elibank—Imprisonment of Alexander
Murray—Recommended to Charles—The Elibank plot—Prussia and the Earl
Marischal—His early history—Ambassador of Frederick at Versailles—His odd
household—Voltaire—The Duke of Newcastle’s resentment—Charles’s view of
Frederick’s policy—His alleged avarice—Lady Montagu—His money-box—Goring
and the Earl Marischal—Secret meetings—The lace shop—Albemarle’s
information—Charles at Ghent—Hanbury Williams’s mares’ nests—Charles and
‘La Grandemain’—She and Goring refuse to take his orders—Appearance of
Miss Walkinshaw—Her history—Remonstrances of Goring—‘Commissions for the
worst of men’—‘The little man’—Lady Primrose—Death of Mademoiselle
Luci—November 10, date of postponed Elibank plot—Danger of dismissing an
agent.
WE have seen that Charles’s hopes, in July 1751, were turned towards
Prussia and Sweden. To these Courts he had sent Goring in June.
Meanwhile a new and strange prospect was opening to him in England. On
the right bank of Tweed, just above Ashiesteil, is the ruined shell of
the old tower of Elibank, the home of the Murrays. A famous lady of that
family was Muckle Mou’d Meg, whom young Harden, when caught while driving
Elibank’s kye, preferred to the gallows as a bride. In 1751 the owner of
the tower on Tweed was Lord Elibank; to all appearance a douce, learned
Scots laird, the friend of David Hume, and a customer for the wines of
Montesquieu’s vineyards at La Brède. He had a younger brother, Alexander
Murray, and the politics of the pair, says Horace Walpole, were of the
sort which at once kept the party alive, and made it incapable of
succeeding. Their measures were so taken that they did not go out in the
Forty-five, yet could have proved their loyalty had Charles reached St.
James’s in triumph. Walpole calls Lord Elibank ‘a very prating,
impertinent Jacobite.’ {125} As for the younger brother, Alexander
Murray, Sir Walter Scott writes, in his introduction to ‘Redgauntlet,’ ‘a
young Scotchman of rank is said to have stooped so low as to plot the
surprisal of St. James’s Palace and the assassination of the Royal
family.’
This was the Elibank plot, which we shall elucidate later.
In the spring and summer of 1751, Alexander Murray had lain in Newgate,
on a charge of brawling at the Westminster election. He was kept in
durance because he would not beg the pardon of the House on his knees: he
only kneeled to God, he said. He was released by the sheriffs at the
close of the session, and was escorted by the populace to Lord Elibank’s
house in Henrietta Street. He then crossed to France, and, in July 1751,
‘Dixon’ (Dr. King?) thus reports of him to Charles:
‘My lady [Lady Montagu or Lady Primrose?] says that M. [Murray] is
most zealously attached to you, and that he is upon all occasions
ready to obey your commands, and to meet you when and where you
please . . . He assures my lady that he can raise five hundred men
for your service in and about Westminster.’
These men were to be used in a plot for seizing the Royal family in
London. This scheme went on simmering, blended with intrigues for
Prussian and Swedish help, and, finally, with a plan for a simultaneous
rising in the Highlands. And this combination was the last effort of
Jacobitism before the general abandonment of Charles by his party.
The hopes, as regarded Prussia, were centred in Frederick’s friend, the
brother of Marshal Keith, the Earl Marischal. The Earl was by this time
an old man. At Queen Anne’s death he had held a command in the Guards,
and if he had frankly backed Atterbury when the bishop proposed to
proclaim King James, the history of England might have been altered, and
the Duke of Argyll’s regiment, at Kensington, would have had to fight for
the Crown. {126} The Earl missed his chance. He fought at Shirramuir
(1715), and he with his brother, later Marshal Keith, was in the unlucky
Glensheil expedition from Spain (1719). That endeavour failed, leaving
hardly a trace, save the ghost of a foreign colonel which haunts the
roadside of Glensheil. From that date the Earl was a cheery, contented,
philosophic exile, with no high opinion of kings. Spain was often his
abode, where he found, as he said, ‘his old friend, the sun.’ In 1744 he
declined to accompany the Prince, in a herring-boat, to Scotland. In the
Forty-five he did not cross the Channel, but, as we have seen,
endeavoured to wring men and money from d’Argenson. In 1747 the Earl,
then at Treviso, declined to be Charles’s minister on the score of
‘broken health.’ {127a} Charles, as we saw, vainly asked the Earl for a
meeting at Venice in 1749. Indeed, Charles got nothing from his adherent
but a mother-of-pearl snuff-box, with the portrait of the old gentleman.
{127b} The Earl dwelt, not always on the best terms, with his brother,
Marshal Keith, at Berlin, and was treated as a real friend, for a marvel,
by Frederick.
On July 20 the Earl had seen Goring at Berlin, and wrote to Charles.
Nothing, he said, could be done by Swedish aid. If Sweden moved, Russia
would attack her, nor could Frederick, in his turn, assail Russia, for
Russia and the Empress Maria Theresa would have him between two fires.
{127c} Frederick now (August 1751) took a step decidedly unfriendly as
regarded his uncle of England. He sent the Earl Marischal as his
ambassador to the Court of Versailles. This was precisely as if the
United States were to send a banished Fenian as their Minister to Paris.
The Earl was proscribed for treason in England, and, as we shall see, his
house in Paris became the centre of truly Fenian intrigues. On these the
worthy Earl was wont to give the opinion of an impartial friend. All
this was known to the English Government, as we shall show, through
Pickle, and the knowledge must have strained the relations between George
II. and ‘our Nephew,’ as Horace Walpole calls Frederick of Prussia.
The Earl’s household, when he left Potzdam in August 1751 for Paris, is
thus described by Voltaire: ‘You will see a very pretty little Turkess,
whom he carries with him: they took her at the siege of Oczakow, and made
a present of her to our Scot, who seems to have no great need of her.
She is an excellent Mussalwoman: her master allows her perfect freedom of
conscience. He has also a sort of Tartar _Valet de chambre_ [Stepan was
his name], who has the honour to be a Pagan.’ {128a} On October 29,
Voltaire writes that he has had a letter from the Earl in Paris. ‘He
tells me that his Turk girl, whom he took to the play to see _Mahomet_
[Voltaire’s drama] was much scandalised.’
Voltaire was to receive less agreeable news from the friend of Frederick.
‘Some big Prussian will box your ears,’ said the Earl Marischal, after
Voltaire’s famous quarrel with his Royal pupil.
The appointment of an attainted rebel to be Ambassador at Versailles
naturally offended England. The Duke of Newcastle wrote to Lord
Hardwicke: {128b}
‘One may easily see the views with which the King of Prussia has
taken this offensive step: first, for the sake of doing an
impertinence to the King; then to deter us from going on with our
negotiations in the Empire, for the election of a King of the Romans,
and to encourage the Jacobite party, that we may apprehend
disturbances from them, if a rupture should ensue in consequence of
the measures we are taking abroad.’ He therefore proposes a subsidy
to Russia, to overawe Frederick.
At Paris, Yorke remonstrated. Hardwicke writes on September 10, 1751:
‘I am glad Joe ventured to say what he did to M. Puysieux,’ but ‘Joe’
spoke to no purpose.
James was pleased by the Earl Marischal’s promotion and presence in
Paris. Charles, at first, was aggrieved. He wrote:
‘L. M. coming to Paris is a piece of French politics, on the one side
to bully the people of England; on the other hand to hinder our
friends from doing the thing by themselves, bambouseling them with
hopes. . . . They mean to sell us as usual. . . . The Doctor [Dr.
King] is to be informed that Goring saw Lord Marischal, but nothing
to be got from him.’
The Prince mentions his ‘distress for money,’ and sends compliments to
Dawkins, ‘Jemmy Dawkins,’ of whom we shall hear plenty. He sends ‘a
watch for the lady’ (Lady Montagu?).
I venture a guess at Lady Montagu, because Dr. King tells, as a proof of
Charles’s avarice, that he took money from a lady in Paris when he had
plenty of his own. {130a}
Now, on September 15, 1751, Charles sent to Dormer a receipt for ‘One
Thousand pounds, which he paid me by orders for account of the Right
Honourable Vicecountess of Montagu,’ signed ‘C. P. R.’ {130b} Again, on
quitting Paris on December 1, 1751, he left, in a coffer, ‘2,250
_Louidors_, besides what there is in a little bag above, amounting to
about 130 guines, and od Zequins or ducats.’ These, with ‘a big box of
books,’ were locked up in the house of the Comtesse de Vassé, Rue St.
Dominique, Faubourg de St. Germain, in which street Montesquieu lived.
The deposit was restored later to Charles by ‘Madame La Grandemain,’
‘sister’ of Mademoiselle Luci. In truth, Charles, for a Prince with an
ambition to conquer England, was extremely poor, and a loyal lady did not
throw away her guineas, as Dr. King states, on a merely avaricious
adventurer. Charles (August 25, 1751) was in correspondence with ‘Daniel
Macnamara, Esq., at the Grecian Coffee-house, Temple, London,’ who later
plays a fatal part in the Prince’s career.
This is a private interlude: we return to practical politics.
No sooner was the Earl Marischal in Paris than Charles made advances to
the old adherent of his family. He sent Goring post-haste to the French
capital. Goring, who already knew the Earl, writes (September 20, 1731):
‘My instructions are not to let myself be seen by anybody whatever but
your Lordship.’ The Earl answers on the same day: ‘If you yourself know
any safe way for both of us, tell it me. There was a garden belonging to
a Mousquetaire, famous for fruit, by Pique-price, beyond it some way. I
could go there as out of curiosity to see the garden, and meet you
to-morrow towards five o’clock; but if you know a better place, let me
know it. Remember, I must go with the footmen, and remain in coach as
usual, so that the garden is best, because I can say, if it came possibly
to be known, that it was by chance I met you.’
‘An ambassador,’ as Sir Henry Wotton remarked, ‘is an honest man sent to
lie abroad for his country,’ an observation taken very ill by Gentle King
Jamie. {131}
Goring replied that the garden was too public. The night would be the
surest time. Goring could wear livery, or dress as an Abbé. The
Tuileries, when ‘literally dark,’ might serve. On September 23, the Earl
answers, ‘One of my servants knows you since Vienna.’ Goring, as we
know, had been in the Austrian service. ‘I will go to the Tuileries when
it begins to grow dark, if it does not rain, for it would seem too od
that I had choose to walk in rain, and my footman would suspect, and
perhaps spye. I shall walk along the step or terrace before the house in
the garden.’ {132a}
So difficult is it for an ambassador to dabble in treasonable intrigue,
especially when old, and when the weather is wet. Let us suppose that
Goring and the Earl met. Goring’s business was to ask if the Earl ‘has
leave to disclose the secret that was not in his power to do, last time
you saw him. I am ready to come myself, and meet him where he pleases.’
Meetings were difficult to arrange. We read, in the Prince’s hand:
_To Lord M. from Goring_.
‘18th Oct. 1751.
‘Saying he had received an express from the Prince with orders to
tell him [Lord M.] his place of residence, and making a suggestion of
meeting at Waters’s House.
‘Answer made 18th. Oct. by Lord M.
‘You may go to look for Lace as a Hamborough Merchant. I go as
recommended to a Lace Shop by Mr. Waters and shall be there as it
grows dark, for a pretence of staying some time in the house you may
also say you are recommended by Waters.
‘Mr Vignier Marchand de Doreure rue du Route, au Soleil D’or.
Paris.’
(_Overleaf_.)
‘18th Oct 1751.
‘I shall be glad to see you when you can find a fit place, but to
know where your friend is is necessary unfit. Would Waters’s house
be a good place? Would Md Talmont’s, mine is not, neither can I go
privately in a hackney coach, my own footman would dogg me, here
Stepan knows you well since Vienna.’ (Stepan was the Tartar valet.)
It is clear that Charles was now near Paris, and that the Ambassador of
Prussia was in communication with him. What did the English Government
know of this from their regular agents?
On October 9, Albemarle wrote from Paris that Charles was believed to
have visited the town. His ‘disguises make it very difficult’ to
discover him. Albemarle gives orders to stop a Dr. Kincade at Dover, and
seize his papers. He sends a list of traffickers between England and the
Prince, including Lochgarry, ‘formerly in the King’s service, and very
well known; _is now in Scotland_.’ ‘The Young Pretender has travelled
through Spain and Italy in the habit of a Dominican Fryar. He is
expected soon at Avignon. He was last at Berlin and Dantzich, and has
nobody with him but Mr. Goring.’ This valuable information is marked
‘Secret!’ {133a}
On October 10, Albemarle writes that Foley, a Jacobite, is much with the
Earl Marischal. On October 30, Dr. Kincaid had not yet set out. But
(December 1) Dr. Kincaid did start, and at Dover ‘was culled like a
flower.’ On St. Andrew’s Day (November 30) there was a Jacobite meeting
at St. Germains. Albemarle had a spy present, who was told by Sullivan,
the Prince’s Irish friend, that Charles was expected at St. Germains by
the New Year. The Earl Marischal would have kept St. Andrew’s Day with
them, but had to go to Versailles. Later we learn that no papers were
found on Dr. Kincaid. On January 5, 1752, Albemarle mentions
traffickings with Ireland. On August 4, 1752, Mann learns from a spy of
some consequence in Rome that the Prince is in Ireland. His household in
Avignon is broken up—which, by accident, is true. ‘Something is in
agitation’—valuable news!
The English Government, it is plain, was still in the dark. But matters
were going ill for Charles. In February 1752, Waters, respectfully but
firmly, declined to advance money. Charles dismissed in March all his
French servants at Avignon, and sold the coach in which Sheridan and
Strafford were wont to take the air. Madame de Talmond was still jealous
of Mademoiselle Luci. Money came in by mere driblets. ‘Alexander’
provided 300_l._, and ‘Dixon,’ in England, twice sends a humble ten
pounds. Charles transferred his quarters to the Netherlands, residing
chiefly at Ghent, where he was known as the Chevalier William Johnson.
The English Government remained unenlightened. The Duke of Newcastle, on
January 29, 1752, had ‘advice that the Pretender’s son is certainly in
Silesia,’ and requests Sir Charles Hanbury Williams to make inquiries.
{135}
On April 23, 1752, when Charles was establishing himself at Ghent, and
trying to raise loans in every direction, the egregious Sir Charles hears
that the Prince is in Lithuania, with the Radzivils. On April 27,
Williams, at Leipzig, is convinced of this, and again proposes to waylay
and seize the papers of a certain Bishop Lascaris, as he passes through
Austrian territory on his way to Rome. In Lithuania the Prince might
safely have been left. He could do the Elector of Hanover no harm
anywhere, except by such Fenian enterprises as that which Pickle was
presently to reveal. The anxious and always helpless curiosity of George
II. and his agents about the Prince seems especially absurd, when they
look in the ends of the earth for a man who is in the Netherlands.
At Ghent, May 1752, Charles to all appearances was much less busied with
political conspiracies than with efforts to raise the wind. Dormer, at
Antwerp, often protests against being drawn upon for money which he does
not possess, and Charles treated a certain sum of 200_l._ as if it were
the purse of Fortunatus, and inexhaustible. ‘Madame La Grandemain’
writes on May 5 that she cannot assist him, and _le Philosophe_
(Montesquieu), she says, is out of town. On May 12 the Prince partly
explains the cause of his need of money. He has taken, at Ghent, ‘a
preti house, and room in it to lodge a friend,’ and he invites Dormer to
be his guest. The house was near the Place de l’Empereur, in ‘La Rue des
Varnsopele’ (?). He asks Dormer to send ‘two keces of Books:’ indeed,
literature was his most respectable consolation. Old Waters had died,
and young Waters was requested to be careful of Charles’s portrait by La
Tour, of his ‘marble bousto’ by Lemoine, and of his ‘silver sheald.’ To
Madame La Grandemain he writes in a peremptory style: ‘Malgré toute votre
repugnance je vous ordonne d’éxecuter avec toutes les precautions
possibles ce dont je vous ai chargé.’ What was this commission? It
concerned ‘la demoiselle.’ ‘You must overcome your repugnance, and tell
a certain person [Goring] that I cannot see him, and that, if he wishes
to be in my good graces, he must show you the best and most efficacious
and rapid means of arriving at the end for which I sent him to you. I
hope that this letter will not find you in Paris.’
I have little doubt that the ‘repugnances’ of ‘Madame La Grandemain’ were
concerned with the bringing of Miss Walkinshaw to the Prince. The person
who is in danger of losing the Prince’s favour is clearly Goring,
figuring under the name of ‘Stouf,’ and, at this moment, with ‘Madame La
Grandemain’ in the country.
The facts about this Miss Walkinshaw, daughter of John Walkinshaw of
Barowfield, have long been obscure. We can now offer her own account of
her adventures, from the archives of the French Foreign Office. {137} In
1746 (according to a memoir presented to the French Court in 1774 by Miss
Walkinshaw’s daughter, Charlotte) the Prince first met Clementina
Walkinshaw at the house of her uncle, Sir Hugh Paterson, near
Bannockburn. The lady was then aged twenty: she was named after
Charles’s mother, and was a Catholic. The Prince conceived a passion for
her, and obtained from her a promise to follow him ‘wherever providence
might lead him, if he failed in his attempt.’ At a date not specified,
her uncle, ‘General Graeme,’ obtained for her a nomination as
_chanoinesse_ in a _chapitre noble_ of the Netherlands. But ‘Prince
Charles was then incognito in the Low Countries, and a person in his
confidence [Sullivan, tradition says] warmly urged Miss Walkinshaw to go
and join him, as she had promised, pointing out that in the dreadful
state of his affairs, nothing could better soothe his regrets than the
presence of the lady whom he most loved. Moved by her passion and her
promise given to a hero admired by all Europe, Miss Walkinshaw betook
herself to Douay. The Prince, at Ghent, heard news so interesting to his
heart, and bade her go to Paris, where he presently joined her. They
renewed their promises and returned to Ghent, where she took his name
[Johnson], was treated and regarded as his wife, later travelled with him
in Germany, and afterwards was domiciled with him at Liege, where she
bore a daughter, Charlotte, baptized on October 29, 1753.’ {138}
So runs the memoir presented to the French Court by the Prince’s
daughter, Charlotte, in 1774. Though no date is assigned, Miss
Walkinshaw certainly joined Charles in the summer of 1752. ‘Madame La
Grandemain’ and Goring were very properly indisposed to aid in bringing
the lady to Charles. The Prince this replies to the remonstrances of
Goring (‘Stouf’).
_To M. Stouf_.
‘June 6, 1752.
‘It is not surprising that I should not care to have one in my Family
that pretends to give me Laws in everything I do, you know how you
already threatened to quit me If I did not do your will and pleasure.
What is passed I shall forget, provided you continue to do yr. Duty,
so that there is nothing to be altered as to what was settled. Do
not go to Lisle, but stay at Coutray for my farther orders. As to ye
little man [an agent of Charles] he need never expect to see me
unless he executes ye Orders I gave him. I send you 50 Louisdors so
that you may give ye Frenchman what is necessary.
‘The little man’ is, probably, Beson, who was also recalcitrant. Goring
replies in the following very interesting letter. He considered his
errand unworthy of a man of honour.
_From Stouf_.
‘I did not apprehend the money you sent by Dormer was for me, but
thought, as you write in yours, to furnish the little man for the
journey to Cambray, and that very reasonably, for with what he had of
me he could not do it. On his refusing to go I sent it back. He
says he has done what lays in his power, as Sullivan’s letter
testifies, that his desires to serve you were sincere, for which you
abused him in a severe manner. Believe me, Sir, such commissions are
for the worst of men, and such you will find enough for money, but
they will likewise betray you for more. Virtue deserves reward and
you treat it ill, I can only lament this unfortunate affair, which if
possible to prevent, I would give my life with pleasure.
‘You say nothing is to be altered in regard to the plan. Pray Sir
reflect on Lady P. [Primrose] who will expect the little man. {139}
He was introduced to her, and told her name. What frights will she
and all friends be in, when they know you sent him away, for fear he
should come over [to England] and betray them! I assure you all
honest men will act as we have done, and should you propose to all
who will enter into yr. service to do such work, they will rather
lose their service than consent. Do you believe Sir that Lrd.
Marischal, Mr. Campbell, G. Kelly, and others would consent to do it?
Why should you think me less virtuous? My family is as ancient, my
honour as entire. . . . I from my heart am sorry you do not taste
these reasons, and must submit to my bad fortune . . . for as to my
going to Courtray nobody will know it, and if any accident should
happen to you by the young lady’s means [Miss Walkinshaw], I shall be
detested and become the horrour of Mankind, but if you are determined
to have her, let Mr. Sullivan bring her to you here, or any where
himself. The little man will carry your letter to him, as he has
done it already I suppose he wont refuse you.
‘You sent a message for the pistols yourself, and as you had not
given him the watch, he sent it, lest he should be accused of a
design to keep it. We have no other Messages to send, since you have
forbid us coming near you . . . for God’s sake Sir let me have an
audience of you; I can say more than I can write.’
[Picture: Miss Walkinshaw. From a miniature in the possession of Mrs.
Wedderburn Ogilvie, of Rannagulzion. (By permission of Messrs. Charles
Scribners’ Sons.)]
Thus, from the beginning, Charles’s friends foreboded danger in his
_liaison_. Miss Walkinshaw had a sister, ‘good Mrs. Catherine
Walkinshaw, the Princess dowager’s bed-chamber woman.’ Lady Louisa
Stuart knew her, and described to Scott ‘the portly figure with her long
lace ruffles, her gold snuff-box, and her double chin.’ {141} The
English Jacobites believed that Clementina was sent as a spy on Charles,
communicating with her sister in London. In fact, Pickle was the spy,
but Charles’s refusal to desert his mistress broke up the party, and
sealed his ruin. So much Goring had anticipated. The ‘Lady P.’ referred
to as ‘in a fright’ is Lady Primrose. An English note of May 1752
represents ‘Miss Fines’ as about to go to France, where ‘Lady P.’ or
‘Lady P. R.’ actually arrived in June. The Prince answered Goring thus:
_The Prince to Stouf in reply_.
‘I hereby order you to go to Lisle there to see a Certain person in
case she has something new to say, and Let her know that Everything
is to be as agreed on, except that, on reflection, I think it much
better not to send ye French man over, for that will avoid any
writing, and Macnamara can be sent, to whom one can say by word of
mouth many things further. As I told you already nothing is to be
chenged, on your Side, and you are to be anywhere in my Neiborod for
to be ready when wanted. . . . Make many kinde Compliments from me
to her and all her dear family.
‘Burn this after reading.’
Charles also wrote to ‘Lady P. R.’ in a conciliatory manner. Goring met
‘the Lady’ at Lens: she was indignant at the dismissal of ‘the little
Frenchman,’ merely because he was no Englishman. ‘It would be unjust to
refuse that name to one who had served you so faithfully.’ Goring was
still (June 18) ‘at Madame La Grandemain’s.’ ‘The Lady’ in this
correspondence may be Miss Walkinshaw or may be Lady Primrose, probably
the latter. Indeed, it is by no means absolutely certain that the errand
which Goring considered so dishonourable was connected with Miss
Walkinshaw alone. The Elibank plot must have been maturing, though no
light is thrown on it by the papers of the summer of 1752. Did Goring
regard that plot as ‘wicked,’ or did he object to escorting Miss
Walkinshaw?
There were clearly two difficulties. One concerned Miss Walkinshaw, the
other, Lady Primrose. She, as a Jacobite conspirator, had been used to
seeing ‘the little man,’ a Frenchman, whom Charles threatens to dismiss.
If dismissed, he would be dangerous. Charles’s hatred and distrust of
the French now extended to ‘the little man.’ It is barely conceivable
that Miss Walkinshaw had left England under Lady Primrose’s escort, of
course under the pretext of going to join her chapter of canonesses in
the Low Countries. If she announced, when once in France, her desire to
go to Charles as his mistress, Lady Primrose’s position would be most
painful, and Goring might well decline to convoy Miss Walkinshaw. But
the political and the amatory plot are here inextricably entangled. As
to the wickedness of the Elibank plot, if Goring hesitated over that,
Forsyth, in his ‘Letters from Italy,’ tells a curious tale accepted by
Lord Stanhope. Charles, on some occasion, went to England in disguise,
and was introduced into a room full of conspirators. They proposed some
such night attack on the palace as Murray’s, but Charles declined to be
concerned in it, unless the personal safety of George II. and his family
was guaranteed. Charles certainly always did discountenance schemes of
assassination; we shall see a later example. But, if Pickle does not
lie, in a letter to be cited later, Lord Elibank, a most reputable man,
saw no moral harm in his family plot. Was Goring more sensitive? All
this must be left to the judgment of the reader.
In October 1752 a very sad event occurred. ‘Madame La Grandemain’ had to
announce the death of her ‘sister:’ the Prince, in a note to a
pseudonymous correspondent, expresses his concern for ‘poor Mademoiselle
Luci.’ And so this girl, with her girlish mystery and romance, passes
into the darkness from which she had scarcely emerged, carrying our
regrets, for indeed she is the most sympathetic, of the women who, in
these melancholy years, helped or hindered Prince Charles. ‘As long as I
have a Bit of Bred,’ Charles writes to an unknown adherent, ‘you know
that I am always ready to shere it with a friend.’ In this generous
light we may fancy that Mademoiselle Luci regarded the homeless exile
whom Goring was obliged to reprove in such uncourtly strains.
Madame La Grandemain, writing on November 5, 1752, expresses her
inconsolable sorrow for her ‘sister’s’ death, and says that she has made
arrangements, as regards the Prince’s affairs, in case of her own
decease. The Prince, on _November_ 10, 1752, sends his condolences, and
this date is well worth remembering. For, according to Young Glengarry,
in a letter to James cited later, November 10 was either the day
appointed for the bursting of the Elibank plot, or was the day on which
the date of the explosion was settled. As to that plot, the papers of
Prince Charles contain no information. Documents so compromising, if
they ever existed, have been destroyed. {144}