X
Insertion in the Newspapers—Visit from M. Laurentie—His Letter and its Publication—His Advice—A Bold Venture—My Discretion—Insidious Answers—Behaviour of the Mills Family—Letters from my Children.
When I found that my troublesome dispute was coming to an end and that I was about to recover both my documents and my own full liberty, I had the following article inserted in several newspapers—
“In the year 1773, two illustrious French personages were travelling incognito in Italy, under the names of the Comte and Comtesse de Joinville. On the 16th of April of that same year the Comtesse gave birth to a daughter in the little town of Modigliana. The parents, urged by ambition, resolved to exchange their daughter for the son of a jailer, named Chiappini, whose wife at the same time gave birth to a boy, who has in consequence enjoyed the rank and fortune belonging to the other child. It has pleased Providence to allow this unjust usurpation to last for many years. But, to prove that justice, though sometimes slow, is always sure, it has lately permitted this unnatural action to be brought to light; the proofs were sufficient to convince any impartial mind, and a decisive decree of the Ecclesiastical Court of Faenza, given upon the most undoubted evidence, has pronounced as to the truth of the facts.
“The father, many years ago, met with a violent death; the mother survived him, but has now been eight years dead; and there is no doubt that the parents during their lifetime entrusted certain papers and documents to persons who were then in their confidence.
“It is needless to add that these documents are of the highest importance to the daughter who was deprived of her proper position. In the name of justice and humanity, she entreats any persons who may be in possession of documents concerning this matter, to send such information, in writing, to the Baronne de S., 18 Rue Vivienne, Paris.
“They may feel assured of a large reward from the person concerned.”
A few days later I had almost the same words again put in; at last, M. Mills having called a third time at the office of the Quotidienne, M. Laurentie said he would like to see me before the third insertion was made, alleging that he could be of much more use to me when he was perfectly acquainted with my affair.
I was urged to receive him, and I fixed a day for his coming.
The first thing he did on seeing me was to give a start of astonishment.
He told me that he had known at once that my paragraph related to the Duke of Orleans, and that, fearing his Highness’s anger, he wanted to see my papers before going further.
I at once got together some imperfect copies that had chanced to escape the insatiable Cooper’s greedy rapacity, and handed him the parcel.
He strongly advised me against any mysterious or partial publication of my story, but to bring it to the full light of day.
I told him that such was my intention.
“You will do well,” he said; “and I assure you your likeness to Louis XIV is so striking that only to see you is to be convinced.”
It would not be easy to describe my surprise when, three days later, I received my packet, accompanied, for all apology, by the following brief communication—
“Madame la Baronne,
“I have the honour of returning you the papers you committed to my care.
“I have had an opportunity of tracing the truth to its source, and have ascertained that M. le Duc and Mme. la Duchesse d’Orléans did not quit Paris or the Court in the year 1773.”[16]
“Therefore I cannot permit the Quotidienne to print a single line concerning the extraordinary and mysterious event spoken of in these papers.
“I have the honour to be, Madame la Baronne,
“Your very humble and obedient servant,
“Laurentie.”
To astonishment succeeded just indignation when in the numbers for the 2nd and 3rd of November I read what follows—
“The public may have remarked, some time ago, a notice in the Quotidienne in which there was mention of a Comte and Comtesse de Joinville, who, in 1773, when in Italy, had a child of the female sex for which a male child was substituted, and information was asked as to this mysterious substitution.
“Whatever may have been the purpose of the person who sent us this notice, it is our duty to declare that we take no responsibility for it.
“We have even been able to ascertain that its publication masks an intrigue in which we could not be expected to meddle, and we retract the notice sent to our office, and which, at first sight, might seem to be simply an announcement relating to family matters.”
At first I wanted to force the audacious editor to insert in his journal an answer which would have let every one know of his criminal abuse of confidence, and ask him how he dared brand with the odious name of intrigue a claim which, from my papers so trustfully given over to him, he knew to be based on the depositions of numerous witnesses, and on an episcopal judgment given with the most imposing formalities.
But on consideration I decided that my complete Memoirs being about to appear, France and the whole of Europe would do me enough justice after reading them.
I wanted some one to correct the many mistakes which my pen, so unskilled in the French language, had made without taking from my story its original simplicity.
M. Lafont d’Aussonne, author of the Mémoires universels de la Reine de France, called on me, discoursed on his literary talents, offered me his services, and succeeded in getting me to give him a copy of my notes. Here is his letter of the next day—
“Madame,
“I have spent part of the night in reading your papers. I find them convincing, and am astonished only at one thing—that you have been so long in attacking the unlawful possessor. I shall have the honour of seeing you this evening at the same hour as yesterday.
“Your very respectful and devoted servant,
“Lafont d’Aussonne.”
I was much pleased with his way of looking at it, and with all the arguments with which he supported my interesting affair; but with a swift change of front he wrote to me a few days later—
“However long the time I have devoted to the papers you committed to me, madame, I grudge neither the time nor the work if I may keep your confidence and your esteem. From things I know of and approaching events, I am convinced that your cause has its dangers, and that you must be prepared for oppositions, humiliations, delays and troubles innumerable.
“Your last years will be years of grief and affliction; I am not exaggerating.
“An opportunity is now offered me of rendering you the greatest of services by giving you rest and peace of mind.
“You are a good wife and tender mother; you might, at the same time, give delight to your family and to the excellent persons who have given such proof of their constancy and their devotion by combining with you.
“As for myself, madame, I have no thought but to repeat the assurance of my respectful and sincere devotion.
“Lafont d’Aussonne.”
At once I saw through the plot, and wishing to find out what offers would be made me, I replied in such a fashion as to let it be believed that I was quite willing to make concessions.
MARIA STELLA, LADY NEWBOROUGH, BARONNE DE STERNBERG
My friend fell into the trap, loudly applauded my quite futile letter and sent me a curious composition, of which M. d’Aussonne declared he had secretly sent a copy to my adversary.
“Monseigneur,
“As M. de Broval’s illness or sufferings may last some long time, I take the respectful liberty of addressing you directly.
“I have not forgotten that, five years ago, your Royal Highness did me the honour to send for me to your gallery that I might give my opinion on some wrongly-named or doubtful portraits, and that you received me with marked affability.
“Something has now happened, monseigneur, which, in a fashion, brings me again to your notice.
“Lady Newborough, Baronne de Sternberg, having read with great interest at Nice, where she was then living, my Mémoires universels de la Reine de France, wished to know its author; and this lady, pleased with my eagerness, has entrusted me with the revision of her own Memoirs written entirely in her own hand, that I may put them into shape and give them a literary style.
“Devoted as my whole life has been to the defence of the greatly unfortunate, I did not hesitate to accept this commission; and I think I have made some improvements in a book good society seems to me to be eagerly expecting, here and elsewhere.
“With my mind full of the strange details contained in these Memoirs, I cannot help looking upon the prodigious noise such revelations will make in the world as a great political event; and I ask myself if I should not be doing a good action in endeavouring to find some means for bringing about conciliation and peace.
“There is no room for doubt, monseigneur, that milady, by the advice of her lawyers, will find herself obliged to prove, by numberless traits, character and conduct that the inhuman father, by whom she was forsaken, made the criminal exchange for his own immoral ends. After this, we shall see this father, already so notorious, handed over to the judgment of all Europe. As to the gist of the principal question, monseigneur, you must already know everything. You know of Lorenzo Chiappini’s clear statement, made but a few moments before his death; you know of the numerous depositions of so many candid and unexceptionable witnesses; you know of the solemn decree of the august Tribunal which restored to Maria Stella her original position, and as a consequence, her rights.
“From the moment that striking judgment was pronounced, milady was enabled fearlessly to sign herself née de Joinville; and we have no other Joinvilles but the Princes of the House of Orleans.
“The documents obtained in Italy are already very considerable; those discovered in France are not less so; and the two journeys in Italy are proved.
“To these remarkable details I beg your Highness to be pleased to add the following facts.
“Milady’s profile is extraordinarily like that of Madame la Dauphine; seen at three-quarters her face is the image of that of Mademoiselle d’Orléans, etc. Lord Newborough, her eldest son, bears so strong a resemblance to Louis XIV, and her second son, M. Chevalier Wins (sic) to the late Comte de Beaujolais, that the artists are amazed.
“And now, monseigneur, I will add, by your gracious permission, a fact which is as extraordinary and seems miraculous; the two brothers Chiappini, each the image of his father, have the honour of resembling you. The inhabitants of Florence and Modigliana are all agreed on this point.
“I have given you but a short summary of this important affair, known to no one better than to myself since I have had everything under my own eyes.
“My great respect for the name of Bourbon leads me to hope that confidential matter of this kind may not be told in the market-place, to become the fable or the romance of all parties. With all my heart I desire that the life of our beloved Duc de Bordeaux may be spared; but if, by a stroke of fate, that fragile olive-branch were snatched from France, the Salic Law would call your children to the throne, and it might be painful, perhaps dangerous, for them not to have public opinion with them.
“You anticipate, monseigneur, what would be my respectful advice, and I beg you to see in my action no motives but those dictated by kindness, wisdom and prudence.
“The excellent milady, who admires my works, has favoured their author with her partial confidence; but I have the honour of writing to you without her knowledge.
“I wish to help her to the ease of mind so astounding a trial could not fail to destroy; and, if you have sufficient trust in me to accept me as intermediary, I feel a secret presentiment that I shall be able to induce her to make peace.
“I am a daily witness of her respect and admiration for Louis XIV, Henri IV, etc., whom she looks upon as her ancestors; but I know, too, that she adores her beloved Edward, her youngest son, from whom she has been cruelly separated; and by this very natural way I think I may reach her heart.
“If so, I shall rejoice at having restored her to life and peace, and to have spared you, monseigneur, an unpleasant dispute through which your children, sooner or later, must have suffered.
“Allow me with the greatest respect to sign myself your Royal Highness’s very humble and obedient servant,
“Lafont d’Aussonne.”
All this inspired me with invincible dread of a man who, like so many others, thus played me false. To escape his snares I began by politely refusing to see him; then, under various pretexts, I asked him to send back my books and papers, and tried to make him understand my very natural apprehensions. His letters will prove the accuracy of my statements—
1st. “Madame, I have the honour to return you the books relating to the great affair. I will also collect the papers you ask for and this evening you shall receive them in a sealed parcel. I like to take back such important things myself.
“For God’s sake don’t allow yourself to have any doubt of me or my doings. I am doing what is for the best, and for your sole and veritable benefit.
“If I asked to see you for a moment, it was to tell you of a most important matter which has to do with what you were told in Italy—that a French ecclesiastic knew a great secret concerning all this.
“While I write to you, a person in my confidence is taking the necessary steps for discovering what the Duke wishes to do as to the matter about which I wrote to him.
“Rest assured, milady, that God decreed your acquaintance with me, and that you will never find another with a heart so good and large as mine, or so noble a probity.
“But your misfortunes have naturally made you timid and suspicious, and you may feel quite certain that I am too reasonable to take offence. Your most respectful and devoted servant,” etc.
2nd.—“Madame, What I told you in my letter of yesterday rests on the evidence of two persons, of whom one, aged and infirm, and of a timid and nervous disposition, has told me what she knows, and by her explanations has enabled me to explain to myself things which formerly did not sufficiently influence me, for I was the best friend and vindicator of him who knew all.
“The other person, who is still alive, will play no part whatever in all this, so greatly does she dread the vengeance of the Duke of Orleans.
“But I, who do not fear him, promise you that, if we go on acting in unison, I will state and proclaim everything.
“How could you, madame, suppose for one moment that my actions concealed any plot—actions as clear as day?
“After making a thorough examination of your case, I perceived many probabilities, but, unfortunately, not enough proofs; and that is why, as an honourable and kindly man, I advised you to consent to a compromise, supposing your wealthy adversary able to make up his mind to a sacrifice.
“In this way you would have gained an increase of fortune to the benefit of your son, while the Prince, real or supposed, would have retained the votes and the respect of the common people which your Memoirs and the noise of the trial must inevitably have lost for him.
“No, milady, Mme. Fleury and I have not joined in any plot against you; since that wicked Irishwoman wanted the Duke to crush you by his power without giving you anything out of his riches; while what I desire is that if he and you come to some arrangement, he shall make over to you a considerable sum.
“The letter I sent him is surely proof enough of that.
“Is that letter, wherein I made such outspoken and humiliating statements, nothing in your eyes? Is that possible? And what can I do, Madame, to prove to you my sincerity and integrity?
“Oh! what a lesson for me!
“I must end here a letter I did not think to make so long.
“I have served you zealously, milady; and I don’t regret it, for I believe your cause to be a just one in the sight of God and of nature.
“I withdraw without resentment, although I am much hurt by the insult offered to me.
“If the Duke comes to know what has taken place, he will be much rejoiced, for he dreads my pen and the strength of my writings.
“With all respect, madame,” etc.
In spite of all these protestations, he could not win back my confidence, and I would have nothing more to do with him.
Mills’s sister-in-law was still with me; but for the last few days I had noticed a complete change in her for which I could not account and which she would explain to me only by pleading indisposition.
One morning her younger sister made her appearance and told me she wished to take her sister back with her to stay while the carnival lasted, as while she was with me she had no chance of enjoying the entertainments connected with it.
Glad of this opportunity, I replied at once—
“With pleasure; I should be very sorry to put her out. Let her stay at home as long as she likes.”
The two ungrateful creatures went off at once to collect the munificent gifts I had made them, packed up their parcels, and, from that moment, never once took the trouble to inquire after me.
I saw at last—but too late—what sort of family this was, and to what a set of people I had so generously given myself over.
It was only with the greatest difficulty that I managed to get a statement of my accounts, and when I did receive it, I found myself finely tricked!
For a few private consultations of no importance, and a few drives about Paris, the considerate lawyer was content with asking me the bagatelle of 6000 francs; inadvertently indebted me with £300 sterling, and exacted the rigorous payment to him of interest for which he had promised I should not be liable!
I held my tongue, hoping he would not force me to divulge what I knew of myself or had heard spoken of.
My eldest son had known him better than I did; he wrote later to me from Marseilles that he had always had strong suspicions about him and had never ceased to look upon him as a professional humbug.
This letter from the young Lord Newborough, as well as showing the great affection he had for me, gave me besides two strong grounds for consolation in the midst of my trouble, by assuring me of the restoration of his own health and of his undying attachment to my dear Edward.… I knew that for some time he had been suffering from a weak lung, and remembering his antecedents, I had felt grave fears; on the other hand, the future of my third son was a source of painful anxiety to me.
But his kind brother did away with all my troubles on both matters by telling me that the mild climate of southern Europe had quite restored his strength, and by asking me to tell Edward that he could henceforth look upon Glynllifon Castle as his own house.
Could anything be sweeter to the heart of a loving mother? And it was not the only sign of filial love that came to ease my mind. The youngest of my children never failed from time to time to send me the expression of his ardent love for me. This is one of his recent letters—
“I am delighted to see that our great affair is beginning to get cleared up and looks so well. I wish with all my heart that it may go in our favour, and that you may at last be able to enjoy some compensation for the vicissitudes and cares and worries which you have had to bear for the last seven or eight years.
“Believe me, my dear mother, my most earnest prayer is that I may see you win the victory in a trial you have so much at heart and which so nearly concerns our family and your name, etc.”