The conduct of the Princess Louisa, the reputed mother of the child, was equally strange. When she left her old debauched husband, she found consolation in the friendship and intimacy of the poet Alfieri, who at his death left her his whole property. Cardinal York settled a handsome income upon her, and her second lover—a Frenchman, named Fabre—added to her store. She survived till 1824, when her alleged son must have been in his fifty-first year; yet at her death all her property, including the seal and the portrait of Prince Charles Edward, were left to her French admirer, and were by him bequeathed to an Italian sculptor.
Cardinal York, also, betrayed no knowledge that his brother ever had had a son. When Prince Charles Edward died the cardinal adopted all the form and etiquette usual in the residence of a monarch, and insisted upon its observance by his visitors, as well as by his own attendants. He published protests asserting his right to the British crown, and caused medals to be struck bearing his effigy, and an inscription wherein he is styled Henry the Ninth, King of Great Britain and Ireland, Defender of the Faith, &c., &c. This he neither could nor would have done had he been aware of the existence of his brother's son, who had a prior claim to his own. Moreover, when the Princess Louisa left her husband, he exerted himself to the utmost of his ability to serve her; carried her to Rome; and succeeded in procuring for her a suitable establishment from his brother. Surely, in return for his great services, she would have informed him of the existence of her son, if any such son had ever been born! When the pretender's health began to give way Cardinal York was among the first to hasten to his assistance, and, discarding all previous disagreements, renewed his friendship with him, and persuaded him to make his home in Rome for the last two years of his life. Yet Prince Charles in his old age, and with death before his eyes, never revealed the secret of St. Rosalie to his brother, but permitted him to assume a title to which he had not the shadow of a claim. In his will also, Cardinal York betrays his ignorance of any heir of his brother, and bequeaths his possessions to the missionary funds of the Romish Church. Dr. Beaton alone seems to have been worthy of trust.
As far as Admiral Allen is concerned, it is not only unproven that he was a Tory or a Jacobite, but it is almost certainly shown that he was a Whig, and would have been a very unlikely person to be entrusted either with the secrets, or the heir, of Prince Charlie. Had Charles Edward been in a situation to confide so delicate a trust to any one, it is impossible to conceive that he would have selected any other than one of his staunchest adherents; yet John and Charles Hay Allen ask the public to believe that the charge was entrusted to one whose political relations seem to have been with the opposite party. They declare that the "Red Eagle" was aware of his real parentage prior to 1790; yet in the notice of Thomas Allen's marriage, which occurred two years later, he is expressly described as the son of Admiral Allen, and in the admiral's will he is distinctly mentioned as his son. As the reviewer, who has been quoted so freely, remarks: "What conceivable motive could induce the officer entrusted by Charles Edward with the care of the only hope of the House of Stuart to leave in his will, and that will, too, executed in the year of his death, a flat denial of the royal birth of his illustrious ward? The fact is utterly irreconcilable with the existence of such a secret, and appears absolutely conclusive. There was no occasion for the admiral stating in his will whose son Thomas Allen was. He might have left him £100 without any allusion to his parentage; but when he deliberately, and, as lawyers say, in intuitu mortis, assures us that this gentleman, the father of those who assume names so directly indicative of royal pretensions, was his own son, we are inclined to give him credit for a clearer knowledge of the truth than any now alive can possess."
Such is the story, and such is its refutation. It has had many believers and many critics. That it was advanced in earnest there can be no doubt, and the pretenders were well known in London circles. The elder of them, "John Sobieski Stuart," died in February 1872; but before his decease solemnly appointed his successor, and passed his supposed royal birthright to a younger member of the same family—a birthright which is worthless and vain.
JOHN HATFIELD—THE SHAM HONOURABLE ALEXANDER HOPE.
In the latter half of last century a farmer in one of the northern counties had in his house a very pretty girl, who passed as his daughter, and who supposed that he was her father. The damsel was industrious and virtuous as well as beautiful, and as she grew to maturity had many applicants for her hand. At last, as it became apparent that she would not long remain disengaged or single, her reputed father explained to her that she was not his daughter, but was an illegitimate child of Lord Robert Manners, who had all along paid for her support, and who was disposed to grant her a wedding portion of £1000, provided she married with his sanction. The news soon spread, and the rustic beauty became a greater toast than ever when it was known that she was also an heiress. Among others who heard of her sudden accession to fortune was a young fellow called John Hatfield, then employed as a traveller by a neighbouring linen-draper. He lost no time in paying his respects at the farm-house, or in enrolling himself in the number of her suitors, and succeeded so well that he not only gained the affections of the girl, but also the goodwill of the farmer, who wrote to Lord Robert Manners, informing him that Hatfield held a good position and had considerable expectations, and that he was anxious to marry his daughter, but would only do so on condition that her relatives approved of the union. Thereupon his lordship sent for the lover, and, believing his representations to be true, gave his consent at the first interview, and on the day after the marriage presented the bridegroom with £1500.
The fellow was in reality a great scamp. A short time after he got the money he set out for London, purchased a carriage, frequented the most famous coffee-houses, and represented himself to be a near relation of the Rutland family, and the possessor of large estates in Yorkshire. The marriage portion was soon exhausted, and when he had borrowed from every person who would lend him money he disappeared from the fashionable world as abruptly as he had entered it. Little was heard of his movements for several years, when he suddenly turned up again as boastful, if not as resplendent, as ever. By this time his wife had borne three daughters to him; but he regarded both her and them as hateful encumbrances, and deserted them, leaving them to be supported by the precarious charity of her relations. The poor woman did not long survive his ill-usage and neglect, and died in 1782. Hatfield himself found great difficulty in raising money, and was, at last, thrown into the King's Bench prison for a debt of £160. Here he was very miserable, and was in such absolute destitution that he excited the pity of some of his former associates and victims who had retained sufficient to pay their jail expenses, and they often invited him to dinner and supplied him with food. He never lost his assurance; and, although he was perfectly well aware that his real character was known, still continued to boast of his kennels, of his Yorkshire park, and of his estate in Rutlandshire, which he asserted was settled upon his wife; and usually wound up his complaint by observing how annoying it was that a gentleman who at that very time had thirty men engaged in beautifying his Yorkshire property should be locked up in a filthy jail, by a miserable tradesman, for a paltry debt.
Among others to whom he told this cock-and-bull story was a clergyman who came to the prison to visit Valentine Morris, the ex-governor of St. Vincent, who was then one of the inmates; and he succeeded in persuading the unsuspecting divine to visit the Duke of Rutland, and lay his case before him as that of a near relative. Of course the duke repudiated all connection with him, and all recollection of him; but a day or two later, when he remembered that he was the man who had married the natural daughter of Lord Robert Manners, he sent £200 and had him released.