Undeterred by this failure, no long time elapsed before another pretender started up, to supply the place of the tiler’s son. This was Gonçalo Alvarez, the son of a mason. His first act of royal power was to give the title of Earl of Torres Novas to Pedro Alonso, a rich yeoman, whose daughter he intended to marry. He succeeded in raising a body of eight hundred men, and it was not until some blood had been shed that he could be put down. He was hanged and quartered at Lisbon, with his newly-created earl.
In spite of these examples, several new Sebastians arose. Only one of them, however, deserves mention; but this one, if an impostor, was at least an extraordinary character. It was at Venice that he made his first appearance, about twenty years after the battle of Alcaçar. Of the manner in which he escaped from the slaughter, and of all his subsequent wanderings, he gave a minute and seemingly well-connected account. The Venetian senate, on complaint being made to it, ordered him to depart. He sought a refuge at Padua, but, being expelled from that city by the governor, he returned to Venice. The Spanish ambassador now called loudly for the arrest of the supposed Sebastian. He accused him not only of imposture, but also of many atrocious crimes. The wanderer was in consequence seized, and thrown into prison. The ordeal to which he was subjected was no slight one. He underwent twenty-eight examinations before a committee of nobles; and he is said to have fully cleared himself of all the crimes attributed to him, and even to have given so accurate a statement of the former transactions between himself and the republic as to excite the wonder of his hearers. His apparent firmness, piety, and patience, also gained him many friends.
The senate refused to examine the charge of imposture, unless some allied prince or state would request such an investigation. The request was made, and a solemn inquiry was instituted. No decision, however, followed; all that was done was to order the asserted Sebastian to quit the Venetian territories in three days. He bent his course to Florence, where he was arrested by order of the Grand Duke, who delivered him up to the Count de Lemos, the viceroy of Naples. The count died some time after; and his successor appears to have forgotten the claimant to the Portuguese throne, who, for several years, suffered the severest hardships, as a prisoner in the castle of del’ Ovo. It is probable that attention was at length called to him by attempts to excite, at Lisbon, an insurrection in his behalf. Be this as it may, he was brought out of his dungeon, led disgracefully through the city, and proclaimed to be an impostor. On this occasion, he did not belie his pretensions, nor display any want of courage. Whenever the public officer exclaimed, “this is the man who calls himself Sebastian,” he calmly said, “and Sebastian I am.” When the same individual declared him to be a Calabrian, he exclaimed, “it is false.” When the exposure of him was over, he was shipped as a galley slave; he was next imprisoned at St. Lucar; and was subsequently removed to a castle in Castile. From that moment his fate is buried in oblivion.
In Russia, the seductive hope of ascending a throne has tempted various individuals to simulate deceased princes, and to stake life on “the hazard of the die,” for the chance of obtaining their object. One only, with more ability and better fortune than the rest, succeeded in grasping for a short time the prize. On the death of Feodor, son of Ivan the Terrible, the throne was occupied by Boris Godunoff, who had contrived to procure the murder of Demitri, or Demetrius, the younger brother of Feodor. For a while Boris governed wisely, and acquired much popularity with the multitude; but it was not long before the nobles began to plot against him; the affections of the populace were alienated, and universal confusion ensued. This state of affairs was favourable to imposture, and an individual soon appeared who had talents to turn it to his advantage. There was a monk named Otrefief, who bore an almost miraculous likeness to the murdered Demetrius. He was also possessed of qualities well calculated to win the suffrage of the crowd; for his figure was fine, his manners prepossessing, and his eloquence forcible.
Relying on his personal likeness to the deceased prince, the love which the people cherished for the old royal stock, and the hatred to which they had been roused against Boris, the hardy adventurer spread abroad a report that he was Ivan, who had been saved from the assassins, by the substitution of another youth in his place. Leaving this to work in the minds of the Russians, he withdrew into Poland, where his arts, his eloquence, and his promises, soon gained for him numerous allies. Sendomir, a wealthy and powerful Boyard, promised him his daughter in marriage whenever he should become czar; and, through the influence of Sendomir, the support of the king of Poland was obtained. Boris denounced him, in proclamations, as an impostor, and sent spies to seize and put him to death; but both were unavailing. The false Demetrius advanced into Russia, in 1604, at the head of a small army of Cossacks and Poles. Boris despatched a much larger force to meet him, and a desperate battle ensued. The spirit-stirring language of the pretender to his troops, and his own signal intrepidity, turned the scale of victory in his favour. Numbers immediately espoused his cause; Boris every day found his subjects and his troops deserting him; and at length he poisoned himself in despair. The victor entered Moscow, and was crowned there.
Demetrius began his reign in a manner which seemed to promise that it would be lasting. He was prudent, just, amiable, and accessible even to his poorest subjects. But the possession of power seems to have exercised on him its usual intoxicating influence. His virtues vanished, and he began to excite disgust. But the circumstances which most contributed to alienate from him the Russians were his impolitic lavishing of honours upon the Poles, and his equally impolitic contempt of the national religion. These were two inexpiable offences in the eyes of those whom he governed. A conspiracy was formed against him by Prince Schnisky, the palace of the pseudo Demetrius was stormed, and he perished by the weapons of the revolters.
Several other Demetriuses subsequently started up. The first of these was a Polish schoolmaster, who, with the help of the Poles, obtained possession of Moscow; but he soon sunk into obscurity. The rest were still less lucky; some of them perished on the gibbet. The last of the species appeared in 1616, and pretended to be the son of Demetrius. He was seized and strangled, and with him terminated all attempts to personate a prince of the race of Ivan the Terrible.
A century and a half elapsed before another adventurer of this kind was seen in Russia. His name was Pugatscheff, and he was a coarse and ferocious specimen of impostor princes. He was a Don Cossack, and had served against the Prussians and Turks. A trifling circumstance was the cause of his aspiring to a throne. He was sent with a despatch to a general, whom he found surrounded by his staff officers. On seeing Pugatscheff, all the officers at once expressed their surprise at the striking likeness which he bore to the murdered Emperor Peter.
This was sufficient to awaken ambition in his mind. He deserted, and took refuge in Poland, where he spent some time in acquiring the information which was requisite for carrying his plan into effect. He then entered Russia, spread his forged tale among the Cossacks, and at length collected sufficient followers to enable him to take the field. He began his operations in 1773, by seizing some fortresses in the government of Orenbourg, swelled his numbers exceedingly, baffled the government forces, and, it is thought, might have made himself master of Moscow had he pushed boldly forward. Count Panin having brought together a considerable army, succeeded in driving him beyond the Ural mountains; but, in spite of every effort that was made against him, he contrived to keep up a harassing warfare for more than twelve months. It is probable that he might have held out longer had he not disgusted even his partisans by his acts of wanton and brutal cruelty. This, and the temptation offered by a reward of a hundred thousand roubles, induced some of his followers to betray him. He was carried to Moscow in an iron cage, and was executed there in January, 1775.
France, within the last fifty years, has had no less than three or four false dauphins; one of whom, of very recent date, was a German watchmaker. The most conspicuous of them were, however, Jean Marie Hervegault, and Maturin Bruneau. The former of these was the son of a tailor, at St. Lo. The strong resemblance of his features to those of Louis XVI. was doubtless that which inspired him with the hope of passing for the son of that monarch. He had a good address, much art, and a large stock of impudence, and succeeded in making numerous proselytes, even among people of education and fortune. He was several times imprisoned, but his blind admirers still persisted in paying him royal honours. He died in the Bicêtre in 1812. His successor, Maturin Bruneau, had neither equal skill nor equal success with Hervegault, yet he found a considerable number of credulous dupes. His career was stopped in 1818, by a sentence of seven years’ imprisonment, two years of which were imposed for his daring insolence to the court by which he was tried.