The art of counterfeiting old deeds and manuscripts has often been had recourse to for the purpose of fraud. Some curious evidence of such practices was given in the case of “Mossam v. Dame Theodosia Joy,” which may be found at large in the State Trials, vol. 7, p. 571. This lady was proved to have forged the title deeds of an estate to which she laid claim. Serjeant Stringer, in the course of the trial, inquired of Mrs. Duffet, one of the witnesses, “Pray what did they do to the deeds to make them look like ancient true deeds?” The witness replied, “For the making of the outsides look old and dirty, they used to rub them on the windows that were very dusty, and wear them in the pockets, to crease them, for weeks together. According as they intended to make use of them, when they had been rubbed and made to look dirty, and they were to pass for deeds of many years’ standing, it was used to lay them in a balcony, or any open place, for the rain to wet them, and the next clear day they were exposed to the sun, or placed before the fire, to dry them hastily, that they might be shrivelled.”
The introduction of the Inquisition into Portugal, has been stated to have resulted from the admirable skill in counterfeiting signatures, which was possessed by a monk named Saavedra. About the year 1540, this monk forged apostolic bulls, royal decrees, and bills of exchange, with so much accuracy that they passed for genuine. He also succeeded so well as to pass himself off for a knight, commander of the military order of St. Jago, the income of which amounted to three hundred ducats, which he received for a year and a half. In a short time he acquired, by means of the royal deeds which he counterfeited, three hundred and sixty thousand ducats. He might have remained undetected through life, had not his successes tempted him to undertake a still more hazardous fraud, which led to his detection; falling in with a Jesuit travelling to Portugal, with an apostolical brief for the foundation of a Jesuit’s College, he concerted a plan for introducing the Inquisition. Saavedra forged letters from Charles V. to the King of Portugal, and a papal bull for establishing the Inquisition there. This bull appointed Saavedra legate. Following up his deception, he assumed the character of a Roman cardinal, and made a visit to Portugal. The king despatched a distinguished nobleman to receive him. Saavedra spent three months at Lisbon, after which he travelled through the kingdom; but he was at last detected by the Inquisitor-General of Spain, and was sentenced to the galleys for ten years.
The eighteenth century was closed with a literary fraud, concocted in Germany, to which circumstances gave a temporary success. So little is known of the interior of Africa, that any thing which seems likely to add to our knowledge upon this subject can hardly fail to excite attention. Public curiosity was, therefore raised to the highest pitch, when a work was announced, with the captivating title of “Travels in the Interior of Africa, from the Cape of Good Hope to Morocco, from the years 1781 to 1797; by Christian Frederick Damberger.” Translations of a work which promised to remove the veil, that had so long covered central Africa, were immediately undertaken in England and in France; and each translator laboured indefatigably, in the fear of the market being forestalled by his rival. The delusion, however, was quickly dispelled; the work being discovered to be the manufacture of a printer of Wittemberg, by name Zachary Taurinius, who had before tried his skill in forging a Voyage to the East Indies, Egypt, &c., and a Voyage and Journey to Asia, Africa and America.
A literary imposition similar to that which was practised in England by Chatterton, was effected in France, in 1804. A small volume was published, at Paris, edited by M. Vanderbourg, and professing to be the “Poems of Margaret Eleanor Clotilda de Vallon-Chalys”, afterwards Madame de Surville, a French poetess of the fifteenth century. They were said to have been discovered, in 1782, among the dusty archives of his family, by a M. de Surville, a descendant of the fair authoress, who had a transcript of them made. The originals were unfortunately destroyed by fire, and M. de Surville lost his life during the French revolution, but the copy of the poems was saved, and, with much difficulty, was procured by the editor. Madame de Surville is represented as having displayed singularly precocious abilities; to have been married in 1421; and to have lived at least to the age of ninety, exercising her poetical talent to the last. Serious doubts as to the truth of this story are entertained by the literary men of France. But, though the authenticity of these compositions may be disputed, there can be no dispute respecting their merit. There is a grace, sweetness, and spirit, in them which are exceedingly delightful. From the following translation of the supposed Madame de Surville’s “Verses to My First Born,” which appeared in an early number of the New Monthly Magazine, some idea may be formed of her poetical talents:
My cherished infant! image of thy sire!
Sleep on the bosom which thy small lip presses!
Sleep little one, and close those eyes of fire,
Those eyelets which the weight of sleep oppresses.
Sweet friend! dear little one! may slumbers lend thee
Delights which I must never more enjoy!