[1] They were discovered by Dr. D. Schönherr, the keeper of the imperial archives at Innsbruck, to whom the writer is indebted for drawing his attention to this interesting discovery. The private imperial archives at Vienna, examined by the writer, yielded also interesting documents.
It will be remembered that after the failure of his Scotch expedition of 1715 the Pretender—or, as he was then commonly styled, the Chevalier de St. George—was obliged to quit France and Germany and retire to Italy, where the misfortunes of his family, proceeding in part from its devotion to the Roman Catholic Church, gave him the best right to expect a hospitable reception. Here he opened a negotiation with Prince James Sobiesky which had for its object his marriage with Princess Clementina, Sobiesky's daughter. Sobiesky was the son of John, king of Poland, the heroic deliverer of Vienna and Christendom from the Turks. This unfortunate prince, having signally failed in his repeated attempts to instal himself upon the Polish throne, vacated by his father's death, had retired to Ohlau, a large estate near Breslau in Silesia belonging to the emperor Charles VI., and with which the latter had invested him.
The negotiations carried on between the two parties ended in the formal betrothal of the Princess Clementina to James III., king of Great Britain and Ireland, as the Pretender styled himself.
Meanwhile, the English government had exhibited great solicitude to frustrate the Pretender's intention of strengthening his cause by contracting a marriage likely to yield an heir to his pretensions to the crown of Great Britain. The Pretender and Sobiesky were both perfectly well aware of this, and hence Sobiesky's anxiety that the union should be completed as soon as possible. Through the vacillating character of the bridegroom valuable time was lost at the last moment, and before the project could be carried out the petty court at Ohlau was surrounded by English spies. We know that in August, 1718, the English government was acquainted with the whole plot, and was using to the utmost the influence which its friendly relationship with the emperor of Germany gave it. A prohibition was obtained from him forbidding all further intercourse between the Pretender and Sobiesky, whose wife, it should be mentioned, was the emperor's aunt.
Sobiesky vainly expostulated with his imperial kinsman. He reminded him that although he was then residing within the frontiers of the empire, he was nevertheless an independent prince; and he begged him to consider that his conduct was unworthy of their close relationship and incompatible with every feeling of gratitude toward the memory of his father, the brave deliverer of Vienna and of Christendom. Charles, who had at this time very good reasons for wishing to keep on a good footing with England, not only turned a deaf ear to the expostulations of Prince Sobiesky, but actually threatened him with his highest displeasure if he did not sever his connection with that "worthless vagabond princeling." Sobiesky, convinced that nothing was to be gained by delay, and quite prepared to sacrifice the favor of his mighty kinsman for the sake of compassing his object, determined to send his daughter to Italy to join her betrothed, with a view to the consummation of the marriage.
In the latter half of September, 1718, Princess Clementina and her mother, accompanied by a suite consisting of a lady-in-waiting, a confidential maid, Monsieur Châteaudoux, a gentleman of the household, with his servant, and Monsieur la Haye,[2] gentleman-in-waiting of the Pretender, left Ohlau for Innsbruck en route for Italy. Secret as the preparations for the journey had been kept, they had not escaped the notice of the English agent at Breslau; and a few hours after the departure of the princess and her party an English and a German courier left that town—the one for London, the other for Warsaw. In a remarkably short time the former had accomplished his journey, and was back again in Vienna, the bearer of an autograph letter from the king, George I., to the emperor Charles. The immediate upshot was a despatch sent off in hot haste to the provincial government of Tyrol, ordering that body to stop the princely party wherever they could lay hands on them, "be it in Innsbruck or any other part of our empire."
[2] A member, no doubt, of the noble Scotch family of Hay, so famous for its devotion to the Jacobite cause.
The twelve privy councillors who constituted the government of Tyrol were "sorely perplexed and harassed by this order;" for it appears that so little time had been lost by the courier on his way to and from London that the order actually reached Innsbruck two days before the arrival of the party, who, as we must presume, accomplished their journey from Breslau to Augsburg, and from thence to Innsbruck, by very easy stages. The first despatch from the emperor was short, and was couched in somewhat mysterious terms, so that the bewildered privy councillors, exaggerating the importance of their commission, caused the most portentous precautions to be taken. Bodies of armed men were despatched in all directions to watch the different mountain-passes and high-roads leading into the country from the North. To the astonishment of the zealous statesmen, the princely party arrived two days later (October 3d), "quietly and properly mannered." They took rooms at the principal hostelry, swinging the signboard of the Golden Rose.[3]
[3] This inn, under the same name, is thriving to this day.
When their arrival became known, a privy council was immediately convoked, and the councillors, who had received that morning minute instructions from the emperor, sent to their noble visitors a deputation consisting of two of their number, Count Lodron and Count Sonnenburg. Their request for an interview was at first refused, on the plea that the illustrious travellers were at the time engaged in their devotions and very much fatigued by their journey. The lady-in-waiting, who in the absence of a chamberlain acted as spokesman, was then informed by the two counts that they came by the express order of His Majesty "to convey a certain message to the princess and her daughter."[4] Thereupon they were allowed to enter and present themselves to the princess-mother. "After humbly offering their congratulations on their safe arrival," the two councillors acquainted the princess-mother with the desire of the emperor that she and her daughter should take up their residence at Innsbruck. On receiving this startling news, "the princess seemed a bit frightened, and stood silent for a little time." Presently she replied that she was quite willing to comply with His Majesty's order, strange as it seemed to her, "for," said she, "our journey had for its sole object a visit to the holy shrine at Loretto, there to perform our prayers." Bowing humbly, the deputation assured her of their ignorance of the whole matter, whereupon the princess dismissed them. They had hardly reached the council-hall, where their ten comrades were awaiting them, as we may presume, full of eagerness and curious to hear how they had fared, when the gentleman-in-waiting of the princess overtook them and acquainted them with her wish to be allowed to inspect the imperial cabinet order. The councillors, "though in our character," said they to the emperor, "as representatives of your most exalted person, we were surely not obliged to produce our credentials," forthwith returned and complied with the princess's request. The minute résumé sent by them to the emperor, and from which we make these verbatim extracts, then says: "The inspection of the document seemed to satisfy the princess, especially when Your Majesty's humble servants pointed out to her the autograph signature of Your exalted Majesty."