Celebrated Claimants from Perkin Warbeck to Arthur Orton Part 3

In 1830 or 1831 a Cornishman, named John Nichols Thom, suddenly left his home, and made his appearance in Kent as Sir William Courtenay, knight of Malta. He was a man of tall and commanding appearance, had ready eloquence, and contrived to persuade many of the Kentish people that he was ent.i.tled to some of the fairest estates in the county, and that when he inherited his property they should live on it rent free.

This pleasant arrangement agreeing with the views of a large proportion of the agriculturists, they entertained him hospitably, and made no secret of their impatience for the arrival of the happy time of which he spoke. Unfortunately Thom became involved in some smuggling transaction, and having been found guilty of perjury in connection with it, was sentenced to six years' transportation. After his condemnation it was discovered that he was insane, and his sentence was not carried out, but he was removed from Maidstone gaol to the county lunatic asylum, where he remained four years. In 1837 he was released by Lord John Russell, who considered that he was sufficiently recovered to be delivered up to the care of his friends.

They, however, failed to discharge their duty efficiently; and in 1838, Thom reappeared in Kent, conducting himself more extravagantly than ever. The farmers and others supplied him with money, and he moved about the county delivering inflammatory harangues in the towns and villages--harangues in which he a.s.sured his auditors that if they followed his advice they should have good living and large estates, as he had great influence at court, and was to sit at her majesty's right hand on the day of the coronation. He told the poor that they were oppressed and down-trodden by the laws of the land, and invited them to place themselves under his command, and he would procure them redress. Moreover, he a.s.sured those whose religious convictions were disturbed, that he was the Saviour of the world; and in order to convince them, pointed to certain punctures in his hands, as those inflicted by the nails of the cross, and to a scar on his side, as the wound which had discharged blood and water. By these representations he succeeded in attaching nearly a hundred people to himself.

On the 28th of May he set out at the head of his tatterdemalion band from the village of Boughton, and proceeded to Fairbrook. Here a pole was procured, and a flag of white and blue, representing a rampant lion, was raised as the banner which was to lead them to victory.

From Fairbrook they marched in a kind of triumphal procession round the neighbouring district, until a farmer of Bossenden, provoked by having his men seduced from their employment by Thom's oratory, made an application for his apprehension. A local constable named Mears, a.s.sisted by two others, proceeded to arrest the crazy impostor. After a brief parley, Thom asked which was the constable; and on being informed by Mears that he held that position, produced a pistol, and shot the unoffending representative of the law, afterwards stabbing him with a dagger. The wounds were almost immediately fatal, and the body was tossed into a ditch. The remaining constables fled to the magistrates who had authorised them to make the capture, and reported the state of affairs. When the intelligence of Mears's death spread abroad, the general indignation and excitement was very great, and a messenger was despatched to fetch some soldiers from Canterbury. A military party soon arrived, but their approach had been heralded to Thom and his strolling vagrants, who had betaken themselves to the recesses of Bossenden wood, where the _soi-disant_ Sir William, by his wild gesticulations and harangues, roused his adherents to a pitch of desperate fury. To show his own valour, as soon as the soldiers, who were intended rather to overawe than injure the mob appeared, he strode out from among his ignorant attendants, and deliberately shot Lieutenant Bennett of the 45th regiment, who was in advance of his party. The lieutenant fell dead on the spot. The soldiers, excited by the murder of their leader, immediately returned the fire, and Thom was one of the first killed. As he fell, he exclaimed, "I have Jesus in my heart!" Ten of his adherents shared his fate, and many were severely wounded. Some of the more prominent among his followers were subsequently arrested, tried, and found guilty of partic.i.p.ating in Bennett's murder. Two of them were sentenced to transportation for life; one had ten years' transportation, while six expiated their offences by a year's imprisonment in the House of Correction.

JAMES ANNESLEY--CALLING HIMSELF EARL OF ANGLESEA.

Arthur Annesley, Viscount Valencia, who founded the families both of Anglesea and Altham, was one of the staunchest adherents of Charles II., and had a considerable hand in bringing about his restoration to the throne. Immediately after that event his efforts were rewarded by an English peerage--his t.i.tle being Baron Annesley of Newport-Pagnel, in the county of Buckingham and Earl of Angelsea. Besides this honour he obtained the more substantial gift of large tracts of land in Ireland. The first peer had five sons. James Annesley, the eldest son, having married the daughter of the Earl of Rutland, and having been const.i.tuted heir of all his father's English real property, and a great part of his Irish estates, the old earl became desirous of establis.h.i.+ng a second n.o.ble family in the sister kingdom, and succeeded in procuring the elevation of his second son Altham to the Irish peerage as Baron Altham of Altham, with remainder, on failure of male issue, to Richard his third son.

Altham, Lord Altham, died without issue, and the t.i.tle and estates accordingly devolved upon Richard, who, dying in 1701, left two sons, named respectively Arthur and Richard. The new peer, in 1706, espoused Mary Sheffield, a natural daughter of the Duke of Buckingham, against the wishes of his relatives. He lived with his wife in England for two or three years, but was at last obliged to flee to Ireland from his creditors, leaving Lady Altham behind him in the care of his mother and sisters. These ladies, who cordially hated her, set about ruining her reputation, and soon induced her weak and dissipated husband to sue for a divorce, but, as proof was not forthcoming, the case was dismissed. Thereupon his lords.h.i.+p showed a disposition to become reconciled to his wife, and she accordingly went over to Dublin in October 1713; and through the good offices of a friend a reconciliation was effected, and the re-united couple, after a temporary residence in Dublin, went to live at Lord Altham's country seat of Dunmain, in the county of Wexford. Here, in April or May 1715, Lady Altham bore a son, which was given to a peasant woman, named Joan Landy, to nurse. At first the young heir was suckled by this woman at the mansion, and afterwards at the cabin of her father, less than a mile from Dunmain. In order to make this residence a little more suitable for the child it was considerably improved externally and internally, and a coach road was constructed between it and Dunmain House, so that Lady Altham might be able frequently to visit her son.

Soon after the birth of the child Lord Altham's dissipation and his debts increased, and he proposed to the Duke of Buckingham that he should settle a jointure on Lady Altham, and for this purpose the pair visited Dublin. The effort was unsuccessful, as the estate was found to be covered by prior securities; and Lord Altham, in a fury, ordered his wife back to Dunmain, while he remained behind in the Irish capital. On his return his spite against her seemed to have revived, and not only did he insult her in his drunken debauches, but contrived an abominable plot to damage her reputation. Some time in February 1717, a loutish fellow named Palliser, who was intimate at the house, was called up to Lady Altham's apartment, on the pretence that she wished to speak to him. Lord Altham and his servants immediately followed; my lord stormed and swore, and dragged the supposed seducer into the dining-room, where he cut off part of one of his ears, and immediately afterwards kicked him out of the house. A separation ensued, and on the same day Lady Altham went to live at New Ross.

Before leaving her own home she had begged hard to be allowed to take her child with her, but was sternly refused, and at the same time the servants were instructed not to carry him near her. The boy therefore remained at Dunmain under the care of a dry nurse, but, notwithstanding his father's injunctions, was frequently taken to his mother by some of the domestics, who pitied her forlorn condition.

When he came to an age to go to school, he was sent to several well-known seminaries, and was attended by a servant both on his way to them and from them; "was clothed in scarlet, with a laced hat and feather;" and was universally recognised as the legitimate son and heir of Lord Altham.

Towards the end of 1722, Lord Altham--who had by this time picked up a mistress named Miss Gregory--removed to Dublin, and sent for his son to join him. He seemed very fond of the boy, and the woman Gregory for a time pretended to share in this affection, until she conceived the idea of supplanting him. She easily persuaded her weak-minded lover to go through the form of marriage with her, under the pretence that his wife was dead, took the t.i.tle of Lady Altham, and fancied that some of her own possible brood might succeed to the t.i.tle, for the estates were by this time well-nigh gone. With this purpose in her mind she used her influence against the boy, and at last got him turned out of the house and sent to a poor school; but it is, at least, so far creditable to his father to say, that he did not quite forget him, that he gave instructions that he should be well treated, and that he sometimes went to see him.

Lord Altham's creditors, as has been stated, were very clamorous, and his brother Richard was practically a beggar: they were both sadly in want of money, and only one way remained to procure it. If the boy were out of the way, considerable sums might be raised by his lords.h.i.+p by the sale of reversions, in conjunction with the remainder-man in tail, who would in that case have been Lord Altham's needy brother Richard. Consequently the real heir was removed to the house of one Kavanagh, where he was kept for several months closely confined, and in the meantime it was industriously given out that he was dead. The boy, however, found means to escape from his confinement, and, prowling up and down the streets, made the acquaintance of all the idle boys in Dublin. Any odd work which came in his way he readily performed; and although he was a b.u.t.t for the gamins and an object of pity to the town's-people, few thought of denying his ident.i.ty or disputing his legitimacy. Far from being unknown, he became a conspicuous character in Dublin; and although, from his roaming proclivities, it was impossible to do much to help him, the citizens in the neighbourhood of the college were kindly disposed towards him, supplied him with food and a little money, and vented their abuse in unmeasured terms against his father.

In 1727 Lord Altham died in such poverty that it is recorded that he was buried at the public expense. After his death, his brother Richard seized all his papers and usurped the t.i.tle. The real heir then seems to have been stirred out of his slavish life, and declaimed loudly against this usurpation of his rights, but his complaints were unavailing, and, although they provoked a certain clamour, did little to restore him to his honours. However, they reached his uncle, who resolved to put him out of the way. The first attempt to seize him proved a failure, although personally superintended by the uncle himself; but young Annesley was so frightened by it that he concealed himself from public observation, and thus gave grounds for a rumour--which was industriously circulated--that he was dead.

Notwithstanding his caution, however, he was seized in March 1727, and conveyed on board a s.h.i.+p bound for Newcastle in America, and on his arrival there was sold as a slave to a planter named Drummond.

The story of his American adventures was originally published in the _Gentleman's Magazine_, and has since been rehea.r.s.ed by modern writers. It seems that Drummond, who was a tyrannical fellow, set his new slave to fell timber, and finding his strength unequal to the work, punished him severely. The unaccustomed toil and the brutality of his master told upon his health, and he began to sink under his misfortunes, when he found a comforter in an old female slave who had herself been kidnapped, and who, being a person of some education, not only endeavoured to console him, but also to instruct him. She sometimes wrote short pieces of instructive history on bits of paper, and these she left with him in the field. In order to read them he often neglected his work, and, as a consequence, incurred Drummond's increased displeasure, and aggravated his own position. His old friend died after four years, and after her death, his life having become intolerable, he resolved to run away. He was then seventeen years of age, and strong and nimble, and having armed himself with a hedging-bill, he set out. For three days he wandered in the woods until he came to a river, and espied a town on its banks. Although faint from want of food, he was afraid to venture into it until night-fall, and lay down under a tree to await the course of events.

At dusk he perceived two hors.e.m.e.n approaching--the one having a woman behind him on a pillion, while the other bore a well-filled portmanteau. Just as they reached his hiding-place, the former, who was evidently the second man's master, said to the lady that the place where they were was an excellent one for taking some refreshment; and bread and meat and wine having been produced from the saddle-bags, the three sat down on the ground to enjoy their repast. Annesley, who was famished, approached closer and closer, until he was discovered by the servant, who, exclaiming to his master that they were betrayed, rushed at the new comer with his drawn sword. Annesley, however, succeeded in convincing them of his innocence, and they not only supplied him with food, but told him that they were going to Apoquenimink to embark for Holland, and that, out of pity for his misfortunes, they would procure him a pa.s.sage in the same vessel. His hopes were destined to be very short-lived. The trio re-mounted, and Annesley had followed them for a short distance painfully on foot, when suddenly hors.e.m.e.n appeared behind them in chase. There was no time for deliberation. The lady jumped off and hid herself among the trees. The gentleman and his servant drew their swords, and Annesley ranged himself beside them armed with his hedge-bill, determined to help those who had generously a.s.sisted him. The contest was unequal, the fugitives were soon surrounded, and, with the lady, were bound and carried to Chester gaol.

It appeared that the young lady was the daughter of a rich merchant, and had been compelled to marry a man who was disagreeable to her; and that, after robbing her husband, she had eloped with a previous lover who held a social position inferior to her own. All the vindictiveness of the husband had been aroused; and when the trial took place, the lady, her lover, and the servant, were condemned to death for the robbery. James Annesley contrived to prove that he was not connected with the party, and escaped their fate; but he was remanded to prison, with orders that he should be exposed to public view every day in the market-place; and that if it could be proved by any of the frequenters that he had ever been seen in Chester before, he should be deemed accessory to the robbery and should suffer death.

He remained in suspense for five weeks, until Drummond chanced to come to Chester on business, and, recognising the runaway, claimed him as his property. The consequence was that the two years which remained of his period of servitude were doubled; and when he arrived at Newcastle, Drummond's severity and violence greatly increased. A complaint of his master's ill-usage was made to the justices, and that worthy was at last obliged to sell him to another; but Annesley gained little by the change. For three years he continued with his new owner in quiet toleration of his lot; but having fallen into conversation with some sailors bound for Europe, the old desire to see Ireland once more came upon him, and he ventured a second escape. He was recaptured before he could gain the s.h.i.+p; and under the order of the court, the solitary year of his bondage which remained was increased into five.

Under this new blow he sank into a settled state of melancholy, and seemed so likely to die that his new master had pity upon his condition, began to treat him with less austerity, and recommended him to the care of his wife, who often took him into the house, and recommended her daughter Maria to use him with all kindness. The damsel exceeded her mother's instructions, and straightway fell in love with the good-looking young slave, often showing her affection in a manner which could not be mistaken. Nor was she the only one on whom his appearance made an impression. A young Iroquis Indian girl, who shared his servitude, made no secret of her attachment to him, exhibited her love by a.s.sisting him in his work, while she a.s.sured him that if he would marry her when his time of bondage was past, she would work so hard as to save him the expense of two slaves. In vain Annesley rejected her advances, and tried to explain to her the hopelessness of her desires. She persistently dogged his footsteps, and was never happy but in his sight. Her rival Maria, no less eager to secure his affection, used to stray to the remote fields in which she knew he worked, and on one occasion encountered the Indian girl, who was also bent upon visiting him. The hot-blooded Indian then lost her self-control, and, having violently a.s.saulted her young mistress, sprang into the river close by, and thus ended her love and her life together.

Maria, who had been seriously abused, was carried home and put to bed, and her father naturally demanded some explanation of the extraordinary quarrel which had cost him a slave and very nearly a daughter. The other slaves had no hesitation in recounting what they had seen, or of saying what they thought, and the truth came out.

Annesley's master was, however, resolved to be certain, and sent him into her room, while he and his wife listened to what pa.s.sed at the interview. Their stratagem had the desired success. They heard their daughter express the most violent pa.s.sion, which was in no way returned by their slave. As they could not but acknowledge his honourable feeling and action, they resolved to take no notice of what had pa.s.sed, but for their daughter's sake to give him his liberty.

Next day his master accompanied him to Dover; but instead of releasing him--as he had promised his wife--sold him to a planter near Chichester for the remainder of his term.

After various ups and downs, he was transferred to a planter in Newcastle county, whose house was almost within sight of Drummond's plantation. While in this employ he discovered that he was tracked by the brothers of the Indian girl, who had sworn to avenge her untimely fate, and nearly fell a victim to their rage, having been wounded by one of them who lay in wait for him. By another accident, while he was resting under a hedge which divided his master's ground from a neighbouring plantation, he fell asleep, and did not awake until it was perfectly dark. He was aroused by the sound of voices, and on listening found that his mistress and Stephano, a slave on another farm, were plotting to rob his master, and to flee together to Europe.

Repressing his desire to reveal the whole scheme to his master, he took the first opportunity of informing his mistress that her infamy was discovered, and that if she persevered in her design he would be compelled to reveal all that he had overheard. The woman at first pretended the utmost repentance, and not only earnestly promised that she would never repeat her conduct, but by many excessive acts of kindness led him to believe that her unlawful pa.s.sion had changed its object. Finding, however, that she could not prevail upon him either to wink at her misdeeds or gratify her desires, she endeavoured to get rid of him by poison; and an attempt having been made upon his life, Annesley resolved once more to risk an escape, although the time of his servitude had almost expired.

On this occasion he was successful; and having made his way in a trading s.h.i.+p to Jamaica, got on board the "Falmouth," one of his Majesty's s.h.i.+ps, and declared himself an Irish n.o.bleman. His arrival, of course, created a great stir in the fleet, and the affair came to the ears of Admiral Vernon, who, having satisfied himself that his pretensions were at least reasonable, ordered him to be well treated, wrote to the Duke of Newcastle about him, and sent him home to England. He arrived in October 1741. His uncle Richard had in the meantime succeeded, through default of issue, to the honours of Anglesea, as well as those of Altham, and became seriously alarmed at the presence of this pretender on English soil. At first he a.s.serted that the claimant, although undoubtedly the son of his deceased brother, was the b.a.s.t.a.r.d child of a kitchen wench. He next tried to effect a compromise with him, and subsequently endeavoured to procure his conviction on a charge of murder. It is also said that a.s.sa.s.sins were hired to kill him. But it is certainly true that Annesley having accidentally shot a man near Staines, the Earl of Anglesea spared neither pains nor money to have him condemned. He was tried at the Old Bailey, and being acquitted by the jury, proceeded to Ireland to prosecute his claim to the Altham estates. On his arrival at Dunmain and New Ross, he was very warmly received by many of the peasantry.

His first attempt to secure redress was by an action at law. An action for ejectment was brought in the Court of Exchequer in Ireland for a small estate in the county of Meath, and a bill was at the same time filed in the Court of Chancery of Great Britain for the recovery of the English estates.

In Trinity term 1743, when everything was ready for a trial at the next ensuing a.s.sizes, a trial at bar was appointed on the application of the agents of the Earl of Anglesea. The case began on the 11th of November 1743, at the bar of the Court of Exchequer in Dublin, being, as is noted in Howell's _State Trials_, "the longest trial ever known, lasting fifteen days, and the jury (most of them) gentlemen of the greatest property in Ireland, and almost all members of parliament." A verdict was found for the claimant, with 6d. damages and 6d. costs. A writ of error was at once lodged on the other side, but on appeal the judgment of the Court below was affirmed. Immediately after the trial and verdict, the claimant pet.i.tioned his Majesty for his seat in the Houses of Peers of both kingdoms; but delay after delay took place, and he finally became so impoverished that he could no longer prosecute his claims.

James Annesley was twice married; but although he had a son by each marriage, neither of them grew to manhood. He died on the 5th of January 1760.

CAPTAIN HANS-FRANCIS HASTINGS, CLAIMING TO BE EARL OF HUNTINGDON.

The earldom of Huntingdon was granted by King Henry VIII. to George, Lord Hastings, on the 8th of November 1529. The first peer left five sons, of whom the eldest succeeded to the t.i.tle on his father's decease; but notwithstanding the multiplicity of heirs-male, and the chances of a prolonged existence, the t.i.tle lapsed in 1789, on the death of Francis, the tenth earl, who never was married.

In 1817, there was living at Enniskillen, in Ireland, an ordnance store-keeper called Captain Hans-Francis Hastings, and this gentleman there made the acquaintance of a solicitor named Mr. Nugent Bell, who, like himself, was ardently devoted to field-sports. The friends.h.i.+p subsisting between the pair was of the closest kind; and it having been whispered about that the captain had made a sort of side-claim to the earldom of Huntingdon, Mr. Bell questioned him about the truth of the rumour. As it turned out, the circ.u.mstantial part of the story was totally false; but it nevertheless was a fact that Captain Hastings had a faint idea that he had some right to the dormant peerage.

However, as he said himself, he had been sent early to sea, had been long absent from his native country, and had little really valuable information as to his family history. He said that his uncle, the Rev.

Theophilus Hastings, rector of Great and Little Leke, had always endeavoured to impress upon him that he was the undoubted heir to the t.i.tle, and that fourteen years previously he had himself so far entertained the notion as to pay a visit to College of Arms in London, to learn the proper steps to be taken to establish his claim; but that when he was told that the cost of the process would be at least three thousand guineas, he abandoned all notion of legal proceedings, which were simply impossible because of his scanty resources. Mrs. Hastings, who was present during the conversation, contributed all that she knew respecting the whimsical old clergyman who had so carefully instructed his nephew to consider himself a peer in prospective, and particularly pointed out that the old gentleman entertained an irreconcileable hatred of the Marquis of Hastings. It seemed also that some time after the last earl's death, the Rev. Mr. Hastings had a.s.sumed the t.i.tle of Earl of Huntingdon, and that a stone pillar had been erected in front of the parsonage-house at Leke, on which there was a metal plate bearing a Latin inscription, to the effect that he was the eleventh Earl of Huntingdon, G.o.dson of Theophilus the ninth earl, and ent.i.tled to the earldom by descent.

These reminiscences and suspicions could not have been poured into more attentive ears. Mr. Bell had long been a student of heraldry, and saw an opportunity not only of benefiting his friend, but of signalizing himself. Accordingly he undertook to investigate the matter, and offered, in the event of failure, to bear the whole of the attendant expense, simply premising that, if he succeeded, he should be recouped. On the 1st of July a letter pa.s.sed between Captain Hastings and Mr. Bell, which shows the sentiments of both parties. This is it:--

"MY DEAR BELL,--I will pay you all costs in case you succeed in proving me the legal heir to the Earldom of Huntingdon. If not, the risk is your own; and I certainly will not be answerable for any expense you may incur in the course of the investigation. But I pledge myself to a.s.sist you by letters, and whatever information I can collect, to the utmost of my power; and remain very sincerely yours, F. HASTINGS."

"Nugent Bell, Esq."

On the back of this letter Captain Hastings wrote:

"By all that's good, you are mad."

On the 17th of August Mr. Bell sailed for England, and proceeded to Castle Donnington, where he had a very unsatisfactory interview with a solicitor named Dalby, who had long been in the employment of the Hastings family. Bit by bit, however, he picked up information, and every addition seemed to render the claim of the Enniskillen captain stronger, until at last Bell drew up a case which met the unqualified approval of Sir Samuel Romilly, who said, "I do not conceive that it will be necessary to employ counsel to prepare the pet.i.tion which is to be presented to the Prince-Regent. All that it will be requisite to do is to state that the first earl was created by letters-patent to him and the heirs-male of his body; and the fact of the death of the last Earl of Huntingdon having left the pet.i.tioner the heir-male of the body of the first earl, surviving him, together with the manner in which he makes out his descent; and to pray that his Royal Highness will be pleased to give directions that a writ of summons should issue to call him up to the House of Lords." A pet.i.tion was accordingly prepared in this sense, and was submitted to the Attorney-General, Sir Samuel Shepherd, who made the recommendation as suggested. After the Attorney-General's report had received the approbation of the Lord Chancellor, the Prince-Regent signed the royal warrant, and Captain Hastings took his place in the House of Lords as Earl of Huntingdon.

REBOK--THE COUNTERFEIT VOLDEMAR, ELECTOR OF BRANDENBURG.

Voldemar II., Marquis and Elector of Brandenburg, actuated by a fit of devotion, set out from his dominions in 1322 on a pilgrimage to the Holy Land, leaving his brother John IV. to rule in his absence. He left no clue as to his intended route; but simply announcing his purpose of visiting the sacred shrines of Palestine, started on his journey accompanied by only two esquires. Four-and-twenty days after his departure his brother John sickened and died--not without suspicions of foul play--and Louis of Bavaria, then possessing the empire, presented the electorate to his own eldest son as a vacant fief of Germany. The change was quietly effected; but in 1345 a man suddenly appeared as from the dead, proclaiming himself the missing Voldemar, and demanding the restoration of his rights. He was of about the same age as the elector would have been, and the story which he told of captivity among the Saracens was sufficient to account for any perceptible change in his gait and appearance, and in the colour of his hair. Those who were interested in opposing his claim stoutly a.s.serted that he was a miller of Landreslaw, called Rebok, and that he was a creature of the Duke of Saxony, who coveted the Brandenburgian possessions, and who, being a relative of the family, had thoroughly instructed him as to the private life of Voldemar. His plausibility, and the accuracy of his answers, however, led many persons of influence to believe that he was no counterfeit. The Emperor Charles IV. (of Bohemia), the Primate of Germany, the Princes of Anhalt, and the Dukes of Brunswick, Pomerania, Mecklenburg, and Saxony, all supported his pretensions; the most of the n.o.bility of the marquisate acknowledged him to be their prince; and the common people, either touched with the hards.h.i.+ps he was said to have suffered, or wearied of Bavarian rule, lent him money to acquire his rights and drive out Louis. All the cities declared for him except Frankfort-on-the-Oder, Spandau, and Brisac, and war was at once begun. The victory at first rested with the so-called Voldemar; many of the towns opened their gates to him; and his rival Louis fled to his estates in the Tyrol, leaving the electorate to his two brothers--a disposition which was confirmed by the Emperor Charles IV. in 1350. There are two versions of the death of Voldemar. Lunclavius a.s.serts that he was finally captured and burnt alive for his imposture; while De Rocoles maintains that he died at Dessau in 1354, nine years after his return, and was buried in the tombs of the Princes of Anhalt. The general impression, however, is that he was an impostor.

ARNOLD DU TILH--THE PRETENDED MARTIN GUERRE.

There are few cases in the long list of French _causes celebres_ more remarkable than that of the alleged Martin Guerre. This individual, who was more greatly distinguished by his adventures than by his virtues, was a Biscayan, and at the very juvenile age of eleven was married to a girl called Bertrande de Rols. For eight or nine years Martin and his wife lived together without issue from their marriage, notwithstanding ma.s.ses said, consecrated wafers eaten by the wife and charms employed by the husband to drive away the bewitchment under which he supposed himself to labour. But in the tenth year after the marriage a son was born, and was named Sanxi. The father's joy was of brief duration; for having been guilty of defrauding his own father of a quant.i.ty of corn, he was compelled to abscond to avoid the paternal rage and the probable consequences of a prosecution. It was at first intended that he should only stay away until the family difficulty blew over. But Martin, once gone, was not so easily persuaded to come back, and eight long years elapsed before his wife saw his face. At the end of that time he suddenly returned, and was received with open arms by Bertrande, who was congratulated by her husband's four sisters, his uncle, and her own relations. The re-united pair lived together at Artigues for three years in apparent peace and happiness, and during this period two children were born to them. But suddenly the wife Bertrande appeared before the magistrates of Rieux, and lodged a complaint against her husband, praying "that he might be condemned to make satisfaction to the king for a breach of his laws; to demand pardon of G.o.d, the king, and herself, in his s.h.i.+rt, with a lighted torch in his hand; declaring that he had falsely, rashly, and traitorously imposed upon her in a.s.suming the name and pa.s.sing himself upon her for Martin Guerre."

The affair created no small stir in the neighbourhood, and the gossips were driven to their wits' end to explain it. Some a.s.serted that, either through an old grudge or a recent quarrel, she had adopted this method of getting quit of her husband, while others maintained that she was naturally a woman of undecided character and opinions, and that, as at first she had been easily persuaded that this man was her husband, she had acted latterly on the suggestions and advice of Peter Guerre, her husband's uncle, who pretended to have discovered that he was an impostor, and had recommended her to apply to the authorities.

The accused himself staunchly maintained that the charge was the result of a conspiracy between his wife and his uncle, and that the latter had contrived the plot with a view to possess himself of his effects. That no doubt might remain as to his ident.i.ty he gave an outline of his personal history from the time of his flight from home to the time of his arrest, stating the reasons which induced him to leave his wife in the first instance, and his adventures during his absence. He said that for seven or eight years he had served the king in the wars; that he had then enlisted in the Spanish army; and that, having returned home, longing to see his wife and children, he had been welcomed without hesitation by his relations and acquaintances, and even by Peter Guerre, notwithstanding the alteration which time and camp-life had made in his appearance. He declared, moreover, that his uncle had persistently quarrelled with him since his return, that blows had frequently been exchanged between them, and that thus an evil _animus_ had been created against him.

In answer to the interrogatories of the judge, he unhesitatingly told the leading circ.u.mstances of his earlier life, mentioning trivial details, giving prominent dates glibly, and showing the utmost familiarity with petty as with important matters of family history. As far as his marriage was concerned, he named the persons who were present at the nuptials, those who dined with them, their different dresses, the priest who performed the ceremony, all the little circ.u.mstances that happened that day and the next, and even named the people who presided at the bedding. And, as if the official interrogatory were not sufficiently complete, he spoke, of his own accord, of his son Sanxi, and of the day he was born; of his own departure, of the persons he met on the road, of the towns he had pa.s.sed through in France and Spain, and of people with whom he had become acquainted in both kingdoms.

Nearly a hundred and fifty witnesses were examined in the cause, and of these between thirty and forty deposed that the accused really was Martin Guerre; that they had known him and had spoken to him from his infancy; that they were perfectly acquainted with his person, manner, and tone of voice; and that, moreover, they were convinced of his ident.i.ty by certain scars and marks on his person.

On the other hand, a greater number of persons a.s.serted as positively that the man before them was one Arnold du Tilh, of Sagais, and was commonly called Pansette; while nearly sixty of the witnesses--who had known both men--declared that there was so strong a resemblance between these two persons that it was impossible for them to declare positively whether the accused was Martin Guerre or Arnold du Tilh.