Charles, in fact, was himself very poor: when money came in, either from English adherents or from the Loch Arkaig hoard, he sent large remittances to Avignon.

Money did come in, partly, no doubt, from English adherents.  We find the following orders from the Prince to Colonel Goring.

From the Prince to Goring.

‘Ye 31st July, 1749.

‘I gave you Lately a proof of my Confidence, by our parting together from Avignion, so that you will not be surprized of a New Instance.  You are to repair on Receipt of this to London, there to Let know to such friends as you can see, my situation, and Resolutions; all tending to nothing else but the good and relieve of our Poor Country which ever was, and shall be my only thoughts.  Take Care of yr.Self, do not think to be on a detachement, but only a simple Minister that is to comback with a distinct account from them parts, and remain assured of my Constant friendship and esteem.

‘C. P. R.  For Goring.

‘P.S.—Cypher.

‘I. S h a l. C o n q u e r.
‘3 w k y p t d b q x m f.

‘My name shall be John Douglas.

‘Jean Noé D’Orville & fils.  A Frankfort sur Maine, a Banquier of that Town.’

The Prince may have been at Frankfort, but, as a rule, he was hiding in Lorraine when not in Paris or near it, and, as we have seen, was under the protection of various French and fashionable Flora Macdonalds.  Of these ladies, ‘Madame de Beauregard’ and the Princesse de Talmond are apparently the same person.  With them, or her (she also appears as la tante and la vieille), Charles’s relations were stormy.  He wearied her, he broke with her, he scolded her, and returned to her again.  Another protectress, Madame d’Aiguillon, was the mistress of the household most frequented by Montesquieu, le filosophe, as Charles calls him.  Madame du Deffand has left to us portraits of both the Princesse de Talmond and Madame d’Aiguillon.

‘Madame de Talmond has beauty and wit and vivacity; that turn for pleasantry which is our national inheritance seems natural to her. . . .  But her wit deals only with pleasant frivolities; her ideas are the children of her memory rather than of her imagination.  French in everything else, she is original in her vanity.  Ours is more sociable, inspires the desire to please, and suggests the means.  Hers is truly Sarmatian, artless and indolent; she cannot bring herself to flatter those whose admiration she covets. . . .  She thinks herself perfect, says so, and expects to be believed.  At this price alone does she yield a semblance of friendship: semblance, I say, for her affections are concentrated on herself . . . She is as jealous as she is vain, and so capricious as to make her at once the most unhappy and the most absurd of women.  She never knows what she wants, what she fears, whom she loves, or whom she hates.  There is no nature in her expression: with her chin in the air she poses eternally as tender or disdainful, absent or haughty; all is affectation. . . .  She is feared and hated by all who live in her society.  Yet she has truth, courage, and honesty, and is such a mixture of good and evil that no steadfast opinion about her can be entertained.  She pleases, she provokes: we love, hate, seek, and avoid her.  It is as if she communicated to others the eccentricity of her own caprice.’

Where a character like hers met a nature like the Prince’s, peace and quiet were clearly out of the question.

Madame du Deffand is not more favourable to another friend of Charles, Madame d’Aiguillon.  This lady gave a supper every Saturday night, where neither her husband, the lover of the Princesse de Conti, nor her son, later the successor of Choiseul as Minister of Louis XV., was expected to appear.  ‘The most brilliant men, French or foreign, were her guests, attracted by her abundant, active, impetuous, and original intellect, by her elevated conversation, and her kindness of manner.’ [86]  She was, according to Gustavus III., ‘the living gazette of the Court, the town, the provinces, and the academy.’  Voltaire wrote to her rhymed epistles.  Says Madame du Deffand, ‘Her mouth is fallen in, her nose crooked, her glance wild and bold, and in spite of all this she is beautiful.  The brilliance of her complexion atones for the irregularity of her features.  Her waist is thick, her bust and arms are enormous. yet she has not a heavy air: her energy gives her ease of movement.  Her wit is like her face, brilliant and out of drawing.  Profusion, activity, impetuosity are her ruling qualities . . . She is like a play which is all spectacle, all machines and decorations, applauded by the pit and hissed by the boxes. . . . ’

Montesquieu was hardly a spectator in the pit, yet he habitually lived at Madame d’Aiguillon’s; ‘she is original,’ he said, and she, with Madame Dupré de Saint-Maur, watched by the death-bed of the philosopher. [87]

In unravelling the hidden allusions of Charles’s correspondence, I at first recognised Madame d’Aiguillon in Charles’s friend ‘La Grandemain.’  The name seemed a suitable sobriquet, for a lady with gros bras, like Madame d’Aiguillon, might have large hands.  The friendship of ‘La Grandemain’ with the philosophe, Montesquieu, also pointed to Madame d’Aiguillon.  But Charles, at a later date, makes a memorandum that he has deposited his strong box, with money, at the rooms of La Comtesse de Vassé, in the Rue Saint Dominique, Faubourg St. Germain.  That box, again, as he notes, was restored by ‘La Grandemain.’  This fact, with Grimm’s anecdote, identifies ‘La Grandemain,’ not with Madame d’Aiguillon, but with Madame de Vassé, ‘the Comtesse,’ as Goring calls her, though Grimm makes her a Marquise.  If Montesquieu’s private papers and letters in MS. had been published in full, we should probably know more of this matter.  His relations with Bulkeley were old and most intimate.  Before he died he confessed to Father Routh, an Irish Jesuit, whom Voltaire denounces in ‘Candide.’  This Routh must have been connected with Colonel Routh, an Irish Jacobite in French service, husband of Charles’s friend, ‘la Comtesse de Routh.’  Montesquieu himself, though he knew, as we shall show, the Prince’s secret, was no conspirator.  Unluckily, as we learn from M. Vian’s life of the philosopher, his successors have been very chary of publishing details of his private existence.  It is, of course, conceivable that Helvetius, who told Hume that his house had sheltered Charles, is the philosophe mentioned by Mademoiselle Luci and Madame de Vassé.  But Charles’s proved relations with Montesquieu, and Montesquieu’s known habit of frequenting the society of his lady neighbours in the convent of St. Joseph, also his intimacy with Charles’s friend Bulkeley, who attended his death-bed, all seem rather to point to the author of ‘L’Esprit des Lois.’  The philosophes, for a moment, seem to have expected to find in Prince Charlie the ‘philosopher-king’ of Plato’s dream!

The Prince’s distinguished friends unluckily did not succeed in inspiring him with common sense.

On August 16 he defends the conduct of cette home, ou tête de fer (himself), and he writes a few aphorisms, Maximes d’un l’ome sauvage!  He aimed at resembling Charles XII., called ‘Dener Bash’ by the Turks, for his obstinacy, a nickname also given by Lord Marischal to the Prince.  Like Balen, he was termed ‘The Wild,’ ‘by knights whom kings and courts can tame.’  He writes to the younger Waters,

To Waters, Junior.

‘Ye 21st August, 1749.

‘I receive yrs. of ye 8th.  Current with yr two as mentioned and I heve send their Answers for Avignon, plese to Enclose in it a Credit for fifteen thousand Livers, to Relive my family there, at the disposal of Stafford and Sheridan.  I am sorry to be obliged oftener to draw upon you, than to remit, and cannot help Reflection on this occasion, on the Misery of that poor Popish Town, and all their Inhabitants not being worth four hundred Louidors.  Mr. B. [Bulkeley] Mistakes as to my taking amis anything of him, on the contrary I am charmed to heve the opinion of everybody, particularly them Like him, as I am shure say nothing but what they think: but as I am so much imbibed in ye English air, where My only Concerns are, I cannot help sometimes differing with ye inhabitants of forain Climats.

‘I remain all yours.

‘15,000 ff.  Credit for Stafford and Sheridan at Avignon.’

‘Newton’ kept writing, meanwhile, that Cluny can do nothing till winter, ‘on account of the sheilings,’ the summer habitations of the pastoral Highlanders.  There may have been sheilings near the hiding-places of the Loch Arkaig treasure.  On September 30 we find Charles professing his inébranlable amitié for Madame de Talmond.  He bids his courier stop at Lunéville, as she may be at the Court of Stanislas there.

The results of Goring’s mission to England may be gleaned from a cypher letter of ‘Malloch’ (Balhaldie) to James.  Balhaldie had been in London; he found the party staunch, ‘but frighted out of their wits.’  The usual names of the official Jacobites are given—Barrymore, Sir William Watkyns Wynne, and Beaufort.  But they are all alarmed ‘by Lord Traquair’s silly indiscretion in blabbing to Murray of Broughton of their concerns, wherein he could be of no use.’  They had summoned Balhaldie, and complained of the influence of Kelly, an adviser bequeathed to Charles by his old tutor, Sir Thomas Sheridan, now dead.  ‘They saw well that the Insurrection Sir James Harrington was negotiating, to be begun at Litchfield Election and Races, in September ’47, was incouraged, and when that failed, the Insurrection attempted by Lally’s influence on one Wilson, a smuggler in Sussex, which could serve no end save the extinction of the unhappy men concerned in them; therefore they had taken pains to prevent any.  They lamented the last steps the Prince had taken here as scarcely reparable.’

Goring had now been with them, and they had insisted on the Prince’s procuring a reconciliation with the French Court.  ‘Goring’s only business was to say that the Prince had parted with Kelly, Lally, Sir James Graeme, and Oxburgh, and the whole, and to assure friends in England that he would never more see any one of them.’  Charles was, therefore, provided by his English friends with 15,000l., and the King’s timid party of men with much to lose won a temporary triumph.  He sent 21,000 livres to his Avignon household, adding, ‘I received yours with a list of my bookes: I find sumne missing of them.  Particularly Fra Paulo [Sarpi] and Boccaccio, which are both rare.  If you find any let me know it.’

Charles was more of a bibliophile than might be guessed from his orthography.

On November 22, 1749, Charles, from Lunéville, wrote a long letter to a lady, speaking of himself in the third person.  All approaches to Avignon are guarded, to prevent his return thither.  ‘Despite the Guards, they assure me that he is in France, and not far from the capital.  The Lieutenant of Police has been heard to say, by a person who informed me, that he knew for certain the Prince had come in secret to Paris, and had been at the house of Monsieur Lally.  The King winks at all this, but it is said that M. de Puysieux and the Mistress (Madame de Pompadour) are as ill disposed as ever.  I know from a good source that 15,000l. has been sent to the Prince from England, on condition of his dismissing his household.’ [91]

The spelling of this letter is correct, and possibly the Prince did not write it, but copied it out.  That Louis XV. winked at his movements is probable enough; secretive as he was, the King may have known what he concealed even from his Minister, de Puysieux.

On December 19, the Prince, who cannot have been far from Paris, sent Goring thither ‘to get my big Muff and portfeul.’  I do not know which lady he addressed, on December 10, as ‘l’Adorable,’ ‘avec toute la tendresse possible.’  On November 28, ‘R. Jackson’ writes from England.  He saw Dr. King (of St. Mary Hall, Oxford), who had been at Lichfield races, ‘and had a list of the 275 gentlemen who were there.’  This Mr. Jackson was going to Jamaica, to Henry Dawkins, brother of Jemmy Dawkins, a rich and scholarly planter who played a great part, later, in Jacobite affairs.

In 1750, February found Charles still without a reply to his letter of May 26, in which he made an anonymous appeal for shelter in Imperial territories.  Orders to Goring, who had been sent to Lally, bid him ‘take care not to get benighted in the woods and dangerous places.’  A good deal is said about a marble bust of the Prince at which Lemoine is working, the original, probably, of the plaster busts sold in autumn in Red Lion Square.  ‘Newton’ (January 28) thinks Cluny wilfully dilatory about sending the Loch Arkaig treasure, and Æneas Macdonald, the banker, one of the Seven Men of Moidart, accuses ‘Newton’ (Kennedy) of losing 8001. of the money at Newmarket races!  In fact, Young Glengarry and Archibald Cameron had been helping themselves freely to the treasure at this very time, whence came endless trouble and recriminations, as we shall see. [92]

On January 25 the Prince was embroiled with Madame de Talmond.  He writes, obviously in answer to remonstrances:

‘Nous nous prometons de suivre en tout les volontés et les arrangemens de notre fidèle amie et alliée, L. P. D. T.; nous retirer aux heures qu’il lui conviendra a la ditte P, soit de jour, soit de nuit, soit de ses états, en foy de quoi nous signons.  C.’

He had begun to bore the capricious lady.

Important intrigues were in the air.  The Prince resembled ‘paper-sparing Pope’ in his use of scraps of writing material.  One piece bears notes both of February and June 1750.  On February 16 Charles wrote to Mr. Dormer, an English Jacobite:

‘I order you to go to Anvers, and there to execute my instructions without delay.’

Goring carried the letter.  Then comes a despatch of June, which will be given under date.

Concerning the fatal hoard of Loch Arkaig, ‘Newton’ writes thus:—

Tho. Newton to —

‘March 18, 1750.

‘You have on the other side the melancholy confirmation of what I apprehended.  Dr. Cameron is no doubt the person here mentioned that carryd away the horses [money], for he is lately gone to Rome, as is also young Glengery, those and several others of them, have been very flush of money, so that it seems they took care of themselves.  C. [Cluny] in my opinion is more to be blamed than any of them, for if he had a mind to act the honest part he certainly could have given up the whole long since.  They will no doubt represent me not in the most advantageous light at Rome, for attempting to carry out of their country what they had to support them.  I hope they will one day or other be obliged to give an acct. of this money, if so, least they shd. attempt to Impose upon you, you’l find my receipts to C. will exactly answer what I had already the honour of giving you an acct. of.’

Again ‘Newton’ writes:

(Tho. Newton—From G. Waters’s Letter.)

‘April 27, 1750.

‘I am honored with yours of the 6th. Inst. and nothing could equal my surprize at the reception of the Letter I sent you.  I did not expect C [Cluny] was capable of betraying the confidence you had in him, and he is the more culpable, as I frequently put it in his power to acquit himself of his duty without reproach of any side.  Only Cameron is returned from Rome greatly pleased with the reception he met there.  I have not seen him, but he has bragged of this to many people here since his return.  I never owned to any man alive to have been employed in that affair.’

In spite of Newton, it is not to be credited that Cluny, lurking in many perils on Ben Alder, was unfaithful about the treasure.

Meanwhile, Young Glengarry (whose history we give later), Archibald Cameron (Lochiel’s brother), Sir Hector Maclean, and other Jacobites, were in Rome, probably to explain their conduct about the Loch Arkaig treasure to James.  He knew nothing about the matter, and what he said will find its proper place when we come to investigate the history of Young Glengarry.  The Prince at this time corresponded a good deal with ‘Mademoiselle Luci,’ that fair philosophical recluse who did little commissions for him in Paris.  On April 4 he wants a list of the books he left in Paris, and shows a kind heart.

‘Pray take care of the young surgeon, M. Le Coq, and see that he wants for nothing.  As the lad gets no money from his relations, he may be in need.’  Charles, on March 28, writes thus to ‘Madame de Beauregard,’ which appears to be an alias of Madame de Talmond:

The Prince.

March 28, 1750.

‘A Md. Bauregor.  Je vois avec Chagrin que vous vous tourmentes et mois aussi bien innutillement, et en tout sans [sens].  Ou vous voules me servire, ou vous ne Le voules pas; ou vous voules me protege, ou non; Il n’y a acune autre alternative en raison qui puis etre.  Si vous voules me servire il ne faut pas me soutenire toujours que Blan [blanc] est noire, dans Les Chose Les plus palpable: et jamais Avouer que vous aves tort meme quant vous Le santes.  Si vous ne voules pas me servire, il est inutile que je vous parle de ce qui me regarde: si vous voules me protege, il ne faut pas me rendre La Vie plus malheureuse qu’il n’est.  Si vous voules m’abandoner il faut me Le dire en bon Francois ou Latin.  Visus solum’ [sic].

Madame de Talmond sheltered the Prince both in Lorraine and in Paris.  They were, unluckily, born to make each other’s lives ‘insupportable.’

Charles wrote this letter, probably to Madame d’Aiguillon, from Paris:

May 12, 1750.

‘La Multitude d’affaire de toute Espèce dont j’ai été plus que surchargé, Madame, depuis plus de quatre Mois, Chose que votre Chancelier a du vous attester, ne m’ avois permis de vous rappeller Le souvenir de vos Bontés pour Moi; qualque Long qu’ait ete Le Silance que j’ai gardé sur Le Desir que j’ai d’en mériter La Continuation j’espère qu’il ne m’en aura rien fait perdre: j’ose meme presumer Encore asses pour me flater qu’une Longue absence que je projette par raison et par une necessite absolue, ne m’efacera pas totalement de votre souvenir; Daigne Le Conserver, Madame a quelquun qui n’en est pas indigne et qui cherchera toujours a Le meriter par son tendre et respectueux attachement—a Paris Le 12 May, 1750.’

A quaint light is thrown on the Prince’s private affairs (May 12) by Waters’s note of his inability to get a packet of Scottish tartan, sent by Archibald Cameron, out of the hands of the Custom House.  It was confiscated as ‘of British manufacture.’  Again, on May 18, Charles wrote to Mademoiselle Luci, in Paris.  She is requested ‘de faire avoire une ouvrage de Mr. Fildings, (auteur de Tom Jones) qui s’apel Joseph Andrews, dans sa langue naturelle, et la traduction aussi.’  He also wants ‘Tom Jones’ in French, and we may infer that he is teaching to some fair pupil the language of Fielding.  He asks, too, for a razor-case with four razors, a shaving mirror, and a strong pocket-book with a lock.  His famous ‘chese de post’ (post-chaise) is to be painted and repaired.

Business of a graver kind is in view.  ‘Newton’ (April 24) is to get ready to accompany the Prince on a long journey, really to England, it seems.  Newton asked for a delay, on account of family affairs.  He was only to be known to the bearer as ‘Mr. Newton,’ of course not his real name.

On May 28, Charles makes a mote about a mysterious lady, really Madame de Talmond.

Project.

‘If ye lady abandons me at the last moment, to give her the letter here following for ye F. K. [French King], and even ye original, if she thinks it necessary, but with ye greatest secrecy; apearing to them already in our confidence that I will quit the country, if she does not return to me immediately.’

Drafts of letters to the French King, in connection with Madame de Talmond—to be delivered, apparently, if Charles died in England—will be given later.  To England he was now bent on making his way.  ‘Ye Prince is determined to go over at any rate,’ he wrote on a draft of May 3, 1750. [97]  ‘The person who makes the proposal of coming over assures that he will expose nobody but himself, supposing the worst.’  Sir Charles Goring is to send a ship for his brother, Henry Goring, to Antwerp, early in August.  ‘To visit Mr. P. of D. [unknown] . . . and to agree where the arms &c. may be most conveniently landed, the grand affair of L. [London?] to be attempted at the same time.’  There are notes on ‘referring the Funds to a free Parliament,’ ‘The Tory landed interest wished to repudiate the National Debt,’ ‘To acquaint particular persons that the K. [King] will R—’ (resign), which James had no intention of doing.

In preparation for the insurrection Charles, under extreme secrecy, deposited 186,000 livres (‘livers!’) with Waters.  He also ordered little silver counters with his effigy, as the English Government came to know, for distribution, and he commanded a miniature of himself, by Le Brun, ‘with all the Orders.’  This miniature may have been a parting gift to Madame de Talmond, or one of the other protecting ladies, ‘adorable’ or quarrelsome.  It is constantly spoken of in the correspondence.

Prince Charles in 1750. From a miniature in Her Majesty’s Collection at Windsor Castle

The real business in hand is revealed in the following directions for Goring.  The Prince certainly makes a large order on Dormer, and it is not probable, though (from the later revelations of James Mohr Macgregor) it is possible, that the weapons demanded were actually procured.

June 8.

Letter and Directions for Goring.—‘Mr. Dutton will go directly to Anvers and there wait Mr. Barton’s arrival and asoon as you have received his Directions you’l set out to join me, in the mean time you will concert with Dormer the properest means of procuring the things [‘arms,’ erased] I now order him, in the strictest secrecy, likewise how I could be concealed in case I came to him, and the safest way of travelling to that country?’

For Mr. Dormer.  Same Date.  Anvers.

‘As you have already offered me by ye Bearer, Mr. Goring, to furnish me what Arms necessary for my service I hereby desire you to get me with all ye expedition possible Twenty Thousand Guns, Baionets, Ammunition proportioned, with four thousand sords and Pistols for horces [cavalry] in one ship which is to be ye first, and in ye second six thousand Guns without Baionets but sufficient Amunition and Six thouzand Brode sords; as Mr. Goring has my further Directions to you on them Affaires Leaves me nothing farther to add at present.’

On June 11, Charles remonstrated with Madame de Talmond: if she is tired of him, he will go to ‘le Lorain.’  ‘Enfin, si vous voulez ma vie, il faut changer de tout.’  On June 27, Newton repeated his expressions of suspicion about Cluny, and spoke of ‘disputes and broils’ among the Scotch as to the seizure of the Loch Arkaig money.

On July 2, Charles, in cypher, asked James for a renewal of his commission as Regent.  Goring, or Newton, was apparently sent at least as far as Avignon with this despatch.  He travelled as Monsieur Fritz, a German, with complicated precautions of secrecy.  James sent the warrant to be Regent on parchment—it is in the Queen’s Library—but he added that Charles was ‘a continual heartbreak,’ and warned his son not to expect ‘friendship and favours from people, while you do all that is necessary to disgust them.’  He ‘could not in decency’ see Charles’s envoy (August 4).  On the following day Edgar wrote in a more friendly style, for this excellent man was of an amazing loyalty.

From James Edgar.

‘August 5, 1750: Rome.

‘Your Royal Highness does me the greatest pleasure in mentioning the desire you have to have the King’s head in an intaglio.  There is nobody can serve you as well in that respect as I, so I send you by the bearers two, one on a stone like a ruby, but it is a fine Granata, and H.M.’s hair and the first letters of his name are on the inside of it.  The other head is on an emerald, a big one, but not of a fine colour; it is only set in lead, so you may either set it in a ring, a seal, or a locket, as you please: they are both cut by Costanzia, and very well done.’

These intagli would be interesting relics for collectors of such flotsam and jetsam of a ruined dynasty.  On August 25, Charles answered Edgar.  He is ‘sorry that His Majesty is prevented against the most dutiful of sons.’  He sends thanks for the engraved stones and the powers of Regency.  This might well have been James’s last news of Charles, for he was on his way to London, a perilous expedition. [101]

CHAPTER V
THE PRINCE IN LONDON; AND AFTER.—MADEMOISELLE LUCI
(SEPTEMBER 1750–JULY 1751)

The Prince went to London in the middle of September 1750; and why did he run such a terrible risk?  Though he had ordered great quantities of arms in June, no real preparations had been made for a rising.  His Highlanders—Glengarry, Lochgarry, Archy Cameron, Clanranald—did not know where he was.  Scotland was not warned.  As for England, we learn the condition of the Jacobite party there from a letter by Æneas Macdonald, the banker, to Sir Hector Maclean—Sir Hector whom, in his examination, he had spoken of as ‘too fond of the bottle.’ [103]  Æneas now wrote from Boulogne, in September 1750.  He makes it clear that peace, luxury, and constitutionalism had eaten the very heart out of the grandsons of the cavaliers.  There was grumbling enough at debt, taxes, a Hanoverian King who at this very hour was in Hanover.  Welsh and Cheshire squires and London aldermen drank Jacobite toasts in private.  ‘But,’ says Æneas, ‘there are not in England three persons of distinction of the same sentiments as to the method of restoring the Royal family, some being for one way, some for another.’  They have neither heart nor money for an armed assertion of their ideas.  In 1745, Sir William Watkins Wynne (who stayed at home in Wales) had not 200l. by him in ready money, and money cannot be raised on lands at such moments.  Yet this very man was believed to have spent 120,000l. in contested elections.  ‘It is very probable that six times as much money has been thrown away upon these elections’—he means in the country generally—‘as would have restored the King.’  Æneas knew another gentleman who had wasted 40,000l. in these constitutional diversions.  ‘The present scheme,’ he goes on, ‘is equally weak.’  The English Jacobites were to seem to side with Frederick, the Prince of Wales, in opposition, and force him, when crowned, ‘to call a free Parliament.’  That Parliament would proclaim a glorious Restoration.  In fact, the English Jacobites were devoured by luxury, pacific habits, and a desire to save their estates by pursuing ‘constitutional methods.’  These, as we shall see, Charles despised.  If a foreign force cannot be landed (if landed it would scarcely be opposed), then ‘there is no method so good as an attempt such as Terloch [Tearlach] made: if there be arms and money: men, I am sure, he will find enough. . . .  One thing you may take for granted, that Terloch’s appearance again would be worth 5,000 men, and that without him every attempt will be vain and fruitless.’  Æneas, in his examination, talked to a different tune, as the poor timid banker, distrusted and insulted by ferocious chieftains.

‘Terloch’ was only too eager to ‘show himself again’; money and arms he seems to have procured (d’Argenson says 4,000,000 francs!), but why go over secretly to London, where he had no fighting partisans?  There are no traces of a serious organised plan, and the Prince probably crossed the water, partly to see how matters really stood, partly from restlessness and the weariness of a tedious solitude in hiding, broken only by daily quarrels and reconciliations with the Princesse de Talmond and other ladies.

We find a curious draft of his written on the eve of starting.

‘Credentials given ye 1st.  Sept, 1750. to ye P. T.’ (Princesse de Talmond).

‘Je me flate que S.M.T.C. [Sa Majesté Très Chrétien] voudra bien avoire tout foi et credi à Madame La P. de T., ma chere Cousine, come si s’etoit mois-meme; particulierement en l’assurant de nouveau come quois j’ai ses veritable interest plus a cour que ses Ministres, etant toujours avec une attachemen veritable et sincere pour sa sacre persone.  C. P. R.’  (Charles, Prince Regent).

Again,

A Mr. Le Duc de Richelieu.

‘Je comte sur votre Amitié, Monsieur, je vous prie d’être persuade de la mienne et de ma reconnaissance.

‘All these are deponed, not to be given till farther orders.’

What use the Princesse de Talmond was to make of these documents, on what occasion, is not at all obvious.  That the Prince actually went to London, we know from a memorandum in his own hand.  ‘My full powers and commission of Regency renewed, when I went to England in 1750, and nothing to be said at Rome, for every thing there is known, and my brother, who has got no confidence of my Father, has always acted, as far as his power, against my interest.’ [105]

Of Charles’s doings in London, no record survives in the Stuart Papers of 1750.  We merely find this jotting:

‘Parted ye 2d. Sep.  Arrived to A. [Antwerp] ye 6th.  Parted from thence ye 12th. Sept.  E. [England] ye 14th, and at L. [London] ye 16th.  Parted from L. ye 22d. and arrived at P. ye 24th.  From P. parted ye 28th.  Arrived here ye 30th Sept.  If she [Madame de Talmond, probably] does not come, and ye M. [messenger] agreed on to send back for ye Letters and Procuration [to] ye house here of P. C. and her being either a tretor or a hour, to chuse which, [then] not to send to P. even after her coming unless absolute necessity order, requiring it then at her dor.’

On the back of the paper is:

‘The letter to Godie [Gaudie?] retarded a post; ye Lady’s being arrived, or her retard to be little, if she is true stille.’

Then follow some jottings, apparently of the lady’s movements.  ‘N.S. [New style] ye 16th. Sept.  Either ill counselled or she has made a confidence.  M. Lorain’s being here [the Duke of Lorraine, ex-King of Poland, probably, a friend of Madame de Talmond] ye 12th. Sept.  To go ye same day with ye King, speaking to W. [Waters?] ye last day, Madame A. here this last six weeks.’

These scrawls appear to indicate some communication between Madame de Talmond, the Duke of Lorraine, and Louis XV. [106]

In London Charles did little but espouse the Anglican religion.  Dr. King, in his ‘Anecdotes,’ tells how the Prince took the refreshment of tea with him, and how his servant detected a resemblance to the busts sold in Red Lion Square.  He also appeared at a party at Lady Primrose’s, much to her alarm. [107]  He prowled about the Tower with Colonel Brett, and thought a gate might be damaged by a petard.  His friends, including Beaufort and Westmoreland, held a meeting in Pall Mall, to no purpose.  The tour had no results, except in the harmless region of the fine arts.  A medal was struck, by Charles’s orders, and we have the following information for collectors of Jacobite trinkets.  The English Government, never dreaming that the Prince was in Pall Mall, was well informed about cheap treasonable jewellery.

‘Paris: August 31, 1750.

‘The Artist who makes the seals with the head of the Pretender’s eldest Son, is called le Sieur Malapert, his direction is hereunder, he sells them at 3 Livres apiece, but by the Dozen he takes less.

‘It is one Tate, who got the engraving made on metal, from which the Artist takes the impression on his Composition in imitation of fine Stones of all colours.  This Tate was a Jeweller at Edinborough, where he went into the Rebellion and having made his escape, has since settled here, but has left his wife and Family at Edinborough.  He is put upon the list of the French King’s Bounty for eight hundred Livres yearly, the same as is allowed to those that had a Captain’s Commission in the Pretender’s Service and are fled hither.  It is Sullivan and Ferguson who employ Tate to get the 1,500 Seals done, he being a man that does still Jeweller’s business and follows it.  The Artist has actually done four dozen of seals, which are disposed of, having but half a dozen left.  He expects daily an order for the said quantity more—As there are no Letters or Inscription about it, the Artist may always pretend that it is only a fancy head, though it is in reality very like the Pretender’s Eldest Son.’ [108]

Oddly enough, we find Waters sealing, with this very intaglio of the Prince, a letter to Edgar, in 1750.  It is a capital likeness.

Wise after the event, Hanbury Williams wrote from Berlin (October 13, 1750) that Charles was in England, ‘in the heart of the kingdom, in the county of Stafford.’  By October 20, Williams knows that the Prince is in Suffolk.  All this is probably a mere echo of Charles’s actual visit to London, reverberated from the French Embassy at Berlin, and arriving at Hanbury Williams, he says, through an Irishman, who knew a lacquey of the French Ambassador’s.  In English official circles no more than this was known.  Troops were concentrated near Stafford after Charles had returned to Lorraine.  Hume told Sir John Pringle a story of how Charles was in London in 1753, how George II. told the fact to Lord Holdernesse, and how the King expressed his good-humoured indifference.  But Lord Holdernesse contradicted the tale, as we have already observed.  If Hume meant 1750 by 1733 he was certainly wrong.  George was then in Hanover.  In 1753 I have no proof that Charles was in London, though Young Glengarry told James that the Prince was ‘on the coast’ in November 1752.  If Charles did come to London in 1753, and if George knew it, the information came through Pickle to Henry Pelham, as will appear later.  Hume gave the Earl Marischal as his original authority.  The Earl was likely to be better informed about events of 1752–1753 than about those of September 1750.

After Charles’s departure from London, the English Government received information from Paris (October 5, 1750) to the following effect:

‘Paris: October 5, 1750.

‘It is supposed that the Pretender’s Son keeps at Montl’hery, six leagues from Paris, at Mr. Lumisden’s, or at Villeneuve St. Georges, at a small distance from Town, at Lord Nairn’s; Sometimes at Sens, with Col.  Steward and Mr. Ferguson; when at Paris, at Madme. la Princesse de Talmont’s, or the Scotch Seminary; nobody travels with him but Mr. Goring, and a Biscayan recommended to him by Marshal Saxe: the young Pretender is disguised in an Abbé’s dress, with a black patch upon his eye, and his eyebrows black’d.

‘An Officer of Ogilvie’s Regimt. in this Service listed lately.  An Irish Priest, who belonged to the Parish Church of S. Eustache at Paris, has left his Living, reckoned worth 80l. St. a year, and is very lately gone to London to be Chaplain to the Sardinian Minister: he has carried with him a quantity of coloured Glass Seals with the Pretender’s Son’s Effigy, as also small heads made of silver gilt about this bigness [example] to be set in rings, as also points for watch cases, with the same head, and this motto round “Look, Love, and follow.”’ [110]

On October 30, Walton wrote that James was much troubled by a letter from Charles, doubtless containing the news of his English failure; perhaps notifying his desertion of the Catholic faith.  On January 15, 1751, Walton writes that James has confided to the Pope that Charles is at Boulogne-sur-Mer, which he very possibly was.  On January 9 and 22, Horace Mann reports, on the information of Cardinal Albani, that James and the Duke of York are ill with grief.  ‘Something extraordinary has happened to the Pretender’s eldest son.’  He had turned Protestant, that was all.  But Cardinal Albani withdraws his statement, and thinks that nothing unusual has really occurred.  In fact, Charles, as we shall see, had absolutely vanished for three months.

Charles returned to France in September 1750, and renewed his amantium irae with Madame de Talmond.  Among the Stuart Papers of 1750 are a number of tiny billets, easily concealed, and doubtless passed to the lady furtively.  ‘Si vous ne voulez, Reine de Maroc, pas cet faire, quelle plaisir mourir de chagrin et de desespoire!’

‘Aiez de la Bonté et de confience pour celui qui vous aime et vous adore passionément.’

To some English person:

‘Ask the Channoine where you can by hocks [buy hooks!] and lines for fishing, and by a few hocks and foure lines.’ [111]

The Princess writes:

‘Je partirai dimanche comme j’ai promis au Roy de Pologne’ (Stanislas).  ‘Je vous embrasse bien tendrement, si vous êtes tel que vous devez être à mon égard.’  She is leaving for Commercy.  On the reverse the Prince has written, ‘Judi.  Je comance a ouvrire mes yeux a votre egar, Madame, vous ne voulez pas de mois, ce soire, malgre votre promes, et ma malheureuse situation.’

The quarrels grew more frequent and more embittered.  We have marked his suspicious view of the lady’s movements.  On September 26, 1750, she had not returned, and he wrote to her in the following terms.

The Prince.

September 26, 1750.

‘Je pars, Madame, dans L’instant, en Sorte que vous feriez reflection, et retourniez au plus vite, tout doit vous Engager, si vous avez de l’amitié pour mois, Car je ne puis pas me dispenser de vous repeter, Combien chaque jour de votre absence faira du tor a mes affaier outre Le desire d’avoire une Coinpagnie si agréable dans une si triste solitude, que ma malheureuse situation m’oblige indispensablement de tenire.  J’ai cessé [?] des Ordres positive a Mlle. Luci, de ne me pas envoier La Moindre Chose meme une dilligence come aussi de mon cote je n’en veres rien, jusqu’a ce que vous soiez arrive.

‘Quant vous partires alors Mdll. Luci vous remettera tout ce quil aura pour mois, vous rien de votre cote que votre personne.’

On the same paper Charles announces his intention of going instantly to ‘Le Lorain.’  There must have been a great quarrel with Madame de Talmond, outwearied by the exigencies of a Prince doomed to a triste solitude after a week of London.  On September 30 he announces to Waters that there will be no news of him till January 15, 1751.  For three months he disappears beyond even his agent’s ken.  On October 20 he writes to Mademoiselle Luci, styling himself ‘Mademoiselle Chevalier,’ and calling Madame de Talmond ‘Madame Le Nord.’  The Princesse de Talmond has left him, is threatening him, and may ruin him.

‘Le October 20, 1750.

‘A Mll. Luci: Mademoiselle Chevalier est tres affligee de voir le peu d’egard que Madame Lenord a pour ses Interest.  La Miene du 12 auroit ete La derniere mais cette dame a ecrit une Letre en date du 18 a M. Le Lorrain qui a choqué cette Demoiselle [himself], Et je puis dire avec raison quelle agit come Le plus Grand de ses ennemis par son retard, elle ajoute encor a cela des menaces si on La presse d’avantage, et si l’on se plain de son indigne procedé.  Md. Poulain seroit deja partit, et partiroit si cette dame lui en donnoit Les Moiens.  Je ne puis trop vous faire connoitre Le Tort que Md. Lenord fait a cette demoiselle en abandonant sa société et La risque qu’elle fait courir a Md. de Lille qui par La pouroit faire banqueroute.

‘A Mdll. La Marre.
   Chez M. Lecuyer tapisse [Tapissier].
      Grande Rue Garonne, Faubourg
         St. Germain à Paris.

‘Vous pouvez accuser La reception de cette Lettre par Le premier Ordinaire a M. Le Vieux [Old Waters].

‘Adieu Mdll.

‘Je vous embrace de tout mon Cour.’

On November 7 Charles writes again to Mademoiselle Luci: the Princesse de Talmond is here la vieille tante: now estranged and perhaps hostile.  Madame de la Bruère is probably the wife of M. de la Bruère, whom Montesquieu speaks highly of when, in 1749, he was Chargé d’Affaires in Rome. [113]

‘Le 7 Nov. 1750.

‘Mdlle. Luci,—Je suis fort Etone Mademoiselle qu’une fame de cette Age qu’a notre Tante soi si deresonable.  Elle se done tout La paine immaginable pour agire contre Les interets de sa niece par son retard du payment dont vous m’avez deja parlé.

‘Voici une lettre que je vous prie de cachete, et d’y mettre son adress, et de l’envoier sur Le Champ a Madame de Labruière.  Il est inutile d’hors en avant que vous communiquier aucune Chose de ce qui regard Mlle. Chevalier [himself], a Md. la Tante [Talmond] jusqu’a ce que Elle pense otrement, car, il n’est que trop cler ques es procedes sont separés et oposés à ce qui devroit etre son interet.  Je vous embrace de tout mon Coeur.’

These embraces are from the supposed Mademoiselle Chevalier.  There is no reason to suppose a tender passion between Charles and the girl who was now his Minister of Affairs, Foreign and Domestic.  But Madame de Talmond, as we shall learn, became jealous of Mademoiselle Luci.

His deeper seclusion continues.

Madame de Talmond, in the following letter, is as before, la tante.  The ‘merchandise’ is letters for the Prince, which have reached Mademoiselle Luci, and which she is to return to Waters, the banker.

‘Le 16 Nov. 1750.

‘A Mdll. Luci: Je vous ai écrit Mademoiselle, Le 7, avec une incluse pour Md. de La Bruière, je vous prie de m’en accuser la reception à l’adresse de M. Le Vieux [Old Waters], et de me donner des Nouvelles de M. de Lisle [unknown]; pour se que regarde Les Marchandises de modes que vous avez chez vous depuis que j’ai en Le plaisir de vous voire et que cette Tante [Madame de Talmond] veut avoire l’indignité d’en differer le paiement, il faut que vous les renvoiez au memes Marchands de qui vous Les avez reçu et leur dire que vous craignez ne pas avoir de longtems une occasion favorable pour Les débiter, ainsi qu’en attendant vous aimez mieux quelles soieut dans leurs mains que dans Les votres.  Je vous embrasse de tout mon Coeur.’

By November 19, Charles is indignant even with Mademoiselle Luci, who has rather tactlessly shown the letter of November 7 to Madame de Talmond, la tante, la vieille Femme.  Oh, the unworthy Prince!

Charles’s epistle follows:

19th Nov.

‘Je suis tres surprise, Mademoiselle, de votre Lettre du 15, par Laquelle vous dites avoire montres a la tante une Lettre touchant les Affaires de Mdlle. Chevalier, cependant la mienne du 7 dont vous m’accuses La reception vous marquoit positivement Le contraire, Mr. De Lisle ne voulant pas qu’on parlet a cette vieille Femme jesqu’a ce qu’elle changeat de sentiment, et qu’elle paix la somme si necessaire à son Commerce.  Ne vous serriez vous pas trompée de l’adresse de l’incluse pour la jeune Marchande de Mdlle. La bruière—Vous devez peut ete La connoitre; si cela est, je vous prie de me le Marquer et d’y remedier au plutot.  Enfin Mademoiselle vous me faites tomber des nues et les pauvrétés que vous me marquez sont a mépriser.  Elles ne peuvent venir que de cette tante, ce sont des couleurs qui ne peuvent jaimais prendre.

‘Adieu Mdlle., n’attendez plus de mes nouvelles jusqu’a ce que le paiement soit fait.  Soiez Toujours assurée de ma sincere amitié.’

Charles’s whole career, alas! after 1748, was a set of quarrels with his most faithful adherents.  This break with his old mistress, Madame de Talmond, is only one of a fatal series.  With Mademoiselle Luci he never broke: we shall see the reason for this constancy.  His correspondence now includes that of ‘John Dixon,’ of London, a false name for an adherent who has much to say about ‘Mr. Best’ and ‘Mr. Sadler.’  The Prince was apparently at or near Worms; his letters went by Mayence.  On December 30 he sends for ‘L’Esprit des Lois’ and ‘Les Amours de Mlle. Fanfiche,’ and other books of diversified character.  On Decemuber 31, his birthday, he wrote to Waters, ‘the indisposition of those I employ has occasioned this long silence.’  Mr. Dormer was his chief medium of intelligence with England.  ‘Commerce with Germany’ is mentioned; efforts, probably, to interest Frederick the Great.  On January 27, 1751, Mademoiselle Luci is informed that la tante has paid (probably returned his letters), but with an ill grace.  Cluny sends an account of the Loch Arkaig money (only 12,981l. is left) and of the loyal clans.  Glengarry’s contingent is estimated at 3,000 men.  In England, ‘Paxton’ (Sir W. W. Wynne) is dead.  On February 28, 1751, Charles is somewhat reconciled to his old mistress.  ‘Je me flatte qu’en cette Nouvelle Année vous vous corrigerez, en attendant je suis come je serois toujours, avec toutte la tendresse et amitié possible, C. P.’

It is, of course, just possible that, from October 1750 to February 1751, Charles was in Germany, trying to form relations with Frederick the Great.  Goring, under the name of ‘Stouf,’ was certainly working in Germany.  Sir Charles Hanbury Williams at Berlin wrote on February 6, 1751, to the Duke of Newcastle:

‘Hitherto my labours have been in vain.  But I think I have at present hit upon a method which may bring the whole to light.  And I will here take the liberty humbly to lay my thoughts and proposals before Your Grace.  Feldt Marshal Keith has long had a mistress who is a Livonian, and who has always had an incredible ascendant over the Feldt Marshal, for it was certainly upon her account that his brother, the late Lord Marshal, quitted his house, and that they now live separately.  About a week ago (during Feldt Marshal Keith’s present illness) the King of Prussia ordered that this woman should be immediately sent out of his dominions.  Upon which she quitted Berlin, and is certainly gone directly to Riga, which is the place of her birth.  Now, as I am well persuaded that she was in all the Feldt Marshal’s secrets, I would humbly submit it to Your Grace, whether it might not be proper for His Majesty to order his Ministers at the Court of Petersburgh to make instance to the Empress of Russia, that this woman might be obliged to come to Petersburgh, where, if proper measures were taken with her, she may give much light into this, and perhaps into other affairs.  The reason why I would have her brought to Petersburgh is, that if she is examined at Riga, that examination would probably be committed to the care of Feldt Marshal Lasci, who commands in Chief, and constantly resides there, and I am afraid, would not take quite so much pains to examine into the bottom of an affair of this nature, as I could wish . . .

‘C. Hanbury Williams.

It is not hard to interpret the words ‘proper measures’ as understood in the land of the knout.  The mistress of Field Marshal Keith could not be got at; she had gone to Sweden, and this chivalrous proposal failed.  The woman was not tortured in Russia to discover a Prince who was in or near Paris. [118]

At the very moment when Williams, from Berlin, was making his manly suggestion, Lord Albemarle, from Paris (February 10, 1751), was reporting to his Government that Charles had been in Berlin, and had been received by Frederick ‘with great civility.’  The King, however, did not accede to Charles’s demand for his sister’s hand.  This report is probably incorrect, for Charles’s notes to Mademoiselle Luci at this time indicate no great absence from the French capital.

On February 17, 1751, the English Government, like the police, ‘fancied they had a clue.’  The Duke of Bedford wrote to Lord Albemarle, ‘His Majesty would have your Excellency inform M. Puysieux that you have it now in your power to have the Young Pretender’s motions watched, in such a manner as to be able to point out to him where he may be met with; and that his Majesty doth therefore insist that, in conformity to the treaties now subsisting between the two nations he be immediately obliged to leave France. . . .  He must be sent by sea, either into the Ecclesiastical States, or to such other country at a distance from France, as may render it impossible for him to return with the same facility he did before.’ [119]

These hopes of Charles’s arrest were disappointed.

On March 4, young Waters heard of the Prince at the opera ball in Paris.  He sent the Prince a watch from the Abbess of English nuns at Pontoise.  Charles was always leaving his watches under his pillow.  He certainly was not far from Paris.  He scolded Madame de Talmond for returning thither (March 4), and sent to Mademoiselle Luci a commission for books, such as ‘Attilie tragedie’ (‘Athalie’) and ‘Histoire de Miss Clarisse, Lettres Anglaises ‘(Richardson’s ‘Clarissa’), and ‘La Chimie de Nicola’ (sic).  Mademoiselle Luci, writing on March 5, tells how the Philosophe (Montesquieu,), their friend, has heard a Monsieur Le Fort boast of knowing the Prince’s hiding-place.  ‘The Philosophe turned the conversation.’  The Prince answers that Le Fort is très galant homme, but a friend of la tante (Madame de Talmond), who must have been blabbing.  He was in or near Paris, for he corresponded constantly with Mademoiselle Luci.  The young lady assures him that some new philosophical books which he had ordered are worthless trash.  ‘L’Histoire des Passions’ and ‘Le Spectacle de l’Homme’ are amateur rubbish; ‘worse was never printed.’

The Prince now indulged in a new cypher.  Walsh (his financial friend) is Legrand, Kennedy is Newton (as before), Dormer at Antwerp (his correspondent with England) is Mr. Blunt, ‘Gorge in England’ (Gorge!) is Mr. White, and so on.  Owing to the death of Frederick, Prince of Wales, there was a good deal of correspondence with ‘Dixon’ and ‘Miss Fines’—certainly Lady Primrose—while Dixon may be James Dawkins, or Dr. King, of St. Mary’s Hall, Oxford.  On May 16, Charles gave Goring instructions as to ‘attempting the Court of Prussia, or any other except France, after their unworthy proceedings.’  Goring did not set out till June 21, 1751.  From Berlin the poor man was to go to Sweden.  In April, Madame de Talmond was kind to Charles ‘si malheureux et par votre position et par votre caractère.’  Mademoiselle Luci was extremely ill in May and June, indeed till October; this led to a curious correspondence in October between her and la vieille tante.  Madame de Talmond was jealous of Mademoiselle Luci, a girl whom one cannot help liking.  Though out of the due chronological course, the letters of these ladies may be cited here.

From Madame de Beauregard (Madame de Talmond) to Mademoiselle Luci.

‘October 19, 1751.

‘The obstinacy of your taste for the country, Mademoiselle, in the most abominable weather, is only equalled by the persistence of your severity towards me.  I have written to you from Paris, I have written from Versailles, with equal success—not a word of answer!  Whether you want to imitate, or to pay court to our amie [the Prince] I know not, but would gladly know, that I may yield everything with a good grace, let it cost what it will.  As a rule it would cost me much, nay, all, to sacrifice your friendship.  But I have nothing to contest with old friends, who are more lovable than myself.  On my side I have only the knowledge and the feeling of your worth, which require but discernment and justice.  From such kinds of accomplishments as these, you are dispensed.  So serious a letter might be tedious without being long, but it is saddened also by the weary weight of my own spirits.  Will you kindly give me news of your health and of your return to town?  I am sorry that Paris does not interest me; I am going to Fontainebleau at the end of the week.’

Mademoiselle Luci replies with dignity.

‘October 22, 1751.

‘Madame,—A fever, and many other troubles, have prevented me from answering the three letters with which you have honoured me.  Permit me to mingle a few complaints with my thanks!  Were I capable of the sentiments which you attribute to me, I could not deserve your flattering esteem.  Its expressions I should be compelled to regard merely as an effort of extreme politeness on your side.  Assuredly, Madame, I am strongly attached to Madame your friend [the Prince]; for her I would suffer and do everything short of stooping to an act of baseness.  If, Madame, you have not found in me virtues which will assure you of this, at least trust my faults!  My character is not supple.  The one thing which makes my frankness endurable is, that it renders me incapable of conduct for which I should have to blush.  Believe, then, Madame, that I can preserve my friendship for your friend, without falling, as you suspect, into the baseness of paying court to her [the Prince], in spite of the respect which I owe to you.’

The letters of the ladies (in French) are copied by the Prince’s hand, nor has he improved the orthography.  I therefore translate these epistles.

On July 10, 1751, after a tremendous quarrel with Madame de Talmond, Charles wrote out his political reflections.  France must apologise to him before he can enter into any measures with her Court.  ‘I have nothing at heart but the interest of my country, and I am always ready to sacrifice everything for it, Life and rest, but the least reflection as to ye point of honour I can never pass over.  There is nobody whatsoever I respect more as ye K. of Prussia; not as a K. but as I believe him to be a clever man.  Has he intention to serve me?  Proofs must be given, and ye only one convincive is his agreeing to a Marriage with his sister, and acknowledging me at Berlin for what I am.’  He adds that he will not be a tool, ‘like my ansisters.’

Such were Charles’s lonely musings, such the hopeless dreams of an exile.  He had now entered on his attempt to secure Prussian aid, and on a fresh chapter of extraordinary political and personal intrigues.

CHAPTER VI
INTRIGUES, POLITICAL AND AMATORY.  DEATH OF MADEMOISELLE LUCI, 1752

We have seen that Charles’s hopes, in July 1751, were turned towards Prussia and Sweden.  To these Courts he had sent Goring in June.  Meanwhile a new and strange prospect was opening to him in England.  On the right bank of Tweed, just above Ashiesteil, is the ruined shell of the old tower of Elibank, the home of the Murrays.  A famous lady of that family was Muckle Mou’d Meg, whom young Harden, when caught while driving Elibank’s kye, preferred to the gallows as a bride.  In 1751 the owner of the tower on Tweed was Lord Elibank; to all appearance a douce, learned Scots laird, the friend of David Hume, and a customer for the wines of Montesquieu’s vineyards at La Brède.  He had a younger brother, Alexander Murray, and the politics of the pair, says Horace Walpole, were of the sort which at once kept the party alive, and made it incapable of succeeding.  Their measures were so taken that they did not go out in the Forty-five, yet could have proved their loyalty had Charles reached St. James’s in triumph.  Walpole calls Lord Elibank ‘a very prating, impertinent Jacobite.’ [125]  As for the younger brother, Alexander Murray, Sir Walter Scott writes, in his introduction to ‘Redgauntlet,’ ‘a young Scotchman of rank is said to have stooped so low as to plot the surprisal of St. James’s Palace and the assassination of the Royal family.’

This was the Elibank plot, which we shall elucidate later.

In the spring and summer of 1751, Alexander Murray had lain in Newgate, on a charge of brawling at the Westminster election.  He was kept in durance because he would not beg the pardon of the House on his knees: he only kneeled to God, he said.  He was released by the sheriffs at the close of the session, and was escorted by the populace to Lord Elibank’s house in Henrietta Street.  He then crossed to France, and, in July 1751, ‘Dixon’ (Dr. King?) thus reports of him to Charles:

‘My lady [Lady Montagu or Lady Primrose?] says that M. [Murray] is most zealously attached to you, and that he is upon all occasions ready to obey your commands, and to meet you when and where you please . . .  He assures my lady that he can raise five hundred men for your service in and about Westminster.’

These men were to be used in a plot for seizing the Royal family in London.  This scheme went on simmering, blended with intrigues for Prussian and Swedish help, and, finally, with a plan for a simultaneous rising in the Highlands.  And this combination was the last effort of Jacobitism before the general abandonment of Charles by his party.

The hopes, as regarded Prussia, were centred in Frederick’s friend, the brother of Marshal Keith, the Earl Marischal.  The Earl was by this time an old man.  At Queen Anne’s death he had held a command in the Guards, and if he had frankly backed Atterbury when the bishop proposed to proclaim King James, the history of England might have been altered, and the Duke of Argyll’s regiment, at Kensington, would have had to fight for the Crown. [126]  The Earl missed his chance.  He fought at Shirramuir (1715), and he with his brother, later Marshal Keith, was in the unlucky Glensheil expedition from Spain (1719).  That endeavour failed, leaving hardly a trace, save the ghost of a foreign colonel which haunts the roadside of Glensheil.  From that date the Earl was a cheery, contented, philosophic exile, with no high opinion of kings.  Spain was often his abode, where he found, as he said, ‘his old friend, the sun.’  In 1744 he declined to accompany the Prince, in a herring-boat, to Scotland.  In the Forty-five he did not cross the Channel, but, as we have seen, endeavoured to wring men and money from d’Argenson.  In 1747 the Earl, then at Treviso, declined to be Charles’s minister on the score of ‘broken health.’ [127a]  Charles, as we saw, vainly asked the Earl for a meeting at Venice in 1749.  Indeed, Charles got nothing from his adherent but a mother-of-pearl snuff-box, with the portrait of the old gentleman. [127b]  The Earl dwelt, not always on the best terms, with his brother, Marshal Keith, at Berlin, and was treated as a real friend, for a marvel, by Frederick.

On July 20 the Earl had seen Goring at Berlin, and wrote to Charles.  Nothing, he said, could be done by Swedish aid.  If Sweden moved, Russia would attack her, nor could Frederick, in his turn, assail Russia, for Russia and the Empress Maria Theresa would have him between two fires. [127c]  Frederick now (August 1751) took a step decidedly unfriendly as regarded his uncle of England.  He sent the Earl Marischal as his ambassador to the Court of Versailles.  This was precisely as if the United States were to send a banished Fenian as their Minister to Paris.  The Earl was proscribed for treason in England, and, as we shall see, his house in Paris became the centre of truly Fenian intrigues.  On these the worthy Earl was wont to give the opinion of an impartial friend.  All this was known to the English Government, as we shall show, through Pickle, and the knowledge must have strained the relations between George II. and ‘our Nephew,’ as Horace Walpole calls Frederick of Prussia.

The Earl’s household, when he left Potzdam in August 1751 for Paris, is thus described by Voltaire: ‘You will see a very pretty little Turkess, whom he carries with him: they took her at the siege of Oczakow, and made a present of her to our Scot, who seems to have no great need of her.  She is an excellent Mussalwoman: her master allows her perfect freedom of conscience.  He has also a sort of Tartar Valet de chambre [Stepan was his name], who has the honour to be a Pagan.’ [128a]  On October 29, Voltaire writes that he has had a letter from the Earl in Paris.  ‘He tells me that his Turk girl, whom he took to the play to see Mahomet [Voltaire’s drama] was much scandalised.’

Voltaire was to receive less agreeable news from the friend of Frederick.  ‘Some big Prussian will box your ears,’ said the Earl Marischal, after Voltaire’s famous quarrel with his Royal pupil.

The appointment of an attainted rebel to be Ambassador at Versailles naturally offended England.  The Duke of Newcastle wrote to Lord Hardwicke: [128b]

‘One may easily see the views with which the King of Prussia has taken this offensive step: first, for the sake of doing an impertinence to the King; then to deter us from going on with our negotiations in the Empire, for the election of a King of the Romans, and to encourage the Jacobite party, that we may apprehend disturbances from them, if a rupture should ensue in consequence of the measures we are taking abroad.’  He therefore proposes a subsidy to Russia, to overawe Frederick.

At Paris, Yorke remonstrated.  Hardwicke writes on September 10, 1751:

‘I am glad Joe ventured to say what he did to M. Puysieux,’ but ‘Joe’ spoke to no purpose.

James was pleased by the Earl Marischal’s promotion and presence in Paris.  Charles, at first, was aggrieved.  He wrote:

‘L. M. coming to Paris is a piece of French politics, on the one side to bully the people of England; on the other hand to hinder our friends from doing the thing by themselves, bambouseling them with hopes. . . .  They mean to sell us as usual. . . .  The Doctor [Dr. King] is to be informed that Goring saw Lord Marischal, but nothing to be got from him.’

The Prince mentions his ‘distress for money,’ and sends compliments to Dawkins, ‘Jemmy Dawkins,’ of whom we shall hear plenty.  He sends ‘a watch for the lady’ (Lady Montagu?).

I venture a guess at Lady Montagu, because Dr. King tells, as a proof of Charles’s avarice, that he took money from a lady in Paris when he had plenty of his own. [130a]

Now, on September 15, 1751, Charles sent to Dormer a receipt for ‘One Thousand pounds, which he paid me by orders for account of the Right Honourable Vicecountess of Montagu,’ signed ‘C. P. R.’ [130b]  Again, on quitting Paris on December 1, 1751, he left, in a coffer, ‘2,250 Louidors, besides what there is in a little bag above, amounting to about 130 guines, and od Zequins or ducats.’  These, with ‘a big box of books,’ were locked up in the house of the Comtesse de Vassé, Rue St. Dominique, Faubourg de St. Germain, in which street Montesquieu lived.  The deposit was restored later to Charles by ‘Madame La Grandemain,’ ‘sister’ of Mademoiselle Luci.  In truth, Charles, for a Prince with an ambition to conquer England, was extremely poor, and a loyal lady did not throw away her guineas, as Dr. King states, on a merely avaricious adventurer.  Charles (August 25, 1751) was in correspondence with ‘Daniel Macnamara, Esq., at the Grecian Coffee-house, Temple, London,’ who later plays a fatal part in the Prince’s career.

This is a private interlude: we return to practical politics.

No sooner was the Earl Marischal in Paris than Charles made advances to the old adherent of his family.  He sent Goring post-haste to the French capital.  Goring, who already knew the Earl, writes (September 20, 1731): ‘My instructions are not to let myself be seen by anybody whatever but your Lordship.’  The Earl answers on the same day: ‘If you yourself know any safe way for both of us, tell it me.  There was a garden belonging to a Mousquetaire, famous for fruit, by Pique-price, beyond it some way.  I could go there as out of curiosity to see the garden, and meet you to-morrow towards five o’clock; but if you know a better place, let me know it.  Remember, I must go with the footmen, and remain in coach as usual, so that the garden is best, because I can say, if it came possibly to be known, that it was by chance I met you.’

‘An ambassador,’ as Sir Henry Wotton remarked, ‘is an honest man sent to lie abroad for his country,’ an observation taken very ill by Gentle King Jamie. [131]

Goring replied that the garden was too public.  The night would be the surest time.  Goring could wear livery, or dress as an Abbé.  The Tuileries, when ‘literally dark,’ might serve.  On September 23, the Earl answers, ‘One of my servants knows you since Vienna.’  Goring, as we know, had been in the Austrian service.  ‘I will go to the Tuileries when it begins to grow dark, if it does not rain, for it would seem too od that I had choose to walk in rain, and my footman would suspect, and perhaps spye.  I shall walk along the step or terrace before the house in the garden.’ [132a]

So difficult is it for an ambassador to dabble in treasonable intrigue, especially when old, and when the weather is wet.  Let us suppose that Goring and the Earl met.  Goring’s business was to ask if the Earl ‘has leave to disclose the secret that was not in his power to do, last time you saw him.  I am ready to come myself, and meet him where he pleases.’

Meetings were difficult to arrange.  We read, in the Prince’s hand:

To Lord M. from Goring.

‘18th Oct. 1751.

‘Saying he had received an express from the Prince with orders to tell him [Lord M.] his place of residence, and making a suggestion of meeting at Waters’s House.

‘Answer made 18th. Oct. by Lord M.

‘You may go to look for Lace as a Hamborough Merchant.  I go as recommended to a Lace Shop by Mr. Waters and shall be there as it grows dark, for a pretence of staying some time in the house you may also say you are recommended by Waters.

‘Mr Vignier Marchand de Doreure rue du Route, au Soleil D’or.  Paris.’

(Overleaf.)

‘18th Oct 1751.

‘I shall be glad to see you when you can find a fit place, but to know where your friend is is necessary unfit.  Would Waters’s house be a good place?  Would Md Talmont’s, mine is not, neither can I go privately in a hackney coach, my own footman would dogg me, here Stepan knows you well since Vienna.’  (Stepan was the Tartar valet.)