Chapter II: Introduction

In _Le Matin_ of March 17, 1913, appeared the following article, with which we will begin the account of some abridged documents.

“While examining the Archives of the Office of Foreign Affairs,
a young historian, M. Maugras, has unearthed a very curious
love-story, deposited by the ‘guilty couple’s’ own hands,
relating to the Duke of Orleans, later Philippe-Egalité, and
the governess of his children, the virtuous and pedagogic Mme.
de Genlis.[1]

“In consequence of this _liaison_, Mme. de Genlis was made
Captain of the Guards; and the ‘governess’ of the future
Louis-Philippe and Mme. Adélaïde gave birth to two charming
little daughters, who were brought up in England and known as
Pamela and Miss Campton.

“Mme. de Genlis was also the mother of a legitimate daughter,
who later on married M. de Valence. Mme. de Valence was to have
for her son-in-law the Maréchal Gérard, lineal ancestor of the
brilliant poetess, Rosemonde Gérard.

“On the other hand, Miss Campton married a Gascon, M. Collard,
and was grandmother to Marie Cappelle (Mme. Lafarge).

“Thus, by legitimate descent, Mme. de Genlis is the ancestress
of Rosemonde Rostand, and, illegitimate, of Mme. Lafarge.

“The latter wrote six thousand letters, not to speak of her
_Mémoires_ and her _Heures de Prison_.

“As for the author of the play, _Un Bon Petit Diable_, ‘he’
proposed nothing less than to tune his pipe to all history and
legend, in spite of what his own descent might imply.…

“The heritage of the Governess of the Children of France has
not fallen to the distaff side.”

The next day, March 18, the same journal published this other article, which impartiality obliges us to reproduce here—

“Through the assiduous researches of a pious inquirer into the
things of the past, the _Mercure de France_ has just published
a touching series of letters, written by Mme. Lafarge from
her prison at Montpellier, to her Director, l’Abbé Brunet,
residing in the Bishop’s Palace at Limoges. This is a twofold
revelation, in that it testifies both to the delicate skill
of the writer and the innocence of the accused, but the
correspondence is unfortunately incomplete.

“Some of these letters were given to M. Boyer d’Agen by M.
Albris Body, Keeper of the Records at Spa in Belgium; others
were discovered amongst the posthumous papers of Zaleski, the
classic poet of the Ukraine; those that remain are doubtless
buried in the dusty catacombs of some library.… It could be
wished that one of those lucky chances which are the providence
of the erudite might allow of their disinterment.”

To complete this and prove something definite, these two quotations ought to be accompanied by a third which I take from one of the letters given by _Le Matin_, in which the celebrated Mme. Lafarge ventures to disclose the secret reason for her notorious misfortunes by at last revealing the mystery of her illegitimate origin, which, through the house of Orleans, of which her grandmother was issue, made her a near relation of Louis-Philippe, who during his reign, moved by fear, permitted the trial of this cousin by blood, whom he dared not have acquitted after ten years of imprisonment.

“The Queen charged the Maréchale Gérard,” writes Marie Cappelle in this painful confession, “to tell me that she would make it her business to interest herself in me. She went herself to speak to the Ministers. It was last spring (1848), and the men condemned for the riots at Basanceney had just been executed. The Ministers said that there would be an outcry, that it would get mixed up with politics; _that the left-handed relationship_ that was suspected would be exploited by parties and newspapers. In the month of August there was some hope; but the Praslin affair put a stop to everything. Now, I don’t know what has become of the goodwill of our saintly Queen; I don’t know if the Maréchale (Gérard) seriously means to carry out all the provisions of her poor mother’s (Mme. de Valence) bequest. I have not written to her. It is painful to me to address prayers to men; I scorn to ask for pardon when I have the right to ask for justice.”

The rest is known. Four years later, on June 1, 1852, Napoleon III opened a door Louis-Philippe had kept closed during the whole of his reign, and Marie Cappelle left her prison at Montpellier to go and die of exhaustion, four months later, at the little hot-spring town of Ussat, which could not give her back her lost life.

For my part, I was counting, letter by letter, the steps to Calvary climbed by this poor woman, and which, letter by letter, may be followed in a forthcoming book which is to contain all that I have been able to collect to the honour of this possessor of so fine an intelligence and so polished a style; when, all of a sudden, the episode of Marie Cappelle reminded me of that of Lorenzo Chiappini—with the house of Orleans as the origin of those doubtful births and as the clue to these yet unsolved historical enigmas.

What was the Orleans Chiappini affair?

* * * * *

In the spring of 1902 I was rummaging amongst the Archives of the Vatican, of whose secular secrets Pope Leo XIII, of august memory, had made an end by opening them to the world of inquirers, with no fear that the dangerous resurrection of this Lazarus of history would be for that liberal Pontiff—as it was for the Divine Miracle-worker of Bethany—the prelude to the maledictions of a scandalized Sanhedrin, and to another painful Passion—a renewal of that of old.

While waiting for the _crucifigation_ of the Pharisees—those lovers of darkness and the unfathomable crimes of secret history—I took pleasure, as a simple Publican and lover of the light, in admiring the daylight making its cheerful way under the corniced vaults of the _Archivio Segreto_, and disclosing those files of dusty manuscripts, which, each stripping off his registered shirt, emerge naked from the tomb at the call of the first passer-by who, recognizing his dead, simply says, “Come forth!” and they come.

Standing before those desks over those deep tomblike cases of archives wherein slumber the secrets of the dead, my ears open to the miraculous, “Lazarus, come forth!” which the patient seekers for silent memories are prepared to utter at the turning of each yellow leaf, I let my dreaming eye, that afternoon, rest upon a ray of that Roman sunshine, as, with its soft radiance, it gave life to the solitude of a vault, scattering its riches broadcast through the windows, prodigal as the gambler staking with both hands just for the pleasure of playing, and losing.

“I’ve been using in your service the time you waste here!” said a searcher in this Vatican vault, as he came and sat down at my work-table. He is one who knows all the treasures of the place, since he has frequented it for over thirty years, working for the most learned of the best Reviews—the _Civilta Cattolica_, to which my honourable colleague is one of the most authoritative contributors.… “Well, what do they say in Paris about Louis-Philippe?”

“That he has been dead for some time!” I could not help answering, with a laugh at this not over-retrospective interruption.

“But is it known how he was born?” continued my interlocutor, more mysteriously than if he were simply talking nonsense; and without another word, “Here!” he added; “read this letter. I found it amongst the papers of Cardinal Joseph Albani, whom the celebrated Secretary of State Chateaubriand used to visit during his Embassy to Rome, and of whom he has left, in his _Mémoires d’outre-Tombe_, a witty enough portrait. Read this document; it is well worth while.” In the Secret Archives of the Vatican it is inscribed (B. 43242, anno 1830)—

CARDINAL MACCHI to CARDINAL ALBANI, Secretary of State.

“_Ravenna, Nov. 19, 1830._

“EMˢˢⁱᵐᵉ MAÎTRE,

“Enclosed in this letter you will find a copy of the decision,
given on May 29, 1824, by the Episcopal Tribunal of Faenza,
in favour of the Lady Maria Newborough, Baronne de Sternberg,
by the terms of which it is declared that this person is the
daughter of the Comte and the Comtesse de Joinville, and not
the daughter of the two Chiappinis. The documents concerning
this affair are pretty numerous, but there is no mention
made of the Orleans family. It is true that the aforesaid
title of Joinville belongs to that Royal Family, and is borne
at the present time, if I am not mistaken, by the daughter,
born fourth of the family. It is true, likewise, that it is
generally believed here that the Comte de Joinville was no
other than the famous Duc d’Orléans-Egalité.

“Moreover, not only is there no proof that the Duc d’Orléans
was travelling in Italy in 1773, but, on the contrary, we read
in his biography that in 1778 he travelled in Italy in the
company of the Duchess.

“I notice, besides, that Lady Newborough was born at Modigliana
on April 17, 1773, and that the present King of France was born
six months later. How, then, could the supposed exchange have
been managed? It seems to me that this is a mere fable which
might, and not a little, compromise us. I should advise your
Eminence to claim those documents from the Tribunal of Faenza,
so as to keep them from the public eye and in Rome.

“Having thus carried out your esteemed orders, I pray your
Eminence to accept the humble expression of the profound
respect with which, etc.

“Signed: V. CARDINAL MACCHI.”

“But,” said I, as I returned the folio to its obliging discoverer, “it seems to me that this letter is conclusive, and that the Louis-Philippe Chiappini case is settled as soon as heard.”

“Precisely, because it has not yet been heard. You are stopping your ears, like the _Eminentissimo_ Macchi, Cardinal-Legate of Ravenna, who did not want to hear any more of the affair. But no, no!—and besides, you haven’t the same excuse. Would you like, in connection with this letter, to read the document that goes with it? It is the Italian text of the sentence solemnly pronounced by the Episcopal Tribunal of Faenza, on the 29th of May, 1824; fifty years after this criminal business; all surviving witnesses heard; all inquiries scrupulously made; the Holy Trinity invoked in the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost.…”

“The devil!” I ventured to exclaim, at a matter beginning with so sacramental a formula.

And I read in Italian what I am going to give here in a translation, and the number of which, 43-242, is that of its place in the Secret Archives of the Vatican.

“Having invoked the most holy Name of God:

“We, seated in our Tribunal, and having before our eyes
nothing but God and justice, by our final decision from the
pleadings of the lawyers and the documents, we deliver judgment
on the action or actions debated before us in the inferior
or any other higher Court, between her Excellency Marie
Newborough-Sternberg, the Plaintiff, on the one part, and M. le
Comte Charles Bandini on the other, acting as legally delegated
trustee to represent M.M. le Comte Louis and la Comtesse de
Joinville, and any other absent person who has, or claims to
have, any interest in the case; these two parties to it having
submitted to jurisdiction, in default of the _Excellentissime_
M. le Docteur Thomas Chiappini, domiciled at Florence, who has
not so submitted himself.

“Whereas, before our Episcopal Curia acting as a Tribunal
competent to judge the ecclesiastic cases named below submitted
to their jurisdiction, the Plaintiff has asked that orders may
be given, by means of suitable alteration, to correct her
baptismal certificate, etc.

“That, on the part of the delegated Trustee Defendant, it
is asked that the Plaintiff’s claim should be rejected and
the costs repaid. That the other proper Defendant, Doctor
Chiappini, has not submitted to jurisdiction, though, according
to the custom of this Curia, he has been twice summoned by a
Sheriff of the Episcopal Tribunal of Florence, and that the
report of contumacy has been added to the decision on the suit.

“Considering the documents, etc.

“Having heard the respective counsel, etc.

“Whereas Lorenzo Chiappini, being near his end, did, in a
letter which was given to the Plaintiff after the decease of
the aforesaid Chiappini, reveal to the same Plaintiff the
secret of her birth, by clearly making known to her that she
was not his daughter, but the daughter of a person he declared
he could not name.

“That it has been legally acknowledged by the experts that this
letter is written in the hand of Lorenzo Chiappini.

“That the word of a dying man is proof in full, since he has no
longer any interest in lying, and it is to be presumed that he
is thinking only of his eternal salvation.

“That such a confession ought to be looked upon as a solemn
oath, and as a bequest made for the good of his soul and his
own salvation.

“That the Trustee would vainly endeavour to deprive the said
letter of its force, on account of its containing no indication
as to who were the real father and mother of the Plaintiff;
since although, in fact, such indication is really wanting,
recourse has been had, on the part of this same Plaintiff, to
the testimony of witnesses, to presumptions and conjectures.

“That, where there exists in writing a beginning of proof, as
in the present case, it is allowable, even in State questions,
to introduce testimonial proof and all other evidence.

“That if, in questions of State, after the original written
proof, that by means of witnesses is admissible; there is still
stronger reason to accept the same proof in this case when a
document is produced to be used in the question of State.

“Whereas, from the sworn legal depositions of the sisters,
Maria and Dominica Bandini, it is clearly shown that there
was an agreement between M. le Comte and le Sieur Chiappini to
exchange their respective children, should Mme. la Comtesse
give birth to a girl and Chiappini’s wife to a boy; that the
agreed exchange did really take place, the case having been
provided for; that the girl was baptized in the church of the
Priory at Modigliana, by the name of Maria Stella, and falsely
registered as the daughter of the Chiappini couple.

“Whereas the said witnesses swear as to the time of the
exchange as coinciding with that of the Plaintiff’s birth.

“Whereas, the Trustee, likewise in vain, urges the
improbability of this evidence; since, not only no
improbability is to be met with in the witnesses’ statement,
but, on the contrary, it is upheld and verified by a great
number of other presumptions and conjectures.

“That one very forcible conjecture is deduced by the public
voice and the rumours which were then spread as to the fact of
the exchange.

“Whereas, this rumour is proved, not only by the testimony of
the aforesaid sisters Bandini, but also by the attestation
of M. Dominique Della Valle, and that of other witnesses in
Brisighella and Ravenna, all equally judicially examined in
their own towns and before their respective tribunals.

“That the vicissitudes to which M. le Comte was exposed are a
convincing proof of the reality of the exchange.

“That there is documentary proof that in consequence of the
rumours spread abroad in Modigliana concerning the exchange in
question, the Comte de Joinville was forced to leave that place
and take refuge in the Convent of St. Bernard at Brisighella;
that having gone out for a walk, he was arrested, taken to, and
kept some time in, the Public Palace of Justice of Brisighella,
and that afterwards he was conducted by the Swiss Guards of
Ravenna before his Eminence the Cardinal-Legate, who set him at
liberty, etc., etc.

“Whereas, Querzani, of Brisighella, swears to having shaved a
great French nobleman who was for some time living in seclusion
in the Convent of St. Bernard at Brisighella.

“Whereas, in the evidence of the aforesaid Della Valle, he
declares that, while he was assisting in making out the
inventory of the aforesaid Convent of St. Bernard, he saw two
letters signed ‘le Comte de Joinville’; that one of these was
dated from Modigliana, and that in it the writer thanked the
Abbot of St. Bernard’s for having allowed him to retire into
his convent; that, in the other letter, dated from Ravenna, the
same correspondent tells of his liberation to the same Abbot;
that both these letters bore the date of 1773.

“Whereas, one of the soldiers charged with the surveillance
of the Count at Brisighella during his stay at the Palace of
Justice of that town, is still living, which soldier has given
evidence on the subject judicially and of his own free will.

“That M. le Comte Nicolas Biancoli-Borghi testifies in his
judicial examination that, while he was looking through old
papers of the Borghi house, he came upon a letter written from
Turin to M. le Comte Pompeo-Borghi, the date of which he could
not remember, signed Louis C. Joinville, which said that the
_exchanged child was dead and that there was now nothing more
to fear on its account_.

“Whereas, the same Count Biancoli-Borghi alleges his own
knowledge to be the motive of his evidence, etc.

“That the exchange is proved also by the change in the fortunes
of Chiappini, etc.

“That in fact, after this event, Chiappini paid ready money
for the cereals needed for the support of his family, and that
he bought them at the Borghi place of business, while before
that time he had discharged his debts by the giving up of his
monthly pay; which Biancoli-Borghi testifies to having found as
a fact in the books of the Borghi firm.

“Whereas, it is proved beyond doubt by many documents that
Chiappini, after he retired to Florence, acquired means that
enabled him to live at ease, as the sisters Bandini and other
witnesses testify.

“Whereas, the Sieur Della Valle asserts that he saw Chiappini
at Florence in flourishing circumstances, and that, moreover,
the same Chiappini spoke of the exchange to a certain Sieur D.
Bandini of Verifolo who was often in his company, as the same
Bandini declared to Della Valle.

“Whereas, the Plaintiff received an education suited to her
distinguished rank, and not such as would have been given to
the daughter of a jailer, etc., etc.

“That, it clearly follows in view of all the matters up to now
alleged and of many others existing in the documents, that
Maria Stella was falsely described in her certificate of birth
as being the daughter of the Chiappini husband and wife, and
that she owes her birth to M. le Comte and Mme. la Comtesse de
Joinville.

“That, in consequence, it is a matter of justice to grant the
correction of the certificate of birth now claimed by this same
Maria Stella.

“Finally, that M. le Docteur Chiappini, instead of opposing the
claim, is guilty of contumacy.

“Having repeated the most holy Name of God, we declare,
decree, and give final judgment, that the pleas of the
aforesaid delegated Trustee must be rejected, as we reject
them; we desire and order that they be held as annulled; and,
in consequence, we have declared, decreed and given final
judgment, that the certificate of birth of April 17, 1773,
inscribed in the Baptismal Registers of the Prioral Church of
St. Stephen, Pope and Martyr, at Modigliana, in the Diocese
of Faenza, wherein Maria Stella is described as the daughter
of Lorenzo Chiappini and Vincenzia Viligenti, be corrected;
and that, on the contrary, she is to be described as the
daughter of M. le Comte Louis and Mme. la Comtesse N. de
Joinville, French; to which end we have likewise decreed that
the rectification in question shall be executed officially by
our Registrar, also empowering M. le Prieur, of the Church of
St. Stephen, Pope and Martyr, at Modigliana, in the Diocese of
Faenza, to give copies of the rectified and corrected paper to
all such as may ask for it, etc.

“LE CHANOINE PRÉVOT,

“VALERIO BOSCHI, PRO-VICAIRE GÉNÉRAL.”

“The devil! the devil!” I repeated, astonishment increasing by leaps and bounds in the face of two such grave and contradictory statements. Was the Cardinal of Ravenna wrong? Was the Bishop of Faenza right? And did one ever see a scarlet-clad Eminence break a more vigorous rod over the violet-clad shoulders of a Counsel of Prelates than this reversion of a decree so solemnly pronounced, a few years earlier, before a plenary court of all the officers of a diocese?

“You forget,” answered my colleague, “that the then Legate of Ravenna had been Nuncio at Paris under Charles X, and a special friend of the King’s. So great a friend that the pasquinades on the Conclaves of 1829 and 1830, at which this Cardinal was present, always called him the ‘_Joueur de Gherardo della Notte_,’ in memory of the royal card-parties at the château, where this ex-Nuncio was always the favoured partner. He was so loaded with presents, that the distended skirts of the prelate’s gown became legendary in Paris as in Rome. And the least he could do amidst the amplitude of the cloth out of which he had shaped such a gown, was for the Cardinal Macchi to attempt later to shield the honour of the new King that, in this same 1830, Charles X, on abdicating, had left to France. But however deep they be, the well-furnished pockets of a modern Cardinal can’t take the place of the ancient _oubliettes_ of history.”

“True! true!”

“To throw light upon this strange business, there is more than the affirmations of the Ecclesiastical Tribunal of Faenza and the denials of the Cardinal-Legate of Ravenna. There is a heap of proofs got together by the plaintiff in a voluminous memoir. Lady Newborough, Baronne de Sternberg, wanted it to be published in Italian and French at the same time. But the date of 1830, chosen for these startling revelations, was also that when the person principally interested mounted the throne of France. Is it to be wondered at that these compromising documents were at once destroyed wherever the representatives of the King Louis-Philippe could find them?”

“And then?”

“Then, there existed, and exists, a copy, thank God! Written in an elegant and easy hand, it once more proves the distinction of its author, as well as the sincerity of her words. You will easily discover the Italian text at Recanati, in the celebrated house of the Leopardis; for the Count Monaldo, father of the great poet Giacomo Leopardi, was not afraid of preparing an edition of this document for the edification of his contemporaries speaking the same tongue. The French text, which the supposed daughter of Philippe-Egalité undertook to publish in your language, and which she signed with the actual name of Joinville, which had at the first concealed the criminal _incognito_, would perhaps be more difficult to recover in France after the hunt for it But here is a copy which will console you for the loss of the rest. Shall we look through it together?”

“Certainly; it is enough that the Vatican should shelter such noble victims within the silence of its protecting walls, without Herod having to impeach the Pope for his guilty connivance in a repetition of the Massacre of the Innocents.”

So here we are in the presence of Lady Newborough’s Memoirs, which relate that she was born on April 17, 1773, at Modigliana; her supposed father being Lorenzo Chiappini, _sbirro_, or factotum, to the Count Borghi. Her supposed mother was one Vincenzia Viligenti, attached, as _concierge_, to the kind of prison of which her husband was warder.

This birth took place at the precise time that a certain Comte de Joinville and the Comtesse, his wife, who were staying at the Palazzo Borghi, opposite the prison of which Chiappini was warder, had also a child born to them. The child of Chiappini was baptized on the very day of its birth under the names of Maria Petronilla; _that of the Comte de Joinville does not appear in the Baptismal Registers of the Parish of San Stefano_, common to both families.

Maria Petronilla, always ignorant of her true origin and problematic destiny, lived until she was four years old between the indifference of her mother, who gave all her love to her other children, and the marked affection of the Countess Borghi, who greatly appreciated the natural distinction of the little girl, quite incompatible with so low an origin.

But the lowly estate of the Chiappinis improving day by day, Maria was only four years old when she had to leave for Florence, the Grand Duke having summoned the humble warder of the Modigliana prison to unhoped-for good fortune there.

Maria Stella’s education kept pace with the growing prosperity of her father Lorenzo.

When the little girl had learnt enough of dancing and accomplishments, her father got her an engagement as ballet-dancer in a large theatre in the town.

Scarcely of marriageable age, she had first to spurn and then to accept the passionate addresses of an elderly English nobleman, who asked her hand. The parents granted what the daughter refused, and one day, against her will, Maria Petronilla became the wife of Lord Newborough.

Lady Newborough’s Memoirs continue as tales of travel up to the page wherein she records the death of Lorenzo Chiappini, with this autograph letter from the dying man.

“MILADY,

“I have come to the end of my days without having ever revealed
to any one a secret which directly concerns you and me.

“This is the secret.

“The day you were born of a person I must not name, and who
has already passed into the next world, a boy was also born to
me. I was requested to make an exchange, and, in view of my
circumstances at that time, I consented after reiterated and
advantageous proposals; and it was then that I adopted you as
my daughter, as in the same way my son was adopted by the other
party.

“I see that Heaven has made up for my fault, since you have
been placed in a better position than your father’s, although
he was of almost similar rank; and it is this that enables me
to end my life in something of peace.

“Keep this in your possession, so that I may not be held
totally guilty. Yes, while begging your forgiveness for my sin,
I ask you, if you please, to keep it hidden, so that the world
may not be set talking over a matter that cannot be remedied.

“Even this letter will not be sent to you till after my death.

“LORENZO CHIAPPINI.”

“Stranger and still stranger!”

“This letter, sent through the post from Florence to Lady Newborough, then at Siena, about the middle of December 1821, was the beginning of the lengthy investigations to which this daughter of noble but unknown parents henceforth entirely devoted herself. You must read the rest of the Memoirs, of which I venture to recommend whole pages to your consideration. Here is an extract—

“‘After leaving my two eldest sons,’ writes Lady Newborough,
‘I took the road to Rome, where I had already made the
acquaintance of Cardinal Consalvi, who showed me the greatest
kindness. By his order, all the archives were thrown open to
me; everything was examined into, not only in the capital, but
in the country round about the Apennines; but everywhere the
answer was the same: “Nothing whatever has been discovered;
everything must have been destroyed during the Revolution.”

“‘Seeing that there was nothing to be done there, I set out
for Faenza, where I was informed that the Count Borghi was
absent, and that, moreover, it would be useless for me to see
him, as he had declared that he would never tell me anything at
all. I heard even that he had threatened the old servant-women
with the withholding of their modest pensions if they had the
ill-luck of speaking to me. But they could not restrain their
longing to see me or the cry of their consciences. Their first
words when they met me were a simultaneous exclamation of “O
Dio! how like you are to the Comtesse de Joinville!”

“‘I joyfully welcomed them and treated them kindly; and having
implored them to acquaint me with the details concerning my
birth, they at last consented to speak perfectly openly.

“‘“Our father, Nicholas Bandini,” they told me, “at the age of
seventeen entered the Borghi mansion as chief steward, and
never left it till his death. We also were taken on there in
our youth as maids to the Countess Camilla. That lady, with her
son, the Count Pompeo, was in the habit of spending a good part
of the year at the castle at Modigliana, and in the beginning
of the spring of 1773 we accompanied them there.

“‘“On our arrival we found, already established in the
Pretorial Palace, a French couple, called the Comte Louis
and the Comtesse Joinville. The Comte had a fine figure, a
rather brown complexion, and a red and pimpled nose. As to the
Comtesse, you can see almost her perfect image in your own
person, milady.

“‘“Being such near neighbours, the greatest intimacy soon
came to pass between them and our masters. Every day the two
families met, sometimes at one house, sometimes at the other.

“‘“The foreign stranger was extremely familiar with people of
the lowest rank, especially with Chiappini, the jailer, who
lived under the same roof. As it happened, both their wives
were then _enceinte_, and the two confinements appeared to be
imminent.

“‘“But the Comte was seriously anxious; his wife had not yet
given him a male child; and he was intensely uneasy lest he
should never have one, when of this very fear was born an idea,
both barbarous and advantageous. First he broached the subject
to the Count Pompeo and his mother, from a very charming point
of view; then he endeavoured to worm himself more and more into
the warder’s confidence, and ended by telling him that seeing
himself about to lose a great inheritance absolutely dependent
on the birth of a son, he was quite willing, in case he should
have a daughter, to exchange her for a boy, whose father he
would largely recompense.

“‘“The man who listened to his words, delighted to find
unlooked-for luck at so appropriate a moment, did not hesitate
for an instant; he accepted the offer, and the matter was
settled on the spot.

“‘“We know it,” the sisters Bandini went on, “because we
heard it with our own ears; and we know, too, that the event
justified the precautions taken; the Comtesse gave birth to a
daughter, and the other woman to a son. The news was brought
to our master, and one of us going into the Pretorial Palace
to see the newly-born children, was assured by some women of
the house that the exchange had really taken place. Chiappini,
who was present, confirmed it in his own words. Later on, the
Countess Camilla often repeated it to us; she used to say that
the Comtesse Joinville had been told all about it, and had
seemed quite content.

“‘“Soon after this abominable crime we ourselves saw the Comte
and the jailer on the best of terms; the first because he had
secured immense profit; the other because he had received
much money. Although silence had been promised, there were
indiscreet people, and public rumour soon accused the authors
of this horrible transaction. The Comte Louis, dreading the
general indignation of his accusers, fled and hid himself at
Brisighella, in the convent of St. Bernard. We knew he had been
arrested and then set at liberty, but we never saw him again.

“‘“The lady left with her servants and her reputed son,
while her own daughter, baptized by the name of Maria Stella
Petronilla, and described as belonging to Lorenzo Chiappini
and Vincenzia Viligenti, always remained with these last. Our
mistress was constantly distressed about this misfortune. To
repair it as much as possible she kept the unfortunate child
near her, caressing her and giving her all kinds of presents,
treating her not with ordinary friendliness, but with every
mark of ardent love. So she behaved to this child for the first
four years, that is to say till Chiappini took her with him
to Florence, where he had her educated, and where he bought
property with the price of his frightful bargain.”

“‘Thus spoke my venerable septuagenarians.

“‘Fully satisfied with their story, there seemed no need of
more, and that now it would be enough to appear before my
iniquitous parents and obtain from them just reparation.

“‘With this plan I set out for France with my third son,
his drawing-master, my maid, and my courier, a faithful and
intelligent servant.

“‘By the Sieur Fabroni’s advice, we went straight to Champagne,
and the mere name of the place led us to Joinville. I asked the
magistrates for information, and was told by them all that no
nobleman of the neighbourhood bore the name of their city, and
that it belonged solely to the Orleans family.

“‘After several attempts, which all had the same result, I went
to Paris, arriving on July 5, 1823. As a cleverly used ruse
may bring about an act of justice, and as the bait of riches
is nowadays the most powerful of motives, I had the following
advertisement inserted in several newspapers—

“‘“The widow of the late Count Pompeo Borghi has asked
Lady N. S. to find for her in France a certain Louis,
Comte Joinville, who, with the Comtesse, his wife, was
at Modigliana, a little town in the Apennines, where the
Comtesse gave birth to a son on the 16th of April, 1773. If
these two persons are still living, or the child born at
Modigliana, Lady N. S. has the honour to announce to them
that she has been empowered to make them a communication
of the highest interest. Supposing that these persons
can prove their identity, they have only to apply to the
Baronne de Sternberg, Hôtel de Belle-Vue, Rue de Rivoli.”

“‘Two days later appeared a colonel bearing the much-desired
name; I received him with the warmest welcome. He spoke,
recounting his various titles. Alas! the one that had at first
interested me so immensely was quite recent, and came to him
from Louis XVIII.

“‘At that moment I was told that M. l’Abbé de Saint-Fare
solicited the honour of an interview; the colonel looked much
astonished, and withdrew. In his place entered an enormous man,
wearing spectacles and supported by two footmen. As soon as he
was seated, the following conversation took place.

“‘“The Duke of Orleans, having seen your advertisement, has
this morning begged me to come and make inquiries about
this inheritance; for we presume that that is the matter
in question, and at the date you mention there was no one
in existence outside the family to whom the title of Comte
Joinville could belong.”

“‘“Was Monseigneur the Duke of Orleans born at Modigliana on
the 16th of April, 1773?”

“‘“He was born that year, but in Paris, on the 6th of October.”

“‘“Then I am very sorry that you should have taken the trouble
to come; for in that case he has no connection with the person
I am looking for.”

“‘“No doubt you have heard it said that the late Duke was very
gay with the fair sex, and the child in question might well be
that of one of his favourites.”

“‘“No, no, its legitimacy is incontestable.”

“‘“Could anything be more surprising! It is true, the late Duke
lived in the midst of mysteries.”

“‘“Could you not describe him to me, Monsieur?”

“‘“Willingly, madame. He was a fine man with a good leg; his
complexion was of a rather dark red, and, if it had not been
for the numerous pimples on his face, he would have been very
good-looking.”

“‘“And his character?”

“‘“What people principally admired in him was his extreme
affability to every one.”

“‘“Your description agrees exactly with that that was given me
of the Comte de Joinville.”

“‘“Then it must be supposed that it was the Duke himself.”

“‘“That can’t be if it is true that his son was born in Paris.”

“‘“May I ask you if there is a large sum to be had, and when?”

“‘“I am truly sorry not to be able to inform you; I am not at
liberty to say more.”

“‘During the whole of this conversation, the big abbé had never
left off looking at me in an almost offensive way; and, trying
to find out what was my native tongue, he had spoken now in
English, now in Italian, without being able to make up his
mind, in consequence of my speaking both languages equally well.

“‘After an hour’s talk, he took leave, asking my permission to
come again. I replied that I should be delighted to see him
again, and, in my turn, begged him to be so good as to make
inquiries amongst his many acquaintances.

“‘He kindly promised to do so, and added that he knew a very
aged lady from Champagne very well, and that she might be able
to give him much information, which he would transmit to me at
once.

“‘As nothing came of it, I sent M. Coiron, a teacher of French,
who was giving lessons in it to my son, to him.

“‘M. de Saint-Fare treated him politely, pleaded indisposition,
and made great protestations.

“‘On Coiron presenting himself a second time, he was received
very coldly, and simply told that nothing had been yet done.

“‘Moved by his own zeal and without my authority, he made a
third attempt. Then the abbé told him plainly that he might
discontinue his visits; that the lady knew nothing at all, and
that he himself did not want to have anything to do with this
fuss.

“‘Still, the first impression his visit made on me could not
be effaced. I procured a ticket, and went with my friends to
the Palais Royal. What was my surprise on seeing in some of
the portraits their extreme resemblance either to me or to
my children. My astonishment increased when my young Edward,
catching sight of a picture I had not yet noticed, exclaimed:
“Dieu! Maman, how much that face is like old Chiappini’s and
his son’s!”

“‘We discovered that it was actually the portrait of the
present Duke.…

“‘Thinking seriously over this, I realized that I owed to him
in fact the important service of being the first to tear the
impenetrable veil by deputing that Abbé de Saint-Fare, who, I
was told, was not only his great friend, but his natural uncle,
to see me.

“‘It will be believed that, from that moment, all my researches
went in the direction so clearly pointed out.…’

“The proofs Lady Newborough goes on heaping up in her startling Memoirs ought to be quoted as a whole,” ended my guide, as he tied up the heap of papers. “But that will need another sitting, longer than the first. Here is the sun beginning to set, and the custodian of the Archives of the Vatican inviting us to go. Will this historical puzzle awake your curiosity? In that case you will have to endeavour to reconcile these undeniable yet contradictory documents, since they repose in the shadow of these protecting walls, where you may read on the face of the _Archivio_ which Leo XIII set open for the truth of History, the proud device that bold and beneficent Pontiff had cut upon it when he invited the whole civilized world to enter its doors.

“‘_The first law of History is not to dare to lie; the second, not to fear to tell the truth; further, the historian must not lay himself open to a suspicion of either flattery or animosity._’

“The survivors of this domestic drama still draw breath at Modigliana and Brisighella, where Lorenzo Chiappini and Philippe-Egalité have left traces of their sojourn and their crime. At Glynllifon, in the Principality of Wales, the lineage of Lady Newborough, in the shape of her grandsons, still flourishes, if not the claims that died with her. Shall you go there, too, to examine into them?”

“Most assuredly,” I answered; “for the honour of the blood of France, which cannot lie, and of the truth which could not well serve a nobler cause than this.”

But, while waiting for the information which cannot fail to bring order and light into this still confused and perplexing affair, it was important that the actual text of these Memoirs, hunted for by those interested in them for nearly two-thirds of a century, so that there is scarcely a copy left that is not worth its weight in gold, should be put in reach of honest minds which have likewise a full right to form an opinion on a case of such barbarity and of such national interest.

But what was to be expected of a Philippe-Egalité, who, to secure the great inheritance of Penthièvre, and needing a male firstborn, did not hesitate to sacrifice his own legitimate daughter for it? Would he be likely, a few years later, to hesitate before voting for the death of Louis XVI, who could no longer do anything for him? Had he not shown the extent of his complaisance in his preference for Madame de Genlis over his wife, whose confidante the mistress became under the very roof of the infamous husband of one and lover of the other?

The Memoirs of de Genlis have been widely read; let the Memoirs of Maria Stella be read likewise. After that we can talk with better knowledge of the facts.

BOYER D’AGEN.

FIRST PART

FROM MY BIRTH TO THE DEATH OF HIM I CALLED MY FATHER