Celebrated Claimants from Perkin Warbeck to Arthur Orton Part 14

As she persisted in her refusal, she was given into custody for contempt of court, and the evidence of the Liverpool witnesses was taken. As Sir Roundell Palmer had stated, while one of the nurses remembered the transaction she could not be positive that Mrs. Howard was the party concerned in it; but the two others, and Mary Best the child's mother, had no hesitation in a.s.serting that she was the person who had taken away the infant from the hospital. Towards the close of the sitting it was announced that a telegram had been received from Boulogne, stating that the real purchasers of Mary Best's child had been found, and that they would be produced at the next hearing of the case to re-but the Liverpool evidence; but when the next sitting came no Boulogne witnesses were forthcoming, and the Solicitor-General was compelled to state that he had been on the wrong scent; but that he would be able to refute the story which had been trumped up against his client. Mary Best was placed in the witness-box, and, in the course of a rigorous cross-examination, admitted that she had left the workhouse with a baby which she had pa.s.sed off as her own. She stated that this child was given to her while she was in the workhouse, but she could not tell either its mother's name or the name of the person who gave it to her. She had never received any payment for it, but had fed and clothed it at her own expense, had taken it with her to her father's house in Yorkshire, had represented it as her own to her family, and had paid the costs of its burial when it died. Her relatives and friends were produced, and corroborated these facts. The nurses, on the other hand, when recalled, denied all knowledge of this second child, and affirmed that a child could not have been brought to her without their knowledge.

The court delivered judgment on the 31st of March, 1870, when the Lord Chancellor announced that their lordships had come to the conclusion that Charles Francis Arnold Howard had made out his claim, and was ent.i.tled to vote at the election of representative peers for Ireland as Earl of Wicklow; and that the infant claimant, the son of Mrs.

Howard, had failed in establishing his claim to that privilege. He said the marriage between Mr. and Mrs. Howard was undisputed, and the real difficulty that surrounded the case was in proving the birth of this child without the evidence usually forthcoming of such an event--neither medical man nor nurse having been present at the birth, or having attended either the mother or the child subsequently. The fact that the existence of the child had been concealed from all the world, and that it had neither been registered nor baptised, increased the difficulties in the way of Mrs. Howard's case. It was a remarkable fact that, up to that time, with the exception of three persons who had undoubtedly sworn distinctly to certain circ.u.mstances, no human being had been called who had noticed that Mrs. Howard had shown signs of being in the family-way; and it was equally remarkable that those who had had ample opportunity of noticing her condition at the time, and who might have given distinct and positive evidence on the point, had either not been called, or had refused to give evidence in the case. Undoubtedly, as far as words could go, their lordships had had the distinct evidence of two witnesses, who stated that they were present when the alleged birth occurred, and of another who had stated that he had gone to fetch the doctor, who was sent for, not because the birth was expected to occur, but because Mrs. Howard was taken suddenly ill. Of course, if credence could be given to the statement of these witnesses, the case put forward by Mrs. Howard was established beyond a doubt, and most painful it was for him to arrive at the conclusion, as he felt bound to do, that those persons had been guilty of the great crime of not only giving false evidence by deposing to events that had never occurred, but of conspiring together to endeavour to impose upon the Wicklow family a child who was not the real heir to the t.i.tle and estates attaching to the earldom. He was bound to add that the demeanour of Mrs. Bloor and her sister Rosa Day in the witness-box, was such that, if the case were not of such prodigious importance, and if it had not been contradicted by all surrounding circ.u.mstances, their statement, which they had given with firmness and without hesitation, would have obtained credence. It was, however, so utterly inconsistent with all the admitted facts, and with the rest of the evidence, that he was compelled to arrive at the painful conclusion that it was a mere fabrication, intended to defeat the ends of justice. The evidence of Dr. Baker Brown, who had identified Mrs. Howard as the person whom he had examined, on the 8th of July, 1864, and who had stated to him that she had never had a child, was very strong, and was only to be explained upon the supposition that it was a case of mistaken ident.i.ty; and that it was her sister Jane Richardson, who was examined, and not Mrs. Howard. This supposition, however, was entirely set aside by the Longney witnesses, who stated that upon the occasion of the birth-day dinner party at Longney, which had been brought forward to prove an _alibi_, both Mrs.

Howard and her sister Jane Richardson were present. It was evident, therefore, either that the story could not be true, or that the witnesses were mistaken as to the day on which that event had occurred, and under these circ.u.mstances the whole evidence in support of the _alibi_ broke down altogether. Having arrived at this conclusion with respect to the original case set up by Mrs. Howard, it was scarcely necessary to allude to the Liverpool story, which was certainly an extraordinary and a singular one, and had a tendency to damage the case of those who had set it up, although he did not see how they could possibly have withheld it from the knowledge of their lordships. Looking at the fact that Mary Best was proved to have been delivered of a fair child, and that the child she took out of the workhouse with her was a dark child, he confessed that much might be said both in favour of and against the truth of her statement; but it was, perhaps, as well that it might be entirely disregarded in the present case; and, at all events, in his opinion, there was nothing in its being brought forward which was calculated to shake their lordships' confidence in the character of those who were conducting the case on behalf of the original claimant.

Lord Chelmsford next delivered a long judgment, agreeing with that of the Lord Chancellor, and in the course of it remarked that it was impossible to disbelieve the story of the alleged birth, as he did, without coming to the conclusion that certain of the witnesses had been guilty of the grave crimes of conspiracy and perjury. With reference to the Liverpool story, he said he was satisfied that the child brought into the workhouse by Mary Best, and taken by her to Yorkshire, was not that of which she had been confined, although he did not believe her statement of the way in which she had become possessed of the child which she had subsequently pa.s.sed off as her own.

Lords Colonsay and Redesdale concurred; and the Earl of Winchelsea, as a lay lord, and one of the public, gave it as his opinion that the story told by Mrs. Howard was utterly incredible, being only worthy to form the plot of a sensational novel. He regretted that Mr. Baudenave, the princ.i.p.al mover in this conspiracy, would escape unscathed.

Their lordships, therefore, resolved that Mrs. Howard's child had no claim to the earldom; but that Charles Francis Arnold Howard, the son of the Hon. Rev. Francis Howard, by his second marriage, had made out his right to vote at the election of representative peers for Ireland as Earl of Wicklow.

AMELIA RADCLIFFE--THE SO-CALLED COUNTESS OF DERWENt.w.a.tER.

The unhappy fate of James, the last Earl of Derwent.w.a.ter, has been so often recounted, both in prose and verse, that it is almost unnecessary to repeat the story; but lest any difficulty should be found in understanding the grounds on which the so-called countess now bases her pretensions, the following short summary may be found useful:--

James Radcliffe, the third and last Earl of Derwent.w.a.ter, suffered death on Tower Hill, in the prime of his youth, for his devotion to the cause of the pretender. He is described as having been brave, chivalrous, and generous; his name has been handed down from generation to generation as that of a martyr; and his memory even yet remains green among the descendants of those amongst whom he used to dwell, and to whom he was at once patron and friend.

When he was twenty-three years of age he espoused Anna Maria, eldest daughter of Sir John Webb of Cauford, in the county of Dorset, and had by her an only son, the Hon. John Radcliffe, and a daughter, who afterwards married the eighth Lord Petre. By the articles at this time entered into, the baronet agreed to give his daughter 12,000 as her portion; while the earl, on his part, promised 1000 jointure rent charge to the lady, to which 100 a-year was added on the death of either of her parents, and an allowance of 300 a-year was also granted as pin-money. The earl's estates were to be charged with 12,000 for the portions of daughter or daughters, or with 20,000 in the event of there being no male issue; while by the same settlement his lordship took an estate for life in the family property, which was thereby entailed upon his first and other sons, with remainder, and after the determination of his or their estate to his brother, Charles Radcliffe, for life; on his first or other sons the estates were in like manner entailed.

If the Earl of Derwent.w.a.ter had been poor his Jacobite proclivities might have been overlooked, but he was very rich, and his head fell.

Moreover, after his decapitation on Tower Hill the whole of his immense property was confiscated, and given by the crown to the Commissioners of Greenwich Hospital. The commissioners of to-day a.s.sert that the property became the property of the representatives of the hospital absolutely. On the other hand, it is contended that, by the Act of Attainder, the property of forfeiting persons was vested in the crown only, according to their estate, rights, and interest, and that the earl, having only an estate for life in his property, could forfeit no greater interest.

His only son, although he lost his t.i.tle of n.o.bility by the attainder of his father, was, by solemn adjudication of law, admitted tenant in tail of all the settled estates, and the fortune of the earl's daughter was, moreover, raised and paid thereout. The earl's son was in possession of the estates during sixteen years; and, had he lived to attain twenty-one, he might have effectually dealt with them, so that they could not at any future time have been affected by the attainder of his father, or of his uncle Charles Radcliffe. At least so say the supporters of the self-styled countess.

Upon the death of the martyr-earl's son, in 1791, and presumably without issue, the life estate of Charles Radcliffe commenced, but it vested in the crown by reason of the attainder. Not so, however, the estate in tail of the eldest son, James Bartholomew. This boy was born at Vincennes, on the 23d of August, 1725; but by a statute pa.s.sed in the reign of Queen Anne, he had all the rights of a subject born in the United Kingdom; and, among others, of course, had the right to succeed to any property to which he might be legally ent.i.tled. But the government perceived the fix in which they were placed, and immediately, on the death of the son of the earl, and when James Bartholomew was an infant of the age of five years, they hurried an Act through Parliament which declared that nothing contained in the dictatory law of Queen Anne gave the privilege of a natural born subject to any child, born or to be born abroad, whose father at the time of his or her birth either stood attainted of high treason, or was in the actual service of a foreign state in enmity to the crown of Great Britain. This excluded the boy, and the government began to grant leases of the estates which would otherwise have fallen to him.

And now we begin to plunge into mystery. It is a.s.serted that the reported death of John Radcliffe, son of the last earl, was merely a scheme on the part of his friends to protect him against his Hanoverian enemies who sought his life. Some say that he died at the age of nineteen, at the house of his maternal grandfather, Sir John Webb, in Great Marlborough Street, on the 31st of December, 1731.

Others maintain that he was thrown from his horse, and killed, during his residence in France. But the most recent statement is that his interment was a sham, and was part of a well-devised plan for facilitating his escape from France to Germany during the prevalence of rumoured attempts to restore the Stuarts, and that, after marrying the Countess of Waldsteine-Waters, he lived, bearing her name, to the age of eighty-six.

By this reputed marriage it is said that he had a son, who was called John James Anthony Radcliffe, and who, in his turn, espoused a descendant of John Sobieski of Poland. To them a daughter was born, and was named Amelia. Her first appearance at the home of her supposed ancestors was very peculiar; and the report of her proceedings, which appeared in the _Hexham Courant_, of the 29th of September, 1868, was immediately transferred into the London daily papers, and was quoted from them by almost the entire provincial press. The following is the account of the local journal, which excited considerable amus.e.m.e.nt, but roused very little faith when it was first made public:--

"This morning great excitement was occasioned in the neighbourhood of Dilston by the appearance of Amelia, Countess of Derwent.w.a.ter, with a retinue of servants, at the old baronial castle of her ancestors--Dilston Old Castle--and at once taking possession of the old ruin. Her ladyship, who is a fine-looking elderly lady, was dressed in an Austrian military uniform, and wore a sword by her side in the most approved fashion. She was accompanied, as we have said, by several retainers, who were not long in unloading the waggon-load of furniture which they had brought with them, and quickly deposited the various goods and chattels in the old castle, the rooms of which, as most of our readers are aware, are without roofs; but a plentiful supply of stout tarpaulings, which are provided for the purpose, will soon make the apartments habitable, if not quite so comfortable as those which the countess has just left. In the course of the morning her ladyship was visited by Mr. C.J. Grey, the receiver to the Greenwich Hospital estates, who informed her she was trespa.s.sing upon the property of the commissioners, and that he would be obliged to report the circ.u.mstance to their lordships. Her ladyship received Mr. Grey with great courtesy, and informed that gentleman she was acting under the advice of her legal advisers, and that she was quite prepared to defend the legality of her proceedings. The sides of the princ.i.p.al room have already been hung with the Derwent.w.a.ter family pictures, to some of which the countess bears a marked resemblance, and the old baronial flag of the unfortunate family already floats proudly from the summit of the fine, though old and dilapidated tower."

This is a bald newspaper account; but the lady herself is an experienced correspondent, and in one of her letters, which she has published in a gorgeously emblazoned volume, thus gives her version of the affair in her own vigorous way:--

"DEVILSTONE CASTLE, 29_th September_, 1868.

"Here I am, my dear friend, at my own house, my roofless home; and my first scrawl from here is to the vicarage. You will be sorry to hear that the Lords of Her Majesty's Council have defied all equitable terms in my eleven years'

suffering case. My counsel and myself have only received impertinent replies from under officials. Had my lords met my case like gentlemen and statesmen, I should not have been driven to the course I intend to pursue.

"I left the Terrace very early this morning, and at half-past seven o'clock I arrived at the carriage-road of Dilstone Castle. I stood, and before me lay stretched the ruins of my grandfather's baronial castle; my heart beat more quickly as I approached. I am attended by my two faithful retainers, Michael and Andrew. Mr. Samuel Aiston conveyed a few needful things; the gentle and docile pony trotted on until I reached the level top of the carriage-road, and then we stopped. I dismounted and opened the gate and bid my squires to follow, and, in front of the old flag tower, I cut with a spade three square feet of green sod into a barrier for my feet, in the once happy nursery--the mother's joyful upstairs parlour--the only room now standing, and quite roofless. I found not a voice to cheer me, nothing but naked plasterless walls; a hearth with no frame of iron; the little chapel which contains the sacred tombs of the silent dead, and the dishonoured ashes of my grandsires.

"All here is in a death-like repose, no living thing save a few innocent pigeons, half wild; but there has been a tremendous confusion, a wild and wilful uproar of rending, and a crash of headlong havoc, every angle is surrounded with desolation, and the whole is a monument of state vengeance and destruction. But here is the land--the home of my fathers--which I have been robbed of; this is a piece of the castle, and the room in which they lived, and talked, and walked, and smiled, and were cradled and watched with tender affection. You never saw this old tower nearer than from the road; the walls of it are three feet or more in some parts thick, and of rough stone inside. The floor of this room where I am writing this scrawl is verdure, and damp with the moisture from heaven. It has not even beams left for a ceiling, and the stairs up to it are scarcely pa.s.sible; but I am truly thankful that all the little articles I brought are now up in this room, and no accident to my men.

"Radcliffe's flag is once more raised! and the portraits of my grandfather and great-grandfather are _here_, back again to Devilstone Castle (_alias_ Dilstone), and hung on each side of this roofless room, where both their voices once sounded. Oh! as I gaze calmly on these mute warders on the walls, I cannot paint you my feelings of the sense of injustice and wrong, a refining, a resenting sorrow--my heart bleeds at the thought of the cruel axe, and I am punished for its laws that no longer exist. I pray not to be horror-stricken at the thoughts of the past ambition and power of princes who cast destruction over our house, and made us spectacles of barbarity. But, nevertheless, many great and Christian men the Lord hath raised out of the house of Radcliffe, who have pa.s.sed away; and now, oh!

Father of Heaven! how wonderfully hast Thou spared the remnant of my house, a defenceless orphan, to whom no way is open but to Thy Fatherly heart. Now Thou hast brought me here, what still awaits me? 'Leave Thou me not; let me never forget Thee. Thou hast girded me with strength into the battle. I will not therefore fear what man can do unto me.'

"These are my thoughts and resolutions. But I am struggling with the a.s.sociations of this lone, lone hearth--with no fire, no father, no mother, sister or brother left--the whole is heartrending. I quit you now, my kind friends; I am blind with tears, but this is womanly weakness.

"Twelve o'clock the same day. My tears of excitement have yielded to counter-excitement. I have just had an intrusive visitor, who came to inquire if it is my intention to remain here. I replied in the affirmative, adding earnestly, 'I have come to my roofless home,' and asked 'Who are you?' He answered 'I am Mr. Grey, the agent for her Majesty, and I shall have to communicate your intention.' I answered, 'Quite right, Mr. Grey. Then what _t.i.tle_ have you to show that her Majesty has a right here to my freehold estates?'

He replied, 'I have no _t.i.tle_.' I then took out a parchment with the t.i.tles and the barony and manors, and the names of my forty-two rich estates, and held it before him and said, 'I am the Countess of Derwent.w.a.ter, and my t.i.tle and claim are acknowledged and substantiated by the Crown of England, morally, legally, and officially; therefore my t.i.tle is the t.i.tle to these forty-two estates.' He has absented himself quietly, and I do hope my lords will not leave my case now to under officials.--Yours truly, AMELIA, COUNTESS OF DERWENt.w.a.tER."

Their lordships left the case to very minor officials, indeed; namely to a person whom the countess describes as "a dusky little man" and his underlings, and they without hesitation ejected her from Dilstone Hall. The lady was very indignant, but was very far from being beaten, and she and her adherents immediately formed a roadside encampment, under a hedge, in gipsy fashion, and resolved to re-enter if possible.

From her letters it appears that she was very cold and very miserable, and, moreover, very hungry at first. But the neighbouring peasantry were kind, and brought her so much food eventually, that she tells one of her friends that cases of tinned meats from Paris would be of no use to her. The worst of the encampment seems to have been that it interfered with her usual pastime of sketching, which could not be carried on in the evenings under a tarpaulin, by the light of a lantern.

But her enemies had no idea that she should be permitted to remain under the hedge any more than in the hall itself. On the 21st of October, at the quarter sessions for the county of Northumberland, the chief constable was questioned by the magistrates about the strange state of affairs in the district, and reported that the encampment was a little way from the highway, and that, therefore, the lady could not be apprehended under the Vagrant Act! A summons, however, had been taken out by the local surveyor, and would be followed by a warrant.

On that summons the so-called countess was convicted; but appealed to the Court of Queen's Bench.

During the winter the encampment could not be maintained, and the weather, more powerful than the Greenwich commissioners, drove the countess from the roadside. But in the bright days of May she reappeared to resume the fight, and this time took possession of a cottage at Dilston, whence, says a newspaper report of the period, "it is expected she will be ejected; but she may do as she did before, and pitch her tent on the high-road." On the 30th of the same month, the conviction by the Northumberland magistrates "for erecting a hut on the roadside," was affirmed by the Court of Queen's Bench.

On the 17th November, 1869, while Mr. Grey was collecting the Derwent.w.a.ter rents, the countess marched into the apartment, at the head of her attendants, to forbid the proceedings. She was richly apparelled, but her semi-military guise did not save herself, or those who came with her, from being somewhat rudely ejected. Her sole consolation was that the mob cheered her l.u.s.tily as she drove off in her carriage.

On the 5th of January, in the following year, a great demonstration in her favour took place at Consett, in the county of Durham. A few days previously a large quant.i.ty of live stock had been seized at the instance of the countess, for rent alleged to be due to her, and an interdict had been obtained against her, prohibiting her from disposing of it. However, she defied the law, and in the midst of something very like a riot, the cattle were sold, flags were waved, speeches were made, and the moment was perhaps the proudest which the heiress of the Derwent.w.a.ters is likely to see in this country.

Such conduct could not be tolerated. The Lords of the Admiralty were roused, and formally announced that the claims of the so-called countess were frivolous. They also warned their tenants against paying their rents to her, and took out summonses against those who had a.s.sisted at the sale. On the 16th of January, the ringleaders in the disgraceful affair were committed for trial.

Notwithstanding this untoward _contretemps_, the countess made a further attempt, in February, to collect the rents of the forty-two freehold estates, which she said belonged to her. But the bailiffs were in force and resisted her successfully, being aided in their work by a severe snowstorm, which completely cowed her followers, although it did not cool her own courage. On the 11th of February, 1870, the Lords of the Admiralty applied for an injunction to prevent the so-called countess from entering on the Greenwich estates, and their application was immediately granted. Shortly afterwards the bailiff acting on behalf of the countess, and the ringleaders in the Consett affair, were sentenced to short terms of imprisonment. Thus those in possession of the property could boast a decided victory.

But the law courts are free to all, and the countess determined to take the initiative. She had jewels, and pictures, and doc.u.ments which would at once prove her ident.i.ty and the justice of her claim.

Unfortunately they were all in Germany, and the lady was penniless. By the generosity of certain confiding gentlemen, about 2000 was advanced, on loan, to bring them to this country. They came, but their appearance was not satisfactory even to the creditors, who became clamorous for their money. There was only one way left to satisfy them, and Amelia, of Derwent.w.a.ter, took it. The jewels and pictures were brought to the hammer in an auction-room in Hexham--the countess disappeared from public ken, and the newspapers ceased to chronicle her extraordinary movements.

ARTHUR ORTON--WHO CLAIMED TO BE SIR ROGER CHARLES DOUGHTY TICHBORNE, BART.

The case of Arthur Orton is too recent to need many words of introduction. We have hardly yet cooled down to a sober realization of the facts which, as they stand, mark the latest and most bulky of the claimants, as not only the greatest impostor of modern or perhaps of any days, the base calumniator who endeavoured to rob a woman of her fair fame to gratify his own selfish ends, but as a living proof of the height to which the blind credulity of the public will now and again elevate itself. Arthur Orton is in prison undergoing what all thinking men must admit to be a very lenient sentence--a sentence which in no way meets the justice of the case; for the advent of this huge carcase lumbering the earth with lies was nothing less than a misfortune to the people of England. And the word misfortune, if used even in its highest and widest sense, will in no way imply that which has happened to a peaceful family, who have been a.s.sociated with their lands and t.i.tles as long as our history goes back, and who have had their privacy violated, and the sanct.i.ty of their homes invaded; who have been pilloried before a ruthless and unsympathising mob, who have had their women's names banded from one coa.r.s.e mouth to another, and who--least misfortune of all--have had to expend large sums of money, and great amounts of time and trouble, to free themselves from a persecution as unparalleled as it was vicious and cruel. Those who, having neither fame nor fortune to lose, speak lightly and think not at all of the sorrows which were launched avalanche-like upon the devoted heads of the Tichbornes and their connections, would do well to ponder over what such personation as that of Arthur Orton means to its immediate victims. It means a sudden derangement of all the ties and sympathies by which life is made dear, a sudden shock which never in life will be recovered. There is no member of the community, no matter how well and how carefully he has chosen his path in life, who would not fear to have his every action published and criticised, his every motive a.n.a.lysed unfairly, and the most mischievous construction placed upon each deed or thought found capable of perversion. How much more terrible would it be, then, for any man to know that his wife or mother was to be subjected to such ordeal; that for no fault committed, for nothing but the delectation of an unscrupulous scoundrel and his admirers, a tender and sensitive lady was to be put to torture far worse than any physical punishment could ever have been, even in ages and countries whose only refinement was that of cruelty?

Arthur Orton is in prison, but there are still many who loudly a.s.sert their belief in his ident.i.ty with the lost Sir Roger; there are others who are quite as strong in their avowals of doubt as to the name found for the huge mystery being the correct one; and there are again others who, caring little who or what the man may be, affect to credit many of his most villanous utterances. But do these people in their blind impetuosity ever give the merits of the case one thought? do they remember that Orton was detected in his every lie, and found as heinously guilty as man can be detected and found guilty, when the evidence against him admits of but circ.u.mstantial proof? They do not; and like the man who constantly avers that the earth is flat, and his congeners who deny the existence of a Being who is apparent in every one of His marvellous works, the believers in Orton must be placed in the catalogue of those who, either of malice prepense, or from mental affliction, take the wrong view of a subject as naturally as sparks fly upwards. If the man now in prison is Sir Roger Tichborne, then trial by jury, the selection of our judges, and the whole basis of our legal system--indeed, of almost every system by which calm and peaceful government is maintained, and the right of the subject duly regarded--must be radically wrong, and right is wrong also. If he is not Arthur Orton, then there never was an Arthur Orton, and Wapping is a place which has no existence out of the annals of the Tichborne trial.

The baronetcy of Tichborne, now Doughty-Tichborne, is not only old of itself, and connected with vast estates, but is held by a family well known in the history of this country, even as far as that history goes. No _parvenu_, whose rank is the result of success in cheesemongering or kindred pursuit, is the holder of the t.i.tle, for, as Debrett tells us, the family of Tichborne was of great importance in Hampshire before the Conquest, and derives its name from the river Itchen, at the head of which it had estates; "hence it was called De Itchenbourne, since corrupted into Tichborne. Sir John de Tichborne, knight, sheriff of Southampton, on hearing of the death of Queen Elizabeth, immediately repaired to Winchester, and there proclaimed King James VI. (of Scotland) as King of England. In 1621, he was created a baronet, the honour of knighthood having been previously conferred upon three of his sons, while his fourth son Henry was subsequently knighted. Sir Henry, the third baronet, hazarded his life in defence of Charles I. in several enterprises, and his estates were sequestrated by the Parliamentarians. After the restoration he was successively Lieutenant of the New Forest, and Lieutenant of Ordnance." Other Tichbornes have been sufficiently prominent in their times to leave marks on the history of the country; and altogether riches and honours seemed, until comparatively recently, to be the unshadowed lot of the head of the family. That, however, large estates and long descent do not always secure perfect happiness, has been very well shown in the great trial just past, in many ways perfectly independent of the actual result, or of any question as to whether or not the claimant was he whom he professed to be.

Family differences and unpleasantnesses seem to have been the actual, even if remote, cause of the great imposition of Arthur Orton. Had matters been conducted as one might have antic.i.p.ated they would among people blessed with the means of gratifying every whim and caprice, Roger Tichborne would have lived and died like other men, and his name would never have been known except as a quiet country gentleman of English origin and French tastes, which led him into more or less eccentricities, and caused him to be more or less popular among his neighbours and dependants. But this was not to be. All great families have their secret unpleasantnesses, and in these the Tichbornes were by no means behindhand. The Tichbornes generally had a knack of disagreeing, and this feeling was shown in excelsis by James, the father of Roger, and his wife, who lived abroad for many years, she being French in every sentiment, while the husband was but naturalized, and now and again exhibited a desire to return to his native land. When Roger was born there was but little chance of his ever becoming the owner of either t.i.tles or estates, and so his education was entirely foreign, his tutors being M. Chatillon, and a priest named Lefevre. As time wore on, it became evident that Mr. James Tichborne would in due course become Sir James, and he felt it his duty to secure to his son an English education. This the mother opposed most strenuously, and it was only by artifice that the boy was brought to England. Sir Henry Joseph Tichborne, who had succeeded to the baronetcy in 1821, had no son, and though time after time a child was born to him, Providence blessed him with no male heir. Again and again a child would be born at Tichborne, but it was always a girl.

Sir Henry had seven children, of whom six lived, all celebrated for their good looks, and their tall and handsome proportions; but all were daughters. Still there was Sir Henry's brother, Edward Tichborne, who had taken large estates under the will of a Miss Doughty--which led to the present junction of the Doughty and Tichborne properties, and to the double surname--and with them had a.s.sumed the name of that lady, and he was after Sir Henry the next heir. Edward had a son and daughter. But one day there came the news to James and his wife in France, that Sir Edward's little boy had died, and then it was that the father perceived more clearly the error that he had made in permitting Roger to grow up ignorant of English habits and the English tongue. Edward Doughty was an old man. His brother James Tichborne himself was growing in years. The prospect of Roger one day becoming the head of the old house of Tichborne, which had once been so remote, had now become almost a certainty. It would not do for the Lord of Tichborne to be a Frenchman; sooner or later he must learn English, and receive an education fitting him to take the position which now appeared in store for him. All this was clear enough to Mr. James, but not so clear to his weak-headed and prejudiced wife. The father did, indeed, obtain her consent to take the boy over to England, and let him see his uncle and aunt, the Doughtys, at Upton, in Dorsetshire, and his uncle, Sir Henry, at the ancestral home down in Hampshire. But Roger was then but a child, and as he grew older Mrs. Tichborne became more than ever resolute in her determination that, come what might, her darling should be a Frenchman. What cared she for the old Hampshire traditions? France was to her the only land worth living in; a Frenchman's life was the only life worthy of the name. Her dear Roger might succeed to the t.i.tle and estates, but she could not bear the thought of his going to England.

It was in her imagination a land of cold bleak rains and unwholesome fogs. But it was worse; it was the country of a people who had been false to their ancient faith. Even the Tichbornes, though still Catholics, had not always been true to their religion. And so Mrs.

Tichborne planned out for the future heir of Tichborne a life of perpetual absenteeism. He should marry into some distinguished family in France or Italy, and little short of a Princess should share his fortunes. If he went into the army it should be in some foreign service. But in no case should he go to Tichborne, or set foot in England again, if she could help it.

James Tichborne was like many other weak men who have self-willed wives. He put off the inevitable day as long as he could, but finally achieved his purpose by strategy. Roger was in his seventeenth year when the news arrived that Sir Henry had died. It was right that James Tichborne should be present at his brother's funeral, and reasonable that he should take with him the heir, as everyone regarded him to be. Accordingly Roger took leave of his mother under solemn injunctions to return quickly. But there was no intention of allowing him to return. The boy attended the funeral of his uncle at the old chapel at Tichborne, went to his grandfather's place at Knoyle, and thence, by the advice of relations and friends, and with the consent of the boy himself, he was taken down to the Jesuit College at Stonyhurst, and there placed in the seminary with the cla.s.s of students known as "philosophers." When Mrs. Tichborne learnt that this step had been completed her fury knew no bounds. Roger wrote her kind and filial letters in French--ill-spelt it is true, but admirably worded, and testifying an amount of good sense which promised well for his manhood. But Mrs. Tichborne gave no reply, and for twelve months the son, though longing ardently for a letter, got no token of affection. Yet Mrs. Tichborne was not the person to see her son removed from her control without an effort. She upbraided her husband violently, and there was a renewal of the old scenes in the Tichborne household; but Roger was now far away, and the danger of Mr.

Tichborne's yielding in a momentary fit of weakness was at an end.

Meanwhile the mother wrote violent letters to the heads of the college, exposing family troubles in a way which called forth a remonstrance from even the lad himself. What was the precise nature of his studies at Stonyhurst, and what progress he made in them, are questions that have been much debated, but it is certain that he applied himself resolutely to the study of English, and made such progress that, although he could never speak it with so much purity and command of words as when conversing in his mother tongue, he learnt to write it with only occasional errors in spelling and construction. In Latin he made some little progress, and in mathematics more. He attended voluntary cla.s.ses on chemistry, and his letters evidence an inclination for the study both of science and polite literature. At Stonyhurst Roger may be said to have pa.s.sed the three happiest years of his life.

During the period just mentioned, the then last of the Tichbornes made many friends, and if he did not become what we understand as accomplished, he was refined and sensitive. During the vacations he used to visit his English relatives in turn; but there was one place above all others to which he preferred to go. This was the house at Tichborne, then in possession of his father's brother Sir Edward Doughty. There was a certain amount of delicacy in his position towards his uncle and his aunt Lady Doughty, which cannot but be intelligible to any one who has the least knowledge of human failings.

It is not in the nature of things that either Lady Doughty or her husband could have been greatly predisposed towards the youthful stranger, and Roger was shy and reserved and over-sensitive. He had the misfortune to stand in the place which they must once have ardently hoped that their dead child would have lived to inherit. Sir Edward was in failing health, and his brother James was an old man.

The time could not therefore be far distant when this youth, with his foreign habits and his strong French accent, would take possession of Tichborne Park with all the ancient lands. More than that, he would come into absolute possession of the new Doughty property, including the beautiful residence of Upton, near Poole, in Dorsetshire, for which Sir Edward and his family had so strong an affection. It was through Sir Edward alone that this property had been acquired, but the lady who had bequeathed it to him had no notion of founding a second family; in time all the lands and houses in various countries bequeathed by her, as well as those which were purchased by trustees under her will, were to go to swell the Tichborne estate, and to increase the grandeur and renown of the old house. Upton was the favourite home of the Doughtys. Sir Edward, who had been in the West Indies, had returned thence with his black servant named Andrew Bogle, then a boy, and had married--he and his wife doubtless for a long time looking on Upton as their home for life. It cost them a pang to remove even to the house at Tichborne. It was at Upton that their only surviving child Kate had spent her early years, and to return there and enjoy the fresh sea breezes in the summer holidays was always a fresh source of delight. It was hard to think that even Upton must pa.s.s from them, and that the day was probably not far distant when there would be nothing left for them but to yield up their home and estates to the new comer, and retire even upon a widow's handsome jointure and the fortune of Miss Kate. But if such feelings ever pa.s.sed through the minds of the family at Tichborne, they could have been only transient. The shy, pale-faced boy with the long dark locks, came always to Tichborne in his holidays, making his way steadily in the favour of that household, and this not from interested motives on the part of Lady Doughty, as has been falsely alleged, and triumphantly disproved, but clearly from something in the nature of the youth which disarmed ill-feeling. Roger, despite his early training abroad, soon showed good sound English tastes. He took delight in country life; and though he did not bring down the partridges in the woods, or throw the fly upon the surface of the Itchen, with a degree of skill that would command much respect in the county of Hants, he did his best, and really liked the out-door life.