The Heir of Douglas

by Lillian de la Torre

  She probably did pawn her coat. She certainly did pawn a costly box, and two watches, about which she was in continual anxiety lest she lose them before she was able to redeem them.

  She was reduced to the most pathetic shifts to keep going between quarter-days. When some money for a raffle ticket fell into her hands, it saved the day for a fortnight, and then she was obliged to scratch about for the money to make it good. She pawned an old coin that belonged to Mrs. Hewit. When the Colonel lacked even coach-hire to visit them on his day of freedom, Mrs. Hewit would be sent forth to “burn” or pawn some silver lace. Ultimately my Lady was reduced to begging the Colonel to send her his old cast wigs; they had a second-hand value, no matter how matted; they were highly prized by the army of blackguard boys for polishing your boots.

  The day came when Colonel John, after all, put himself into the Fleet. The King of Corsica went along. The King’s adopted son formed a vivid memory of one rainy night when neither he nor Lady Jane had a penny in pocket when they left the doors of the prison, and they had to walk all the way back to Chelsea in the rain. Archie was along, with Isabel Walker to mind him, and they carried the heavy child by turns as they trudged along in the mud.

  Calamities crowded upon them. The day came when there was not quite enough to eat.

  Dear Mr. Steuart [she wrote], how did your last letter, dear Mr. Steuart, affect my heart! where you tell me, you subsisted for so many days upon the small remains of our little dinner, and not wherewith to send even for porter; and this all owing to your parting too freely with your few shillings to me, which I took from you with regret …

  Dear little Archy has had a little cold, with a small degree of fever; but, blessed be God, ’tis now in a manner quite over … I must own, when I perceived the child hot, and, as I thought, in danger of taking a fever, or the small-pox, I felt a pain and distress of mind not to be expressed; I slept not a wink for a whole night, and was not without great anxiety the next day, tho’ he was grown comfortably better; and now, all is, I think, over, blest be God; and so, would not have mentioned it to you, but to convince you, that no outward bad circumstances can in the least disquiet or discompose me; only what concerns you, dear Mr. Steuart, and these two little babies, Archy and Sholto, robs me of rest and ease. Let this persuade you to take care of your health, and bear up with fortitude under the present frowns of fortune, which will, more than any other thing, oblige your ever tenderly affectionate

  J. D. S.

  I send you a little tea, and a few steaks; a fine present indeed, but all in good time, better will come after, if we’ll have but patience.

  Return the little canister, because it belongs to a tea chest.

  Four o’clock afternoon, Archy’s now so well, that he’s playing in the garden.

  When the day came on which there was barely a penny for the milk-woman, the Colonel put a good face on it:

  I’m extremely glad [wrote Lady Jane], the milk diet agrees so well with you, and that it is so much to your taste; but it grieves me much, that it is mere necessity that has obliged you to take to that primitive food; but tho’ you were to add honey to it, it would be far from being in any degree like the land of Canaan, the place where you now dwell.

  The children are in present health, blessed be God; but poor dear Sholto’s rupture gives me great concern and many fears, being much afraid that the situation of it is more than ordinarily dangerous. I have ordered John to give you a particular account of it, being easier to speak than to write on some subjects.

  The milk diet went on until Lady Jane begged to be allowed to provide something more solid: “… a bit of mutton, beef, or a fowl, and a bottle or two of white wine, of which I shall send you a trial of two different Lisbons by next occasion, but,” added my Lady, who knew her Colonel, “you must keep it for your own use; for I am resolved to begin this new year, by giving of no presents to no creature whatever.”

  In February 1752 my Lady varied her staple of domestic and financial news with a bit of gossip from the great world. The younger Miss Gunning was married.

  The Miss Gunnings were a matched pair of Irish misses from County Roscommon, whence their worldly-wise mother had brought them to throw them upon the English marriage-market. They created a sensation. Their wild-rose colouring, classic features, heavy-lidded eyes, and perfect forms, and all in duplicate, enchanted high and low alike. They had been presented at Court but little before Lady Jane herself, and the unabashed nobility had scrambled up on the chairs to view them better. Lady Jane had had a private showing; Lady Tyrawley had invited them for Lady Jane’s special benefit. Lady Jane thought them excessively charming, sensible, and not more affected than was to be anticipated. Now she wrote to the Colonel:

  “You’ll see by the news papers, that Duke Hamilton is married to the youngest Miss Gunning, she’s a charming pretty creature, and generally well spoke of.”

  Colonel John could see by the newspapers that the Duke of Douglas’s cousin of Hamilton, completely enraptured by the penniless Irish miss, had swept her off her feet at midnight, and wed her before dawn at the marrying chapel in Mayfair, with so much impetuosity that there was no time to procure a proper ring, and the Duke had to make Elizabeth Gunning his bride with a ring from the bed-curtains.

  The Colonel had no way of knowing that the Irish girl and the Scotch Duke were to produce his Archie’s most formidable rival for the estate of Douglas.

  As they dragged their penniless way through their third English winter, tempers began to be frayed. First Colonel John got on his high horse about the poor little trickle of money:

  It has given me the more pain [wrote my Lady to the huffy Colonel], that I could not get sent to you sooner, because you threatened in your last, not to change that little bit of gold till you knew how money matters stood with me; they are not in plenty, that is certain; but I have some shillings remaining, which are sufficient for my present occasions, having kept up my credit, by paying all the little odd things owing about the doors; so that I have no use for any more money for some time to come. However, I shall not fail, when in my power, to endeavour to provide two or three guineas for you …

  I am glad you have got some prospect of a transaction.

  And even tho’ your immediate prospect of succeeding in a transaction should once more be disappointed, keep but up your spirits, and let but your heart be easy, and nothing can disquiet mine.

  It was past human power, in their situation, to keep a quiet heart. There was at least one sharp quarrel. Lady Jane was bitterly sorry, and generously took all the blame:

  I have felt so much pain since I left you, for the few unguarded, rash words I expressed at parting, that I take this way to discharge, if possible, some part of the burden of grief I have suffered upon that occasion; at the same time that I find myself unable to give you an idea of the one half of my sorrow, which will not diminish, till you, with your usual goodness and indulgence to me, assure me of a pardon. Dear Mr. Steuart, write as soon as this comes to your hands, that you are not displeased, which will make me happy again. I won’t enter upon the subject of our debate, which caused my wrong-headed expressions; only this far, that I confess you were in the right, and I excessively in the wrong. I am from my heart and soul conscious and sensible of my fault. So, once more, dear Mr. Steuart, pardon it, and pass it over, and never in your life think more of my ill-judged, as well as ill-managed arguings.

  On Friday, please God, I intend to dine with you; don’t provide a dinner, I bring one along with me.

  Receive inclosed a moidore; I’ll bring a little more of the same metal with me; wish I could bring as much as would deliver you out of your confinement.

  Dear little Archy and Sholto are charmed with their hats, and promised to be good boys. They’re in perfect health, blessed be God, as I am; only till I hear from you, and that you’re friends with me, I shall have no tranquillity of mind. Adieu, dear Mr. Steuart. In spite of frequent idle sallies, I am, and ever shall be, with the ten
derest and warmest affection, yours,

  Jane Douglas Steuart

  It couldn’t go on. With dwindling resources, dwindling credit, dwindling patience, the Steuarts had the chagrin to see their last hopes fail. The whisper was growing against them that Archie and Sholto were nothing but nunnery children, and none of theirs.

  My Lady Jane disdained this calumny, but it infuriated the match-tempered Colonel. Early in their stay in London he had made a rather confused attempt to obtain some kind of proof in their defence. He wrote to their landlady at Aix-la-Chapelle, and asked her to certify that my Lady had been pregnant. No reply was received.

  Then the minister of Douglas Town appeared in London, Mr. Hamilton, he who had advised the goutish Duke to marry. He brought unwelcome news. There was a very pressing cabal to get the Duke to settle his fortune on his cousin of Hamilton. Other would-be heirs were at him, and the Ducal wind blew foul and fair, chopping and changing every quarter of an hour, but always contrary to my Lady’s interests.

  Colonel John’s idea of how to deal with this dangerous eccentric was to send him a copy of The Oeconomy of Human Life.

  I expect [wrote Lady Jane], to see or hear from Mr. Hamilton every hour, and shall write you what passes when I have had a conversation with him; you may believe I shall not forget to give him two or three copies of the Oeconomy of Life.

  I send you a small recruit of paper, at any time when you want let me know, for I have credit for everything, and want nothing, but your dear company, and money; but I trust in God’s infinite goodness, that all our wants shall be supplied in His good time, which is always best; keep but your spirits up, and take care of your health, so precious and dear to your tenderly affectionate

  J. D. S.

  The easy philosophy of The Oeconomy of Human Life proved a weak weapon indeed, especially for use on a man who could not even read his own letters. The Hamilton faction had stronger artillery, and soon the Duke began to show signs of capitulation.

  The Duke’s agent, in the opinion of Lady Jane’s friends, was married to a foolish elevated woman. She was making great show of thronging business, and complaining that she had no one to assist her.

  “For,” said she, “my husband with five clerks is gone off on business of importance.”

  “Where?”

  “To Douglas Castle; and very soon that great and ancient house, the brag of the world, will be quite extinct.”

  “How, has not Lady Jane two fine sons?”

  “Ha,” said she, “they’ll never be owned by his Grace, and all that’s possible to be done against her and hers will soon be put into execution!”

  When Lady Jane heard about this conversation, she saw that there was only one expedient left. There was no use eking out a meagre existence in London, while matters in Scotland went awry. She must go down and plead her cause in person.

  My Lady marshalled her forces. The little boys must have new big-coats. Money must be collected somehow; there was a new, and hopeless, attack upon dour Six George; a new, and vain, attempt to borrow from the landlord; repeated, and frustrated, duns upon the Colonel’s petty-cash creditors; before somehow enough was raised for journey-money. Now all was bustle. Lady Jane inventoried Colonel John’s clothing. She packed a dozen trunks of superfluities which the landlord undertook to care for. She made a list of her debts, a project too huge to be completed in one day or one list. Colonel John on his part drew up a set of rules for travelling. My Lady received them respectfully; she was privately resolved to violate the most important article of all. At last all was ready, and my Lady penned her adieux:

  We set out now, please God, for certain today, in an hour or two; so God Almighty bless and preserve you, dear Mr. Steuart, and bestow upon you every happiness your heart can wish.

  Our dear little ones are very well, and in high spirits on the thoughts of their journey. Mrs. Hewit is mighty well, and sends you her most affectionate compliments. Adieu, dear Mr. Steuart. I ever am, with the sincerest and tenderest affection entirely yours,

  Jane Douglas Steuart

  In me thou dost behold

  The poor remains of beauty once admired;

  The autumn of my days is come already;

  For sorrow made my summer haste away.

  (HOME’S Douglas)

  Chapter IV

  Archie and Sholto, four years old, had never had so much fun in their lives. They went by ship, and they fell in with fascinating ship-mates—two obliging black men who kept them entertained. How Lady Jane enjoyed the trip is not recorded. She took care that the Colonel should think they had gone by land. Her touchy stomach always prostrated her at sea, and Colonel John would have worried.

  On August 17, 1752, they arrived at Leith and proceeded to Edinburgh. For the first time the French-born children saw the city of the Douglas race thrusting up suddenly from the level, a bristling spine of rock rising from a palace on the plain to a castle in the air. Along the High Street on the ridge, and spilled down the precipitous descent to the south, rose the narrow gray houses, stabbing sharply into the air with their steep crow-step gables and turreted turn-pike stairs. In each towering edifice the nobility and quality of Scotland roosted like swifts in a chimney. The buildings, or “lands,” might rise eight, eleven, fourteen storeys off the plain, and more than half as many above the High Street. In them people of fashion had their “houses,” which is to say a flat or floor opening off the common stair; and the higher, the more genteel.

  My Lady Jane found a genteel lodging in a close just off the High Street and but a step from the heart of town. After quiet Chelsea, the little boys must have taken huge delight in the bustling scene outside. A few steps uphill the crowned tower of St. Giles’s Cathedral dominated the Parliament Square. There surged the full tide of Edinburgh existence—lawyers in black and judges in purple and red under full sail for the courts in the Parliament House, cits and country bumpkins cheapening gold-smith’s work at the booths attached like barnacles to the cathedral, Highland caddies, Edinburgh loafers, and Irish chairmen thronging about the market cross.

  It was a convenient place for seeing old friends. Lady Jane’s cousins, some of them, were glad to welcome her back. Old Jacobite friends, the Hepburns of Keith, were there before her. Lady Stair entertained her in the lovely old house that still stands in the close off the Lawnmarket. Lady Stair took an interest in the little boys, and advised putting them to school. Archie proved forward in learning. Soon his perpetual occupation was writing “letters” to the Colonel in London.

  Lady Jane soon wearied of the winds that blew in the High Street, and probably of the charges as well, and moved to a country solitude named Hope Park. Here they lived quietly; she thought it would ill become her to do otherwise, with the Colonel in confinement. They made but one sally. When the King’s birthday was celebrated in November, loyalty combined with a natural desire to show off her boys. She arrayed them in their best, called for a sedan chair, and to town they went.

  The children were caressed beyond measure; my Lady thought they would be eaten up with fondness. Many persons of the first consequence made my Lady Jane welcome back to her country, and offered obliging inquiries about the Colonel; they were sorry to hear that business of importance detained him in London.

  This popular success heartened my Lady to attack the business of importance that had brought her to Scotland. She was feeling her way. On her arrival she hoped to make use of the Duke’s man of business, and summoned him to call. He would not come near her. Instead he sent her empty assurances of regard, of which, my Lady said dryly, she did not boast.

  Then there were the papers still in her possession, over which the Duke was so enraged. She still thought them rightfully hers, but she was willing to lay them down if with them she could win a trick. She tried to make them a ticket to the Duke’s presence, by offering to hand them over in person. It didn’t work. She was forced to hand them to the Duke’s doer, who angered her with the naked triumph he displayed. He departed w
ith insincere promises to intercede with the Duke on her behalf. He did nothing of the kind. When my Lady asked what he was about, to neglect her interests, she heard that he was constantly down at Holyrood, where Duke Hamilton had his official residence, consulting and contriving.

  Lady Jane could get no access at Holyrood. When the beautiful Irish Duchess came to town, my Lady called, and was turned away. The Duke of Douglas had instructed his would-be heir to have nothing to do with his sister.

  The Ducal wind was blowing strongly against Lady Jane. The Duke was convinced that the boys were pretenders; Lady Jane was too old to be the mother of twins, and Colonel John was “an old wore-out rake.”

  “I would give my estate as soon,” said the surly old nobleman, “to the puppies on the floor as to these children.”

  The clack went round that Archie and Sholto were the by-blows of a nunnery, and that Lady Jane and her Jacobite adventurer had bought them in the streets of Paris at the rate of eight shillings, on purpose to put cuckoos in the Douglas nest. It made Lady Jane very angry.

  She consulted the Lord Advocate about it.

  “God knows my innocence!” she cried. “The children are mine. I do not doubt but the man-midwife who delivered me is still alive. Pray advise me. If you think it necessary, I will bring any proof that would be thought proper.”

  “You need give yourself no uneasiness,” replied the lawyer, “for as you and Mr. Steuart acknowledge the children, there is no further proof necessary.”

  So Lady Jane sought no further proofs. When a friend urged her to write to France, Lady Jane touched her pocket and replied:

  “There is no need, for I have sufficient evidence here.”

  “What is it?”