T the moment that the star of the

A Bonapartes culminating there a

sad and solemn interest in looking back at the dynasty which preceded in the government of France. The House of Bourbon ascended the throne in the person of the great but unfortunate Henry IV., in the year 1588, but with such undeviating accuracy were the warp and woof of destiny woven, that although the last reigning prince of that line came to the crown in virtue of five applications of the Salique law, he yet combined in his person all claims legal and natural of the Capetine race, and was the true lineal heir of Hugh Capet, whose reign began A. D. 987, and thus brought the imperial drama of 800 years, rounded and perfect to its tragical close.

Louis XVI. espoused Marie Antoinette Josephe Jeane of Austria, a sister of Joseph II., of the Queen of Naples, and of the Duchess of Parma; daughter of the Emperor Francis I., by Maria Theresa, Queen of Hungary and Bohemia. This event occurred in 1770. On the 10th May, 1774, Louis ascended the throne. Marie Therese Charlotte, the first child of the royal but ill-fated pair, was born Dec. 1778; a second child who died early, was born 1781, and Charles Louis, the Dauphin of revolutionary history, came into the world March 25th, 1785.

The sad history of this child, his beauty, his virtues and his sufferings, are familiar to all. After his separation from his female relatives, and the death of his mother in 1793, he was consigned to the care of Simon the cobbler. By him, he was treated in a manner which disgraced humanity; cold, hunger, filth, sleeplessness, beating, abuse, terror, reduced him to a condition of idiocy. After the fall of Robespierre, and the execution of Simon, his sufferings were alleviated. Under the Convention, a course of timid treachery succeeded to the open brutalities of Robespierre and St. Just. The existence of Louis XVII. was a sore trial for the republicans, who at the same time could frame no excuse, even to themselves, for putting him to death. In Dec. 1794, a decree was passed in the Convention, "that the committee of government should devise the means of sending the son of Louis out of the territories of the republic." On the 9th June, 1795, it was reported to the Convention that he was dead. Three surgeons testified to his death, which was attributed to scrofula. The Duchess D'Angoulême, his sister, gives, from report, in her memoirs, the particulars attending his decease.

Now, did Louis XVII. really die in 1795 as was reported at the time, and generally believed since, or is he still alive

and in the State of New-York? If the following statements, which I am authorized by the individual chiefly concerned to make, seem marvellous, let me remind the reader that the remote and individual consequences of such an event as the French Revolution, can scarcely fail to be so, and should no more surprise us than the brilliancy of meteors torn from shattered worlds.

I observed, about two years ago, a paragraph in the papers, stating that facts had recently come to light, which rendered it probable that the Rev. Mr. Williams, of Green Bay, Wisconsin, was no other than Louis XVII.; but as the circumstances on which the statement was based were not mentioned, except that he bore a strong resemblance to the Bourbon family, my curiosity was excited, and I made fruitless inquiries in many quarters, finding no one who could give me the slightest clue to the mystery. In the summer of 1851, being then a resident at Waddington, on the banks of the St. Lawrence, in the State of New-York, I heard that the Rev. Eleazer Williams had returned from the West to St. Regis, a well-known Indian village, a few miles distant, but my informant was unacquainted with his history. I then purposed to pay Mr. Williams a visit at St. Regis, but was prevented by circumstances from doing so, and as I was about to remove, regretted that I should leave northern New-York without obtaining an interview. Accident, however, threw him in my way. Upon entering the cars, on the Ogdensburg railroad, on my way to New-York, in the autumn of 1851, I observed a somewhat stout old gentleman, talking to two Indians in their own language, in a very animated manner, and was much interested in watching the varied play of their countenances while listening to him. He appeared to be very eloquent, used much gesticulation, and worked his hearers into a state of excitement more remarkable, when compared with the usual stolid expression of the Indian face. A gentleman on the seat before me, who was also watching the singular group, said, "He must be a half-breed," for we were all surprised at the freedom with which one of evidently European figure and face, spoke the Indian tongue. It then occurred to me that it was Williams, and on my saying so, and mentioning the mystery connected with his name, the gentleman who had first spoken rose, and asked the conductor, who confirmed my supposition. On hearing this, I introduced myself to Mr. Williams as a brother clergyman, apologizing for not having paid him a visit. I found him friendly and easy of access. He said that

he had been trying to convince his Indian friends, who were members of the Roman communion, of their errors, and that the poor fellows were much interested in what he had advanced. He was going to Burlington, Vermont, and from thence to Boston, and as our route lay down Lake Champlain, we took the steamer together at Rouse's Point. When we were seated on the deck, I told him that I had seen a statement in the newspapers, which had excited my curiosity, and should feel obliged, if it was not intrusive, by being informed if he believed the story of his royal origin, and upon what evidence the extraordinary claim was based. He re

plied that the subject was painful to him, nor could he speak of it unmoved, but that he would with pleasure, give me the required information. "There seems to me," I then said, "one simple and decisive test of the truth of your claim, I mean, your memory of your childhood. If you have always lived among the Indians, you cannot forget it, and if you are the lost Dauphin, it seems scarcely credible that, being at the time of your mother's death more than eight years of age, you could have passed through the fearful scenes of the revolution, without a strong impression of the horrors attendant on your early years. Have you any memory of what happened in Paris, or of your voyage to this country?"

"Therein," he replied, "lies the mystery of my life. I know nothing about my infancy. Every thing that occurred to me is blotted out, entirely erased, irrecoverably gone. My mind is a blank until thirteen or fourteen years of age. You must imagine a child who, as far as he knows any thing, was an idiot, destitute even of consciousness that can be remembered until that period. He was bathing on Lake George, among a group of Indian boys. He clambered with the fearlessness of idiocy to the top of a high rock. He plunged down head foremost into the water. He was taken up insensible, and laid in an Indian hut. He was brought to life. There was the blue sky, there were the mountains, there were the waters. That was the first I knew of life."

As it is important to compare the statements of personal feelings, given to different persons by Mr. Williams, I may mention here, that a gentleman of the bar, of high standing, whose opinions I shall frequently refer to, recently said to me- "I must do him the justice of saying, that he never pretended to know any thing personally of what occurred in his childhood; but he said, however, that after the plunge in Lake George, his mind seemed to recover its tone and soundness.

and a good many images of things came back, but without any possibility of giving them name and place." He then told me an incident of startling and dramatic interest. A gentleman of distinction, on his recent return from Europe, in an interview with Mr. Williams, threw some lithographs and engravings upon the table. at the sight of one of which, and without seeing the name, Williams was greatly excited, and cried out Good God! I know that face. It has haunted me through life,' or words to that effect. On examination, it proved to be the portrait of Simon, the jailer of the Dauphin.

SIMON.

But to proceed with the conversation on the steamboat. "When then and how," I continued, "did you come to entertain the idea which you now do, concerning your birth? What is there to confirm it ?"

"I was always under the impression," he replied, "that I was at least partly of Indian extraction, until the time that the Prince de Joinville came to this country. One of the first questions that he asked on his arrival in New-York was, whether there was such a person known as Eleazer Williams, among the Indians in the northern part of the State; and after some inquiries, in different quarters, he was told that there was such a person, who was at that time a Missionary of the Protestant Episcopal Church, at Green Bay, Wisconsin, and he was advised to apply for further information to some prominent members of the church, in the city. He accordingly applied to Mr. Thomas Ludlow Ogden, who, at the Prince's request, wrote to me. stating that the Prince was then in the country, and before his return to France, would be happy to have an interview with me. I replied to Mr. Ogden, that I should be exceedingly happy to see the Prince at any time. I was much surprised with his communication; but supposed howerer, that as I had resided a long time in the West, and had been chaplain to Gen.

Taylor, he might desire some local information, which I could give him as readily as most men. Some time elapsed, and I heard nothing more on the subject, which was beginning to fade from my mind, when one day, while on board a steamer on Lake Michigan, I had an interview with the Prince, who shortly after, at Green Bay, revealed the secret of my birth."

Mr. Williams then proceeded to give me many of the incidents connected with this memorable interview; but, as I have within a few days past, drawn from him an account, in every way more circumstantial, of all that occurred, I will postpone further particulars until the subject recurs in the order of events.

To return again to our conversation. "Is your reputed mother," I inquired, "living, the Indian woman who brought you up? Is it not easy to ascertain from her, whether or not you are her child? What does she say upon the subject ?"

"My reputed mother," he said, "is still living at a very advanced age. She is now at Caughnawaga. I ought, as soon as the Prince told me the secret of my birth, to have returned to the East and seen her. But I unfortunately neglected to do so for some time, and when I did come, I found that the Romish Priests had been tampering with her, and that her mouth was hermetically sealed. Since I have been at St. Regis, I have learned from the Indians, that the priests said to her 'Suppose that this man should prove to be heir to a throne on the other side of the Great Salt Lake, what injury may he not do to the church. He has been brought up a Protestant, and if he obtained sovereign power it would be the ruin of many souls. You must therefore say nothing one way or the other, but keep entirely silent.' And so all my efforts to extract any thing from her were unavailing. Her immovable Indian obstinacy has hitherto been proof against every effort I could make. But I have not given up hope yet, and will try her again. When asked the direct question, Is Eleazer Williams your son? she will neither answer yes nor no-but keeps her mouth shut, and seems indifferent to what is said. When hard pressed indeed on one occasion, she has been known to say, 'Do you think that Eleazer is a bastard?' but that was all. If however the question is put to her in an indirect form, she will begin in the monotonous manner in which ignorant people repeat a story in which they have been drilled by others, and have told for years in one way, to give a list of her children, and the dates of their birth, bringing in my name at a particular place. But we have had the Baptismal register

at Caughnawaga examined, and the priest was made to certify to it, and though the names of all the rest of her children are recorded there, together with the dates of their birth and baptism, mine does not occur there; and the births of the children follow so closely upon each other at regular intervals, of two years between each, that it does not seem naturally possible I I could have been her child, unless I was twin to some other child whose birth and baptism are recorded while mine are nota thing which, when we take into consideration the exactness and fidelity with which such things are transacted in the church of Rome, does not seem probable, and scarcely possible. The silence of the Baptismal register may therefore be deemed conclusive proof that this Indian woman is not my mother.

"And then comes in," continued Williams, "evidence of a different description. A French gentleman died at New Orleans, in 1848, named Belanger, who confessed on his death-bed that he was the person who brought the Dauphin to this country, and placed him among the Indians, in the northern part of the State of New-York. It seems that Belanger had taken a solemn oath of secresy, alike for the preservation of the Dauphin, and the safety of those who were instrumental in effecting his escape, but the near approach of death, and the altered circumstances of the times, induced him to break silence before his departure from the world. He died in January 1848. Now the person who had charge of the Dauphin after the death of Simon, stabbed a man in a political quarrel in France, and fled for safety. He it was I suppose who, with the assistance and connivance of others, carried the youth with him to the Low Countries, and thence to England. He must have changed his own name for greater security, crossed the Atlantic, and after depositing him with the Indians, gone to Louisiana and there lived and died.

"The next link in the evidence is yet more singular. A French gentleman hearing my story, brought a printed account of the captivity of the Dauphin, and read me a note in which it was stated, that Simon the jailer having become incensed with the Prince for some childish offence, took a towel which was hanging on a nail, and in snatching it hastily drew out the nail with it, and inflicted two blows upon his face, one over the left eye, and the other on the right side of the nose. And now, said he, let me look at your face. When he did so, and saw the scars on the spots indicated in the memoirs he exclaimed, Mon Dieu-what proof do I want more?'

"But that is not all," he continued. "In the same memoirs it is said, that the Dauphin died of scrofula, and that the disease was on his knees. My knees are eaten up with scrofula, and there are no other scrofulous marks on my body. Such are the main points of evidence on which my claim rests, and you may judge of their strength-and further I can only refer you to the alleged resemblance between me and Louis XVIII. and the Bourbon family in general. I remember a gentleman put his hand over the name attached to a picture of Louis XVIII., and asked a friend whose portrait it was, 'That of Mr. Williams,' was the reply. I have somewhat of a curiosity in my valise, and will show it you if you would like to see it. It is a dress of Marie Antoinette. It was given me by a person who bought it in France, and who hearing my story, and considering me the rightful owner, made me a present of it."

It

He then went forward, opened his valise and returned with a small bundle under his arm, which he carried into the upper saloon for the sake of privacy. is of course impossible to say whether the dress which he showed me is what it is asserted to be, but from its appearance it certainly may be so. It was a magnificent but somewhat faded brocade silk. It had been taken to pieces, and consisted of a skirt, back piece, stomacher, and train ten or twelve feet in length. The waist was very slender. There is pleasure in believing in the truth of memorials of the past, and I cannot envy the critical coldness of one who would ridicule me for surrendering myself, under the influence of the scene, to the belief, that the strange old gentleman before me, whose very aspect is a problem, was son to the fair being whose queenly form that faded dress had once contained, as she moved noblest and loveliest in the Halls of Versailles; and that in childish beauty and innocence, the heir of crowns, and the hope of kingdoms, the observed of all observers, he had rested fondly against its silken folds when the living loveliness of Marie Antoinette was within it. However I am not writing Romance, but a matter-of-fact account of an adventure on a steamboat.

I now proceeded to scrutinize more closely the form, features and general appearance of Mr. Williams, and to reexamine the scars on his face. He is an intelligent, noble-looking old man, with no trace, however slight, of the Indian about him except what may be fairly accounted for by his long residence among Indians. Being far more familiar with their language than with English, which latter he

speaks correctly and even eloquently as far as style is concerned, but pronounces imperfectly; his manner of talking reminds you of an Indian, and he has the habit of shrugging his shoulders and gesticulating like one; but he has the port and presence of an European gentleman of high rank; a nameless something which I never saw but in persons accustomed to command; a countenance bronzed by exposure below the eyebrows; a fair, high, ample, intellectual but receding forehead; a slightly aquiline but rather small nose; a long Austrian lip, the expression of which is of exceeding sweetness when in repose; full fleshy cheeks but not high cheek bones; dark, bright, merry eyes of hazel hue; graceful, well-formed neck; strong muscular limbs, indicating health and great activity; small hands and feet, and dark hair, sprinkled with gray, as fine in texture as silk. I should never have taken him for an Indian. Some persons who saw him several years ago tell me that their impression is that he looked partially like one, but admit that their opinion may have been influenced by their having been previously told that he was of Indian extraction. I will here insert a description of him by another hand, furnished me by Mr. Williams. "His complexion is rather dark, like that of one who had become bronzed by living much in the open air, and he passes for a half-breed. But his features are decidedly European, rather heavily moulded, and strongly characterized by the full, protuberant Austrian lips. This the experienced observer is well aware is never found in the aboriginal, and very rarely among the Americans themselves. His head is well formed, and sits proudly on his shoulders. His eyes are dark but not black. His hair may be called black, is rich and glossy and interspersed with gray. His eyebrows are full, and of the same color-upon the left is a scar. beard is heavy and nose aquiline. The nostril is large and finely cut. His temperament is genial with a dash of vivacity in his manners, he is fond of good living, and inclines to embonpoint, which is the characteristic of his (the Bourbon) family."

His

While refolding the dress of the poor queen, I asked him if he could account for the conduct of the Prince de Joinville in disclosing so important a secret as that of his royal birth, and requesting him to give up rights previously unknown to him, and which without information derived from the Prince he would have had no means of ascertaining. He replied in substance that it might indeed seem strange. The only satisfactory explana tion which he would suggest was that al