EXTRACT FROM THE MESSIANIC LEGACY
In 1979,
when we first met M. Plantard, we were told that both of the ciphered
texts were in fact forgeries, concocted in 1956 by the Marquis de
Chérisey for a short television programme. We challenged this
assertion. The staggering effort required to devise the ciphers seemed
inappropriate, indeed ridiculous, for such a purpose. M. Plantard
conceded that the forgeries were based very closely on the originals.
In other words, they had not been ‘concocted’ by M. Chérisey at all.
They had been copied, and M. Chérisey had made only a few additions.
When these additions were deleted, what remained were the original
texts found by Saunière. But if these two biblical texts were
authentic, and if there were three other parchments — two genealogies
and the Hautpoul ‘testament’ — that made a total of five. Five
separate documents. Whereas Saunière was alleged to have discovered
only four. A second, and even more urgent, question was what had
become of the parchments. According to one account, they were said to
have been ‘purchased by fraud’ and found their way into the hands of
the League of Antiquarian Booksellers — or, at any rate, certain
individuals, generally identified as ‘Roland Stansmore’ and ‘Sir
Thomas Frazer’, posing as representatives of the League of Antiquarian
Booksellers. According to another account, they had been plundered
from the library of an ecclesiastic in Paris, the Abbé Emile
Hoffet,shortly after his death in 1946. They were then said to have
found their way into the archives of the Knights of Malta. In our
early meetings with him, M. Plantard had confirmed a statement that
occurred in a number of specifically Prieuré de Sion sources — that
the documents as of then (1979) were in a safe deposit vault of Lloyds
International in London. But M. Plantard did not elaborate on how they
got there. Finally, in another mysterious addition inserted into Jania
Macgillivray’s doctored article, the parchments were said to have been
removed from their London depository and placed in a safe deposit box
in a Parisian bank, located at 4 Place de Mexico. If this was true,
the parchments, as of the latter part of 1979, were back in France.
But there was no indication of who had transferred them or why, who
had access to them, who had been responsible for the shadowy
transactions associated with them.

Parchments allegedly deposited here 4 Place de Mexico (picture
is my insert)
The Notarised Documents During our meeting with
him on 17 May 1983, M. Plantard elaborated on two of the paramount
questions pertaining to Saunière’s parchments — and, in characteristic
fashion, thereby created further mystification. The documents found by
Saunière, he said, were indeed only four in number. Three of them were
those to which various references had repeatedly alluded – a genealogy
dating from 1244 bearing the seal of Blanche de Castille, an Hautpoul
genealogy dating from 1644 and the Hautpoul ‘testament’ dating from
1695. The fourth parchment, he said, was the original on the basis of
which the Marquis de Chérisey had devised a
modified version. According to M. Plantard, there was one coded
message on each side of the page. In some way, apparently, the two
texts interacted with each other – if, for example, they were held up
to the light and viewed, as it were, in superimposition. Indeed, it
was suggested that M. Chérisey’s chief ‘modification’ had simply been
to reproduce the two sides of the same pages as separate pages, and
not to the original scale. This, of course, immediately resurrected a
question with which we had occasionally toyed in the past. Could the
other three parchments found by Saunière have been important not
because of what they said, but because of something else – something
about the actual physical sheets on which they were inscribed? What
might be on the reverse, for example? A genealogy of the Hautpoul
family, even to people familiar with them and their proprietorship of
Rennes-le-Château, would hardly seem to warrant all the fuss it had
apparently engendered. But what if there were something else on the
reverse of the parchment? There is certainly documented evidence about
the 1644 Hautpoul genealogy which suggests that it was indeed
significant. It is known to have been registered on 23 November 1644,
by a man named Captier, notary of the town of Esperaza, not far from
Rennes-le-Château. After disappearing for a time, it was found again
by Jean-Baptiste Siau, notary of Esperaza, in 1780. For reasons
unspecified, he deemed it so important that he refused to return it to
the Hautpoul family. He declared it to be a document of ‘great
consequence’, which he would not let out of his hands. He offered to
travel with it and show it personally to any official authorised to
see it, but insisted on returning it afterwards to his strong room. On
occasion, the phrase ‘state secret’ has occurred in relation to this
document. Some time after 1780, it again disappeared. Or, more likely,
the eruption of the French Revolution dictated that it be concealed.
There is evidence that subsequent members of the Hautpoul family were
aware of its existence and tried to locate it, but they do not appear
to have succeeded. M. Plantard refused to comment on either of the
Hautpoul parchments, or on the 1244 genealogy bearing the seal of
Blanche de Castille. He simply asserted that the fourth parchment
found by Saunière consisted of the two coded biblical texts, one on
each side of the page. But then, with neither preamble nor warning, he
suddenly pulled from his briefcase and placed on the table in front of
us two impressively beribboned and be-sealed documents. The text, as
we read it, seemed abruptly to lift the whole question of the
parchments out of the realm of hypothesis and speculation, and to
anchor it in very concrete, very specifically British, territory. The
documents M. Plantard showed us, and of which he provided us with
photographs, were two officially notarised statements. The first,
dated 5 October 1955, was a request to the French Consulate in London,
asking authorisation for the export of three parchments — a genealogy
dated 1244 bearing the seal of Blanche de Castille, a genealogy dated
1644 for Francois-Pierre d’Hautpoul and the 1695 ‘testament’ of Henri
d’Hautpoul. The text began:
I, Patrick Francis
Jourdan Freeman, Public Notary . . . certify . . . that the signature
R.S.Nutting which is found at the bottom of the attached request is
truly that of Captain Ronald Stansmore Nutting . . .
Mr Freeman also declared that he verified the authenticity of
Nutting’s birth certificate, which was said to be attached — although
the birth certificate, attached in the photograph was not Captain
Nutting’s, but that of a Viscount Frederick Leathers. Leather’s name,
at the time, was unknown to us. It seemed clear, however, that Captain
Nutting was the person whose name had been garbled to ‘Roland’ or
‘Ronald Stansmore’ in a number of references we had encountered
previously. In 1981, for example, the Marquis de Chérisey, in a
passage quoted above, had spoken of ‘Captain Ronald Stansmore of the
British Intelligence Service’, who, posing as a ‘respectable lawyer’,
had purchased Saunière’s parchments allegedly on behalf of the
International League of Antiquarian Booksellers. And in the same
passage, there had been mention of:
. . . the
demand for the recognition of Merovingian rights made in 1955 and 1956
by Sir Alexander Aikman, Sir John Montague Brocklebank, Major Hugh
Murchison Clowes and nineteen other men in the office of P.F.J.
Freeman, Notary by Royal Appointment.
The first
page in the documents shown us by M. Plantard was headed ‘Request for
Authorisation to the Consulate-General of France’. In the ensuing
text, three Englishmen were cited; the Right Honourable Viscount
Leathers, CH, born 21 November 1883 in London; Major Hugh Murchison
Clowes, DSO, born 27 April 1885 in London; and Captain Ronald
Stansmore Nutting, OBE, MC, born 3 March 1888 in London. These three
gentlemen requested permission from the Consulate-General of France to
export from that country:
. . . three parchments
whose value cannot be calculated, confided to us, for purposes of
historical research, by Madame James, resident in France at Montazels
(Aude). She came into legal possession of these items by virtue of a
legacy from her uncle, the Abbé Saunière, curé of Rennes-le-Château
(Aude).
There then follows the specific
description of the three items in question — the 1244 genealogy, the
1644 genealogy and the ‘testament’ of 1695. After that, the text goes
on to state:
These genealogies contain proof of
the direct descent, through the male line of Sigibert IV, son of
Dagobert II, King of Austrasie, through the House of Plantard, Counts
of Rhédae, and they are not to be reproduced in any fashion.
The text bears the signatures of Viscount Leathers, Major
Clowes and Captain Nutting. At the top of the page is the stamp and
seal, dated 25 October 1955, of Olivier de Saint-Germain, the French
Consul. In fact, however, all Saint-Germain certifies is that the
signature and seal of the notary, P.F.J. Freeman, are correct. M.
Plantard also produced further documents, similar to the first but
dated a year later. These introduced a new and, in his way, august
personality, whose birth certificate was attached. The birth
certificate was that of Roundell Cecil Palmer, Earl of Selborne. On
the front, Patrick Freeman, notary attached to John Newman and Sons,
27 Clements Lane, Lombard Street, London, confirmed that the signature
at the foot of the attached request was indeed that of Lord Selborne,
appended in the notary’s own presence. Mr Freeman also confirmed the
authenticity and validity of Lord Selborne’s birth certificate. The
statement was dated 23 July 1956. Below Mr Freeman’s signature, there
were the seal and stamp of the French Consul-General in London, who,
now, a year later, was no longer Olivier de Saint-Germain, but one
Jean Guiraud. His signature and seal bore the date 29 August 1956. The
reverse of this statement was headed ‘Third Original Example’ —
implying that there were at least two others. It was sub-headed
‘Request to the Consul-General of France in London for the Retention
of French Parchments’. In the text that followed, Lord Selborne, ‘born
15 April, 1887, in London’, declared that, from the office of Patrick
Freeman, public notary, he was addressing a request to the
Consul-General of France to retain certain French documents. He then
proceeded, ‘on my honour’, to specify the documents in question. In
accordance with the wishes of Madame James, who had ‘donated’ them,
Lord Selborne further affirmed that these documents would, after
twenty-five years, legally revert to M. Pierre Plantard, Count of
Rhédae and Count of Saint-Clair, born 18 March 1920. Should M.
Plantard fail to reclaim them, they would pass to the French National
Archives. In the next paragraph, Lord Selborne declared that the
documents in question, deposited by Captain Nutting, Major Clowes and
Viscount Leathers at the International League of Antiquarian
Booksellers, 39 Great Russell Street, London, would be placed ‘on this
day’ in a strongbox of Lloyds Bank Europe Limited. No divulgence of
them was to be made. At the bottom of the page there was Lord
Selborne’s signature. From these two notarised statements a story of
sorts can be pieced together. In 1955, Viscount Leathers, Major Clowes
and Captain Nutting appear to have obtained three of the four
parchments found by Saunière in 1891. The parchments are said to have
been obtained from Saunière’s niece, Madame James, then residing in
Saunière’s own native village of Montazels, not far from
Rennes-le-Château. Permission was sought and presumably procured for
these parchments to be exported to England. On 5 October 1955, the
three Englishmen were in the office of the notary Patrick Freeman and
had their request for export notarised — or, if not the request,
something pertaining to the request, if only birth certificates and
signatures. In 1956, Lord Selborne sought permission to retain the
parchments in England. His request, apparently, was again notarised by
Patrick Freeman, on 23 July, and signed by the French Consul-General
on 29 August. The parchments, originally deposited with the
International League of Antiquarian Booksellers, were then deposited
with Lloyds Bank Europe. In twenty-five years — that is, 1980 or 1981
— they were to revert to Pierre Plantard de Saint-Clair, or failing
his reclamation of them, to the French government.
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