D’Eon’s interview with the Earl of Halifax—Refuses to surrender
the King’s papers to de Guerchy—Declines to take leave of
the King of England—A scene at the French Embassy—Another at
Lord Halifax’s residence—A third at D’Eon’s—Summoned by a
magistrate—De Guerchy’s hostile measures—D’Eon is dangerously
drugged at the table of the French ambassador—Designs against
his liberty—Removes to Brewer Street, Golden Square—Childishly
annoyed—His extradition demanded—Warned to that effect by Louis
XV.
With his usual alacrity and wariness in anticipating difficulties, by
strengthening the position into which he sometimes fancied he was forced
by chance, the Chevalier took occasion to represent to Lord Halifax, at a
special interview for which he had asked, that he could not consider his
letters of recall as authentic. In the first place, they had been brought
by the Count de Guerchy, which was absolutely contrary to all precedent,
and in these letters he was styled, simply, Minister Plenipotentiary,
the titles of Knight of the Order of Saint Louis and Captain of Dragoons
being omitted, although they appeared in his credentials; and what was
of most importance, they were not signed with the King’s own hand. Lord
Halifax expressed surprise at these informalities, and said that any
English minister rash enough to make use of the King’s signature under
similar circumstances would be doing so at the risk of his head; the King
of England signed with his own hand all letters to foreign princes, and
all special instructions to his ministers. Such an expression of opinion
was exactly what the Chevalier wanted.[132]
The Embassy archives received by de Guerchy were contained in the
same four despatch-boxes in which they had been delivered to D’Eon by
de Nivernois, and consisted only of the official cypher and ordinary
correspondence; but on taking leave of Madame de Pompadour and the
Minister for Foreign Affairs, de Guerchy had engaged to secure, not only
the Chevalier’s person, but every scrap of paper in his possession.
Failing to obtain them coaxingly, he imperiously demanded, in the many
angry altercations on the subject, that all the documents which had
passed into his hands during his term of office, should be immediately
and unconditionally given up! D’Eon quietly persisted in his refusal to
surrender all such other papers as he conceived he had a right to retain,
unless he received orders to the contrary _direct from the King_, and on
October 23 he furnished the ambassador with this decision in writing.
The nature of the papers they coveted was a mystery to de Pompadour, de
Praslin, and de Guerchy, except that it was believed they incriminated
D’Eon in a correspondence with the proscribed de Broglios. Such would
certainly have been the case, but they also included the detailed plans
for an invasion of England, contemplated, as we are aware, and being
completed during the few months that had transpired since the treaty of
peace had been signed.
Finding D’Eon intractable and resolute, de Guerchy was urgent in
requiring him to present his letters of recall and return to France
with the least possible delay; and meaning to hasten his departure, he
requested the Secretary of State to obtain an audience for the minister
plenipotentiary on the earliest day possible. The following communication
was the result:—
‘Lord Halifax presents his compliments to the Chevalier D’Eon,
and has the honour to inform him that, in consequence of
unforeseen pressure of business, it will be more convenient to
the King to grant an audience to M. D’Eon to-morrow, Wednesday,
than on Friday next.’
‘St. James’, October 25, 1763.’
* * * * *
‘This note is a sufficiently genuine proof,’ wrote D’Eon a few
months later, ‘that my presence at this Court was a terrible
burden on the shoulders of M. de Guerchy. We are in the
month of February, 1764, and I have not yet had my audience
for taking leave.... Judging by appearances, M. de Guerchy
will show the example.... The English minister wrote to me
on October 25, and on the 24th I had received from the Duke
de Choiseul a letter of the 18th of the same month, that is
to say, fourteen days later than the date of the pretended
letter of recall, in which I received fresh assurances of the
satisfaction, at Court, with the manner in which I performed
my duties, and requiring me to continue my correspondence.
On that same day, the 24th, I received another letter, dated
October 15, that is to say, eleven days after the doubtful
letter of recall, in which the Controller-General entrusted me,
in the King’s name, with fresh work.... Lord Halifax’s note
might have influenced me to comply with Guerchy’s wishes, had
I not believed it to be my duty to remain inflexible to his
entreaties.’[133]
[Sidenote: ‘AWAITING FURTHER INSTRUCTIONS.’]
D’Eon declined the Secretary of State’s invitation to take leave of
the King on the 26th, but he attended his Majesty’s levée on that day,
and a dinner party in the evening at Lord Halifax’s, where the company
included Mr. Grenville, the Prime Minister, Lord Sandwich, and others,
and several foreign representatives. Scarcely had he entered the room at
Lord Halifax’s, than de Guerchy, advancing rapidly towards him, asked
why he had not taken leave of the King at the appointed audience. The
Chevalier made his usual laconic reply: ‘Because I am awaiting further
instructions,’ which led to an agitated and unseemly disputation,
until D’Eon brought it to a close by addressing himself to the three
English ministers who happened to be conversing together. ‘The Count
de Guerchy forces me to the honour of declaring to your Excellencies,
that I do not take leave at any audience, because I am awaiting further
instructions,’ which little speech ‘de Guerchy confessed he was quite
unable to comprehend, being himself a novice in diplomatic matters.’ Lord
Halifax showing some inclination to take de Guerchy’s part, D’Eon drew
from his pocket the invitation to dinner he had received, and said to
his lordship: ‘Your Excellency has invited the minister plenipotentiary
to dinner; I entreat that it be not delayed. It is late, and personally,
I wish to avail myself peaceably of the honour you have done me. I do
not come here to excite a disturbance but to bring peace.’ For such bold
words as these, Lord Halifax, who as yet knew but little of D’Eon, was
scarcely prepared; but they sufficed to put him on his guard, as the
sequel will show, for he was beginning to discover that he had to do
with a somewhat strange, perhaps violent, and at any rate very singular
character.
There called at the French Embassy one day in August, a tall, lean
Frenchman, who announced himself as M. Treyssac de Vergy, a great friend
of the Duke de Praslin and the Count de Guerchy, and other French
ministers, and as having come to England to visit a country of which so
little was known. The Chevalier D’Eon received him politely, but reminded
him that it was customary to bring letters of introduction to a minister,
and hoped that he would make it his business to do so; to which de Vergy
replied that he did not consider such letters at all necessary from his
being on terms of great intimacy with the Count de Guerchy, whom he
had met at supper at the house of the Marquises de Villeroy, de Lirré,
&c., and who was sure to embrace him on both cheeks the next time they
met. He repeated his calls, still without producing any letters, until
the Chevalier gave him clearly to understand, in the presence of several
members of the Embassy, that he should have to refuse him admittance if
he again made his appearance without some kind of recommendation.
[Sidenote: A MYSTERIOUS VISITOR.]
On October 23 the Chevalier dined with de Guerchy, and in the course of
the evening M. de Vergy was announced. The Countess de Guerchy asked
D’Eon, aside, if he knew him. ‘No, Madame, but I have my suspicions
about him.’ ‘Hush! M. D’Eon; pray do not speak so loud.’ De Guerchy then
inquired of D’Eon if he was acquainted with de Vergy. ‘No, Monsieur le
Comte, and I have already informed him that he must bring letters of
recommendation.’ Then, turning to de Vergy, he said: ‘Here is the Count
de Guerchy who you know so well, and with whom you have supped at the
Marquise de Villeroy’s. I do not see that he flies to embrace you.’ An
awkward silence of some moments was broken by de Guerchy: ‘Monsieur
de Vergy, I do not know you at all, nor have I met you at supper at
the Marquise de Villeroy’s, although I have the honour of knowing that
lady, and have frequently supped at her house.’ Foolish de Guerchy! How
dearly this utterance cost him, so untrue was it. De Vergy fixed his
eyes steadily on the ambassador, made a profound obeisance, and said:
‘I beg your Excellency’s pardon, I thought I had the honour of being
acquainted with you.’ Then, turning to D’Eon: ‘I have heard it said that
you were a polite man; there never was a greater mistake. _You do not
know, M. D’Eon, the fate that awaits you in France._’ These last words he
repeated a second time. The Chevalier, who was a perfect stranger to de
Vergy’s business in England, took the latter by the arm. ‘My politeness
does not extend to lying in behalf of others. I do not give you the lie,
because you do not know what it is to tell the truth.... I have nothing
with which to reproach myself, and am by no means anxious as regards
my fate, in France or elsewhere.... Were we not in the presence of the
ambassador and of his lady, I should very soon prove to you that I am not
afraid of your threats.’ Other visitors being announced, the ambassador
authoritatively put an end to the altercation, and to D’Eon’s great
surprise, de Vergy was permitted to spend the evening in the general
company.
On the morning of the 26th, whilst the Chevalier was absent from home
attending the King’s levée, de Vergy called at his residence in Dover
Street, and being informed, in answer to his inquiries, that D’Eon was
always at home at nine o’clock, left word that he should call at that
hour the following day, fully expecting to find him in. D’Eon took in
the significance of this message, and in the evening, after dinner at
Lord Halifax’s, he privately related to his lordship the whole of the de
Vergy incidents, and the challenge openly left at his house that morning.
For once, the Chevalier neglected his measures of prudence. Lord Halifax
had scarcely time to forget the mild reproof D’Eon found the courage to
administer to him that evening, before being unconcernedly told of an
intended breach of the peace by one in whose own country duelling was
forbidden under pain of death.[134]
[Sidenote: THE GUARDS TURNED OUT.]
Lord Halifax thanked the plenipotentiary for the information he had
communicated, and shortly invited the French ambassador into another
room, where they remained closeted for some minutes, and on coming
out again the two joined Mr. Grenville and Lord Sandwich in close
conversation. Lord Halifax then asked the Chevalier to abandon his
intention of meeting de Vergy. ‘I have no intention of going in search of
de Vergy, but since he has appointed an hour to see me, I shall certainly
await him.’ ‘Well, then,’ said Lord Halifax, ‘were you even the Duke of
Bedford, I should have to give you in charge of the Guards.’ ‘I have not
the honour of being the Duke of Bedford; I am M. D’Eon, and can take
perfectly good care of myself;’ adding, wishing to escape all further
interference: ‘I have an engagement at the play-house this evening, and
beg to take leave of your Excellency.’ On turning to leave the room he
was surprised to find the door locked, and said somewhat testily to the
ministers, that he never could have believed it possible for a minister
plenipotentiary from France to find himself a prisoner in England, in the
house of a Secretary of State; whereupon Lord Halifax handed him a slip
of paper, with the request that he would attach his signature to what was
written on it. D’Eon read the note, and as he persisted in refusing to
sign it, although repeatedly pressed to do so by the ministers, the door
was thrown open, and a detachment of the Guards, with bayonets fixed,
occupied the room in which the company was assembled, and the adjoining
chambers as well. There were no means of retreat. On seeing the officer,
D’Eon said: ‘Do your duty and I will do mine. If it is to see me home
that you have come I need no soldiers, for I can go perfectly well alone
and on foot.’ Then, addressing the ministers, he intimated that when
his regiment again looked upon the uniform he was wearing, it should
either be unsullied or drenched in blood! A compromise was effected,
the soldiers were withdrawn, and the Chevalier signed the following
declaration ‘in obedience to orders.’
‘The Chevalier D’Eon gives his word of honour to the Earls of
Sandwich and Halifax that he will not fight M. de Vergy or
insult him in any way, without previously communicating his
intention to the said earls, in order that they may be able
to prevent any evil consequences resulting from the Chevalier
D’Eon’s intentions and conduct.
‘(Signed) ‘The Chevalier D’EON DE BEAUMONT,
‘By order and through the respect I owe to the ambassador of
the King my master.’
‘(Signed) ‘DUNK HALIFAX.
‘SANDWICH.
‘GUERCHY.’
‘Great George Street, October 26, 1763.’
Beyond reporting the circumstance of the Guards being summoned during
the evening of October 26 to keep the peace, the daily papers gave no
details of what passed in the reception-rooms of one of the King’s
ministers;[135] a variety of inaccurate versions found easy credence, and
one other blunder was added to the acts of a blundering ministry.
[Sidenote: AN IMMATURE DUELLIST.]
De Vergy was true to his tryst. ‘Here am I, sir, in fighting trim, only
let me ask you a question. Are you minister plenipotentiary or a captain
of dragoons? because if you are a minister I retire.’ ‘I am delighted to
see you, for I have been expecting you. To you, I am simply a dragoon.’
D’Eon then secured the door, intending to detain his visitor until he had
sent word to the Embassy that de Vergy was with him. ‘Do not touch me!’
cried de Vergy in alarm; ‘do not touch me!’ ‘What!’ said D’Eon smiling,
‘you come to me in fighting trim, and are afraid lest I should touch you?
No. I merely intend that you shall be arrested.’ Then, leading him into
his bed-chamber where were writing materials: ‘I require you to read this
note, and sign it in duplicate.’ De Vergy started at seeing a brace of
cavalry pistols and a sabre. ‘Do not kill me!’ D’Eon lay a pistol on the
floor, and putting his foot on it said: ‘There, it won’t bite you. Now,
sign with a will.’
‘I, the undersigned, promise the Chevalier D’Eon, Captain of
Dragoons, on my word of honour, that I will produce at the
French Embassy in London, in the course of fifteen days, or
at the furthest, one month, proper letters of recommendation
from persons well known, or in office, at Versailles or Paris;
failing which, I again give my word of honour to M. D’Eon that
I shall never in future make my appearance before the Count
and Countess de Guerchy, except as a very great, one of the
greatest of adventurers.’
‘London, October 27, 1763,
At a quarter past ten in the morning.’
De Vergy quickly put his name to both slips, and was making for the door
when D’Eon stopped him. ‘I must trouble you to leave by the back way; my
friends only pass through that door. Tell me who you are, or I shall hand
you over to the Embassy.’ ‘M. D’Eon, do not detain me here or I am a lost
man.’ ‘Well, Mr. Adventurer, you may go; I do not wish for the death of
a sinner, but rather for his conversion. If you bring letters and prove
to me that you are an honest man, I shall be a good friend to you.’ D’Eon
at once sent the duplicate of de Vergy’s declaration to the ambassador,
who complimented him upon his honourable behaviour; and de Vergy, having
made the best of his way to the police-court, to lodge a complaint
against the man who had been bullying him that morning, the Chevalier
received the following notice in the course of the day:—
‘Mr. Kynaston, Justice of the Peace, presents his compliments
to the Chevalier D’Eon, and has to inform him that M. de Vergy
has sworn information against him for wishing to break the
peace. Mr. Kynaston therefore requests that M. D’Eon will
appear before him at six o’clock precisely, this evening, at
Sir John Fielding’s, Bow Street, Covent Garden, to answer the
charge of the said M. de Vergy.’[136]
‘Bow Street, Covent Garden, October 27, 1763.’
No notice was taken of this summons by the Chevalier, in the first
place because it was not authenticated by any signature, and because as
minister plenipotentiary he did not consider himself bound to answer it.
The matter went no further.
[Sidenote: THE COUNT DE GUERCHY BALKED.]
Regardless of his dignity, the ambassador continued to importune D’Eon
for the surrender of his papers, advances that were now met in that
spirit of defiance the Chevalier thought himself safe in assuming, armed
as he was with the King’s secret commands. De Guerchy was furious at
D’Eon’s obstinacy and intractability, and resorted to endless expedients
for injuring him in public and private estimation. Acting as he did, in
concert with de Praslin, his first care was to circulate the report of
the Chevalier’s insanity, which he even carried to the Princess Augusta
at Court. He caused two damaging pamphlets to be published,[137] and
further annoyed him in a hundred different ways, even to the jeopardy of
his person, hoping to drive him out of the country and back to France.
De Guerchy, however, was no match for his dexterous subordinate, and
he so far forgot himself as to entreat the Duke de Choiseul to write
a flattering and coaxing letter to the Chevalier, under the title of
minister plenipotentiary, to invite him to repair to Versailles and lay
his grievances before the King. ‘You will perhaps think me a fool for
asking you to resort to means so little consonant with your character,
but I do not see my way to anything else for the present.’[138]
The Chevalier did lay his grievances before the King, but in a manner
very different to that intended by de Guerchy, for he reported in a long
despatch, taken to Versailles by his kinsman and collaborator, de la
Rosière, the treatment he had received at the hands of the ambassador,
and his own conduct under the circumstances. We give a few extracts only,
such as are indispensable to our narrative:—
_Secret and Important. To the Counsellor and his Deputy._[139]
‘London, November 18, 1763.
‘M. de la Rosière will give you an account of all the tricks,
entreaties, threats, promises, &c., to which the Count de
Guerchy has resorted, in his endeavours to discover the secret
motives of my conduct. He will also inform you of the manner
in which I have eluded all his questions, and the little
importance I have attached to his promises and threats. I do
not think it possible to carry matters further than I have
done, nor for any ambassador, or indeed for any man in the
world to be more humiliated and mystified than is the Count
de Guerchy. As to his threats, I scorn them; I have told him
personally that I am firmly determined to resist him, and that
should he make his appearance with another detachment of the
Guards, I would not attack him, but if he cared to call upon
me, he should see how I received him at my door. My door is
narrow, and only sufficiently wide to enable one person to
enter at a time. I am still Minister Plenipotentiary, for I
have not taken leave, and if I choose, I shall take my stand
on political grounds, for the next twelve months, before I
apply for an audience of leave. All I need is sufficient to
meet the expenses of my lodgings and board. La Rosière will
tell you that I have prepared eighteen points of defence, which
must be carried before I can be compelled to take my leave.
I alone, and La Rosière, if he remembers them, know what are
those points of defence, and when the Count de Guerchy and Lord
Halifax attacked me for the first time, I unmasked one redoubt,
and they met with a reverse. M. de Guerchy, S——, and M—— being
greatly irritated at my stay at this Court, where the King, the
Queen, and the royal family continue to treat me with the same
consideration as hitherto, and at a loss to know to what saint
they should offer a vow to ensure my retirement, have resorted
to the darkest and most iniquitous expedients.’
[Sidenote: ANGUIS IN HERBA.]
‘On Friday, October 28, the Count de Guerchy was dining with
Lord Sandwich, and I went to dine at the French Embassy, where
the company included the Countess de Guerchy, her daughter,
M. de Blosset, the Count d’Allonville, and M. Monin. Soon
after dinner, the Countess went out with her daughter, and
I remained with the gentlemen who chattered like magpies. I
began to feel unwell and very drowsy. On leaving the house,
the use of a sedan-chair at the door was offered me, but I
refused, preferring to walk home, where, in spite of myself,
I fell sound asleep in my easy chair. Feeling worse, and as
if my stomach were on fire, I went to bed early, and although
in the habit of rising at six or seven, I slept soundly until
midday, when La Rosière awoke me by violently kicking at the
door. I have since discovered that M. de Guerchy, who has a
physician in his house, caused opium to be put into my wine, in
the belief that I should fall into a deep sleep after dinner,
when I would have been placed in a chair, and instead of being
taken to my own home, carried to the Thames, where it appears
there was a boat in readiness to take me away. La Rosière will
corroborate what I say.[140]
‘The following evening M. Monin came to dine with me. I
spoke to him of my indisposition, and he told me that he had
experienced similar, but not so serious symptoms. Several days
elapsed, and the Count de Guerchy, accompanied by his two
aides-de-camp, came to me before nine in the morning. They
inspected my rooms, and the ambassador asked what ailed me. I
replied with Burgundian candour: “I have been very unwell since
I dined at your Excellency’s table on the 28th; it would appear
that your scullery maids are not careful to scour their pots
and pans. This comes of keeping a large establishment; one is
poisoned without knowing or wishing it.” The Count de Guerchy
then said: “I have ordered my butler to keep a better eye on
the kitchen department, for these gentlemen and M. Monin have
also felt unwell. We are going to walk to Westminster, and had
you not been indisposed, I should have asked you to accompany
us....”
‘Two days subsequently to the ambassador’s visit, a locksmith
called to fit some screws to my door. I guessed what was to
happen, but admitted the man, and feigning to be at work at my
writing table, kept my eye on him. He oiled the lock, removed
the key from inside to outside the door, and in doing so
very smartly took a wax impression of it. I contained myself
sufficiently to ask what I owed him for his labour.’
These incidents, the attempts made to bribe his servants, the fact of
a sedan being continually stationed at his door, although it was not
ordered, convinced him of some bold design on his person and papers, and
he resolved upon leaving his apartments in Dover Street, which he did
on November 9, removing to the house of a Mr. Lautem, wine merchant, 32
Brewer Street, Golden Square, which became his abode for many years after.
A puerile annoyance to which D’Eon had been subjected during the last
few days of his stay in Dover Street, was a rapping and plaintive sounds
at two o’clock every morning, which proceeded from the flue of a chimney
communicating between his own bedroom, and the apartments in the floor
below occupied by L’Escallier, private secretary to the ambassador, who,
as the zealous auxiliary in the plots of his master, employed a young
sweep to ascend the chimney and make ‘ghostly noises.’ The count was
trying very hard to pass off D’Eon for a madman, and that he might obtain
evidence to that effect, had conceived this bright idea for frightening
the Chevalier, imagining that such noises and groans in the dark would
terrify him, cause him to leave his bed and summon the servants. Monin,
the count’s old tutor, who lodged in the room above L’Escallier and the
other dependants devoted to him, would be able to depose that nothing was
found; that there was no cause for alarm, and thus prove the minister
plenipotentiary’s insanity, or at any rate his being a visionary, which
would go far towards completing the success of the scheme for having him
arrested and confined as a lunatic. ‘This incident of itself suffices to
illustrate the meanness and wickedness of the count and his party.’[141]
[Sidenote: MAD, OR NOT MAD?]
Although a good deal of trouble was taken to persuade Louis XV. that
his minister plenipotentiary in London was demented, he does not appear
ever to have seriously believed in the accusation. After seeing D’Eon’s
letters of September 25 to de Praslin and de Guerchy, we find the King
writing to Tercier, October 11, 1763:—
‘ ... D’Eon has written several singular letters; it is
apparently his office of Minister Plenipotentiary that has
turned his head. M. de Praslin has in consequence proposed that
he should be made to come here, when his condition will be
inquired into. If he is mad, be on your guard lest he should
divulge anything....’ In another letter, dated October 12:—‘...
You will see D’Eon upon his arrival in Paris, and I authorise
you to concert with him for taking every precaution that the
secret be guarded....’ Again, October 21:—‘... You may send
the letter to D’Eon if you are quite certain that he has not
already taken his departure....’ Finally, December 30:—‘...
M. D’Eon is not mad, but he is proud and a very extraordinary
person....’[142]
It is possible that the representations of the French ministers on
D’Eon’s mental condition, received some support from Walpole’s chit-chat
to the Earl of Hertford, ambassador in Paris.
‘D’Eon is here still,’ wrote the former, on November 25, 1763;
‘I know nothing more of him, but that the honour of having a
hand in the peace overset his poor brain. This was evident
on the fatal night at Lord Halifax’s; when they told him his
behaviour was a breach of the peace, he was quite distracted,
thinking it was the _peace_ between his country and this.’
As Walpole was not present at Lord Halifax’s the evening of October 26,
he probably obtained these details from his friend de Guerchy.
Thwarted at all points by the Chevalier, who was proving himself to
be his superior in shrewdness and audacity, and indeed in every other
quality that the circumstances during their sensational disputes
necessitated, and dreading the certain exposure, by his intended victim,
of the criminal act of which he had been guilty, the ambassador,
miserably perplexed, entreated his valued friend de Praslin to extricate
him out of a position which had become quite unendurable. The result
was a joyous one to de Guerchy, a special courier having brought a
request to the British Government for the extradition of D’Eon and
the seizure of all his papers; but with his habitual foresight and
caution, the King took care to forestall the ministers by despatching a
secret messenger with written instructions to his ambassador and to his
minister plenipotentiary, neither of whom was to be made aware of the
communication received by the other.
_Louis XV. to the Count de Guerchy._
‘Fontainebleau, November 4, 1763.
‘Monsieur le Comte,—The Duke de Praslin transmits to you, this
day, a demand for extradition addressed by us to the ministers
of our brother, his Majesty the King of Great Britain, having
reference to the person of the Sieur D’Eon de Beaumont. If,
as we think, his Britannic Majesty accedes to our demand, it
will be particularly agreeable to us that you retain the papers
you will find in the possession of the Sieur D’Eon, without
communicating their contents to anybody. It is our will that
they be kept entirely, and without exception, secret, and that
the said papers being previously carefully sealed, shall remain
in your keeping until you take your next annual trip, when you
will deliver them to ourselves in person. We have learnt that
M. Monin, your secretary, has some knowledge of the place where
these papers are likely to have been deposited by the Chevalier
D’Eon. If it is true that M. Monin has any idea of the sort,
we request you to make the same known to us, after having
communicated to him the contents of this letter in our hand. In
thus doing, we shall be specially pleased.
‘LOUIS.’
* * * * *
_Louis XV. to the Chevalier D’Eon._
‘Fontainebleau, November 4, 1763.
‘I warn you that a demand for extradition, having reference
to your person and signed with my stamp, has this day been
addressed to Guerchy to be transmitted by him to the ministers
of his Britannic Majesty, the said demand being accompanied
by police officers to assist in its execution. If you cannot
make your escape, save at least your papers, and do not trust
M. Monin, Guerchy’s secretary and your friend. He is betraying
you.[143]
‘LOUIS.’
Thus was the Chevalier about to be dealt with as an ordinary malefactor
for having braved the fury of de Praslin and of the ambassador, losing
also his best friend de Nivernois, in his intense devotion to the King
whose secret correspondence and interests in England he was protecting;
and because his freedom was imperilled by the ministers of France, the
selfish, vacillating, and weak monarch was secretly scheming for the
transfer of the compromising papers into the custody of the very man
from whom it had cost D’Eon so much to withhold them, and for doing
which he had been fast ensuring his own ruin. The King was feeling that
the step he had taken threatened imminent danger to the other secret
agents immediately concerned—the Count de Broglio and Tercier, but
his conscience was easily relieved, and in addressing a few words of
explanation and comfort to the latter, he fancied he was justifying his
course of action, and reassuring those who were serving him far more
faithfully than he deserved.
‘I am writing to Guerchy, and order him to keep the secret
from everybody. I am instructing him to keep all the papers
sealed, until his return to Paris upon the annual trip he
proposes taking.... If Guerchy betrays the secret, he betrays
me, _and will be a lost man_. If he is a man of honour, he
will not do so; if he is a knave, he deserves to be hanged. It
is very clear that you and the Count de Broglio are uneasy.
Be reassured, I am much more unconcerned.... Having so freely
entrusted Guerchy with the secret, he will keep it.... The case
is different with Madame de Guerchy. I hope he will not tell
his wife anything about it....’[144]
De Broglie was of an entirely different opinion. Upon hearing of what the
King had done, he declared to Tercier, in a note he wrote from his place
of exile, that de Guerchy would assuredly divulge the secret, and that
his wife was as assuredly already acquainted with it.[145]