D’Eon’s intricate situation—Popular indignation in England at
the late peace—Letter of gratitude to Louis XV.; of reproach
to the Count de Broglio—Sued for libel—Retains the King’s
papers as security for his person—Illegal proceedings on the
part of the French ambassador—Out of door precautions against
being kidnapped—English sympathy for D’Eon—Is found guilty of
libel, absconds, is searched after, and outlawed—Confession of
Treyssac de Vergy—De Guerchy’s charge against de Vergy.
We may well pause awhile to recapitulate, and realise the parts that
were being severally played by King, minister, ambassador, and late
minister plenipotentiary, in this most extraordinary political drama.
In the first place we see the late minister plenipotentiary as the
custodian, not only of the King of France’s written secret instructions
and correspondence, extending over a series of years, but also of highly
compromising documents, the property of his Majesty,[178] of which, had
their signification been known to the people of England, still agitated
and discontented at the terms of the late peace, would inevitably have
plunged the two countries in afresh and sudden war. Then we find the
French Minister for Foreign Affairs, the willing instrument of the
King’s malicious mistress, employing his old friend, the ambassador in
London, to carry out her bidding by seeking to obtain the whole of the
plenipotentiary’s papers, first by authoritatively demanding them, then
by gentle measures, and afterwards at any hazard. The plenipotentiary
and King’s secret agent proves true to his trust in refusing to make any
surrender, without the express orders of his sovereign, whose secret
commands to that effect he holds. Of this the Minister for Foreign
Affairs knows nothing. The plenipotentiary cannot serve two masters,
and elects to submit himself to the King’s will, of which he alone
is cognisant. For refusing to yield to his superiors in office he is
regarded as a rebel, then a traitor, is degraded, disgraced, and to be
treated as if he were a common criminal, and this through orders wrested
from the King by his minister! Thus Louis XV., a cowardly stranger
to every emotion of the heart, suffers his name to be used as the
authority for dishonouring the most faithful of his servants, and because
apprehensive of the fate of his papers, and fancying he is no longer able
to protect the custodian of them, secretly puts him on his guard, and
although he recommends him to save himself if he can, remains carelessly
indifferent to what might befall him; turns to his ambassador, admits him
into the secret as the sole alternative that presents itself for ensuring
himself from being compromised, directs him to secure the papers, to
keep their existence and his possession of them a profound secret, and
retain them until such time as he shall return to France, when he is to
deliver them in person; this ambassador being the very man who, from the
beginning, was the confidant and tool of de Pompadour and de Praslin, and
against whose acquisition of the royal documents the plenipotentiary had
long and successfully struggled, braving the hostility of ministers until
he had effected his own ruin.
Had D’Eon been so inclined he might, solitary outcast as he was, have
constituted himself master of the situation, and dictated his own terms.
Offers amounting to forty thousand pounds were now made, if he would say
what he knew regarding the late peace. Lords Bute, Egremont, and Halifax,
the Duke of Richmond, Count Viri, and even the Princess of Wales, were
accused, in the general excitement, of having received bribes from the
French Court for their share in the negotiations; so great indeed was
the popular indignation against the Duke of Bedford, who had conducted
them at Versailles as the King’s ambassador, that he seldom dared to
appear in the streets of London, where he had been hissed, and worse
might have befallen him. It was believed, and with good reason, that the
Chevalier D’Eon was in a position to settle any doubts on the matter, and
it was sought to take advantage of his abandoned and penniless situation
by tempting him with plenty; but the love of lucre was not a trait in
the Chevalier’s character. ‘I am intractable as regards my honour,’ he
wrote more than once; and even though his royal master, for whom he was
enduring all things, should forsake him in time of greatest need, he
loved his country too well to expose it to danger and to the scorn of the
world, by betraying the King.
No sooner had the Chevalier received from M. Nort the Count de Broglio’s
letter and substantial succour from the King—for it should be remembered
that his emoluments and pension were stopped—than, brimful of emotion,
and believing that in this material assistance he saw fresh earnest
of interest in his behalf on the part of the monarch, now no longer
trammelled by de Pompadour,[179] he expressed his heartfelt gratitude in
these words:—
‘Sire,—I am innocent, and have been condemned by your
ministers; but from the moment that your Majesty wishes it, I
place my life, and the recollection of every outrage I have
experienced from the Count de Guerchy, at your Majesty’s feet.
Be persuaded, Sire, that I will die your faithful subject....’
His behaviour was very different towards the Count de Broglio, in whose
letter he found no reference whatever to his contentions with de Guerchy;
his solicitations for redress against the injuries he had suffered at
the hands of the ambassador remained unheeded, nor was there one word of
encouragement that might be construed into probable consideration of the
services he had rendered, privately to the King, and to his country. It
simply contained a proposition that he should surrender the papers in his
possession for a sum of money not stated, and as to his prospects in the
future, they were left undetermined. He returned the count’s letter to
Nort, under cover of a written declaration that he refused to consider it.
‘I gave him to understand that I was not being dealt with
fairly, that the turn the count was pleased to give to my
affairs, in connection with the King, was by no means agreeable
to me, and not in the least in conformity with facts and with
the consequences of the secret order of June 38, 1763, and
secret instructions relating thereto, which had obliged me
not to take my leave at an audience, but to remain in London.
The count passes over, with inconceivable indifference, the
complaints I have laid at the foot of the throne against M.
de Guerchy, treating them as petty quarrels, money matters,
delicate questions to arrange, when he conscientiously knew the
contrary to be the case.... I was being innocently sacrificed
to policy and expediency. The count was leaving me, like the
goat in the fable, at the bottom of the well into which the
King’s and his own political orders, and the mutual hatred of
the Broglios and Guerchiens had cast me; but I was delighted to
see him, like the fox, climb on to my shoulders to escape from
exile, and out of the precipice in which I remained, awaiting
with confidence and steadiness the pleasure of God and the
King.’[180]
The French ambassador having been advised that the language employed
in the Introduction to the ‘Lettres, Mémoires,’ &c. was libellous,
immediately instituted proceedings against D’Eon, in which he was
supported by the whole diplomatic corps in London.[181] The trial[182]
was pending, and D’Eon, deserted and friendless, was careful to keep
himself armed at all points, so far as lay in his power, against the
coming struggle. He was satisfied that, provided he had custody of the
papers, he was comparatively safe from any very great harm. Nort had
brought to him no promise of protection, at a time that his liberty was
in hourly peril; he should therefore continue to keep the papers until
security of his person was guaranteed to him. Finding it impossible
to treat with the Chevalier, Nort returned to Paris from his bootless
errand, defeated and empty-handed.
‘Were you in my place,’ wrote D’Eon to de Broglio, ‘you would
not do otherwise ... nothing in the world will induce me to
give up these papers, so long as M. de Guerchy is ambassador
in England. Should his Majesty determine upon appointing you,
Monsieur le Comte, or the marshal, as ambassador, I can truly
assert that considering the marshal’s great reputation in
England, the affairs of France would at once take an entirely
new direction. The action against me would break down, I should
surrender my papers, and all would be well.’[183]
Apart from his action for libel, the ambassador caused yet another
pamphlet to be written and published by Goudard[184] (who wrote, says
D’Eon, _pro fame_ rather than _pro fama_), a vicious criticism on
the volume of ‘Lettres, Mémoires,’ &c. The Chevalier ‘would not take
the trouble to reply to this senseless rather than discriminating
disquisition on his book, but availed himself of the opportunity
afforded him on Easter Day, 1764, in chancing to meet Goudard in the
Green Park, St. James’, to give him a sound caning in the presence of
several respectable witnesses, to which the mercenary scribe never made
any answer;’ and Goudard having boasted in a coffee-house that he had
completely rebutted every argument advanced in the work, D’Eon gave out
that since he had thus proved the vigorous nature of his jaw, he should
borrow that ass’s jaw whenever he would have to combat _des Philistins
des Guerchiens et des chiens de Guerchy_.[185]
‘My enemies maintain that I am ambitious and delight in
honours only, and this they say, because I became Minister
Plenipotentiary at an early age without having sought the rank.
The fact is, I have never nourished in my heart other than
that noble emulation which spurs a man on to action. During
my military and political career I have always aspired to the
highest rank, without any idea of injuring anybody, and without
feelings of envy or jealousy. The spirit of emulation is not
forbidden by any law, Divine or human. The oak that reaches to
the sky and raises its branches to the clouds, had once been
but an acorn in the bowels of the earth. If the grass and the
neighbouring small trees were to complain to Jupiter against
this oak, would their murmurs be regarded? Thus should it be
with those men who, born without common sense, unreasonably
grudged me my elevation.’[186]
At the time of which we write, the trial of John Wilkes at the Old King’s
Court had already taken place, and the country was convulsed by what are
known as the Wilkes’ riots.
The Chevalier was increasing in popularity, ‘for it is engraven in the
hearts of the English to take part with the oppressed,’ at a time that de
Guerchy’s conduct was not of a nature to gain for him the esteem of the
ministers or people of England. He had come into disagreeable collision
with the authorities, and found pleasure in persecuting several of his
own countrymen in London,[187] who refused to be tyrannised over by him
in a manner that was offending the sensibilities of the liberty-loving
people amongst whom they lived, and especially at a time when that people
believed they were engaged in a struggle for liberty, represented in
their idol of the day—John Wilkes.
Some weeks previous to de Guerchy’s arrival, D’Eon wrote to apprise
him that he might rely upon exemption from duty in accordance with the
privileges of an ambassador, on all such goods as he might require to
pass into the country, provided it was indisputably shown that they were
for his sole use and benefit. The abuse of this privilege upon more
occasions than one, after his arrival in England, called forth a strong
remonstrance from the department concerned, to which de Guerchy replied
by the assertion of privilege; the matter was consequently referred to
the Lords of the Treasury, who terminated the discussion by informing
Lord Halifax that their lordships would not enter into the consideration
of all that had passed on the subject since his Excellency’s arrival,
although, if it were necessary, they could produce instances which would
be sufficient to convince his lordship that their officers were not to be
charged with any unusual strictness in their treatment of his Excellency;
neither would they enforce the necessity of the exact observance of
the laws, or the propriety of the orders lately given for the strict
execution of them, showing the many and notorious abuses which had been
committed under pretence of the privilege; for they were only desirous
to prevent the evil for the future, and not to complain of what was
past.[188]
[Sidenote: FRENCH AMBASSADOR’S ABUSE OF PRIVILEGE.]
Upon another occasion, three constables were sent to the French Embassy
to arrest the ambassador’s ‘gentleman of the horse,’ for having
threatened the life of a woman and to set her house on fire, when the
ambassador caused the gate to be closed, his servants assaulted the
constables and confined them, and he himself tore up the warrant they
presented. This outrage was followed up by de Guerchy’s complaint of
the violation of the privileges of an ambassador, in the attempt to
arrest his _écuyer_ within the court-yard of his Excellency’s house. The
law officers of the Crown having been consulted, the Foreign Secretary
informed the King’s ambassador at the French Court that—
‘the Attorney-General was doubtful whether the ambassador’s
privileges had been violated, but it was clear that his
Excellency’s conduct in the transaction had been highly
improper and illegal.’[189]
It was George III.’s birthday (June 4), and de Guerchy being recognised
in the streets was insulted, and the windows of the Embassy were broken.
‘M. de Guerchy maintains that it is I who excited the people,
because they rather like me, and publicly drink my health and
that of Wilkes. Nothing is more false.’[190]
Writing to Tercier upon these events, D’Eon says:—
‘De Guerchy has written to tell his friend (de Praslin) that
I have threatened to thrust him out of the sanctuary afforded
him by the embassy, which he profanes. This is absolutely
false, but were it even true, is it not still more true that
he has openly violated the dignity of the position confided
to him by the King—(1) in causing a detachment of grenadiers
to be summoned to arrest me, a minister of France, and in
whose house? In that of the minister of the King of England.
(2) In causing me to be poisoned, two days later, at his own
table, to which he had invited me; (3) in wishing to pass me
off for a lunatic; (4) in converting the embassy into a store
for contraband goods. If our Lord chastised the Scribes and
Pharisees, if He scourged the dealers out of the temple, if
our holy father the Pope justly fulminates against the enemies
and profaners of things sacred, does not de Guerchy deserve to
be driven back all the way to Dover at a gallop, with a whip
made of ass’s hide? I have read in the papers that the King has
sent into the Gévaudan M. Antoine with a good pack of harriers
to take the wild beast of Gévaudan.[191] I entreat you to
represent to him that it would be worthy of his good heart to
send hither a second M. Antoine, with a good pack of hounds,
to drive out of England the Count de Guerchy, a thousand times
more cruel and more dangerous than the monster of Gévaudan.
Indeed, I cannot conceive how it is that the English, who have
destroyed all the wolves in England, suffer this new man-wolf
to exist in their midst.’[192]
[Sidenote: IN DANGER OF BEING KIDNAPPED.]
The spies and officers of police sent by the French minister and acting
under the directions of de Guerchy, continued to watch every movement
of the Chevalier, who they no doubt still hoped to kidnap, as had been
the Marquis de Fratteau[193] some years previously. Five were lodged in
Gerrard Street, close to Brewer Street, where he resided. His precautions
he describes to an old friend, Captain Pommard, in Paris. When he
went out, as he did daily, it was with all the vigilance a captain of
dragoons should observe in time of war. His own spies were about. He
had met his enemies, and had any attempt been made against his person,
they would have been cut to pieces by the party he led. Every evening
he reconnoitred at Ranelagh and Vauxhall; but acts of violence were not
to be apprehended in England, and he was more on his guard against the
stratagems of those with whom he was unacquainted, and of his false and
therefore dangerous friends. That French emissaries were actually on
the look-out to seize the Chevalier and carry him off to France in a
vessel appointed for the purpose, does not appear to have been generally
credited in London, judging by the obituary notices which appeared in the
newspapers, where it is stated that if the Chevalier was not the author
of the reports to that effect, he at any rate believed in them.[194]
Were official confirmation of the plan for his abduction needed, it is to
be found in de Guerchy’s handwriting, and in the instructions he asks,
under date June 23, 1764, as to whether D’Eon is to be seized before or
after his trial for libel.
The Chevalier’s case met with a good deal of sympathy, which found its
way into the papers, and exhibited itself in anonymous letters cautioning
him to be wary against his countrymen. His unknown correspondents
recommended him to withdraw to Oxford, Bath, or other distant town,
taking care not to allow even his most discreet friend to know the time
of his departure or his destination.
‘... The people are already agitated, and favourably, in
your behalf, and the greater the agitation the more will the
people be on the _qui vive_ to protect you against any kind of
abduction, by stratagem or by force. Even the ministry will be
obliged, in the interests of the public, to watch against any
such attempts as are contrary to the rights of persons and the
laws of the country....’
He should not leave his house unless accompanied by some trustworthy
person who spoke English and knew London well, and he should never think
of going out at night.... Were any scoundrel sufficiently rash and
villainous to dare to attack him, he should pitilessly shoot him or cut
him in two with his sword.[195] That the Chevalier would have killed the
first man who dared to lay hands upon him was no bombast on his part. He
had written to Lord Mansfield, to the Earl of Bute, Mr. Pitt, and Earl
Temple, to represent what were the designs of the French ambassador, the
risk he hourly incurred of being kidnapped, and to seek their advice. He
informed Lord Mansfield that he did not contract any debts, and avoided
everything that could possibly lead him to an infringement of the laws.
If, therefore, the law would appear to arm itself against his liberty,
he must necessarily conclude it did so under a false pretence, being won
over by the hatred of his enemies to deliver him to them. Such being the
case, might he presume to ask his lordship, he who was the administrator
of those laws which but interpreted primitive and natural laws, might he
presume to inquire whether the necessity for self-defence did not place
him in the position of repelling force by force? He ventured to think
that his lordship’s heart contemplated such extreme measures with dread;
but his equity, as was natural, would readily forgive any evils resulting
therefrom. Such was his position, which he was obliged to bring to
notice, in the hope that his lordship’s equity would offer some counsel
that he was able to follow, and which should be equally in conformity
with the requirements for his safety and with the laws of a country he
loved and to which he owed so much.
[Sidenote: TRIAL FOR LIBEL.]
Towards the end of June, the Chevalier received notice of the charges
upon which he was to be tried, and a summons to appear on July 9,
that being the end of Trinity term. He made an affidavit asking for
adjournment to another term, to enable him to produce four witnesses who
had been expelled the country by orders of the French ambassador. His
application was refused, and it being simply impossible for his counsel,
who knew nothing of French, to read and digest in the course of eight
days his book of six hundred pages in quarto, he made up his mind not
to appear. The trial came on before Lord Chief Justice Mansfield at the
King’s Bench bar on the day appointed, upon information filed against
him by the King’s command, as author of a libel on the Count de Guerchy,
and in default was found guilty.[196]
D’Eon disappeared, and although not readily found, was by no means idle,
for in this same month, July, the Marquis de Blosset, in diplomatic
charge during de Guerchy’s absence on leave,[197] made application to
Lord Halifax that the Chevalier might be compelled to cease printing
certain papers which he believed to be the ‘Négotiations,’ in which his
cousin, D’Eon de Mouloise, and M. la Rochette were also concerned. The
English minister replied that it was impossible to stop the printing of
books when the subject was not known, and on suspicion only;[198] and
here the matter dropped. After a time, a clue having been obtained to the
Chevalier’s place of concealment, the Solicitor-General was consulted
on the legality of force being employed for arresting him and bringing
him to the bar of the Court of King’s Bench to receive sentence upon the
conviction. Sir Henry Norton gave it as his opinion that the officer
having the paper process of the Court of King’s Bench for apprehending
the Chevalier D’Eon, was thereby authorised and might legally break open
the doors of a house though within the verge of the Court or of any other
house, in order to take the Chevalier, if, upon request, the doors of
such house should be refused to be opened; and it being believed that the
house in which D’Eon was secreted stood within the verge of the Court,
the Solicitor-General ruled that any objection on that account might be
easily obviated by a proper application for the purpose.[199] No time
was lost, and on the evening of the same day, November 20, a house in
Scotland Yard, Whitehall, occupied by a Mr. Eddowes, was entered by an
officer and five men, who said they had come with orders to seek and
arrest, or take, dead or alive, the Chevalier D’Eon. They spent an hour
on the premises, bursting open every door, not excepting even that of
the room in which Mr. Eddowes, many years bed-ridden, was lying; and
they were about to force open a closet and bureau, but that Mrs. Eddowes
cautioned them against so doing, as the room contained papers and money
belonging to the King. D’Eon was nowhere about the house, and she had not
seen him for more than two months. The officer, whose conduct had been
outrageous, then left with the search party.[200]
[Sidenote: OUTLAWED.]
Having absconded from justice and failed to surrender himself to the
Court of King’s Bench to receive judgment, the Chevalier was in due
course, that is to say, on June 13, 1765, declared to be outlawed by
judgement of the coroners for the county of Middlesex.[201]
The story must go back a few pages, that we may become the better
acquainted with Treyssac de Vergy with whom we parted at the door of
D’Eon’s back premises, through which he was ignominiously made to pass on
the morning of October 27, 1763, when he had presented himself to settle
an affair of honour pending between himself and the Chevalier. Whatever
the latter’s hiding-place for several months after his conviction, it is
very certain that de Vergy found him out the following September, and
to his great astonishment favoured him one day with a call. Smitten with
remorse and driven by despair, de Vergy had a confession to make which
throws all the light needed on the designs of the triumvirate at Paris
against the liberty and life even of the Chevalier D’Eon.
‘You must be surprised, sir, at this visit,—D’Eon admitted
he was, greatly so—‘but when you are acquainted with the
reason for it, I hope I shall regain in your estimation some
of the respect I justly forfeited upon the occasion of our
last interview. I am a miserable wretch, and you will greatly
despise me for all I am about to say, unless you give me credit
for the remorse I feel and the heroic repentance which compels
me to speak. May my latest acts make amends for the past!’
[Sidenote: BLOOD-THIRSTY MINISTERS.]
De Vergy then placed before the Chevalier the necessary papers to prove
his identity, as he promised he should do in the declaration he had
signed when they last met. He described himself as being a man of good
birth, an advocate of the parliament of Bordeaux, and son-in-law to the
Baroness Fagan; but having squandered his own and his wife’s fortune
in riotous living, had tried his hand at literature, and published, in
1762, a work entitled ‘Les Usages,’ which brought him into favour with
the Count d’Argental, not altogether, perhaps, the most desirable of
patrons; still, he was an intimate friend of de Praslin, and as de Vergy
was a candidate for any employment he could get, his friends advised him
to stick to the count, since he had chanced to please him. De Vergy did
so, and asked for his interest with de Praslin to obtain a nomination
as consul or secretary of Embassy, which resulted in an introduction to
de Guerchy, the new ambassador to London, through whom he was informed
he might possibly obtain the secretaryship of Embassy, in the room of
D’Eon, who had given displeasure at Court. De Guerchy referred him to
d’Argental, and the latter, in a somewhat long interview they had, told
de Vergy that he might have to pay for such an appointment, in case of
need, with personal courage and blind devotion to the orders of the Count
de Guerchy.
‘I have made myself responsible to M. de Guerchy for your
discretion, and have assured him that you will fall in with his
views, and that you will serve him as readily with your sword
as with your pen, according to circumstances.’
‘I cannot understand that a secretary of Embassy need resort to
the first.’
‘You do not know but that you may find yourself in a position
to have to do so.’
‘I do not understand this mystery; pray, sir, explain yourself.’
‘Do you know D’Eon?’
‘No, sir.’
‘They are displeased with him at Court.’
‘Am I to be specially instructed on this point?’
‘He must be ruined.’
‘But is he not already ruined, since he has incurred
displeasure at Court?’
‘It is not this ... it is something else....’
‘I do not understand you.’
‘It is necessary that he should commit himself so seriously....’
‘But how is this to be managed?’
‘I cannot say.’
‘I think, sir, you should express yourself more clearly.’
‘I thought you understood me.’
‘It is really difficult to do so.’
‘Well, then, M. de Guerchy is under orders to bring D’Eon into
disgrace; but a stranger and a skilful hand must do this.’
‘Do you mean to say, sir, that the man about to replace him
should commit a base action?’
‘I do not mean anything; you misunderstand me....’ An awkward
silence of some moments ensued, and the count, rising from
his chair and steadily eyeing de Vergy, said, ‘I was under the
impression, de Vergy, that you were ambitious, and that you
were to be relied upon.’
‘You are not mistaken, sir, but I cannot stray from what I owe
to honour and to my name.’
‘But you are not required to do anything wrong, only lend
yourself to whatever may arise, and take honourable advantage
of it. Go to London, await there the ambassador, and see him
when he arrives. The secretaryship is yours, but you will have
to make yourself worthy of it. You are clever, and I have
explained myself.’
De Vergy went on to say that he was persuaded from this ambiguous
language and the few words de Guerchy had said to him, that he was
required to take part in some machinations, but to what end he could
not conceive. He explained his dilemma to d’Argental, who put him at
his ease by assuring him that he had nothing to fear, and as he was
literally starving, he overcame his scruples and consented to leave
for England where he preceded de Guerchy by several weeks. He was to
assist in encompassing the ruin of D’Eon, and through him of the Count
de Broglio; he was to spread reports injurious to the Chevalier’s
reputation; if possible, to pick a quarrel with him, and write a pamphlet
to his prejudice. It was thus that advantage was to be taken of his
necessitous situation. It was his conscience, not his courage, that made
him wince whilst doing the will of the ambassador, and when he had said
to the Chevalier the evening they met at the Embassy, _You do not know
the fate that awaits you in France_, it was his conscience that spoke
and would warn him, and had the Chevalier replied in an encouraging and
conciliatory manner, de Vergy would have confessed all to him. But he was
depending upon the Count de Guerchy for his very existence.
‘At five-and-twenty,’ he said, ‘the stomach is an integral part
of the conscience. It has a deliberative voice in its internal
decisions, and when to its sharp cry is added the hoarse and
hollow sound from the bowels, their voices united generally
have the preponderance.’
[Sidenote: DE VERGY’S CONFESSION.]
‘I could not help laughing,’ notes D’Eon, ‘at this theory in explanation
of the verdict of our conscience, and de Vergy laughed quite as heartily.’
‘The more pliable to his will did the ambassador find me,’
continued de Vergy, ‘the more exacting did he become. After
having in vain attempted many things against you, even to
poisoning (for let me tell you, sir, that you were poisoned
with opium; I know it from the ambassador himself, and I
now tell you so), it was proposed that I should waylay and
assassinate you. This infamous proposition was made to me at
a moment when all the money I had borrowed for my current
expenses was exhausted, and not having as yet received
anything from the ambassador, I was in the greatest distress.
I had given promissory notes to my landlord for lodging and
board since my arrival in London, notes I hoped to meet with
the salary I expected to receive. Their term had expired,
and unless the money was forthcoming I was in danger of
imprisonment. The Count de Guerchy knew this, and offered me a
purse with one hand, and with the other—a dagger. I rejected
the purse and the dagger. I am a wretch, a villain if you
will, but not an assassin. In a few days I was arrested and
imprisoned for debt. In vain did I appeal to him who made me
leave France and attach myself to his service. My entreaties
and my threats were equally powerless. The first he rejected
because he made sure of your being carried off by the men sent
for the purpose, and I could therefore no longer be of use to
him; he scorned the latter, because I was in confinement and
precluded from doing him harm. But if I could no longer see
and speak to him, I was at least free to write, and I did so.
Having heard of the action against you, I prepared, whilst in
prison, a “Lettre aux Français”[202] in your vindication. The
printing of it was secretly undertaken by Haberkorn of Grafton
Street, when a fellow-prisoner betrayed me. My manuscript was
taken from the printer in virtue of an order from the Chevalier
Norton, and your judge, Lord Mansfield. A warrant was issued
for my removal to Newgate, where I should have found myself
amongst thieves and murderers; but thanks to the assistance
of my relatives and friends I obtained my liberty, and the
first use I make of it is to place myself at your service. The
Count de Guerchy has broken the engagements by which he was in
honour bound to me, and released me from mine. His Excellency
has dared to summon you before the tribunals; make any use you
please in self-defence of the disclosures I have made. I am
at your disposal. I will admit my own faults, and prove your
innocence in London, Paris, or Versailles, over the whole earth
if necessary. Happy, indeed, shall I be to make reparation, by
some little good, for a part of the injury I have caused you!’
‘Are you prepared,’ inquired D’Eon, deeply impressed by these
revelations, ‘to affirm and attach your signature to all you
have been saying to me?’
‘I am prepared to affirm the same, before God and man, to sign
with my hand and seal with my blood.’
‘Very well, M. de Vergy. Do you recollect my last words to you
on October 27, 1763. “If you prove to me that you are an honest
man, I will be the best of your friends.” You have given me
this proof, and henceforth I will keep my word.’ D’Eon took his
hand, and the young man’s eyes filled with tears.
‘My friends wish me to return to Paris; I have no means of
existence in London, but I will get on as best I can, and
remain with you until the time of your trial.’
‘Be it so. You shall share my bread with me.’
Indeed, D’Eon had nothing but a piece of bread to offer, being himself in
sore need; a refugee from the world![203]
[Sidenote: CHARGES AGAINST DE VERGY.]
Whilst preparing his ‘Lettre aux Français’ for the press, de Vergy
enclosed extracts to de Guerchy, and threatened its immediate publication
unless his Excellency would consent to buy it off by sending him the sum
of eighty guineas and granting him some other favours, and he employed an
attorney named Grojan to call at the Embassy, receive the money, and give
a receipt for it. Such, at least, was de Guerchy’s statement, eventually
unsupported as will appear in the sequel; but this circumstance being
brought to the notice of Lord Halifax, the matter was placed in the
hands of the Solicitor-General, by whom it was submitted that de
Vergy’s attempt to extort money from the French ambassador by threats
and vilifying his Excellency and his Court if his demands were not
complied with, was highly criminal, and he might be legally prosecuted
for the same, either by indictment or by information in the name of his
Majesty’s Attorney-General, and if convicted upon the trial would be
brought to condign punishment. Lord Halifax immediately instructed the
Attorney-General to prosecute M. de Vergy by way of information in his
name, and at the expense of the King, giving at the same time notice to
this effect to the French ambassador.[204] Actions for libel, however,
were of such ordinary occurrence at this period of social disorder, that
as many as two hundred informations were filed against printers and
others in the course of the year.