“If you want to know what I am, Monsieur le Duc, I tell you frankly
that I am of use only for thinking, imagining, questioning, reflecting,
comparing, reading, writing, or to run from east to west, from north to
south, to fight over hill and dale. Had I lived in the time of Alexander
or of Don Quixote, I should certainly have been Parmenion or Sancho
Panza. Taken out of my element I will squander the entire revenue of
France in the course of a twelvemonth without committing a single folly,
and afterwards present you with an able treatise on economy.”
Such was the portrait the Chevalier d’Eon sketched of himself for the
Duc de Praslin, at the height of the crisis which shaped his destiny;
and it is exact enough. To show all he could do, to fulfil his destiny
to the end, he should have lived in a country and at a period more
favourable to adventures than was France in the eighteenth century;
strongly organised and firmly established as it was by Louis XIV. Owing
to his lack of respect for this powerful hierarchy and to his efforts
to upset its stability for his own ends, d’Eon, who had begun life as a
gentleman, ended his days equivocally as an adventurer. In his haste to
improve a fortune which was too lagging and parsimonious for his taste,
he exceeded the bounds of legitimate ambition. He set aside all restraint
in his behaviour, forced and wasted his talent, ruined at one stroke
the brilliant prospects to which his courage and intelligence entitled
him, and, passing from one adventure to another, concluded by playing
for over forty years, with skill and tenacity worthy of a better part,
the strangest masquerade on record. He says himself with reference to
the people of Tonnerre, his fellow-townsmen: “They are like the flints
that are found in their vineyards; the harder they are struck the more
fire they give out.” This picturesque image admirably illustrates his
own history and the epic struggle which he maintained with increasing
stubbornness against all who thwarted his ambition.
Nevertheless, his character is an interesting one, and well repays
study. Throughout the calculated extravagance of his adventures, d’Eon’s
indomitable energy persists, and the scandal caused by his conduct a
century and a half ago should not blind us to his genuine services.
There is a sustained interest in following d’Eon into many countries
from Russia to England, and into many surroundings from the court of the
Empress Elizabeth or the camp of Marshal de Broglie to the palace of
Versailles and the shops of London, wherever, in fact, the Chevalier’s
adventures led him for a period of more than sixty years; at one time as
a diplomatist, again as a dragoon, or, as Latour represents him in one
of his charming pastels, as a woman.
“Charles-Geneviève-Louis-Auguste-André-Timothée, son of the noble Louis
d’Eon de Beaumont, director of the King’s demesnes, and of Dame Françoise
de Charenton”—so runs the baptismal certificate—was born at Tonnerre, on
October 5, 1728. He was of petty noble descent and fairly well connected,
and through the situations filled by his kinsmen was sure of finding
patrons of high position. His father had three brothers, all of whom were
in established positions: one, André-Timothée d’Eon de Tissey, advocate
in Parliament and Censor-Royal, was principal secretary to the Duc
d’Orléans; another, Jacques d’Eon de Pommard, advocate in Parliament, was
one of the confidential secretaries to the Comte d’Argenson, Minister of
War; and the third, Michel d’Eon de Germigny, Knight of St. Louis, was
one of the twenty-five gentlemen of the King’s Scottish Guard.
D’Eon’s first years were not marked by any extraordinary or even
noteworthy event. He was put out to nurse at Tonnerre, than which nothing
could be more commonplace; less so, however, was the gratitude he always
retained for this early care. From London, June 1, 1763, he wrote to his
old nurse and foster-mother, informing her that he was ensuring her an
annual pension of a hundred livres, in recognition of the trouble he had
given her. When he was old enough to learn, the care of his education
was entrusted to M. Marcenay, the curé of the Church of St. Peter. At
the age of twelve he was sent to Paris, and completed his studies at the
College Mazarin with distinction. Doctor of Civil and of Canon Law, he
was called to the bar of the Parliament, and at the same time entered
the service of M. Bertier de Sauvigny as secretary, who was a friend of
his family, and intendant of the district of Paris. In 1749 he lost in
the course of five days his father and his eldest uncle, the latter of
whom he presently succeeded in the post of Censor-Royal. Besides these
relatives he had lost other friends who had already shown interest
in him, and whose support would have been invaluable—the Duchesse de
Penthièvre, Marie d’Este, and the Comte d’Ons-en-Bray, President of the
Academy of Science. The losses, however, were not without effect on his
career, for he wrote eulogiums in their honour which attracted attention,
and were inserted in the newspapers and literary magazines of the time.
This testimony of gratitude towards his deceased patrons, the origin of
his public reputation, increased the goodwill of the influential people
interested in his early years. He was received into the intimacy of old
Marshal de Belle-Isle, and frequented the house of the charming Duc de
Nivernais, a perfect type of nobleman, whom he met again as ambassador
in London at the height of his prosperity. He was also known to the
Prince de Conti, who, much engrossed by politics and poetry, was ever
in quest either of a rhyme or of a throne, and was equally unfortunate
in both. The fascination of his ready wit, the lively and original
character of his conversation, his taste for music, and especially for
Italian music, together with that genuine talent for the greatly prized
art of fencing which had obtained for him the title of Grand Prévôt,
soon made him appreciated and sought after in society. Various serious
publications—a historical essay on finance, and also two volumes of
political considerations on the administration of ancient and modern
nations—attracted the attention of influential people, saved him from
all suspicion of frivolity, and won for him the reputation both of an
accomplished gentleman and an indefatigable worker, one which followed
him throughout his career.
In truth, d’Eon was in search of a career, not being the man to remain
long contented with empty social successes. He harassed his patrons,
with true Burgundian zeal and tenacity, in order to obtain from them
employment in which he might win distinction, and perhaps too the favour
and goodwill of the King. Exactly what he wished for happened. The Prince
de Conti, who, as his most influential patron, was doubtless the most
importuned, could not fail to notice the genius for intrigue, the courage
and the adventurous disposition of this “little d’Eon.” Seeing in the
young man a valuable recruit for the difficult enterprise which was then
being planned mysteriously in the King’s cabinet, he spoke of his protégé
to Louis XV., and d’Eon was chosen to accompany the Chevalier Douglas to
Russia, and second him in the dangerous mission with which he was to be
entrusted.
So from the first d’Eon found himself engaged in delicate and
confidential affairs. He formed part of that secret ministry which
the King, with the assistance of the Prince de Conti, the Comte de
Broglie, and M. Tercier, chief clerk at the Foreign Office, directed
in person, and employed to support, or more frequently to oppose and
secretly to ruin, the official policy which he discussed with the
ministers of State. What this strange and mysterious policy was, this
conspiracy against himself, by means of which Louis XV. apparently
desired to take his revenge for the insignificant part in the management
of important affairs to which his indolence and timidity had reduced
him, has been made known since Boutaric’s curious publication of the
secret correspondence, and the interesting work written later by the
Duc de Broglie from the material in the archives of the Ministry for
Foreign Affairs and the papers of his ancestor. The deplorable result of
this secret diplomacy, which did not repair any, or hardly any, of the
blunders of the official policy, and was finally reduced to impotence by
its own conflicting intrigues, is also known, and will appear in part
in these pages. But what will never be known are the endless windings
of this labyrinth, which had blind alleys even for the most initiated,
and in which the King himself at times lost his way; for, writing one
day to Tercier to give him his instructions, he was obliged to confess
that he was becoming somewhat perplexed by the intricacies of all these
affairs. The secret diplomacy mysteriously superseded the official
diplomacy, and extended wherever the King’s representatives were sent.
Sometimes the ambassador himself was admitted into the secret service,
and so found himself confronted by the difficult task of reconciling
the instructions—frequently at variance—of the King and of the Minister
for Foreign Affairs; more often, a secretary of the embassy, or some
subordinate agent, was selected to play this part, becoming thus the
spy of his own chief. While ministers and official ambassadors were as
a rule chosen by the favourite of the time, the agents of the secret
correspondence were enlisted by the King himself, who, out of excessive
mistrust or a stirring of pride, often selected them from among the
enemies of the reigning mistress. All the correspondents of this obscure
policy were paid, or rather suborned, by the King out of his privy purse.
The secret minister, who was first the Prince de Conti and afterwards
the Duc de Broglie, answered for their discretion; their reports were
despatched by safe and indirect means, and then forwarded through the
medium of Tercier and Lebel, the valet, to the King, who took as much
pleasure in reading, annotating and answering them as he showed weariness
when he presided at a cabinet council.
The origin of the secret diplomacy, the object and the organisation of
which underwent frequent modifications, appears to have been the project
cherished by the King, and more especially by the interested party,
of securing for the Prince de Conti the throne of Poland. As for the
idea itself, it may possibly have been suggested to Louis XV. by the
correspondence he kept up at the beginning of his reign with the Marshal
de Noailles. His illness at Metz and the love his people had shown him on
that occasion had, it would seem, illuminated for him his kingly duty,
and so for a time he displayed an ardent desire to conduct himself well,
and a certain determination to devote himself to the government of his
country.
The secret correspondence gives evidence of such inclinations, but
reveals at the same time that lack of decision, that prodigious
selfishness, that spirit of mistrust and dissimulation which spoiled all
the King’s good qualities, and rendered useless the perspicacity and
good sense with which he was so plentifully endowed. The Duc de Luynes
says of him that he spoke and thought _historically_ of public affairs:
this word expresses wonderfully well, not only Louis XV.’s judgment and
penetration, but also the egoistic indifference and dilettanteism with
which he followed what his grandfather had called the “trade of king.”
History has repeatedly shown the consequences of such a disposition both
in a statesman and in a sovereign.
In 1745 several Polish noblemen, disquieted by the state of anarchy and
impotence into which their country had fallen, repaired to Paris with
the object of attaining a more assured future by offering the crown to
a French prince. They thought of the Prince de Conti, grandson of the
man who had been called to the throne of Poland in the reign of Louis
XIV. The King authorised the Prince de Conti to accept their offers, and
resolved to attend to the matter himself, without mentioning it to his
ministers.
Thenceforth he made the Prince come to his study to work with him; but
the very precautions taken to ensure the secrecy of their conferences
excited the curiosity and elicited the comments of the whole court.
One Sunday they noticed that scarcely had the King left his chapel
when he shut himself up with the Prince, and that several secretaries
had been sent for, who spent the whole day busily employed in staining
paper. Another day they saw the Prince go to his Majesty’s apartments,
carrying, with an air of great mystery, some large portfolios. The
Marquis d’Argenson, who relates the incident, set himself to find out the
secret which had thus become common talk. He succeeded in discovering
that the matter in question was to secure the throne of Poland for the
Prince; and in his Memoirs, under date of March 31, 1753, he expresses
himself as follows:—
Here is one of several secrets of which I have just been
informed. The long and frequent labours of the Prince de Conti
with the King solely concern the project for making the Prince
King of Poland. I had already seen that this project was being
secretly elaborated and was known to the King only; but I could
not believe he thought of it seriously. Meanwhile he has been
persuaded it is a simple matter—for it is ever thus that great
and ruinous projects are made to appear to superficial and
unsystematic minds. That is the beginning of these assiduous
and oft-repeated efforts of the Prince de Conti with the King,
for the Prince sometimes receives despatches when out hunting,
and forthwith scribbles a few lines which he sends to the King
by his messengers. Only the other day he came to work with the
King, and returned to the Isle-Adam immediately afterwards.
This secret correspondence cannot be attributed to other
matters of state for he has no influence in any other affairs.
On this last point d’Argenson’s perspicacity was at fault, for the Prince
de Conti’s influence, aided besides by the King’s partiality for this
kind of conspiracy, had proved powerful enough to spread the network of
secret diplomacy over nearly the whole of Europe. The chief object was
still the throne of Poland; but the means of ensuring its conquest had
increased and widened, which, as often happens, proved detrimental to the
success of the enterprise.
The mission with which d’Eon was to be entrusted was connected with the
intricate scheme of these mysterious negotiations. For fourteen years
diplomatic relations had been discontinued between France and Russia.
The irregular and discourteous proceedings, which had led to the Marquis
de la Chétardie being somewhat unceremoniously escorted to the frontier
at the time of his last embassy, had left Elizabeth with a feeling of
resentment which her liking for Louis XV. had not entirely effaced,
and which the Grand Chancellor, Bestuchef, an avowed enemy of France,
did all he could to promote and to revive. The personal sentiments
of the Empress, her dislike for Englishmen and Prussians, were known
at Versailles, and since that deplorable rupture attempts had been
repeatedly made to renew relations, which seemed all the more important
in proportion as the friendship of the King of Prussia appeared more
deceptive and treacherous. Many envoys had set out, bearing letters from
Louis XV. to Elizabeth, but all had failed. Russia was far from being
easy of access, and Bestuchef’s agents, who kept a good watch at the
frontier, had managed to detect all these political smugglers. One of
them, the Chevalier de Valcroissant, had avoided detection; but, having
been followed and recognised in the interior of the empire, he was
arrested and confined in the fortress of Schlüsselburg, on Lake Ladoga,
where his jailers were barbarous enough to put him into irons. The
wretched man had been in prison for a year when the enterprise which had
turned out so badly for him was attempted again.
Among the Prince de Conti’s protégés was Sir Mackenzie Douglas, who had
come to offer his services to France. His attachment to the Stuarts had
compelled him to seek refuge in flight, and his hatred of the English
left no doubt as to the eagerness with which he would undertake a
mission directed against them. Douglas had given proofs of his courage
in accompanying the Pretender in his romantic wanderings. A knowledge of
mineralogy enabled him to give his journey the plausible appearance of
a scientific expedition. His English nationality and his ability were
relied on to avert all suspicions.
The scheme thus devised was approved by the King, who deemed it prudent
to impart it to his ministers, doubtless the better to conceal the
essential part of the negotiations. The Minister for Foreign Affairs,
Monsieur Rouillé, gave his sanction, and countersigned Douglas’ mission.
The instructions, which were delivered to Douglas by the Prince de Conti
immediately after they had been submitted to the King (they were written
in small characters and enclosed in the false bottom of a tortoise-shell
snuff-box), specified the route he was to take and the principal subjects
upon which he was to obtain information.
He was directed to leave as an ordinary traveller, supplied with the
usual passport; to enter Germany through Suabia, so as to avoid the great
capitals, and to pass thence into Bohemia, “under pretext of visiting
for his personal instruction the several mines in that kingdom.” From
Bohemia he was to proceed to Saxony, not omitting to inspect the mines at
Freiberg, and after spending a few days at Dantzig he was to continue his
journey to St. Petersburg, passing through Prussia, Courland and Livonia.
He had strict injunctions to become acquainted with the progress of the
negotiations undertaken by Sir Hanbury Williams, the British ambassador,
with a view to obtaining troops from Russia. He was, subsequently, to
examine the resources of that country; the state of its finance and
commerce; to note the number of the troops and fleets; to learn the
extent of the influence wielded by Count Bestuchef and Count Woronzow;
to study the factions of the court; and to find out as far as possible
the sentiments of the Empress herself. He was directed, besides, but
cursorily and without insistence, to inquire into “the views of Russia in
regard to Poland, both immediately and for the future.” Lastly, he was to
observe the utmost discretion, and was never to risk anything through the
post except the briefest intimations, written in a cryptic phraseology,
which had been agreed upon beforehand, and the alleged subject of which
was the purchase of furs. Sir Hanbury Williams became the black fox, and
Bestuchef the lynx; squirrel skins were to signify troops in the pay of
England, and so forth.
All these preparations were completed during the summer of 1755; and
Douglas was able to begin his journey with no more ado than would an
ordinary English tourist.
There are no documents relating to the journey itself; it is only known
that Douglas arrived safely at St. Petersburg in the beginning of
October, 1755, and that he was received and treated there as an English
gentleman travelling for amusement and instruction. But so far he had
only fulfilled the easiest part of his mission; he had still to reach
the Empress. The difficulties were great, for Sir Hanbury Williams, the
British ambassador, being aware of Elizabeth’s personal feelings, was
keeping a good watch, and had arranged with Bestuchef that no Englishman
should be admitted at court unless he were presented by himself. Douglas,
therefore, applied to him, as a loyal subject of the King of England to
his natural protector, requesting the ambassador to present him to the
Czarina. Sir Hanbury, however, was on his guard, for the journey of this
Scottish Catholic who had come to Russia to pursue geological studies,
and was so anxious to see the Empress, appeared to him highly suspicious.
He therefore warned Bestuchef to have his fellow-countryman carefully
watched; and Douglas, informed that Valcroissant’s fate threatened him,
crossed the frontier post-haste. It seemed to be a fresh defeat; but less
than five months afterwards, in the spring of 1756, Douglas returned to
St. Petersburg. Before long he was admitted everywhere, even to the great
audience chamber, where he solemnly presented to the Czarina letters
accrediting him as Minister Plenipotentiary, charged with renewing
diplomatic relations. D’Eon was there to assist the new minister, whom he
was seconding in his official mission, as secretary of embassy.
What had passed during the winter, and who was responsible for this
remarkable change? How was it that Douglas, who was defeated at St.
Petersburg, had conquered from Paris? Historians disagree on this point;
and the absence of clear, positive and authentic documents further
increases the mystery. Tradition attributes the success of the enterprise
to d’Eon, who is said to have arrived secretly in Russia in Douglas’
company, and to have found the means of prolonging his stay there after
the Chevalier’s flight. The legendary story is full of romantic details
of the artifices devised by the young man to elude the watchful eye of
Bestuchef, and to reach the Empress.
The story goes that little d’Eon, taking advantage of his slender figure,
his delicate beardless face, and his feminine voice, assumed the name,
attire and habits of a young girl. In this manner the Chevalier Douglas
introduced his niece, Mademoiselle Lia de Beaumont, to Count Woronzow,
Vice-Chancellor of the Empire, and the avowed enemy of the Chancellor.
Perceiving how useful this new ally might be to his policy, Woronzow
undertook to obtain his admission at court as maid-of-honour to the
Empress. D’Eon was not slow to ingratiate himself with Elizabeth, and
then resolved to disclose his deception, and the hidden purpose of his
journey, by delivering to the Czarina the King’s letters which he had
brought with him, concealed in the binding of one of Montesquieu’s
books. The romantic nature of the adventure amused and captivated the
Empress, who, far from bearing him ill-will, was grateful to little
d’Eon for his daring and for his message, and entrusted him with her
reply to the King, which was entirely favourable to the renewal of
friendly relations between the two courts. It was then that the Chevalier
Douglas returned at the head of the official mission in which d’Eon
participated—undisguised this time, in the capacity of secretary of
embassy, a fact which joins tradition to history.
This story is mentioned by most of the historians of the period in
serious works, and even in the otherwise well-substantiated account which
Gaillardet wrote, fifty years ago, to establish “the truth about the
mysteries of the life of the Chevalier d’Eon.” Like all traditions, it is
an amalgam composed of much fiction and a substratum of truth, and, like
most, it is grounded on evidence and even on a few documents which make
it look genuine.
Nevertheless, the objection still holds good that it is wildly
improbable; and this is the chief argument put forward by the Duc de
Broglie, and, after him, by M. Albert Vandal, in favour of its rejection
as an ingenious and romantic concoction.
But that is not all; even the examination of authentic documents, far
from throwing light on this minor historical point, tends to increase its
obscurity. There have been discovered among d’Eon’s private papers the
originals of several letters which he received from Tercier, when he was
preparing to leave France for Russia. These letters show that he took his
departure in the beginning of June, 1756, and seem to prove that this
was his first journey, being sent to St. Petersburg on that occasion—but
on that occasion only—to assist Douglas in bringing about the alliance
of the two courts, and the realisation of the Prince de Conti’s secret
ambition.
In that case the honour of having obtained official recognition for
Douglas at St. Petersburg must be ascribed to another; but it will
be seen that d’Eon undertook and conducted to a successful issue
negotiations of so delicate a nature that no one can be said to suffer
by comparison with him. The clever intermediary of the reconcilement
of Louis XV. and Elizabeth appears to have been simply a worthy French
merchant of St. Petersburg, called Michel, the care of whose own
affairs did not prevent him from applying himself with as much ability
as disinterestedness to those of his country. This Michel, a native of
Rouen, was often obliged, in the course of business, to travel all the
way from St. Petersburg to the town of his birth, and had already, in
1753, carried a private message to Versailles from the Empress, in which
she expressed herself willing to forget the offensive behaviour of La
Chétardie and to renew friendly relations with a monarch in whom she had
never ceased to take great interest.
Regard for a policy directed at that time against Russia had prevented
Louis XV. from responding to these first overtures. Elizabeth did not
risk a second rebuff; but she let it be understood that her personal
sentiments had not changed. According to La Messelière, afterwards
secretary of embassy in Russia to the Marquis de L’Hospital, a
miniature-painter named Sompsoy, who was reproducing the Czarina’s
features, learnt from her positive proof of her friendly sentiments. When
he assured her, in the course of a sitting, that Louis XV., as well as
his subjects, revered the name of Elizabeth he was rewarded by “a smile
of which he caught the expression, and which made the success of the
portrait.” La Messelière adds that the Empress, having thought the matter
over, gave the artist “more sittings than he required for the painting,”
and concluded by charging him to inform the King that French gentlemen
might count on a warm reception at her court. Sompsoy discharged the
commission faithfully, but it was thought undesirable to entrust him with
the reply, for it would have necessitated at the same time the disclosure
both of the King’s secret correspondence and of the Prince de Conti’s
projects. It was agreed, therefore, that he should remain in Paris, and
Douglas be sent to Russia in his place.
We have seen how and why he failed in his first mission; but before he
had left St. Petersburg the excellent idea occurred to him of conferring
with the Sieur Michel, whose services and goodwill he could count upon,
informing him who had sent him and for what purpose. Michel, unperturbed
by the risk he was running in associating with one who was already
under suspicion, introduced him to Woronzow, who apprized the Empress.
Elizabeth expressed herself willing to receive an envoy-extraordinary
from the King, and Douglas, armed with this promise, coolly eluded
Bestuchef’s spies, and took his departure for France. During his absence
Michel continued to negotiate with Woronzow, and let the Chevalier know
when the opportune moment arrived for his reappearance. Douglas then
returned to St. Petersburg; but he deemed it prudent to travel under
an assumed name, and to conceal himself on his arrival in his friend’s
house, who passed him off as one of his clerks. Here d’Eon rejoined
him, despatched officially by Monsieur Rouillé, Minister for Foreign
Affairs, to the Vice-Chancellor, Woronzow, to act as his “companion and
confidential man, whose sole duties should consist in looking after
a fine library and transacting some important business with France.”
D’Eon was indeed surprised to find Count Woronzow’s “fine library” on a
single shelf, whereas he, a humble private person, had left at the Comte
d’Ons-en-Bray’s a large room and six chests full of books. Douglas was
delighted to keep so earnest a collaborator, and forthwith informed the
Minister for Foreign Affairs of the decision to which he had just come in
regard to the young secretary:
“I am very greatly pleased at the arrival of M. d’Eon,” he wrote; “I
have been long acquainted with his zeal, and his attachment to his work.
He will be most useful to me, and also of good service to the King.
Besides, he is steady and prudent. I introduced him yesterday evening
to the Vice-Chancellor, Count Woronzow, who received him kindly and
courteously, and seemed greatly pleased with him. Upon consideration, he
was not of his former opinion; he now thinks that the original plan for
the accomplishment of his mission should not be followed, for particular
reasons known to the Empress, which I shall have the honour of specifying
later.”
Chevalier Douglas and d’Eon were exerting themselves at that time to
thwart the combined intrigues of the Chancellor, Bestuchef, and the
British ambassador, Sir Hanbury Williams. This they succeeded in doing,
thanks to the support of Woronzow and also that of Count Ivan Schouvalow,
at that time the favourite of the Empress. Douglas, accompanied by d’Eon,
was solemnly received in audience as the Envoy of the King of France.
Nevertheless, their enemies did not consider themselves beaten, taking
many measures and even attempting assassination, if we are to believe
La Messelière, who relates that pistols were fired one night at their
windows. But their credit with Elizabeth became greater than ever, and
the negotiations soon took, at least in part, an extremely favourable
turn.
These negotiations were, indeed, twofold, comprising those of which
the Minister for Foreign Affairs was kept informed, and those of which
reports were sent directly to the King and the Prince de Conti through
the medium of Tercier. The object of the official mission was to bring
about the reconciliation of the two countries, to detach Russia from the
English alliance so as to compel her to sign the treaty which France had
just concluded with her old enemy, Austria. That of the secret commission
was to induce the Empress to favour a French prince’s candidature for the
throne of Poland, and even to engage her affections on behalf of Conti.
That prince aspired to a throne and, if he could not reign in his own
right in Poland, was quite resigned to participate as Elizabeth’s consort
in the government of a great empire. Moreover, the realisation of either
of these ambitious dreams would have served the political interests of
France equally well. Whether Conti was king in Poland or the Czarina’s
consort in Russia, Louis XV. had the aid of an ally capable of flanking
his enemies: Frederick, with whom he had just fallen out, and Maria
Theresa, with whom he had just been reconciled, but upon whose prolonged
fidelity he hardly ventured to count.
Everything had been thought of to draw Elizabeth into this intrigue.
Tercier had entrusted to d’Eon a quarto volume of _L’Esprit des Lois_,
in the binding of which, between two pieces of cardboard, enclosed and
bound up in the same calfskin, were concealed private letters from the
King to the Empress, as well as several cyphers. One was for d’Eon’s
correspondence with the King and Tercier, another for d’Eon’s use
in communicating with the Prince de Conti and M. Monin, and a third
designed to enable Elizabeth or her confidant, Woronzow, to correspond
at any time with Louis XV. through the medium of Tercier, without the
ministers and ambassadors becoming aware of it. Elizabeth, who did not
share the King’s fondness for dissimulation, and never concealed even her
wildest caprices, proved insensible to the attraction of this mysterious
correspondence. She declined the cypher, but received d’Eon, and
consented to listen to the King’s and the Prince de Conti’s overtures.
She showed, however, no inclination to marry the Prince, and even avoided
pledging herself in regard to Poland. All she promised was to appoint
Conti Commander-in-Chief of the Russian troops, with the title of Duke of
Courland, provided the King granted his cousin permission to accept her
offer and to proceed to St. Petersburg. And there, on another account,
the matter stopped, for while d’Eon was negotiating for him in Russia
the Prince was ruining his prospects at Versailles. By incurring the
displeasure of the Marquise de Pompadour, whom he had believed himself
strong enough to set at defiance and to ridicule almost openly, he lost
favour with the King, who ceased to place the secret diplomacy at the
disposal of his ambitious cousin. D’Eon received instructions to protract
the negotiation and to correspond in future only with Tercier and the
Comte de Broglie, who succeeded the Prince de Conti as secret minister in
the middle of the year 1757.
If the private parleys met with only partial success, which was soon
made altogether useless by Conti’s disgrace, the result of the official
mission was more satisfactory. Thanks to the patient and persistent
efforts of Douglas and d’Eon, the treaty concluded some months before
between Bestuchef and Sir Hanbury Williams was annulled. Russia remitted
to England the subsidies she had already received, but recalled her
troops; it was decided that the eighty thousand men, who were already
assembled in Livonia and Courland for the service of England and Prussia
should change sides and unite with the armies of Louis XV. and Maria
Theresa. At the same time it was resolved that, in order to indicate more
clearly the character of the relations about to be established between
France and Russia, there should be an interchange of ambassadors of high
rank between the two courts. The choice of France fell on the Marquis
de L’Hospital, and that of Russia on Count Bestuchef, the Chancellor’s
brother.
Russia, then, had broken off her alliance to join the new Franco-Austrian
coalition. This unexpected change caused some surprise in France, but
met with general commendation, and the success of the negotiations
appeared to be assured. Such was not the case, however, for an objection
raised by Bestuchef, who was striving to revenge himself for his defeat
by sowing discord among his triumphant opponents, very nearly caused the
whole affair to be reconsidered, and threatened for a time to wreck the
transactions.
In soliciting Russia’s ratification of the treaty just concluded at
Versailles, France and Austria had entertained the idea of stipulating
for one exception to the general alliance which they were about to
contract with the cabinet of St. Petersburg. This exception concerned
Turkey, France’s old ally, and certainly a source of danger to Russia
less formidable than was Russia to her.
It soon occurred to Bestuchef to make this restriction the
stumbling-block of the alliance to which he was so strongly opposed. He
endeavoured to make Elizabeth believe that should she assent to this
humiliating condition she would be profaning the ancient Muscovite gospel
and disowning the duty held sacred by her predecessors—the delivery of
Constantinople. In treating with Austria he artfully urged that it was
no more to her interest than to Russia’s to bind herself with regard to
Turkey, her past enemy and her future prey. This argument prevailed at
Vienna, the cabinet being all the more easily persuaded as hostilities
had been resumed, and as Frederick’s victorious advance in Austrian
territory had already raised apprehensions far greater than any that
conjectural events could inspire. Austria, therefore, entered eagerly
into an alliance with Russia, and, conscious of the immediate danger,
took no account of France’s allies, the Turks.
Then it was that Douglas began to fear he would lose all the fruits
of his labour, and, though d’Eon advised him to stand his ground,
he resolved to have recourse to an expedient devised by Austria’s
representative at St. Petersburg, Count Esterhazy, a man devoid of
scruples as to the means of attaining his ends. It was agreed that the
Porte should be guaranteed against the alliance in an ostensible treaty
to be transmitted to Constantinople, but that the exceptional clause
should be itself annulled by an article called _secrétissime_. This
despicable artifice, a real humiliation for France, allowed Russia full
scope for her aggressive designs, while giving to the Turks a false and
dangerous security.
Douglas consented; but, happily, his transactions aroused the utmost
indignation at Versailles, and the ratification to the agreement was
refused. The official and the secret ministers were for once of the
same mind, and each of them sent to Douglas bitter reproaches for his
weakness, and his want of dignity, and the King, however great his desire
to obtain official recognition for the reconciliation, shared those
opinions.
Douglas was extremely mortified at the reproaches which assailed him
from all quarters, and was at a loss how to save both his threatened
reputation and the result of all his prolonged negotiations. It was d’Eon
who got him out of this scrape.
Having first secured the support of Elizabeth’s favourite, Schouvalow,
who had been recently won over to the French party, the intrepid young
diplomat made a sudden attack on the terrible Bestuchef. He had a wordy
quarrel with him which greatly entertained the favourite, and even the
Empress, who endured, rather than liked, the omnipotent Chancellor.
Bestuchef was beside himself with rage, but finally gave in, not daring
to thwart Elizabeth in her increasing desire to enter into an alliance
with France. The _secrétissime_ clause was torn up, and the Chevalier
Douglas hastened to inform the Minister for Foreign Affairs of the happy
issue of the dispute. So far, indeed, did his satisfaction and his
gratitude surpass his natural jealousy that he even insisted that d’Eon
himself should be the bearer to the court of Versailles of Elizabeth’s
ratification to the treaty, and the Russian plan of army operations for
the ensuing campaign. The Empress was not less thankful to the young
French secretary for the victory he had gained over her own Chancellor,
and, to crown the irony of the situation, it was Bestuchef himself whom
she made her mouthpiece. Shortly before his departure, d’Eon was invited
to call on the Chancellor, who received him graciously, overwhelmed him
with congratulations, and presented him with three hundred ducats as a
token of the Czarina’s favour. He set out in high spirits, his wallet
filled with Elizabeth’s money and the most flattering testimonials from
the Chevalier Douglas, who was generous enough not to bear him a grudge
for the services he had rendered him.
On approaching Warsaw he met an imposing procession, “the main part of
which was made up of twenty-three berlins and twenty-three waggons.”
Couriers, equerries and numerous liveried servants were crowding round
the luxuriously appointed coaches, astonishing the peasants, unaccustomed
to the sight of so resplendent a pageant. It was the embassy of the
Marquis de L’Hospital, who was on his way to St. Petersburg, where he was
to take the place of Douglas. No expense had been spared to make that
mission as famous for the rank of the secretaries attached to it as for
the splendour of the carriages by which it was conveyed. The ambassador
was escorted by the Marquis de Bermond, the Marquis de Fougères, the
Baron de L’Hospital, the Baron de Wittinghoff, M. de Teleins, and the
Comte de La Messelière, whose account of the journey has been handed down
to us.
Availing himself of this chance meeting, d’Eon retraced his steps as far
as Bialestock, and accompanied the Marquis de L’Hospital to the house
of the great Polish General Branicky. On the way he gave the ambassador
the latest news of the Russian court, informed him that the annulment of
the secret clause was an accomplished fact, doubtless without concealing
the active part he had taken in the successful transaction, and left him
overjoyed at not having so unpleasant a matter to settle on entering
upon his functions at St. Petersburg. D’Eon then urged on the six horses
which he had attached to his chaise, and crossed the plateaux of Moravia
and Silesia post-haste. Stopped on the road by a band of four hundred
Prussian deserters, he threw to them part of the Czarina’s ducats, and
reached Vienna at nightfall. Here, despite his furious protestations,
the customs’ officials prevented him from entering the city, and he had
to resign himself to waiting in a guard-room of hussars until he could
obtain a pass from the embassy. He was thinking of staying at Vienna for
the arrival of the Comte de Broglie, the new secret minister, who was on
his way to his post in Poland, when news came of the Austrian victory won
at Prague, on May 6, over the King of Prussia. He at once set out again,
never halting, exhausting his horses, and driving at such reckless speed
that he fell headlong and broke his leg. Barely allowing time to have his
injury attended to he continued his journey with the same hot haste, and
arrived at Paris, prostrate, and burnt up with fever, but outstripping
by thirty-six hours the courier sent by Prince Kaunitz to the Austrian
ambassador at the court of France, and so bringing simultaneously the
first tidings of two happy events.
Louis XV. was glad of the message and highly pleased with the messenger,
whose unflagging zeal impressed and flattered him the more as it emanated
from one of the agents of his secret correspondence. He instantly
despatched his own surgeon to the limping courier, and a few days later
sent him a gratuity from the privy purse, a gold snuff-box ornamented
with pearls, and a commission as lieutenant of dragoons. This last mark
of favour d’Eon prized more highly than all the others, and it did much
to hasten his recovery, which promptly followed. He was the first to
acknowledge that by falling he had picked up a fortune, since, thanks
to his broken leg, he was now a lieutenant of dragoons honoured by the
King, having henceforward, both literally and figuratively, a foot in
the stirrup. Nevertheless, he remained in the diplomatic service, his
initial success showing how profitably he might still be employed in
that career, and he had to rest content for a few years with an honorary
rank in the army. During the period of compulsory relaxation which ensued
after his return to Paris, d’Eon occupied his time in drawing up notes
relating to his mission.