GOWER,
Chamberlain to the King of England.
This polite, but explicit, note marks the end of the Chevalier d’Eon’s
ordered career, confirming, in the name of the King of England, the
revocation of the minister plenipotentiary of the King of France,
brought about by his excessive ambition. Officially repudiated by the
sovereign who had sent him and by the sovereign who had received him,
d’Eon was now divested of his dignity. Anybody else would have given
way to despondency, and asked pardon. The Chevalier, however, became
more insolent and intractable than ever. Unable to believe his patrons
had deserted him, and relying, in spite of everything, on the secret
support of the King, d’Eon deemed himself still capable of holding his
own against Guerchy. It was, in fact, the latter who was obliged to own
himself beaten, and to give an account of his defeat to the King in
person:
I have been expecting to execute the orders contained in the
letter your Majesty did me the honour to address to me from
Fontainebleau on November 4, before replying to it, but I
have found it quite impossible to do so, notwithstanding the
various means employed. Your Majesty will have been informed,
by my despatch, of the obstacles I meet in my endeavours to
possess myself of d’Eon’s papers, for he persistently refuses
to deliver them to me, in spite of the order he has received
from M. de Praslin in the name of your Majesty. This shows his
lack of wisdom, which, however, is not elsewhere apparent. Your
Majesty will also have been informed that the court of St.
James’ has authoritatively refused my request, replying that
it is against the laws of the country. Nevertheless, the King
of England and his ministers are extremely anxious to get rid
of d’Eon. I have found it impossible to seize him, either by
force or by stratagem, because he no longer lives in my house,
nor has he been here since running to such extremes....
I am deeply grieved, Sire, at being unable to furnish your
Majesty upon this occasion with proofs of the fervent zeal by
which I shall be actuated throughout my life....
D’Eon had once more evaded Guerchy’s plots, and had laughed at the
ambassador’s official steps as he did at his secret intrigues. He had
beguiled Monin, de Guerchy’s secretary, with false confidences, and had
let him believe that the important documents which he possessed were
not in England. As for the police officers sent from Paris to carry
him off, he intimidated them, only going out in the company of several
people and remaining for the most part entrenched in his lodging. “His
bedroom, sitting-room, study, and staircase were undermined; and he kept
a lamp burning throughout the night.... The garrison consisted of several
dragoons of his old regiment, and some deserters picked up in London, who
occupied the ground-floor.” These precautions, which would appear to be
a gross fabrication had they not been the work of an adventurer anxious
above all to impress public opinion, were quite superfluous. English law
was a surer protection to d’Eon than “the four brace of pistols, the
two guns, and the eight sabres of his arsenal,” and Lord Halifax, when
questioned as to the fate that awaited him, replied: “He had better keep
quiet; tell him his behaviour is abominable, but his person inviolable.”
[Illustration: MADEMOISELLE DE BEAUMONT
_From a Caricature in the London Magazine, Sept. 1777_]
Sure henceforth of being unmolested, d’Eon obstinately refused to come
to terms, and de Guerchy, having exhausted his means of coercing a man
who “put his minister’s letters of recall in his pocket and refused to
return the ministerial papers,” decided upon drawing up an official
statement of his refusal. He proceeded to d’Eon’s lodging towards the
end of December, and the drawing-up of the report gave rise to a scene
in which the Chevalier lost all self-control. Striding up and down the
room, he gesticulated, and declared “that he would rather die than
deliver up the King’s papers, and that they would have to take them at
the muzzle of his gun.” D’Eon signed this statement, which was destined
to furnish Versailles with a formal proof of his folly. Louis XV. had
ceased, moreover, to take any interest in d’Eon, dreading his disputes
and bitterly regretting “the choice of such an agent.” He determined upon
keeping him at a distance, without appearing to desert him entirely; and
if d’Eon obtained fresh favours in the sequel he owed them to the fear
he inspired rather than to the esteem he had won by his former services.
The King wrote to Tercier on December 30: “I do not believe that M. d’Eon
is mad, but he is presumptuous and a very extraordinary person. I think
we must allow some time to elapse and support him with a little money;
let him remain where he is in safety, and above all let him refrain from
fresh action.”
Harassed by these several persecutions to which his pride had exposed
him, and openly blamed in Paris and at Versailles, d’Eon found himself
deserted, even by his friends. The little Burgundian town which had never
ceased to follow his career with interest, while predicting a brilliant
future for him, now re-echoed the general reprobation. His relatives
began to doubt if he was in his right senses, and his aged mother was
thinking of coming to London herself, to implore his submission to the
King’s orders. But d’Eon wrote to her at the end of this eventful year,
with his wonted triumphant self-assurance:
I have received, my dear mother, all the woeful and piteous
letters you have taken the trouble to write to me. Why weepest
thou, woman of little faith? as Scripture says. What is there
in common between your affairs at Tonnerre and my political
affairs in London? Go on planting your cabbages in peace,
weeding your garden, and eating its fruit; drink the milk of
your cows and the wine of your vines, and spare me the idle
chatter of Paris and Versailles, and your tears, which grieve
but do not comfort me. Not that I am in need of consolation,
for I am not in the least sad, and my heart plays the violin
and even the double-bass, as I have already written to you,
because I do my duty, and my enemies, who call themselves great
men, do not perform theirs—being guided in their actions by
caprice and personal interests, and not in the least by the
interests of justice and the welfare of the King and country.
Let them do as they please, I will do as I think proper.... I
do not fear the thunderbolts of these little Jupiters, be they
far or near. That is all I have to say; therefore set your
mind at ease, as mine is, and if you come to see me in London
I shall be delighted, and I will take as good care of you as
I do of the court despatches and the accounts of the Comte de
Guerchy, which he will not have except on good grounds, with
colours flying, ammunition at hand, and drums beating. He shall
not even have the envelopes of the letters, I swear it to you
by all that is sacred, unless he brings to me an authentic
order from the King, my master and his, and this is what he has
not been able to effect hitherto.
... If you wish to do what is best, remain quietly in your
charming retreat at the gate of Tonnerre, and do not return to
Paris unless the court pays your travelling expenses in some
surer way than it has mine, and remember that, whether men
praise or blame you, you are none the better or the worse. _The
glory of the righteous is in their conscience, and not in the
praise of men._
V