While demanding the restitution of the warrant commissioning d’Eon to
make surveys in England with a view to an invasion of that country,
Louis XV. had no intention of depriving himself of any services his
secret agent could still render him in the capacity of informant. He knew
that d’Eon had a thorough knowledge of the country, that he was well
received in the upper classes of English society, and that he enjoyed
genuine popularity, and consequently invaluable influence, in the lower.
The King was anxious only to recover possession of a document bearing
his own signature, which in the hands of an adventurer might prove
dangerous, if not to French diplomacy, at least to the security of the
secret correspondence. But, in his haste to make sure of the Chevalier’s
silence, he omitted to demand the restitution of other papers which
touched him less personally—namely, the instructions for the mission,
written by the Comte de Broglie, and the entire correspondence relating
to that subject, not to mention original despatches and copies which
had been kept by d’Eon after his temporary position at the embassy.
D’Eon had carefully refrained from parting with such precious documents,
which might yet enable him to bring pressure to bear upon a government
from whom he had received more promises than pay. Appeased by de
Guerchy’s death, and less apprehensive, he applied himself again to the
secret correspondence. Moreover, the Comte de Broglie gave him every
encouragement in his letters. He tried also to make him realise the full
extent of the last royal favours, and recommended him “to conduct himself
with modesty and wisdom in future, and to abandon the romantic pose for
the attitude and speech of a sensible man. Thus, and in course of time,”
he added, “your talents will be remembered.... With an honest heart and a
brave spirit, but not a fierce or violent one, the hatred and envy of the
whole universe may be overcome.”
In another letter, written somewhat later, in which one can see the
personal anxiety caused by the weapons remaining in his correspondent’s
hands, the Comte de Broglie urged d’Eon to win the good-will of M.
du Châtelet, the new ambassador, by delivering to M. Durand, who
was returning to France, “the ministerial and other papers of every
description” which were still in his possession. He concluded as follows:
“I have received nothing from you since the letter I wrote to you in
cypher at the end of last month. You have not acquainted me with what has
passed in the interior of England. I recollect, and have not concealed
from his Majesty, that you attribute the fact to the absence of your
friend, Mr. Cotes, from the capital, but your ingenuity should supply the
deficiency.”
The reproach itself proves how greatly the Comte de Broglie prized
the information supplied by his correspondent. Entirely divested of
any official position, d’Eon was still a newsmonger to whom the
King’s secret counsellors constantly applied, and whose communications
frequently influenced them in their decisions. His cultivated mind and
natural curiosity had enabled him to acquire knowledge of state affairs
while engaged in diplomatic negotiations. Unreasonable in his personal
resentments, pretentious and imprudent in all that concerned himself,
in politics he was a discerning judge, an accurate, and frequently a
shrewd, observer. His fertile imagination, though wanting in tact, gave
facts a graphic and original turn. The portraits he sketched, with a
slight tendency towards caricature, were nevertheless faithful. “D’Eon,”
says the Duc de Broglie, “was the precursor, if not the first, of those
political reporters who play so important a part in the destinies of all
the European parliaments.” He delighted and excelled in his task.
If d’Eon declined to follow the Comte de Broglie’s interested advice on
the subject of the “ministerial papers,” he at all events showed that
he was affected by the reproaches he had incurred for his negligence.
Thus, during the course of rather over seven years, we find him drawing
up reports, which he entitled “political letters,” and which he sent to
the secret minister, either corresponding in cypher under his own name,
or openly under the name of William Wolf. In these reports he discourses
on war and finance; gives brief statements of home administration and
colonial aspirations; relates carefully parliamentary debates and party
quarrels; and does not omit to mention the little incidents of the
court and the intrigues of the diplomatists. In one of his letters,
selected from among many others, in which he expatiates on the question
of _General Warrants_—a burning question in England at that time—he
reports the love affairs of the royal princes. The Duke of York,
surprised with a lady by her jealous husband, had just received a sword
thrust in the shoulder; his brother, the Duke of Gloucester, on the
point of contracting a secret marriage, was to be sent abroad. The Duke
of Brunswick neglected his wife because he had discovered that she had
contracted the king’s evil, which had broken out on the leg.
In this same letter, after this scandalous gossip (which, however, is not
always a negligible quantity in politics), d’Eon touches lightly upon
a matter of the greatest interest—namely, the overtures made to him by
Lord Bute, the ex-minister, with a view to an eventual restoration of
the Stuarts. Concerning this the Chevalier stated as his own point of
view that “men and matters were not sufficiently matured.” The Comte de
Broglie hastened to reply that he should follow up the proposals without
binding himself; but the project, so frequently considered by France,
was once again abandoned. In the same year d’Eon informed the cabinet of
Versailles and Prince Masseran, the Spanish Ambassador, of “England’s
design to invade Mexico and Peru in the approaching war, on the plan
devised by the Marquis d’Aubarède, who was in receipt of a pension from
England.” But the sphere of his inquiries was not confined to England;
the correspondence he entertained with acquaintances in Russia enabled
him in 1769 to apprise the King of an expedition which the Empress was
then planning against the Turks, and which actually took place eight
months later.
[Illustration: LA CHEVALIERE D’EON 1782
_From a Contemporary Oil-painting_]
In an affair that occurred at the same time, and caused a great stir
in London, d’Eon played a more active part, which, thanks to his great
ability, obtained for him the approbation of the two courts and of the
whole of English society. At this time the Liberal party, which had been
increasing from day to day under the leadership of Wilkes, made a last
effort to overthrow the cabinet. Dr. Musgrave, one of the leaders of the
party, had just issued a virulent _Address to the Gentlemen, Clergy, and
Freeholders of the County of Devon_. In this document he renewed the
insinuations against which d’Eon had already protested in the papers
as early as the year 1764, and which represented that the Princess of
Wales, Lord Bute, the Duke of Richmond, Lord Egremont, and Lord Halifax
had received money from France at the time of the conclusion of the
treaties. Dr. Musgrave further stated that he was prepared to support
his charge by fresh evidence, which he had obtained during a recent stay
in Paris, and asserted that the overtures had been made through the
medium of the Chevalier d’Eon, in whose possession the papers relating to
that affair had assuredly remained. Finally, in a direct attack on Lord
Halifax, he reproached him for having refused from personal motives to
prosecute a public inquiry with regard to d’Eon’s papers, or to examine
the Chevalier himself. He invited that nobleman to justify his acts
before Parliament. The Secretary of State did not hesitate to accept
Dr. Musgrave’s challenge, and triumphantly refuted his accusations in
an eloquent speech. Parliament declared them to be groundless, and
severely reprimanded the orator who had formulated them. D’Eon, besides,
contributed in some measure to Lord Halifax’s success, protesting before
the debate against the pamphlet by “depositions and publications.” At
an early stage of the affair he addressed the following letter to Dr.
Musgrave, which was reproduced by the periodicals of the day:
You will permit me to believe that you never knew any more
of me than I have the honour of knowing of you, and if in
your letter of August 12 you had not made a wrong use of my
name, I should not now find myself obliged to enter into a
correspondence with you. You pretend that in the summer of
1764 overtures were made in my name to several members of
Parliament, purporting that I was ready to impeach three
persons (two of whom were peers and members of the Privy
Council), of having sold the Peace to the French, and you
seem to found thereupon the evidence of a charge which you
yourself made against Lord Halifax. Therefore, I hereby declare
that I never made, or caused to be made, any such overture,
either in the winter or the summer of 1764, nor at any other
time.... I now call upon you to make public the name of the
audacious person who has made use of mine to cover up his own
odious offers.... I swear to you, on my word of honour, and
before the public, that I never entered into any negotiation
for the sale of papers, and never either by myself, or any
agent authorised by me, offered to disclose that the Peace
had been sold to France. If Lord Halifax had caused me to be
cited, he might have known by my answers what my thoughts
were, that England rather gave money to France than France to
England, to conclude the last Peace, and that the happiness
I had in concurring in the work of making peace has inspired
me with sentiments of the justest veneration for the English
commissioners who were employed in it.... In order to enable
you to be as prudent as patriotic, I sign this letter and
therein give you my address, that to maintain your own sense
of justice you may furnish me with the means of publicly
confounding those slanderers who have dared to make use of my
name, in a manner still more opposed to real facts than to the
dignity of my character.
This reply was received with equal satisfaction by the two governments,
who, having no interest in throwing too searching a light on the facts
of the case, did not fail to add their approbation to that which public
opinion had already bestowed upon the Chevalier.
However, if he had had no intercourse with Dr. Musgrave, d’Eon had been
able to secure the attachment of another popular member of Parliament,
the celebrated John Wilkes. He had even proposed, for a moment, that the
cabinet of Versailles should assist the great agitator in conspiring
against the house of Hanover. The Comte de Broglie almost suffered
himself to be persuaded; but the King refused to engage in so rash an
undertaking; and Drouet, the count’s secretary, was despatched to London
to put a stop to the enterprise. D’Eon, nevertheless, had not broken with
Wilkes; and, thinking that he might make use of him in another way, he
wrote to the Count de Broglie:
Do you desire a riot at the opening of Parliament after the
next election? If so, I must have so much for Wilkes and so
much for the others.... Wilkes costs us very dearly, but the
English have the Corsican Paoli, whom they lodge and feed on
our account. He is a bomb which they keep loaded to throw in
our midst at the first conflagration. Let us keep bomb for bomb.
These numerous intrigues testify to the ingenuity and activity which
d’Eon did not cease to display at every turn. He was ever on the
watch, ever ready to follow the first trail which chance or even his
imagination supplied. Though wounded in his self-love and disappointed
in his ambition, d’Eon did not resign himself to becoming useless, to
being forgotten. Elated by too rapid a success, he was attacked with
a malady rarer at that time than at the present day—the passion for
advertisement. He must attract attention, even at the risk of incurring
blame, preferring the questionable reputation of an adventurer to the
obscurity of an honest servant of the King. Besides, he thought that by
rendering the King new services, even should they be unsolicited, he
would be strengthening his claim to a pension which was paid to him with
no regularity. The privy purse was indeed often empty, as most of the
private letters reveal. The Chevalier was in consequence sadly in want
of money; he petitioned the Duc de Choiseul, renewed his complaints to
the Duc d’Aiguillon, who, thanks to Madame du Barry’s protection, had
just succeeded the Duc de Praslin as Minister for Foreign Affairs; and he
entreated the Comte de Broglie. “I am dying of starvation,” he wrote to
the count, “between the two pensions you have granted me, like Buridan’s
ass between the two bundles neither of which he could reach with his
mouth.” He was in despair, and although he had always refused the offer
of the English Cabinet, which promised him an equal, but more punctually
remunerated, post if he applied for letters of naturalisation, he would
willingly have quitted the service of France, provided it was for the
benefit of a friendly nation.
Indeed, he was seriously thinking of transferring his allegiance to
Poland, where the nobles had just chosen Stanislas Poniatowsky, the
favourite of Catherine II., as their king. During his residence in
Russia d’Eon had been at great pains to ingratiate himself with that
brilliant prince, and his efforts had been crowned with success. On the
election of Stanislas, he therefore hastened to present his respectful
congratulations to the new king, and informed him that he should be
extremely happy to enter his service. Stanislas having answered him
kindly and having even invited him to join him at Warsaw as soon as
he could, d’Eon at once wrote to him a grateful and effusive letter,
of which he kept a copy, and in which he dwelt complacently upon his
capabilities, with a view, no doubt, to obtaining a more advantageous
offer.
Even if I had not the good fortune of being bound to you by
affection from my youth, I could not fail to be deeply moved by
the reply of February 26, with which your Majesty has deigned
to honour me. Were I to follow the first impulse of my heart,
I should set out immediately in order to enjoy the inestimable
privilege of paying my court to you in Poland; but my duty
compels me first to crave your permission.
Time and again have I been tempted to offer my services
to your Majesty, both in the army and in diplomacy; but my
misfortunes have always made me fear that your Majesty might
look upon my offer as interested, and as coming solely from my
want of employment.
I will take the liberty of stating that I have an income
of fifteen thousand livres and a library of three thousand
volumes, consisting in large part of rare books and of ancient
and modern manuscripts. With these and a little circle of
English noblemen who are friendlily disposed towards me I live
the quiet life of an exiled philosopher in a free country. But
your greatest misfortune and your happiness and your extreme
kindness remind me, Sire, that as I am only forty and enjoy
good health, and as I still possess my courage, my sword, and
some experience of war and politics, I might be able to serve
and avenge the cause of a king who knows me personally, a king
whose goodness is his glory, and who, like Socrates, loves
truth, and like Titus loves men.
If my poor talents can be of use to your Majesty you have but
to command, and I will wing my flight with the remains of
my small fortune, in order to devote them to your Majesty’s
service.
_P.S._—On my return from Lord Ferrers’ seat I went immediately
to pay my court to his Highness the young Prince Poniatowski,
who has been entirely successful in London. He has done me the
honour of accepting my invitation to a philosophical dinner
with M. de Lind, his worthy mentor, and of promising me to
forward this letter to your Majesty. Should you vouchsafe to
cause an answer to be sent, I beg you will not transmit it
through France but through the medium of his Highness the
Prince, your nephew, or of your envoy in London.
D’Eon, still worried by the recollection of his scandalous dispute, did
not omit to send with his letter a copy of the “literary productions
which he had,” he said, “been compelled to publish during his past
unhappy dissension with the deceased ambassador of France, M. de Guerchy.”
D’Eon’s papers do not admit of the belief that he received an answer to
that letter, but if so, it was by word of mouth and by the interposition
of a chamberlain of the King of Poland who happened to be in London.
At all events, d’Eon must certainly have hesitated to follow up that
attractive design, for M. de Broglie, of whom he had asked permission
to enter the service of Poland, replied that it was “the wish of the
King” that he should not leave London without his Majesty’s orders, that
“there was no other place where he could be in greater safety from the
malice of his enemies or where he could serve the King more usefully.”
He advised him to keep up a correspondence with the King of Poland,
overwhelmed him with compliments, and mentioned in conclusion that his
Majesty was convinced “of his attachment and loyalty.” If d’Eon’s object
in confiding his design to the secret minister was merely to raise the
price of his work and to sound the King’s intentions concerning him, he
might have realised that the services he had rendered in voluntary exile
had not sufficed to blot out from the King’s mind the recollection of his
follies. He sincerely considered himself a political victim, and thought
he had much in common with the unfortunate Cato, to whom an eminent
doctor of divinity of Oxford had once compared him.
The Comte de Broglie’s letter must have confirmed his proud conviction;
but at the same time it vexed him greatly, for he was too cautious to be
deceived by the count’s handsome promises and to fail to see that what
was demanded of him was his self-effacement. No cruder punishment could
have been meted out to him.
In the course of his contentions with the ambassador d’Eon had not
scrupled to make use of one invective after another; but he had,
perforce, exposed himself in his turn to most offensive repartees. A
strange insinuation had been made against him which had not remained
unnoticed, and which, cleverly turned to account and well circulated,
had finally excited the curiosity of a people ever on the watch for
eccentricities. One of the pamphleteers in de Guerchy’s pay had raised
doubts as to the nature of the Chevalier’s sex, whose “dragoon’s
uniform,” he said, “concealed a woman or a hermaphrodite.” D’Eon’s frail
appearance, small stature, slender figure, and the delicate features of
his almost beardless face lent colour to this idea. He was not known
to have had any of those amorous adventures of which it was unusual at
that time to make a mystery. D’Eon, who, in the heat of the controversy,
had probably attached no importance to that strange insult, had taken
no notice of it. Besides, he must have felt it less than anybody else,
for he was wont to speak openly “of the singular lack of passion of his
temperament,” taking in good part the banter which neither the Marquis
de L’Hospital nor the Duc de Nivernais had spared him. His acquaintances
in London had often expressed surprise at the discrepancy in such an
exuberant personality. John Taylor, a contemporary of d’Eon, relates, in
his _Records of My Life_, that “several marriages with ladies of good
family, and with large fortunes, had been proposed to him at the country
seats he visited; but that upon all such occasions he immediately left
the house, whence it was inferred he quitted the place on account of his
being really of the female sex.”
The French ambassador (at that time M. du Châtelet) was persuaded that
d’Eon was a woman, and had not been slow to inform the King of the public
report which was spread upon Princess Daschkow’s arrival in London. The
princess, a niece of Woronzow, the Grand Chancellor of Russia, who had
so effectually assisted the Empress Catherine II. to rid herself of her
royal husband and to ascend the throne, was living in exile by the order
of her sovereign. She had taken refuge in England and had not omitted
to relate at court and in society that the Chevalier d’Eon, whom she
knew well at St. Petersburg, and whose eccentricities were the topic
of every conversation, had presented himself at the imperial palace
attired as a woman, and that the Empress Elizabeth, deceived by the
disguise, had admitted the young officer of dragoons into the circle of
her maids of honour. This story, which confirmed the most credulous in
their convictions and excited the curiosity of the sceptics, made the
question of d’Eon’s sex the topic of the day, and led to a succession
of those bets which were then so common in London, and for which the
most trifling incident served as a pretext. Insurance policies were
effected at Brooks’s and White’s, the quotations being posted up in the
coffee-houses; and the memoranda which have been handed down to us show
that the stakes frequently reached a thousand pounds.
The news thus spread soon crossed the Channel, causing no less
astonishment in Paris, where it was eagerly discussed in fashionable
as well as official circles. Bachaumont, the literary and political
chronicler of the time, states in his _Mémoires_, under date of September
25, 1771: “The reports which have been countenanced for several months
to the effect that the Sieur d’Eon, that fiery person so celebrated for
his adventures, is only a woman dressed in man’s clothing, the confidence
with which the rumour has been received in England, and the wagers for
and against amounting to over a hundred thousand pounds, have revived the
attention of Paris about that strange man....” This testimony, which can
easily be verified by the newspapers of the day, does not in the least
exaggerate the interest with which the French public continued to follow
d’Eon in his exploits. It would be difficult to believe such extravagant
statements if the portraits of the hero and the most varied caricatures
which were published at that time had not come down to us, and if traces
of that curiosity were not to be found in the periodicals and magazines
of the various capitals. Journalists, artists, song-writers and minor
poets exercised their talents in his honour to their hearts’ content.
Thus, among so many transient documents, we find in the _Almanach des
Muses_ of 1771 the following verses, flattering in their credulity and
kind in their irony:—
À MADEMOISELLE * * *
QUI S’ETAIT DÉGUISÉE EN HOMME
Bonjour, fripon de Chevalier,
Qui savait si bien l’art de plaire
Que par un bonheur singulier
De nos beautés la plus sévère,
En faveur d’un tel écolier,
Déposant son ton minaudier
Et sa sagesse grimacière,
Pourrait peut-être s’oublier,
Ou plutôt moins se contrefaire.
Mon cher, nous le savons trop bien,
(Le ciel en tout est bon et sage),
Pour un si hardi personnage
Dans le fond vous ne valez rien.
Croyez moi: reprenez un rôle
Que vous jouez plus sûrement.
Que votre sexe se console,
Du mien vous faites le tourment
Et le vôtre, sur ma parole,
Vous doit son plus bel ornement.
Hélas, malheureux que nous sommes!
Vous avez tout pour nous charmer;
C’est bien être au-dessus des hommes
Que de savoir s’en faire aimer!