Now that the archives of the Bastille are accessible to historians,
prison life in the eighteenth century is no longer enveloped in mystery,
and this famous fortress, looked upon as the symbol of despotism, appears
rather to have been a sort of hostelry where the best society was
temporarily and involuntarily brought together. In spite of the meagre
comforts that the abode could offer, the inmates were almost free to keep
up their customary style of living. The most favoured, waited upon by
their valets, had their regular reception days, entertained at supper,
and were at liberty to pass through the prison-gates on merely pledging
their word that they would return before sunset. The less important
inmates were tolerably well catered for on payment of ten francs a day,
visited their neighbours in their respective cells, and found sufficient
relaxation in games of _faro_, _bouillotte_ or _biribi_. Those of a more
serious turn of mind, who soon tired of such a regimen, whiled away the
time in contriving plans of escape, which were often crowned with success.
The prison in the castle of Dijon, though equally formidable in
appearance, was not less hospitable, and the recalcitrant Chevalière
found herself even better placed than on her first arrival in Burgundy,
when, crowned with the aureole of misfortune, she had received the
warmest reception. The Abbé Pioret, senior priest at St. John’s, the
prisoners’ parish church for the time being, was one of the first to
inquire after his old comrade, and to offer her such consolations as were
in keeping with her condition and her present circumstances. He reminded
her of the days of her childhood and of their intercourse at Versailles,
and ended as follows:—
As it is the duty of a pastor to seek his sheep, particularly
when they are, like yourself, inclined to wander from the fold,
I hope you will allow me to call upon you; kindly let me know
the hour which will be most convenient to you.
On the following day visitors streamed into the castle in such numbers
that the governor was obliged to give the sentinel “instructions not
to admit anybody to the Chevalière’s cell.” So unusual and unexpected
an order astonished M. Calon, former councillor of parliament, and M.
Buchotte de Vermond, who at once complained to the Chevalière of having
been brutally dismissed. In lieu of visitors d’Eon received letters of
condolence or of congratulation from all quarters, and his old comrades
in the dragoons, who had followed his adventures step by step, sent a
fresh token of their affection by Major d’Arras, “begging to be reassured
as to the prisoner’s fate.” As a matter of fact, the rigour of his
confinement was diminishing every day, and before a week was over d’Eon
was not only permitted to receive in his cell the leading citizens of
Dijon and the numerous visitors who had solicited an audience out of
curiosity, but even to entertain a few friends at dinner. While he was
cheerfully resigning himself to his misfortune, and relishing “the trout,
crayfish, chickens, woodcocks, and snipe,” washed down with the venerable
_Clos-Vougeot_ supplied by the Sieur Gaudelet, innkeeper and purveyor to
the castle, his brother-in-law was endeavouring to shorten his detention.
O’Gorman had been the more surprised and disquieted by the Chevalière’s
disappearance, as on coming to Versailles on the very day of her arrest,
to accompany her to Tonnerre, he had found the door of the house sealed
up and the maid still “upset by the shock caused by the arrest.” La
Grenade, d’Eon’s valet, having been unable to tell him whither his master
had been taken, O’Gorman proceeded at once to the audience-chamber of M.
Amelot, where the chief clerk informed him that d’Eon was a prisoner at
Dijon. He was assured, however, “that neither the King nor his ministers
had any desire to harm the Chevalière, and that her resistance to and
disregard of the King’s orders had alone given rise to such violent
measures.” She would even be at liberty “to retire to her paternal home,”
as soon as she should show a “submissive disposition to live quietly and
unostentatiously in her own province.”
Before long d’Eon himself seemed to wish for what was required of him.
He did nothing further to foster the disturbance caused by his every
movement, and submitted quietly to his punishment. Such a satisfactory
frame of mind revived the good-will of his powerful friends. The Marquis
de Vergennes advised him to write a humble letter to his brother,
the minister, and added thereto “his most urgent recommendation.”
But his most able defender was the Bishop of Mâcon, who cleverly
pleaded his protégé’s cause by representing to the ministers that “too
great a sensation” was being caused at Dijon by the presence of the
Chevalière. Lastly, the search made at her house, far from confirming the
insinuations of her enemies, who were disposed to accuse her of being a
spy in the service of England, had on the contrary proved nothing but
“facts redounding to her credit.” Accordingly the ministers granted a
pardon after a month’s imprisonment, enjoining her to repair immediately
to Tonnerre and not to leave the town without the King’s permission.
D’Eon hastened to obey; but before leaving Dijon he did not omit to
give Marlet, the sculptor, an order for several little medallions to
commemorate his residence in the capital of Burgundy.
Quieted by his long series of adventures, and dreading no doubt the
bitterness of his enemies, who wished for nothing better than to see him
“confined in a convent for the rest of his days,” d’Eon made up his mind
to lead, in Burgundy, the quiet life of a maiden lady of quality—a life
“he had so often envied,” he said, with more resignation than sincerity.
The small pension from the King enabled him to put his house at Tonnerre
in repair; he added a wing to it, embellished his park, through which the
river Armençon ran, with “terraces and flower-beds,” and even managed to
have a chapel pulled down which intercepted the view from his windows,
“without falling out with Holy Mother Church.” He exchanged “a box-tree
for a marjoram” with the prior of Saint Martin, planted new vines, and
superintended the gathering of the grapes, the wine from which reached
the capital in due course and graced the board of M. Amelot and of the
Marquis de Vergennes. He kept his best vintages for his old protectors,
who were both touched by the attention and appreciative of the gift.
I have received, Mademoiselle, the sixty-five bottles of wine
from Tonnerre, which you mentioned in your letter. I would
rather you had not deprived yourself of them, for I did not
need this token of your sentiments to be convinced of your
attachment to M. de Broglie. The proofs which you have never
ceased to give him, persuade me that they will never change. I
accept the assurance with the deepest gratitude.
This note seems to have been the last that d’Eon received from this
influential family, whose dependant he had been in his youth, and whose
zealous champion he had afterwards become. The Broglies were by this time
so completely neglected that their state was worse than disgrace, and
the death of the count, whose health had been undermined by injustice
and disappointments, dealt a blow to his house from which it was slow to
recover. It was this painful moment that d’Eon had chosen for proving
that he had not forgotten the minister’s patronage during a career so
sadly and prematurely brought to a close. His new life left him time for
reflecting on his past errors, and although he endeavoured to appear
content with his lot, he could not conceal his regrets or convince his
correspondents. On the same day, January 1, 1780, General de Monet, who
knew all his adventures, wrote to him:
I envy the tranquillity you must enjoy with your Penates. I
trust that you look upon it with your habitual philosophy, of
which your life has given you so many opportunities of making
good use. Your leisure hours are probably well employed for
the benefit of posterity, and the thoughts which fortunate
or unfortunate circumstances (it is difficult to say which)
give you time to leave in writing, will be a great boon for
instruction, and also a means of adding new lustre to the
interesting history of your life. But be that as it may, to
tell you the truth, I would rather you were in Paris than
at Tonnerre, although you would only see there many people
agitated by the reforms which our ministers have wisely deemed
necessary and just for procuring funds to continue the war
without the imposition of new taxes. It is preferable at such
critical moments to be far from the tumult.
D’Eon was indeed thinking of following the advice of his correspondent,
and leaving to posterity a detailed account of his exploits. The short
sketch which he had written of his life on his return to France seemed
to him insufficient, for it contained no reference to the chief event
in his career, his contentions with de Guerchy, and also his secret
mission in England; but the moment would have been ill-chosen, and
might have furnished his enemies with fresh grounds for complaint. He
therefore occupied himself with less dangerous works, planning a book
on agriculture, and continually corresponding on this subject with M.
de Buffon, who sent his works to him, discussed with him the merits
of new treatises, and even consented to provide him with the documents
that he lacked. The Marquis de Poncins submitted to him his new book on
“agriculture and war,” saying that his glory would be complete “if to
the approbation of the greatest of kings, were added that of the most
illustrious woman who had ever figured in the annals of the world.” De
Lalande and Cassini kept him informed of their discoveries. But such
interesting correspondence being insufficient, in d’Eon’s opinion, “to
dispel the stupefying fumes which one inhales in the country,” he worked
assiduously at drawing up, with the help of M. de Palmus, the d’Eon
family tree. He set about this with the smallest display of modesty, or
rather with the fertile imagination of which he had already given so many
proofs. After having exhausted the lineage of his immediate ancestors,
who during the two preceding centuries had done little to prove their
nobility in Burgundy, he unearthed far more remote forebears in Brittany,
and even claimed alliance with the greatest houses of that province.
Among those families a few had survived who did not seem very flattered
at the relationship claimed by the illustrious Chevalière, and, indeed,
declined his offer somewhat insistently. D’Eon consequently found himself
engaged in a lengthy law-suit against M. de Kergado, on which occasion he
distributed, as was his wont, a great many notes and pamphlets; but the
case went against him. No sooner was this affair ended than d’Eon again
began to feel, with increasing intensity, the burden of his idleness, of
which he could not rid himself, and he was once more seized with the
nostalgia of adventure. He tried to escape from the province to which
he was confined by order of the King, as in a prison, and renewed his
entreaties for permission to place at the disposal of America a sword
which, though rusty, could still render useful service. As before, he met
with the same unqualified refusal, and although his petition obtained
for him the liberty of returning to Paris and Versailles, when he should
desire to do so, he was much depressed by his failure. But he was not
the man to own himself beaten, and though he was prevented fighting in
person he was determined, nevertheless, to find means of distinguishing
himself in the coming campaign. He could not go to the war, but he would
send a representative, and his scheme for fighting by proxy consisted in
equipping a frigate which was to bear the name of the _Chevalière d’Eon_.
The _Journal de Paris_ published, on September 8, 1780 and January 8,
1781, letters exchanged between Messrs. Le Sesne, shipowners in Paris,
and the Chevalière d’Eon. In their first letter these gentlemen begged
to be allowed to give the name of the illustrious Chevalière to one of
the two vessels which they were fitting out at Granville as privateers,
at England’s expense. This frigate was built to carry forty-four cannon,
eighteen and twenty-four pounders, broadside, and fourteen eight-pounders
on her quarter-deck and forecastle, eighteen howitzers and twelve swivel
guns, with a crew of four hundred and fifty picked men under the command
of an experienced and distinguished captain, who would take charge of the
whole expedition.
“We feel sure, Mademoiselle,” continued Messrs. Le Sesne and Co., “that
once so commendable a name has been submitted to the promoters of this
enterprise everyone will endeavour to share the glory attached to it, and
to imbue himself with the spirit that animates you for the advantage and
prosperity of the State.”
The tone of d’Eon’s reply to this flattering request was proud, dignified
and patronising.
I received this morning the letter which you did me the honour
of writing to me yesterday, for the purpose of obtaining
my permission to give my name to the frigate which you are
building at Granville.
I am too sensible of the honour that you pay me, and too
deeply impressed by the patriotic sentiments that stimulate
your spirit, zeal, and courage for the service of the King,
against the enemies of France, not to do on this occasion all
you wish, so as to contribute promptly and efficaciously to the
beneficial and glorious end which you have in view.
I am aware, too, Gentlemen, of the care you will devote to the
selection of a good captain, of experienced officers, and of
the brave volunteers they will take with them.
With such wise precautions, economy in your finance, and great
intrepidity in action, your enterprise should be crowned with
success.
All I regret is that I am unable to accompany the expedition
either as combatant or as spectator; but if my personal esteem
can increase your zeal, the sparks emitted from my eyes and the
fire from my heart should mingle with your cannon at the first
call of glory.
Together with this reply, Messrs. Le Sesne published another letter, in
which they expressed their great gratitude to the “heroic Chevalière”
for the invaluable patronage which she deigned to confer upon them,
and declared that they could not find a better way of showing their
appreciation than by submitting to Mademoiselle d’Eon the choice of the
captain, officers and volunteers of the frigate which was to bear her
name.
This letter was followed by another reply from d’Eon, stamped with the
humility that befits a hero.
I have to answer the last letter with which you honoured me on
December 4.
Had I foreseen the consequences that resulted from the reply
which I thought it my duty to give to your flattering request
that I should name one of your frigates, I would carefully have
refrained from accepting such an honour.
The praise which that compliance causes you to bestow upon me,
gives an idea of my talents and my merit which is quite at
variance with the opinion I ought to have of them.
As to the choice of the captain, the officers, and the
volunteers who are anxious to distinguish themselves on the
vessel which you are fitting out, I believe, Gentlemen, that
once a career so glorious and so useful to the government is
open to our soldiers and sailors, they will come in crowds to
risk their fortunes and their lives for the right of pursuing
it. I therefore consider this choice much more difficult on
account of the great number of competitors than on account of
their courage and merit, such qualities being natural to all
French soldiers, whom I am better able to applaud and imitate
than I am to criticise.
There was, indeed, no lack of men in quest of adventures who applied for
posts on the _Chevalière d’Eon_. D’Eon’s papers include numerous letters
of application, and there was a rumour even that the Chevalière herself
would embark on the vessel which was to bear her name.
Unfortunately, the shareholders’ money did not flow into the offices
of Messrs. Le Sesne and Co., Rue de Bailleul, at the same rate as the
offers of service. An extract from the _Journal de Paris_, containing the
letters exchanged between the shipowners and the Chevalière d’Eon, had
been issued in form of a prospectus and addressed to all persons thought
likely to take an interest in the matter. Even the vignette representing
the _Chevalière d’Eon_ surrounded by the enemy’s vessels, and firing
two broadsides at once, did not induce people to subscribe, and the
undertaking had to be abandoned. Such a turn of affairs did not answer
the purpose of those to whom d’Eon had already distributed appointments
on the frigate. A certain “mestre de camp de dragons,” who signs only
with his initial, and had been chosen to command the ship, wrote to
him on July 14, 1781, from Granville, where he had gone to watch the
preparations for the expedition:
The equipment of the _Chevalière d’Eon_, my faithful old
friend, is not taking the turn that I would have wished
for your sake, as well as for M. Le Sesne’s and mine,
notwithstanding all the efforts I have made and am still
making. I must not conceal from you the fact that the vessel
destined to bear your name exists as yet only in M. Le
Sesne’s imagination, and that there is not in the dockyard
at Granville a single foot of timber for the framing of the
ship. M. Le Sesne, it is true, had bought a certain quantity
of wood for that purpose, which was seized, as it had not been
paid for, and in order to avoid disagreeable consequences a
certain M. Agaste has lately been sent here to prevent legal
proceedings; but all that does not, and will never, further the
building of the vessel _La Chevalière d’Eon_.
The scheme formed by Messrs. Le Sesne and Co. failed, therefore, for want
of money, and d’Eon found himself obliged to disband the officers and
crew whom he had enlisted to fight under his colours. The idea, however,
was not lost; for a few months later, other shipbuilders, Messrs. Charet
and Ozenne, of Nantes, gave the name of _Chevalière d’Eon_—a name which
they considered, no doubt, a symbol of successful audacity—to one of
the vessels they were fitting out to convey the commodities which, in
spite of the naval war, were being exchanged with the French colonies in
America and India.
D’Eon, discouraged doubtless by the failure of the first enterprise, does
not appear to have concerned himself about this fresh undertaking; but
he remained in Paris whither this business had called him. He did not
return to court, and only resided in the capital during the winter of
1780-81. At that time he was living in the house of Madame de Brie, in
the Rue de Grenelle-Saint-Germain, leading a quiet life with his friend
Drouet, formerly secretary to the Comte de Broglie. His old acquaintances
came to call upon him. Madame Tercier invited him to dinner, promising
“to talk of secret affairs until they should be obliged to stop for
want of breath.” The Marquis de Courtenvaux, a relative of Louvois, who
called him “sa chère payse,” would send his coach to fetch the Chevalière
“at the swing-bridge of the Tuileries.” They would go together to visit
the Abbey of Port Royal des Champs and the Château of Bagatelle, the
property of the Comte d’Artois; or else, crossing the much-frequented
Bois de Boulogne, they would go to hear the beautiful singing of the
Ladies of the Abbey of Longchamp, who, during Lent, attracted the most
fashionable and, it would seem, the least devout society. D’Eon led the
life of a tourist, being eager to see the beauties and the curiosities
of a town which he had left more than twenty years before, and which he
had not been able to explore on his return from England, occupied as he
then was with his disguise. The diary which he kept at that time leads
us to suppose that he was not indifferent to the attractions, new to
him, of the boulevards. Although he did not frequent the _Café Turc_,
the _Babillards_ and the _Café Sergent_, where an elderly spinster of
quality would have felt out of place, he greatly enjoyed the _Théâtre des
Danseuses du Roi_, where Nicollet had lately made changes, and instead
of pantomimes, real plays were being performed. He even visited Curtius’
famous shop, where the “_mannequins illuminés_” could be seen, the
figures in wax of the royal family and of the leading people of the day.
On being informed of his arrival, the impresario wished to avail himself
of the opportunity for taking his portrait. But we must conclude that
d’Eon did not care to appear in effigy amidst the illustrious company
assembled in the _Salons du Boulevard du Temple_, for Curtius wrote,
some time after, begging him to grant him this favour. D’Eon was unable
to fall in with these renewed entreaties, for he had already left Paris.
Curtius’ letter followed him to Tonnerre, whither he had retired at the
beginning of spring, to look after his small property.
From that date to the year 1785 nothing worthy of note occurred to
disturb, or even to relieve, the monotony of his life. Famous travellers
did not fail to call upon him on their way through Tonnerre; they
devoted the time of changing horses to conversation with the Burgundian
heroine, admiring this odd phenomenon, by no means the least interesting
curiosity on their route. Prince Henry of Prussia, whose acquaintance
d’Eon had made in Germany, wished to meet the former captain of dragoons
again. He did not think it beneath his dignity to have supper with the
Chevalière and her aged mother, who was very nervous in the presence of
so illustrious a guest. The Comte d’Albon, an intrepid traveller who
had the gift of shrewd observation as well as a rare talent for telling
stories, scribbled on a sheet of paper, which he hastily sealed with a
crown-piece, the following laconic note of regret:—
The Comte d’Albon greets, embraces, and loves Mademoiselle
d’Eon with all his heart. He is passing through Tonnerre in a
post-chaise and is in despair at being in so great a hurry as
to be unable to see her and tell her once more how sincere are
the sentiments that he has avowed to her for life.
D’Eon was received with cordiality in neighbouring country houses: at
Persey, by the Comte d’Ailly; at Croûtes, by the Vicomte de Lespinasse;
and especially at Anci-le-Franc, where all the members of the Louvois
family met in summer—the Marquis and the Marquise de Louvois, the
Marquis de Courtenvaux and Madame de Souvré. Entertainments, balls and
theatricals, in which every guest was called upon to take part, followed
one another in rapid succession. D’Eon supplied costumes, “some laced
coats of brown camlet,” and he himself, whose life was one long comedy,
was one of the actors, though the part was a small one for so great a
virtuoso.
Ever in great request at the châteaux of the neighbourhood, he was in
the eyes of the inhabitants of Tonnerre, and of all Burgundians, the
distinguished countryman, the provincial celebrity, whose undisputed
privilege it was to preside at all public gatherings. Thus Father Rosman
invited him to witness the distribution of prizes at the Royal Military
College of Auxerre. “Your presence,” he wrote, “can but stimulate the
zeal and the emulation of our pupils preparing for the army, in which
you have distinguished yourself. I add my entreaties to those of your
admirers (that is to say to those of the whole town).”
The officers of the Languedoc dragoons, whose regiment had crossed the
Weser by the side of the squadron commanded by d’Eon, came in a body from
Joigny to visit him at Tonnerre, and a few months afterwards invited
him to take part in an entertainment which they were giving in honour
of their colonel’s wife. D’Eon sent the following reply to the Comte
d’Osseville, major and secretary of the regiment:—
It is with the feelings of the heart of a young woman grafted
on that of an old captain of dragoons, that I received
yesterday the very kind invitation with which you have
honoured me, in your name as well as in that of all your
brother officers. It would have been a great pleasure for me
to place myself under the colours of Languedoc on the day of
the entertainment which you have organised for the Comtesse
d’Arnouville, who, while allowing only her husband to enchain
her heart, has nevertheless succeeded in captivating all the
dragoons as well as all those who have the good fortune to know
her. It is indeed much to my regret and vexation that I am
obliged to remain at home, on account of a kind of sunstroke
that seized me while watching the making of a terrace on the
bank of the river Armençon during the great heat we had a
week ago. I am in the doctor’s hands, and extremely sorry to
have met with this disappointment. I trust that after your
entertainment and the review by the inspector you will find
time to visit some of the country-houses in the neighbourhood
of Tonnerre, and that you, or some of the officers, will avail
yourselves of the opportunity for spending a few days with
Mademoiselle d’Eon, who will ever consider it an honour to
receive and entertain her old brother officers to the best of
her ability.
I earnestly beg you will express to the Comte and Comtesse
d’Arnouville, and to all the officers of the Languedoc
regiment, my deep regret on this occasion.
Not only was the Chevalière the patroness of the dragoons, but she also
held a rank among the Freemasons, and, in spite of her sex, which should
have excluded her, was summoned to the solemn assemblies of the Lodge of
the Nine Sisters.
I consider myself happy (wrote the F— to her) to act as
mouthpiece for the sisters of the R—, L—, who beg that you will
favour them by your presence at the funeral service in memory
of their deceased brothers. I enclose the invitation card for
this ceremony, in which you have a prominent place as a mason,
as an author, and as one who is now the glory of her sex, and
was once the pride of ours.
Mademoiselle d’Eon alone has the right of crossing the barrier
which excludes the more beautiful half of the world from our
labours. The exception begins and ends with you; do not neglect
to avail yourself of the privilege, and if you do us the favour
of complying with my wishes, add a second favour by arriving
early, so as to see the whole ceremony, which would not be
complete without you.
So firmly established was d’Eon’s popularity in Burgundy, that the poets
who sang the charms of this fertile province would have considered they
had forgotten its chief attraction had they omitted to celebrate the
achievements of their strange countryman. The Prior of Chablis composed
a little poem in Latin on Tonnerre, drawing a flattering portrait of the
Chevalière, while acknowledging, however, that her martial gait was not
in keeping with her virginal attire.
So much celebrity led his fellow-citizens and his old comrades to suppose
that his influence was equally great, and never doubting that he was
in high favour at court, and with men in office, they hoped to obtain
through him every kind of favour. Naturally a great many dragoons sought
his aid. They aspired to an order or a pension, a pass or a furlough.
D’Eon was flattered by such requests and received them with untiring good
grace, laying his numerous acquaintances under contribution and even
applying to persons whom he did not know, but who, in his opinion, could
not fail to know him. Answers such as that of the Marquis de d’Espinay
Saint-Luc, who assured him that “the regard due to his celebrity was
a sure guarantee of the effect of his protection,” confirmed d’Eon
in his favourable appreciation of himself. So in one year, 1783, he
endeavoured to obtain for his protégés appointments in the navy, in the
administration of taxes, and even in the King’s household.
The religious orders ever found in him a kindly advocate. The Abbé de
Molly-Billorgues, on hearing that Madame Elizabeth, the King’s sister,
was to have a household of her own, begged him to obtain from M. Amelot
the title of chaplain to the Princess. The Abbé de Lacy requested to
be attached to a certain regiment. On another occasion d’Eon applied
directly to the Bishop-Duke of Langres, Mgr. de la Luzerne, in favour
of a prior who was afraid of being dispossessed of a living obtained by
a “surreptitious decree.” A little later he wrote to the Archbishop of
Paris, recommending to him a curate of Epineul, who was uncongenially
situated in his present position.
At this time, too, when all his follies appear to have been blotted
out from the memory of his contemporaries by the celebrity he had
attained, d’Eon thought of his relatives who were then in a poor plight.
His brother-in-law was penniless, having contracted numerous debts at
Tonnerre; and d’Eon, who was obliged to devote several payments of his
pension to meeting them, solicited for O’Gorman first an inspectorship of
post-houses, then a consulate in America. He took particular interest in
his eldest nephew, and intended adopting him; meanwhile he allowed him
to bear the name of d’Eon. On leaving the Military College the Chevalier
O’Gorman d’Eon, on the advice of his uncle, volunteered for the American
War. D’Eon gave him 700 livres for his equipment, and, his services
being accepted by the Comte de la Bretonnière, he embarked on board the
_Ceres_. “M. de Treville promised to do all he could to contribute to the
promotion of the young officer”; and M. d’Estaing “took as much interest
in him as in the modern Joan of Arc,” whose “loyal knight” the intrepid
sailor would have desired to be. No sooner had the young man arrived in
America than he gave proofs of his bravery, and Count Macnamara hastened
to let the Chevalière know how happy he was “to have such a comrade
with him.” The future seemed to smile on this young officer whom his
chief treated so familiarly, and d’Eon, who had afforded him an opening,
followed him, in imagination, into those distant countries which he
longed to visit himself. The heroine of Tonnerre, shut up in her humble
abode, saw in her nephew the realisation of her hopes. She paid but
little heed apparently to the storm that was brewing in France, and was
so soon to burst out. She entertained a regular correspondence with the
generals and admirals who were fighting in the Colonies; and they felt
flattered when she congratulated them upon their victories.
Every letter that you are kind enough to send to me,
Mademoiselle, fills me with new joy (writes the Marquis
de Bouillé). I take the keenest possible interest in your
relations and protégés, who, as such, could not have better
claims on my notice.
M. Rougeot is at present in command of the artillery in the
regiment of Martinique; it was not possible to find a better
post for him. Young O’Gorman has been very ill; I have obtained
a reward for him, which is all I can do for the present. Later
on perhaps some favourable opportunity may offer.
I have been very successful hitherto; Fortune has treated me
with special favour; but if you were not the Chevalière d’Eon
I would say that Fortune is a woman and consequently addicted
to caprice. Poor Grasse has had a terrible proof of this; he
is old, it is true, and I am still young, and she loves youth;
I will therefore continue to court her, and should she prove
obdurate I must use violence. You see I think like an old
soldier.
Young O’Gorman being no longer able to support the brave marquis in his
hand-to-hand fight with fortune, d’Eon wrote at once, inquiring anxiously
about his return, and, thanks to M. de Sartine, obtained for him a
commission as lieutenant.
I am delighted to hear, Mademoiselle, that your nephew is
included in the list of promotions in the navy; I congratulate
you and am pleased to have been able to use my influence on
his behalf. I have no doubt but that he will follow the good
example set by his family. His elder brother’s success does not
surprise me. They will both win distinction if they follow your
advice.
While d’Eon was making these successful efforts to launch his nephews
in an honourable career, he contemplated quitting not only Tonnerre but
France. The peace which had just been concluded with England enabled him
to return to that country, where he had learned to love liberty. Besides,
business of an urgent nature called him there: his extensive library
and his valuable collection of weapons had remained in the hands of
creditors whom he had been unable to indemnify, and who kept threatening
to sell the property left as security. He appealed once more to the Comte
de Vergennes for assistance, and, in spite of a peremptory refusal,
persisted in his determination.
In the middle of the summer of 1785 he returned to Paris, where the
Duchesse de Montmorency offered him hospitality. He saw his old and
faithful friends again—the Campans, the Fraguiers, the Tanlays, and made
the acquaintance of a family destined for a brilliant future, being
introduced to the Comtesse de Beauharnais, who soon became infatuated
with him. There seems, at this time, to have been a revival of that same
curiosity which he had formerly excited; but the urgent affairs which
called him to London obliged him to disregard it, and on November 25,
1785, he left his native country, to which he never returned.