“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:—

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.