D'Eon de Beaumont, his life and times

The storm of which d’Eon appeared to think so lightly was far from abating, however, for de Guerchy, enraged by his failure, had not yet given up the fight. He began by attacking his adversary’s partisans, and had just obtained from the minister an order recalling M. d’Eon de Mouloize to France, and arbitrarily divesting him of his rank of lieutenant of cavalry. Then, having exhausted all the resources of official pressure, he tried less circuitous means—launching out in a paper war which originated in the incident that occurred at Lord Halifax’s. The English newspapers had given a discreet explanation of the dispute on the following day. They were unfavourable to the ambassador, who realised that the laughter was not with him. Desirous of publishing his own version of the incident, he employed the services of a writer called Goudard, singularly unskilful in the profession by which he earned his livelihood. In exchange for a few guineas, Goudard delivered to de Guerchy a little pamphlet of a harmless description, but in which the facts were related in a light so favourable to the ambassador that d’Eon naturally felt prompted to reply. De Guerchy knew by experience how quick d’Eon was at repartee, and hoped that his adversary, unable to resist such a temptation, would expose himself in consequence to the penalties of English law, so severe in matters of libel.

However, whether he did not deem himself insulted, or whether he suspected a trap, d’Eon kept quiet, and the ambassador was once more disappointed in his expectations. At this juncture de Vergy came to offer his services to de Guerchy for a modest consideration. He, too, had reasons for taking offence at the pamphlet, and this pretext was sufficient to envenom matters. Accordingly he published a little brochure openly attacking the Chevalier. This time d’Eon thought it necessary to reply, but in doing so he made use of language mild enough to put an end to the discussion. This did not suit the ambassador, who never allowed his sense of dignity to prevent him insisting on the last word. He pursued the petty warfare, making one blunder after another, and issued his “Contre-Note,” a genuine piece of bathos, a severe and absurd condemnation of d’Eon. This publication produced the singular effect of animating persons unconcerned in the quarrel. Anonymous lampoons written in English were distributed among the public, also manuscript pamphlets, some taking d’Eon’s part and some the ambassador’s. Vergy, Lescalier, late clerk at the embassy, Henry Fielding, Justice of the Peace in London, took up the quarrel. A woman even, called Bac de Saint-Amand, signed a few pages which were deemed so comic that a second edition was rapidly exhausted.

For three months, during which over twenty different publications were produced, d’Eon contained himself; but his patience, as also his funds, was daily diminishing. Deserted by the King and without resources he wrote to the Duc de Choiseul asking him for permission to enter the service of England with two of his cousins, since, as he said, “he could not obtain justice in M. de Guerchy’s proceedings.” At the same time he made a last appeal to the Duc de Nivernais for support, in humbler and more friendly terms, but in which the threatening allusions were also clear. These letters remained unnoticed, as well as those he sent to the Duc de Broglie and to Tercier. Impelled by necessity as much as by a desire for revenge, d’Eon then determined upon making use of his last weapons against de Guerchy. On March 22, 1764, he published a book, full of impertinence and gross allusions to the ambassador and the ministers. It consisted of a vehement account of all his contentions with de Guerchy, written in a sarcastic tone, at times full of wit, and throughout aggressive. D’Eon reproduced, besides, the letters he had ventured to address to his ambassador and those he had received from him; intimate letters in which de Guerchy displayed, in a heavy, involved style, all his shabby parsimony and perplexity at the outset of his diplomatic career. Lastly, in a third part, d’Eon gave extracts from the correspondence exchanged between the Duc de Praslin and the Duc de Nivernais, which the latter had communicated to him, and in which the two friends expressed themselves freely and confidentially upon the subject of de Guerchy’s meagre qualifications.

These disclosures, so painful and humiliating for the ambassador, made a great stir in London. Fifteen hundred copies of the work were sold in the course of a few days. But the scandal did not in the least produce the desired effect. D’Eon only lost much of the sympathy which his wit and good-humour had formerly won for him, and which all his wanton insults had not yet exhausted. Walpole, writing at this time to the Earl of Hertford, British Ambassador in Paris, reflects faithfully the opinion of Englishmen, who blamed d’Eon severely, though not without regret:

The Privy Council approved Lord Mansfield’s intentions. If the work was not, strictly speaking, libellous, it contained defamatory insinuations which admitted of the application of the act. Moreover, the whole diplomatic corps supported de Guerchy in his demand for an inquiry, and the Attorney-General brought an action for libel against d’Eon in the King’s name, which was tried a few months later.

The sensation in London was enormous, and even greater in Paris, where the author of the scandal was far more severely condemned, as a contemporary who kept a diary of political and literary events relates, under date of April 14:

And he adds, under date of April 26:

The volume so severely and justly condemned by public opinion was destined not only to rouse indignation at Versailles, but also to cause the utmost anxiety. Indeed, there was everything to fear from a man whose mind was so disordered. D’Eon had confined himself so far to talking about his own affairs; but it was by no means certain that he would prove equally circumspect for the future, or that he would refrain from divulging the secret and delicate negotiations in which he had been implicated, at the time of the conclusion of the last treaties.

The Duc de Praslin decided that the book should be torn up; but while giving this order he bethought himself of treating with the author. The King encouraged him to do so, for he shared his minister’s apprehensions, having just examined two letters addressed by d’Eon to Tercier, who did not wish to answer them. Moreover, they expressed only too plainly their author’s intentions:

Louis XV., who did not go so far as to believe that d’Eon had in his portfolio the means of bringing about war with England, took the danger with which he was threatened coolly enough; but he was aware that his secret was in peril. M. de Praslin had not concealed his earnest desire “to see d’Eon safe in France, under lock and key.” The minister had even sent police officers to England, with orders to secure d’Eon, but only alive. Louis XV., however, “could not believe his agent was a traitor.” He judged him more justly and dispassionately than his secret ministers. Notwithstanding his faults, his pride and his imprudence, d’Eon was incapable of committing a disloyal action. If he had been induced to write such compromising letters, he had done so only under compulsion, and when driven to extremities by the excessive severity, or by the equally excessive weakness, of the means employed against him, and also by the obstinate silence preserved towards him by the Comte de Broglie and Tercier. On learning of the death of Madame de Pompadour, which occurred at this time, he believed that the secret ministers were at last publicly to enjoy their credit with the King. But his hopes were shattered: Louis XV. continued his double game, and the Comte de Broglie did not feel powerful enough to take advantage of the situation by obtruding himself upon the King, nor did he venture even to plead d’Eon’s cause.

Deserted by everybody, the Chevalier was extremely flattered by the offers of the Liberal party, which compared him to Wilkes, the idol of the people and the victim of a trial for libel. His popularity was increased rapidly in London, where his name was cheered after that of the patriot, but he was flattered chiefly because it was hoped that he might divulge some scandalous details with regard to the conclusion of the last peace. The Liberals expected him to furnish them with formidable weapons against Lord Bute, the late ministers and their successors, who were said to have been bribed by France. Though d’Eon did not intend to respond to their advances, he did not reject them, and he boasted of them to the secret ministers, hoping to obtain by intimidation the aid which had been denied to his entreaties. He was not altogether unsuccessful, since he was causing the King grave anxiety, if not on the score of the peace of Europe, at least on that of his secret correspondence. At the Comte de Broglie’s suggestion, Louis XV. despatched M. de Nort to England, with the mission of pacifying de Guerchy, but also with formal instructions to conciliate d’Eon by advice and promises, and to discover at least the nature of his demands. D’Eon, who had frequently met de Nort at the Comte de Broglie’s, welcomed him with enthusiasm, and proved unexpectedly moderate, believing that his rehabilitation was now imminent.

Hardly had he read the Comte de Broglie’s letter, brought by M. de Nort, when, elated with the alluring promises and the flattery which it contained, he wrote to the King on the spur of the moment:

In writing this note, d’Eon allowed himself to be guided by his first impulse, and he realised afterwards that he had been too hasty. He was pleased to regard the Comte de Broglie’s letter as an earnest of more extensive negotiations. In this he was entirely mistaken, for if M. de Nort was disposed to let things take their course, he was obliged to confine himself to the terms of the letter, which contained a promise of a sum of money not stated, and the assurance of royal protection, but no reference to his reinstatement, nor to any redress of the injuries he had suffered at the hands of de Guerchy.

The infliction of this fresh and more bitter disappointment was a blunder. It was irritating him unnecessarily, and at the same time increasing his arrogance and infatuation by idle parleys. The Chevalier became aware the day after de Nort’s arrival that he had been greatly deceiving himself, and, in a fit of temper, he sent the Comte de Broglie’s letter back to the messenger, adding that, “since he was not being dealt with fairly,” he would rather remain, “like the goat in the fable, at the bottom of the well into which the King’s and the Comte de Broglie’s orders, and the personal hatred of de Guerchy’s friends, had cast him.” M. de Nort did not lose courage, and exerted himself to make him listen to reason; but d’Eon proved intractable and Tercier’s urgent letters did not meet with greater success. Feeling he had gone too far, however, in not providing himself with any loophole for the future, d’Eon declared that he could not reasonably be expected to give up the only weapons with which he could defend himself against M. de Guerchy in his judicial proceedings. The ambassador had but to desist from his action for the negotiations to be immediately simplified. Thus rebuffed, M. de Nort deemed that there was nothing more for him to do in London. He had not succeeded better, moreover, in the case of M. de Guerchy.

The time was indeed ill-chosen for urging the ambassador to be moderate. Never was he so near the attainment of his object, so sure before long of having the Chevalier at his mercy. The humiliation he had just experienced had, moreover, greatly increased his irritation. He was awaiting the result of the trial for libel, counting on English law for the conviction of his enemy, and already keeping in readiness for his capture a few carefully chosen myrmidons, despatched to him, at his request, by the Duc de Praslin. “A vessel, manned by twenty-one armed men, was moored at Gravesend,” and they had “detached a little six-oared boat which lay between Westminster and London Bridge,” and into which he was to be put as soon as they had seized upon his person. The admirers whom d’Eon had found in the slums of London, among the mariners and the rabble of the port, came immediately to report this to him, by which means the Chevalier eluded once more the pursuit of the prematurely triumphant ambassador. D’Eon wrote letters to the Lord Chief Justice, the Earl of Mansfield, to Lord Bute and to Mr. Pitt, which he had printed, and which the newspapers published. In these letters he represented what plots were being laid against him, appealed to public opinion, and requested the ministers to take measures for his safety.

Mr. Pitt alone replied by a few lines:

The agitations fostered by d’Eon were sufficient to protect him against de Guerchy’s attempts, in a country where the liberty of the individual was so effectively safeguarded. Summer was approaching, and he set out for Staunton Harold, the seat of his friend, Earl Ferrers, while the ambassador returned to France on leave of absence.

Autumn brought de Guerchy back to London, where the action for libel was on the point of being tried. The cabinet had all but assured the ambassador that he should obtain a favourable verdict, authorising him to seize d’Eon and his papers. Meanwhile d’Eon, of whom everything could be expected but a retreat, failed to make his appearance in court. His counsel asked for an adjournment, alleging that the defendant had not had sufficient time to summon the witnesses whom he intended to produce; the judges refused the application and proceeded with the case. The desired verdict was given, d’Eon being found guilty; but when the officers of the law called at his residence to notify the sentence they found his apartments empty—the Chevalier had departed. Foreseeing that the trial would turn against him, he had taken refuge in furnished lodgings in the city, together with his cousin de Mouloize. So safe did he think himself, and so little did he trouble himself about his concealment, that he narrowly escaped being arrested forthwith by “two messengers of State who entered the house of Mrs. Eddowes, where the Sieur d’Eon was supposed to have taken refuge, with a warrant and a number of armed soldiers.” “The police officers,” relates d’Eon, “burst open doors, cupboards, and valises, in their search for me, and only found my cousin, de Mouloize, who was quietly warming himself beside the fire with Mrs. Eddowes and another lady. The other lady was she who is generally called the Chevalier d’Eon.”

The English ministers, goaded by de Guerchy, and furious at the blundering of the police officers, as well as at the laxity of their chief, were growing impatient. Lord Halifax, extremely displeased that d’Eon was still at large, was surprised at the Solicitor-General’s absence at this critical moment, and requested him to return hastily, in order that the affair might be no further delayed, and that the culprit might be arrested legally and brought before the court to receive sentence. All these measures proved ineffectual, for d’Eon had hidden himself, his recent adventure having taught him to be more prudent. He had set his spies to work, going out “only with all the vigilance a captain of dragoons should observe in time of war,” and was engaged in his retreat upon a “brilliant and exhaustive defence” against the cabal of the court. He was preparing the crowning act of his folly, the set-piece of the firework display with which to astound the ambassador. His “brilliant defence” was about to cause an unprecedented scandal, in London and Paris, unique in the annals of diplomacy. Having disdained to answer the notice of action served on him in the Court of King’s Bench, he was about to summon the ambassador of France before the grand jury of the Old Bailey on a charge of attempted poison and murder.

In fact, d’Eon renewed all his former accusations, having discovered an invaluable witness and gathered fresh proofs. At his instigation the Sieur Treyssac de Vergy reappeared upon the scene. Imprisoned for debt and deserted by the ambassador whom he had served with his pen, but from whom he had been unable to procure any help, Vergy turned to d’Eon quite repentant, promising to give evidence in support of extremely grave disclosures. He again affirmed that he had come to England by order of the ministers, who had made him understand that they desired “to bring d’Eon into disgrace; but that a skilful and an alien hand must do this.” No sooner had de Guerchy arrived in London than he brought about the events which, thanks to d’Eon, were already notorious. Vergy declared himself ready to sigh his statements, and to recapitulate them, for greater safety, in his will. In 1774, he again repeated them, when on the point of death, as the Chevalier’s papers prove.

However suspicious, such evidence was extremely compromising in the eyes of a British jury. Guerchy would not be convinced, refusing to believe that anybody could credit these fabrications, which “were enough to make one shudder.” More astonished than alarmed he merely remarked that “d’Eon had crowned his rascality.” The Chevalier was exulting openly; however, in order to avoid breaking with the secret minister, he strove to interest the Comte de Broglie in his behalf, and to induce him to make common cause with him. In a letter accompanying a copy of Treyssac de Vergy’s lengthy deposition he wrote:

The Comte de Broglie, who naturally desired to have nothing to do with such a campaign, refrained from sending the funds which d’Eon so insolently solicited. Several months before he had ceased to submit to the King the claims of his secret agent; but this time, realising the imminence of the scandal which d’Eon was about to cause, he asked Louis XV. to allow him to proceed to London in person. The King agreed to the Comte de Broglie’s proposal, and sought for a plea on which to obtain M. de Praslin’s approval of this mission. The design was abandoned, however, owing to an incident which threatened his secret diplomacy and completely absorbed his attention. D’Eon’s valet, a man named Hugonnet, who had been employed formerly as courier by the Marquis de L’Hospital, and afterwards by the Duc de Nivernais, was arrested at Calais when bearing despatches from Drouet, private secretary to the Comte de Broglie. Long suspected of being the intermediary of the secret correspondence, of which the ministers had some inkling, he had succeeded hitherto in baffling the spies set to watch him. Less fortunate this time, he was forcibly detained on applying at the offices of the Admiralty for his passport. “Upon his stating his name,” d’Eon relates, “the naval commissioner at once pointed his sword at his breast saying that he made him a state prisoner. Two grenadiers took him to M. de la Bouillie, commandant of Calais, who seized the bundle of papers and caused the said Sieur Hugonnet to be placed in close custody. He was then made to undress, his clothes and even the heels of his boots ripped open. A week later an officer of police arrived from Paris who had Hugonnet fettered and handcuffed, and removed him to the Bastille, chained by the waist to the coach-box of a post chaise.”

Hugonnet’s arrest brought about that of Drouet. The Duc de Praslin thought he had at last a proof of the Comte de Broglie’s correspondence with the criminal of the state, d’Eon, and he hastened to apprise the King of his discovery and his suspicions. Louis XV., seeing his secret again in danger, did not think of stopping the inquiry by simply expressing his will. He preferred the deplorable expedients to which his weakness had already led him to resort. Irresistibly attracted at all times by double-dealing, he contrived a comedy of which the subordinate agents of the ministers were to be at once the confidants and the actors. He sent for M. de Sartine, lieutenant of police, and ordered him “to lay aside all papers which might be seized in this affair concerning the Comte de Broglie, Durand, and Tercier.” Satisfied with this skilful, but still more strange, move, he wrote to Tercier making this admission, unexpectedly humble on the part of an absolute monarch: “I have unburdened myself and confided in de Sartine. He seemed pleased, and we must hope that his discretion and this mark of confidence will guide him aright. If we are disappointed, we will see what is to be done.”

Sartine had, at first, shown himself flattered with the secret unexpectedly entrusted to him; but it was not without misgivings that he undertook a dangerous part which was equally incompatible with his character and his office, and exposed him besides to the Duc de Praslin’s resentment. Indeed, so diffident had the Comte de Broglie found him that, in order to overcome his hesitation, he was obliged to reprimand him twice and to assure him that he could not refuse the service the King expected of him. Drouet’s papers were in consequence carefully sorted, and only a few unimportant letters were left to be investigated. Though the documents in question were now in safety there was still some fear of indiscretion on the part of the two prisoners, and Louis XV. was obliged to apply, directly and under the seal of secrecy, to M. de Jumilhac, Governor of the Bastille, in order that he should allow Tercier to enter the prison and communicate to Drouet and Hugonnet the depositions which the Comte de Broglie “had been more than fifteen hours preparing.” So well did each actor know his part, and so minutely was every detail foreseen, that the comedy was a complete success. No clear sign of a compromising correspondence could be traced, and de Praslin, who was present at the investigation, was forced to accept a judgment by which he was not really deceived. “I know well enough they are playing the fool with me,” he said to de Sartine angrily, as he left the court. But, conjecturing that he was running counter to a superior will, he resolved to await events before reopening the case.

Drouet was released after a few days; but Hugonnet was left in the Bastille, it being feared that too much indulgence would arouse suspicions. During his detention, which lasted over two years and a half, he lost all the savings of the calling whereby he had lived. In 1778 he was reduced to poverty, and if he obtained some slight compensation it was due entirely to the pressing appeals in his behalf which d’Eon made to M. de Sartine.

This incident, which had created so many different impressions at Versailles, had revived the hopes of revenge which de Guerchy nourished against his adversary and de Broglie’s partisans, and the news of this fresh defeat proved a bitter disappointment which increased the ambassador’s ire.

At this juncture strange reports began to be circulated about d’Eon, which were countenanced at the embassy, always ready to be malignant. The reserved habits of the Chevalier and the total absence of feminine intrigues in his life had long since excited ironical curiosity. Even the least perfidious tongues mocked the weakness of his constitution, others suspected him of being a woman; but many, attracted by the unusual, ascribed both sexes to the Chevalier. However strange and absurd such an assertion may appear, there is no doubt that it was made, and that it met, at this time as well as later, with amazing credulity. Other less ridiculous but more formidable insinuations, emanating from the same enemies, attributed to him the authorship of a defamatory pamphlet, published in the form of an anonymous letter addressed to the Lord Chief Justice. D’Eon was obliged to protest, and published a reply haughty enough to refute such accusations; but public attention, which he had courted so frequently, was now fixed upon him so persistently that several of the satirical works which it was becoming the fashion to treat with rigour were laid to his account. He was regarded as the author of a “dialogue between Mr. Frugality and Mr. Truth,” the ambassador and the ex-minister plenipotentiary of France being easily recognised under these pseudonyms. In Paris it was thought his bitter style was discernible in a work in six parts entitled: L’espion chinois ou l’envoyé secret de la cour de Pékin pour examiner l’état present de l’Europe. This was attributing to d’Eon many more books than he could possibly have produced. Engrossed by the judicial proceedings he had instituted against his ambassador, he had, with the assistance of his secretary and his lawyers, collected and often suggested the depositions of his witnesses. The grand jury of the Old Bailey met on March 1, 1765, and found a true bill against the Comte de Guerchy for conspiracy against the life of the Chevalier d’Eon. The case caused an extraordinary sensation. M. de Guerchy was expecting to be arrested at any moment; his butler, Chazal, who was accused of having administered the poison, had just taken flight, and also one of the secretaries who had written some of the libels. The cabinets of London and Paris were exasperated; Louis XV. and the Comte de Broglie thought it inconceivable that an ambassador could be delivered up to foreign tribunals. De Guerchy’s situation was all the more serious because the English law was founded on a number of intricate and not very well-known precedents. The case in point had been provided for by an extremely old statute, which jurisprudence had had no occasion to revoke. Only one case could be cited as an exact parallel, a trial which had led to the execution of the Portuguese Ambassador in the time of Cromwell.

De Guerchy could not believe that a similar fate awaited him; but the spirit of the English people had so frequently afforded him surprise that uncertainty increased his dejection, and drove him on to the most incautious measures. He was deeply humiliated, and his pitiful attitude was a source of infinite joy to d’Eon, who, triumphant, arrogant and full of threats, gave free rein to his malicious banter. “Considering the actual state of affairs,” he wrote to the Comte de Broglie, “it is absolutely necessary that the arrangement proposed by you should be at once concluded, and that you should be here without loss of time, say by the 20th of this month.... This is the last letter I shall have the honour of writing to you on the subject of the poisoner, that scoundrel de Guerchy, who would be broken alive on the wheel in France, did he meet with his deserts. But, by the grace of God, he will only be hanged in England.... I give you my word of honour that ere long de Guerchy will be arrested as he leaves the court, and taken to prison in the city of London. His friend Praslin will try to set him free if he can; but it is more likely that the friend to deliver him will be the executioner.”

The above ironical predictions were not fulfilled. So strange a finding could not justify the application of an expired law. The English cabinet would have dreaded the consequences, had they not already realised the injustice, and the absurdity even, of such a course. They at once began to search for a means of avoiding the danger of their immutable laws, and found one in the very arcana of their statutes. The suit was removed by writ of certiorari into the Court of King’s Bench. This new tribunal declared the indictment suspended, and, without settling the main point at issue, granted a nolle prosequi in favour of the ambassador.

The case was definitely withdrawn. The Comte de Guerchy was obliged to content himself with the paltry expedient which he had urgently demanded, but which did not efface in public opinion the disgrace of this scandalous trial. He retained the esteem of the ministers and of all discerning persons, but the general feeling in England was hostile to him. The King’s interference in a purely judicial matter was much criticised, and Lord Chesterfield, writing to his son, Philip Stanhope, questioned its legality. Among the people there was an outburst of indignation which threatened the person of the ambassador himself. The mob did not spare Guerchy their hisses, and one day they even stopped his coach. He had to hide his Cross of the Order of the Holy Spirit and declare that he was not the French ambassador but merely his secretary. Nevertheless, the threatening crowd followed him to the embassy, where the lacqueys hastily closed the gates, thus giving the police time to arrive and put an end to a disturbance which might have had extremely serious consequences.

De Guerchy’s position in London was becoming so intolerable that he took leave of absence and spent several months in France. In 1776 he made another short stay in England, and never afterwards returned. Durand was appointed his successor as minister plenipotentiary. He was one of the most faithful agents of the secret service, and had already represented the King in Poland.

D’Eon did not wait for the arrival of the new envoy, with whom he had been long acquainted, before attempting, by entreaties and intimidations, to resume his negotiations with the Comte de Broglie. The latter, still indulgent towards him, consented, deeming the opportunity favourable. The Chevalier made no further difficulty about delivering the royal warrants for his mission (but these only) to the new minister plenipotentiary, and, as is stated in the report drawn up at the time, he presented them “in good condition, folded in a parchment cover addressed to the King, and enclosed and cemented within a brick adapted for the purpose, removed from the walls of the cellar.”

In exchange for these papers, Louis XV. earnestly solicited by de Broglie and Tercier, and above all dreading d’Eon’s indiscretions and disputes, granted him a favour of which he deigned to inform him by his own hand:

So flattering a testimonial, which showed that his many scandalous intrigues were forgiven, if not forgotten, would have pacified a man less incensed. Sheltered by a minister plenipotentiary’s pension from the complete destitution in the midst of which he had been struggling for three years, anybody else but d’Eon would have gladly availed himself of this second opportunity for wiping out the past, in order to resume later a career greatly compromised, indeed, but in which his acknowledged talents still afforded him some prospects of advancement. Such was far from being the case, however; his destiny had driven him into adventures, and from this time adventures attracted him.

De Guerchy had died on his return to France. His health, undermined, it was said, by the anxieties of his embassy, never recovered from the final blow—the ridicule, if not disgrace, of his condemnation, to which he speedily succumbed. D’Eon’s hatred of this name which had proved so fatal to him was not disarmed by the death of his enemy, whom he continued to pursue with his pen. He was quite prepared for a fresh outburst of indignation against himself, in consequence of de Guerchy’s death, for which he felt sure he would be held responsible, and conjectured that he would meet with a hostile reception at court, should he venture to return to France.

The ministers’ resentment, which he had so freely mocked and scoffed at, and the anger of the house of de Guerchy, then all powerful, were sufficiently cogent reasons for his abandoning any idea of return. In England, where the judgment by which he was declared to be outlawed had just been annulled by the suit he had won against the ambassador, he was assured of a safe asylum and a degree of liberty that he could not hope to find elsewhere. Accordingly, he resigned himself to remaining there, fully determined to improve, by every possible means, a position he regarded as quite unjustly lowered, and to sustain that notoriety to which he had grown accustomed, and which had become indispensable to him.