While demanding the restitution of the warrant commissioning d’Eon to make surveys in England with a view to an invasion of that country, Louis XV. had no intention of depriving himself of any services his secret agent could still render him in the capacity of informant. He knew that d’Eon had a thorough knowledge of the country, that he was well received in the upper classes of English society, and that he enjoyed genuine popularity, and consequently invaluable influence, in the lower. The King was anxious only to recover possession of a document bearing his own signature, which in the hands of an adventurer might prove dangerous, if not to French diplomacy, at least to the security of the secret correspondence. But, in his haste to make sure of the Chevalier’s silence, he omitted to demand the restitution of other papers which touched him less personally—namely, the instructions for the mission, written by the Comte de Broglie, and the entire correspondence relating to that subject, not to mention original despatches and copies which had been kept by d’Eon after his temporary position at the embassy. D’Eon had carefully refrained from parting with such precious documents, which might yet enable him to bring pressure to bear upon a government from whom he had received more promises than pay. Appeased by de Guerchy’s death, and less apprehensive, he applied himself again to the secret correspondence. Moreover, the Comte de Broglie gave him every encouragement in his letters. He tried also to make him realise the full extent of the last royal favours, and recommended him “to conduct himself with modesty and wisdom in future, and to abandon the romantic pose for the attitude and speech of a sensible man. Thus, and in course of time,” he added, “your talents will be remembered.... With an honest heart and a brave spirit, but not a fierce or violent one, the hatred and envy of the whole universe may be overcome.”

In another letter, written somewhat later, in which one can see the personal anxiety caused by the weapons remaining in his correspondent’s hands, the Comte de Broglie urged d’Eon to win the good-will of M. du Châtelet, the new ambassador, by delivering to M. Durand, who was returning to France, “the ministerial and other papers of every description” which were still in his possession. He concluded as follows: “I have received nothing from you since the letter I wrote to you in cypher at the end of last month. You have not acquainted me with what has passed in the interior of England. I recollect, and have not concealed from his Majesty, that you attribute the fact to the absence of your friend, Mr. Cotes, from the capital, but your ingenuity should supply the deficiency.”

The reproach itself proves how greatly the Comte de Broglie prized the information supplied by his correspondent. Entirely divested of any official position, d’Eon was still a newsmonger to whom the King’s secret counsellors constantly applied, and whose communications frequently influenced them in their decisions. His cultivated mind and natural curiosity had enabled him to acquire knowledge of state affairs while engaged in diplomatic negotiations. Unreasonable in his personal resentments, pretentious and imprudent in all that concerned himself, in politics he was a discerning judge, an accurate, and frequently a shrewd, observer. His fertile imagination, though wanting in tact, gave facts a graphic and original turn. The portraits he sketched, with a slight tendency towards caricature, were nevertheless faithful. “D’Eon,” says the Duc de Broglie, “was the precursor, if not the first, of those political reporters who play so important a part in the destinies of all the European parliaments.” He delighted and excelled in his task.

If d’Eon declined to follow the Comte de Broglie’s interested advice on the subject of the “ministerial papers,” he at all events showed that he was affected by the reproaches he had incurred for his negligence. Thus, during the course of rather over seven years, we find him drawing up reports, which he entitled “political letters,” and which he sent to the secret minister, either corresponding in cypher under his own name, or openly under the name of William Wolf. In these reports he discourses on war and finance; gives brief statements of home administration and colonial aspirations; relates carefully parliamentary debates and party quarrels; and does not omit to mention the little incidents of the court and the intrigues of the diplomatists. In one of his letters, selected from among many others, in which he expatiates on the question of General Warrants—a burning question in England at that time—he reports the love affairs of the royal princes. The Duke of York, surprised with a lady by her jealous husband, had just received a sword thrust in the shoulder; his brother, the Duke of Gloucester, on the point of contracting a secret marriage, was to be sent abroad. The Duke of Brunswick neglected his wife because he had discovered that she had contracted the king’s evil, which had broken out on the leg.

In this same letter, after this scandalous gossip (which, however, is not always a negligible quantity in politics), d’Eon touches lightly upon a matter of the greatest interest—namely, the overtures made to him by Lord Bute, the ex-minister, with a view to an eventual restoration of the Stuarts. Concerning this the Chevalier stated as his own point of view that “men and matters were not sufficiently matured.” The Comte de Broglie hastened to reply that he should follow up the proposals without binding himself; but the project, so frequently considered by France, was once again abandoned. In the same year d’Eon informed the cabinet of Versailles and Prince Masseran, the Spanish Ambassador, of “England’s design to invade Mexico and Peru in the approaching war, on the plan devised by the Marquis d’Aubarède, who was in receipt of a pension from England.” But the sphere of his inquiries was not confined to England; the correspondence he entertained with acquaintances in Russia enabled him in 1769 to apprise the King of an expedition which the Empress was then planning against the Turks, and which actually took place eight months later.

In an affair that occurred at the same time, and caused a great stir in London, d’Eon played a more active part, which, thanks to his great ability, obtained for him the approbation of the two courts and of the whole of English society. At this time the Liberal party, which had been increasing from day to day under the leadership of Wilkes, made a last effort to overthrow the cabinet. Dr. Musgrave, one of the leaders of the party, had just issued a virulent Address to the Gentlemen, Clergy, and Freeholders of the County of Devon. In this document he renewed the insinuations against which d’Eon had already protested in the papers as early as the year 1764, and which represented that the Princess of Wales, Lord Bute, the Duke of Richmond, Lord Egremont, and Lord Halifax had received money from France at the time of the conclusion of the treaties. Dr. Musgrave further stated that he was prepared to support his charge by fresh evidence, which he had obtained during a recent stay in Paris, and asserted that the overtures had been made through the medium of the Chevalier d’Eon, in whose possession the papers relating to that affair had assuredly remained. Finally, in a direct attack on Lord Halifax, he reproached him for having refused from personal motives to prosecute a public inquiry with regard to d’Eon’s papers, or to examine the Chevalier himself. He invited that nobleman to justify his acts before Parliament. The Secretary of State did not hesitate to accept Dr. Musgrave’s challenge, and triumphantly refuted his accusations in an eloquent speech. Parliament declared them to be groundless, and severely reprimanded the orator who had formulated them. D’Eon, besides, contributed in some measure to Lord Halifax’s success, protesting before the debate against the pamphlet by “depositions and publications.” At an early stage of the affair he addressed the following letter to Dr. Musgrave, which was reproduced by the periodicals of the day:

This reply was received with equal satisfaction by the two governments, who, having no interest in throwing too searching a light on the facts of the case, did not fail to add their approbation to that which public opinion had already bestowed upon the Chevalier.

However, if he had had no intercourse with Dr. Musgrave, d’Eon had been able to secure the attachment of another popular member of Parliament, the celebrated John Wilkes. He had even proposed, for a moment, that the cabinet of Versailles should assist the great agitator in conspiring against the house of Hanover. The Comte de Broglie almost suffered himself to be persuaded; but the King refused to engage in so rash an undertaking; and Drouet, the count’s secretary, was despatched to London to put a stop to the enterprise. D’Eon, nevertheless, had not broken with Wilkes; and, thinking that he might make use of him in another way, he wrote to the Count de Broglie:

These numerous intrigues testify to the ingenuity and activity which d’Eon did not cease to display at every turn. He was ever on the watch, ever ready to follow the first trail which chance or even his imagination supplied. Though wounded in his self-love and disappointed in his ambition, d’Eon did not resign himself to becoming useless, to being forgotten. Elated by too rapid a success, he was attacked with a malady rarer at that time than at the present day—the passion for advertisement. He must attract attention, even at the risk of incurring blame, preferring the questionable reputation of an adventurer to the obscurity of an honest servant of the King. Besides, he thought that by rendering the King new services, even should they be unsolicited, he would be strengthening his claim to a pension which was paid to him with no regularity. The privy purse was indeed often empty, as most of the private letters reveal. The Chevalier was in consequence sadly in want of money; he petitioned the Duc de Choiseul, renewed his complaints to the Duc d’Aiguillon, who, thanks to Madame du Barry’s protection, had just succeeded the Duc de Praslin as Minister for Foreign Affairs; and he entreated the Comte de Broglie. “I am dying of starvation,” he wrote to the count, “between the two pensions you have granted me, like Buridan’s ass between the two bundles neither of which he could reach with his mouth.” He was in despair, and although he had always refused the offer of the English Cabinet, which promised him an equal, but more punctually remunerated, post if he applied for letters of naturalisation, he would willingly have quitted the service of France, provided it was for the benefit of a friendly nation.

Indeed, he was seriously thinking of transferring his allegiance to Poland, where the nobles had just chosen Stanislas Poniatowsky, the favourite of Catherine II., as their king. During his residence in Russia d’Eon had been at great pains to ingratiate himself with that brilliant prince, and his efforts had been crowned with success. On the election of Stanislas, he therefore hastened to present his respectful congratulations to the new king, and informed him that he should be extremely happy to enter his service. Stanislas having answered him kindly and having even invited him to join him at Warsaw as soon as he could, d’Eon at once wrote to him a grateful and effusive letter, of which he kept a copy, and in which he dwelt complacently upon his capabilities, with a view, no doubt, to obtaining a more advantageous offer.

D’Eon, still worried by the recollection of his scandalous dispute, did not omit to send with his letter a copy of the “literary productions which he had,” he said, “been compelled to publish during his past unhappy dissension with the deceased ambassador of France, M. de Guerchy.”

D’Eon’s papers do not admit of the belief that he received an answer to that letter, but if so, it was by word of mouth and by the interposition of a chamberlain of the King of Poland who happened to be in London. At all events, d’Eon must certainly have hesitated to follow up that attractive design, for M. de Broglie, of whom he had asked permission to enter the service of Poland, replied that it was “the wish of the King” that he should not leave London without his Majesty’s orders, that “there was no other place where he could be in greater safety from the malice of his enemies or where he could serve the King more usefully.” He advised him to keep up a correspondence with the King of Poland, overwhelmed him with compliments, and mentioned in conclusion that his Majesty was convinced “of his attachment and loyalty.” If d’Eon’s object in confiding his design to the secret minister was merely to raise the price of his work and to sound the King’s intentions concerning him, he might have realised that the services he had rendered in voluntary exile had not sufficed to blot out from the King’s mind the recollection of his follies. He sincerely considered himself a political victim, and thought he had much in common with the unfortunate Cato, to whom an eminent doctor of divinity of Oxford had once compared him.

The Comte de Broglie’s letter must have confirmed his proud conviction; but at the same time it vexed him greatly, for he was too cautious to be deceived by the count’s handsome promises and to fail to see that what was demanded of him was his self-effacement. No cruder punishment could have been meted out to him.

In the course of his contentions with the ambassador d’Eon had not scrupled to make use of one invective after another; but he had, perforce, exposed himself in his turn to most offensive repartees. A strange insinuation had been made against him which had not remained unnoticed, and which, cleverly turned to account and well circulated, had finally excited the curiosity of a people ever on the watch for eccentricities. One of the pamphleteers in de Guerchy’s pay had raised doubts as to the nature of the Chevalier’s sex, whose “dragoon’s uniform,” he said, “concealed a woman or a hermaphrodite.” D’Eon’s frail appearance, small stature, slender figure, and the delicate features of his almost beardless face lent colour to this idea. He was not known to have had any of those amorous adventures of which it was unusual at that time to make a mystery. D’Eon, who, in the heat of the controversy, had probably attached no importance to that strange insult, had taken no notice of it. Besides, he must have felt it less than anybody else, for he was wont to speak openly “of the singular lack of passion of his temperament,” taking in good part the banter which neither the Marquis de L’Hospital nor the Duc de Nivernais had spared him. His acquaintances in London had often expressed surprise at the discrepancy in such an exuberant personality. John Taylor, a contemporary of d’Eon, relates, in his Records of My Life, that “several marriages with ladies of good family, and with large fortunes, had been proposed to him at the country seats he visited; but that upon all such occasions he immediately left the house, whence it was inferred he quitted the place on account of his being really of the female sex.”

The French ambassador (at that time M. du Châtelet) was persuaded that d’Eon was a woman, and had not been slow to inform the King of the public report which was spread upon Princess Daschkow’s arrival in London. The princess, a niece of Woronzow, the Grand Chancellor of Russia, who had so effectually assisted the Empress Catherine II. to rid herself of her royal husband and to ascend the throne, was living in exile by the order of her sovereign. She had taken refuge in England and had not omitted to relate at court and in society that the Chevalier d’Eon, whom she knew well at St. Petersburg, and whose eccentricities were the topic of every conversation, had presented himself at the imperial palace attired as a woman, and that the Empress Elizabeth, deceived by the disguise, had admitted the young officer of dragoons into the circle of her maids of honour. This story, which confirmed the most credulous in their convictions and excited the curiosity of the sceptics, made the question of d’Eon’s sex the topic of the day, and led to a succession of those bets which were then so common in London, and for which the most trifling incident served as a pretext. Insurance policies were effected at Brooks’s and White’s, the quotations being posted up in the coffee-houses; and the memoranda which have been handed down to us show that the stakes frequently reached a thousand pounds.

The news thus spread soon crossed the Channel, causing no less astonishment in Paris, where it was eagerly discussed in fashionable as well as official circles. Bachaumont, the literary and political chronicler of the time, states in his Mémoires, under date of September 25, 1771: “The reports which have been countenanced for several months to the effect that the Sieur d’Eon, that fiery person so celebrated for his adventures, is only a woman dressed in man’s clothing, the confidence with which the rumour has been received in England, and the wagers for and against amounting to over a hundred thousand pounds, have revived the attention of Paris about that strange man....” This testimony, which can easily be verified by the newspapers of the day, does not in the least exaggerate the interest with which the French public continued to follow d’Eon in his exploits. It would be difficult to believe such extravagant statements if the portraits of the hero and the most varied caricatures which were published at that time had not come down to us, and if traces of that curiosity were not to be found in the periodicals and magazines of the various capitals. Journalists, artists, song-writers and minor poets exercised their talents in his honour to their hearts’ content. Thus, among so many transient documents, we find in the Almanach des Muses of 1771 the following verses, flattering in their credulity and kind in their irony:—

This revival of popularity was anything but displeasing to the vain Chevalier, whom the ambassador’s death had reduced to a state of comparative oblivion. He did not hesitate to brave ridicule, having furnished sufficient proofs of virility, sword, sabre or pen in hand, and took delight in being talked about. Ladies, especially, showed curiosity, and seemed almost anxious to reckon the dashing Chevalier as one of themselves. Their curiosity encouraged them to ask him point blank for the answer to the enigma, as the daughter of Wilkes, the member of Parliament, did, with audacious ingenuousness:

If curiosity expressed so candidly was quite charming, the much more practical interest which the uncertainty had awakened in the gambling world was manifested with greater boldness and impatience. It was also harder to baffle, and d’Eon soon experienced again the disadvantages of celebrity. Not only did the papers report the wagers day by day, but extremely satirical caricatures began to appear. Anxious to drive d’Eon to extremities, those who had laid wagers became more and more impertinent, and at last went so far as to assert that the Chevalier shared in the insurance policies made on his sex. This insinuation decided d’Eon to break the silence he had preserved until then, by making an energetic protest. On March 20, he proceeded to the Exchange, and to several neighbouring coffee-houses, and there, in uniform, walking-stick in hand, he compelled “the money-broker Bird, who was the first to start one of these impudent insurances, to beg his pardon.” Bird assured him, in the face of his apologies, that, following an Act of Parliament, he and other bankers besides had the right to effect the most extraordinary wagers, even with regard to the royal family, except so far as concerned the life of the King, the Queen and their children. D’Eon, who relates this incident in a letter to the Comte de Broglie, adds: “Yielding the choice of weapons, I challenged the most incredulous and the most insolent of the entire assembly (which numbered several thousands) to fight; but not one of those male adversaries in this great city dared either to cross sticks or to fight me, although I stayed among them from noon until two o’clock.” This swaggering tirade had not exactly the desired effect; for although his antagonists, intimidated by so expert a swordsman, did not accept the challenge, their curiosity was still as intense as ever, and became so aggressive that the Chevalier was obliged, a few days later, to furnish more obvious proofs “of a sex which he stamped in a most virile fashion on the faces of two insolent fellows.” Incessantly exposed to such impertinences, and informed that several wealthy gamblers were determined to kidnap him, by stratagem or by force, d’Eon realised that he could not hope to avoid so great a humiliation by hiding himself in London, as he had formerly succeeded in doing, or even by shutting himself up in his house in Brewer Street. Accordingly, he resolved to follow the advice of his friend, Earl Ferrers, and to accept that nobleman’s hospitality at his seat at Staunton Harold. Thence he intended to repair to Ireland, to spend several months there, and not to return until the disturbance had subsided. He therefore set out without taking leave of any of his friends, and apprised only the Comte de Broglie of his flight. In his letter he protested emphatically against the reports accusing him of having an interest in the policies of insurance, and concluded by this evidently sincere confession, which fully explains many acts of his adventurous life: “I am terribly mortified at being what nature has made me, and that the natural lack of passion in my temperament, which has prevented my engaging in amorous intrigues, should induce my friends in France, in Russia, and in England to imagine, in their innocence, that I am of the female sex; and the malice of my enemies has strengthened all this.”

D’Eon travelled in the north of England under an assumed name and, after spending a few weeks in Scotland, was preparing to proceed to Ireland when news reached him through the papers which obliged him to alter his plans. His friends, alarmed at his disappearance and fearing that he had fallen a victim to some attempt on the part of those interested in the wagers, were causing inquiries to be made in London and had published his description. His creditors, no less concerned, had just demanded that the doors of his lodging should be sealed; lastly, he was publicly accused of participation in the wagers. Dreading lest the indiscreet zeal of the officers of the law should lead to the discovery of his papers, d’Eon hastily returned to London. Upon his arrival he at once repaired to the Mansion House, and delivered to the Lord Mayor a deposition under oath to the effect that he was “not interested to the value of one shilling, directly or indirectly, in the policies of insurance” made on his sex. The Public Advertiser published this affidavit the same evening, and d’Eon, anxious to clear himself from such an imputation in the sight of his chief, sent him an extract from the newspaper, not without accompanying it by fresh protestations. “It is not my fault,” he wrote, “if the rage for betting on all matters is a national failing among Englishmen. I have given proof, and will again do so to their hearts’ content, that I am not only a man, but a captain of dragoons with sword in hand.”

It is strange to find d’Eon claiming, in July 1771, so energetically (for it was the last time that he did so without ambiguity) his real sex. From that moment he began to entertain the idea of the audacious farce which he only decided to enact some time later, and the plot of which was suggested by his contemporaries themselves. His resolution to transform himself into a woman was formed between the months of July 1771 and April 1772. If he still abstained for over a year from avowing his supposed sex to his protectors, if he still hesitated to make his transformation public, he proved more communicative with a friend, who informed the secret minister, and so indirectly the King. D’Eon first confided in Drouet, secretary to the Comte de Broglie, who happened to be in London at the time. The latter had not omitted to rally d’Eon on the subject of the sex which was already being ascribed to him in Paris also, whereupon d’Eon exclaimed, and, to his interlocutor’s profound astonishment, asserted that he really was a woman. His parents, he said, misled at his birth by doubtful appearances, and being particularly anxious, as in every noble family, to have a male heir, had compelled him to assume a sex other than that which nature had bestowed upon him. His disposition and education had enabled him to play his part in public, and his talents to achieve a brilliant career. D’Eon exerted in support of this theory all the eloquence of which he was capable, and as Drouet remained incredulous he indulged in an unseemly comedy, which he revived at a later period in the presence of the adventurer Morande, and thereby managed entirely to convince the Comte de Broglie’s secretary. Upon his return Drouet at once reported the unexpected discovery to his master, who wrote to the King, in May 1772:

It is difficult to believe that this letter can have sufficed to convince so shrewd a monarch, who had long since taken d’Eon’s measure. Like Voltaire, Louis XV. must have regarded all this as an absurd sham, the first news of which had, some months previously, left him sceptical. The very astonishment he had then shown disproves the assertion that the sovereign was the Chevalier’s secret accomplice. But that is the theory which Casanova has ventured to sustain in his Mémoires: