We may well pause awhile to recapitulate, and realise the parts that were being severally played by King, minister, ambassador, and late minister plenipotentiary, in this most extraordinary political drama. In the first place we see the late minister plenipotentiary as the custodian, not only of the King of France’s written secret instructions and correspondence, extending over a series of years, but also of highly compromising documents, the property of his Majesty,[178] of which, had their signification been known to the people of England, still agitated and discontented at the terms of the late peace, would inevitably have plunged the two countries in afresh and sudden war. Then we find the French Minister for Foreign Affairs, the willing instrument of the King’s malicious mistress, employing his old friend, the ambassador in London, to carry out her bidding by seeking to obtain the whole of the plenipotentiary’s papers, first by authoritatively demanding them, then by gentle measures, and afterwards at any hazard. The plenipotentiary and King’s secret agent proves true to his trust in refusing to make any surrender, without the express orders of his sovereign, whose secret commands to that effect he holds. Of this the Minister for Foreign Affairs knows nothing. The plenipotentiary cannot serve two masters, and elects to submit himself to the King’s will, of which he alone is cognisant. For refusing to yield to his superiors in office he is regarded as a rebel, then a traitor, is degraded, disgraced, and to be treated as if he were a common criminal, and this through orders wrested from the King by his minister! Thus Louis XV., a cowardly stranger to every emotion of the heart, suffers his name to be used as the authority for dishonouring the most faithful of his servants, and because apprehensive of the fate of his papers, and fancying he is no longer able to protect the custodian of them, secretly puts him on his guard, and although he recommends him to save himself if he can, remains carelessly indifferent to what might befall him; turns to his ambassador, admits him into the secret as the sole alternative that presents itself for ensuring himself from being compromised, directs him to secure the papers, to keep their existence and his possession of them a profound secret, and retain them until such time as he shall return to France, when he is to deliver them in person; this ambassador being the very man who, from the beginning, was the confidant and tool of de Pompadour and de Praslin, and against whose acquisition of the royal documents the plenipotentiary had long and successfully struggled, braving the hostility of ministers until he had effected his own ruin.

Had D’Eon been so inclined he might, solitary outcast as he was, have constituted himself master of the situation, and dictated his own terms. Offers amounting to forty thousand pounds were now made, if he would say what he knew regarding the late peace. Lords Bute, Egremont, and Halifax, the Duke of Richmond, Count Viri, and even the Princess of Wales, were accused, in the general excitement, of having received bribes from the French Court for their share in the negotiations; so great indeed was the popular indignation against the Duke of Bedford, who had conducted them at Versailles as the King’s ambassador, that he seldom dared to appear in the streets of London, where he had been hissed, and worse might have befallen him. It was believed, and with good reason, that the Chevalier D’Eon was in a position to settle any doubts on the matter, and it was sought to take advantage of his abandoned and penniless situation by tempting him with plenty; but the love of lucre was not a trait in the Chevalier’s character. ‘I am intractable as regards my honour,’ he wrote more than once; and even though his royal master, for whom he was enduring all things, should forsake him in time of greatest need, he loved his country too well to expose it to danger and to the scorn of the world, by betraying the King.

No sooner had the Chevalier received from M. Nort the Count de Broglio’s letter and substantial succour from the King—for it should be remembered that his emoluments and pension were stopped—than, brimful of emotion, and believing that in this material assistance he saw fresh earnest of interest in his behalf on the part of the monarch, now no longer trammelled by de Pompadour,[179] he expressed his heartfelt gratitude in these words:—

His behaviour was very different towards the Count de Broglio, in whose letter he found no reference whatever to his contentions with de Guerchy; his solicitations for redress against the injuries he had suffered at the hands of the ambassador remained unheeded, nor was there one word of encouragement that might be construed into probable consideration of the services he had rendered, privately to the King, and to his country. It simply contained a proposition that he should surrender the papers in his possession for a sum of money not stated, and as to his prospects in the future, they were left undetermined. He returned the count’s letter to Nort, under cover of a written declaration that he refused to consider it.

The French ambassador having been advised that the language employed in the Introduction to the ‘Lettres, Mémoires,’ &c. was libellous, immediately instituted proceedings against D’Eon, in which he was supported by the whole diplomatic corps in London.[181] The trial[182] was pending, and D’Eon, deserted and friendless, was careful to keep himself armed at all points, so far as lay in his power, against the coming struggle. He was satisfied that, provided he had custody of the papers, he was comparatively safe from any very great harm. Nort had brought to him no promise of protection, at a time that his liberty was in hourly peril; he should therefore continue to keep the papers until security of his person was guaranteed to him. Finding it impossible to treat with the Chevalier, Nort returned to Paris from his bootless errand, defeated and empty-handed.

Apart from his action for libel, the ambassador caused yet another pamphlet to be written and published by Goudard[184] (who wrote, says D’Eon, pro fame rather than pro fama), a vicious criticism on the volume of ‘Lettres, Mémoires,’ &c. The Chevalier ‘would not take the trouble to reply to this senseless rather than discriminating disquisition on his book, but availed himself of the opportunity afforded him on Easter Day, 1764, in chancing to meet Goudard in the Green Park, St. James’, to give him a sound caning in the presence of several respectable witnesses, to which the mercenary scribe never made any answer;’ and Goudard having boasted in a coffee-house that he had completely rebutted every argument advanced in the work, D’Eon gave out that since he had thus proved the vigorous nature of his jaw, he should borrow that ass’s jaw whenever he would have to combat des Philistins des Guerchiens et des chiens de Guerchy.[185]

At the time of which we write, the trial of John Wilkes at the Old King’s Court had already taken place, and the country was convulsed by what are known as the Wilkes’ riots.

The Chevalier was increasing in popularity, ‘for it is engraven in the hearts of the English to take part with the oppressed,’ at a time that de Guerchy’s conduct was not of a nature to gain for him the esteem of the ministers or people of England. He had come into disagreeable collision with the authorities, and found pleasure in persecuting several of his own countrymen in London,[187] who refused to be tyrannised over by him in a manner that was offending the sensibilities of the liberty-loving people amongst whom they lived, and especially at a time when that people believed they were engaged in a struggle for liberty, represented in their idol of the day—John Wilkes.

Some weeks previous to de Guerchy’s arrival, D’Eon wrote to apprise him that he might rely upon exemption from duty in accordance with the privileges of an ambassador, on all such goods as he might require to pass into the country, provided it was indisputably shown that they were for his sole use and benefit. The abuse of this privilege upon more occasions than one, after his arrival in England, called forth a strong remonstrance from the department concerned, to which de Guerchy replied by the assertion of privilege; the matter was consequently referred to the Lords of the Treasury, who terminated the discussion by informing Lord Halifax that their lordships would not enter into the consideration of all that had passed on the subject since his Excellency’s arrival, although, if it were necessary, they could produce instances which would be sufficient to convince his lordship that their officers were not to be charged with any unusual strictness in their treatment of his Excellency; neither would they enforce the necessity of the exact observance of the laws, or the propriety of the orders lately given for the strict execution of them, showing the many and notorious abuses which had been committed under pretence of the privilege; for they were only desirous to prevent the evil for the future, and not to complain of what was past.[188]

Upon another occasion, three constables were sent to the French Embassy to arrest the ambassador’s ‘gentleman of the horse,’ for having threatened the life of a woman and to set her house on fire, when the ambassador caused the gate to be closed, his servants assaulted the constables and confined them, and he himself tore up the warrant they presented. This outrage was followed up by de Guerchy’s complaint of the violation of the privileges of an ambassador, in the attempt to arrest his écuyer within the court-yard of his Excellency’s house. The law officers of the Crown having been consulted, the Foreign Secretary informed the King’s ambassador at the French Court that—

It was George III.’s birthday (June 4), and de Guerchy being recognised in the streets was insulted, and the windows of the Embassy were broken.

Writing to Tercier upon these events, D’Eon says:—

The spies and officers of police sent by the French minister and acting under the directions of de Guerchy, continued to watch every movement of the Chevalier, who they no doubt still hoped to kidnap, as had been the Marquis de Fratteau[193] some years previously. Five were lodged in Gerrard Street, close to Brewer Street, where he resided. His precautions he describes to an old friend, Captain Pommard, in Paris. When he went out, as he did daily, it was with all the vigilance a captain of dragoons should observe in time of war. His own spies were about. He had met his enemies, and had any attempt been made against his person, they would have been cut to pieces by the party he led. Every evening he reconnoitred at Ranelagh and Vauxhall; but acts of violence were not to be apprehended in England, and he was more on his guard against the stratagems of those with whom he was unacquainted, and of his false and therefore dangerous friends. That French emissaries were actually on the look-out to seize the Chevalier and carry him off to France in a vessel appointed for the purpose, does not appear to have been generally credited in London, judging by the obituary notices which appeared in the newspapers, where it is stated that if the Chevalier was not the author of the reports to that effect, he at any rate believed in them.[194] Were official confirmation of the plan for his abduction needed, it is to be found in de Guerchy’s handwriting, and in the instructions he asks, under date June 23, 1764, as to whether D’Eon is to be seized before or after his trial for libel.

The Chevalier’s case met with a good deal of sympathy, which found its way into the papers, and exhibited itself in anonymous letters cautioning him to be wary against his countrymen. His unknown correspondents recommended him to withdraw to Oxford, Bath, or other distant town, taking care not to allow even his most discreet friend to know the time of his departure or his destination.

He should not leave his house unless accompanied by some trustworthy person who spoke English and knew London well, and he should never think of going out at night.... Were any scoundrel sufficiently rash and villainous to dare to attack him, he should pitilessly shoot him or cut him in two with his sword.[195] That the Chevalier would have killed the first man who dared to lay hands upon him was no bombast on his part. He had written to Lord Mansfield, to the Earl of Bute, Mr. Pitt, and Earl Temple, to represent what were the designs of the French ambassador, the risk he hourly incurred of being kidnapped, and to seek their advice. He informed Lord Mansfield that he did not contract any debts, and avoided everything that could possibly lead him to an infringement of the laws. If, therefore, the law would appear to arm itself against his liberty, he must necessarily conclude it did so under a false pretence, being won over by the hatred of his enemies to deliver him to them. Such being the case, might he presume to ask his lordship, he who was the administrator of those laws which but interpreted primitive and natural laws, might he presume to inquire whether the necessity for self-defence did not place him in the position of repelling force by force? He ventured to think that his lordship’s heart contemplated such extreme measures with dread; but his equity, as was natural, would readily forgive any evils resulting therefrom. Such was his position, which he was obliged to bring to notice, in the hope that his lordship’s equity would offer some counsel that he was able to follow, and which should be equally in conformity with the requirements for his safety and with the laws of a country he loved and to which he owed so much.

Towards the end of June, the Chevalier received notice of the charges upon which he was to be tried, and a summons to appear on July 9, that being the end of Trinity term. He made an affidavit asking for adjournment to another term, to enable him to produce four witnesses who had been expelled the country by orders of the French ambassador. His application was refused, and it being simply impossible for his counsel, who knew nothing of French, to read and digest in the course of eight days his book of six hundred pages in quarto, he made up his mind not to appear. The trial came on before Lord Chief Justice Mansfield at the King’s Bench bar on the day appointed, upon information filed against him by the King’s command, as author of a libel on the Count de Guerchy, and in default was found guilty.[196]

D’Eon disappeared, and although not readily found, was by no means idle, for in this same month, July, the Marquis de Blosset, in diplomatic charge during de Guerchy’s absence on leave,[197] made application to Lord Halifax that the Chevalier might be compelled to cease printing certain papers which he believed to be the ‘Négotiations,’ in which his cousin, D’Eon de Mouloise, and M. la Rochette were also concerned. The English minister replied that it was impossible to stop the printing of books when the subject was not known, and on suspicion only;[198] and here the matter dropped. After a time, a clue having been obtained to the Chevalier’s place of concealment, the Solicitor-General was consulted on the legality of force being employed for arresting him and bringing him to the bar of the Court of King’s Bench to receive sentence upon the conviction. Sir Henry Norton gave it as his opinion that the officer having the paper process of the Court of King’s Bench for apprehending the Chevalier D’Eon, was thereby authorised and might legally break open the doors of a house though within the verge of the Court or of any other house, in order to take the Chevalier, if, upon request, the doors of such house should be refused to be opened; and it being believed that the house in which D’Eon was secreted stood within the verge of the Court, the Solicitor-General ruled that any objection on that account might be easily obviated by a proper application for the purpose.[199] No time was lost, and on the evening of the same day, November 20, a house in Scotland Yard, Whitehall, occupied by a Mr. Eddowes, was entered by an officer and five men, who said they had come with orders to seek and arrest, or take, dead or alive, the Chevalier D’Eon. They spent an hour on the premises, bursting open every door, not excepting even that of the room in which Mr. Eddowes, many years bed-ridden, was lying; and they were about to force open a closet and bureau, but that Mrs. Eddowes cautioned them against so doing, as the room contained papers and money belonging to the King. D’Eon was nowhere about the house, and she had not seen him for more than two months. The officer, whose conduct had been outrageous, then left with the search party.[200]

Having absconded from justice and failed to surrender himself to the Court of King’s Bench to receive judgment, the Chevalier was in due course, that is to say, on June 13, 1765, declared to be outlawed by judgement of the coroners for the county of Middlesex.[201]

The story must go back a few pages, that we may become the better acquainted with Treyssac de Vergy with whom we parted at the door of D’Eon’s back premises, through which he was ignominiously made to pass on the morning of October 27, 1763, when he had presented himself to settle an affair of honour pending between himself and the Chevalier. Whatever the latter’s hiding-place for several months after his conviction, it is very certain that de Vergy found him out the following September, and to his great astonishment favoured him one day with a call. Smitten with remorse and driven by despair, de Vergy had a confession to make which throws all the light needed on the designs of the triumvirate at Paris against the liberty and life even of the Chevalier D’Eon.

De Vergy then placed before the Chevalier the necessary papers to prove his identity, as he promised he should do in the declaration he had signed when they last met. He described himself as being a man of good birth, an advocate of the parliament of Bordeaux, and son-in-law to the Baroness Fagan; but having squandered his own and his wife’s fortune in riotous living, had tried his hand at literature, and published, in 1762, a work entitled ‘Les Usages,’ which brought him into favour with the Count d’Argental, not altogether, perhaps, the most desirable of patrons; still, he was an intimate friend of de Praslin, and as de Vergy was a candidate for any employment he could get, his friends advised him to stick to the count, since he had chanced to please him. De Vergy did so, and asked for his interest with de Praslin to obtain a nomination as consul or secretary of Embassy, which resulted in an introduction to de Guerchy, the new ambassador to London, through whom he was informed he might possibly obtain the secretaryship of Embassy, in the room of D’Eon, who had given displeasure at Court. De Guerchy referred him to d’Argental, and the latter, in a somewhat long interview they had, told de Vergy that he might have to pay for such an appointment, in case of need, with personal courage and blind devotion to the orders of the Count de Guerchy.

De Vergy went on to say that he was persuaded from this ambiguous language and the few words de Guerchy had said to him, that he was required to take part in some machinations, but to what end he could not conceive. He explained his dilemma to d’Argental, who put him at his ease by assuring him that he had nothing to fear, and as he was literally starving, he overcame his scruples and consented to leave for England where he preceded de Guerchy by several weeks. He was to assist in encompassing the ruin of D’Eon, and through him of the Count de Broglio; he was to spread reports injurious to the Chevalier’s reputation; if possible, to pick a quarrel with him, and write a pamphlet to his prejudice. It was thus that advantage was to be taken of his necessitous situation. It was his conscience, not his courage, that made him wince whilst doing the will of the ambassador, and when he had said to the Chevalier the evening they met at the Embassy, You do not know the fate that awaits you in France, it was his conscience that spoke and would warn him, and had the Chevalier replied in an encouraging and conciliatory manner, de Vergy would have confessed all to him. But he was depending upon the Count de Guerchy for his very existence.

‘I could not help laughing,’ notes D’Eon, ‘at this theory in explanation of the verdict of our conscience, and de Vergy laughed quite as heartily.’

Indeed, D’Eon had nothing but a piece of bread to offer, being himself in sore need; a refugee from the world![203]

Whilst preparing his ‘Lettre aux Français’ for the press, de Vergy enclosed extracts to de Guerchy, and threatened its immediate publication unless his Excellency would consent to buy it off by sending him the sum of eighty guineas and granting him some other favours, and he employed an attorney named Grojan to call at the Embassy, receive the money, and give a receipt for it. Such, at least, was de Guerchy’s statement, eventually unsupported as will appear in the sequel; but this circumstance being brought to the notice of Lord Halifax, the matter was placed in the hands of the Solicitor-General, by whom it was submitted that de Vergy’s attempt to extort money from the French ambassador by threats and vilifying his Excellency and his Court if his demands were not complied with, was highly criminal, and he might be legally prosecuted for the same, either by indictment or by information in the name of his Majesty’s Attorney-General, and if convicted upon the trial would be brought to condign punishment. Lord Halifax immediately instructed the Attorney-General to prosecute M. de Vergy by way of information in his name, and at the expense of the King, giving at the same time notice to this effect to the French ambassador.[204] Actions for libel, however, were of such ordinary occurrence at this period of social disorder, that as many as two hundred informations were filed against printers and others in the course of the year.