Part 11
Such indifference on the part of the King continually exposed the secret correspondence, formerly guarded so jealously, to the danger of discovery. Moreover, the ministers had not been long in suspecting its existence. The Duc d’Aiguillon, who had guessed the part played by the Comte de Broglie, was now watching for an opportunity for detecting the intrigue, and also for revenging himself on a hidden rival whose arrogance had exasperated him. The still somewhat mysterious excursion of two agents of the secret service, Favier and Dumouriez, who appear to have attempted at that time to enter into a negotiation with Prussia to the prejudice of Austria, supplied the long-sought means of putting the Comte de Broglie in a false position. The duke caused a report to be spread at Versailles that a conspiracy had lately been discovered, and gave orders for the imprisonment in the Bastille of Favier and Dumouriez, who had just been arrested—the former in Paris, and the latter at The Hague, on his way to Germany. Failing to discover anything sufficiently compromising on the persons of these two subordinate agents, he made bold to suggest to the King that the Comte de Broglie’s papers should be seized.
Louis XV. replied, with feigned indifference, that he saw no reason for doing so; that the count, it was true, submitted to him, from time to time, reports relating to foreign affairs; but that these were historical matters, without any political tendency. D’Aiguillon was obliged to content himself with this explanation, and knew how to make the best of his ill success. Favier and Dumouriez appeared alone before three commissioners, one of whom the King had taken the precaution of seeing should be M. de Sartine, duly apprised as on a former occasion; they were sentenced to a few months’ imprisonment, Favier being sent to the fortress of Doullens, and Dumouriez to the castle of Caen.
As for the Comte de Broglie, whom the King had screened, guided by selfish motives rather than by a sense of justice, he only escaped imprisonment to be exiled. His arrogant character made it impossible for him to endure the mistrust in which he was held at court since the discovery of the intrigue. Conjecturing that the Duc d’Aiguillon was responsible for his disgrace, he wrote to him so imprudent a letter that, on its being communicated to the King, he was forthwith exiled to Ruffec. Louis XV. was not sorry to find a pretext for ridding himself of a devoted, but at times indiscreet, servant, whose zeal had become more and more importunate. Consequently, he paid no heed to the submissive and apologetic letters which the count sent to him from Ruffec, to the entreaties of the countess, or even to the appeals of the marshal. Nevertheless, he did not wish, or did not dare, entirely to withdraw his confidence from the secret minister, who, exiled and disgraced officially, continued to correspond clandestinely with the King’s private agents from his remote provincial residence.
The Comte de Broglie’s occupation was not destined to last long. It was now devoid of interest and utility, and was a mystery to nobody. The agents of Austria had made the cabinet of Vienna acquainted with the secret correspondence, and it kept the other courts of Germany punctually informed. In France even the ministers were now aware of the intrigue, and the court had had some inkling of it through the disclosures of the Cardinal de Rohan, to whom a spy in the _cabinet noir_ had confided it.
When Louis XV. died his secret was common property, and the policy on which he had vainly expended so much ingenuity, and sacrificed so much devotion, ended in a scandal which the death of the King himself was alone powerful enough to suppress. France did not lose a sovereign in this worn-out old man, become the plaything of a worthless woman, and even the agents of the secret service had no cause to regret a protector who had never made demands on their devotion without sacrificing them afterwards to his peace of mind. Consequently, they were not far from joining in the general rejoicings. By way of funeral oration, d’Eon wrote to the Comte de Broglie, only a few months after the King’s death:
It is time, after the cruel loss we have experienced of our _Counsellor-in-Chief_ at Versailles, who, in the midst of his own court, had less power than a king’s advocate at the Châtelet, who, through incredible weakness ever suffered his faithless servants to triumph over his faithful secret ones, and favoured his avowed enemies rather than his real friends; it is time, I say, that you should inform the new King (who loves truth, and of whom it is said that he is as firm as his illustrious grandfather was weak) of your having been the secret minister of Louis XV. for upwards of twenty years, and of my having been under-minister, under his orders and yours.
D’Eon, whose estimation of his services, and the functions which had been entrusted to him, was far from modest, then recapitulated his claims and grievances, compared himself with La Chalotais and expressed his hopes of a similar reinstatement, concluding as follows:—
As for you, Monsieur le Comte, you will know better than I how to represent by what jealousy, treachery, baseness, and foul vengeance the Duc d’Aiguillon keeps you still an exile at Ruffec, without your having ceased to be the friend and secret minister of the late King, until his death. Posterity could never believe in these facts, had not you and I all the necessary documents to establish them, together with others still more incredible. Had the late good King not expelled the Jesuits from his kingdom, and had he had a Malagrida for his confessor, nobody would then have wondered; but, by the grace of God, I hope the new King will soon deliver you and me out of our embarrassments. I trust that no Jesuit will ever be his confessor, friend, or minister, whether he be disguised as priest, chancellor, duke, peer, courtier, or courtesan.
Louis XV.’s secret minister had not waited for that letter before attempting to regain favour with the new monarch. He was obliged to present his defence in writing, being still in exile at Ruffec, and feeling the burden of the suspicions aroused by Louis XV.’s obstinacy in keeping so compromising a collaborator at a distance. He had to contend with all those who had formerly envied him; and Marie Antoinette’s influence on her husband, and her intention of participating in the administration of public affairs, did not improve the case of the man who had secretly attacked the Austrian alliance.
He therefore sent, on May 13, 1774, a memorandum to Louis XVI., in which he informed him of the various negotiations of the secret correspondence, and also of the places where the late King might have concealed his papers and letters, but which showed above all his anxiety to clear himself and to explain the part he had played personally. A fortnight later he wrote again to the King; but this time it was chiefly d’Eon’s conduct which he strove to explain and justify. In defending d’Eon, the Comte de Broglie was serving his own ends, and the very terms of his letter prove that he was aware of that fatal joint responsibility. “I conceive it to be possible,” he wrote, “that your Majesty has heard him unfavourably spoken of, and that you will therefore be astonished to find him included among the number of those persons honoured with the confidence of the late King.” He admitted that d’Eon’s excessive hastiness had given rise to “unseemly incidents,” but did not conceal the fact that the Chevalier was first provoked by the Comte de Guerchy’s want of tact. He concluded: “This curious person (since the Sieur d’Eon is a woman) is, even more than most others, a mixture of good and bad qualities, and he carries both to extremes.” The Comte de Broglie therefore urged upon the King that it would be wise to continue to pay to Mademoiselle d’Eon the pension conferred upon the Chevalier by Louis XV. For himself he asked more, and intimated that he would not deliver the secret papers until he should have been able to justify himself completely before a special commission. Louis XVI., who had bethought himself for a moment of continuing the secret policy of his predecessor, soon abandoned this project under the influence of Marie Antoinette herself, urged by her mother. His immediate care then was to pay off the staff of the secret service. In order to put an end to the Comte de Broglie’s claims, he gave him an opportunity of justifying his conduct before three commissioners—De Muy, Vergennes and Sartine—who did justice unreservedly to the discretion, penetration and ability which Louis XV.’s secret minister had shown during the course of extremely delicate negotiations. Such striking testimony might satisfy the count’s conscience, but it did not restore him to royal favour. Louis XVI. obstinately refused to confer a peerage, or even the least reward, upon his grandfather’s faithful and unfortunate servant. He confined himself to settling the pensions of the subordinate agents, henceforward deprived of all employment by the abolition of the secret service.
[Illustration: THE CHEVALIER D’EON
_From an Engraving published in 1810_]
Among these d’Eon alone was not included. The ministers thought that the figure of the pension which Louis XV. had conferred upon him was excessive, and hesitated to ensure payment in the same proportions. The motive for such liberality still existed, however, since numerous political papers were still in d’Eon’s possession. The Comte de Vergennes had been able to satisfy himself of this fact, and he wrote to the King on August 22:
M. de Muy and I have already seen the entire correspondence which the Comte de Broglie has entertained with the Chevalier d’Eon since he made return to his own country impossible. We are preparing a report which we shall have the honour of communicating to your Majesty, as well as the means we propose to employ for recalling a man whom it would be unwise to allow to remain in England.
The means in question were really suggested by the Comte de Broglie, who interceded on d’Eon’s behalf and undertook to induce him to come to an agreement. It was he who persuaded the King to continue the payment in full of the pension conferred upon the Chevalier by Louis XV. in the year 1766, and to authorise him to return to France.
In return, d’Eon was to surrender the secret papers and give his word of honour that he would desist from provoking or attacking in writing a family which he had already so unjustly persecuted. Such were the offers transmitted to d’Eon by the Comte de Vergennes in a letter approved by the King. It was decided that the Marquis de Prunevaux, captain in the regiment of Burgundian Cavalry, should proceed to London for the express purpose of conducting that negotiation. He was to deliver to the Chevalier a safe conduct, together with a note in which the Comte de Broglie exhorted him to submit readily and gratefully to the King’s will. “For my own part,” wrote the former secret minister in conclusion, “I am delighted to have been able to contribute to your securing a liberal and honourable retiring pension in your own country.”
What the Comte de Broglie regarded as an honourable pension was in d’Eon’s estimation a wretched gratuity, which in no wise indemnified him for the pecuniary losses he had sustained, and the disgrace he had incurred in consequence of his obedience to royal commands. Since the death of Louis XV. he had never ceased to profess himself “ready to submit to anything that might be agreeable to the new King,” but such feigned humility was merely the result of fear. He was afraid of being forgotten in London, and strove by the bait of the secret papers to involve Louis XVI. in a negotiation which he hoped to turn to good account.
Upon the arrival of the negotiator, he promptly forgot the disinterestedness he had displayed, and set about discussing eagerly the terms of the bargain. He did not doubt that this was a final opportunity offered him for deliverance once for all out of the unhappy plight to which his foolish pride had reduced him. An unexpected event revived his hope of reinstatement. Treyssac de Vergy, who had been implicated in his quarrels with the Comte de Guerchy, had just died, and, in a will which d’Eon immediately caused to be published in the papers, certified anew the truth of all the ambassador’s plots and nefarious designs, of which he confessed he had been the unwitting agent. The adventurer’s confession _in extremis_ was credited in London; Sir John Fielding declared d’Eon’s innocence to be “clear as daylight,” and Mr. Charles, tutor to the royal children, sent to the Chevalier the congratulations of Lord Bute, the minister. “The Chevalier’s old friend [Lord Bute],” he wrote, “to whom Charles has shown the enclosed document [a copy of the will], rejoices at the favourable turn affairs appear to be taking.”
So well, indeed, did D’Eon think things were getting on, that he protested strongly when the Marquis de Prunevaux made him acquainted with the Comte de Vergennes’ decision and offers. He declared heatedly that the terms were unacceptable, as they did not take into account “the amends due to his honour and the money owed by the court” to the former minister plenipotentiary. He proved so untractable that de Prunevaux forthwith informed the minister of the Chevalier’s frame of mind, which had completely upset their calculations. De Vergennes, perceiving that d’Eon’s moments of repentance were brief, charged the Comte de Broglie to make a last effort to persuade his former agent, who thereupon received a letter of judicious recommendations and salutary warnings. “Upon my return from Ruffec,” wrote the count, “I was greatly surprised to hear that you had not accepted the Comte de Vergennes’ offers.... I confess I do not see what grounds you have for such a refusal. I trust, therefore, you will listen to reason, consider your duty and your own interests, and redeem your faults, which prolonged resistance would aggravate irretrievably.”
But d’Eon would not listen to advice, urging that a minister plenipotentiary of France and a knight of the Order of Saint Louis could not “run away like so many despicable Frenchmen who had duped the generous English.” “He had promised,” he added, “never to quit the island before he had met his engagements.” The Marquis de Prunevaux concluded that his mission was at an end, and returned to Paris, bringing back nothing but a letter, at once humble and threatening, in which d’Eon permitted himself to state his own terms for returning to the King and the minister. He asked that he should be reinstated, if only temporarily, in the diplomatic rank and title he had held, and that the indemnities included in the enclosed detailed statement should be paid to him in full. It was, as M. de Loménie has justly remarked, the most impertinent _compte d’apothicaire_ (exorbitant bill) conceivable. Not only did d’Eon claim his captain’s pay for a period of fifteen years, as well as the reimbursement of his extravagant expenses during his ostentatious administration _ad interim_, but even the reimbursement of the “great expenses occasioned by his twelve years’ residence in London,” which amounted to the modest sum of 100,000 livres. His claims became completely farcical when the sum of 6000 livres was demanded for having refused Prince Poniatowsky’s present of a diamond of that value.
Item (the Chevalier continued)—the Comte de Guerchy dissuaded the King of England from making the present of a thousand guineas to M. d’Eon which he confers upon ministers plenipotentiary who reside at his court 24,000 livres
Item for several family papers lost by Hugonnet at the time of his arrest 27,000 livres
Item, to having been unable to look after his vineyards in Burgundy from 1763 to 1773 15,000 livres
When a few other no less imaginary monetary payments are added to the above, the sum total amounted to between 200,000 and 250,000 livres.
VIII
METAMORPHOSIS
The Comte de Vergennes, astounded and indignant, was obliged, although regretfully, to communicate to the King the extraordinary bill he had just received.
It is only remarkable (he wrote to his master) for its diffuseness and for the presumption and avidity which it reveals: it is throughout a fresh example of his extraordinary eccentricity. I wish I could spare your Majesty the perusal of this lucubration; but I cannot refuse the demands of this strange person without your Majesty’s orders.
The Sieur d’Eon sets so high a price on the surrender of the papers, of which he was the depositary, that all hope of recovering them must be abandoned for the present. But as it might be unwise to deprive him of all resources, by compelling him to make an ill use of the deposit, if your Majesty approves, things might be allowed to remain as they were on your Majesty’s accession to the throne.
Louis XVI. said that he had never read “a more impertinent and ridiculous document than d’Eon’s statement, and but for the importance of the papers in his possession, he should certainly send him about his business.” Moreover, he thought it useless to spend 12,000 livres a year for the safety of a secret which was decreasing in value day by day. D’Eon accordingly remained in London. He must have owned to himself that he had seriously injured his prospects by showing too much avidity, but he would not admit it officially, and he hastened, as usual, to inform the public of the negotiation which had been opened with him and which had failed, according to a London paper, because “the Chevalier deemed all pecuniary satisfaction beneath his honour, gold being but a means and not the object of great souls.”
It was, indeed, gold that d’Eon required. Harassed by his creditors, he resolved to pledge, and also to put in safe keeping, his precious correspondence, which he deposited with his friend Lord Ferrers, an English peer and an admiral. The latter advanced 100,000 livres on a sealed coffer containing the secret papers. This sum of money was not sufficient, however; in order to procure fresh supplies, and also, no doubt, to emerge from an inaction which weighed on him, he tried hard to obtain a situation. He even applied abroad, offering his services to the new Spanish ambassador, Prince Masseran, who replied declining his proposal.
Continual failures and fresh disappointments revived in d’Eon, more and more persistently, the idea which had already occurred to him as a venturesome and quasi-heroic means of extricating himself from his quandary. It was a difficult way of recovering his vanishing popularity; but he had little to lose and everything to gain. The deception which circumstances had formerly suggested to him might well become his last resort; and consequently he allowed the report, which he was afterwards to turn to account, to spread without any further contradiction. When the public were tired of repeating that d’Eon was a woman the papers took up the tale; and a portrait even appeared of the “modern Minerva.” This was the engraving which d’Eon took care to send to his old friend, M. de la Rozière, then Governor of St. Malo, who, quite amazed, acknowledged its receipt:
During my stay in Paris an English print was brought to me in your name, in which you are represented as Minerva, and the inscription of which so astonished me that I still hesitate to believe that the present came from you directly. I beg you will explain the meaning of this, which I cannot regard but as a pleasantry until you assure me that it is not so.
D’Eon took good care not to satisfy his correspondent’s curiosity on the point, which was about to become the talk of the town. But in order to effect the transformation with all proper brilliance, he required an auxiliary whose renown would further add to his own celebrity, and nobody could serve his purpose better than Beaumarchais, the intrepid and witty adversary of President Goëzman. That is why, as he wrote later on, “like a drowning man abandoned by the King and his ministers to the current of an infected river, he endeavoured to cling to the boat of Caron.”
At the time of the negotiation relating to the libel published in London against Madame du Barry, d’Eon, foreseeing all the advantages he might reap from such intercourse, had already laboured hard to make the acquaintance of Beaumarchais, his intermediary being no less a person than Morande himself, the author of the memoir, who had undertaken to bring about a meeting. “Beaumarchais is at my disposal,” he wrote to d’Eon; “he is an adorable man, and I see truth flowing from his pen. He writes so gracefully that I feel consumed with envy. Voltaire never approached him for style. You will form your own opinion of him to-morrow.” But the following day, Beaumarchais, put on his guard, perhaps, by the suspicious patronage assumed by d’Eon, begged to be excused on the score of work, and Morande, vexed, was obliged to write to the Chevalier: “M. de Beaumarchais will not stir abroad until Thursday evening, as he has much business to attend to, which prevents him from seeing anybody.” D’Eon related afterwards that Beaumarchais and he met spontaneously, “led, no doubt, by a curiosity natural to extraordinary animals to seek each other’s society.” The explanation is ingenious but incorrect, for, after buying Morande’s libel on Madame du Barry, and studying the cause of the American rebels, Beaumarchais returned to Paris, and it was only during his second visit to London, in May, 1775, that d’Eon was at last able to make his acquaintance. The Chevalier made up for lost time, and his intriguing skill won over the susceptible Beaumarchais to his cause. The witty author, who seems to have made it his profession to cover his contemporaries with ridicule, became not only his intercessor but his dupe, for d’Eon was clever enough to amuse himself at his expense.
Weepingly the Chevalier made his distressing confession to Beaumarchais, admitting that he was a woman, and drawing so touching a picture of his misfortunes that no sooner had his interlocutor returned home than he wrote to the King: “When it is considered that this creature, so persecuted, is of a sex to which all is forgiven, the heart is touched with gentle compassion.... I venture to assure you, Sire, that by treating this wonderful creature with tact and kindness, even though she be soured by twelve years of adversity, she will be easily prevailed upon to be submissive.”
Beaumarchais, then, was completely duped by d’Eon, as his friend Gudin was also. Their mistake makes it easier to understand how the King and his minister could be deceived, in their turn, by the positive assertions made to them in regard to a matter which had already been confirmed in England by public opinion. Besides, had not Drouet, three years previously, made the same surprising communication to the Comte de Broglie, who had attached sufficient importance to it to inform Louis XV.?