‘With reference to this royal avowal,’ continues D’Eon, ‘the Count de Broglio wrote to me: “Your stay in England rendered necessary an extension of the King’s generosity. But you will perceive that the proof he has himself been pleased to give you, and which remains in your keeping, will for ever be to you a glorious title-deed.... When your mind is at rest, and the noise you have made and are still making in the world will have subsided, we will see to arranging some plan whereby your services may prove still more useful to your country and to the best of masters. Conduct yourself prudently and wisely; win over the prejudiced; do not be minister or captain of dragoons any longer; give up the romantic; assume the attitude and speech of a quiet and sensible man—thus, and in course of time, your talents will be remembered, your old friends will return to you, your enemies will forget you, and your master will find a subject worthy of serving him, and worthy of the benefits he has already conferred upon him. Like yourself, and even more than yourself, I have experienced reverses; I have felt that it was quite possible for a private individual to be sacrificed in the general vortex; I have never supposed that this would entail the principal misfortune, that of incurring the just displeasure of his Majesty. I have ever had confidence in his justice and goodness, and I am fortunate enough to experience the effects of this at present.... With an honest heart and a spirit a little daring, but not fierce or violent, one may hope to overcome the hatred and envy of the whole universe.”’[229] D’Eon thanked the count for his friendly advice and good wishes, and took occasion to remind him of the undertaking that the stipulated pension should be paid with regularity; then, making up a sealed packet of the papers in his possession, he entrusted them to the custody of his friend, Mr. Cotes,[230] who unceasingly urged him to become a British subject, and give up France, a country in which nobody was certain of sleeping in his own bed. Testimonials such as that received from the King, and his continued employment in matters necessitating the greatest tact and circumspection, should suffice to acquit the Chevalier of having been a half-witted adventurer, as we find asserted by some writers. However impetuous, and of almost ungovernable passions, D’Eon was not a fool, nor, in the course of his history does it appear that any of his contemporaries seriously thought him one, if we except the exasperated de Guerchy, who thus sought to brand him, after having failed in his ‘blind authority,’ to ‘beat with a staff the child that might have led him.’