“I am not ashamed to tell you, Sir, who know me, that my confusion was extreme, in thus finding myself led into a conversation with an avowed assassin. I instantly ordered him to leave me, giving, at the same time, orders to the police officer who accompanied him, to send him out of the kingdom as soon as possible.
“It is probable that all this is unfounded, and that the wretch had nothing more in view than to make himself of consequence, by promising what, according to his ideas, would afford me satisfaction.
“At all events, I thought it right to acquaint you with what had happened, before I sent him away. Our laws do not permit us to detain him long; but he shall not be sent away till after you shall have had full time to take precautions against his attempts, supposing him still to entertain bad designs; and, when he goes, I shall take care to have him landed at a seaport as remote as possible from France.
“He calls himself here, Guillet de la Gevrilliere, but I think it is a false name which he has assumed.
“At his first entrance I did him the honour to believe him to be a spy.
“I have the honour to be, with the most perfect attachment,
“Sir,
“Your most obedient servant,
“C. J. Fox.”
I have given this letter in extenso, to show how a Gentleman of the grand Old School could act towards an enemy—feeling himself dishonoured by even conversing with a murderous traitor. It was chivalrous and manly, and well merited Napoleon’s remarks, contained in Talleyrand’s reply: “I recognize here the principles of honour and of virtue, by which Mr. Fox has ever been actuated. Thank him on my part.”