When the trial of M. Wilson and the prefect came on, they were acquitted, not by a verdict of Not Guilty, but because the French Code contained no clause that constituted it an offence for a man to obtain possession of his own letters.  The judge, when he acquitted the accused, stated that there was no doubt whatever of the substitution.  Then from all sides information began to pour in from people who had paid money to M. Wilson to procure them ministerial or presidential favors, and such disclosures could not but reflect on M. Grevy.  Instantly his enemies seized their opportunity.  For once, Monarchists and Anarchists united and endeavored to force the president to resign; but the old man stood by his son-in-law in his hour of adversity, and would not go.

Then the coalition changed its base, and attacked M. Rouvier, the prime minister.  He was outvoted in the Chamber on some insignificant question; and having no parliamentary majority, he was forced to resign.  By no efforts could M. Grevy get anyone to take his place.  Once he thought he had persuaded M. Clemenceau, a Radical leader, to form a ministry; but his party gave him to understand that they would not support him.

The president, then seventy-five years of age, was in a position in which anyone but a partisan political opponent must have been moved to pity him.  He had been so long and so loudly extolled for his extreme respectability and his austere virtues that he had never dreamed that public opinion on such a point as this could turn against him.  He could not endure the idea of being dismissed with contempt less than two years after his re-election to the presidency by the unanimous vote of all Republicans.  He was willing to go, but he did not choose to be forced to go by the brutal summons of an infuriated public.  Yet France, pending his decision, was without a government.  Something had to be done.  He employed every device to gain time.  He had interviews with men of various parties.  He grew more and more care-worn and aged.  His troubles showed themselves in his carriage and his face.  “By turns he was insinuating, eloquent, lively, pathetic.  He showed a suppleness and a tenacity of purpose that amazed those brought into contact with him.  If he could but gain time, he hoped that the Republicans would disagree about his successor, and decide to rally round him; but at last he was forced to send in his resignation.  He did so Dec. 1, 1887, in a message which, by the confusion of its language, betrayed the anguish of his mind.”  A few days after giving up his quarters at the Elysee as president of the Republic, he was stricken down by paralysis.