Had he to music added poetry,
Apollo's self He'd been mistaken for.
After the death of the Duke of Orléans in 1785, Saint-Georges needed to replace the loss of income that he had suffered with the Duke's death, thus he decided to go to London to engage in a series of fencing bouts with the most famous English and international fencing-masters. He arrived in England in the spring of 1787, taking a short leave from his musical enterprises.
Palais de Soubise
Chapter IV
Saint-Georges in London
In England, his reputation as a fencer and musician was well known, and with the additional help of some indispensable letters of introduction which were very important to the English, he was admitted to the English aristocracy.
In London, Saint-Georges gave many fencing exhibitions and even fenced with Fabian, a friend and a famous professor from Paris. But the most celebrated of his duels was on April 9, 1787 with the Chevalière d'Eon de Beaumont. Attending this celebrated event were such famous sword fighters as Nogee, Reda, Rolland, Goddard, de la Motte, one of Saint-Georges' best friends, the Prince of Wales, later George IV, King of England and Angelo junior, the son of the famous fencing master, Henry Angelo. Henry Angelo senior had been the teacher of Mademoiselle d'Eon.
The senior Angelo left two works describing the life and times in England in the eighteenth century. I have already quoted from these books, Angelo's Pic Nic or Table Talk, and Reminiscences of Henry Angelo. Angelo, of Italian heritage, was now an English citizen. He knew Saint-Georges well and every other fencing-master of that time admired his skills with the foil.
La Chevalière d'Eon (1728-1810) was born Charles de Beaumont d'Eon, a man. Much talk and many jokes circulated about this woman who had lived an entire lifetime as a man, who had an outstanding military career, but in his fifties, decided to put on the clothes of a woman and live a different life, "in order to perform in women's clothing, new and precious services to the French monarchy." Thus this gentleman Knight became a lady Knight.
Several books were written about the extraordinary career of this person. What was certain was that he was a great diplomat and a great fencer. He was known and respected in all the courts in Europe. Rumor had it that he had been born a girl and that his parents, having grown tired of having girls, decided to make her a boy.
One of the books about him by M. de la Fortelle, a contemporary of d'Eon's, has as its title:
The military, political and private life of the demoiselle Charles Geneviève-Louise-Auguste-Andrée-Timothee Eon or d'Eon de Beaumont, esquire, knight of the royal and military Order of Saint-Louis, a former captain of dragons and of army volunteers, aide de camp of the maréchal and compte de Broglie, doctor in civil law and in droit canon, lawyer of the Parliament of Paris, royal censor for history and belles-lettres. Sent to Russia secretly at first then publicly with the Chevalier Douglas for the meeting of this court with that of Versailles, secretary of the Embassy of the Marquis de l'Hospital, ambassador extraordinary to plenipotentiary of France for his Imperial Majesty of all the Russians, secretary of the Duke of Nivernais, Ambassador and plenipotentiary of France and England for the conclusion of peace, resident minister of this Court after the departure of the Duke of Nivernais, finally plenipotentiary minister of France in the same Court, known until 1777 under the name of Chevalier d'Eon.1
The title of the book gives a summary of the life of the Chevalier d'Eon. I will refer to our challenger as she, since it was a she who came to fence with Saint-Georges.
It seems that she had retired on a pension of 12,000 livres and could not live very well on it. An additional five thousand pounds sterling was paid by Louis XVI to extricate her out of her difficulties. Since she needed money, it wasn't too difficult to persuade her to challenge Saint-Georges, in spite of her lack of confidence due to her advanced age. So, she was there for the same reason as Saint-Georges, to improve her finances.
In her book, The Chevalier d'Eon by Marjorie Corny, a complete account of this celebrated event is given. Here is the account of what took place:
Carlton House was ablaze of lights. In the great drawing room, hundreds of candles shed their soft radiance over a crowd of fashionable men and bejeweled women who were pressed, seated or standing, around a small roped-off enclosure in the middle of the floor. Presently the buzz of conversation was stilled, and those who were seated rose to their feet as a pleasant-faced, rather stout young man entered the room, bowing in friendly fashion to right and left. Evidently the evening that the company awaited was of some interest and importance since the Prince of Wales himself was present as spectator. The Prince took his place, and the interrupted flow of conversation took up its course again. Then, another interruption as a young man in knee breeches, lace-finished white cambric shirt, neatly powdered hair and with a sword tucked under his arm made his appearance. He saluted the Prince and the company with his blade, and then stood, left hand on hip, right knee slightly bent, sword held in right hand, point to the floor, in the typical graceful waiting attitude of the fencer. 'Saint-Georges! Saint-Georges!' the whisper went round the room. The young man was aware of the admiring interest his appearance caused, but was able to meet it with an indifferent air; for he was well used to admiration, the first swordsman of England, the well-named young Saint-Georges. In the eyes of the women in particular he found favor, and indeed he made a pleasing enough spectacle, lounging there in unembarrassed grace, with his handsome head and his athletic young body in all the supple strength of its twenty-eight years. But where was his opponent? Indeed, where was any opponent worthy of the steel of this glowing young namesake of England's Saint? The audience began to look impatiently towards the door. And then his opponent appeared-- this opponent who should have been a very war-god, to dare to face the fresh young manhood that awaited the combat there under the lights. Walking slowly, apparently with difficulty, there appeared in front of him a little frail old lady in a rusty black satin gown and white lace bonnet. The only touches of color about the whole amazing little person were the vivid blue of two unfaded, arrogant eyes in the white, shriveled face, and the flame color of a bit of ribbon on the black dress, over the left breast. The crowd craned their necks, tittered and whispered, as the old dame saluted the Prince with a plain, unengraved sword, which yet gleamed like fire. 'The Chevalier! Mademoiselle d'Eon! La Chevalière!' ran the whispers, as the quaint figure turned and saluted with shining blade the handsome young figure on the other side of the cleared space. Saint-Georges flushed. It was not of his seeking, this grotesque affair, and it was far from being to his liking. The thing had been forced upon him. One could not run the risk of being suspected of fearing an old lady, could one? Especially as that old lady had some reputation as a swordsman in the past. Doubtless, in the days long before Saint-Georges was born or even dreamed of, when Mademoiselle la Chevalière had been Monsieur le Chevalier d'Eon de Beaumont, her skill with the sword had been passable enough. But now-- bent with rheumatism and age, shrouded and encumbered in flowing draperies, the thing was ridiculous. Saint-Georges was ruffled out of his usual calm, indignant at having been forced to make a show of himself in this fashion. He would not be hard on the absurd old dame, but she must be shown once for all, that her ridiculous pretensions were out of place and fashion. His thoughts were cut short by the sharp command of the official who was to supervise the match; 'On guard, Gentlemen!' There was some tittering at the 'Gentlemen,' quickly stifled by a sharp glance from the Prince. With an elegant flourish of his weapon, Saint-Georges put himself gracefully on guard, and waited courteously for his opponent. The odd person in black satin assumed the same pose, but with some considerable difficulty. Indeed, a young lady confided to a gallant, behind her fan, she had distinctly heard the poor old thing's knees crack. The point of the shining, plain blade in its old-fashioned mounting quivered perceptively as it came forward to meet its opponent. Then, 'Go, Gentlemen!' and the two blades spok
e sharply, each on its own tongue, as they made their first contact. Saint-Georges played negligently, lunging half-heartedly, contenting himself mostly with parrying; indeed, he scarce had need to parry, even; one step back and he was out of reach, those decrepit old legs could never furnish a lunge long enough to carry an attack home. Although really the old lady was stronger than one could have imagined, and her hand seemed now to be as firm as his own. Then an amazing thing happened. The old lady made an attack to the flank, and Saint-Georges lowered his hand to parry in octave. To his utter astonishment, no steel met his own, and in the same second he felt a sharp little blow on the upper arm, left unprotected by his lowered guard. There was no doubt about it. There was his opponent's blade bent into an arc by the vigor of the blow. He was astounded. The trick was simple enough, but had been executed with such a flashing rapidity that he literally had not seen the disengagement. But then in truth, he had scarcely been watching. 'Touché!' he announced loyally. 'How generous! How chivalrous!' murmured the ladies; but some of the men raised their eyebrows.
The adversaries put themselves on guard again, and again the 'Go, Gentlemen!' rang out. Saint-Georges was watching with all his eyes now. The old girl had had a bit of luck, but she would have to be contented with that. And then suddenly he felt that horrible, sharp little blow again; this time in the side. This would never do. He began to fight in earnest now, using every trick he knew, making the utmost of his superiority of reach, and the unhampered stretch of his legs. But again and yet again he felt the irritating taps, light but firm, as an attack reached home. That relentless little old woman before him seemed to have turned into a veritable devil of strength and agility, all steel nerves and iron muscles. Of the wrinkled, wasted face he saw only the fierce blue eyes. Of the ridiculous, almost crippled body he was aware only of a wrist and a hit like a steel spring. The shining blade, its deadly point safely buttoned, sang dizzyingly about his ears. He could neither find it with his own steel nor escape its wasp-like attack. Once a gasp of horror went up as the darting blade suddenly seemed to lengthen itself like a flame, hovered an instant a bare hair's breath before his unprotected eyes; the terrible 'coup de Nevers,' the death-dealing stroke between the eyes. At the last fraction of a second the steel spared his face, lowered and came home on his heart. A roar of applause greeted this tour de force, and cries of 'Bravo! Bravo, Mademoiselle d'Eon!' ran from the audience. The Prince himself was flushed with excitement and clapping vigorously.
Five times, six times, Saint-Georges' astonished lips announced a touch before the Chevalier's own voice rang out, 'Touché, Monsieur, and well done!' At Saint-Georges' eighth announcement, the bout came to an end amid a perfect storm of applause. Saint-Georges bit his lip. He was overwhelmed to accept so unexpected and crushing a defeat with any measure of philosophy. Then a wave of generous admiration welled up in him, and shouldering his way through the crowd that surrounded the victor, he bent and kissed the wrinkled old hand that was all a-tremble again now, and 'My respectful admiration, Madam,' he said. D'Eon pressed the young man's hand. 'Come and see me sometime Monsieur; I will show you a trick or two. You have the makings of a very gallant swordsman.'2
There is no doubt that this duel took place on the given date but to this particular account, there is great doubt as to the details, as they are presented by the author. The most obvious error is that she states that Saint-Georges was 28 years old. According to his date of birth, he was 48 years old, or even if one takes the other date given in memoirs of several of his contemporaries as his birth date, that of 1748, he would have been 39.
It seems that this author wished to present her heroine in the most favorable light, and it seems at the expense of Saint-Georges' reputation as a fencer. I do not wish to be accused of doing the same for the hero of my book, but I cannot accept this account which is contrary to everything that has been written about Saint-Georges.
I have given reports of Saint-Georges' prowess as a fencer from La Boëssière, one of the greatest fencing-masters of the time, and from other duels that he had with such notables as Faldoni, one of the best fencers of that time. It was said that Saint-Georges was "inimitable and invincible" and from all the sources, there was no match for Saint-Georges. Now, this account assumes to reveal that Saint-Georges was not only beaten but completely out-classed and did not even touch this "little frail old lady, walking slowly, apparently with difficulty."
I fear that I may seem less objective but it is difficult for me to believe that an old lady in her sixties, "But now-bent with rheumatism and age, shrouded and encumbered in flowing draperies," could do what younger, and supposedly greater, fencers could not do. The author makes Saint-Georges look even worse by saying that:
The odd person in black satin assumed the same pose, but with some considerable difficulty. Indeed, a young lady confided to a gallant, behind her fan, she had distinctly heard the poor old thing's knees crack.
She also describes La Chevalière in this way.
Of the wrinkled, wasted face he saw only the fierce blue eyes. Of the ridiculous, almost crippled body he was aware only...
Other people who were present at this historical event gave varying reports on the duel. And according to one of these reliable reports, Saint-Georges had been touched twice by Mme d'Eon, that Saint-Georges "unfolded, unraveled, rapid as the wind, and he also struck her."
The roar that he made had made the Prince laugh; the strike also; right in the middle of her chest or breast since we are speaking of Chevalière. Some feared that there would be a second offense, which would have been a little to the right, or a little to the left...but the chevalier was too gallant a man to commit this fault of good taste. The English would have, in the name of propriety, misunderstood that.3
However, Mme d'Eon was awarded the victory.
Robineau, a French artist, executed a painting on this subject, from which a print was published. According to the account given by Marjorie Corny, the elder Angelo was not present and was told of the news later, yet according to the Obituary Notice of the Chevalier D'Eon in "Gent. Mag." June 1810, Angelo was there. This inference supported out in a statement about the painting by Robineau:
The celebrated painter alluded to by the writer was doubtless Robineau, whose picture is the subject of the accompanying illustration. The figure to the left of the Prince's chair observing the match through a spyglass is probably intended for the elder Angelo. Henry Angelo was one of the Chevalier's antagonists on this memorable occasion.4
And from the Chevalier d'Eon de Beaumont by J. B. Telfer, it is stated that Angelo, Senior was present
...we almost lost sight of her (d'Eon) until April 9, 1787, the day appointed for an assault-at-arms in the presence of the Prince of Wales at Carlton House, and to which, as a fencer of distinguished reputation, she was invited. D'Eon and M. Angelo, Senior were nominated by his Royal Highness judges for the occasion...5
Also, from the same book, there is word about the duel.
Mademoiselle d'Eon had modesty enough, on her hitting Monsieur de Saint-Georges, to set it down to his complaisance; but the latter candidly declared that he had done all in his power to ward against it." Angelo's son wrote regarding the portrait that: "I was one of the exhibitors on that day; my father's portrait is in the background."
Finally, Saint-Georges was a gentleman who was known not to have ever taken advantage of anyone. His gentleness and kindness were as well known as his fencing.
Saint George D'Eon Robineau
This "defeat" did not tarnish Saint-Georges' image, it only helped to spread his fame. He was well received in the most aristocratic salons; the people considered him "the most seductive of colored gentlemen." The Prince of Wales was so enthusiastic about Saint-Georges that he wanted to decorate him with the "Ordre du Bain," (Order of the Bath) but Saint-Georges had the modesty to refuse it.
Saint-Georges was received by the English ladies as enthusiastically
and as affectionately as he had been by the women in Paris. Indeed the women were not cold, as people had said; a little prudish, maybe, but certainly not cold. He found that he was accepted, it seemed with a certain peculiarity, as a gentleman but there was no prejudice shown. But why should he be surprised? Didn't he find the same behavior in his beloved Paris?
This brings to mind an incident that occurred in Paris, regarding one of Saint-Georges' amorous adventures. Saint-Georges was the lover of a pretty woman. They were seen together all over Paris and the relationship became quite a big affair. People began talking of marriage although Saint-Georges had not considered it. One day, he was paid a visit by the brother of his sweetheart. The brother spoke to Saint-Georges very firmly saying,
My sister has a weakness for you, I know that's between you two. But as concerns all of my family, there is a rumor going around about a marriage between you. Now, I tell you very clearly that is impossible. We would oppose this by all means and even by violence. I have spoken.6
It becomes easier to see just what Saint-Georges' position really was. The French people, like the English and other people who are prejudiced have their degrees of prejudice. One need only scratch deep enough, and, in this case, Saint-Georges had gone far enough. If this story were true, that would have been the second time that St.- Georges had faced the same threat and rejection. Being the greatest fencer in the world, he could have taken these threats as insults, therefore, an excuse for a dual. But St.- Georges showed time and again that he did not take advantage of his superior skill as a swordsman except in exhibitions, to defend his person and later during the war.
The Black Mozart Page 6
