It has been truly said, that the virtues of the unfortunate Louis XVI. were an anachronism in the dissolute court that surrounded him. The most short-sighted observer could behold the gathering storm, and foresee that a national convulsion was drawing nigh. In taking a retrospective view of the past, no confidence could be placed in the present, and futurity was involved in a fearful gloom. Despotism had been concentrated under the sway of Louis XI. and Louis XIV; but, during the reign of Louis XV, the parliament had recovered the power usurped by his predecessor, who let no opportunity escape of showing for that assembly, his sovereign contempt. A struggle for power now commenced between the parliament, the clergy, and the court; and the people, exhausted by war and taxation, calmly looked on, until they were roused by the contending factions to throw the weight of brute force into the scale of the doubtful preponderance. At this period, pregnant 206 with future events of vital moment, the parliament persecuted the clergy, which in turn opposed their vexations; and both parties set at defiance the authority of the court, which appeared to be sunk into a state of luxurious apathy, and calmly looked on the approaching storm, without having recourse to any prudential measures to meet its impetuosity.
While the country was thus torn by discord, no harmony prevailed in the palace. The monarch had selected a minister who could not agree with his consort, and opposed all his measures, until Turgot succeeded him. Turgot, a virtuous upright man, endeavoured to operate a reform, but all parties who had thriven on corruption soon drove him from the helm of public affairs. Necker sought to pursue the reform that his predecessor had planned, and for a moment seemed to inspire confidence, until the upper classes, uniting their efforts against him, compelled the unwelcome speculator to resign his post; and, finally, the active enterprising Calonne, failed in re-organizing the wreck of the empire.
To use the language of a French writer, “Louis XVI. was not sufficiently understood by the nation, but was too well understood by the court.” Thus he was exposed at the same time to popular prejudices against him and to patrician hostility, and rendered answerable for the errors 207 of his predecessors. An apparent calm reigned in the nation, but it was that gloomy sultry tranquillity that precedes a storm. The mind of every class of the community was too deeply absorbed in reflection to admit of the influence of private differences. The practice of duelling, meanwhile, seemed to be confined to the soldiery. The sword was no longer worn as a mark of distinction in society; and this weapon of a gentleman, which in former times was always at hand, and drawn on the spur of the moment, was now laid aside, and only sought for with premeditation.
This pacific period was of short duration. The pales which had divided society into castes were gradually overthrown, and rank no longer became an excuse for refusing satisfaction to an inferior.
One of the first affairs of honour under this monarch was the celebrated duel that took place between the Comte d’Artois16 and the Prince de Condé. At a ball given at the Opera on Shrove Tuesday in the year 1778, the Comte d’Artois appeared, giving his arm to Madame de Carrillac,—both masked. The Duchesse de Bourbon (Princess of Orleans) recognised them, and followed them, addressing the parties in a sarcastic style, which, although warranted by the usages of a masquerade, were not the less offensive. The hostile feelings of the duchess were 208 attributed to two most powerful motives. Madame de Carrillac had been the mistress of her husband, whom she had quitted for the Comte d’Artois, to whom the duchess herself was not indifferent. Madame de Carrillac, thus annoyed by the duchess, contrived to effect her escape through the crowd; when the duchess with unbridled fury endeavoured to tear off the mask from the count, who, forgetting at the moment his usual gallantry and the privileges of the fair sex, crushed the mask of the duchess on her face, and rushed out of the ball-room.
This adventure was hushed up for a few days, when the duchess stated to her numerous guests at her supper-table that the conduct of the Comte d’Artois had been that of a ruffian, and that she had felt disposed at the time to call in the guard to apprehend him. All the women at court whom the count had slighted, rose up in arms against him, the brutality of his conduct became the subject of conversation in every circle, and the general opinion was, that he could not avail himself of his rank to refuse the satisfaction that such a public insult to a woman demanded. It was of course concluded that it became indispensable on the part of the Duke de Bourbon to call out the offender.
Howbeit, the King ordered the Duke and Duchess de Bourbon to attend him in his closet, where they met the Count d’Artois; when he 209 commanded that no notice should be taken by any of the parties of what had occurred. The duke wished to enter into some explanation, but was instantly silenced by the monarch.
This decision did not satisfy the duchess and the ladies of the court. The Baron de Besenval was sent for by the Queen, who asked him what her brother was to do under existing circumstances: the baron replied that he saw no other alternative than a duel; to which Marie Antoinette replied, “I am of the same opinion, and the King agrees with me; but do you think that my brother will adopt this course?” Besenval replied, “that the count was ignorant of all that was said on the subject; but that he should consider it his duty to make him acquainted with the public opinion, as he would rather see him dead than dishonoured;” adding, “that, as it was an affair of great moment, he would previously consult with De Crussel, captain of the prince’s guards.” “Do so,” replied the Queen, “and settle this affair between you.”
Besenval having met De Crussel at the Comte Jules de Polignac’s, it was decided that a meeting should take place; it being at the same time proposed, that, so soon as swords were drawn and crossed, De Crussel should produce an order from the King to separate the combatants. With this suggestion Besenval would not comply, 210 justly observing, “Pray, gentlemen, are you going to make the prince play in a farce? I never will consent to such an arrangement;” to which De Crussel replied, “that it was quite sufficient for the prince to go to the ground, and that the sovereign had then the right to prevent bloodshed.” This opinion was also that of Polignac and Vaudreuil, who were present.
Besenval lost no time in seeking for the Comte d’Artois, to acquaint him with all that had taken place, when a meeting was decided. The following day the count went to the Bois de Boulogne, attended by De Crussel, who had placed the prince’s best sword in the carriage. Arrived at the wood, they perceived the Duke de Bourbon surrounded with several gentlemen: upon seeing him the count alighted, and stepping towards him said, “I understand, sir, that the public say that we are seeking each other?” to which the duke replied, taking off his hat, “I am here, sir, to receive your commands:” to which polite reply the count answered, “I am here, sir, to fulfil yours.”
After this courteous preamble both parties drew their swords; when the duke observed, “You are not aware, sir, that the sun shines full upon you.” “You are right,” answered the count; “we had better proceed to that wall, where we shall find more shade than under these leafless trees.” 211
The parties then placed their drawn swords under their arms, and proceeded, conversing with each other, to the appointed spot, followed by their two seconds, all other persons keeping at a distance. M. de Vibraye, second of the duke, observing that they had both kept on their spurs, which might prove inconvenient, the seconds immediately proceeded to unbuckle them; and, while so doing, De Vibraye had an eye nearly put out by the point of the duke’s sword. The spurs being off, the duke asked the prince’s permission to take off his coat; to which proposal the Comte d’Artois not only acceded; but threw off his own.
Several lounges had passed between the parties, and D’Artois was evidently becoming impatient and flushed, when the duke was observed to stagger; and the seconds, thinking that he had been wounded, interfered, and begged the parties to suspend all further hostility. The count replied, “It is not for me to offer any opinion; it is for M. le Duc de Bourbon to express his wishes, I am here at his orders.” The duke immediately lowered his sword, and replied, “I feel penetrated with gratitude at your kindness, and shall never forget the honour that you have conferred on me.” The Comte d’Artois then opened his arms, and the duke flew into his embrace.
After this harmless meeting, at the suggestion 212 of the Queen and the Baron de Besenval, the count repaired to the Palais Bourbon, and made an ample apology to the insulted duchess. The punishment awarded to the combatants was an exile of a week; the count at Choisy, and the duke at Chantilly. Thus ended this celebrated duel, which has been much misrepresented by different writers, influenced by party spirit. There is no doubt that, in the whole transaction, the Comte d’Artois behaved with becoming firmness and gentlemanly feeling: and there is not the least foundation for the story of a bloodless meeting having been pre-arranged, although it is not improbable that the Duke de Bourbon was satisfied in defending himself, without a wish of injuring his antagonist; which was the more easy, as he remained cool, while the count was evidently excited.
This transaction affords a vivid picture of the corruption and manners of the times. A woman of the highest rank insults another woman who had been her husband’s mistress; not on that account, but for having become the mistress of another man, to whom she herself was attached: and the foolish husband is made to peril life and liberty by fighting the real object of the dispute, who had so far lost sight of all gentlemanly deportment as to insult a female by actually inflicting a blow!
The Prince de Condé, father of this Duke de 213 Bourbon, had also had a hostile meeting with the Vicomte d’Agout, a captain in the Guards. This officer had been paying court to a young widow of the household of the Princess de Condé, and had promised to marry her: having, however, discovered that she had bestowed her favours on the prince, he bitterly reproached her with her duplicity, and retracted his engagement. The lady complained to her protector, who directed that D’Agout should resign his situation of captain in his Guards. That officer immediately tendered his resignation into the prince’s hands, and at the same time requested to know what part of his conduct had exposed him to disgrace. To this request the prince replied, “that he would not keep in his service liars and calumniators:” to this severe observation D’Agout answered, “Your highness is aware that, when I took the liberty of putting this question, I was no longer in your highness’s service, and will be pleased also to recollect that I am a gentleman.” “I understand you, sir,” replied the prince; “and am ready to maintain what I have asserted, in whatever manner you may think proper.”
“Then,” replied D’Agout, “I depend upon your highness’s kindness;” and he lost no time in repairing to Versailles to secure some protection in the event of a fatal result. Having succeeded, he presented himself at the carriage-window 214 of the prince, who was changing horses at Sèvres, and said to him, “My lord, I came to receive your highness’s orders.” “Then, sir,” answered the prince, “at nine o’clock to-morrow morning I shall be at the entrance of the Bois de Boulogne, near the Maillot gate.”
D’Agout, as might be expected, was punctual in his attendance, accompanied by his brother. The prince soon after made his appearance, and first placed in the hands of his adversary a declaration of his having been the aggressor, with letters of recommendation to foreign powers for protection, in the event of a fatal issue of the meeting, which might render his quitting the kingdom advisable.
D’Agout, having returned his grateful thanks for this courteous proceeding, then threw off his coat; on which the prince observed, “No doubt, sir, by taking off your coat, you expect that I should do the same.” To which D’Agout replied, “I have no right to demand anything from your highness, as I trust implicitly in your honour, and was only anxious to afford your highness a proof of mine.”
The prince immediately took off his coat, and swords were soon crossed. The offended captain fought with that desperate determination which his critical position inspired, and the prince was slightly wounded; when the seconds interfered, and parted the combatants. A short 215 time after this meeting, D’Agout was promoted by the prince to the rank of major in the Guards. The King, on this occasion, scarcely knew how to act: but the people viewed the duel, between a prince of the blood and an individual of an humble rank, as a sign of the times, and the sacrifice of olden prejudices to the novel innovations in manners that gradually appeared to level all distinctions; while the chivalric portion of the nation compared the Prince de Condé to Francis I.
It was during this reign, and the latter part of the preceding one, that the singular personage, Le Chevalier d’Eon, made his appearance. He was born at Tonnerre in 1728; and had been successively a lawyer, a censor, a political writer, a captain of dragoons, a diplomatist, and a fencing-master. It was under the cloak of the last profession, when giving lessons of fencing to the Grand Duke of Russia, that he was entrusted with a secret and delicate mission; which he fulfilled with so much success, that he obtained the title of secretary of embassy, the rank of captain, and the cross of St. Louis. He was subsequently sent to England as minister plenipotentiary, to ratify the treaty of 1763.
This D’Eon was most expert in all deeds of arms, and had fought several duels, in which he always came off successfully. When attached to the French legation in London, he thought 216 proper to give his ambassador, the Count de Guerchy, a slap in the face; and, on complaint being made to the cabinet of Versailles of this desperate conduct, it was decided that he should be seized, and carried over to France. D’Eon, however, being apprised of this project, sought refuge in the city; where he was taken up for a breach of the peace, having fought with another Frenchman of the name of Vergy, in the open street and at noon-day.
The circumstance which gave rise to the report that he was a woman, was singular; and originated from a thrust he received in the breast from a foil while fencing: a mammary tumour arose, which required extirpation, and it was immediately reported that D’Eon was a female in disguise. This report gained credence from his affected indifference in removing the erroneous impression, and his repeated refusal to give a satisfactory reply to questions put to him on this doubtful subject.
Various are the reported motives of his subsequent assumption of female sex and attire. By some it was attributed to an order from the Duc d’Aiguillon, minister of foreign affairs, prohibiting his appearance in France except in a female dress; while D’Eon pretended that he had assumed this costume to preserve the honour of De Guerchy, whose face he had slapped. Others asserted that he wore this disguise to enable 217 the cabinet of Versailles to throw the blame attached to the treaty of 1763 on a woman. Howbeit, he only made his appearance in France after the deaths both of D’Aiguillon and Guerchy; and on his return to Paris presented a memorial to Maurepas the then minister, praying that the order which enjoined him to wear female attire might be revoked, and the following was the strange tenor of this application:
“I am under the necessity of humbly submitting to your lordship that the period of my female noviciate is expired, and that it is impossible that I should become as professed. I have been able, in obedience to the orders of the late King and his ministers, to remain in petticoats during peace; but that is quite out of the question in time of war. It is necessary for the honour of the illustrious house of De Guerchy that I should be allowed to continue my military services; such, at least, is the opinion of the whole army and the world. I have always thought and acted like Achilles; I never wage war with the dead, and I only kill the living when they attack me.”
The Count de Guerchy, whom he had mortally insulted, was dead; but his only son was living, and anxious to wipe off in D’Eon’s blood the unavenged insult offered to his family; when the countess his mother, justly apprehensive of the issue of a meeting between the young count 218 and the most experienced swordsman in the country, supplicated the minister to exert his influence and reject the application of the dubious D’Eon. The injunction to wear a female garb was renewed; and the pension of five hundred pounds per annum, granted to him by Louis XV, was continued on this condition. This strange position exposed our disguised hero to many curious scenes and insults; and, having one day involved himself in a serious quarrel at the play-house, he was sent a close prisoner to the citadel of Dijon.
At the revolution of 1789 D’Eon returned to England, where he gave lessons in the sword exercise; and on several occasions fenced in public, and not unfrequently with the Prince of Wales. This extraordinary person died in London in 1810, at the advanced age of seventy-nine; when the celebrated medical friar and favourite of Carlton House, Père Elysée, after a post-mortem examination, put the mooted question beyond further doubt by the official assertion of the manhood of the defunct.
The rival of the Chevalier d’Eon, both in swordsmanship and fashionable popularity, was the Chevalier St. George, a man of colour, son of M. de Boulogne, a receiver-general of Guadaloupe, and a negress; and who at an early age was placed in the hands of La Boissière, the celebrated fencing-master. His skill 219 in arms and his numerous duels rendered him such a favourite amongst the ladies, that his dark complexion and woolly head were forgotten. He was soon appointed equerry to Madame de Montesson, whom the Duke of Orleans had privately married; and then captain in the guards of his son, the Duke de Chartres. In 1776 he was anxious to become manager of the Opera; but the actresses and dancers, headed by Mesdemoiselles Arnould, Guimart, and Rosalie, supplicated the Queen not to degrade the dignity of the Royal Academy of Music by placing it under the direction of a mulatto. The Queen yielded to their supplication; and St. George felt so much offended at this interference, that it was to a vindictive feeling against that unfortunate princess that his exertions in the revolution against the royal family were attributed. He was foremost in the popular meetings of that period, and was sent to the emigrants at Tournai on a secret mission by the Duke d’Orleans; a service of considerable danger, and one in which he would have forfeited his life but for the governor of the town, who enabled him to effect his escape. After this he raised a regiment of light cavalry, which he commanded under Dumouriez, whom he afterwards denounced to the Convention. Notwithstanding his jacobinical exertions, he would have been sacrificed in his turn, but for the 9th Thermidor, which liberated him 220 from prison. St. George died in a state of poverty in 1799, at the age of fifty-four. He was justly considered the first swordsman and the best shot of his time. One of his feats was throwing up two crown-pieces in the air, and hitting them both with his pistols. He was an excellent musician, amiable and polished in his manners, and of a most agreeable conversation; his humanity and charitable disposition were universally acknowledged; and, although engaged in many duels, he had generally been the insulted party, and was never known to avail himself of his reputation to insult any one less skilled in the science of destruction. He was often known, however, to give a salutary lesson to quarrelsome and troublesome young men; and an instance is recorded of his meeting at Dunkirk in the company of several ladies a young officer of hussars, who, not knowing him, was boasting of his skill as a swordsman, and asserting that no fencer in France was a match for him. “Did you ever meet the famous St. George?” asked one of the ladies. “St. George! many a time; he could not stand a moment before me!” answered the hussar, twirling his mustachios. “That is strange,” observed St. George, “and I should much like to have a trial of skill with you, young man. Possibly the ladies could procure us foils, and an assaut d’armes might entertain them.” The 221 young officer assented to the proposal with a smile of contempt............