Revival of gambling policies on D’Eon’s sex—Renewed protests—Admits being a female to the Count de Broglio—Beaumarchais a hard master—He demands final instructions from the King—Differences of opinion and angry interchange of letters.
D’Eon’s burning desire to see his beloved France was at length about to be gratified, and as these fresh news got bruited about, the press announced that the Chevalier had been recalled, it being the King’s intention to load him (or her) with honours, and that the heroine would be shortly leaving for her native land, where the French Court was impatient to see her. Such rumours only served to revive all the old squabbles over the policies on his sex, and bets ran seven to four that D’Eon was a woman and not a man,[309] which, though fairly heavy odds, showed that there still existed a pretty strong feeling in favour of his being a man rather than a woman. He again became the subject of numerous objectionable proposals, advances he repelled with infinite disgust, and which he did his best to discountenance and discourage by a protest to which he gave the greatest possible publicity.
‘The Chevalier D’Eon desires, with most earnest entreaty, the people of England, who hitherto have testified their benevolence towards him, and have taken so great a part in his misfortunes, not to renew any policies on his sex, since the desire to discountenance those that were made in 1771 has been the principal cause of his remaining four years longer in England than intended. He is convinced that there are amongst the great in France some that abuse the perfect knowledge they have of his sex, so as to engage certain bankers in Paris to correspond with certain bankers in London. Some of those great men have a design, perhaps, to hurt his peace by what remains of their impotent revenge, and think the people of England would thereby become accomplices in their malice. The Chevalier D’Eon cannot believe it, but, whatever are the grounds for fresh reports, the Chevalier D’Eon publicly declares, as in justice he ought, that he has recently refused great sums of money which have been offered to him to be concerned in such policies; offers that he could never hear of but with the most sovereign contempt. He declares that he will never manifest his sex till such time as all policies shall be at an end. If that is impossible, the Chevalier D’Eon will be forced to quit secretly a country which he deems second to his own, as it has proved a bulwark against the persecution of his malicious enemies; and this act would be so much the more painful, as his Sovereign (who is as equitable as he is benevolent) has just rendered to him a most signal act of justice, which will soon be made public, as will his condition and extraordinary situation with respect to the late King, a situation unknown to this day to all the ministers and ambassadors, and to the public. If after a desire and declaration so formal, that same public will continue to deceive itself, they are entirely at liberty to do as they please.[310]
‘The Chevalier D’Eon.’
‘London, November 11, 1775,
‘32 Brewer Street, Golden Square.’
In less than a month after the appearance of this address, by which it might be inferred that if D’Eon was anything at all he was more probably a man than a woman, his old chief and firmest of friends, the Count de Broglio, received his humble confession that he was not a man but a woman—a confession that could only have been to one of the count’s discernment and sensibility but transparent veneer over the sarcasm the letter was intended to convey.
‘It is time to undeceive you. For a captain of dragoons, and aide-de-camp in war and politics, you have had but the semblance of a man. I am only a maiden who would have perfectly well sustained my part until death, had not politics and your enemies rendered me the most unfortunate of women.... You will admit, by the facility with which I separate myself from the world, that I remained in it for your sake only; and since I can no longer work or fight under your orders and under those of the marshal, your brother, I will renounce without any pain this deceitful world, which, however, has never deluded me, except in my youth so sorrowfully spent. I no longer believe it possible to die of grief, since I have the strength to endure so much. I know not how long I shall be able to sustain this cruel shock, as I have been confined to my bed through illness for the last twelvemonth.
‘I am respectfully, Monsieur le Comte, your most humble and most obedient servant (serviteur),
‘Geneviève-Louise-Auguste D’eon de Beaumont.’
‘London, December 5, 1775.’
‘P.S.—You seemed to be astonished, Monsieur le Comte, at M. de Beaumarchais having meddled in my affairs; but you will cease to be so when you know that this has been the will of the King and of the Count de Vergennes, and that I had been enjoined not to write to anybody upon the arrangement of my affairs until all was settled. Everything soon will be, and very differently to the extraordinary propositions made by the Marquis de Prunevaux.’[311]
This was the last letter of any consequence addressed by D’Eon to the Count de Broglio,[312] who gave little encouragement to his correspondent of many years’ standing, if we except one written in 1778, and which will be touched upon in its proper place.
Facsimile of an autograph title-page in the Christie collection of D’Eon M.S.S.
Although the Covenant between Beaumarchais and D’Eon had been formally signed, there still remained certain conditional clauses to be ratified. Beaumarchais informed the Count de Vergennes that he had assured the lady with whom he was in treaty, that if she were wise, discreet, silent, and well conducted, he should give so good an account of her to the King’s minister, and even to his Majesty himself, as to lead to the hope that he should succeed in obtaining for her other benefits. He did not hesitate to hold out such a promise, having a balance on hand of 41,000 livres tournois, with which he purposed rewarding each submission she made, by supposed concessions on the part of the King and of his minister; only, however, as favours that were being granted, and not in satisfaction of any claim. It was by such artifice only that he could expect to prevail, and subdue the unruly and crafty creature. The triumph of Beaumarchais was complete, for D’Eon, even in spite of himself, was effectively within his grip; and he who had spent a lifetime in the direction of affairs, and whose ambition and restlessness would never brook interposition, became at length persuaded that his only chance in life—and yet at what a fearful sacrifice—lay in meekly submitting to the only man who had ever succeeded, being favoured by the most exceptional circumstances, in daunting his rebellious spirit.
Beaumarchais again left London, taking with him upon this occasion his prize, the iron safe, which he delivered into the custody of de Vergennes, tendering at the same time to that minister a series of questions for the consideration of the King, who was entreated to insert replies in his own hand, that he might be armed with further incontestable authority for bringing his transactions with D’Eon to a speedy termination. The text of the original, which is preserved, was written by Beaumarchais himself and bears his signature, ‘the replies to each question, on the margin, being in a small, tremulous, and undecided hand, in which the letters t and v are scarcely indicated—it is the writing of the good, weak, and unhappy monarch....’
There were other questions to which Beaumarchais sought for answer, but as they are in connection with his enterprises in the American cause, and entirely irrelevant to our story, we pass them over.
‘Essential points which I entreat the Count de Vergennes to submit for the decision of the King, previous to my departure for London, this 13th day of December, 1775. The replies to be inserted in the margin:—
In countersigning this document, de Vergennes added: ‘The marginal replies are in the King’s own hand,’ and Beaumarchais was granted a certificate to the effect that ‘the King was entirely satisfied with the zeal he had exhibited on this occasion, and with the intelligence and skill displayed in accomplishing the mission entrusted to him.’[313] With these precious papers Beaumarchais took flight for the English capital, where he arrived on December 29.
D’Eon’s action in rushing into print during the absence of Beaumarchais, was scarcely in accordance with the stipulations of the latter that she should preserve a discreet and silent demeanour, and he told her so. In justification, D’Eon said he should never have thought of having recourse to the press had not several persons, he knew well, been at some pains to revive the policies on his sex. Leaving his chair abruptly, and putting on his hat in a passion, Beaumarchais qualified the notice she had inserted in the ‘Morning Post’ as a badly-worded, stupid, senseless, and impertinent production from beginning to end—to which sentiment D’Eon responded by also rising and putting on his hat, and terminating the interview by saying that the negotiations and such negotiators as he was, might go to the d——l! The next morning he hired a post-chaise, and leaving Beaumarchais to his own devices, went to Lord Ferrers’ seat in Leicestershire, where we shall find him for the next two months.
D’Eon had hardly left the room than Beaumarchais felt that he had gone too far, and hastened to make some friendly advances. He was greatly affected, he wrote, at the exhibition of feminine choler on her part, and at the masculine terms of the compliment she had paid him. He reminded her that she had always found him agreeable and cheerful, straightforward and liberal in his dealings—and having said so much by way of apology, he awaited with curiosity any explanations she might have to offer. None came, and at the expiration of another week Beaumarchais again wrote, to say that in whatever part of England she might be, she had had ample time to answer his letter, and since she had not done so, he concluded they were in future to consider themselves strangers to each other. He was too gallant to differ with her on such a point! But she should not fail to remember how greatly she was indebted to him for the many favours the King had granted, and she was to beware lest she conducted herself with ingratitude towards the King, as she had done towards himself. To Lord Ferrers he also wrote, requesting his lordship to supply him with a receipt in full for the money he had paid him,[314] a request, he said, he had intended to prefer through M. D’Eon, but who suddenly disappeared out of his sight without leaving word as to whither she had gone—and this, simply because he had reproved her, as a matter of necessity, for certain indiscretions committed during his, Beaumarchais’, absence.
Lord Ferrers replied—and we would draw attention, for future reference, to that part of his letter we have italicised:—
‘I can only say that M. D’Eon arrived at Staunton on the 2nd, feeling very unwell, and he is so still.... I do not find that he has behaved ungratefully towards you, but I find that he has not sufficient money to pay what he owes me. He has told me of some differences of opinion with you in regard to an article that has appeared in the papers, on the policies made as to his sex, which, I hope, will not lead to any rupture between you.’
The surrender of the precious deposit which had constituted his strength over the space of many years, and emboldened him in his seeming insubordination and fearless demeanour towards the ministers of France, had brought the affairs of D’Eon to a crisis, where the making or unmaking of him for the remainder of his days depended almost entirely upon submission to the man into whose hands was committed his destiny, and in whom he himself pretended to confide. The Chevalier’s meekness whilst settling terms with Beaumarchais was, it might be supposed, an exemplification of the moral derived from La Fontaine’s fable—
But D’Eon’s submission was a sham, for his mind was racked with positive pain—suffering which grew in intensity the more completely he realised the wretchedness of his situation. He had allowed himself to be persuaded to admit that he belonged to the female sex, and to pledge himself to the assumption, for life, of female attire; irrevocable facts, under pain of forfeiting the only means of existence left to him! Yet there remained matters touching his honour in which he knew he should never be able to vindicate himself, from the moment it became publicly established that the Chevalier D’Eon was no longer a man; because it would be impossible for him, being a woman, to take the law into his own hands as was his wont in certain cases. Whether he were a male or a female, the King cared little enough, but the Chevalier was to be put into petticoats by his orders, that the scandal in which a late French ambassador in London had figured so objectionably, should never by any possibility be revived. Beaumarchais had stated what was perfectly true—D’Eon’s blood boiled at the bare mention of the name of Guerchy—while the vehement longing of the young count to avenge his father had never been gratified, and his tongue had not ceased openly to slander the enemy he would chastise. D’Eon had so far failed also in disabusing the public mind generally of the imputation of his being concerned in the gambling policies on his sex, and had not succeeded in lifting himself above the cloud that tarnished his reputation and saddened his days. Moreover, in charging him with having failed to render certain papers which were found to be missing, upon the verification of the inventories at Versailles, Beaumarchais had exercised his authority oppressively and offensively. D’Eon would have called him to account for this, after an unmistakably manly fashion—but he bethought himself, as being more to his advantage, of allowing that he still held some of the secret correspondence,[315] hoping against hope that he might yet prevail upon the pitiless King’s agent to yield to other demands, for which he thought he had a right to press. Nevertheless, he did inflict upon him a gentle kind of punishment in the shape of a sorrowful despatch, consisting of no less than thirty-eight pages—the first of a series that was maintained well into the year 1778.
‘Staunton Harold, Leicestershire, January 7, 1776.
‘... You will allow me to tell you that the tone of despotism you have assumed since we signed our preliminary contract, and since your return from Paris, is exceedingly revolting to me, and causes you to be as intractable as was Mr. Pitt in 1761, during the negotiations for peace.... You know how sensitive I am, and you are losing your time and your pains in seeking to alter my views on a matter that solely concerns my scruples on personal honour. I am determined that upon no account, and not for any money in the world, shall it be possible for people to believe I am interested in the infamous policies on my sex.... I cannot depart from the principles of honour I have traced out for myself, and of which I told you before you left for Paris.... It is possible that the wits and financiers of Paris ridicule my article in the “Morning Post” of November 13, and that they think my peculiar situation affords them the opportunity for robbing the English. I will never consent to anything of the sort, even should all France blame me.... I prefer being taken for a stupid and senseless creature, rather than for a thief and knave.... If what I say is right, I am justified; if not, my error must be my excuse.... I am staying with Lord Ferrers, who has invited me for a month past to come here and recruit ... but I have also several affairs to settle with his lordship.... I purpose taking advantage of my being in the country to lay open to you my heart, and address you with all the sensitiveness of Mademoiselle de Beaumont, and the frankness of the Chevalier D’Eon. I will begin by making some observations on the contents of your letter ...;’ and here the Chevalière plied with the essence of flattery the man she had already so successfully cajoled. ‘I can truly swear that in the whole course of my life I have never come across a more cheerful, better informed, and more agreeable man in society than M. de Beaumarchais. As to your generosity in matters of business, if by this you mean the favourable reports you were good enough to make of me to the young monarch and to his worthy minister; if you allude to the lofty, energetic, pleasing, striking, and creditable composition of our preliminary agreement of October 5, I admit with pleasure, although with the pain, the shame, and the tears that the avowal and admission of my own weakness have wrung from me, that you alone were capable of producing such a document ... but if you mean generosity in money matters, as the term you employ would seem to imply, I confess to you my dear, my very dear Beaumarchais, that with the exception of the Duke de Praslin and his friend the late Count de Guerchy, I have never found any person more tenacious of money than yourself.... You will no doubt say that you have had the generosity to promise in the King’s name, but on your own responsibility, the sum of 2,000 crowns, equal to 250 guineas, for my female outfit, and you thereby give yourself credit for extraordinary generosity! My reply is—It is not I who have sought this metamorphosis; it was the late King and the Duke d’Aiguillon, it is the young King and the Count de Vergennes, it is you yourself in virtue of your powers, it is the family of Guerchy which trembles at all that remains to me from my baptism—the title of man, &c. &c. Let the diplomatic appointment from which I was unjustly removed before the eyes of all Europe be restored to me; let me follow my military career; I ask for nothing else, and shall be content. I shall feel in greater safety clad as a dragoon, than in petticoats, for I should not be subjected to that kind of conversation to which women are generally entertained.... This malady is not of my making, and my past life bears witness that I am more worthy of wearing a helmet than a cap, and of dying on the field of battle than on a feather-bed in a nunnery. It appears that fate is continually making sport of me, and my resignation to its cruel decrees, more grievous to me than death itself, is the most complete proof of my devotion and entire obedience to the orders of the King.... I hope that so just a King will give heed to me in so extraordinary a case.... I cannot forgive the generous Beaumarchais, who knows that I have often despised my sex, fortune, and death in the pursuit of glory; no, I cannot forgive the generous Beaumarchais, who knows how I have, upon six occasions, flown from one end of the world to the other, travelling night and day to hasten, in 1755 and 1756, the reunion of France and Russia, and arrange for the marching of one hundred thousand Muscovites against the common enemy; and that by secret orders from my master, unknown to the great Choiseul, I caused the last war to be prolonged by three years, and that I then toiled, day and night, towards the conclusion of peace.... Alas! had it not been for the insurmountable timidity of my late good master, Louis XV., so fatal to my welfare, which kept him from openly avowing me, whilst ever supporting me in secret ... he would have given me two or three times the amount, for the outfit of a female such as I am, with whose history he had been acquainted from his accession to the throne; a maiden whose conduct has been irreproachable at all times and in all places, in town or country, in the north or in the south, on the field or in the cabinet of princes, of ministers, and of ambassadors; a maiden who never tickled the ears of her King but with her pen, or his enemies but with her sword!... I think that this good King would have been a hundred times more liberal than the generous Beaumarchais, towards a person who has been girl, man, woman, soldier, diplomatist, secretary, minister, author—according to the exigencies of the public or secret service of his master.... If through pure obedience to the orders of the King, I condemn myself to life in a cloister with companions in adversity, I too clearly foresee that I am likely to repent and be unhappy; but it is apparently the will of Providence, and I am left without means of escape!’
After charging Beaumarchais with failing to carry out Article IV. of their Covenant, inasmuch as a portion only of her debts had been paid and not the whole, the Chevalière points out that for the purpose of legalising the document to which they had affixed their signatures, it was essential that the sentence of outlawry passed upon herself, in default, for the publication of the volume entitled ‘Lettres, Mémoires,’ &c., should be rescinded, and that Beaumarchais should be relieved from the ban of censure pronounced by the Parliament of Paris, the deprivation of civil rights under which they were suffering rendering null and void any and all their acts.
‘I have but one other request to make,’ she continued; ‘I beg that the son of the Count de Guerchy will explain himself clearly and honestly, through you, as I am about to do. I am aware that, accompanied by his mother and by the Duke de Nivernois, he called on the Counts de Maurepas and de Vergennes, to give those ministers to understand that he felt bound in honour to fight me; that those two ministers were good enough to tranquillise Madame de Guerchy by saying that they believed her son to be too just and honourable a man to draw his sword upon a woman, whereupon she withdrew expressing her thanks and greatly comforted. I now wish to give you my true and unchangeable opinion on this matter. I have always respected the birth, the qualities, and the virtues of the Countess de Guerchy. Her son was so young at the time of my differences with his father, that, far from wishing to hurt that dear and only son, I should save his life were it in danger, and in my power to do so. I will never think of attacking him, but I will defend myself at any moment that he may be the aggressor. Nothing can be more just or natural than that the son should take to heart the defence of his father; therefore, that he may feel perfectly easy—should he think that he is in honour bound to vindicate the wickedness and the crimes of the late Count de Guerchy, by resorting to arms, I give him my word of honour that I shall have the pleasure of fighting him whenever he pleases, provided he comes to England, the theatre of the scenes of horror acted to my prejudice, and the best field in Europe for such a proceeding, for you must perfectly well understand that to meet in France, or elsewhere than in my island, would be a delusion and a snare.... I further give him my word of honour not to lay aside my uniform, and will never, from lack of courage, look for protection in the dress of my sex.... I await, through you, a categorical answer, from him, upon a matter of such importance to myself. Through life I have been as touchy on the subject of military honour, as should be a maiden on her chastity....’
Referring to the intemperate language Beaumarchais had employed with regard to the notice in the daily papers:—
‘Nobody has ever dared to speak to me in such terms. I hope it will be the last time, unless you are inclined to fight me before young de Guerchy makes his appearance....’ Then warming up amorously—‘it would be a fearful blow to my feelings to have to fight the one I love best, to confront him who calls himself my deliverer, and this deliverer would never think of fighting his little dragonne, however redoubtable she may be in her uniform.... I repeat to you what Rosina is made to say in your “Barber of Seville”—“You are made to be loved....” Such contrasts in an irritable disposition, which, in spite of me, exists in me and is precisely that of my mother and sister, will no doubt provide material to such a philosopher as yourself, for a thousand reflections on the unintelligible character of women. Attribute everything to our hysterics and weaknesses. Quid levius fumo? Flamen. Quid flamine? Ventus. Quid vento? Mulier. Quid muliere? Nihil....’
Beaumarchais reminded Mademoiselle D’Eon, in his reply to this interminable composition so full of recriminations, of his ceaseless efforts in her behalf to obtain advantageous concessions from the King—he called her to a sense of her duty, and allowed her eight days to express her regret at what she had written. He bitterly reproached her for allowing that she had not given up the whole of the King’s papers, since she had signed a declaration to that effect. Confiding in her good faith, which, however, had proved bad, he had given the deed for a life-annuity of 12,000 livres, paid 128,000 livres in liquidation of her debts, and supplied her with the safe-conduct....
‘Far from placing to the King’s account the 120,000 livres I have so foolishly handed over, I must acknowledge my culpable excess of confidence, and as a matter of course reimburse his Majesty, unless I avail myself of your situation. This I shall be able to do by means of the very service I have rendered to you, in causing a precarious pension to be converted into a bond that is now absolutely your private property. This beneficial change having freed you from dependence on ministers, places you, as are all investors in this kingdom, in dependence on the law and its tribunals. I shall forbid the payment of dividends, and with your notes and Lord Ferrers’ receipt in hand, shall enter an action against you and claim the repayment of 120,000 livres disbursed on your account—this, or the entire observance of the terms of our Covenant. You will thus learn, to your cost, whether my acts are of weight in France....’
Again a few passages from D’Eon’s lengthy rejoinders, also dated at Staunton Harold, and we close, for a time at least, the ill-humoured correspondence of two royal secret agents, who were simply practising towards each other ruse contre ruse.
‘... I offer no reply to your reproaches nor to your misplaced invectives. I consider them to be the effects of bad humour on the part of the cleverest and most agreeable ape I have ever met in my life.... I have already had the honour to inform you, that so long as Art. IV. of our Covenant, which distinctly states that you are to supply me with larger sums for the liquidation of my debts, is not executed, I do not feel bound to observe any of the terms in the transaction. You are the contracting power, I am the executrix; it is therefore for you to act and for me to execute.... Your reproaches on the incomplete delivery of papers are badly founded; in the first place, because neither you, nor any ministers—past, present, or future—nor the Prince de Conti, not even the Count de Broglio, can be aware of all that passed in 1755 and 1756, of a secret nature, between the late King, the Empress Elizabeth and the Grand Chancellor of Russia, Count Woronzoff. M. Tercier, the Chevalier Douglas and I were alone engaged in this important secret negotiation, of which M. Rouillé, at that time Minister for Foreign Affairs, had not the slightest cognisance. It was only in 1757 that the Count de Broglio was partly admitted into the secret, and that he, by order of the King, associated me in his own secret correspondence.... I have not deceived you, because with twenty letters I have warned the Count de Broglio, the minister at Versailles and you as well, that so long as the sum to which I lay legitimate claim is not paid, I shall never make a complete surrender of my papers.... When you will have aged and become grey by long service in the army and diplomacy, you will have learnt that where a third-class power treats for peace with a first-class power, the third-class power always secures the guarantee of two second-class powers for the observance of the conditions.... Now, since I consider my power to be the weakest, and least important on earth, as compared to that with which I have the honour to treat, and that I am unable to secure the guarantee of any power, great or small, I entrust myself to my own prudence and experience. Consult all good diplomatists at Versailles or elsewhere in Europe, to find out whether I am in the wrong and as silly as you take me to be.... Should his Majesty and his ministers persist in the consummation of our Covenant, I will fulfil my part from a sense of obedience, but you are equally bound to concede to me my just demands....[316]
‘Le Chevalier et Chevalière D’Eon.’
The astute and yet outwitted Beaumarchais had become thoroughly persuaded that not only was the Chevalier a female, but also one of the most unmanageable of her sex. For her own part, D’Eon was now as thoroughly convinced that the end of Beaumarchais’ mission would be the consummation of all her hopes, all her desires. She still needed a good sum of money for satisfying her creditors, and yet, what prospect had she of obtaining it from one whose harshness as taskmaster was only to be equalled by his exceeding great parsimony as purse-bearer! However stern and unflinching, Beaumarchais had seldom behaved otherwise than with consideration towards the distinguished heroine with whom he had undertaken to treat, whose past services and misfortunes had awakened in him a feeling of something more than ordinary interest, and which, through vanity, he had not the sense to dissemble. Keenly alive to all this, D’Eon was resolved to profit by the favourable impression she had made, therefore, changing her tone from bluster to gentleness, she coyly approached Beaumarchais:—
‘... I own that a woman sometimes finds herself in such an unfortunate position, that the force of circumstances obliges her to avail herself of services of which she is the first to feel the absurdity, because she knows what prompts the offer of them. The more clever and attentive the man who wishes to serve her, the greater her danger. But what thoughts do not these recollections awaken? They remind me that through blind confidence in you and in your promises, I revealed to you the mystery of my sex, that in token of gratitude I gave you my portrait, and that you promised yours as a mark of your regard. There never has been any other engagement between us. All you have alleged in addition, on the subject of our approaching marriage as related to me from Paris, cannot be considered by me otherwise than as idle jesting on your part. If you thought I was in earnest in offering a token of remembrance and gratitude, your conduct is pitiful; it is contemptible and faithless, such as no Parisian would forgive, however accustomed she might be to the ways now in fashion amongst husbands; how much less a maiden with so strict a sense of virtue as is mine, and whose spirit is haughty when her integrity and tender-heartedness is assailed. Why did I not remember that men are only fit to deceive womankind!... So far, I only thought of doing justice to your merits, admiring your talents and your generosity; I no doubt already loved you—but the feeling was so novel to me, and I was a long way from believing that love could be begotten in the midst of distress and pain....’
Beaumarchais had married three wives—and lost them, and was evidently a man who sought after feminine sympathy, a craving that became manifest to D’Eon, who deemed it worth her while to gratify it—and she succeeded.
‘Everybody tells me,’ he wrote to Vergennes, ‘that this insane woman is in love with me. She fancies that I have slighted her, and women never forgive an offence of that sort. I am far from slighting her, but who the d——l would ever have supposed that for the sake of serving my King zealously I should have to become the gallant knight of a captain of dragoons? The case is so ridiculous that I find it very difficult to write seriously.’[317]
That marriage was contemplated became a common topic in Paris, and while none believed, few were prepared to doubt, or treat such gossip with contempt. We are able to quote from two letters in which the subject is mentioned by the writers, who had known D’Eon intimately during many years.
‘Two pieces of news to communicate, my dear Chevalier! The first is, that I have become a widow; the second, it is reported in Paris, and word has been written to me from London, that you wish Constance (her daughter) to be one also, you being about to marry Caron de Beaumarchais. Really, this sort of thing is never done....’[318]
And her landlord, Mr. Lautem, in whose house she had lived almost unintermittingly since the autumn of 1763, says to her:—
‘... Every letter from Paris gives us to understand that M. Beaumarchais is come to London to be married to you. My reply is that I do not consider him sufficiently handsome (beau). M. de Morande told me this morning that M. de Beaumarchais was about leaving, and would not be here upon your return. I told him I had not heard from you....’[319]
So long as Beaumarchais abstained from advancing the ‘other large sums’ promised in Article IV. of the Covenant, so long did the Chevalière refuse to carry out her engagement to discard her uniform for female attire; a refusal adopted by the King’s envoy as his motive for forbearing from taking any further interest in his refractory client. Loménie argues that it was precisely because she could not be prevailed upon to clothe herself in the garments of her sex, that no money was forthcoming; but it may fairly be contended, upon D’Eon’s argument, that Beaumarchais being the contracting power, were he to prove true to his obligations, she, as executrix, would necessarily be obliged to observe her engagements under pain of being deprived of the enjoyment of her annuity. It is not easy to account for the meanness and want of generosity displayed by Beaumarchais in his dealings with the Chevalière, his penuriousness leading him even to neglect the bonds he had given to Lord Ferrers, and upon the faith of which he was allowed to have the iron safe.
Baser conduct in Beaumarchais was his participation in the interminable and ever-increasing sex policies, the Chevalière entreating him, over and over, to abstain from mixing himself up in affairs that sorely afflicted her. Thoroughly persuaded that D’Eon was of the female sex, Beaumarchais added insult to injury by offering her eight thousand louis d’or and a share in all his profits, if she would submit herself to the verdict of a qualified jury nominated for the purpose by the policy-holders—proposals that were repelled with the contempt they deserved, and in the same spirit in which similar advances were repulsed in 1771, when the accommodation bribe amounted to fifteen thousand guineas. As bad was the confederacy into which Beaumarchais suffered himself to be drawn, having become associated in these foul speculations with the needy adventurer Morande; and it being the Chevalier’s practice, with his cacoëthes scribendi, to commit to paper every circumstance, every incident, small or great, in which he chanced to be concerned, he drew up and afterwards distributed a declaration, which was to show forth how Morande and Beaumarchais had endeavoured, in defiance of him, to practise fraud in their speculations on his sex.
‘We, the undersigned, Charles-Geneviève, &c. D’Eon de Beaumont, formerly captain of dragoons, &c.; François de la Chèvre, of Queen Street, Golden Square; Jacques Dupré, Esq., of New Bond Street; and Jean de Vignolles, Esq., of Warwick Street, do hereby declare on our word of honour, that being at dinner with the Chevalier D’Eon, of Brewer Street, Golden Square, on Thursday, April 11, of the current year, 1776, and being in the company of the said Chevalier D’Eon and of M. Charles Théveneau de Morande, Esq., of Duke Street, Oxford Road, whom we know to be the intimate friend and confidant of M. Caron de Beaumarchais, known to us as having been entrusted by the King of France to treat with the said Chevalier D’Eon for his return to France—the conversation turned on the revival, in November 1775, of the policies in regard to the sex of the said Chevalier D’Eon; that the said Chevalier D’Eon then declared to us that M. Caron de Beaumarchais and M. de Morande, who were present, had tried to induce him, the said Chevalier D’Eon, to associate himself with them in the traffic of these policies, representing to him that such a measure would infallibly lead to the gain of large sums of money. The said M. de Morande having eluded giving a categorical answer, the said Chevalier D’Eon sharply called upon the said M. de Morande to declare, frankly and clearly, whether he, Charles Théveneau de Morande, had not proposed to the said Chevalier D’Eon, in October 1775, at the time that M. Caron de Beaumarchais was in this country engaged in his negotiations, that he should make common cause with him in the policies on his sex? To which M. de Morande gave an affirmative and unequivocal answer. Whereupon, the Chevalier D’Eon having said that he had too much respect for himself ever to have dreamt of participating in the infamy with which the said Caron de Beaumarchais and the said de Morande sought to cover him, inquired whether, notwithstanding his refusal, he and his friend M. de Beaumarchais had not been foolish enough to deal in the said policies on his sex—to which we heard M. de Morande reply, that such, had in reality, been his intentions; but, to avoid all risks, he had consulted several eminent English lawyers as to whether, in the event of those policies being won, the law would constrain the losers to meet their liabilities, and that a unanimous reply in the negative was alone the cause of his having abandoned the idea of making money by the said policies; and he showed a good deal of ill-humour at the persistent refusal of the Chevalier D’Eon to countenance the disreputable transactions which he, de Morande, and his confederate de Beaumarchais, contemplated, on the female sex of the said Chevalier.[320]
‘Jacques Dupré.
‘J. de Vignolles.
‘De la Chèvre.
‘Le Chevalier D’Eon.’
‘London, May 8, 1776.’