The Young Chevalier ’Eon de Beaumont

Eighteenth century France was, arguably, not dissimilar to our own age in its outlook on morality. While there were clearly not the same opportunities to explore questions of one’s gender and sexuality that exist today, the epoch was less buttoned-up than, say, was the norm a century later. Men often dressed as women and vice versa. Some, such as the Abbé de Choisy (who died in 1724), did so frequently. However, most did so merely for sporadic fun, and therefore, even by the prevailing standards, the life and career of Charles Geneviève Louis Auguste André Timothée Marie Déon de Beaumont was something else.

Was Charles born female? Many, including Charles when it suited him/her, claimed that was the case. The story put about was that father Louis Déon would only inherit a substantial sum if he had a male heir and that after mother Francoise had given birth to one daughter, Victoire, patience was wearing thin. Given Francoise was only 21 when Charles was born on 5 October 1728, this might be thought impetuous – but stranger things have happened.

Thus Charles may have been in male disguise from the start. If such were the case, wearing dresses solidly until the age of four, and intermittently thereafter, may have been an odd way of going about this. Whatever the truth, gender confusion certainly resulted. (As you can see above, male names edged female by 5-2: Geneviève was the name of his godmother and his seventh name, Marie, was later added by his mother.)

Throughout the years of education, Charles was certainly living as a man and flourishing accordingly. After Louis Déon’s death, it has suited me to depict Charles as penniless and unknown. He/she was not rich, but the property was not in limbo as I have chosen to make out. Nor was Charles well-known, yet his/her book on French economic history was soon published in Paris so the cognoscenti became aware of the D’Éon de Beaumont name. However, for Charles to be unknown makes the story more dramatic, and credible. I also needed Charles to have outward motivations – restoring fortunes and lands, making a splash – as well as the desire to discover his/her true self.

These motivations could all be met by Charles joining the Secret du Roi (in effect, a French secret service pursuing aims known only to the King, Louis XV, which were often, staggeringly, at variance with official French foreign policy). The Secret was run by Louis’s cousin, the Prince de Conti: its twin objectives in 1755 were to bring Russia over to the French side in the event of a likely European war and to position Conti as the next King of Poland – an elective monarchy often coveted by France.

So Charles was probably known to Conti, as was his/her ability to pass convincingly for either sex. Such versatility was to change his/her life.

With long fair hair, soft blue eyes, a delicate complexion, well-moulded features, thin hands, a slight frame and (crucially) a very small Adam’s apple, Charles was proposed by Conti as the vehicle to fulfil Louis’s mission to St Petersburg. Accompanied by a Scottish émigré, Lord Douglas, as chaperone, Charles set out for Russia. I have chosen – on the basis of no evidence whatsoever – to have Douglas replaced by Charles’s later nemesis, General Guerchy, purely so that the conflict between hero and villain could begin during the earliest adventure and be carried through to subsequent books.

So it was the two trips to Russia in 1755 and 1756 that made his/her reputation. For the first mission, Charles took the identity of Lia de Beaumont to circumvent the ban on French men at the Russian court. Certain commentators have doubted whether this secret mission actually took place and claim that there are no records that it did so. But given the highly clandestine nature of the mission (and indeed of the whole Secret du Roi), it would perhaps be even more surprising if there were.

Moreover, something must have occurred to change the diplomatic backdrop from a scene where all Frenchmen were outlawed from Tsarina Elizabeth’s court in St Petersburg to one where a French embassy was welcomed there. The story goes that Lia/Charles became a lectrice to Elizabeth, lived in her apartments, read to her from the French philosophes, and smuggled a draft treaty to her. It is, I believe, quite reasonable (and certainly more fun) to take Charles’s testimony at face value. Anyway, I’ve certainly done so.

When Lia/Charles escaped from Russia with an agreement from Elizabeth to sign a treaty in the bag, he/she had managed to fool everyone there (up to a point) except the Tsarina – but she kept the secret because it suited her. It might be thought incredible that the French sent Charles back to St Petersburg, dressed as a man, to seal the formalities but that’s the legend.

Of course when this man purporting to be Lia’s brother appeared in Russia the next year, there must have been even greater suspicions. Nevertheless, Charles was able to allay these and, in conjunction with the real Lord Douglas (still replaced by Guerchy in my book), conclude the treaty with Tsarina Elizabeth.

Thus, even in his/her relatively early career (he/she lived to 81, only the autopsy declaring him male – after 33 solidly female years!), Charles was leading a double life, half as a headstrong man, half as a graceful woman. It was a course he/she was to maintain.