The Chevalier de Saint-Georges, Fighting To Be Seen

today's episode. Okay, now onto the show. Somewhere in the United Kingdom, perhaps in Windsor Castle or even deep within the recesses of Buckingham Palace, a portrait still sits in storage under the lock and key of the Royal Collection Trust. This twenty five by thirty inch canvas lays undisturbed in a room, likely with several other priceless works of art, waiting for a curator's eyes to decide that the these

portraits are worthy enough to be looked upon. The Royal Collection Trust has thousands of pieces in its collection, so it makes sense that when not in exhibition, each piece is carefully stowed away as to save it from sun damage or other potential museum mishaps. But in my opinion, this portrait in question, the one we're talking about now, feels wasted in the confines of a glorified storage unit.

Amidst the countless pieces in the Royal Collection trust featuring single subjects, more often than not, single subjects sitting in their homes, draped in ornate displays a finery, this particular piece is different in more ways than one. This portrait depicts not one subject, but two. The figures stand facing each other. The person on the right is in a deep lunge, their sword thrust dramatically toward their counterpart on the left, whose foil is in the act of parrying

at their rival. This isn't a portrait so much as an action piece. The inherent action in the scene is enough to garner more than a cursory glance. But it isn't just the scene itself that makes this portrait worthy of note.

waist in dramatic ruffles that cascade toward the ground. The idea of a woman engaging in a duel in the late eighteenth century, let alone one being painted for posterity, for it was essentially unheard of, But when it came to the Chevalier Dion, unheard of seemed to have become their mo For frequent listeners of our podcast, you may remember the revered French spy and swordsman, or rather swordswoman, the Chevalier Dion, but the matter of their gender was

the subject of much debate in Europe in the late eighteenth century. By April seventeen eighty seven, the date this particular duel took place, the Chevalier was presenting as a woman, but that didn't stop the public from voicing their opinions on the matter loudly, even going so far as to famously form a betting pool as to the quote unquote

true nature of her gender. Now in her late sixties, and because she was presenting as a woman, I will use female pronouns here, Dion was no stranger to the not so subtle whispers that tended to follow in her wake, but neither was the man that she was dueling against, Joseph Boulogne, the Chevalier de Saint George had been fighting to prove himself long before he had ever been given

a sword, let alone a violin. The accomplished fencer and composer spent years in Parasalons, impressing the likes of the Duke of Orleans and Marie Antoinette with his talent and his charm, but even then he was always considered an outsider. Saint George's musical genius should have been reason alone to make him a prime marriage candidate, not even mentioning his wealth and legendary good looks. But apart from secret trysts

behind closed doors, Saint George was a perpetual bachelor. The Parisian elite were happy to have him share the company of their beds, but only in the shadows. To them, the reason for their discretion became all too apparent in the light of day. The son of a French plantation owner and an enslaved woman from the island of Guadaloupe,

Saint George was a black man. He may have been granted entry into their salons and orchestras based on his artistic merit, but Joseph likely felt the asterisk that seemed to accompany his presence. He was unmatched in skill in both violin and sword, and yet he would never be one of them. He would forever linger on the outskirts, a novelty, to be paraded about, to be looked at, to be talked about, but never to be fully included.

In the back room of some royal storeroom somewhere, this portrait sits waiting, two figures from French history, each fighting each other for their chance to be seen in a world that viewed them as amusing sideshow attractions. Depending on the historical account you might read, it's unclear exactly who won the duel that day. Some say Dion won handily, while others say Saint George pulled back his aggression to let Dion take the prize money that she desperately needed

at this point in her life. Ultimately, I don't think the outcome of the duel itself is that important to dwell on. Rather, the very fact that this duel between a black swordsman slash violinist slash composer and a diplomat slash spy slash soldier, who, had she lived today, would likely have identified as a transgender woman, even happened at all, was just going to show how fast the world was

changing at the end of the eighteenth century. The portrait itself may be hidden away for now temporarily, but the visibility that came from this moment in history would only go on to foreshadow the major upheaval France was about to endure over the course of the next decade. The duel of the two chevaliers may not have had a clear winner, but coming out of Carlton House, where the duel was held that day, one thing was for certain.

Change was coming. The outskirts of society were knocking at the door, and it was only a matter of time before they would go ahead and let themselves in. I'm Dana Schwartz, and this is noble blood. The duel between the Chevalier Dion and the Chevalier de Saint George was one of many duels that Saint George participated in during

his time in London in seventeen eighty seven. As we learned last week, Saint George was left somewhat adrift in terms of both his financial and living situations following the death of his employer, the Duke of Orleans, in seventeen eighty five. By this point, he had composed several concertos and even a few operas, but without the concert d'armatur, Saint George was left without an orchestra and therefore without

a way to make a living. Fortunately for him, while his employment under the Duke of Orleans may have ended, the Duke's son, Philippe the new Duke, had become a dear friend to the Chevalier over the years, and the newly minted Duke decided to invite Saint George along with him to London to meet the Prince of Wales, who had heard rumors of Saint George's legendary skill with a sword.

Saint George happily accompanied his friend the Duke across the Channel, but little did he know what else the Duke had in store for him. Later in his life, Philippe the Duke would change his name to Philippe Egalite, which in English would translate to Philippe Equality, to reflect his opposition to the absolute monarchy in France and his support of

the French Revolution. So it should come as no surprise that the Duke inviting Saint George's to London in the midst of the growing political tensions in France, was more than a little politically motivated. Saint George would compete in multiple duels during his initial trip to London, but it was during this stay that he would befriend the Prince of Wales and a handful of other well known Whig

politicians at the time. If you're keeping track on your Noble Blood bingo card, the Chevalier de Saint George's stint

in London likely covers about half of the board. Considering the political circles Philippe the Duke was likely associated with, it's not impossible to think Saint George's likely rubbed shoulders with not only the Chevalier Deon and the Prince of Wales the future George the Fourth, but also Georgiana Cavendish, the Duchess of Devonshire, Richard Sheridan, the infamous playwright who wrote that play loosely based on her life, and Charles Gray,

the young man who would one day become Georgiana's lover. Suffice to say, this was peak noble blood era, and Saint George happened to stumble right into the middle of it. But in addition to the Whig Party members he had become acquainted with, Philippe made sure to introduce Saint George

to several British abolitionists as well. Through his connections, Saint George would work to translate their literature for the French abolitionist group Society di Ami de Noir, which loosely translates to the Society of Friends of Black People, which would first officially gather in seventeen eighty eight with the goal

to abolish the slave trade in the French colonies. Philippe and Saint George's time in London was spent strengthening liberal tide and creating allies to help in the inevitable French Revolution, but no amount of political chess could have prepared the two men for the wrath that they would face when they returned to French soil. After the fall of the Bastille in July seventeen eighty nine, Saint George decided to

take a definitive side in the revolution. His fondness for Marie Antoinette and for his aristocratic colleagues probably lingered in the back of his mind, but when making his choice, the cultural asterisk people had often regarded him with when attending the exclusive Parisian salons made his choice easy. In the end, he was the son of an enslaved woman from a French colony where count of his relatives remained enslaved. While he was lucky enough to live his privileged life

on the continent. He fought unequivocally for the revolution and the change in power structures it promised to bring. On September seventh, seventeen ninety two, a mixed race black man named Julian Raymond appeared in Paris in front of the National Assembly and read aloud before the crowd, quote, since your beneficent law of the twenty fourth of March reminded us of our rights, we have taken an oath to spill our blood for the defense of the motherland. We

shall fulfill this sacred oath. Like all Frenchmen, we are burning with the desire to fly to our frontiers. End quote. By the next day, the Assembly had agreed to the formation of a battalion composed entirely of men of color, and their leader would be none other than the newly appointed Captain Saint George. It seemed change had finally arrived, and Saint George was no longer the man sticking out of the crowd. But a man surrounded by his peers

fighting for their future together. Saint George's clout as a swordsman and a former member of the Parisian elite made him the perfect choice to lead the new brigade, which ended up with eight hundred foot soldiers and two hundred mounted troops. Together, his new army of men fought against Austrian forces in Lelle just a week after their initial formation.

In the end, they collected their first victory in the name of the French Revolution, and while the regiment's success and leal voted well for the Revolution, their progress wasn't without its own set of trials. Many of Saint George's men were trained officers, but in a group of one thousand men, more than a few were green in the

way of combat and military strategy. At the same time, funds that were promised to the troops were being consistently delayed by the National Assembly, so much so that when they demanded the group's presence on the front in February seventeen ninety three, Saint George wrote back quote, he could not lead his men to be slaughtered without at least a chance to teach them to tell their left from

their right end quote. Ultimately, Saint George's refusal led his thousand man battalion to be disbanded until he was left with just a unit of seventy three so in his command. But come that September, Saint George would have far more to worry about than just diminished troops. The decree known as the Law of Suspects, made by the French National Assembly in September seventeen ninety three is what most historians agree to be what started what's referred to today as

the Reign of Terror. The vague language of that decree ordered the arrest of any enemy of the revolution, specifically former nobility and those with connections to the French monarchy. Unfortunately, for Saint George, his career as a military captain didn't do much to diminish his former ties to Marie Antoinette.

Not to mention, there was his former position as a member of the King's Guard in his early twenties, which was how on September twenty fifth, seventeen ninety three, he and ten of his officers found themselves behind bars on suspicion of defying the revolution. After weeks of imprisonment, every other officer in Saint George's infantry had been discharged from prison, and yet Joseph himself remained behind bars. In the weeks that followed, he likely heard just scraps of information from

the outside world. First came news of the death of Marie Antoinette, then word that his beloved friend Philippe Egalite, the Duke of Orleans, who wanted nothing more than the revolution to succeed, similar met his end under the sharp blade of the guillotine. As the months pass Saint George waited in purgatory, his efforts to aid the revolution being halted by the very people that he was trying to work for. Unsure if he would meet a similar fate

as his friends, he could do nothing but wait. As the war was fought and the reign of terror continued to relish in the noble blood that flowed in an ever constant stream into Paris's gutters. The only reprieve in his constant worry came in February seventeen ninety four, when word surely reached him that slavery had officially been abolished in France. After years of political maneuvering and fighting for his right to belong in a world that was built

to actively diminish him. Saint George celebrated the freedom of his brothers and sisters back on the island of Guadalupe from inside the walls of a military prison in France. Freedom, it seemed, came at a price. It wouldn't be until October of seventeen ninety four that Saint George would finally learn what was to become of him. After over a year in holding and eleven months in military prison, he

was acquitted of his charges and released. But with his closest friends beheaded and with no way to make a livelihood, Saint George found that he had nowhere to go. The final years of Saint George's life are oddly reflective of the legacy he would eventually come to leave behind. Unable to turn back to his life of fencing and orchestra concertos for the noble elite, Saint George was left with no choice but to attempt to climb his way back

into military life. In the years of his imprisonment, the revolution had continued on without him, which meant he had to try to claw his way back into a system that had essentially forgotten he existed after Saint George's death in seventeen ninety nine. Napoleon reinstated slavery in eighteen o two in French colonies. Some historians argue that in order to quell abolitionist sentiments, Napoleon chose to bury San George's

history to prevent making him into a martyr. Fortunately, Napoleon's reach didn't negate the citizens of Guadaloupe from sharing San George's story, as well as sharing his music in them. His history lived on the world Joseph Bologna had worked so hard to become a part of may have died with the French Revolution, but in the end his story was carried on and he was seen by the people to whom it mattered the most. That's the end of our two part series on Joseph Belone the Chevalier de

Saint George. But stick around after a sponsor break to hear about yet another famous figure he encountered during his time as a captain in the French Revolution. As I mentioned earlier in terms of noble blood lore, the Chevalier de Saint George interconnects a fair few of our favorite former subjects, but one subject I haven't covered. Who is also unbelievably associated with San George was a man named

Thomas Alexandra Dumas. If the name sounds familiar somewhat, you are likely more familiar with the works of his son, the very similar named Alexander Dumas, who wrote The Count of Monte Cristo and the Three Musketeers. Well as it happened, Alexander's father, Thomas Alexander, was a member of Sant George's all person of color military unit during the French Revolution. Dumas was similarly descended from a French nobleman and an enslaved woman, and served alongside San George at the beginning

of the Revolution. Interestingly, though, when looking at the younger Dumas's memoir about his father, he paints Saint George in let's say, a less than favorable light. Alexandre Dumas's father died when the younger was only four years old, so any stories he may have heard about his father had to come from a secondary source. But that in itself adds an element of intrigue to Dumas's description of Saint George.

In one story, he describes his father, not Saint George leading his regiment into battle, stating Saint George quote, lacking the stomach for a fight end quote, and choosing to stay back in Lille when Dumas bravely prevailed into battle. It stands to question whether the two men had a rivalry of some kind, if the tales told to his son were inflammatory as to make Saint George out to be a coward while his father got to play the

role of hero. Perhaps the most interesting detail in all of this, though, is the circumstances of Saint George's arrest during the Reign of Terror. When Saint George was put into custody, Thomas Alexander Dumas had only just been promoted

to brigadier general that September seventeen ninety three. Coincidence possibly, but if there was bad blood between the two men and one had recently come into a position of power over the other, it may answer the question as to why Saint George was the only member of his brigade who remained in military prison for eleven months under fear of execution when all the other men had been released.

Like most historical speculation, we will likely never know, but Dumas's portrayal of Saint George does leave us with an interesting parting thought history. However objective it may seem, always has a point of view. Thanks for listening. Episode script available at patreon dot com. Slash Noble Blood Tales. Noble Blood is a production of iHeartRadio and Grim and Mild

from Aaron Manky. Noble Blood is created and hosted by me Dana Schwortz, with additional writing and researching by Hannah Johnston, Hannah Zwick, Mira Hayward, Courtney Sender, and Lori Goodman. The show is edited and produced by Noemi Griffin and rima Il Kahali, with supervising producer Josh Thain and executive producers Aaron Manke, Alex Williams, and Matt Frederick. For more podcasts