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diff --git a/old/37960-0.txt b/old/37960-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 2c17a54..0000000 --- a/old/37960-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,9489 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of Beaumarchais and the War of American -Independence, by Elizabeth S. Kite - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with -almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or -re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included -with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org - - -Title: Beaumarchais and the War of American Independence Vol. 1 of 2 - -Author: Elizabeth S. Kite - -Release Date: November 9, 2011 [EBook #37960] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BEAUMARCHAIS AND THE WAR OF *** - - - - -Produced by Roberta Staehlin, Henry Gardiner and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This -file was produced from images generously made available -by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.) - - - - - - - * * * * * - -Transcriber’s Note: The original publication has been replicated -faithfully except as shown in the Transcriber’s Amendments at the end of -the text. Words in italics are indicated like _this_. But the publisher -also wanted to emphasize items in sentences already italicized, so he -printed them in the regular font which is indicated like this: _The -pirates then went to +Hispaniola+._ Superscripts are indicated like this: -M^r Caron de Beaumarchais. Footnotes are located near the end of the -Historical Introduction chapter. - - * * * * * - - [Illustration] - - [Illustration: Portrait of Beaumarchais, by Nattier, 1765] - - - - - BEAUMARCHAIS - - _And the War of - American Independence_ - - BY - - ELIZABETH S. KITE - - _Diplôme d’instruction Primaire-Supérieure, Paris, 1905 - Member of the Staff of the Vineland Research Laboratory_ - - WITH A FOREWORD BY - JAMES M. BECK - _Author of “The Evidence in the Case”_ - - TWO VOLUMES - VOLUME ONE - - ILLUSTRATED - - [Illustration] - - BOSTON - RICHARD G. BADGER - THE GORHAM PRESS - - - COPYRIGHT, 1918, BY RICHARD G. BADGER - - All Rights Reserved - - Made in the United States of America - - The Gorham Press, Boston, U. S. A. - - - TO THE MEMORY OF - - MY BROTHER - - -“_We have been surprised that no descendant of Beaumarchais was invited to -represent France at the unveiling of that Statue of Liberty, upon the -pedestal of which his name would not be out of place by the side of that -of Lafayette. Since 1870 Mr. Bigelow has invited his compatriots to ask -themselves seriously if they have done their whole duty towards the memory -of Beaumarchais._” - - E. Lintilhac. - “_Beaumarchais et ses oeuvres_,” - Paris, 1887. - - - - - FOREWORD - - -If “good wine needs no bush” and a “good play needs no epilogue,”--and we -have high authority for both these maxims,--then it should also be true -that a good book needs no prologue, especially where, as in the case of -_Beaumarchais and the War of American Independence_, the author has -prefaced a valuable contribution to history by a scholarly and effective -introduction. - -Notwithstanding this, it gives me pleasure to introduce Miss Elizabeth S. -Kite’s work to the American public by a tribute to its value as a timely -contribution alike to the truth of history and the spirit of patriotism. -In these “times that try men’s souls,” the latter consideration may be the -more important. - -The historic tie, which binds together the two great Republics (France and -the United States) in, please God, an indissoluble alliance, cannot be too -constantly emphasized at this time. - -It is difficult for America to play the full part, which it should play in -the present world tragedy of supreme interest, unless its people have a -conscious sense of their vital interest in the great issues of the titanic -struggle. Unfortunately our century-old policy of isolation has until -recent months given them a somewhat provincial view of world politics. The -balance of power and similar questions, which were primarily of European -origin and interest, but which vitally affect the whole world in these -days, when Civilization is unified by the centripetal ties of steam and -electricity, were until recent months only of academic interest to the -average American, who like Gallio, “cared for none of these things.” The -result was that at the beginning of the world war, the average American -felt that we were not as a nation concerned with the causes of the -quarrel, and to this narrow and apathetic attitude is to be justly -attributed America’s temporary infidelity to its noblest ideals and vital -interests for a period of nearly three years. Fortunately, this policy of -narrowing isolation is at an end. President Wilson’s epoch-making message -of January 9, 1918, dealt with world-wide problems from a cosmopolitan -attitude that would have been impossible less than twelve months ago. The -transformation of America from a politically hermit nation to _a_, if not -_the_, leading world power has been amazing in its swiftness. - -Even at the beginning of the world crisis, one circumstance gave America a -partial, although an inadequate, appreciation that America had a direct -relation to the issues of the world war. It was the instinctive feeling -that the American people owed something to its ancient ally, France. It -was not that the average American believed that France’s interests were -our interests, but a subconscious feeling of gratitude stirred America’s -emotions and slowly developed an ever-growing sentiment that America could -not stand idly by, when its ancient ally was in danger of destruction as a -world power. - -The submarine peril gave to America a practical interest in the war, but -as it affected only a small portion of the nation, the denial of our -rights on the high seas did not have an appeal to the American people, -which, of itself, would have reconciled them to the inevitable sacrifices -of the war. In the soul of America, there was always a deeper, even if a -subconscious feeling, which powerfully moved her emotions and sympathies; -and that feeling was one of deep solicitude for the great nation, which, -in our hour of peril, had come to our relief and whose destruction as a -beneficent world force would have been an irreparable disaster to -Civilization. This feeling of gratitude--and republics are not always -ungrateful--was powerfully stimulated by the admiration with which we -witnessed the heroism of France in beating back a more powerful invader on -the Marne, and later in the titanic struggle at Verdun, and on the Somme. - -This factor in America’s epoch-making departure from its traditional -policy of isolation would have been even greater had the average American -known sufficient of his own history to realize the full measure of his -country’s obligation to France. It is an extraordinary fact that the -average American has scant knowledge of his own history, with the -exception of the few basic and elementary facts which are taught in the -schools. As a very practical people we are more interested in the living -present and the future, and are too little concerned with our past. If the -American reads history at all, he is more apt to study the Napoleonic -wars, which always have had a fascinating interest for Americans because -of the dramatic features of Napoleon’s career, and because in his earlier -career he represented the democratic principle of the “career open to -talent”. - -If this lack of knowledge of American history were not so, this book would -not be as much of a revelation to the average American, as I am confident -it will be. I venture to say that not one in a hundred Americans ever -heard of Beaumarchais as one of the earliest and most effective friends of -the Colonies in their epic struggle for independence. - -The writer of this foreword studied the facts, which are so effectively -and attractively narrated in this volume, some years ago; and although he -always had been from early boyhood a student of history, the facts were -then new to him and came with the force of a revelation. Since then, I -have taken occasion to make many inquiries among educated Americans, and -found few who had any adequate knowledge of the facts narrated in this -book. - -I have made a number of addresses on the same subject, which Miss Kite has -so fully and ably treated, and I have found few in any audience, even of -educated Americans, to whom the story of Beaumarchais did not come as a -new and almost incredible chapter in history. - -In my book, _The War and Humanity_, in discussing America’s lack of vision -and the failure of its colleges and universities to teach adequately to -the American youth their own history, I took occasion to say that if the -ten most brilliant students of the senior classes of the ten leading -universities were asked the simple question, “How did aid first come to -America from France” that not five per cent could answer the question -correctly. I referred to the secret aid which Beaumarchais secured for the -armies of Washington, without which the American Revolution might have -ended in a fiasco before Dr. Franklin reached Paris in his quest for such -aid. - -The great diplomat’s services in France in securing the formal alliance of -1778, and the immense prestige which he there enjoyed, have served to -obscure the inestimable services of his predecessors in the great work, -like Beaumarchais and Silas Deane. For it is true beyond question that -before Dr. Franklin ever left America on his great mission, France was -secretly aiding the Colonies, and that no one was more responsible for -that aid than the distinguished author of _The Barber of Seville_ and _The -Marriage of Figaro_. All that the average American knows of the subject is -that Dr. Franklin was well received in France, and that after the battle -of Saratoga, the French Government decided to enter into a formal alliance -with America; and sent to Washington its armies and navies under -Rochambeau and De Grasse, and that among the chivalrous volunteers was -Lafayette, a household name in every American home. Without depreciating -the chivalrous services of the knightly Marquis, his contribution to the -foundation of the American nation from a practical standpoint was less -than that of Beaumarchais; but while Lafayette’s name is lisped with -affectionate gratitude by every American child, the names of America’s -earlier friends in France, like Beaumarchais and the great foreign -Minister, Vergennes, are almost unknown. - -Had Beaumarchais’s services in sending arms and munitions to Washington’s -army, when they were so imperatively needed, been better known, there -might have been a less dangerous agitation in the American Congress for an -embargo on the shipment of arms and munitions to France in those earlier -days of the present war, when France stood at a great disadvantage with -its powerful adversary by reason of its comparative lack of equipment. - -It is this circumstance that makes Miss Kite’s book a valuable -contribution to the cause of patriotism. Every American who reads it will -have a deeper sense of obligation to France; and in the trying days that -are coming to America, this inestimable debt to France requires -restatement, and this book thus renders a timely and patriotic service. - -Apart from this consideration, Miss Kite’s book is a very interesting -contribution to the portrait gallery of biography. It tells us of one of -the most fascinating personalities that history has ever known. It reads -like a romance of Dumas. Indeed, I always think of Beaumarchais as a -D’Artagnan in the flesh. If the facts were not so well authenticated they -would be regarded as the wildest romance. - -Beaumarchais was a true child of the Renaissance. I sometimes think that -in the lengthening vista of the centuries to come, the Renaissance--that -indeterminate period--will be regarded as having ended with the coming of -the steamship and the railroad. Until the dawn of the present industrial -era, men still differed but slightly from the wonderful children of the -golden Renaissance. Leonardo da Vinci was reincarnated in Benjamin -Franklin. The stupendous genius of such men as Da Vinci and Michael Angelo -can have no parallel in present times, for the industrial era is the age -of specialization. - -Similarly Beaumarchais was an Eighteenth Century reincarnation of -Benvenuto Cellini, and like him, was a strange mixture of genius and -adventurer. Unlike Cellini, Beaumarchais with all his failings had a -certain nobility of character, which will endear him to all, who follow in -this notable biography his extraordinary career. - -In some respects a camoufleur, he yet played the part of a hero throughout -his trying and arduous career, and rendered a great service to the coming -of the democratic era. As a litterateur, he was as brilliant as Richard -Brinsley Sheridan; as a publicist, he was another Junius; as a financier, -something of a Harriman; as a secret emissary of the French Government, -something of a Sherlock Holmes; as a diplomat, as clever as Talleyrand. - -A farseeing statesman, he was one of the extraordinary characters of an -extraordinary era. His influence in precipitating the French Revolution -was recognized by Napoleon himself, when he said that the memorials of -Beaumarchais in his great struggle against the corrupt judiciary of -France, which in their destructive force are nothing under-valued to the -polemics of Junius, was “the Revolution in action.” - -There is no need to commend Miss Kite’s book to the reader, for even -though she had not treated an exceptionally interesting subject with -literary skill, yet the subject matter is of such fascinating interest -that the story tells itself. - -The only limitation will be that the average reader, because of the -intensely dramatic character of the story, will wonder whether the book is -romance or fiction. It is only necessary to refer such doubters to the -French archives where it will be found that all that Miss Kite has told is -as well authenticated as any biography, and thus again the ancient adage -is vindicated that “truth is stranger than fiction.” - - JAMES M. BECK. - - - - - PREFACE - - -In 1905 while in London I availed myself of the opportunity to attend the -courses in general history given by the late Dr. Emil Reich at various -educational centers--Gresham College, the Polytechnique, the University of -London, etc. The originality and force of his method of teaching attracted -me strongly, though the desire to be able to reply to his attacks upon the -people of my own country was the most powerful incentive that led me to -follow him to every corner of London where his courses were given. - -The most frequently reiterated accusation made against Americans was that -of ingratitude, as shown by our utterly ignoring the services of -Beaumarchais in the cause of American Independence. This made me -indignant. - -Having studied United States history since my childhood and being familiar -with almost everything written on the subject, I naturally asked myself if -it were possible that this man, whose name I knew only in connection with -French literature, had any conspicuous part to play in the securing of our -independence. The idea seemed to me as absurd and impossible as it was -novel. - -For nine months I listened to these accusations without the slightest -change in my attitude and without even a dawning of real interest in the -subject so frequently referred to. Then I went to Paris to complete a -three months’ course of study. On my return I again took up general -history under Dr. Reich. It so fell out, that his first lecture was upon -the American Revolution. It was most illuminating. This time he approached -the subject directly and without any remarks offensive to American pride. -Before he had finished, I found myself wondering where I could learn more -in regard to a matter which seemed to be very interesting. The next day, -following his advice, I went to the British Museum, where to my amazement -I found so many volumes in French, German, and Italian, and also some -English translations, all dealing with this subject, that I was compelled -to admit that America did seem to be alone in her ignorance of all that -France had done for her. Moreover, as I turned and returned the pages of -that monumental work of H. Doniol’s, _La Participation de la France dans -L’établissement des Etats-Unis_, and read or glanced over the memoirs of -Beaumarchais to the king and to his ministers, and their replies, I -realized that Dr. Reich had known very well what he was saying and that -what he said was true. - -Under his direction then, this book was compiled--for it claims to be very -little else than a bringing together of the documentary material bearing -upon the subject, and so arranged as to make a continuous story. But this -“bringing together” soon came to be a labor of love, for I found like -Gudin, that it was impossible to know Beaumarchais intimately and to -appreciate him only moderately. - -But in 1906, when I left London, the time was not ripe for the production -of the work, because the attitude of the American public was very much -like my own during those few months when the subject was first brought to -my attention. It was laid aside, and I waited. In the twelve years that -have intervened, I occasionally have drawn forth a few chapters to read to -a group of friends, whose interest has always assured me that some day the -American Public would be ready to meet “their friend”--as Beaumarchais -always styled himself in regard to them. - -Finally in the fall of 1916 I received, through Miss Adelaide Fitch of the -Hannah Arnett Chapter of the D. R.’s of Vineland, New Jersey, an -invitation to speak upon this subject before that body. Without doubt a -very real interest was awakened among my hearers and as a result of such -encouragement I confided to Miss Fitch my entire manuscript, which I had -not read myself in ten years, and with her I continued, during the winter -that followed, to live over again the joys of my first discovery of -America’s “Friend.” When the French Commission arrived in the United -States in April, 1917, public interest began rapidly to center in France. -Her aid to America was no longer a matter of indifference. The time seemed -ripe and so the work was prepared for publication. - -My thanks are here tendered to the many friends who have aided me by their -interest or by their practical help--first, to Mr. and Mrs. Joseph Fels in -whose hospitable London home the work was begun; to Fraulein Hedwig -Appell, whose sympathetic interest brightened many a dark hour in those -far off London days; to Miss Mary Starbuck of Nantucket, Massachusetts, -whose intelligent criticisms often have been of great value; to my nephews -Joshua A. Cope and St. Alban Kite, to Miss Adelaide Fitch, Miss Eleanor -Gray, Miss Jane Griffiths, Miss Flora Otis, Mrs. H. S. Wood--all of whose -friendly reassurances have kept the embers glowing under the ashes of -deferred hope. Among the many others who have aided directly or indirectly -in the preparation of the book I would thank Mr. Joseph P. Byers, Madame -Schwaar and Mademoiselle Schwaar of Philadelphia; Dr. Henry H. Goddard, -Dr. C. T. Jones of Vineland, New Jersey; and the Religious of the Cenacle, -New York, and of the Sacred Heart and of the Holy Child Jesus, -Philadelphia, whose interest and prayers have constantly followed the -work. - - Morton, Pa., ELIZABETH S. KITE. - May 1, 1918. - - - - - CONTENTS - - - PAGE - - Foreword 9 - By Hon. James M. Beck. - - Preface 17 - - Historical Introduction 27 - - CHAPTER I - - Early life--Trained by his Father to the Trade of Watchmaker-- - Invents an Escapement for Watches--First Lawsuit--_Horloger - du Roi_--Enters the Court of Versailles as _Contrôleur - clerc d’office_--First Marriage--Assumes the name of - Beaumarchais--Death of his Wife--Becomes Music Master to - the Princesses of France--Attracts the Attention of Paris - du Verney 43 - - CHAPTER II - - Induces the Princesses to Visit the _École Militaire_ - Established by du Verney--First Financial Successes--Certain - Great Lords _mis hors du combat_--“_The Frère Charmant_”-- - the Devoted Son--Preparations for Trip to Spain 69 - - CHAPTER III - - Adventure with Clavico--Business Negotiations in Spain--Life - of Pleasure at the Spanish Capital--Home Interests and - Letters 85 - - CHAPTER IV - - The Beautiful Creole, Pauline--Beaumarchais the Judge, the - Lover, the Friend--Mademoiselle de Boisgarnier Marries Janot - de Miron--The Père Caron’s Second Marriage 105 - - CHAPTER V - - New study of Beaumarchais by Lintilhac--Beaumarchais’s Return - from Madrid--The Lover of Julie Carries off Pauline--the - _Règlement de compte_ which Terminated this - Romantic Chapter of the Life of Beaumarchais 126 - - CHAPTER VI - - “_Eugénie_”--“_Les deux Amis_”--Second Marriage of - Beaumarchais--The Forest of Chinon--Death of Madame de - Beaumarchais 142 - - CHAPTER VII - - The Death of Paris du Verney--The Lawsuit La Blache--Judgment - Rendered in Favor of Beaumarchais--The Comte de La Blache-- - Appeals to the New Parliament--Private Life of Beaumarchais - at This Period 164 - - CHAPTER VIII - - Beaumarchais and the Duc de Chaulnes--Attempt Upon the Life of - Beaumarchais--Same Evening Gives the Promised Reading of _Le - Barbier de Séville_.--Victim of a _Lettre de Cachet_ 178 - - CHAPTER IX - - Beaumarchais at For-l’Evêque--Letter to his Little Friend-- - Second Trial in the Suit Instituted Against Him by the Count - de La Blache--Efforts to secure an Audience with the - Reporter Goëzman--Second Judgment Rendered Against - Beaumarchais--He Obtains his Liberty--Loudly Demands the - Return of his Fifteen Louis 196 - - CHAPTER X - - The Goëzman Lawsuit--The Famous Memoirs of Beaumarchais 213 - - CHAPTER XI - - The Preparation of the Memoirs--Aid Rendered by Family and - Friends--The Judgment--Beaumarchais _blâme_--Enters the - Secret Service of the King--Gudin Relates the Circumstances - of the Meeting between the Civilly Degraded Man and Her Who - Became His Third Wife--The Père Caron’s Third Marriage 235 - - CHAPTER XII - - Beaumarchais Goes to London in Quality of Secret Agent of - Louis XV--Theveneau de Morande and His _Gazetier Cuirassé_-- - The King Dies--Beaumarchais’s Second Mission Under - Louis XVI--Playing _Figaro_ upon the Stage of Life--Visits - the Empress of Austria--Is Imprisoned at Vienna--Addresses - Memoir to the King--Confers with the Ministers upon the - Recall of the Parliaments 248 - - CHAPTER XIII - - The Character of Figaro--The First Performance of _Le Barbier - de Séville_--Its Success after Failure--Beaumarchais’s - Innovation at the Closing of the Theatre--His First Request - for an Exact Account from the Actors--_Barbier de Séville_ - at the Petit-Trianon 269 - - CHAPTER XIV - - Beaumarchais Undertakes to Protect the Rights of Dramatic - Authors--Lawsuit with the _Comédie-Française_--Founder of - the First Society of Dramatic Authors--Jealousies Among - Themselves Retard Success--National Assembly Grants Decree - 1791--Final Form Given by Napoleon 286 - - - - - LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS - - - FACING PAGE - - Portrait of Beaumarchais, by Nattier, 1765 Frontispiece - - Palace of Versailles 32 - - Louis XV 56 - - Marie Leczinska, Wife of Louis XV 60 - - _École Militaire_ 70 - - Madame de Pompadour 67 - - Princess de Lamballe 120 - - _Eugénie_ 152 - - _Le Jardin du Petit-Trianon_ 162 - - Madame du Barry 176 - - Title Page of the Memoirs of M. Caron de Beaumarchais 215 - - Figaro 236 - - Louis XVI 256 - - Marie Antoinette 256 - - _Le Petit-Trianon_ 283 - - Charles Philippe--Comte d’Artois 292 - - - - - HISTORICAL INTRODUCTION - - -The primary cause of discontent among the American colonies, which led to -the Declaration of Independence in 1776, was the proclamation by the King -of England after the evacuation of America by the French in 1763, -forbidding the colonists to extend their settlements west of the -Alleghenies.[1] - -This proclamation instantly roused the ire of the men of the New World, -for the war waged for so many years in the wilderness against the French -and the Indians had taught the settlers the incomparable value of their -vast “Hinterland,” and having won at so great cost and by such effort a -footing on the coast, they were by no means willing to be dictated to in -the matter of expansion. Like stalwart sons of a mighty race, grown to -manhood in heroic struggle with the forces of nature, brought to -self-consciousness by the conflict they had endured, these men of the New -World felt within themselves the power, and therefore believed in their -right, to conquer the great and almost unexplored wilderness lying beyond -them. From the moment they were made to feel a restriction to their -liberty in this direction, there was nothing wanting but a pretext for -breaking with the mother country. Nor had they long to wait. One petty act -of tyranny after another showed the determination of the English King -still to treat as a child the son now grown to manhood. At length the time -was ripe and the outbreak came. - -Righteous indignation and personal prowess, however, are of themselves -unable to win battles or to insure victory. To be effective they must rest -upon a material basis, and in the contest of the colonies with England -this material basis was conspicuously wanting. - -Sparingly provided with munitions of war, possessing no central -government, and lacking unity among themselves, the colonies seemed at the -first to be leading a forlorn hope. The feeling of resentment roused by -the arbitrary interference of England was indeed great, yet the jealousy -that existed between the colonies themselves was, if possible, greater -still.[2] - -Nor was this surprising. Up to the time of forming the determination to -break with England there had been no common interest to unite them. -Neither habits of life nor uniformity of opinion bound them together; on -the contrary, the causes which had brought them into being were just so -many forces tending to keep them widely apart. It was this spirit of -jealous fear that made of the Continental Congress a body so conspicuously -devoid of dignity and incapable of commanding respect either at home or -abroad. Composed of delegates representing the colonies, this improvised -body found itself, when assembled in Philadelphia, practically without -power. It could advise and suggest, but it had no authority to tax the -people or even to levy troops.[3] - -The presence of members representing different party factions was a -fertile source of discord. More than once the whole cause was brought to -the brink of ruin through the injudicious actions of this incompetent -body.[4] Once it was put to flight by a handful of drunken soldiers and -during the entire course of its existence it remained a living -demonstration of the fact that where there is no authority, no respect -can be commanded, no law enforced. - -In this state of affairs help from outside was imperatively needed and -eagerly sought. The question that presented itself was, to whom could the -Americans turn in their dilemma. Naturally to no second-rate European -power, for in combating England, England so lately victorious over all her -enemies, powerful support was necessary; and for powerful support to whom -could she turn but to France? (Geo. Bancroft, Vol. IV, p. 360.) It is not -therefore surprising that we find her looking in this direction. Nor was -France herself indifferent to the situation for she was still smarting -under the humiliating treaty of 1763. The blood of every true-born -Frenchman boiled with indignation when he realized the position to which -his proud nation had been brought through the frivolity and egotism of -Louis XV. From her place among the nations France had been cast down. She -had fallen, not because her own courage or strength had failed her, but -because she had been foully betrayed by those who placed the satisfaction -of their immense egotism before their country’s honor; she was burning -with desire to vindicate herself before the nations of the earth, and to -reconquer her place among them. No wonder, then, that she hailed with joy -the first symptoms shown by the Americans of resistance to British rule. - -On the part of the colonists, however, there was no feeling of real -sympathy uniting them with the French. English still at heart, though for -the moment fighting against England, the descendants of the Puritans -looked with a half disdain upon what they considered the light and -frivolous French. More than this, the war terminated by the treaty of 1763 -had left many bitter memories:--Indian massacres, and midnight atrocities, -all laid at the door of England’s historic foe. Moreover, the -disinterestedness of her offers of help seemed to the colonists at the -beginning to be open to question. Had France for a moment shown signs of a -desire to regain her footing upon the western continent, there was not an -American but would have scorned her proffered services. Upon this point, -indeed, they were one--their “Hinterland.” For this they would fight, and -in regard to this they would make no compromises. - -Perhaps even better than they themselves, France understood the -instinctive attitude of the Americans towards their own continent, and her -first care was to assure the colonists that in case she should decide to -come to their assistance it would be with no intention of laying claim to -any part of the New World. (See _Recommendations to Bonvouloir_, by the -Comte de Vergennes--“Canada,” he says, “is with them _le point jaloux_; -they must be made to understand that we do not think of it in the -least.”)[5] - -But however great her interest in the struggle, however enthusiastic her -admiration of the heroic part played by the colonists, she was yet far -from desiring to enter prematurely into the contest by openly espousing -their cause at the moment. As a people, she might give them her moral -support, but as a body politic she was forced to act with extreme caution, -for not only was the treasury exhausted, the army and navy demoralized,[6] -but above all the irresolute character of the young Monarch, his -settled aversion to war, his abhorrence of insurrection, were almost -insurmountable obstacles which had to be overcome before the French -Government could attempt to send aid to the insurgent colonies. - -The interests of France were, however, too deeply involved to permit the -ministry to look on as idle spectators, and early in 1775 Bonvouloir had -been sent to Philadelphia with secret instructions to sound the attitude -of Congress in regard to France, but bearing positive orders to compromise -the Government in no wise by rousing in the colonies hope of assistance. - -As soon, however, as it became known that a kindly interest was felt for -them by France, the secret committee of Congress began to investigate how -far this interest could be relied upon for the benefit of their cause.[7] - -Early in the summer of 1776, Silas Deane was sent to Paris with a -commission to secure the urgently needed military supplies and also to -enlist foreign officers, especially engineers, for the war. He was -received at Versailles in a friendly manner, and though no open support -was given him, a secret agent of the Government was pointed out, and Deane -was made to understand that there would be no interference with any -proceedings that might go on between them. The direct result of these -negotiations was that during the spring of 1777, ammunition, guns, and the -complete military equipment for twenty-five thousand men, amounting in -value to no less than five million French livres, were landed on the -American coast. The joy of the colonists knew no bounds, for by this time -they were not only practically destitute of all munitions of war, but they -were quite without means of securing them. The timely arrival of these -immense cargoes permitted the vigorous carrying on of the campaign of 1777 -which ended in the decisive victory of Saratoga. This proved the -turning-point of the war. Emboldened by the success of our arms, Congress -began forming plans for urging upon the French Government the open -espousal of our cause. The delicate mission of securing this recognition -was entrusted to Franklin, while the entire hope of our ultimate victory -over the British rested with the success of his endeavors. - -Notwithstanding the victory which terminated the campaign of 1777, the -winter that followed was in reality the darkest period of the war. While -the fate of the new nation hung in the balance at the court of Versailles, -the forlorn remnant of the American Army, half-clothed and half-fed, was -wintering under the command of Washington at Valley Forge, and the -incompetent Congress, unable to supply men or money to the public cause, -was exerting what influence it possessed in undermining the authority of -Washington, the one man who in this time of general depression, by his -quiet strength and unwavering faith, was able to infuse hope and courage -into the hearts of the forlorn upholders of the cause of independence. Had -Congress possessed the power, it would have supplanted him in command by -the mock hero of Saratoga, the scheming Gates, who had succeeded in having -himself named to the command of the forces of the north, at the moment -when the scattered divisions of the army under Herkimer, Schuyler, and -Arnold, had been able to unite their forces and entrap Burgoyne at -Saratoga. The subsequent career of Gates in the South showed him to have -been a man of unprincipled character and devoid of real ability, so that -the danger to the country was very great. Fortunately Congress did not -possess this power and Washington remained Commander-in-Chief of the -American Army.[8] - -[Illustration: Palace of Versailles] - -With the spring, however, fresh hope came to the budding nation. The -winter passed so painfully at Valley Forge had not been spent in vain; the -men had grown used to camp life, and under the excellent discipline of -Baron von Steuben, they had become the nucleus of a formidable army that -was ready to take the field. With the spring, too, came news of the -alliance which Franklin had been able to consummate at the Court of -Versailles. Already victory seemed assured for the cause of independence. -Not only had the colonies become more united in interest and better -trained in the art of war, but England found herself confronted by a new -and formidable enemy which gave to the war a different aspect. Millions of -money at once began to pour into the treasury of the new nation, while -armies and fleets were sent to help fight her battles and to guard her -coasts. From this time forward, the aid rendered by France was openly -avowed; no more mystery was necessary, and the results are too generally -known to need dwelling upon here. It is sufficient to recall that after -two more years of fighting, came the brilliant victory of De Grasse over -the English fleet off Cape Henry, at the moment when Cornwallis had taken -up his position on the peninsula of Yorktown, confidently relying upon the -English supremacy of the seas; that later through the masterful tactics of -Washington, aided by the genius of Rochambeau, the combined American and -French forces were rapidly moved southward, cutting off the retreat of -Cornwallis; and two years later, that peace was declared which deprived -England of her American Colonies. - -The very important rôle played by France in this gigantic drama never has -received due recognition even in her own annals. Its significance was -dwarfed by the stupendous events which followed so soon after, known as -the French Revolution. - -Naturally England has taken little public notice of French achievement in -this war; like all nations, she dwells upon her victories more than upon -her defeats, so that the entire subject of the War of American -Independence has received scant attention from her historians. - -The conspicuous lack of recognition among Americans of the value of -French aid is certainly less pardonable. Real gratitude is so rare and -fine a quality that it is hardly to be expected from aggregates of -mankind, yet from America, indeed, we have the right to expect it, for she -is a country preëminently based upon high ideals. Her children always have -been taught to sound the praises of her national heroes, especially those -of ’76 who won for us liberty and independence. But shall America stop -here and refuse to tell them the whole truth about our national existence? -There can be no danger to the patriotism of our children in giving them a -correct idea of what we as a nation owe to France, for the actions of our -own heroes can lose none of their lustre by a generous recognition of what -we owe others. - -In giving the rising generation a true understanding of what we as -Americans owe the nation that stood by us in our time of trial, we shall -be training them to an ideal higher than that of mere patriotism, namely, -that of justice. - -A decided step in this direction was taken a few years ago, when Theodore -Roosevelt, then President of the United States, caused a statue of the -French General Rochambeau to be erected at Washington and in so doing -opened the way to a more general recognition of a great historical truth. - -In 1917, the arrival upon our shores of the Allied Missions has struck a -new note in our national consciousness. Resentment towards England has -died away long ago and warm friendship has taken its place. For France -nothing but the most enthusiastic admiration exists, and men’s minds -everywhere are opening to a new realization of the part that that country -has always played in the grand epic of human emancipation. - -But America’s debt of gratitude to France never can be fully repaid until -she has been brought to consider the claims of the one Frenchman who was -the first of all Europeans to recognize the importance of the uprising -among the colonists. This is no other than Caron de Beaumarchais, the -secret agent to whom Silas Deane had been directed by the French Ministers -in 1776. That his claim to the gratitude of Americans has so long been -neglected is due to a complexity of causes, chief of which is the fact -that not until 1886 were the archives of the French Government touching -this period, given to the public.[9] Among these archives may be found the -complete outline of the help given by France to America during the period -which elapsed between the arrival of Deane in 1776 and the open -recognition by France of American Independence in 1778, all of which aid -passed through the hands of Beaumarchais. After a careful study of these -documents it must be conceded that to him belongs the credit of having -roused the French Government to a realization of the honorable part it -might play in the great conflict. Long before the historic dinner at Metz, -where Lafayette conceived his chivalrous design, before even the Signing -of the Declaration of Independence, Beaumarchais had planned and worked -out the details of the aid to be rendered by France and then literally had -forced the cautious and conservative government of France into -acquiescence with his plans. - -The earliest authentic biography of this remarkable man was from the pen -of his ardent admirer and lifelong friend, Gudin de la Brenellerie. It was -intended to be prefixed to the first edition of the works of Beaumarchais -which appeared in 1809. This biography was suppressed, however, for Gudin, -it would seem, was an old philosopher of the eighteenth century who had -outlived his time. In writing the life of his friend, the spirit of -freedom revived in his breast. The Declaration of Independence called from -him imprudent outbursts of enthusiasm. Almost every page gave expression -to the ideas that filled men’s minds in the days before the Revolution. In -1809 such expressions were not only out of place: they were dangerous. -Madame de Beaumarchais felt that it was wiser to suppress the work, -dreading lest it should bring upon her family the hostile attention of the -emperor. It was therefore set aside. Although many of its pages afterwards -appeared in the remarkable life of Beaumarchais by Monsieur de Loménie, it -was not until many years later that Gudin’s work as a whole was given to -the public.[10] - -By far the most important of the many lives of Beaumarchais, which have -appeared, is the Study by Louis de Loménie, from unedited letters and -documents preserved in the family, which was published in 1855. In this -work Beaumarchais’s participation in the cause of American independence -was first made known to the French public. It is incomplete, however, -because in 1855 the Secret Archives of the French Government relative to -this period, were not accessible. The German biography by Bettleheim -published in 1886, lays more emphasis upon the importance of -Beaumarchais’s aid in the War of American Independence than has come from -any other recent writer. But it, too, is only fragmentary. In 1887 came -the master work by E. Lintilhac--which is chiefly, however, a critical -analysis of Beaumarchais’s literary productions, barely touching upon his -other activities, and making no attempt to penetrate his political career. -This is natural; recognition of the services rendered by Beaumarchais in -the War of Independence rightly should come first from America, since it -was primarily America that was benefited by those services. - -But until recently the Hon. John Bigelow is the only American who has -rendered anything like adequate justice to the merits of this great -Frenchman in advocating our cause. During the years that Mr. Bigelow was -minister to France, he made the acquaintance of descendants of -Beaumarchais and was given free access to family papers dealing with the -subject. In 1870, in an article entitled _Beaumarchais, The Merchant_ read -before the New York Historical Society, Mr. Bigelow says: “To him -(Beaumarchais) more than to any other person belongs the credit of making -Louis XVI comprehend the political importance of aiding the Colonies in -their struggle with Great Britain; he planned and executed the ingenious -scheme by which the aid was to be extended; he sent the first munitions of -war and supplies which the Colonists received from abroad and he sent them -too, at a time when, humanly speaking, it was reasonably certain that -without such aid from some quarter, the Colonists must have succumbed. He, -too, was mainly responsible for sending them forty or fifty superior -officers, some of whom not only rendered incalculable service in the -field, but a still greater service, perhaps, in enlisting for the Colonies -the sympathies of continental Europe.” - -In making a close survey of the part played by Beaumarchais in the cause -of American independence, it would seem that we as a nation owe to him not -only a debt of gratitude, but also one of reparation.[11] Surely this is -not because we are incapable of gratitude. The young and chivalrous -Lafayette, throwing himself heart and soul into our cause, won an undying -place in the hearts of the American people. We shall learn, however, that -even Lafayette owed something to Beaumarchais. - -Universal gratitude is felt also for the inestimable services rendered by -Baron von Steuben; and here it is primarily to Beaumarchais that we are -indebted for those services. It is easy to give honor where nothing else -is required to be paid; neither Baron von Steuben, nor any other officer, -received from us money for their services; they did not need to ask it, -for the purse of Beaumarchais was ever open to aid the friends of America -when other means were wanting; but because Beaumarchais expected tobacco -and indigo in return for the several million dollars’ worth of ammunition -and other supplies which he had furnished the American cause, he was -denied all claims to gratitude, although it was his own boundless energy -and enterprise that had overcome all obstacles in sending those supplies -upon which success depended. More than this, his financial claims were -long ignored and he himself was stamped with the character of a dishonest -adventurer. - -It cannot be denied, however, that Beaumarchais’s own character lent -itself to misrepresentation. The very brilliancy and versatility of his -genius was a snare to him, while the expansiveness of his nature gave such -an air of adventure to his most sober acts, that they often were -regarded with suspicion by those whom he most desired to serve. The -misunderstandings which arose from these innate qualities were keenly felt -by Beaumarchais. Moreover, he early realized that the ministry, while -making use of his rare abilities, intended to keep him in the background. -Beaumarchais was neither willing to forego recognition nor resigned to the -obscurity in which he was left. The gay philosophy of his nature enabled -him to laugh at his misfortunes, although it was only as he himself has -said through his creation, _Figaro_, “that he might not be obliged to -weep.” Stung to the quick on finding himself thrust aside in the midst of -his almost superhuman exertions in the American cause, he turned for -relief to lighter matters and found distraction by writing _Le Mariage de -Figaro_, the gayest comedy perhaps ever put upon the stage, and one so -full of political significance that it was condemned by the authorities, -though in the end he succeeded in bringing it before the public, in spite -of the King and his ministers. Such a man was Beaumarchais, that it is no -wonder that he failed to receive recognition for his serious labors, or -that many people refused to believe him in earnest at all. If his own -nation regarded him somewhat in the light of an adventurer, surely the men -of the New World, bred in stern necessity, accustomed to deal only with -hard facts and unyielding realities, may be judged with less severity if -they failed in comprehending the true nature of their benefactor and -friend. He himself was the first to forgive them, and no spirit of enmity -or personal resentment was ever to be observed in his subsequent attitude -towards them. To the end he called them “My friends, the free men of -America.” - -When, during the French Revolution, Beaumarchais, finding himself an -exile, reduced to a beggarly garret in an obscure quarter of Hamburg while -his wife, his daughter, and his sisters were languishing in a French -prison, his property confiscated, and his credit ruined, addressed a final -desperate appeal to the American people, begging for justice, not a voice -was raised in his favor. Since Robert Morris, the Philadelphia financier, -was allowed to remain for years in a debtor’s prison, it is not surprising -that little interest was roused by the claims of a foreigner, in whose -existence even, people refused seriously to believe. - -Tardy and very partial justice was at last rendered the heirs of -Beaumarchais by the United States Government, when in 1835 their claims -were settled by the payment of a portion of the debt owed to him; but as a -personality he still remains unknown to us. The study which follows aims -at portraying this unusual character in its true colors; it does not -attempt to make of him an ideal hero, faultless and blameless; but it -endeavors to show him as he was, full of violent contrasts, of limitless -resource and energy, raising constantly about him a whirlwind of -opposition, loved by his family and friends, hated by those whom he -outstripped in the rapidity of his advancement, plunging from one gigantic -enterprise into another, never at rest; ready at all times to come to the -aid of distress which presented itself in any form, entering with -sympathetic interest into the minutest details, always with time for -everything, but above all, with persistent determination demanding -justice, and in the pursuit of this aim, rousing the antagonism of all -classes; attacking fearlessly time-honored institutions,--literary, social -and judicial,--so that he becomes one of the most powerful undermining -forces which finally brought about the total collapse of the old regime. - -In his adventurous career, the part which he played in the War of American -Independence forms but an incident. Though the primary object of this book -is to show what that part really was, yet it is necessary to study his -life and character in order to understand why Beaumarchais was interested -in our cause, and how it came about that he was able to render us such -signal service. - - - FOOTNOTES: - -[1] See Bancroft, Vol. III, p. 62. - -[2] See John Fiske’s _American Revolution_, Vol. I, p. 244. - -[3] J. Fiske’s _American Revolution_, Vol. I, p. 243. - -[4] J. Fiske’s _American Revolution_, Vol. II, pp. 27-32. - -[5] H. Doniol, Vol. I, p. 129. - -[6] See Turgot’s Address to the King; Bancroft, Vol. IV, p. 369. - -[7] See Durand’s _New Material for the History of the American -Revolution_, p. 6. - -[8] For an account of the cabal formed for replacing Washington in his -command, see Fiske’s _American Revolution_, Vol. II, p. 32. - -[9] H. Doniol, _La Participation de la France dans l’établissement des -Etats-Unis_, Paris, ’86-’92, in five folio volumes. - -[10] _Histoire de Beaumarchais_, by Paul Philippe Gudin de la Brenellerie. -Edited by Maurice Tourneux, Paris, 1888. - -[11] A similar debt of reparation is still owed by America to the memory -of Silas Deane. As his part in the great conflict was closely interwoven -with that of Beaumarchais, the suspicions that fell upon one were -necessarily shared by the other--and both rested under the same -impossibility of justifying themselves before the world. The publication -of the French archives has done for both men what they could not do for -themselves, and though the treatment accorded Silas Deane by Congress -drove him to such despondency that he subsequently lost faith in the -American cause, no shadow rests upon the patriotism which inspired his -early efforts in that cause. Charlemagne Tower, Jr., in his _The Marquis -de La Fayette in the American Revolution_ has given to the public all the -essential documents which show the claim to gratitude which Silas Deane -has upon the American people. - - - - - BEAUMARCHAIS - - _And the War of American Independence_ - - - - - CHAPTER I - -_“Je passe encore sous silence la scène dégoûtante entre deux hommes où -vous vous êtes égaré jusqu’à me reprocher que je n’étais que le fils d’un -horloger. Moi qui m’honore de mes parents....”_ - - _Beaumarchais au Duc de Chaulnes, 1771_ - - Early life--Trained by his Father to the Trade of Watchmaker-- - Invents an Escapement for Watches--First Lawsuit--_Horloger - du Roi_--Enters the Court of Versailles as _Contrôleur clerc - d’office_--First Marriage--Assumes the Name of Beaumarchais-- - Death of his Wife--Becomes Music Master to the Princesses of - France--Attracts the Attention of Paris du Verney - - -It was on the twenty-fourth day of January, 1732, in an inconspicuous -watchmaker’s shop on the rue St. Denis in Paris, that the child first saw -the light who was baptized Pierre-August and whose family name was Caron. -He was the seventh of ten children, six of whom were girls, but as his -brothers all died in infancy he was the only son of the household and -consequently its idol. - -Formed by nature for fun and frolic, the little “Pierrot” as he was called -had the merriest possible childhood. His mother gentle, loving, and -indulgent shielded her favorite from his father, who at times was somewhat -stern, while his elder sisters petted and spoiled him, and the younger -ones entered heartily into his games and pastimes. Two of the girls were -younger than he, the one nearest his age, Julie, was his favorite, and was -also the one who most resembled him by her talents and her native wit and -gaiety. It is from her pen that we have most of the details of their early -life. In some of her youthful rhymes Julie tells us how “Pierrot” -commanded a band of little good-for-nothings, roving about either to -plunder the larder of Margot, the cook, or returning at night to disturb -the slumber of the peaceful inhabitants of the rue St. Denis. Again in -inharmonious verse she recounts how-- - - “_Upon an incommodious seat - Arranged in form of a pagoda - Caron presents a magistrate, - By his huge wig and linen collar. - Each one pleads with might and main, - Before that judge inexorable - That nothing will appease, - Whose only pleasure is to rain - Upon his clients ever pleading - Blows of fist and tongs and shovel; - And the hearing never ends, - Till wigs and bonnets roll away - In dire confusion and disorder._” - -But it must not be thought that the elder Caron approved of too much -levity. Although he was himself witty and gifted with a keen literary and -artistic sense, he was above all a serious man with an earnest purpose in -life. He was descended from Huguenot ancestors who had managed to live in -France after the revocation of the Edict of Nantes, although they no -longer possessed a legal existence. Their religious exercises were -performed in caves or dark woods or in some desert spot. Here their -marriages were solemnized by wandering ministers. The grandparents of -Pierre-August, Daniel Caron and Marie Fortain, had been thus united, but -their son, André-Charles Caron, shortly before his marriage with Louise -Picheon in 1722, abjured his faith and joined himself to the Catholic -Church. He retained, however, his Calvinistic character. - -André-Charles Caron, like his father, was a watchmaker by profession. He -was one of those exquisitely skilled French workmen who had done so much -for the advancement of science in their own country, and who, when driven -into exile, made the fortune of the people among whom they sought refuge, -notably the Swiss. Not content with the exercise of his profession alone, -the penetrating mind of André-Charles Caron led him into extensive -scientific investigations so that he came to be looked upon as an -authority in many branches of mechanics. - -At ten years of age the young Pierre-August was sent by his father to a -professional school at Alfort, where he learned the rudiments of Latin, -but three years later his father brought him home intent on his becoming a -watchmaker. - -In the years that followed there was a period of stress and storm during -which father and son wrestled for mastery. Always when the latter worked -he showed a dexterity of touch, an ingenuity of invention which astonished -the father; but, on the other hand, his escapades away from home were the -despair of the stern watchmaker. The young Caron, full of wit, of song, -skillful in tricks and gay of humor, attracted a following of youths whose -tendencies were toward a loose life and low morals. - -For five long years the struggle continued between the father and his -brilliantly gifted son. Promises of amendment on the one hand and paternal -pardon on the other had led to nothing. Finally, since remonstrance proved -in vain, the elder Caron resorted to sterner measures: he turned his son -into the street and closed his doors against him. He left open to the boy, -nevertheless, one way of return. Friends of the family in secret -communication received the lad, who soon showed a sincere desire to be -restored to the good graces of his father. The Père Caron, at first -inexorable, at length relented so far as to write the following letter, -which is still in existence: - -“I have read and re-read your letter. M. Cottin has shown me the one which -you have written to him. They seem to me wise and reasonable. The -sentiments which you therein express would be entirely to my taste if it -were in my power to believe them durable, for I suppose that they possess -a degree of sincerity with which I should be satisfied. But your great -misfortune consists in having entirely lost my confidence; nevertheless, -the friendship and esteem which I entertain for the three respectable -friends whom you have employed, the gratitude which I owe them for their -kindness to you, force from me my consent in spite of myself, although I -believe there are four chances to one against your fulfilling your -promises. From this, you will judge the irreparable stain upon your -reputation if you again force me to drive you away. - -“Understand then thoroughly the conditions upon which you will be allowed -to return; ... I require full and entire submission to my will and a -marked respect in words, actions, and expression of countenance; do not -forget that unless you employ as much art to please me as you have shown -in gaining my friends, you hold nothing, absolutely nothing, and you have -only worked to your harm. It is not simply that I wish to be obeyed and -respected, but you shall anticipate in everything that which you imagine -will please me. - -“In regard to your mother, who has twenty times in the past fortnight -implored me to take you back, I will put off to a private conversation on -your return what I have to say to make you thoroughly understand all the -affection and solicitude which you owe to her. Here then are the -conditions of your return: - -“First,--you shall neither make nor sell, nor cause to be made or sold, -directly or indirectly, anything which is not for my account; and you -shall succumb no more to the temptation of appropriating to yourself -anything, even the smallest matter, above that which I give you. You shall -receive no watch to be repaired under any pretext whatever, or for any -friend, no matter whom, without notifying me; you shall never touch -anything without my express permission--you shall not even sell an old -watch key without accounting for it to me. - -“Second,--you shall rise at six o’clock in the summer and at seven in the -winter and you shall work till suppertime without repugnance at whatever I -give you to do; I do not propose that you shall employ the faculties which -God has given you, except to become celebrated in your profession. -Remember that it is shameful and dishonorable to be the last and that if -you do not become the first in your profession, you are unworthy of any -consideration; the love of so beautiful a calling should penetrate your -heart, and be the unique occupation of your mind. - -“Third,--you shall take your suppers always at home, and shall not go out -evenings; the suppers and evenings abroad are too dangerous for you, but I -consent that you dine Sundays and holidays with your friends, on condition -that I know always to whom you are going and that you are absolutely never -later than nine o’clock. And furthermore I exhort you never to ask -permission contrary to this article and I advise you not to take it to -yourself. - -“Fourth,--you shall abandon totally your _maudite musique_, and above all -the company of idle people. I will not suffer any of them. The one and the -other have brought you to what you are. Nevertheless, in consideration of -your weakness, I permit the violin and the flute, but on the express -condition that you never use them except after supper on working days, and -never during the day; and you also never shall disturb the repose of the -neighbors, or my own. - -“Fifth,--I shall avoid as far as possible sending you on errands, but in -cases where I shall be obliged to do so, remember that above everything -else I shall accept no poor excuses for your being late. You know in -advance how much this article is revolting to me. - -“Sixth,--I will give you your board and eighteen livres a month which will -serve for your expenses and little by little enable you to pay your debts. -It would be too dangerous for your character and very improper in me to -count with you the price of your work and require you to pay me board. If -you devote yourself as you should, with the greatest zeal to the -improvement of my business, and if by your talents you procure me more, I -will give you a fourth part of the profits of all that comes to me through -you. You know my way of thinking; you have experienced that I never allow -myself to be surpassed in generosity; merit therefore that I do more for -you than I promise; but remember that I give nothing for words, that I -accept only actions. - -“If my conditions suit you--if you feel strong enough to execute them in -good faith, accept them and sign your acceptance at the bottom of this -letter which you shall return to me; in that case assure M. Paignon of my -sincere esteem and of my gratitude; say to him that I shall have the honor -of seeing him and of asking him to dinner to-morrow, so dispose yourself -to return with me to take the place which I was very far from believing -you would occupy so soon, and perhaps never.” - -Beneath is written: - -“Monsieur, very honored, dear father;--I sign all your conditions in the -firm desire to execute them with the help of the Lord; but how sadly all -this recalls to me a time when such laws and such ceremonies were -unnecessary to engage me to do my duty! It is right that I suffer the -humiliation that I have justly merited, and if all this, joined to my good -conduct, may procure for me and merit entirely the return of your good -graces and of your friendship, I shall be only too happy. In faith of -which, I sign all that is contained in this letter. - - A. Caron, _fils_” - -During the three years which followed the young man’s return to his -father’s house he made such rapid progress in the art of watchmaking that -we find him in 1753 making his first appearance in public in the defense -of an escapement for watches of which he claimed to be the inventor. - -In the December number of _Le Mercure_ of that year, the following letter -was published, which needs no commentary to show how thoroughly his -father’s conditions had been understood by the youthful genius and with -what serious purpose he had set to work. - -“I have read, Monsieur,” he says, “with the greatest astonishment, in your -September number, that M. Lepaute, watchmaker to the Luxembourg, there -announces as his invention, a new escapement for watches and clocks which -he says he has the honor of presenting to the King and to the Academy. - -“It is of too much importance to me in the interests of truth and of my -reputation to permit him to claim this invention by remaining silent on -the subject of a breach of faith. - -“It is true that on the 23rd of July last, in the joy of my discovery I -had the weakness to confide this escapement to M. Lepaute, allowing him to -make use of it in a clock which M. de Julienne had ordered of him, and -whose interior he assured me would be examined by no one, because of the -arrangement for winding of his own invention, and he alone had the key to -the clock. - -“But how could I imagine that M. Lepaute would ever undertake to -appropriate to himself this escapement which it will be seen I confided to -him under the seal of secrecy? - -“I have no desire to take the public by surprise, and I have no intention -to attempt to range it on my side by this simple statement of my case; but -I earnestly beg that no more credence be extended to M. Lepaute than to -me, until the Academy shall have decided who is the author of the new -escapement. M. Lepaute evidently wishes to avoid all explanation, for he -declares that his escapement resembles mine in no way; but from the -announcement which he makes, I judge that it is entirely conformable to it -in principle. - -“Should the commissioners which the Academy names discover a difference it -will be found to proceed merely from some fault in his construction, which -will help to expose the plagiarism. - -“I will not here give any of my proofs; our commissioners must receive -them in their first form; therefore whatever M. Lepaute may say or write -against me, I shall maintain a profound silence, until the Academy is -informed and has decided. - -“The judicious public will be so good as to wait until then; I hope this -favor from their equity, and from the protection which they have always -given the arts. I dare flatter myself, Monsieur, that you will be kind -enough to insert this letter in your next issue. - - “Caron, son, watchmaker, rue St. Denis, near Sainte-Catherine, - Paris, November 15th, 1753.” - -Two days before the writing of this letter the ardent young inventor had -addressed a lengthy petition to the Royal Academy of Sciences, in which -the following passage occurs, permitting us to judge how completely -watchmaking had become, as the father had hoped, the sole occupation of -his son’s mind. He says: “Instructed by my father since the age of -thirteen in the art of watchmaking, and animated by his example and -counsels to occupy myself seriously with the perfecting of the art, it -will not be thought surprising that from my nineteenth year, I have -endeavored to distinguish myself therein, and to merit the public esteem. -Escapements were the first object of my reflections. To diminish their -defects, simplify and perfect them, became the spur which excited my -ambition.... But what sorrow for me if M. Lepaute succeeds in taking from -me the honor of a discovery which the Academy would have crowned! I do -not speak of the calumnies which M. Lepaute has written and circulated -against my father and me, they show a desperate cause and cover their -author with confusion. It is sufficient for the present that your -judgment, Gentlemen, assures to me the honor which my adversary wishes to -take from me, but which I hope to receive from your equity and from your -insight. - - Caron, _fils_ - At Paris, November 13th, 1753” - -The following February, two commissioners were appointed to investigate -the matter. In the registry of the Royal Academy of Sciences, under the -date of February 23rd, 1754, a lengthy report is given, a short extract -from which will suffice to show the results of the investigation. - -“We therefore believe that the Academy should regard M. Caron as the true -inventor of the new escapement and that M. Lepaute has only imitated the -invention; that the escapement of the clock presented to the Royal Academy -on the 4th of August by Lepaute, is a natural consequence of the -escapement for watches of M. Caron; that in its application to clocks, -this escapement is inferior to that of Grabain, but that it is in watches -the _most perfect that has been produced_, although it is the most -difficult to execute.” - - Signed, “Camus and de Montigny.” - -“The Academy has confirmed this judgment in its assemblies of the 20th and -the 23rd of February. In consequence of which I have delivered to M. Caron -the present certificate with a copy of the report, conformable with the -deliberations of March 2nd at Paris.” - - This, March 4, 1754-- - Signed, “Grand-Jean de Fouchy, Perpetual - Secretary of the Royal Academy of Sciences.” - -This lawsuit from which the young watchmaker issued triumphant, proved for -him a valuable piece of advertising, for it gained him the attention of -the king himself who happened to have a passion for novel devices in -time-pieces. It was not long before the young Caron received an order from -His Majesty to make for him a watch having the new escapement. - -In a letter to a cousin in London dated July 31st, 1754, less than five -months after receiving the certificate, he writes: - -“I have at last delivered the watch to the King by whom I had the -happiness to be recognized at once, and who remembered my name. His -Majesty ordered me to show the watch to all the noblemen at the levée and -never was artist received with so much kindness. His Majesty wished to -enter into the minutest details of my invention. The watch in a ring for -Madame de Pompadour is only four lines in diameter; it was very much -admired although it is not entirely finished. The King asked me to make a -repeater for him in the same style. All the noblemen present followed the -example of the king and each wishes to be served first. I have also made a -curious little clock for Madame Victoire in the style of my watches; the -King wished to make her a present of it. It has two dials, and to whatever -side one turns, the hours always can be seen. - -“Remember, my dear cousin, that this is the young man whom you have taken -under your protection and that it is through your kindness that he hopes -to become a member of the London Society.” - -Even as late as June 16th, 1755, the ambition of the young watchmaker had -not extended itself as is clearly shown in a letter addressed to _Le -Mercure_ by the young _horloger du roi_ as he now styles himself. In this -letter he modestly defends himself against the envy which his success has -awakened. He writes: - -“Monsieur, I am a young artist who has only the honor of being known to -the public by a new escapement for watches which the Academy has crowned -with its approbation and of which the journals have spoken a year ago. -_This success fixes me to the state of watchmaker, and I limit my whole -ambition to acquiring the science of my art._ I never have thrown an -envious eye upon the productions of others of my profession, but it is -with great impatience that I see others attempting to take from me the -foundation which by study and work I have acquired. It is this heat of the -blood, which I very much fear age will never correct, that made me defend -with so much ardor the just pretentions which I had to the invention of my -escapement when it was contested eighteen months ago. Will you allow me to -reply to certain objections to my escapement which in numerous writings -have been made public? It is said that the use of this escapement renders -it impossible to make flat watches, or even small ones, which if it were -true would make the best escapement known very unsatisfactory.” - -After giving numerous technical details the young watchmaker terminates -thus: “By this means I make watches as thin as may be desired, thinner -even than have before been made, without in the least diminishing their -good quality. The first of these simplified watches is in the hands of the -king. His Majesty has carried it for a year and is well satisfied. If -these facts reply to the first objection, others reply equally to the -second. I had the honor to present to Madame de Pompadour a short time ago -a watch in a ring, which is only four lines and a half in diameter and a -line less a third in thickness between the plates. To render this ring -more convenient I contrived in place of a key a circle which surrounds the -dial plate bearing a tiny projecting hook. By drawing this hook with the -finger nail about two-thirds of the circuit of the dial the watch is wound -up and goes thirty hours. Before taking it to her I watched this ring -follow exactly for five days the second hand of my chronometer; thus in -making use of my escapement and my construction, excellent watches can be -made as thin and as small as may be desired. - - “I have the honor to be, etc., - Caron, _fils, horloger du roi_.” - -Although the vision of the young man was still hemmed in by the walls of -his father’s shop, yet his ardent spirit was eager for flight and was -waiting only for opportunity to test its powers. He was now twenty-three -years of age; the unparalleled success which had attended his efforts had -taught even the stern father the need of a wider field for the genius -which had so easily outstripped him in his own calling. Satisfied now with -the solid foundation in character which his own hand had helped to lay he -had no desire to stand in the way of his son’s advancement. As not -infrequently happens, it was a woman’s hand that opened the door and -liberated the captive. Speaking of this period, his friend Gudin says: -“Attracted by the celebrity of his academic triumph, a beautiful woman -brought a watch to his father’s shop, either to have it repaired, or -perhaps with the design of meeting the young artist of whom so much was -said. The young man solicited the honor of returning the watch as soon as -he had repaired the disorder, and this event, which seemed so commonplace, -changed the purpose of his life and gave it a new meaning. - -“The husband of this woman was an old man possessed of a very small -office at court, whose age and infirmities almost incapacitated him for -the performance of his duties, he therefore sought to pass them on to the -young Caron.” - -Here indeed was an opening which, if embraced, would lead him into a world -wholly outside that by which heretofore he had been surrounded. It meant -for him opportunity. Instantly all the latent desires within him surged -into consciousness. Springing with joy from the low bench of his father’s -dimly lighted shop, the youthful genius cast forever aside his workman’s -frock and with one bound entered the service of the king, becoming an -inmate of the vast and splendid palace of Versailles. - -November 9, 1755, a warrant was issued in the name of Louis XV, King of -France from which the following is an extract: - -“Great Stewards of France, high stewards and ordinary stewards of our -household, masters and controllers of our pantry and account room, -greetings! Upon good and praiseworthy report which has been made to us of -the person of M. Pierre-August Caron, and his zeal in our service, we have -this day appointed him and by these presents, signed with our hand do -appoint him to the office of one of our _clerc-contrôleurs_ of the pantry -of our household, vacant by the dismission of Pierre-August Franquet, last -possessor thereof, that he may have and exercise, enjoy and use, the -honors, authorities, prerogatives, privileges, liberties, salary, rights, -etc. - - “Given at Versailles under the seal of our secret, - Louis.” - -[Illustration: Louis XV] - -The exchange being thus officially made, Pierre-August Franquet, the aged -man in question, ceded his office, and in return was to receive a yearly -pension which was guaranteed by the elder watchmaker. Although this -office was too insignificant to admit its possessor to the dignity of -bearing a title of nobility, yet certain it is that in his own estimation -at least, the brilliant young _contrôleur_ of the pantry was already a -member of the aristocracy and with the same ardor which he had shown at -watchmaking, he set about acquiring at once, and to perfection, all the -external marks of one born to that station. - -His duties as _contrôleur clerc d’office_ were not arduous; he was one of -sixteen similar _contrôleurs_ who served the king’s table, four at a time, -alternating quarterly. His duty was to walk in grand livery, his sword by -his side, in the long procession which preceded the king’s meat; when -arrived at the table, he took the platter and placed it before the king. -Ample time was thus left him to develop those graces of mind and of person -which nature had so lavishly bestowed upon him. For the first time he -began to feel the lack of that classical education which had been denied -him in his youth. The practical training which he had acquired under his -father’s roof enabled him, however, readily to turn the force of his -intellect in this new direction, so that in an incredibly short time he -acquired such a knowledge of literature, grammar, geography, history, and -geometry as served for the basis of the important literary work he was -afterward to accomplish. - -Amongst the vast collection of manuscripts from the pen of Beaumarchais -left after his death, M. de Loménie discovered very many belonging to this -period which show that the young _contrôleur_ of the pantry already was -exercising himself in the art of writing and that from the first he formed -the habit of noting as he read such passages as struck him forcibly, to -which he freely added impressions of his own. - -But the many-sided nature of the young man did not permit him to indulge -exclusively his taste for study. The gay world into which he had entered -enlisted much of his time and talents although it never absorbed them. It -gave him the opportunity of cultivating his rare social gifts which he -soon learned to display to advantage. As soon as Beaumarchais appeared at -Versailles, to quote Gudin, “The ladies were struck with his high stature, -the elegance of his form, the regularity of his features, his vivid and -animated countenance, the assurance of his look, with that dominating air -which seemed to elevate him above all his surroundings, and, in a word, -with that involuntary ardor which illuminated him at their approach.” But -he adds, “Before going farther let us observe that it was in the workshop -of his father that his soul was made strong and inaccessible to vice or -adversity. If he had been born in luxury or grandeur it would have been -softened like wax in the rays of the sun.” - -Less than two months after relinquishing his duties at court, -Pierre-August Franquet died suddenly of apoplexy leaving his widow a -considerable fortune. Before the year was out she consoled herself by -marrying the brilliant young _contrôleur_, although she was six years his -senior. Thus it would seem that the young man was at last settled in his -career, having a beautiful wife who idolized him, and a sufficient fortune -at his disposal. Their married happiness, however, was of short duration. -In less than a year she was attacked by typhoid fever and died after a -short sickness, although attended by four of the best physicians of the -capital. - -Gudin, in speaking of her sudden death, says that Beaumarchais was at that -time so inexperienced in the ways of the world and so grieved at the loss -of his wife that he allowed the term permitted by law to expire before he -thought of taking steps to secure to himself the succession to his wife’s -property, so that after her death he was reduced to the small income from -his office at court; and it would seem that he never gained from this -connection any material advantage except his footing at court and the name -of Beaumarchais which he took from a small landed property belonging to -his wife and which was in itself a fortune. At twenty-five we find him -again free and awaiting eagerly the opportunity to push his fortunes -further. He had not long to wait. - -We have seen already that Beaumarchais was very fond of music and that -according to his father it was this same _maudite musique_ that had in his -early youth brought him so near the brink of ruin. Little did his father -dream that this was to become later the means of his son’s most rapid -advancement. - -Gudin says: “He loved music and played upon several instruments, amongst -others the harp and the flute. The harp was at that time disdained, but -when Beaumarchais applied to it his mechanical knowledge, he perfected it -and brought it into vogue. - -“Having won a wide celebrity by performances in numerous salons at Paris -and Versailles, the fame of his skill reached the ears of the Princesses -of France, who were four in number and who all had a taste for music. - -“They desired to hear the young musician, who was only too flattered to be -permitted to play before them.” - -The dignity and charm of his person, his manners which though polished and -respectful retained a certain frankness such as rarely penetrated to those -august presences, joined to his brilliant talents, completely won for him -the favor of Mesdames who insisted upon being permitted to have -Beaumarchais for their instructor. From this moment, dates what in a -certain sense might almost be called an intimacy between the young man who -was so recently seated on his workman’s bench behind the window looking -out on the rue St. Denis and the four Princesses who were separated by so -profound a gulf from even the highest of the nobility in the court about -them. It must be understood that these women took no part whatever in the -gay licentious existence which disgraced the court of their father, Louis -XV. Trained by their mother, the admirable Queen Marie Leczinska, to a -life of sincere piety, they passed their time with her in the performance -of the really arduous duties of their rank. As queen and daughters of -France they belonged to the nation and not to themselves. So long as they -performed these duties, the nation cheerfully allowed them the -prerogatives of their rank, and the means of gratifying their luxurious -tastes. - -[Illustration: Marie Leczinska, Wife of Louis XV] - -It was therefore into this august family circle that Beaumarchais entered, -to be for several years the central figure of all its pastimes and -amusements. Gudin tells us that at this time Mesdames were in the habit of -giving a weekly concert at which the King, Queen and Dauphin were present -and to which a very select company was invited. - -These concerts were arranged and superintended by Beaumarchais who seems -to have been treated by all with marked favor and esteem. The Dauphin took -great pleasure in his company, and on one occasion said of him, “He is the -only man who speaks frankly with me.” The Dauphin, as is well known, was -of an austere nature, and for that reason, doubtless, valued the honest -character of Beaumarchais at its true worth. - -In dealing with his royal pupils, Beaumarchais exercised great tact and -knew how to make them satisfied with themselves and with him. La Harpe -says of him: “I have seen few men more favored by nature. His countenance -and the tone of his voice were equally ardent, the former illuminated by -eyes full of fire; there was as much expression in the accent and the -look, as delicacy in the smile, and above all, a kind of assurance which -was inspired by a consciousness of power.” - -These personal gifts, this assurance and skill, even more than the favor -of Mesdames, quickly attracted to him the enmity of those whose high birth -alone assured them a reception at court. No better idea of the snares set -for him, nor of his skill in avoiding them can be given than by quoting a -few pages from Gudin. - -“One morning as he presented himself to be admitted to Mesdames, one of -their women ran to meet him. - -“‘Oh my dear friend you are lost, some one has persuaded Mesdames that you -are on very bad terms with your father, that he has driven you from his -house and that, indignant at the tricks you have played him, he will not -see you any more.’ - -“‘Oh, is that all? Then I do not count myself dead. Don’t disturb -yourself.’ He said this and hurried back to Paris. - -“‘You have always wished to see Versailles; I have an excellent -opportunity to-day to show you the palace in detail.’ Father and son then -returned with all possible speed. Beaumarchais took pains that they should -be seen by the Princesses at the celebration of the mass, at their dinner, -at their promenade, everywhere they were to be found. - -“In the evening, still accompanied by his father, whom he left in an -ante-chamber, he entered the apartments of the Princesses; he found them -cold, dreamy, embarrassed, and not wanting to look at him, trying to show -more annoyance than they really felt. - -“The most vivacious of them said to him with impatience, ‘With whom have -you been all day?’ - -“‘Madame, with my father.’ - -“‘His father, Adelaide, that isn’t possible, we were told that they had -quarreled.’ - -“‘I, Madame. I pass my life with him. He is in the ante-room--I have come -for your orders; he is waiting for me, if you will deign to see him he -will testify to the attachment which I have never ceased to have for -him.’” - -The Princesses, as Beaumarchais had well guessed, were anxious to see the -father of their instructor and he was bidden to enter. As the elder Caron -possessed, amongst his other qualities, scarcely less sense of a situation -and power of adaptability than his son, he was at once at his ease. His -personal dignity and sincerity of manner could not fail to produce a -pleasing impression upon the young women who, as we have seen, demanded -merit as the ground of their favor, so that in its results this intrigue -which was intended to ruin the young man, really served to heighten the -esteem in which he was held. - -At another time on leaving their apartments, Beaumarchais was intercepted -by a crowd of youthful noblemen one of whom had wagered to cover him with -confusion. Approaching him, the nobleman said,--to quote from Gudin, -“‘Monsieur, you who are so clever with watches, will you tell me if this -is a good one?’ - -“‘Monsieur,’ replied Beaumarchais, looking at the company, ‘since I have -ceased to work at that trade I have become very awkward.’ - -“‘Ah, Monsieur, do not refuse me.’ - -“‘Very well, but I warn you that I have lost my art.’ Then taking the -watch he opened it, raised it in the air feigning to examine it, and -suddenly let it fall from that elevation; then, making a profound -reverence, he said, ‘I warned you, Monsieur, of my extreme awkwardness,’ -and walked away leaving his provoker to gather up the debris of his watch -while the assembly burst into laughter.” - -But the insults did not stop here. - -They became so frequent and their tone grew so malignant that Beaumarchais -felt the time had come to put a stop to them. Seriously outraged by a -courtier whom Gudin calls the Chevalier du C---- he accepted the -provocation. - -They mounted their horses and rode off to a secluded spot in the woods -behind Meudon. In the words of Gudin, “Beaumarchais had the sad advantage -of plunging his sword into the bosom of his adversary; but when on -withdrawing it he saw the blood issue in a copious stream he was seized -with terror and thought of nothing but helping him. He took his -handkerchief and attached it as well as he could over the wound, to arrest -the flow of blood and to stop fainting. - -“‘Save yourself,’ said the fallen man, ‘you are lost if any one sees you, -if any one learns that it is you who have taken my life.’ - -“‘You must have help, I will get it for you’--Beaumarchais mounted and -rode to Meudon, found a surgeon, and indicating the spot to him, where the -wounded man lay, he went off at full gallop to Paris to see what was to be -done. His first care was to inform himself if the Chevalier du C---- still -lived. He found that he had been brought to Paris but that his life was -despaired of--he learned that the sick man refused to name the one who had -wounded him so seriously. - -“‘I have only what I merit,’ he said. ‘I have provoked an honest man who -never gave me any offense, to please people whom I do not esteem.’ - -“His relatives and friends were not able to draw any other reply from him -during the eight days which he lived. He carried the secret to the tomb, -leaving to Beaumarchais the regret of having taken the life of a man who -proved so generous an enemy. - -“‘Ah, young man,’ Beaumarchais said to me one day when I was joking over -some duel which was then much talked about, ‘you do not know what despair -a man feels when he sees the hilt of his sword upon his enemy’s breast!’ -It was then that he related to me this adventure which was still -afflicting him, although many years had elapsed since it had taken place. -He never spoke of it without grief, and I should probably never have heard -of it, if he had not thought it right to make me feel how dangerous it -might be to joke about such fatal affairs, the number of which is -increased much more by frivolity than by bravery.” - -It may be well to add, in relation to the death of the Chevalier du -C---- that the protection of Mesdames, who personally interceded with the -King, prevented an investigation being made so that Beaumarchais was -secure. - -But while he was still holding his own in the envious crowd of courtiers -at Versailles, his position was in reality far from desirable. Monsieur de -Loménie says: “Having no other resource than the small income from his -charge of _contrôleur_, not only was he obliged to put his time -gratuitously at the disposal of the Princesses, without speaking of the -cost of keeping up appearances, but he even at times found himself under -the necessity of proceeding like a great lord, and of making advances for -the purchase of costly instruments which they scarcely thought of promptly -paying back. Very desirous of enriching himself, he was too clever to -compromise his credit by receiving pecuniary recompense, which would have -put him in the rank of a mercenary; he preferred to wait for some -favorable occasion, when he might obtain a real advantage from his -position, reserving the right to say later: ‘I have passed four years in -meriting the good graces of Mesdames by the most assiduous and most -disinterested pains bestowed upon divers objects of their amusements.’ - -“But Mesdames, like all other women and especially princesses, had -sufficiently varied fancies which it was necessary to satisfy immediately. -In the correspondence of Mme. du Deffant is the very amusing story of a -box of candied quinces of Orleans, so impatiently demanded by Madame -Victoire that the King, her father, sent in haste to the minister, M. de -Choiseul, who sent to the Bishop of Orleans, who was awakened at three -o’clock in the morning to give him, to his great affright, a missive from -the King, running as follows: - -“‘Monsieur the bishop of Orleans, my daughters wish some _cotignac_; they -wish the very small boxes; send some. If you have none, I beg you ... [in -this place in the letter there was a drawing of a Sedan chair, and below] -to send immediately into your episcopal city and get some, and be sure -that they are the very small boxes; upon which, Monsieur the bishop of -Orleans, may God have you in His holy keeping. Louis.’ Below in -postscriptum is written: ‘The sedan chair, means nothing, it was designed -by my girls upon the paper which I found at hand.’ A courier was -immediately dispatched for Orleans. ‘The _cotignac_,’ says Madame du -Deffant, ‘arrived the next day, but no one thought anything more of it.’ - -“It often happened that Beaumarchais received missives that recalled -somewhat the history of the _cotignac_, with this difference, that the -young and poor master of music, had not, like the bishop of Orleans, a -courier at his disposal. Here, for example, is a letter addressed to him -by the first lady in waiting of Madame Victoire: - -“‘Madame Victoire has a taste, Monsieur, to play to-day on the tambourine, -and charges me to write instantly that you may get her one as quickly as -will be possible. I hope, Monsieur, that your cold has disappeared and -that you will be able to attend promptly to the commission of Madame. I -have the honor of being very perfectly, Monsieur, your very humble -servant, - - De Boucheman Coustillier.’ - -“It became necessary instantly to procure a tambourine worthy to be -offered to a princess; the next day it was a harp; the day after a flute; -and so on and so on.” - -When the young Beaumarchais had completely exhausted his purse, very thin -at that time, he very humbly sent his note to Mme. Hoppen, the stewardess -of Mesdames, accompanying it with reflections of which the following is a -sample: - -“I beg you, Madame, to be so good as to pay attention to the fact that I -have engaged myself for the payment of 844 livres, not being able to -advance them, because I have given all the money that I had, and I beg you -not to forget that I am in consequence, absolutely without a sol. - - Besides the 1852 livres - Madame Victoire owes me 15 " - Then for the book bound in morocco with her - arms and gilded 36 " - And for copying the music into said book 36 " - ------ - Total 1939 livres - -Which makes a sum of 80 louis, 19 livres. - -“I do not count the cab fares which it cost me to go among the different -workmen, who nearly all live in the suburbs, nor for the messages which -all this occasioned, because I have never had the habit of making a note -of these things or of counting them with Mesdames. Don’t forget, I beg you -that Madame Sophie owes me five louis; in a time of misery one collects -the smallest things. - -“You know the respect and attachment which I have for you. I will not add -another word.” - -Four years spent in petty services of this kind was a severe test to the -earnestness of purpose of a man fired with lofty ambitions and full of -restless energy. Although at times suffering from secret irritation he -remained master of himself and steadily refused to compromise his hope of -great fortune by yielding to the dictates of present necessities. At last -his patience was rewarded in a way worthy of the sacrifices he had made. - -There was at this time a celebrated financier, named Paris du Verney, who -for years had been organizing a great work, the _École Militaire_, -actually in existence to-day on the Champs de Mars in Paris, but which -seemed likely to languish at its beginning owing to the lack of Royal -recognition. - -[Illustration: Madame de Pompadour] - -As Paris du Verney had been the financial manager for Madame de Pompadour, -and as he had been protected by her, a settled aversion was directed -against him by all the members of the Royal family. The disasters of the -Seven Years War had notably diminished the influence of the Marquise so -that the _École Militaire_, considered as her work was regarded with an -evil eye by the people of France. Nothing less than the official -recognition of the school by the King’s visiting it in person, could lift -it out of the disfavor into which it had fallen. But how could that -indolent monarch be induced to honor the old financier with a visit? This -was the problem that for nine years occupied the mind and heart of Paris -du Verney. All his efforts in this regard had however been in vain. The -King was indifferent, the Princesses prejudiced; there seemed left no -avenue through which approach could be made. - -Matters were at this pass when the attention of du Verney was attracted by -the young music master of Mesdames, now growing restless under the tedium -of his showy but irksome charge. The shrewd mind of du Verney was quick to -discover the latent business capacity which lay hidden under the exterior -of a gay courtier. He determined to make a final effort for the -accomplishment of his project by employing the mediation of the favorite -of the Princesses, to whom he promised, if success should crown his -efforts, an open pathway to the rapid acquisition of a brilliant and -independent fortune. - - - - - CHAPTER II - -“_On dira que l’amour des lettres, des plaisirs, n’exclut point une juste -sensibilité dans tout ce qui regarde l’honneur._” - - _Marsolier_--“_Beaumarchais à Madrid._” - - Induces the Princesses to Visit the _École Militaire_ - Established by du Verney--First Financial Successes--Certain - Great Lords _mis hors du combat_--“The _Frère Charmant_”--the - Devoted Son--Preparations for Trip to Spain. - - -Paris du Verney, who had pushed his way upward from an origin even more -obscure than that of Beaumarchais, was a man of wide experience in life, -and of rare energy of character. - -Although a certain shadow rested upon his name in connection with the -protection accorded him by Madame de Pompadour and the management of the -Seven Years war, yet no doubt can be entertained of his mastery of the -science of finance or of the breadth and liberality of his views. - -Clear sighted and keen in business matters, Paris du Verney was at the -same time a close observer of men, and one not easily deceived as to their -real merits. It was the innate qualities of heart and mind added to the -acquired habit of doing thoroughly and well whatever he undertook, that du -Verney had detected in the young man of bourgeois extraction, so -conspicuous at court, and it was upon him that he now fixed his hopes. In -speaking of it later, Beaumarchais says: - -“In 1760, M. du Verney, in despair at having employed vainly for the last -nine years, every means at his command to engage the Royal family to honor -with a visit the _École Militaire_, desired to make my acquaintance; he -offered me his heart, his aid and his credit, if I was able to effect that -which everyone had failed to accomplish for him.” - -[Illustration: _École Militaire_] - -It is easy to understand how readily Mesdames were persuaded to confer -this much coveted honor upon the old financier, understanding as they very -well did that in this way they could repay the years of faithful service -of their young protégé. The joy of du Verney may be readily imagined. His -heart overflowed with gratitude toward the one who had done him this great -service. It was an event as La Harpe has said, “That brought to the old -man’s eyes the sweetest tears of his life.” - -The day for the visit was therefore appointed, and Beaumarchais was -permitted the honor of accompanying the distinguished guests. They were -received with great pomp and the impression made upon the Princesses was -so agreeable, that on their return to Versailles, as had been hoped, the -account they gave so stimulated the curiosity of the indolent King, that -in a few days he followed the example of his daughters, thus entirely -fulfilling the desire of the founder of the school. - -Du Verney was not slow on his side in fulfilling his promise to the ardent -young man who asked for nothing better than the privilege of learning all -that the experienced financier could teach him. - -Dating from this moment Beaumarchais entered a new world, where new ideas, -new possibilities opened themselves before him. To quote La Harpe again, -“Depository of the entire confidence of the old man, charged with the -handling of his capital, Beaumarchais learned the science of vast -commercial operations and applied himself to it with all the vivacity of -an ardent, enterprising, and indefatigable nature.” - -Speaking of du Verney, Beaumarchais has said, “He initiated me into -financial matters of which as everyone knows he had a consummate -knowledge; I worked at my fortune under his direction and undertook by his -advice a number of enterprises; in several of these he aided me by his -capital and credit, in all by his advice.” - -Of du Verney’s feeling for Beaumarchais, we have the following testimony -from his own pen. - -“Since I have known him and since he has become an intimate in my -restricted circle of friends, everything convinces me that he is an -upright young man, with an honest soul, an excellent heart, and cultivated -mind, which merit the love and esteem of all honest people; proved by -misfortune, instructed by adversity, he will owe his advancement if he -succeeds to his good qualities alone.” - -Du Verney also aided Beaumarchais in the acquiring of certain functions at -court which gave him a legal claim to his title of nobility. In 1761 he -bought for 85,000 francs the very noble but very useless charge of -Secretary to the King. An attempt was made afterwards to bring him into a -still higher place by securing for him the very important and very -lucrative charge of Grand Master of the Waters and Forests of France. M. -de Loménie says in speaking of this matter that had it been successful, -the whole career of Beaumarchais might have been changed. As it proved, -however, so much opposition was aroused by the almost meteoric rapidity -with which he had arrived at so great fortune that for the first time in -his life, and notwithstanding the warm recommendations of Mesdames, -Beaumarchais was forced to change the direction of his solicitations and -to content himself with the less lucrative but even more honorable charge -of _lieutenant-général des chasses aux bailliage et capitainerie de la -varenne du Louvre_. - -For a young man of bourgeois extraction, not yet thirty years of age, his -complete transformation had come about with an almost incredible rapidity. -The new office, which will be treated in detail later, placed him on the -level with the ancient aristocracy of France and gave him a social -position which his ever-increasing fortune enabled him more and more -effectively to support. - -Not content, however, with his own rise in the world, he desired to share -his fortune with his whole family. We shall soon see him uniting them all -under his roof in Paris, but for the moment we must picture him continuing -to live at Versailles, and though occupied for the most part with his new -business operations, he still has time to superintend, as of old, the -pastimes and amusements of the Princesses, as well as to cultivate his -rare social gifts. No man ever made a more amiable or a more brilliant -figure in a salon. His music, his songs, his jests and repartees, the -gaiety and ardor of his nature, made him everywhere a favorite. - -Gudin says of him at this period, “He never forgot his old comrades and -almost never came to Paris without staying with his father, going to see -and embracing his neighbors, and those who had been witnesses of his first -efforts. Showing himself as far removed from the silly vanity which -blushes at its origin as from the pride which pretends to be what it is -not; by his gaiety and affability he made those about him forget the -change in his fortune and even at times the superiority of his talents. In -the bosom of his family his manners were simple, he was even what one -calls a _bonhomme_.” Characterizing him a little further on, Gudin says, -“For frivolous people Beaumarchais was only a man of the world; for the -ladies, a man attractive by his figure and his wit, amusing by his -talents, his dress, his imagination and a host of amiable adventures such -as the gayest and most interesting romance can scarcely furnish; but for -the old du Verney he was an excellent citizen, a truly manly genius, -zealous for his country, full of liberal ideas, of grand and useful -conceptions. He possessed pre-eminently all the talents which form the -charm of society, he put into everything a piquant originality which made -him more loved and prized than others. In verses or couplets which he -composed, there was always a turn, an idea, a striking feature, another -would have missed. His conversation, mixed with new ideas, jests, lively -but never bitter, unexpected repartee, always founded upon reason, made -him singularly attractive.” - -It can not be thought surprising that while these amiable and brilliant -qualities endeared Beaumarchais to the hearts of his friends, and to the -ladies into whose society he came, the effect produced by the same -qualities upon men of rank and position, who possessed no such attractions -was of a very different nature. - -The hatred which his first entry into the service of Mesdames had so -bitterly aroused was now redoubled since the old financier, du Verney, had -fixed his affections upon the young plebeian, and had helped him to the -amassing of a fortune and the procuring of a high position at court. - -This hatred did not hinder these same noblemen from receiving favors from -him which is proved by the numerous lawsuits, quarrels, and disasters -which came to thwart his career, nearly all of them the result of some -debt owed to him, or money not returned of which he demanded restitution. - -We shall have occasion in the course of this study to show from -innumerable instances that no man was ever more ready to come to an -amiable adjustment, or when necessary completely to forgive a debt, but it -will be found that this was always on condition that a just and fair -statement be admitted first. When this was refused, as in the famous -Goëzman trial, we shall see that though it be only a question of fifteen -louis, Beaumarchais is ready to stake reputation, happiness, fortune, and, -as the event proves, his civil existence even, in demonstrating before the -whole world that his adversary is completely in the wrong. - -To quote Fournier, “These gentlemen who did not wish to accept -Beaumarchais as a nobleman, but to whom he had so well proved that at -least, the courage was not lacking to be one, had very much more agreeable -ways with him, when it was a question of some service to be asked, service -of money almost always, but which from lack of restitution made of almost -every debtor an enemy.” - -As an illustration of the arrogance of some of these courtiers who were -gentlemen in name only, as well as of the cool assurance of Beaumarchais, -Monsieur de Loménie has given a series of letters exchanged apropos of a -small debt owed the latter, and contracted at a card table. - -It must be stated before going further, that among the peculiarities of -Beaumarchais, was a pronounced distaste for any sort of gambling. This -trait was the more unusual as gaming was at this period the recognized -amusement of all the upper classes while lotteries were recognized by law. - -Later Beaumarchais used his influence for the suppression of what he -clearly saw to be an institution ruinous to the prosperity of the country. -As a young man at Versailles and later at Madrid he was frequently witness -of disasters resulting from the chance of a card, and his whole mind -turned toward the procuring of more solid pleasures. But to return to the -matter of the debt contracted at a card table. M. de Loménie says: -“Beaumarchais found himself in 1763 at a ball at Versailles where there -was playing. He was standing by a table looking on. A man of quality named -M. de Sablières borrowed of him, although he was a complete stranger, -thirty-five louis. At the end of three weeks Beaumarchais hearing nothing -of the thirty-five louis wrote to the gentleman in question who replied -that he would send them the next day, or the day after. Three more weeks -passed. Beaumarchais wrote a second time; no reply. He grew impatient and -addressed to M. de Sablières the third letter which follows: - -“‘Since you have broken the written word which I have received from you, -Monsieur, it would be wrong for me to be surprised at the fact of your not -replying to my last letter; the one is the natural consequence of the -other. This forgetting of yourself does not authorize me to reproach you. -You owe me neither any civility, nor any regard. This letter is written -only to remind you once more of the debt of thirty-five louis which you -have contracted with me at the home of a mutual friend without other title -required but the honor of the debt, and that which is due from both of us -to the house where we met. Another consideration which is of not less -weight is that the money that you owe me has not been taken from me by the -chance of a card, but I loaned it to you from my pocket, and perhaps I -deprived myself by that of the advantage which it was permitted me to -hope, if I had wished to play instead of you. - -“‘If I am not happy enough to produce upon you by this letter the effect -that would be made upon me were I in your place, don’t take it amiss that -I place between us two a third respectable person, who is the natural -judge in similar cases. - -“‘I shall await your reply until day after to-morrow. I shall be very -happy if you judge by the moderation of my conduct of the perfect -consideration with which I have the honor to be--Monsieur, etc., - - De Beaumarchais.’” - -See now the reply of M. de Sablières, man of quality addressing himself to -the son of the watchmaker, Caron. Loménie says, “I reproduce literally the -letter with the mistakes in spelling and grammar with which it is -decorated. [Unfortunately the effect is spoiled by translation.] ‘I know -that I am unhappy enough to owe you thirty-five louis, and I deny that -this can dishonor me when I have the will to pay them back. My manner of -thinking, Monsieur, is known, and when I shall no longer be your debtor, I -will make myself known to you by terms which will be different from yours. -Saturday morning I shall ask a rendezvous in order to acquit myself of the -thirty-five louis, and to thank you for the polite things with which you -have had the goodness to serve yourself in your letters; I will attempt to -reply in the best possible manner and I flatter myself that between now -and Saturday you will be good enough to have a better idea of me. Be -convinced that twice twenty-four hours will seem very long to me; as to -the respectable third, with which you menace me, I respect him but no one -could care less for threats, and I care even less about your moderation. -Saturday you shall have your thirty-five louis, I give you my word, and I -know not whether for my part I shall be happy enough to reply with -moderation. While awaiting to acquit myself of all that I owe you, I am, -monsieur, as you desire, your very humble. Sablières.’ - -“This missive announcing not very pacific intentions was replied to by -Beaumarchais (who it will be remembered had recently killed a man at a -time when the laws against duels were very rigorous) in a letter in which -he begins by assurances of having had no intention to wound the honor of -that petulant M. de Sablières, and he closes the letter thus: ‘My letter -explained I have the honor of announcing to you that I will wait at my -house all Saturday morning the effect of your third promise; you say you -are not happy enough to vouch for your moderation; from the style of your -letter it is easy to judge that you are scarcely master of yourself in -writing, but I assure you that I shall not exaggerate in any way an evil -of which I am not the cause, by losing control of myself, if I can help -it. If after these assurances, it is your project to pass the limits of a -civil explanation and to push things to their utmost, which I do not wish -in the least, you will find me, Monsieur, as firm to repulse an insult as -I try to be on my guard against the movement which brings it into being. I -have no fear, therefore, to assure you again that I have the honor to be -with all possible consideration, Monsieur, - - “‘Your very humble, etc., - De Beaumarchais. - -“‘P. S. I keep a copy of this letter as well as of the first, in order -that the purity of my intentions may serve to justify me in case of -misfortune; but I hope to convince you Saturday that far from hunting a -quarrel, no one should make greater effort than I to avoid one. I cannot -explain myself in writing.’” - -Upon the copy of the same letter is written with the hand of Beaumarchais -the following lines which explain the postscriptum and which treat of the -duel with the Chevalier du C. of which we have spoken already. “This -happened eight or ten days after my unhappy affair with the Chevalier du -C, which affair would have ruined me but for the goodness of Mesdames who -spoke with the king. M. de Sablières asked for an explanation of the -postscriptum of my letter from Laumur, at whose house I lent him the -money, and what is amusing is that this explanation took away all his -desire to bring the money himself.” - -We have chosen this instance among numerous others to show the difficulty -of the position in which Beaumarchais found himself placed. Gudin says, -“The efforts of envy against him, fortified the character to which nature -had given so much energy. He learned to watch unceasingly over himself, to -master the impetuosity of his passions, to conserve in the most perilous -and unexpected circumstances, a perfect coolness united with the most -active presence of mind. Everything which seemed prepared to destroy -him turned to his advantage and enabled him to rise superior to -circumstances.” - -It was very soon after acquiring the foundations of a fixed fortune, that -Beaumarchais carried into execution the cherished dream of his life, which -was to gather all the members of his family under his own roof and to -lavish upon them all those comforts of life, in which the limited means of -the elder Caron had not permitted them to indulge. His mother was no -longer living but there remained his father and two unmarried sisters at -home. The elder Caron had, two years before, at his son’s request given up -his trade of watchmaker, receiving from the latter a lifelong pension and -a considerable sum of money to cover certain heavy losses which had come -to him in the way of business. - -We have formed already the acquaintance of Julie whom Beaumarchais -especially loved and who shared with him to the end all the vicissitudes -of his career. - -Julie is spoken of as charming, witty, and vivacious; a good musician, -speaking Italian and Spanish with fluency, improvising songs and composing -verses, “more remarkable by their gaiety than by their poetic value.” -Later in life she appeared before the public in a serious little volume -entitled _Reflections on Life, or Moral Considerations on the Value of -Existence_, but at the present time--1763--the tone of her letters -distinctly betokens one not yet disenchanted with the gay world of which -her brother formed the center. - -The youngest sister of all, Jeanne Marguerite Caron, seems to have -received a more brilliant education than the rest. M. de Loménie says of -her that, “She was a good musician, playing very well on the harp, that -she had a charming voice and more than that she was very pretty. She loved -to compose verses like her sister Julie, and without being equally -intelligent she possessed the same vivid, gay _esprit_ which distinguished -the family. In her infancy and girlhood she was called ‘Tonton.’ When her -brother, now a courtier, had associated Julie with the graceful name of -Beaumarchais, he found an even more aristocratic name for his youngest -sister, he called her Mademoiselle de Boisgarnier, and it was under this -name that Mlle. Tonton appeared with success in several salons. - -“In her correspondence as a girl, Mlle. Boisgarnier appears to us as a -small person, very elegant, slightly coquettish, slightly indolent, -somewhat sarcastic, but still very attractive. The whole tone of her -letters is that of the _petite bourgeoise_, of quality, very proud to have -for a brother a _Secrétaire du roi, Lieutenant-général des chasses_, and -in relation to whom she says in one of her letters, ‘_Comment se gouverne -la petite société? Le frère charmant en fait-il toujours les délices?_’” - -An older sister, Françoise, already had married a celebrated watchmaker of -Paris, named Lépine, with whom the family tie was never broken. Her home -served as a place of rendezvous for the scattered members of the family -during those cruel years, of which we shall have to speak, when the -property of Beaumarchais was seized and he himself degraded from his -rights as citizen. - -A son of this sister afterwards served as an officer in the American army -under the name of “Des Epinières.” - -The eldest sister of all, Marie-Josèphe, had left her father’s house when -her brother was a young lad just returned from the school at Alfort. She -had married an architect named Guilbert and had settled at Madrid in -Spain. She took with her one of the younger sisters, Marie Louise, who -continued to live with her there. The two sisters kept a milliner’s shop -and the younger, Lizette as she was called, became the fiancée of a gifted -young Spaniard, Clavico, of whom we shall hear presently from the pen of -Beaumarchais himself. - -Many years later the elder sister returned to France, a widow without -fortune, accompanied by Lizette and two young children. Beaumarchais gave -them both a yearly allowance, and at the death of the widow Guilbert, -continued to provide for her children whom he gathered under his roof in -Paris. Lizette had died some time previously. - -Mademoiselle de Boisgarnier married very soon after her brother’s return -from Spain. She was, however, taken early from her family and friends. She -died leaving a daughter who, needless to say, was cared for by her -generous uncle, and who later in life owed to him her advantageous -settlement and dowry. She seems to have inherited a large share of the -family gifts and to have been witty and attractive. In the family circle -she went by the name of “the muse of Orleans,” from the city in which she -was married and settled. - -In estimating the full value of this unusual generosity which, as will be -seen, did not show itself in isolated and spasmodic acts, but rather in a -constant and inexhaustible stream flowing direct from his heart, it must -not be forgotten that while Beaumarchais was at different periods of his -life enormously rich and able to extend his generosity to those outside -his family, yet there were other periods when exactly the reverse was the -case, when he knew not where to turn for the necessary means of -subsistence for himself alone. It was at such times that the true -generosity of his nature shone forth in unmistakable clearness; there was -never a time in his whole career, no matter what calamity had befallen -him, that he thought of shaking himself loose from the family whose care -he had assumed, a burden which indeed he bore very lightly most of the -time, but which sometimes became a weight which he could scarcely support. -The thought, however, of rising again without every one of those dear to -him was so impossible to a nature like his, that it never entered his -mind. The very fact that it was difficult, that it was impossible for -anyone else was a sufficient spur to his energy. Defeat meant nothing to -him, if one thing which he had tried failed, he at once attempted -something else, but conquer he must and in the end he almost invariably -did. - -But to return to Beaumarchais and the family gathered under his roof; as -we have seen, his actions speak for themselves and need no interpreters. -In a letter to his father written a little later he sums up his experience -of the world and his reason for pushing his fortunes so vigorously. He -says: - -“I wish to walk in the career which I have embraced, and it is above -everything else in the desire to share with you in ease and fortune that I -follow it so persistently.” - - * * * * * - -That the family of Beaumarchais knew how to appreciate and to return such -rare devotion we have incontestible proofs. Especially touching are the -outbursts of tenderness which come so spontaneously from the father’s -heart. Under the date of February 5th, 1763, at the moment of his -accepting the home prepared for him by his son the elder Caron writes, “I -bless heaven with the deepest gratitude for finding in my old age a son -with such an excellent heart, and far from being humiliated by my present -situation, my soul rises and warms itself at the touching idea of owing my -happiness, after God, to him alone.” - -And a little later: “You modestly recommend me to love you a little; that -is not possible, my dear friend. A son such as you is not made to be loved -a little by a father who feels and thinks as I. The tears of tenderness -which fall from my eyes as I write are the proof of this; the qualities of -thy excellent heart, the force and grandeur of thy soul, penetrate me with -the most tender love. Honor of my gray hairs, my son, my dear son, by what -have I merited from God the grace with which he overwhelms me, in my dear -son? It is, as I feel, the greatest favor which He can accord to an honest -and appreciative father, a son such as you.” - -The sincerity of these lines cannot for a moment be questioned, and we are -not surprised to find that the venerable old watchmaker died with a -blessing upon his lips. At the age of 77, a few days before his death, he -wrote to Beaumarchais, then engaged with his first measures regarding the -War of American Independence: “My good friend, my dear son, that name is -precious to my heart, I profit by an interval in my excessive suffering, -or rather in the torment which makes me fall in convulsions, simply to -thank you very tenderly for what you sent me yesterday. If you go back to -England I beg you to bring me a bottle of salts such as they give people -who, like me, fall in fainting fits. Alas! my dear child, perhaps I shall -no longer have the need of it when you return. I pray the Lord every day -of my life to bless you, to recompense you, and to preserve you from every -accident; this will always be the prayer of your good friend and -affectionate father, - - Caron.” - -But in 1763, many years of happy relationship between father and son were -still before them. It may be of interest to note that the house first -bought by Beaumarchais, in which the family passed many happy years, is -still in existence, possessing much the same external appearance as it did -when occupied by him who gave it its historical significance. It bears the -number, 26 rue de Condé, in the neighborhood of the Luxembourg. In the -iron grating about the windows may still be seen the initials of -Beaumarchais. - -But while he was laying the foundations of the family happiness in Paris, -an event was occurring in the distant capital of Spain the news of which -stirred his soul with indignation and caused him to hasten with all speed -to the scene of action. True however to the many-sided nature so strongly -developed within him, he took time thoroughly to prepare himself for the -journey. - -He received from the patronage of Mesdames important recommendations to -the court of Spain, and power to enter into business negotiations at the -capital. His faithful friend, Paris du Verney, provided him with letters -of credit, destined to place him grandly at Madrid and to enable him to -carry on whatever his fertile brain could imagine, or his energy and -audacity carry through. - -Express trains and automobiles had not been invented in those days, but -whatever the century in which he found himself possessed in the way of -rapid transit was put to the utmost test in this journey into Spain -stopping neither night nor day, and all the while his imagination carrying -him still faster, busying itself with the primary cause of his journey and -so sure of victory in his overwhelming consciousness of power, that -already his indignation was on the brink of turning into pardoning pity, -which it was bound to do as soon as his adversary showed any symptom of -returning to sentiments of honor. Of this rare adventure we must let -Beaumarchais tell in his own way. - - - - - CHAPTER III - -“_Que dirait la Sagesse si elle me voyait entre-mêler les occupations les -plus graves dont un homme puisse s’occuper, de soirées agréables, tantôt -chez un ambassadeur, tantôt chez un ministre.... Les contraires -peuvent-ils ainsi aller dans une même tête? Qui, mon cher père, je -ressemble à feu Alcibiade, dont-il ne me manque que la figure, la -naissance, l’esprit et les richesses._” - - _Lettre de Beaumarchais à son père._ - -_Marceline_: “_Jamais fâché, toujours en belle humeur; donnant le présent -à la joie, et s’inquiétant de l’avenir tout aussi peu que du passé, -sêmillant généreux généreux._” - -_Bartholo_: “_Comme un voleur!_” - -_Marceline_: “_Comme un seigneur._” - - “_Le Mariage de Figaro_”--Act I, Scene IV. - - Adventure with Clavico--Business Negotiations in Spain--Life of - Pleasure at the Spanish Capital--Home Interests and Letters. - - -“For several years,” wrote Beaumarchais, “I had had the happiness to -surround myself with my whole family. The joy of being thus united with -them and their gratitude towards me were the continual recompense for the -sacrifice which this cost me. Of five sisters which I had, two since their -youth had been confided by my father to one of his correspondents in -Spain, where they resided, and I had only a faint but sweet memory of them -which sometimes had been enlivened by their correspondence. - -“In February, 1764, my father received a letter from the elder daughter of -which the following is the substance: ‘My sister has been outrageously -treated by a man as high in public favor as he is dangerous. Twice at the -moment of marrying her, he suddenly has broken his word without deigning -to give any excuse for his conduct. The offended sensibilities of my -sister have thrown her into such a state that from all appearances it is -doubtful if we can save her.’ - -“‘The dishonor with which this event overwhelms us has forced us into -seclusion, where I pass the day and night in weeping while endeavoring to -offer my sister those consolations which I do not know how to take myself. - -“‘All Madrid knows that my sister has nothing with which to reproach -herself. If her brother has enough credit to recommend us to the French -Ambassador, His Excellency may be induced to protect us from the disgrace -which this perfidious man has brought upon us.’ - -“My father hastened to Versailles to meet me, and weeping gave me the -letter of my sister. - -“‘See, my son, what you can do for these two unfortunates, they are no -less your sisters than the others.’ - -“I was indeed touched by the account of the distressing situation of my -sister, but I said to my father, ‘Alas, what can I do? Who knows whether -there is not some fault which they hide from us?’ - -“‘I forgot,’ said my father, ‘to show you several letters which prove my -daughter to be innocent of any fault.’ - -“I read these letters, they reassured me--then the words, ‘She is no less -your sister than the others,’ went to the depths of my heart. - -“‘Do not weep,’ I said to my father, ‘I have decided on a step which will -astonish you, but it seems to me the most certain, the most wise. I will -ask to be released from my duties at court, and taking only prudence for -a guide I will either revenge my sister or bring them both back to Paris -to partake with us of our modest fortune.’ - -“Further information which I derived from reliable sources which were -indicated by my sister, made my blood boil with indignation at the outrage -which she had suffered, so without any further delay, I went back to -Versailles to notify my august Protectresses, that a sorrowful affair of -the highest importance demanded my presence in Madrid, and forced me to -suspend my services at court. Astounded at so abrupt a departure, they -were kind enough to desire to be informed as to the nature of my trouble. -I showed them the letter of my sister. - -“‘Go, but act prudently,’ was the honorable encouragement which I received -from the Princesses; ‘that which you undertake is well and you shall have -support, if your conduct is reasonable.’ - -“The warmest recommendations to our ambassador were given me by these -august ladies, and became the inestimable price of four years devoted to -their amusement. - -“At the moment of my departure I received the commission to negotiate a -very important affair in Spain for the commerce of France. M. du Verney, -touched by the motive of my voyage, embraced me and said, ‘Go my son, save -your sister. As to the business with which you are charged know that in -all you undertake, you have my support. I have promised this publicly to -the Royal Family, and I will never go back on my word. Here are my notes -for 200,000 francs, which will enable you to draw upon me for that sum.’ - -“I started and traveled night and day, accompanied by a friend. I arrived -at Madrid the 18th of May at eleven o’clock in the morning; I found my -sisters expecting me. Scarcely were the first embraces over, than I said -to them, ‘Don’t be surprised if I employ the first moments in learning -exactly the nature of your unhappy adventure. To serve you with success I -must be informed fully in regard to what happened.’ The account they gave -me was exact and long. Several of their intimate friends were present who -testified to its accuracy. When the story was finished, I kissed my sister -and said to her, ‘My child, now that I know all, console yourself. I see -with pleasure that you no longer love the man; this makes the matter much -easier for me. Tell me simply where I can find him.’ Everyone present -advised me to begin by seeing the ambassador, as our enemy was a man -powerfully supported at court. - -“‘Very good, my friends,’ I said, ‘to-morrow I will go and pay my respects -to Monsieur the ambassador, but do not be angry if I take certain steps -before I see him. The only thing I ask of you is to keep my arrival here -absolutely secret.’ - -“Promptly I had a costume taken from my trunk, and hastily adjusting it, -went directly to the house of Joseph Clavico, guard of the archives of the -king. He was not at home. I was told where he might be found; I hastened -thither and without making myself known I requested an interview at his -earliest possible convenience, as I was charged with certain commissions -for him from France. He invited me to take my chocolate with him at nine -o’clock the next morning; I accepted for myself and my traveling -companion. - -“The next morning, the 19th of May, I arrived at half-past eight. I found -him superbly lodged in the house of a man prominent at court, who is so -much his friend, that absent from Madrid he allowed him the use of his -home as though it were his own. - -“‘I am charged,’ I said to him, ‘by a society of men of letters, to -establish in the cities where I pass a literary correspondence with the -most learned men of the country. As no other Spaniard writes better than -the author of _el Pensador_, to whom I have the honor of speaking, it -seems to me that I cannot better serve my friends, than in connecting -myself with a man of your merits.’ - -“I saw that he was enchanted with my proposition, so better to judge the -man with whom I had to deal, I allowed him to discourse lengthily upon -the advantages which different nations might obtain from similar -correspondence. He talked like an angel and simply glowed with pleasure. - -“In the midst of his joy, he asked me what was the business which drew me -to Spain, saying he would be happy if he might be of any service to me. - -“‘I accept with gratitude your flattering offer,’ I replied, ‘and I assure -you that for you I have no secrets.’ Then desiring to mystify him -completely so that the end of my discourse alone would explain its import, -I presented my friend a second time, saying, ‘Monsieur here is not an -entire stranger to what I have to say to you, and will not be the least in -our way.’ This exordium caused him to regard my friend with much -curiosity. Then I began: - -“‘A French merchant of limited means had a good many correspondents in -Spain. One of the richest of these, nine or ten years ago, in passing -through Paris, made him the following proposition: “Give me two of your -daughters, I will take them with me to Madrid, they will live with me, who -am an old bachelor without family, they will be the happiness of my old -days and they shall inherit one of the richest establishments in Spain.” - -“‘The eldest daughter, already married, and a younger sister were confided -to him. In exchange for this favor, the father agreed to supply the -Spanish house with whatever merchandise was needed from France. - -“‘Two years later the correspondent died, leaving the sisters without -having received any benefit and embarrassed with a commercial house which -they were obliged to keep up. (Here I saw Clavico redouble his attention.) - -“‘About this time a young man, a native of the Canary Islands, presented -himself at the house. (All his gaiety vanished at the words which -designated him.) Notwithstanding his small fortune, the ladies, seeing his -great ardor to learn the French language and the sciences, aided him by -every means in their power. - -“‘Full of desire to become celebrated, he formed the project, quite new -for the nation, of providing the city of Madrid with a periodical journal -in the nature of the English _Spectator_. He received from his friends -encouragement and help of every kind. His enterprise met with great -success; then, animated with the hope of making himself a name, he -ventured to propose marriage with the younger of the French women. ‘Begin -by succeeding,’ said the elder one, ‘if you are able to secure a position -which will permit you to live honorably and if she prefers you to other -suitors, I shall not refuse my consent.’ (Here Clavico began to move about -nervously in his chair, but without apparent notice I continued thus:) - -“‘The younger, touched by the merits of the man who sought her hand, -refused several advantageous alliances, preferring to wait until he had -succeeded in obtaining what he desired and encouraged him to issue his -first philosophic paper under the imposing title of _el Pensador_. (Here I -saw he looked ready to faint.) The work,’ I continued with icy coldness, -‘had a prodigious success; the King himself, amused by that charming -production, gave the author marks of his satisfaction. He offered him the -first honorable position which should become vacant. At this the young -man dispersed all other pretendants to the young woman’s hand by publicly -announcing his intentions. - -“‘The marriage was postponed only by the non-arrival of the desired -position. At last, after six years of waiting on one hand, and of -assiduous efforts on the other, the position arrived, and at the same -moment the young man disappeared. (Here Clavico gave an involuntary sigh -and then turned crimson with confusion. I noticed all this without ceasing -to speak.) - -“‘The affair had made too much noise to permit the ladies to regard this -_dénoûment_ with indifference. They had taken a house large enough for two -families, the bans had been published; the outrage made all their friends -indignant. Monsieur the French ambassador interested himself. When the -young man in question found that the women were thus protected, fearing to -lose his credit, he went and prostrated himself at the feet of his -fiancée. He employed every means in his power to win her back. As the -anger of a woman is almost always love disguised, everything was soon -adjusted. The preparations for the marriage were recommenced. The bans -were published again, and the event was to come off in three days. - -“‘The reconciliation had made as much noise as the rupture. He went to -obtain leave of the minister to marry, and before going said, “My friends, -conserve the wavering heart of my mistress until my return and dispose -everything so that I may then conduct her to the altar.” (In spite of the -horrible state in which my recital put him, Clavico, still uncertain of my -motive, looked from time to time from me to my friend, whose sang-froid -instructed him as little as my own.) I continued: - -“‘He returned sure enough two days later, but instead of leading his -fiancée to the altar he sent her word that he had again changed his mind, -and that he would not marry her. - -“‘Their friends, infuriated, rushed upon him. The insolent fellow defies -them to do their worst, and threatens that if the French women undertake -to interfere he has it in his power to ruin them. At this the young woman -falls into such a state that her life is in danger. In her utter despair, -the elder sister writes to France, recounting the public outrage they had -received. This account touches the heart of a brother who demanded at once -permission to come to Spain in order to clear up this affair. He has made -but one bound from Paris to Madrid, and this brother _am I_, who have left -everything: country, position, business, family, pleasures, to come here -to revenge an innocent and unhappy sister; it is I who come armed with -right and firmness to unmask a traitor, and to write his soul in traces of -blood upon his face,--and that traitor--_is you_!” - -The effect of these words upon the unhappy Clavico, can be imagined better -than described. As Beaumarchais finished his long recital he turned and -fixed his gaze steadily upon his adversary, who writhed under its spell. -As Beaumarchais paused, Clavico began to mutter forth excuses. - -To return to the account of Beaumarchais. “‘Do not interrupt me, you have -nothing whatever to say, but a great deal to hear. To commence, will you -have the goodness to declare before Monsieur here who has come with me -from France for this express purpose, whether by breach of faith, -frivolity, weakness, or other vice, my sister has merited the double -outrage which you have had the cruelty to impose upon her publicly.’ - -“‘No, Monsieur, I admit that Donna Maria, your sister, is full of spirit, -grace and virtue.’ - -“‘Has she ever given you any subject for complaint?’ - -“‘Never, never.’ - -“Then turning to the friend who accompanied me: ‘You have heard the -justification of my sister, go and publish it, the rest that I have to say -to Monsieur does not need witnesses.’ - -“My friend went out, Clavico rose but I made him sit down. - -“‘Now, Monsieur, that we are alone, here is my project which I hope you -will approve.’” Beaumarchais then proposed either a duel, or a written -justification of his sister. - -While Clavico rose and paced restlessly up and down the room, Beaumarchais -coolly rang for the chocolate to which he helped himself while the unhappy -man was going over in his mind what there remained for him to do. - -Clavico, though unprincipled in character, was clever enough to recognize -the qualities of the man with whom he had to deal. Being possessed of -neither physical courage nor training, the first alternative offered by -Beaumarchais had no place in his consideration. Obliged to accept the -other, he decided to do so with the grace of one having been convinced of -his wrong. Beaumarchais, informed of this purpose, summoned several -servants of the house whom he stationed in an adjoining gallery as -witnesses in case Clavico ever should try to prove that force had been -employed. Paper, pen, and ink were brought, Clavico seated himself and -meekly wrote, while Beaumarchais walked indifferently to and fro -dictating. Again to return to the narrative of Beaumarchais: - -“Declaration, of which I have the original: - -“‘I the undersigned, Joseph Clavico, guard of the archives of the crown, -testify that I have been received with kindness in the house of Madame -Guilbert, that I have deceived Mademoiselle Caron her sister by a promise, -a thousand times repeated, to marry her, that I have failed in the -fulfillment of this promise, without her having committed any fault which -could serve as a pretext or excuse for my breach of faith; that, on the -contrary, the conduct of that lady, for whom I have the most profound -respect, always has been pure and without spot. I testify that by my -conduct, by the frivolity of my discourse, and by the interpretation which -could be given it, that I have openly outraged this virtuous young lady, -of whom I beg pardon by this writing made freely, although I recognize -fully that I am unworthy to obtain it, promising her every possible -reparation which she could desire, if this does not satisfy her. - -“‘Made at Madrid and entirely written by my hand, in presence of her -brother, the 19th of May, 1764. - - Signed--Joseph Clavico.’” - -As we have said, Clavico had accepted the rôle forced upon him with -admirable grace. As soon as he had signed the paper and handed it to -Beaumarchais, whose anger now was wholly appeased, he began in the most -insinuating tones, “Monsieur, I believe that I am speaking to the most -offended but most generous of men.” He then proceeded to explain how -ambition had ruined him; how he had always loved Donna Maria; how his only -hope now lay in her forgiveness and in being able to win back her -affection; how deeply he realized his unworthiness of this favor and that -to obtain it there was only one person to whom he could have recourse and -that was the offended brother before him; he therefore implored -Beaumarchais to take the paper he had just signed and use it as he wished, -but to plead his cause with Donna Maria. - -This was a turn in the situation for which the brilliant Frenchman was -hardly prepared. The wily Clavico pursued his advantage and before the -interview had ended he was already convinced that the man with whom he had -to deal was too generous to be really dangerous. - -Strong in his position through the written declaration of Clavico, -Beaumarchais now hurried back to the home of Madame Guilbert. He found his -sisters in the midst of their friends, waiting with indescribable -impatience for his return; when he arrived with the paper, when they heard -its contents, a scene of the greatest excitement occurred in which amid -mutual embraces, with everyone weeping and laughing together, and all -talking at once, the whole story little by little at length was brought -out. - -As can be imagined, the affair made a great stir in Madrid. The influence -of the friends of Clavico on the one hand, and on the other, the strong -recommendations of the French Ambassador, who took the matter seriously in -hand, finally induced the family after several weeks of indecision on -their part and of pleading on that of Clavico, to hush the matter by -accepting a new alliance. The affair once settled, Beaumarchais, true to -his character of doing wholeheartedly whatever he undertook, became at -once the warm friend and confidant of Clavico, lent him money, entered -heartily into his schemes of advancement, so that the two were constantly -seen together. After a short period of this friendship, so sincere on the -part of Beaumarchais, imagine his surprise to suddenly find that the -cunning Clavico had all along been secretly plotting his ruin and was now -on the brink of having him arrested and thrown into prison. - -Furious at last, Beaumarchais no longer hesitated in wreaking his -vengeance upon his perfidious adversary; he rushed to court, made the -whole matter thoroughly known, and the king, having entered into the -merits of the case, decided against Clavico whom he discharged from his -service and who was obliged to take refuge in a convent outside of Madrid. -From this retreat he addressed a pleading letter to Beaumarchais imploring -his commiseration. The latter in speaking of it says, “He was right to -count upon it, I hated him no longer, in fact I never in my life hated -anyone.” - -Before going farther, it may be of interest to note that this same Clavico -survived Beaumarchais a number of years, dying in Madrid in 1806. He seems -to have succeeded in making his way in the world in spite of his temporary -loss of favor, and also, to quote Loménie, “after having seen himself -immolated during life in the open theater, by Goethe, as a melodramatic -scoundrel.” He translated Buffon into Spanish and died editor of the -_Historical and Political Mercury_ and vice-director of the Cabinet of -Natural History of Madrid. - -As might be expected the news of Beaumarchais’s way of settling the -Spanish matter, caused no less joy to the family in France, than to that -in Madrid. On June 6th, 1764, his father wrote to him: “How deliciously I -feel the honor, my dear Beaumarchais, of having such a son, whose actions -crown so gloriously the end of my career. I see at a glance all the good -that will result for the honor of my dear Lisette from the generous action -which you have performed in her favor. I receive by the same post two -letters from the charming Countess (the Countess of Fuen-Clara, one of the -patronesses of the _père_ Caron, watchmaker) one to me and the other to -Julie, so beautiful and touching, so full of tender expressions for me, -and honorable for you, that you will have no less pleasure than I when you -read them. You have enchanted her; she never tires of dwelling upon the -pleasure it gives her to know you, or the desire she has of being useful -to you, or the joy it gives her to see how all the Spanish approve and -praise your action with Clavico; she could not be more delighted if you -were her own son. Adieu, my dear Beaumarchais, my honor, the joy of my -heart; receive a thousand embraces from the kindest of fathers and the -best of friends. - - Caron.” - -There is also a letter extant from the abbé de Malespine to the elder -Caron. He wrote: “I have read and re-read, Monsieur, the account which has -been sent you from Spain. I am overwhelmed with joy at all that it -contains. Monsieur your son is a real hero. I see in him the most -brilliantly gifted of men and the tenderest of brothers; honor, firmness, -everything shines out in his proceedings with Clavico.” - -When this affair which had occupied him so intensely for almost six weeks -was definitely settled, Beaumarchais seems to have given it no further -consideration, but to have turned his attention to the business -negotiations with which he was charged, and to the life of gaiety and -pleasure which his brilliant gifts opened to him. In speaking of this -period, Loménie says, “Scarcely arrived at Madrid, we see him plunging -into the whirlpool of industrial enterprises, pleasures, festivals, -gallantries, of music and of song, which was his element. He is in the -flower of his age; all his esprit, all his imagination, all his gaiety, in -a word all his faculties, are at the highest point of their development.” - -Soon we find him writing to his father, “I follow my affairs with a -determination which you know me to possess; but all business between the -French and the Spanish is hard to bring to success. I shall have long -details to give you when I get back to warm myself at your fire. I work, -I write, I confer, I draw up documents, that is my life. I promise you -that whether I succeed or not in all that I have undertaken, I will at -least bring with me the esteem of all those in this country with whom I -have to deal. Take care of your health and believe that my greatest -happiness will be to enable you to share whatever good comes to me.” - -A little later he wrote, “I am now at the flower of my age. It is for me -to work and for you to repose yourself. I may perhaps be able to relieve -you entirely from all your engagements. To this object I devote all my -energy. I will not tell you all now, but understand that I shall not go to -sleep over the project which I have always had in my mind to put you on a -level with all that is about you. Take care of yourself, my dear father, -and live. The moment will come when you will be able to enjoy your old -age, free from debts, and satisfied with your children. I have just had -your son-in-law appointed paid engineer to the king. If you receive news -of me from any inhabitant of Madrid they will say, your son amuses himself -like a king; he passes all his evenings at the Russian Ambassador’s,--with -my lady Rochford; he dines four times a week with the Commander of the -engineers, and drives with six mules all about Madrid; then he goes to the -_sitio real_ to see M. de Grimaldi and other Ministers. He takes one meal -a day at the French ambassador’s so that his stay is not only charming, -but very inexpensive. All this is true as far as amusements go,--but you -must not suppose that I neglect my business. I attend to every detail -myself. It is in the high society for which I was born that I find the -means which I require--and when you see what I have written, you will -admit that I have not been walking but running toward my goal.” - -One of the chief enterprises which Beaumarchais had undertaken was the -establishment of a Louisiana Company modeled on that of the British East -India Company, which had for its object the securing for France the right -to trade in that territory for the next thirty years. - -He had a project for the colonization of the Sierra Morena Mountains in -Spain, a third for the introduction of a new and more practical method of -providing the army with the necessary supplies; then there were -innumerable minor schemes for the improvement of agriculture, commerce, -industry, and things generally in Spain. Upon all of these subjects, he -addresses innumerable memoirs to the Spanish ministers, and, in a word, -does his utmost to infuse some of his own energy into that unenterprising -nation. Although he almost succeeds in stirring things into a semblance of -life, yet it will not be thought surprising when we consider the nation -with which he had to deal, that notwithstanding his assiduous efforts, -many of his projects failed completely, and others met with but partial -success. - -There is a lengthy letter given by Loménie addressed by Beaumarchais to -his father in which the son goes into minute details about his project for -supplying the Spanish army with provisions. It shows, amongst other -things, his mastery of calculation on a gigantic scale, and that no -enterprise was too vast for his comprehensive intellect. - -True to the dictates of his generous soul, here as elsewhere, it is the -thought of the ease and comfort which he will be enabled to give to those -dear to him that fills his heart with gladness. Still to his father he -wrote: “I finish, my dear father, by recommending the care of your health -as the most precious thing that I have in this world and I reiterate the -tender and respectful attachment with which I have the honor of being, -Monsieur and very dear father, your very humble and very obedient servitor -and affectionate son, Beaumarchais.” ... (Then in postscript) “I might be -able to find ten days that I would employ with a rare satisfaction in -procuring you a consultation with M. Tronchon so as to get at the bottom -of your malady. This idea consoles me in advance. It may be that before I -go to Lyons, I shall pass by Paris, in which case I will take you with me -and the rest will follow of itself. Your health becomes more and more dear -to me, as I feel myself able to augment your satisfaction by my -advancement and by the care that I will give to render your old age -agreeable in procuring comfort for all those who are dear to you.” - -But to return to the social life which Beaumarchais was leading at Madrid. -We have spoken already of his distaste for card playing. Loménie gives a -very characteristic letter of Beaumarchais to his sister Julie, where he -paints with rare force and vividness of coloring the scene about a _table -de jeu_ in the salon of the Russian Ambassador. The center of the life and -movement is naturally himself. With his usual frankness he writes to -Julie, “Evenings we have cards or music and then supper, of all of which I -seem to be the soul. The society has been increased by all the -Ambassadors, who before my arrival lived rather isolated. They say now -they have charming evenings because I am there.” Then follows a vivid -description of the mad playing which ends by Beaumarchais’s lending this -time, not thirty louis, but two hundred and thirty, besides three hundred -and fifty which he had gained at the play, but which were not forthcoming. -The debtors in this case were the Russian Ambassador and his wife. As -Beaumarchais was now winning he rose and refused to play any longer. The -Ambassador and his wife who were excited over their losses, failed in -their duties as host and hostess; the matter made a good deal of noise and -for ten days coolness reigned in all the social life of Madrid, -Beaumarchais vowing that he had played for the last time. During the -whole affair he carried himself with so much dignity and showed so much -moderation that he won great credit among all the Princes and Ambassadors -of that high society. Finally the matter was adjusted, the joyful evenings -recommenced, but with grand music instead of cards, and Beaumarchais adds: -“Word of honor, let no one ever speak to me of playing again, let us -amuse ourselves with other things which do not entail such serious -consequences.” And a little further on, “the friendship is stronger than -ever; balls, concerts, but no more cards. I have written some French words -to a Spanish air that is very much admired; I have had two hundred copies -made. I will save one to send with the music of the one I sent to my -father. Good night, I will write Tuesday to my Pauline and her aunt.” - -But not only the Russian Ambassador rejoiced in the pleasure of the -intimate friendship of Beaumarchais, but also--in the words of Loménie: -“Lord Rochford dotes upon him, goes to the Prado with him, sups with him, -sings duets with him and becomes astonishingly jovial for an English -diplomat. - -“But this is not all his life at the Capital. In the midst of his -industrial enterprises and his aristocratic pleasures, the future author -of the _Barbier de Séville_ appears to be continually occupied with his -humble family, now displaying a rare tact and without compromising his -patrician bearing to force great ladies at Madrid to pay the bills which -they had long owed the elder Caron; and with fraternal bonhomie, entering -into all the details of the life of his sisters at home, or leaving the -salons of the Capital for the modest dwelling of his sisters at Madrid.” - -That he was not ashamed of their station in life is admirably shown by the -following letter addressed to his father. He wrote: “I have seen Drouillet -(a French banker established in Madrid). He and his wife called soon -after my arrival, but I have not entered into their society although -Drouillet is himself an estimable man. The reason I have kept away is the -ridiculous airs of his wife, who because she possesses a few more _écus_ -than your daughters considers herself above them. She has tried to attract -me there by attentions and invitations of every sort but never mentioned -my sisters, which made me reply that I was making too short a stay in -Madrid to give my time to any but my family. It is the same everywhere, -this ridiculous feeling belongs to every country. There are here great and -little France. My sisters are too well brought up to belong to the latter -and they are not considered rich enough to be admitted to the former, so -that the visits of the Drouillets were for me alone; at which Monsieur -your son, took the liberty of putting Madame Drouillet in her place; and -so she says that I am _malin_. You know what that means, my dear father, -and whether there is malice in seeing things clearly and then in saying -what one thinks.” - -In relation to the debtors of the elder Caron at Madrid, allusions -frequently occur in the letters. For instance, the father writes, “I see -what you have done and what you are doing among my debtors from whom I -would never have drawn a farthing but for you.” At another time -Beaumarchais writes, “I am in a way to receive payment from all of your -grandees--their self esteem is so mixed up with it that I think I shall -manage to get all they owe you. My letters to them are polite but proud. -The duke and duchess do not seem to want to be under any obligation to me, -fearing that I will boast of it and that the length of the credit will be -divulged. Let me manage it in my own way.” - -Here is a sample of his manner of approaching these creditors of his -father. “Knowing that a number of idle people do me the honor of -disturbing themselves regarding the motives of my stay in Spain, it has -seemed to me my duty to tranquilize them by employing my time in -soliciting the debts of my house. In consequence I have the honor to -demand of your excellency the permission”--here follows a statement of the -debt owed to the elder Caron. One of these individuals of quality thus -addressed being in no way anxious to pay, revenged herself by trying to -show up Beaumarchais as an adventurer. Immediately the latter wrote home -and received from his sister Julie by return post, a beautifully printed -decree drawn from the “Cabinet rose” by the chimney. There are four great -pages containing fifteen articles reinforced by legal terms and extracts -of ordinances--the whole surmounted with a beautiful ornament made of -acanthus leaves and bearing the following inscription, “Made at the castle -of the Louvre by Monsieur Pierre-August Caron de Beaumarchais, Equerry -Councilor of the King, _lieutenant-général des chasses aux bailliage et -capitainerie de la varenne du Louvre, grande vennerie, fauconnerie of -France_, having session in the chamber of council, Tuesday, January 17th, -1764, signed de Vitry, chief registrar.” For fear the list was not long -enough, knowing well that one can never have too many titles in Spain, his -brother-in-law added, “Equerry Councilor, secretary of the king, -_contrôleur_ of the house of the king, lieutenant-general, etc.” - -But it is impossible to touch upon all the details of that correspondence -so faithfully sustained on both sides for more than a year, during his -stay in Spain. These letters are the chief source from which we have to -draw in estimating Beaumarchais the son, brother and friend, as well as -the man of the world and the man of business. Fortunately nearly all these -letters have been preserved; we shall have occasion to return to them when -treating of another phase of the life of Beaumarchais in relation to a -connection formed before his sudden departure from Paris. As this incident -with its connections takes us away from the outside world and conducts us -into the inmost sanctuary of the home established in the rue de Condé, all -the letters which touch upon it seem to belong to the next chapter. - -It is there we shall see Beaumarchais playing at first the part of the -happy and accepted lover of his charming Pauline, but a little later -assuming the rather astonishing rôle of victim, for in the words of -Loménie, “In the end he is really the victim, and we shall see that he -does his best to be furious. He is here the antithesis of Clavico. It is -Pauline who will be Clavico, or rather there will be a Clavico who will -carry off Pauline.” - - - - - CHAPTER IV - -“_Figure charmante, organe flexible et touchant! de l’âme surtout...._” - - _“Les deux amis,” Act 1, Scene 1._ - - The Beautiful Creole, Pauline--Beaumarchais the Judge, the - Lover, the Friend--Mademoiselle de Boisgarnier Marries Janot - de Miron--The Père Caron’s Second Marriage. - - -Before entering into a consideration of the rôle played by Beaumarchais as -lover, a few more touches are necessary to represent him as he was before -the world. We already have spoken of his various appointments at court, -and mentioned the fact that in 1763 he had bought the very honorable -charge of _lieutenant-général des chasses aux bailliage et capitainerie de -la varenne du Louvre_. - -In order that it may be quite clear to the reader what were the functions -assumed in acquiring this office we may explain that the _capitaineries_ -were territorial circumscriptions in which the right of hunting was -reserved exclusively for the king. That known as “_la varenne du Louvre_” -extended for some fifty or sixty miles about Paris. There was a special -tribunal called “the tribunal to conserve the pleasures of the king” which -tried all cases connected with infringements of the regulations belonging -to the _capitaineries_. The audiences of the particular one in question -were held once a week at the Louvre. They were presided over by the duke -de la Vallière, whose chief officer Beaumarchais now became. - -When the duke was absent, which M. de Loménie assures us was almost -invariably the case, Beaumarchais himself presided. Under the latter were -many subordinates, some of them noblemen of high rank, so that it is easy -to understand the prestige of such an office. - -There were innumerable regulations, many of them very trying to private -individuals, which it became the duty of the lieutenant-general to -enforce. In the territory belonging to the _capitainerie_, no game could -be shot, no garden or other wall be constructed without special -authorization from the tribunal which presided over these matters. So -annoying were these regulations that in 1789 the suppression of the -_capitaineries_ was one of the most popular measures voted by the -_Assemblée Constituante_. In 1763, however, no one had thought as yet of -the possibility of doing without them, so that we shall see Beaumarchais -entering with his usual ardor into the exact and circumspect performance -of his new duties. - -To think of Beaumarchais as he appears later in life, attacking with the -audacity which belongs to him alone, the very foundations of feudal -despotism in his inimitable _Mariage de Figaro_, and to see him now in his -long judicial robes seated upon the _fleur de lis_, gravely judging “pale -humans” apropos of rabbits, is a contrast which hardly can be met with in -any other career, and certainly not in any other century. That he took his -functions seriously and that he also knew how to guard such rights as -individuals then possessed is clearly shown in the following -characteristic anecdote which we quote from Gudin. - -“Soon after his return from Spain, Beaumarchais had a quarrel with the -Prince of Condé, on the subject of the privileges of the chase, in -connection with a certain garden wall which the Prince had torn down and -which Beaumarchais as the protector of the rights of the individual had -caused to be rebuilt. The Prince was very angry. M. de Beaumarchais -mounted on a horse and went to find him while the nobleman was out -hunting. - -“‘I have come,’ said Beaumarchais, ‘to give an account of my conduct.’ - -“A discussion at once arose; the Prince had a good deal of _esprit_ and -what is rarer still in one of his rank, he had liberal ideas. - -“‘Certainly,’ Beaumarchais said to him, ‘your Highness can obtain anything -you wish. Your rank, your power--’ - -“‘No,’ replied the Prince, ‘it is as lawyer that I pretend to be in the -right.’ - -“‘In that case,’ said Beaumarchais, ‘I demand of your Highness leave to be -the lawyer on the opposite side and to plead before you. You shall be the -judge.’ - -“He then proceeded to expose the affair with so much clearness, precision, -eloquence, energy, and regard for the Prince that the latter avowed he was -in the wrong and from that moment felt for Beaumarchais the greatest -affection.” And the devoted biographer hastens to add, “It was difficult -to see him without loving him; the Dauphin, Mesdames, the Duke de la -Vallière, the Duke de Chaulnes and nearly all those with whom he came in -contact have experienced the same sentiment.” - -During Beaumarchais’s sojourn in Spain the functions of this office, when -not presided over by the Duke in person, were necessarily left to -subordinates. Beaumarchais however retained his charge until a period just -prior to its final abolishment in 1789. - -When in the spring of 1765, Beaumarchais returned from Spain he found the -court plunged in mourning, for the Dauphin was very near his end. Concerts -for Mesdames were not to be thought of, so very naturally he found -himself drifting farther and farther from the social atmosphere of Court -life. We soon shall see him employing his spare moments in literary work -but before attempting to study Beaumarchais as an author, let us pause to -contemplate him as the lover. - -Like most romances connected with the life of this unusual character, the -affair which we are now about to consider is not a romance pure and -simple, but has also a very prosaic, business-like, matter-of-fact side. -It would seem that the story has come down to us only because there was a -question of money involved, and of money never repaid to Beaumarchais. In -the words of Loménie, “We thank heaven that there was really a matter of -business, that is to say, a debt at the end of this love affair, or else -it would have met the fate of other episodes of the same nature, the -papers relating to which have been destroyed, and so it is in the august -character of _pièces justicatives_ that some very tender letters of an -amiable young lady have been able to traverse the years.” - -The amiable young lady in question, Pauline, was a charming creole, born -on the island of Santo Domingo, then belonging to France. She had lost her -parents in early infancy and was brought to Paris, where she was received -by an aunt who became a second mother to the young girl. The family estate -was estimated to be worth two million francs, but as it was heavily -encumbered with debts and in a run-down condition Pauline was no such -heiress as at first it would appear. - -She was beautiful, however, and is described by those who knew her as -tender, delicate, and childlike, with a bewitching voice and good musical -ability. The family of Pauline at Paris became intimate with that of the -Carons about the time that Beaumarchais made his first acquaintance with -Paris du Verney. - -From the first, Beaumarchais was much attracted to the beautiful girl, -then about eighteen years of age, and as may be imagined had little -difficulty in arousing in her a corresponding sentiment. Before demanding -her hand in marriage, however, he decided to send a commissioner to Santo -Domingo to look carefully into the condition of her affairs and to see -what would be best to do for the re-establishment of the estate. An uncle -of Beaumarchais, M. Pichon, accepted the commission and set out for Santo -Domingo provided with 20,000 francs in money and a cargo of merchandise of -which he was to dispose to the best advantage possible. Having taken this -step, Beaumarchais wrote the following letter to Pauline in which prudence -shows itself quite as clearly as sentiment. - -“You thought me sad, my dear and amiable Pauline; I was only preoccupied; -I had a thousand things to say to you which seem so serious, so important, -that I have thought it wise to put them upon paper so that you can better -grasp their import. You could not have doubted, my dear Pauline, that a -sincere and lasting attachment was the true cause of all that I have done -for you. Although I have been discreet enough not to seek your hand in -marriage until I was in a situation to give you your proper station, my -whole conduct must have proved to you that I had designs upon your future -and that they were honorable. To-day, now that my funds are engaged for -the re-establishment of your affairs I am hoping for the sweet fruits of -my labors; I even said something to your uncle yesterday, who seemed -favorably disposed toward me. I must avow to you that I took the liberty -of assuring him that I believed that your consent would not be refused me -and I explained clearly to him my intentions. Pardon, my dear Pauline, it -was without presumption that I was led to make the avowal to him. It -seemed to me that your constant friendship for me was the guarantee of -what I advanced. Do you disavow it? - -“There is one thing, however, which still deters me, even though, my -amiable Pauline, with proper management and a reasonable economy, it is -probable that the actual state of my affairs is such that I have enough to -make your destiny agreeable, which is the only desire of my heart; yet if -through some terrible misfortune all the money which I send to Santo -Domingo should be engulfed in the ruinous condition of an affair of which -we as yet know nothing but from the testimony of others, these funds -deducted from my fortune will no longer permit me to support a condition -such as I would have given you; and what would be my sorrow if that were -the case! - -“This disquietude is the only reason that has forced me to retard the -demand for your hand, after which I have sighed for so long a time. - -“I do not know what claims you have upon the property of your dear uncle, -either in regard to the dowry of your late aunt or for the debts of which -I have heard indirectly spoken. It seems very improper for me to broach -this subject to you or to him. I revolt at the thought. Nevertheless, my -dear Pauline, in order to pass a happy life, one must be without -uneasiness as to the future, and no sooner should I have you in my arms -than I must begin to tremble lest some misfortune should cause the loss of -the funds which I have sent to America; because I have placed no less than -80,000 francs aside for this purpose. - -“This then, my dear Pauline, is the cause of my silence which must have -seemed strange after all I have done. - -“There are two ways out of this difficulty if you accept my proposal; the -first is to have patience until the entire success of my plans and the -security of my capital permits me to offer you something assured; the -second is that you engage your aunt to sound your uncle upon what -dispositions he intends to make in regard to you. Far, however, from -wishing to diminish his comfort in order to augment yours, I am entirely -ready to make sacrifices on my part, to render his old age more agreeable -if the actual condition of his own affairs holds him in restraint. But if -the tenderness which he feels for you leads him to favor your interests, -my intentions would never be to permit him to transfer to you anything -during his lifetime, but since in case of his death he would be no longer -able to enjoy the use of it himself, it does not seem improper to make a -similar request of an uncle who takes the place of a father to you, and -who has the right to expect your care and your attentions to make his old -age agreeable. Assured from this side, we could then conclude our happy -marriage, my dear Pauline, and look upon the money sent away as a _pierre -d’attente_, thrown out into the future, to render it more agreeable if it -succeeds, but which the future benevolence of your uncle would make good -in case of loss. - -“Reflect seriously upon what I have written you. Give me your advice in -reply. My tenderness for you will always have the ascendency over my -prudence. My fate is in your hands; yours is in the hands of your uncle.” - -This must have seemed a very solemn and business-like letter for a young -colonial unused to the minute exactitude of a French _ménagère_. Her reply -shows that the heart had discovered what it most desired to know, but that -the mind was confused by the mass of detail on the matter of her fortune -which after all must have seemed to her a matter of but secondary -importance. - -She wrote in reply: “Your letter, Monsieur, my good friend, has thrown me -into extreme distress; I did not feel strong enough to reply myself; nor -did I feel either that I ought to communicate it to my aunt, her -tenderness for me which is her chief merit in regard to me, could not help -me in the least. You will no doubt be very much astonished when you learn -the intrepid act which I decided upon; the moment was favorable, your -letter urgent, my embarrassment more inspiring than the most prudent -counsel. I went and threw myself into the arms of my uncle, I opened to -him my heart without reserve, I implored his advice and his tenderness. At -last I dared to show him your letter, although without your permission my -good friend; all this was done on the impulse but how glad I am that I -overcame my timidity, so that he could read into my soul! It seemed to me -that my confidence in him augmented his fondness for me. In truth, my good -friend, I did well to go to him. I acquired in reasoning with him the -certitude of his attachment for me, and what pleases me still more I found -him full of esteem for you and he also renders you all the justice which I -am sure you merit. I love my uncle a thousand times more because of this. -As to the business of your letter, he wishes to confer with you himself. I -should manage this too badly to undertake it. He wishes to see you very -soon. You have written me that your fate is in my hands, and that mine is -in the hands of my uncle; in my turn I give my interests over to you, if -you love me as I believe, you will be able to cause a little of your ardor -to pass over to my uncle; he complains that he is bound already. - -“My good friend, in this conversation, your heart and your mind must work -at the same time; nothing resists you when you really set your heart upon -it. Give me this proof of your tenderness. I shall regard your success in -this as the most convincing proof of the zeal which you have for what you -so sweetly call your happiness and which your Pauline could not read -without a fearful beating of the heart. Adieu, my good friend, I hope that -your first visit when you come back from Versailles, will be to my uncle. -Think of all the respect which you owe him if he is to be yours. I stop, -for I feel myself ready to write foolishly. _Bonsoir, méchant!_” - -Whatever may have taken place at the meeting between Beaumarchais and the -uncle, the results were not such as permitted an immediate marriage. It -was therefore postponed until the Santo Domingo matter cleared itself. In -the meantime, the lovers saw each other frequently and in the intervals -letters were exchanged. Those of Beaumarchais are in every tone; sometimes -a lengthy and profound dissertation on the nature of love which accords -well with the philosophic side which is by no means the least developed in -his surprisingly complex character; others reveal some touch of a longing -for the deeper sentiment of a pure affection which shall be all his own; -while others totally at variance with these are in a light jovial vein. -The following presents an epistle of this type: - -“_Bonjour_, my aunt; I embrace you, my amiable Pauline; your servitor, my -charming Perrette. My little children, love one another; this is the -precept of the apostle word for word. May the evil that one of you wishes -another fall back upon his own head; this is the malediction of the -prophet. This part of my discourse is not made for tender, feeling souls -like yours, I know it, and I never think without an extreme satisfaction -how nature, which has made you so amiable, has given you such a portion of -sensibility, of equity, and of moderation which permits you to live so -happily together and me to be in the midst of so charming a society. This -one will love me as a son, that one as a friend and my Pauline, uniting -all these sentiments in her good little heart, will inundate me with a -deluge of affection, to which I will reply following the power given by -Providence to your zealous servitor, your sincere friend, your future.... -_Peste!_ what a serious word I was going to pronounce! It would have -passed the limits of the profound respect with which I have the honor to -be, Mademoiselle, etc., etc.” - -Matters were at this pass when Beaumarchais left Paris for Madrid. Soon -after his arrival there, news of an alarming nature began to reach France -from Santo Domingo. The uncle had met with an unscrupulous relative of -Pauline and very soon money and merchandise were lost, and as a crowning -misfortune the uncle suddenly died. - -The elder Caron, in writing to his son, seems to have intimated a -suspicion of foul play, for the son replies from Madrid, after quoting a -line from his father’s letter, “What do you mean by that? If it is simply -that our funds are lost that is a misfortune no doubt, but truly the other -thought is far worse. My heart aches to think of my poor uncle who, having -a presentiment of misfortune and death, went to meet his fate with so much -good grace; but do not believe that anyone has hastened his end, for we -have no proof and the suspicion is the most odious that can enter into the -mind of man; the climate alone, even where there are no worries or -enfeeblement, carries off two-thirds of the men and it is certainly -sufficient calamity for us to feel that we have sent him to a natural -death, without gnawing our hearts out by the dreadful idea that we sent -him there to be a victim. - -“My sisters at Madrid know nothing of my real sorrow. I could have wished -that you yourself might have been spared the knowledge of it.” - -That Beaumarchais conceived the idea of himself going to the West Indies, -is proved by a passage in one of his letters to his father in which he -speaks of his design to sell his appointment at court and go with Pauline -to settle in Santo Domingo. - -Through some of the letters of the elder Caron we have a picture of the -delightful home life of the family and the gaiety of the sisters of this -brilliant brother. On the 22nd of January, the father writes, “Nothing -more beautiful than the festival at Beaufort could be imagined. -Boisgarnier and Pauline shone with their usual brilliancy. They danced -until two, after the concert and the supper; there was nothing wanting but -our Beaumarchais.” - -Julie also wrote to a friend. “We played comedies and we made love, there -was a company of forty-five persons and your Julie pleased generally in -all her rôles. Everyone declared her one of the best actresses. What I say -here is not to praise her, because every one knows how modest she is; it -is only because of your weakness, and to justify your choice in having -made her your friend. We are preparing another more agreeable festival for -the return of my brother.” - -Of Julie’s manner of love-making we shall permit her to tell us, a little -later, in her own way. For the moment, let it suffice to state the fact, -that a certain Chevalier du S----, a gifted young man with no fortune, but -with a name and a position of honor, had been for some time very assiduous -in his attention to the favorite sister of Beaumarchais. He had been well -received by the family and had asked her hand in marriage. He was also a -native of Santo Domingo, though in no way connected with Pauline, whom he -met for the first time at the home of his friends, in rue de Condé. - -It does not concern us in the study which we are making to enter very -deeply into the merits of this young man since in the end he does not ally -himself with the family; we shall, however, be forced to speak of him -later, as it is he who turns out to be the other Clavico, who deserts -Julie and carries off Pauline. In how far these two are justified for -their double desertion, the reader may judge if he has the patience to -follow the story to its completion. For the present, let us turn our -attention to another pair of lovers, less romantic, perhaps, at least so -far as the hero is concerned,--but possessed of more sterling qualities. - -It will be remembered that the youngest sister of Beaumarchais, -Mademoiselle de Boisgarnier, was rather an attractive, though slightly -affected, little body. A certain young man, Janot de Miron, had been -introduced into the home of the Caron family and had fallen much in love -with the rather disdainful young woman in question. - -She seems in the beginning to have been but slightly touched by his ardent -addresses. She did not find him elegant enough for her fastidious taste. -But Miron was a tenacious young man whose ardor was only stimulated by the -coldness and disdain of her whose heart he never despaired of conquering. - -Beaumarchais, unconscious of this and seeing his sister’s indifference, -had written from Madrid proposing another alliance. Miron, learning of the -interference of his friend, promptly grew furious and wrote an indignant -letter in which he indulged freely in injurious personalities. - -The reply of Beaumarchais is so characteristic and shows so clearly the -crude strength of his nature as well as his sense of justice that we take -from it a rather long extract. The affair once settled, true to the -instincts of his warm heart, the matter was not only forgiven but also -completely forgotten. - -Beaumarchais wrote: “It is my turn to reply, my dear Miron, to the very -astounding letter which I have just received from you.... I want to tell -you now, that long ago I was tired of sacrifices and that my one desire -has been that everyone around me should be happy; you alone seem to -imagine that you have the right to complain of my proceedings. I am not -touched by your reproaches, I have done my duty by everyone. I do not need -to prove this, that does not concern me now--but to refute the most heavy, -awkward, disagreeable jesting which is the tone of your letter, my friend. -I am most astonished that those Sapphos of sisters of mine did not prevent -your putting such impertinence into the post. It is a fact that you are -not made for jesting but for more serious matters. Nothing could be more -ridiculous than to see you attempt the lighter vein, which does very well -for the little dog of La Fontaine, but which is disgusting in more solid -animals. More than this, your ideas are based upon a foundation so false -and so equivocally set forth that they fill me with pity.... As far as my -sister is concerned, I shall be very happy if I find her married as her -heart dictates when I return; if I find her unmarried, I shall put no -obstacle in the way of her happiness. I have two left for whom I will -provide according to the turn which my affairs take on.... I am in no -haste for either of them for I have certain ideas about the future which -make me feel that the longer they wait the less they will regret not -having been in too much of a hurry. - -“And now since I do not pretend to give myself airs in disposing of any of -my family without their consent, it would have been easy to draw from me -an explanation which would have made your letter unnecessary. I am -returning the missive to you that you may have the pleasure of regaling -yourself thereon if by chance you have not kept a copy. - -“For the rest, your desire to marry my sister is an honor to her--I repeat -it--and she is entirely free to choose you if you satisfy her; far from -trying to prevent it I give my consent from to-day forth--but always with -the understanding that you never confound the rights which you will -acquire over her as her husband, with those which you can never have over -me. This is what I wish to tell you once for all in order that nothing of -this kind may ever again happen between us. - -“I take the liberty of begging you to keep to the only tone which will -pass with me--that of friendship. I have need neither of a preceptor who -pretends to explore into the motives of my actions, nor of a pedagogue who -takes it upon himself to instruct me. - -“I do not know why Julie should have communicated to you that which I -wrote, and I am still more astonished that she has imagined that your -ridiculous letter could affect me. It is my intention never to return to -this subject, therefore I beg her by this letter, never again to suffer in -her presence that anyone fails in the respect which is due me. I am so -indulgent truly, that this need not be denied me. - -“You will receive this letter by the way of my father, who sent me yours, -so that _All The Family_ may be the witnesses of the way in which I accept -your jesting. - -“It is not very agreeable to me to think that my sisters, not wishing to -take with me an improper tone, make it their business to pass on to me -your words, to relieve themselves of the restraint they have before me. - -“After this, jest on as much as you like, you will receive nothing from me -to engage a serious quarrel. When you know so little of my life, however, -you will spare me your commentaries. - -“I am none the less, my dear Miron, your servant and friend - - “Beaumarchais.” - -As he himself has said, “with good hearts, anger is only a pressing need -for pardon,” so the matter was not difficult to settle. August 27th, 1764, -he writes to Julie, “How is everybody, the christian pedagogue first of -all?” and Oct. 26th of the same year, “I have received your letter of the -9th by which you confirm all that has been told me of the moderation of -Boisgarnier. I thank her sincerely. Miron has written to me, but while -reading, I felt like saying, ‘Miron, what do you want of me with this -beautiful letter? A month ago my anger was all gone and all this seems to -me but tiresome repetition.’” - -In spite of her moderation the youngest sister seems to have sided with -her brother at her lover’s expense, for we soon find the former pleading -with her in a letter addressed to his father from Madrid, dated January -14, 1765. - - “Monsieur and very dear father: - -“I have received your last letter dated December 31st--and that of -Boisgarnier. Her reply gave me much pleasure. She is a droll creature, but -she has a good deal of intelligence and rectitude of character; now, if I -am in any way the cause of the coldness between her and her friend, I say -in advance that I have entirely given up my resentment and she will do -well to follow my example. For whatever opinion he may have of me, I am -determined not to quarrel with him. - -“The only thing that can hurt me is that he should speak ill of my heart, -I don’t care what he says of my mind. The first will always be at his -service and the second ready to give him a drubbing if he needs it.... - -[Illustration: Princess de Lamballe] - -“I am indeed sorry if they cannot agree, for Miron is a man who does not -lack a single quality which should make an honest woman happy; and if my -Boisgarnier is less touched by these qualities than by the defects of a -few frivolous attractions (which for my part I do not deny him) then I -should say that she is a child who has not yet acquired that experience -which prefers happiness to pleasure. To say absolutely what I think, I am -convinced that he is right to prefer his qualities to mine, for there are -many points where I do not feel that I possess either his virtue or his -constancy, and these things are of great price when it is a question of a -union for life. - -“Therefore I invite my Boisgarnier not to think of our friend except in -regard to what there is of him which is infinitely estimable, and soon the -matter will adjust itself. I was furious with him for twenty-four -hours--nevertheless there is no other man whom I would prefer to be -associated with as a brother-in-law. - -“I understand all that Boisgarnier would say--yes, he plays on the -hurdy-gurdy, that is true, his heels are half an inch too high, he has a -nasal twang when he sings--he eats raw apples at night, he is cold and -didactic when he talks,--he has a certain awkwardness of manner in -everything he does; but still the good people of the rue Condé ought not -to be offended at such things;--a wig, a waist coat, a pair of clogs ought -not to drive anyone away when he excels in matters of the heart and his -mind is in keeping. Adieu Boisgarnier, here is a long article for thee.” - -It is interesting to find Beaumarchais candidly acknowledging the lack of -certain qualities in himself which at least he knows how to appreciate in -others. In his relations with Pauline it will be seen that whatever her -real motives may have been, she uses what she considers his inconstancy as -a pretext later for her break with him. However, to do him justice, it -must be affirmed that there is no evidence that he ever for a moment -entertained an idea of abandoning her, or that in his heart he meant to be -untrue; yet the fact remains that other women did not lose their charm for -him because of her, and while at Madrid he was far from denying himself -consolation for being deprived of her society. His letters to her were by -no means frequent enough, nor ardent enough to satisfy the longings of a -romantic young girl. - -Already before his departure for Madrid, he seems to have given ground for -complaint, as we find Julie accusing him of levity in a letter to a friend -while at the same time she paints in her merriest vein the love-sick -condition of the family. - -“Our house,” she wrote, “is a dovecote where everyone lives on love and -hope; I am the one who laughs more than the others, because I am the least -in love; Beaumarchais is a perverse being who by his levity teases and -grieves Pauline. Boisgarnier and Miron discuss sentiment till one loses -one’s breath, and impassion themselves with order up to the point of a -sublime disorder. The Chevalier and I are worse than all that; he is as -loving as an angel, passionate as a seraph, while I am as gay as a linnet, -and malicious as a demon. Love does not make me lon-lan-la like the -others, and yet in spite of my madness I could not keep from tasting of -it. More’s the pity!” - -Beaumarchais wrote from Madrid, “I have this afternoon been to the French -Ambassador’s in the _carosse_ of Madame the Marquise de La Croix, who has -the goodness to drive me everywhere with her six mules. She is a charming -lady who has great credit here by her rank, but still more by reason of -her intelligence and the graces which make her dear to all the world. Her -society dissipates the dust, the inaction, the ennui, the impatience which -seize everyone who remains long in this place. I should die in this dull -city if it were not for this delicious company.” - -It is quite evident that Beaumarchais is thinking little of Pauline and he -will soon find to his chagrin, that she has ceased to think any longer so -tenderly of him. - -He has not, however, forgotten her interests in Santo Domingo nor his -project of going there to settle in case the turn of his affairs should -point to that move as the best solution of the difficulties, but in the -meantime, he amuses himself in his moments of leisure in the pleasantest -way that offers itself. - -But not only were the sisters of Beaumarchais living on hope and love, the -elder Caron himself was entertaining the same guests as is proved by the -following letter written by his son from Madrid. - -“Monsieur and very dear father:-- - -“I am not surprised at your attachment for Madame Henry; she is -cheerfulness itself, and has one of the best hearts that I know. I could -wish you might have been happy enough to inspire a more lively return of -affection. She would make you happy and you would certainly render -agreeable this union founded upon reciprocal affection and an esteem which -has lasted twenty-five years. If I were you, I know very well how I should -go about it, and if I were she, I know also very well how I should reply; -but I am neither the one nor the other and it is not for me to clear up -this affair of yours, I have enough of my own.” - -To which the elder Caron replied, September 19th, 1764, “We supped -yesterday with my dear and good friend who laughed heartily when she saw -the article in your letter, imagining as she very well could, the way in -which you would go about this affair if you were in my place, so that as -she says, she only embraces you with all her heart, because you are nine -hundred miles away.” - -But though the amiable Madame Henry was quite ready to laugh at the -article in the son’s letter she does not appear to have been in any hurry -to change the relationship which had so long existed between herself and -the elder Caron, for shortly before his return from Madrid we find -Beaumarchais writing in relation to the same matter: “A man ought not to -be alone. One must hold to something in this life, and the society of your -sons and daughters can only be sacrificed to another much sweeter, but -which you do not seem on the point of acquiring. I precede my arrival by a -picture of what should be, so that you may have time to determine what you -ought to do before my return, which will be soon. What happiness for me, -if on reaching there I could on the same day see assured the felicity of -my father and my sister.” - -Unfortunately for us, Beaumarchais returned from Spain in May, 1765, so -that the correspondence ceased and with it, our means of following in -detail the lives of those in whom we have begun to take so warm an -interest. The “felicity” of the father we know, however, to have been -consummated, for on January 15, 1766, he was united in marriage with the -woman of his choice, Madame Henry, she being then sixty years of age and -he sixty-eight. After two years of happy married life, Madame Caron died -and we find her husband again returning to the rue Condé to live with his -dearly loved son. - -In the meantime, Mademoiselle de Boisgarnier had taken the advice of her -brother, and we cannot for a moment doubt that she acted wisely; for her -lover, Janot de Miron, seems to have been a man of exceptionally fine -character. Referring to the letter already quoted in which Beaumarchais -pleads with his sister for her friend, M. de Loménie says, “In reading -this eulogy of poor Miron, where his moral qualities are exalted rather to -the detriment of his brilliant ones, we have need to remember that -Beaumarchais previously had declared his friend was not wanting in -external accomplishments; and truly he was not. Miron, judging from his -letters was rather pedantic, but in no way stupid. The taste for poetry -and art, which reigned in the Caron family was no stranger to him. After -several years of torment, he succeeded in touching that disdainful little -heart and thus his constancy was rewarded. Mademoiselle de Boisgarnier, -suitably endowed by her brother, married in 1767 M. de Miron, whom the -influence of Beaumarchais later succeeded in having appointed _Secrétaire -des Commandements du Prince de Conti_. - -In all these matters it will be seen that Beaumarchais did not set himself -up to be dictator in his family but was actuated solely by the desire to -see consummated the dearest wish of those about him. Pauline he accepted -as a settled fact of his existence, treating her as though he were her -brother rather than her lover. His taste led him naturally to women more -mature in years and experience, and he was far less sentimental than -Pauline. - -We shall see presently, as we come to treat of Beaumarchais as an author, -that though through flashes of inspiration he may at times attain the -heights of the heroic, yet he has in reality small sympathy with it, -either in life or literature. At no time, do we find him possessed of one -of those absorbing passions which devour all lesser ones and which alone -make sacrifice, not only necessary but easy; sacrifice is always -distasteful to him. He has an intense desire to be happy and to have all -about him happy. We must not expect, in this wise to find him a hero. -Beaumarchais is pre-eminently a modern man, and it is no accident that he -should have been an instrument to aid in laying the foundations of that -modern nation, which more than any other, has brought case and comfort -within the reach of every class and condition of men. - - - - - CHAPTER V - - _“Les serments - Des amants - Sont légers comme les vents, - Leur air enchanteur, - Leur douceur - Sont des pièges trompeurs - Cachés sous des fleurs.”_ - - _Séguedille de Beaumarchais_ - - New study of Beaumarchais by Lintilhac--Beaumarchais’s Return - from Madrid--The Lover of Julie Carries off Pauline--the - _Règlement de compte_ which Terminated this Romantic Chapter - of the Life of Beaumarchais. - - -Among the numerous studies of the life of Beaumarchais which the admirable -and scholarly work of M. de Loménie stimulated into being, none takes a -higher place than that of Eugène Lintilhac. Fired into enthusiasm by the -work of Loménie, and having as he has said, his curiosity rather -stimulated than satisfied thereby, he demanded of the descendants of -Beaumarchais leave to examine for himself the entire mass of manuscript -which had served as the foundation of that great work. He was also -actuated, as he tells us, by the sentiment so forcibly expressed by Gudin, -“I soon found that I could not love him moderately when I came to know him -in his home,” and it was this sentiment which made him desire to refute -from direct evidence some unsympathetic writings which had appeared, -writings in which the character of Beaumarchais is inverted and all his -great and disinterested actions viewed from the standpoint of whatever was -ordinary about him, or whatever could be tortured into appearing so, thus -making everything seem petty and contemptible, as when a telescope is -reversed and all its power directed towards diminishing the objects upon -which it is turned. - -Many of the letters which we have already quoted were first published by -him, and we shall have occasion, more than once to have recourse to his -volume. In the family correspondence M. Lintilhac found several fragments -of letters written by friends and especially by one M. de la Chataignerie, -a man at that time well advanced in years, but devoted to the interests of -his friend and who had been left with a certain oversight of the family. -He wrote: “The dear sister, who though slightly indisposed, conserves her -reason, at least so far as essentials go, begs you to bring everything -that you find which is good in all the places where you pass, even the -hams of Bayonne. Time presses because the little dog of a Boisgarnier -drives me to despair, and beats me--it is true that I deserve no better. -Adieu, adieu--deliver me from my guardianship!” - -And M. Lintilhac continues: “Nevertheless the care does not rest -altogether on him, the main part falls on Julie--who keeps the purse, -which is no small matter, for we find that, by the 17th of November she -already had given out from 7000 to 8000 francs. We must believe that they -were well expended because she no doubt followed the programme traced for -her by her brother. ‘I recommend to you economy as the mother of comfort,’ -and he adds without joking, ‘modesty as the amiable companion of great -success.’ He wishes that the family, ‘think of him a little in his -absence.’ ‘Men are vain,’ he adds, ‘they like to be flattered.’” - -Beaumarchais, just before leaving Spain, wrote: “So I am putting my whole -mind on my business, my Father, while my misfortune causes me to lose 2000 -_écus_ of income from the provisions of France which dissolve especially -to ruin me, the King of Spain and the Ministers cast their eyes on me to -be at the head of those in Spain, as my old Du Verney is of those in -France. There is talk of joining to this the furnishing in general of all -the grain needed for Spain as well as the fabrication of saltpetre and -powder, so that I may find myself suddenly at the head of a company for -providing provisions, subsistencies, munitions and agricultural products. - -“Keep this for the family and see that my prospects, honest as they are, -are known only by their success.” - -And Julie replied in her tenderest vein, “My Beaumarchais, my amiable -genius, I have seen your letters, your projects, your work and nothing -surprises me, not even your philosophizing over our sad news. When any one -appreciates you as I do, one has the right to count upon astonishing -things. Assuredly we will keep the secret; but when do you return? My -heart rebels at your long absence.” - -M. Lintilhac continues: “We know his grand projects did not receive the -aid and sanction of the ministry, but they were dismissed with flattering -compliments for him. All his plans, however, had not proved abortive as -has so often been said, because on returning to France he writes to his -father from Bordeaux, April 2nd, 1765, ‘I am now at Bordeaux, I don’t know -whether I shall leave to-morrow or the next day. My Spanish business -requires certain information which I can obtain only here, or in some -other seaport. - -“‘I received a letter from Durand at Madrid very satisfactory in regard to -the obliging regrets of the honest people of Madrid as well as for the -affairs to which I have there attached him. I am absolutely alone, my -valet de chambre stayed at Bayonne with a groom and three beautiful -horses, which at Paris ought to pay the price of their journey as well as -my own.’” - -No record has come down to us of the meeting of Beaumarchais and his -family after their long separation, but now that we know them all so -intimately it is not difficult to reconstruct the scene, the venerable -father pressing his son to his bosom, the tears of tenderness welling to -his eyes, the sisters rushing to embrace him, the friends and domestics -even, eager to clasp his hand, and all radiant with the thought of having -him in their midst. Then this outburst of affection over, what gaiety and -mirth follow, and all that human expansiveness which comes so -spontaneously from the heart! - -But though the family tie remained as strong as ever, a decided change had -come already into the situation between him and Pauline. Nevertheless, -matters were smoothed over and the marriage was definitely decided upon. -Misunderstandings, however, continued from time to time, and in the midst -of these troubles, a rumor reached the ears of Beaumarchais, that the -Chevalier du S. had intentions upon Pauline. Beaumarchais, furious, wrote -a letter to the Chevalier who in turn defended himself in a letter which -is as follows: “It seems to me, Monsieur, that a counterfeit story ought -to find less credit in your eyes than in those of others, since you have -been all your life the butt of such reports. For the rest, I beg you to -believe that I do not write to obtain grace, but because I owe to Mlle. de -L. B.--to make known the truth upon a point which compromises her, and -because it would be hard and very hard for me to lose your esteem.” - -Pauline replied to the same charge with an indifference which shows a -great change of sentiment on her part. - -“As I was ignorant of the project of M. le Chevalier before I received -your letter, and as I know nothing of the matter, you will permit me to -inform myself before I reply. As to the reproach which you make in regard -to Julie, I do not feel that I merit it, if I have not sent to know how -she is, it is because I have been assured that she was very much better -and had been seen at her window, which made me think that it was true. If -my aunt were not ill, which prevents my leaving, I would assuredly go to -see her. I embrace her with all my heart.” - -M. de Loménie says: “The two were perhaps innocent at that moment, if I -can judge from a letter of a cousin of Pauline’s and a friend of -Beaumarchais, very badly treated by the latter in regard to this affair, -‘When you have a more tranquil mind so that you will do me justice,’ says -the cousin, ‘I will speak openly with you and prove to you that you, who -condemn others so easily, are more culpable than those you believe to be -dissimulating and perfidious. Nothing is so pure as the heart of the dear -Pauline, nothing nobler than that of the Chevalier, or more sincere than -my own, and you look upon all three as though we were monsters.’” - -The above letter of November 8, 1765, is all we have to fix the date of -the previous one. During the interval which follows, it is impossible to -determine exactly what happened, but true it is that by February 11th, -1766, the definite rupture had taken place and even the cousin undertakes -no longer to shield the “dear Pauline.” As to the Chevalier, who a year -before had written of Julie, “She is the unique object of my tenderest -desires,” it may be that Julie herself had much to do with his -estrangement, for in a letter already quoted we have her own authority for -believing that she was never very deeply in love, and her “maliciousness,” -may have helped to cool the ardor of the Chevalier. Certain it is, that -Julie with all her warmth and expansiveness was not by nature any more -formed for absorbing passions than was her brother. A letter belonging to -a very much earlier period, proves that love was at no time a very serious -matter with her, while it paints to the life the gaiety of her character. -She writes, “You must know, my dear Lhénon upon what terms of folly I am -with your brother. His air of interest for me, of which I wrote a month -ago, has developed singularly and beautified itself since our friends have -gone to the country. He comes nearly every evening to supper and stays -till midnight or one o’clock. Ah my dear Lhénon, you should hear him -recounting to me, and me retorting in the same tone with that air of -_folie_ that you have always known me to possess; but in the midst of all -these pleasantries I have sometimes found a happy way of expressing -myself, so as to persuade him seriously that I do not love him, and I -believe him convinced, although I have never said half as many sweet -things to him as I do now, because of an agreement which we have to love -each other two days of the week, he has chosen Monday and Saturday, and I -took Thursday and Sunday. On those days we say very tender things, -although it is agreed that there shall always be one _farouche_ when the -other loves.” - -This to be sure was a girlish fancy, but the character of Julie retained -to the end much of the _folie_ of which she here speaks, without, -however, in the least impairing its real seriousness. But whatever the -cause, the fact remains that the Chevalier du S. declared himself to -Pauline, who in turn disengaged herself from Beaumarchais. The -correspondence ended with two long letters from the latter and one short, -dry note from Pauline. M. de Loménie in speaking of the letters of -Beaumarchais observes, “In novels each impulse of the human heart is -ordinarily painted separately with vivid colors, well marked and without -blending. In reality, things seldom pass that way; when one impulse is not -strong enough to stifle all the others, which generally is the case, the -human heart presents a confused medley where the most diverse sentiments, -often directly opposite, speak at the same time.” It is thus that in the -letters which are given, one can discern in the heart of Beaumarchais, to -quote Loménie, “a remnant of love reawakening, excited by jealousy and -restricted in its expression by vanity, scruples of delicacy and honor, -the fears of ‘what they will say,’ the need to prove that he has no -reproach to make to himself, the determination to wed, and yet perhaps a -certain fear of being taken at his word, because, although these letters -contain a very formal offer of marriage, they also contain certain -passages sufficiently mortifying, so that the pride of Pauline would reply -by a refusal. Again it is evident that Beaumarchais fears a refusal and -whether from love or self esteem he wishes to triumph.” - -“You have renounced me,” he wrote to Pauline, “and what time have you -chosen to do it? The very moment which I had announced to your friends and -mine, would be that of our union. I have seen the perfidy which has caused -everything to turn against me, even to my offers. I have seen you, you who -have so often sighed at the injustice which others have done me, join -yourself to them to create wrongs of which I never thought. If I had not -had the intention of marrying you, would I have put so little form into -the services which I rendered you? Would I have assembled your friends and -mine two months before your refusal, to announce to them my resolution? -Everything has turned against me. The conduct of a friend, two-faced and -perfidious, in giving me a cruel lesson, has taught me that there is no -woman so honest and so tender who cannot be seduced and made to change. -Also the contempt of all those who have seen him act, is his just -recompense. Let us come back to you. It is not without regret that I have -turned my thoughts from you, since the first heat of my resentment has -passed, and when I insisted that you should write formally that you -refused my offer of marriage, there was mixed with my chagrin, an obscure -curiosity to see whether you would take this last step with me; to-day I -must know absolutely how I stand. I have received very advantageous -propositions of marriage, on the point of accepting I felt myself suddenly -arrested; I do not know what scruple of honor, what return toward the -past, made me hesitate. I have every reason to feel myself free and -disengaged from you after all that has passed; nevertheless, I am far from -tranquil, your letters do not say formally enough what is most important -for me to know. Reply truly, I beg of you. Have you so completely -renounced me that I am free to contract with another woman? Consult your -heart upon this point, while my delicacy questions you. If you totally -have cut the knot which should unite us, don’t fear to tell me so. In -order that your _amour-propre_ be completely at ease upon the demand which -I make, I add this, that in writing to you I have put back everything to -where it was before all these storms. My demand would not be just if, -setting a trap for you, I did not give you the liberty of choice in your -reply. Let your heart answer alone. If you do not give me back my liberty, -write me that you are the same Pauline, sweet and tender for life, whom I -used to know, and that you believe yourself happy to belong to me, -instantly I break with everything that is not you. If your heart is turned -to another, and invincibly estranged from me, do me the justice of -admitting that I have been honest with you. Give to the bearer of this, -the declaration which frees me and I shall feel that I have accomplished -my duty and shall have no reproach to make myself. Adieu, I am, up to the -moment of your reply, under whatever title it shall please you to choose, -Mademoiselle, your very humble servant, etc. - - De Beaumarchais.” - -A few hours later followed a second letter: “I send you back the package -of your letters, if you keep them, join mine to your reply. The reading of -your letters has moved me deeply, I do not wish again to experience that -pain, but before replying examine well what is the best for you, as well -for your fortune as for your happiness. My intent is that, forgetting -everything, we pass our days in tranquillity and happiness. Do not let the -fear of living with the members of my family who do not please you arrest -your sensibility, if another passion has not extinguished it. My home is -so arranged that whether it be you, or whether it be another, my wife -shall be the peaceful and happy mistress there. Your uncle laughed in my -face when I reproached him with having opposed me. He told me that his -opinion was that I need not fear a refusal or else that his niece’s head -had been turned. It is true that at the moment of renouncing you forever, -I felt an emotion which showed me that I held more strongly to you than I -thought. What I write therefore is from the sincerest faith in the world. -Don’t flatter yourself ever to give me the chagrin to see you the wife of -a certain man. He must be very daring to think of raising his eyes before -the public if he proposes to accomplish this double perfidy. Pardon me if -I grow warm! Never has that thought entered my mind that all my blood has -not boiled in my veins. - -“But whatever your resolution, don’t keep me waiting, because I have -suspended all my business to give myself over once more to you. Your uncle -tried to convince me that this marriage with you was not all to my -advantage, but I am very far from occupying myself with these -considerations. I wish to possess you only for yourself, and that it be -for life.... I admit that it would be sweet to me, if while the enemies -slept, peace should be concluded between us. Re-read your letters and you -will understand that I found again in the depths of my heart all the -sentiments that they had there called into being.” - -Loménie remarks: “The reply of Pauline is much more laconic and much more -direct. With her there is no conflict of sentiments: she does not love -Beaumarchais any more; that is very simple and very clear. - -“‘I can only repeat, Monsieur, what I said to Mademoiselle your sister, -that my stand is taken not to return, therefore I thank you for your -offers, and I desire with my whole heart that you may marry the person who -will make you happy; I assured Mademoiselle your sister of this. My aunt -and I feel it our duty to tell you how unhappy we are that you should fail -in respect to us in treating so badly a man whom we consider as our -friend. I know better than anyone else that you have no right to call him -perfidious. I said once more this morning to Mademoiselle your sister, -that a demoiselle who used to live with my aunt was the cause of what -happens to-day. You have still several of my letters which I ask you to -return. I will beg one of our friends to arrange with you about everything -which remains to be adjusted. I am, very perfectly, Monsieur, your very -humble and obedient servant, - - L. B----.’” - -Still quoting Loménie: “Pauline who used to sign herself, ‘I am for life -thy faithful Pauline’ now signs politely her family name, and so this -correspondence ends like so many others of the same nature, by, ‘I have -the honor to be,’ or ‘I am very perfectly’ which succeed the protestations -of an eternal love.” - -And now follows a second letter from the cousin in relation to this -unhappy affair, “All is said, my dear Beaumarchais, and without hope of -return. I have notified Madame G. (the aunt of Pauline) and Mlle. Le -B---- of your dispositions, they ask nothing better than to come to an -honorable arrangement in this rupture. It remains now to regulate the -account between Mlle. Le B---- and you, and to take measures to secure for -you the sum which is due. These ladies beg you to give back all the papers -which you have concerning the affairs of Mlle. Le B----. You cannot tell -how unhappy I am not to have been able to unite two hearts which for so -long have seemed to me made for each other, but man proposes and God -disposes. I flatter myself that on both sides the justice which I feel -belongs to me, will be rendered. I have let you read in my heart, and you -must have seen that I know neither disguisement nor artifice. Adieu, my -friend, I will go to see you as soon as I can; in the meantime write to -me. I embrace you, I am as always, - - “Your sincere friend P---- - “February 11th, 1766--” - -In the words of Loménie, “Let us accord this worthy cousin, whose -sentences are more consoling than new, the justice which he claims, and -acknowledge that he is a stranger to the perfidy of the Chevalier. If we -were writing a romance we would stop here, or else end with the death of -Beaumarchais, he killing himself in despair, or by the death of the -Chevalier, immolated by the fury of his rival; but as we are writing a -history we are obliged above all else to be exact and instead of stating -that the adventure ends by a suicide or a duel we are forced to state that -it terminates much more prosaically, by a _règlement de comptes_ where the -future author of the _Mariage de Figaro_ makes an amusing enough figure in -his rôle of betrayed lover and uneasy creditor.” - -There is, we must admit, an indefinable humor in the idea of the brilliant -genius Beaumarchais, deserted by his Pauline, seating himself, _le coeur -gros_, the tears of anger and mortification welling to his eyes, intent -upon regulating, with the same minute exactitude that he showed in making -the watch to be set as a jewel in a lady’s ring, the account existing -between him and Pauline. - -As a matter of fact, he had been far less prudent in his generous advances -of money than in the expression of his sentiments as a lover, for not only -had he risked large sums on the Santo Domingo property, but he had been in -the habit of advancing money both to Pauline and to her aunt without -keeping any special count. To return to the account of Loménie, “He groups -the capital with the interest and presents a bill of the most scrupulous -rectitude. The Chevalier, who has no time to bother with such vile -details, and who has gone to pass his honeymoon I don’t know where, sends -to Beaumarchais his older brother, the abbé du S----, respectable, but a -little quick tempered, who not only quibbles over the bill, but permits -himself sometimes to deepen a bleeding wound by opposing the lover to the -creditor. From that come stormy discussions, of which the following letter -of Beaumarchais to the abbé will serve as illustration. - -“‘Monsieur l’abbé, - -“‘I beg you to notice that I never have been lacking in politeness towards -you, but that I owe nothing but contempt for him whom you represent, as I -have had the honor of saying to you twenty times, and as I strongly would -have desired to say to him if he had been as exact in showing himself as -he has been clever in taking my place. The proof that Mlle. Le B---- -wished well of me, of my affection, of my counsels, of my money, is that -without your brother she would still make use of all my gifts which I -lavished upon her as long as they were agreeable and useful to her. It is -true that she bought my services very dear, since she owes to our -affection for your brother the happiness of having married him, which she -would not have done, if he had remained without knowing us in the place -where he then vegetated. I do not understand the secret of the phrase -about the apology, so I am dispensed with replying to it. I regret that he -is absent, only because I would have the greatest pleasure to testify to -him in person, what he can now only know through proxy. I shall not cease -to prepare myself for atrocities and injustices by benevolent acts. It -always has agreed with me very well to do good in the expectation of evil, -and your counsel adds nothing to my disposition in that regard. - -“‘Since you admit that you have lost your temper with me, it would be out -of place for me to reproach you with it. It is sufficient that you accuse -yourself, for me not to hold any resentment. - -“‘I do not know why you have underlined the words, “your sister,” in -recalling to me that I said that it was in this way that I loved Mlle. Le -B----. Does this irony fall back on her, on me, or on your brother? Just -as you please, for that matter. Although the fate of Mlle. Le B---- -interests me no longer, it would be out of place for me, in speaking -of her, to use other terms than those which I have employed. It is not her -that I blame; she is as you have said, young and without experience and -although she has very little fortune, your brother has used well his -experience and has made a good affair in marrying her. - -“‘Remember, I beg you, Monsieur l’abbé, that all which is addressed to him -has nothing to do with you. It would be too humiliating for a man of your -station to be suspected of having had any part in the perfidy of your -brother in my regard; let him bear the blame, and do not take up those -things which do not deserve to have a defender as honest as yourself. - -“‘I have the honor to be, etc. - - “‘Beaumarchais.’” - -The matter finally was adjusted and the account reduced to 24,441 livres, -4 sous, 4 deniers. - -One would almost think that after making such important reductions the sum -might have been rounded off by the omission of the 4 sous, 4 deniers. Not -so Beaumarchais--the whole debt might go unpaid for he was not a man to -make much trouble about that, but in any case, the matter must stand in -its absolute exactitude. M. de Loménie terminates this interesting -chapter of the life of Beaumarchais in the following manner: “And now I -demand pardon of the shade of the charming Pauline, but it seems certain -that this debt, recognized and accepted by her, was never paid. Not only -do I find it amongst papers of a later date classed as almost hopeless -debts, but the touching solicitude of the cashier Gudin, after the death -of his master, for the least letter of Pauline, is sufficient to -demonstrate that this too must be ranged amongst those debts recognized -but not dissolved, where so many amiable women, poets, and great lords -have left their traces in the papers of Beaumarchais. It is true that -Pauline was left a widow a year after her marriage, and this misfortune no -doubt spoiled the arrangement of her affairs--and I conclude that if the -young and beautiful Creole left her debt unpaid, it must have been because -the habitation of Santo Domingo was seized by the other creditors, or -plundered by the blacks or swallowed up by an earthquake.” - -For our part let us hasten to add that we are very grateful to the -Chevalier du S---- for carrying off Pauline. Charming as she was, she did -not possess those sterling qualities which alone could have enabled her to -be a real helpmeet to him in the terrible trials, which were preparing for -him. Overwhelmed as we shall presently see him, a nature like hers would -have been as a millstone about his neck, and he inevitably must have -succumbed. As we shall see, the woman who eventually comes to share his -life was of a very different mould. Misfortune and all the terrors of the -Revolution only served to bring into more striking relief the vigor of a -character already pronounced in its strength and womanliness. - -Our gratitude to the Chevalier du S---- is no less great, in that by -abstracting Pauline, he left to Beaumarchais the truest support of his -life, the woman who better than any one else understood the inmost -recesses of his nature, and who at no moment of his career failed in -giving him the affection, the encouragement, which he needed, and that -served as the solid basis upon which he could build. In leaving to -Beaumarchais the undisputed possession of his sister Julie, the Chevalier -du S---- has won our undying gratitude, and so in all sincerity we say, -_requiescat in pace_. - - - - - CHAPTER VI - -_“Je laisserai sans réponse tout ce qu’on a dit contre l’ouvrage, persuadé -que le plus grand honneur qu’on ait pu lui faire, après celui de s’en -amuser au théâtre, a été de ne pas le juger indigne de toute critique.”_ - - _Beaumarchais in “Essai sur le genre dramatique - sérieux,” prefixed to the edition of “Eugénie.”_ - - “_Eugénie_”--“_Les deux Amis_”--Second Marriage of - Beaumarchais--The Forest of Chinon--Death of Madame de - Beaumarchais. - - -The immediate effect of Pauline’s desertion of Beaumarchais was to turn -his thoughts from the gay world in which he was so brilliant and so -striking a figure, to the more sober realms of literature. His talent as -an author already had manifested itself by several farces and charades -written for his colleague, M. Lenormant d’Étioles, the husband of Madame -de Pompadour, at whose château d’Étioles they were produced. - -The very spicy charade, “_John Bête à la Foire_,” was written in 1762 for -a special festival given at this château in the forest of Senart. On this -occasion and on all similar occasions the farces of Beaumarchais found no -more spirited interpreters than his own sisters. Fournier says, “The -youngest played comedies with a surprising _verve de gaillardise_, and it -would seem, was not frightened by the most highly seasoned of her -brother’s productions. She and the Countess of Turpin played the leading -parts. Comedies and charades were also played enchantingly by Julie who -frequently arranged them in her own style; several scenes and not the -least spicy, according to family tradition, passing as her own -production.” - -But this vein of true Gallic wit which was later to carry its possessor to -almost unprecedented heights of fame was not in keeping with the spirit in -which Beaumarchais found himself during the winter of 1766. - -The entire family as we have seen possessed in an unusual degree a warm -life blood which burst spontaneously into joyful expression, but it showed -itself also in sentimental sallies. The English novelist, Richardson, was -a favorite with them all and we find Julie writing in her diary, about -this time, “I see in Beaumarchais a second Grandison; it is his genius, -his goodness, his noble and superior soul, equally sweet and honest. Never -a bitter sentiment for his enemies arises in his heart. He is the friend -of man. Grandison is the glory of all who surround him, and Beaumarchais -is their honor.” - -The father writing to his son during an illness said: “In the intervals -when I suffer less I read Grandison and in how many things I have found a -just and noble resemblance between him and my son. Father of thy sisters, -friend and benefactor of thy father, ‘if England,’ I said to myself, ‘has -her Grandison; France has her Beaumarchais; with this difference, that the -English Grandison is the fiction of an amiable writer, while the French -Beaumarchais really exists to be the consolation of my days.’” - -It was, therefore, Beaumarchais, as Grandison, whom we now find seriously -occupying himself with the thought of literature. Nor shall we be -surprised later to find those of the literary profession preparing to meet -him in very much the same spirit as did in the beginning M. Lepaute, -watchmaker, and a little later, _Messieurs les Courtisans_ at Versailles. -So long as his literary ambition limited itself to charades, farces, and -comic songs the antagonism of men of letters was not aroused; but that he -who had received no regular training in the schools should presume, _de se -mêler_, with serious literary productions was quite another matter. - -Lintilhac says: “But our immature author, shaking his _tête carrée_ braved -this danger like all the rest, arming himself with patience and _esprit_; -let us see him at his work. - -“A literary instinct had from the beginning led him straight to those -Gallic writers whose race he was destined to continue. We find him -studying Montaigne; he extracts notes and imitates Marot, translates in -verse and sets to music one of the hundred and twenty romances of the Cid -going against the Moors in the eleventh century. - -“But his taste for the ancestor of the _esprit français_ is not exclusive; -he is happy to find it among their direct descendants: Regnier, whom he -quotes abundantly, La Fontaine, of whom he is a disciple, Molière and -Pascal, who furnish the models of his chefs-d’oeuvre. More than that, he -goes back to their antique masters. The rudiments of Latin which he -learned at school serve to help him to read Lucrece, Catulle, Tibulle, -Horace, Ovid, and Seneca, and to take from them that salt of _citation_ -with which he heightens so effectively the sallies of his Gallic wit.” - -Among the manuscripts of the Comédie-Française are a number of pages -covered with Latin citations, elegantly translated, which Beaumarchais -adapted to the circumstances of his life and works, with a precision which -could not have been the result of chance. - -“This is the serious side of his education, but it was not all; the -unfolding and development of his talents must have been deeply influenced -by that society of which he was the _bout-en-train_, and where the Prince -de Conti and the Countess de Boufflers, _la divine Comtesse_, restored the -ancient traditions of epicurean esprit. What did he not owe to -conversation, often free, always piquant, of the aristocratic and -bourgeois salons, to the foyers of the theaters and cafés which he -frequented, and in which he was past-master, fencing with such skilled -champions as Chamfort, as Sophie Arnould, those little kings _de -l’esprit_! We must therefore give to these brilliant contemporaries of our -author the honor of having shaped his genius.” (M. de Loménie.) - -We have spoken already of Beaumarchais’s natural aversion to the heroic in -literature, all his instincts led him toward the new dramatic school which -was then appearing in France, and whose master was Diderot. In this school -the old heroic tragedy was replaced by a domestic tragedy in which the -ordinary events of daily life formed the theme. By the side of this, there -was to be a serious comedy, not clearly defined from the tragic element, -but which was to take the place of the “gay comedy” of the past. - -More than a century of democratic ideas has so far removed the present -generation from the ideas of the past, that it is difficult for us to -appreciate the magnitude of the innovation made by this new style of -literature when it first appeared in France. It was, however, but the -natural outgrowth of that new order of things which was year by year -becoming more pronounced, in which the bourgeoisie of France rises to a -state of self-consciousness which demands expression. The splendor of the -monarchy as upheld by Louis XIV had faded from men’s minds. The people -were beginning to realize that they themselves, with their joys and -sorrows, their loves and hates, belonged to the realm of art. - -Beaumarchais forcibly expresses the new ideas when in his essay “_Sur le -Genre Sérieux_,” he says, “If our heart enters into the interest taken in -tragic personages, it is less because they are heroes and kings than -because they are human beings and miserable. Is it the Queen of Messina -that touches me in Méropé? No, it is the mother of Égiste. Nature alone -has right over our hearts.--The true relation of the heart is, therefore, -always from man to man, and never from man to king. The brilliancy of rank -far from augmenting the interest which we feel in a tragic personage, on -the contrary destroys it. The nearer to mine the condition of him who -suffers, the more touched am I by his woes. It belongs to the essence of -the serious drama to offer a more pressing interest, a more direct -morality than that of the heroic tragedy, and there should be something -more serious than mere gay comedy.” After developing this theme for a -considerable length he terminates thus, “The morality of comedy is nil, -the reverse of what should be in the theater.” - -Beaumarchais, a few years later, yielding with his usual suppleness to the -inevitable, when he found the public refusing to be interested in his -serious mediocrities, abandoned the _genre sérieux_, which in the -beginning he so warmly defended. He did not leave it, however, without a -last thrust at his critics. - -In his preface to the “_Barbier de Seville_,” which he published eight -years later, he thus alludes to these earlier productions: “I had the -weakness, Monsieur, to present to you at different times two poor dramas, -monstrous productions as is very well known, because between tragedy and -comedy no one is any longer ignorant that nothing exists, that is a point -settled.... As for myself, I am so completely convinced of the truth of -this that if I wished again to bring on the scene, a mother in tears, a -betrayed wife, a forlorn sister, a son disinherited, in order to present -them decently to the public, I should begin by placing them in a beautiful -kingdom where they had done their best to reign, and I should situate it -near one of the archipelagoes, or in some remote corner of the world.... -The spectacle of men of medium condition, crushed and suffering, how -absurd! Ridiculous citizens and unhappy kings, there is nothing else the -theatre will permit.” - -For those of Beaumarchais’s admirers who consider the creation of _Figaro_ -as his highest title to fame, it is no matter of regret that after -imperfect success with his first drama, and almost failure with his -second, he should have made the transition to gay comedy. _Figaro_, -however, as we shall see, did not come before the public simply for its -amusement, he came as the announcement of that complete change which -already was taking place in the social institutions of modern Europe, -first breaking out in France, so that his apparition, therefore, was no -mere accident, but a momentous event. - -At the present moment in 1766, no one could be farther than Beaumarchais -from the possibility of such a creation, for although he had brought with -him from Spain the crude outline of the “_Barbier_,” he lacked as yet all -that experience which was to give political significance to the play, and -which was destined to enable him to voice for all time the right of the -individual to be heard in his own cause. In 1766 he not only imagined -himself to be, but was, one of the most loyal, one of the most respectful -subjects of the king. His life of adventure apparently was over. He asked -for nothing better than the fortune and position he had acquired already. -At heart he was above everything else domestic and was therefore warmly -attracted toward the new literary school. Loménie says, “He precipitated -himself with his ordinary fervor into the _drame domestique et bourgeois_, -which seemed to him an unknown world of which Diderot was the Christopher -Columbus, and of which he hoped to be the Vespucius.” - -In speaking of Beaumarchais’s attraction for this school Gudin says: -“Struck with the new beauties which the French stage displayed from day to -day, drawn on by his own talent he descended into the arena, to mix with -the combatants who disputed the palms of the scenic plays. - -“Never before had been seen such an assemblage of excellent actors; the -theater was not simply a place of amusement, it was a course in public -instruction; here were displayed the customs of all nations and the -principal events of history; all the interests of humanity were there -developed with that truth which convinces, and arouses thought in every -mind. - -“Diderot proposed to paint upon the scene the different duties of the -social condition, the father of the family, the magistrate, the merchant, -in order to show the virtues which each requires. It was certainly a new -point of view which he offered to the public. Beaumarchais felt his heart -deeply touched, and yielding to the impulse which he felt, he composed, -almost in spite of himself, his touching _Eugénie_. - -“This is the picture of a virtuous girl infamously seduced by a great -lord. No piece ever offered a more severe morality, or more direct -instruction to fathers of vain women, who allow themselves to be blinded -by titles and great names. It is the duty of every author to attack the -vices of his own century. This duty the Greeks first understood. But in -France a thousand voices were raised against the innovation. Beaumarchais, -whom nothing intimidated, dared in his first play to attack the vice so -common among great lords, especially under Louis XV. - -“Certainly this ought to have made him applauded by every friend of -virtue. The opposite occurred. The friends kept silence. Those who were -guilty of similar vice cried out against the play, their flatterers cried -still louder, journalists and the envious authors hissed and cried out -that it was detestable, scandalous, badly conceived and executed, immoral. -Not one applauded the energetic audacity of the author who dared to raise -his voice against the luxurious vice permitted by the monarchy and even by -the magistrates. Beaumarchais, however, had the public on his side, the -piece remained upon the stage and was constantly applauded.” - -Although the fastidious French taste, apart from all the enmity aroused by -the many-sided success of its author, found much to criticise in the -production, _Eugénie_, or _la Vertu malheureuse_, the piece retains its -place upon the repertoire of the Théâtre-Français and is still -occasionally given. - -Outside France it met with a much warmer reception. The German writer, -Bettleheim, assures us that it was at once translated into most of the -Kultur-Sprachen of Europe and was produced in the principal theatres -everywhere. In England, through the support of Garrick, then director of -the Drury Lane theater, and in Austria, through that of Sonnenfels, it met -with an astounding success. - -In Germany the translation was very soon followed by an imitation called -“_Aurelie, oder Triumph der Tugend_.” - -Of the English play Garrick writes to Beaumarchais: “_The School for -Rakes_, which is rather an imitation than a translation of your _Eugénie_, -has been written by a lady to whom I recommended your drama, which has -given me the greatest pleasure and from which I thought she could make a -play which would singularly please an English audience; I have not been -deceived, because with my help, as stated in the advertisement, which -precedes the piece, our _Eugénie_ has received the continual applause of -the most numerous audiences.” - -In Italy the success of _Eugénie_ was scarcely less pronounced. It was -first produced in Venice in 1767, and in the criticism which follows the -publication of the translation we read: “The whole city was in great -expectancy when it was known that this drama was to appear upon the scene. -The impressions made upon the hearts of the spectators corresponded with -the fame which had preceded it and instead of diminishing this constantly -continued to increase in such a manner that the whole of Italy, although -rich in her own productions, has not grown weary of praising the piece.” - -But for Beaumarchais the important thing was to win recognition from his -own country. This was no easy matter; he, however, did not despair, and -set about it with his usual tenacity of purpose, infinitude of resource -and versatility of genius. - -M. de Loménie says: “Beaumarchais worked with all his energy to prepare a -success for his play; we are indeed, far from 1784, at which time the -author of the _Mariage de Figaro_ only had to hold back the feverish -impatience of a public that awaited the performance of the piece as one of -the most extraordinary events. We are in 1767, Beaumarchais is completely -unknown as an author. He is a man of business, a man of pleasure who has -been able to push himself somewhat at court, about whom people talk very -differently, and whom men of letters are disposed to consider, as did the -courtiers, an intruder. From this arose the necessity for him to push -ahead, to arouse curiosity and to secure from all ranks supporters for -his play. This is what he does with that aptitude which distinguishes him. - -“When, for instance, it is a question of obtaining the privilege of -reading his drama before Mesdames, he poses as a courtier who has -condescended to occupy himself with literature in the interest of virtue -and good manners. He assumes a celebrity which he has not yet acquired and -on the whole seems endowed with a rare presumption; here is the letter: - - “‘Mesdames: - -“‘The comedians of the Comédie-Française are going to present in a few -days, a drama of a new kind which all Paris is awaiting with lively -impatience. The orders which I gave to the comedians in making them a -present of the work, that they should guard the secret of the name of the -author, have not been obeyed. In their unfortunate enthusiasm, they -believed that they rendered me a service in transgressing my wishes. As -this work, child of my sensibility, breathes the love of virtue, and tends -to purify our theater and make it a school of good manners, I have felt -that I owe a special homage to my illustrious protectresses. I come, -therefore, Mesdames, to beg you to listen to a reading of my play. After -that, if the public at the representation carries me to the skies, the -most beautiful success of my drama will be to have been honored by your -tears, as the author has always been by your benefits.’ - -“With the duke of Noailles, to whom he had read the piece, and who had -shown an interest, Beaumarchais poses as a statesman who has missed his -calling. The letter to the Duke of Noailles is as follows: - -“‘It is only in odd moments, Monsieur le duc, that I dare give way to my -taste for literature. When I cease for one moment to turn the earth and -cultivate the garden of my advancement, instantly what I have cleared is -covered with brambles so that I must recommence unceasingly. Another of -the follies from which I have been forced to tear myself is the study of -politics, a subject thorny and repulsive for most men, but quite as -attractive as useless for me. I loved it to madness, and I have done -everything to develop it, the rights of respective powers, the pretentions -of princes, by which the mass of mankind always is kept in commotion, the -action and reaction of governments, all these are interests made for my -soul. Perhaps there is no one who has felt so much the disadvantage of -being able to see things _en grand_, being at the same time the smallest -of men. Sometimes I have gone so far as to murmur in my unjust humor that -fate did not place me more advantageously in regard to those things for -which I believed myself suited, especially when I consider that the -missions which kings and ministers give to their agents, have the power to -confer the grace of the ancient apostleship, which instantly made sublime -and intelligent men of the most insignificant brains.’” - -To the duke of Nivernais, Beaumarchais was indebted for a useful criticism -of the weak side of his play. It probably may be due to that nobleman’s -observations that he made the important change of transporting the scene -to England, and giving the characters English names. As the play now -stands, after decided modifications made immediately following the first -representations, the story is this: - -[Illustration: _Eugénie_] - -Eugénie, the daughter of a Welsh gentleman, supposes herself the wife of -Lord Clarendon, nephew of the Minister of War. Clarendon, however, basely -has deceived her by a false marriage in which his steward plays the rôle -of chaplain, and he prepares to marry a wealthy heiress the very day that -his victim arrives in London. - -The weakness of the play consists in this, that while the character of -Eugénie in its delicate, sweet womanliness, enlists our entire sympathy -and admiration, we are not sufficiently prepared at the end of the fifth -act to see the man who has so deceived her, pardoned and re-accepted on -his giving up his intended marriage along with the ambitious schemes of -his powerful uncle, even though the old baron utters the sublime truth -that “he who has sincerely repented is farther from evil than he who has -never known it.” - -In the words of the Duke of Nivernais, “In the first act Clarendon is a -scoundrel who has deceived a young girl of good family by a false -marriage, he prepares to wed another, and this is the man, who in the end -finds grace in the eyes of Eugénie, a being who interests us. It requires -a great deal of preparation to arrive at this conclusion.” This was the -whole difficulty, and though Beaumarchais retouched as best he could the -character of Clarendon, making as much as possible of the extenuating -circumstances, and emphasizing his hesitation and remorse, the play -remains weak in this respect. - -The English imitation before spoken of, rectifies this difficulty by -altering the rôle of Clarendon. In the advertisement, the author says, -however, “I have not dared to deviate from the gentle, interesting Eugénie -of Beaumarchais.” - -The play finally was given for the first time, January 29th, 1767. In the -“_Année Littéraire_” of that year this passage occurs: “_Eugénie_, played -for the first time January the 29th of this year, was badly received by -the public and its reception had all the appearance of a failure; it has -raised itself since with brilliancy, through omissions and corrections; it -occupied the public for a long time and this success greatly honors the -comedians.” - -“The changes made by Beaumarchais between the first and second -representations were sufficient,” says Loménie, “to bring into relief the -first three acts, which contain many beautiful parts, and which announced -already a rare talent of _mise en scène_ and of dialogue. The refined, -distinguished acting of an amiable young actress, Mlle. Doligny, who -represented Eugénie, contributed not a little to save the drama and make -it triumph brilliantly over the danger that threatened its first -representation.” - -Beaumarchais had gained the public ear, but not the critics. As Lintilhac -says: “The enterprise did not proceed without scandal, for at the second -representation instead of hissing, the public weeps. The critic enraged at -the success of the piece cried, ‘It is all the fault of the women--talk to -them of _Eugénie_; it is they who have perverted the taste of our dear -young people.’ Nevertheless the piece endures in the face of censures and -cabals.--He managed his dramatic affairs quite as cleverly as the others. -Abuse goes along with success, _tant mieux!_ So much the better, it gives -him the opportunity of lashing criticism with witty replies, which he -prints with his play in a long preface of justification.” - -“Into what a wasps’ nest you have put your head,” said Diderot to him. - -Gudin observes, “He was not one to be frightened at their buzzing, or to -stop on his way to kill flies. He was busying himself with a new drama.” - -That this first production, “This child of my sensibility,” as he called -it, was always dear to his heart is proved by the fact that years -afterwards Beaumarchais gave the name of Eugénie to his only daughter, of -whom we shall have much to say later on. - -But in the meantime, an event occurred which for a period of two years had -an important bearing on his life. To quote Gudin: “It was about this time -that Madam B., celebrated for her beauty, came one day to find the sister -of Beaumarchais and asked her what her brother was doing as she had not -seen him for a long time. - -“‘I do not know if he is at home, but I believe he is working on his -drama.’ - -“‘I have something to say to him.’ - -“He was called. He appeared looking like a hermit, his hair in disorder, -his beard long, his face illumined by meditation. - -“‘Well, my friend, what are you busying yourself with when an amiable -woman, recently a widow, sought already by several pretendants, might -prefer you? I am to ride with her to-morrow in that secluded avenue of the -Champs Élysées, which is called _l’allée des Veuves_; mount on horseback, -we will meet you there as if by chance; you will speak to me, and then you -shall both see whether or not you are suited to one another.’ - -“The next day Beaumarchais, followed by a domestic, appeared mounted on a -superb horse which he managed with grace. He was seen from the coach in -which the ladies were riding long before he joined them. The beauty of the -steed, the bearing of the cavalier worked in his favor; when he came near, -Madam B. said she knew the horseman. Beaumarchais came up and was -presented to the lady. - -“This meeting produced a very vivid impression; the veil, the crèpe, the -mourning costume served to bring into relief the fairness of the -complexion and the beauty of the young widow. Beaumarchais soon left his -horse for the carriage, and as no author dialogued better for the stage so -no man ever brought more art into his conversation. If at first it was -simply sallies of wit, it became by degrees more interesting and finished -by being attractive. Beaumarchais finally proposed that the ladies should -come and dine at his home. Madam B. persuaded the young woman to consent, -although she refused several times. He sent back his horse by his domestic -which was the signal arranged with his sister in order that she might -prepare to receive the ladies, one of whom was an entire stranger. - -“It is very different seeing a man out riding and seeing him in his own -home. It is there that one must follow him in order to judge him rightly -and so it was on entering that unpretentious, though elegant and -convenient home, seeing Beaumarchais surrounded by his old domestics, -seated between his father and sister, the latter a young woman of much -intelligence and proud of such a brother, the young woman could not but -realize that it would be an honor to have him for her husband. The table -disposes to confidence, the heart opens and discloses itself; they had not -left it before each was sure of the other and they had but one desire, -never to separate. They were married in April, 1768. His fortune was -increased by that of his wife, and his happiness by the possession of a -woman who loved him passionately.” - -His wife’s name was Madame Lévêque, _née_ Geneviève Madeleine Watebled. -She was possessed of an ample fortune which added to that of Beaumarchais -made their position in every way desirable. The world at last seemed ready -to smile upon him and he quite content to settle down to peaceful -enjoyment of all the blessings with which his life was now crowned. - -Gudin says, “Happy in love and in his friends, he amused himself in -painting the effects of these passions in a drama, ‘_Les Deux Amis_.’” The -following year a son was born to him, the happiness of being a father was -the only happiness which had hitherto been denied him. - -The new drama, “_Les Deux Amis_,” although he himself says of it, “It is -the most powerfully composed of all my works,” was not a success before -the Parisian public. In the provinces and in the most of Europe it met -with a very different reception, long retaining its favor with the public -there. - -It is the story of two friends who live in the same house, Malac _père_, -collector of rents for a Parisian company, and Aurelly, merchant of Lyons, -where the scene is laid. Aurelly is expecting from Paris certain sums to -enable him to meet a payment which must be made in a few days. Malac -_père_ learns that the money from Paris will not arrive and to save his -friend turns into the latter’s case all which he has in his possession as -collector of rents, allowing his friend to think that the money from Paris -has arrived. At this moment the agent-general of the Paris company appears -demanding the rents. During two acts Malac _père_ allows himself to be -suspected of having appropriated the money, meekly accepting the disdain -of the friend whose credit he has saved. - -The real situation discloses itself at last and through the heroism of -Pauline, the niece of Aurelly, and the curiosity of the agent-general, St. -Alban, the threatened ruin is averted. - -In connection with the main action, Beaumarchais has joined a charming -episode of the loves of Pauline and Malac _fils_. The play opens with a -pleasing scene, where the young girl is seated at the piano playing a -sonata while the young man accompanies her with the violin; the scene and -the conversation which follows are a touching souvenir of the early days -of Beaumarchais’s attachment for the beautiful creole, Pauline. - -The piece was produced January 13, 1770, and was given ten times. Loménie -says, in explaining the reason for the short duration of the play: “Each -one of us suffers, loves and hates in virtue of an impulse of the heart, -but very few have a clear idea of what is felt by one exposed to -bankruptcy or supposed guilty of misappropriating money. These situations -are too exceptional to work upon the soul, too vulgar to excite the -imagination, they may well concur in forming the interest of a drama, but -only on condition that they figure as accessories. Vainly did Beaumarchais -blend the loves of Pauline and Malac _fils_, trying to sweeten the aridity -of the subject. Several spiritual or pathetic scenes could not save the -too commercial drama of ‘_Les Deux Amis_.’” - -The author having, as he said, the advantage over his sad brothers of the -pen in that he could go to the theater in his own _carosse_, and making -perhaps a little too much of this advantage, the effect of the failure of -his drama was to call out many witticisms. It is said that at the end of -the first representation a wag of the parterre cried out, “It is question -here of bankruptcy; I am in it for twenty sous.” - -Several days afterward Beaumarchais remarked to Sophie Arnould, apropos of -an opera _Zoroaster_ which did not succeed, “In a week’s time you will not -have a person, or at least very few.” - -The witty actress replied, “_Vos Amis_ will send them to us.” - -Finally the capital fault of the play is very well drawn up in the -quatrain of the time, - - _“I have seen Beaumarchais’s ridiculous drama, - And in a single word I will say what it is; - It is an exchange where money circulates, - Without producing any interest.”_ - -Lintilhac remarks, “He gave in this crisis a double proof of his genius; -in the first place, he allowed his piece to fall without comment, and in -the second he did not despair of his dramatic vocation.” - -Already Beaumarchais was meditating his _Barbier de Séville_ but in the -meantime he was seriously occupied with a new and extensive business -transaction. The fortune of his wife had enabled him to enter into a -partnership with old Du Verney in the acquisition of the vast forest of -Chinon, which they bought from the government. A letter to his wife, dated -July 15, 1769, shows him at his work. - - “De Rivarennes. - -“You invite me to write, my good friend, and I wish to with all my heart, -it is an agreeable relaxation from the fatigues of my stay in this -village. Misunderstandings among the heads of departments to be -reconciled, complaints, and demands of clerks to be listened to, an -account of more than 100,000 _écus_, in sums of from 20 to 30 _sous_ to -regulate, and of which it was necessary to discharge the regular cashier, -the different posts to be visited, two hundred workmen of the forest whose -work must be examined, two hundred and eighty acres of wood cut down whose -preparation and transportation must be looked after, new roads to be -constructed into the forest and to the river, the old roads to be mended, -three or four hundred tons of hay to be stacked, provisions of oats for -thirty dray horses to be arranged for, thirty other horses to be brought -for the transport of all the wood for the navy before winter, gates and -sluices to be constructed in the river Indre in order to give us water all -the year at the place where the wood is discharged, fifty vessels which -wait to be loaded for Tours, Saumur, Angers and Nantes, the leases of -seven or eight farms to sign, beside the provision for housing thirty -persons; the general inventory of our receipts and expenses for the last -two years to regulate, _voilà_, my dear wife, briefly the sum of my -occupations of which part is terminated and the rest _en bon train_.” - -After two more pages of details Beaumarchais terminates his letter thus: -“You see, my dear friend, that one sleeps less here than at Pantin, but -the forced activity of this work does not displease me, since I have -arrived in this retreat inaccessible to vanity, I have seen only simple -people with unpretentious manners, such as I often desire myself to be. I -lodge in my office which is a good peasant farm, between barnyard and -kitchen garden, surrounded with a green hedge. My room with its four -white-washed walls has for furniture an uncomfortable bed where I sleep -like a top, four rush-bottomed chairs, an oaken table and a great -fireplace without ornament or shelf; but I see from my window on writing -you, the whole of the Varennes or prairies of the valley which I inhabit, -full of robust, sunburned men who cut and cart hay with yokes of oxen, a -multitude of women and girls each with a rake on the shoulder or in the -hand, all singing songs whose shrill notes reach me as I write. Across the -trees in the distance I see the tortuous course of the Indre and an -ancient castle flanked by towers which belongs to my neighbor Madame de -Roncée. The whole is crowned with wooded summits which multiply as far as -the eye can see, the highest crests of which surround us on all sides in -such a manner that they form a great spherical frame to the horizon, which -they bound on every side. This picture is not without charm. Good coarse -bread, the most modest nourishment with execrable wine composes my -repasts. In truth, if I dared wish you the evil of lacking everything in a -desolate country I should deeply regret not having you by my side. Adieu, -my friend. If you think that these details might interest our relatives -and friends you are free to read my letters to them. Embrace them all for -me and good night--it seems hard to me sometimes not to have you near--and -my son, my son! how is he? I laugh when I think that it is for him that I -work.” - -In January, 1770, Beaumarchais could easily afford the ill success of his -drama, for he was one of the best placed men in France. As we see him at -this moment nothing seems lacking to complete his happiness. All his -ambitions either are satisfied, or submerged. Of fierce trials, -overwhelming calamities, of revolutions, and ignominy worse than death, he -had as yet no idea. In 1767, he had written in his preface to his -_Eugénie_, “What does it matter to me, peaceful subject of a monarchial -state of the eighteenth century, the revolution of Athens and Rome? Why -does the story of the earthquake which has engulfed the city of Lima with -all its inhabitants, three thousand miles away, fill me with sorrow, while -the judicial murder of Charles committed at the Tower only makes me -indignant? It is because the volcano opened in Peru might explode in Paris -and bury me in its ruins, while on the other hand I can never apprehend -anything in the least similar to the unheard of misfortune which befell -the king of England.” This from the pen of Beaumarchais! Beaumarchais, who -in 1784 was to produce his famous _Mariage de Figaro_, of which Napoleon -said it was, “The Revolution in action.” Yes the Revolution, but not at -all like the Revolution in England whose results were only political, but -one which went down to the very foundation of the human soul changing the -psychology of every individual man, woman and child in the fair land of -France and from thence spreading its influence over the entire civilized -world! Here again we have a startling proof of what already has been -advanced, namely that the great actions in the life of Beaumarchais do not -come from his own willing or contriving. In the sublime naïveté of his -genius he became the instrument of those mysterious forces, so gigantic, -which first manifested themselves in France, and whose revolutionary power -continues to be felt over the whole world to-day. For the moment, however, -his thoughts and interests were all for the restricted circle of his -family and friends. He laughed when he thought of the son for whom he was -working. But alas, as no happiness had been denied, so no human calamity -was to escape him, he must drink his cup of grief and abasement to the -dregs. - -Already the wife whom he cherished was attacked by a fatal malady which -only could end in the grave, the son for whom he worked so gaily was soon -to follow her; his property was to be seized, his aged father and dearly -loved sister were to be turned adrift. Deprived of his liberty, entangled -in the meshes of a criminal lawsuit and under circumstances so desperate -that no lawyer could be found bold enough to plead his cause, it was then -that the true force and grandeur of his soul were to be made manifest; it -was then that he found himself caught on the crest of that giant wave of -public opinion now forming itself in France, his petty personal affair was -to become the affair of the nation. It was not to be himself as a private -individual who opposed his wrongs against despotic power, but the people -of France found through him a voice crying aloud for vengeance. - -But the time was not yet ripe. Beaumarchais, happy in the bosom of his -family, thought only of sweetening the remainder of that life which was -perishing in his arms. - -[Illustration: Le Jardin du Petit-Trianon] - -“Before his second marriage, Madam Beaumarchais realizing to the full how -difficult it was to see him without loving him,” says Gudin, “and knowing -how much he cherished women in general, said to him, ‘You are a man of -honor, promise me that you will never give me cause for jealousy and I -will believe you.’ He promised her and kept his word.” Gudin further says, -“When she was stricken with a fatal and contagious disease, he was even -more assiduous than before in his devotion. Reading in her eyes the fears -that devoured her, he sought to dissipate them by his care and that host -of little attentions which have so great a price for the hearts which -understand each other. She received them with all the more gratitude in -that she could not fail to realize that she had lost those charms which -had made her attractive, leaving only the memory of what she had been, -joined to the sentiments of a pure soul already on the point of escaping -from a frail body. - -“Father, sisters, all the relatives of Beaumarchais, alarmed at his -attachment, trembled lest he too should contract the malady and follow her -to the tomb. She died on the 21st of November, 1770, leaving him the one -son before mentioned. Her fortune, which had consisted almost entirely of -a life income, was cut off with her death.” - -Paris du Verney had died the same year. The moment had arrived when the -storm so long gathering was about to break. The first part of the career -of Beaumarchais was over, the dream of a quiet, peaceful life vanished -forever, while stern and unending conflict entered to take its place. - - - - - CHAPTER VII - -“_La calomnie, Monsieur! vous ne savez guère ce que vous dédaignez; j’ai -vu des plus honnêtes gens prêts d’en être accablés. Croyez qu’il n’y a pas -de plâte méchanceté, pas d’horreurs, pas de conte absurde, qu’on ne fasse -adopter aux oisifs d’une grande ville en s’y prenant bien.... D’abord un -bruit léger rasant le sol comme hirondelle avant l’orage, +pianissimo+ -murmure et file, et sème en courant le trait empoisonné. Telle bouche le -recueille, et +piano+, +piano+, vous le glisse en l’oreille adroitement. -Le mal est fait; il germe, il rampe, il chemine et +rinforzando+ de bouche -en bouche il va le diable; puis tout à coup on ne sait comment, vous voyez -la calomnie se dresser, siffler, s’enfler, grandir à vue d’oeil. Elle -s’élance, étend son vol, tourbillonne, enveloppe, arrache, entraine, -éclate et tonne, et devient, grace au ciel, un cri général, un +crescendo+ -public, un +chorus+ universel de haine et de proscription. Qui diable y -résisterait?”_ - - _“Le Barbier de Séville,” Act II, Scene VII._ - - The Death of Paris Du Verney--The Lawsuit La Blache--Judgment - Rendered in Favor of Beaumarchais--The Comte de La Blache-- - Appeals to the New Parliament--Private Life of Beaumarchais - at This Period. - - -As will be remembered, it was in 1760 that Beaumarchais entered into -relationship with Paris du Verney. During the ten years which followed -there had been considerable movement of capital between the two, very many -business transactions more or less sustained by the old financier, -numerous loans of money, and finally the partnership in the forest of -Chinon, without their ever having arrived at a definite settlement. - -Beaumarchais, always minutely careful in matters where money was -concerned, realizing the advanced age of du Verney often had urged upon -his friend the necessity of such a settlement. Finally in April, 1770, -after several years of correspondence, an act was drawn up in duplicate by -Beaumarchais, dated, signed, and sealed by du Verney. - -By this act, after a long and detailed enumeration of the rights on both -sides, Beaumarchais gave back to his old friend 160,000 francs of the -latter’s notes and consented to the dissolution of the partnership in the -Forest of Chinon. - -Du Verney, on his side, declared Beaumarchais absolved from all debts -against him, recognized that he owed the latter 15,000 francs and obliged -himself to loan 75,000 francs without interest, for eight years. - -Du Verney died before the last two clauses had been executed, so that it -was to his heir, the Comte de la Blache, that Beaumarchais presented the -act demanding its execution. - -This was the moment for which the count had been so long waiting. Already -for years he had been saying of Beaumarchais, “I hate that man as a lover -loves his mistress.” - -M. de Loménie, after giving reasons natural enough for the hatred of an -heir presumptive for a person constantly receiving benefits from an old -man whose fortune he was to inherit, has said, “The Comte de la Blache had -very particular motives for hating Beaumarchais. This latter was closely -united with another nephew of du Verney’s, M. Paris de Meyzieu, a man -distinguished in every way, who had powerfully aided his uncle in the -founding of the École Militaire, but being very much less skillful in the -difficult and painful matter for a man of heart, to secure to himself a -succession to the property--had withdrawn from the contest allowing -himself to be sacrificed to a more distant relative.” - -Beaumarchais, finding this sacrifice unjust, had not ceased to combat the -weakness of his old friend du Verney, and to plead for M. de Meyzieu with -a frankness and a vivacity proved by his letters, of which I will only -cite a fragment, but which has relation precisely to the settlement in -question. - -“I cannot endure,” he wrote to du Verney on the date of March 9, 1770, -“that in case of death you place me vis-à-vis with M. le Comte de la -Blache, whom I honor with all my heart but who, since I have seen him -familiarly at the house of Madame d’Hauteville, never has given me the -honor of a salutation. You make him your heir, I have nothing to say to -that, but if I must, in case of the greatest misfortune which I could -imagine, be his debtor, I am your servant for the arrangement. I will not -dissolve our partnership. But place me vis-à-vis with my friend Meyzieu, -who is a gallant man, and to whom you owe, my good friend, reparation for -debts of long standing. It is not apologies which an uncle owes to a -nephew, but kindness and above all some benevolent act, when he knows that -he has done him wrong. I never have hidden my opinion in this matter from -you. Put me vis-à-vis with him. This is my last word; you, or in your -absence Meyzieu, or else no dissolution. I have other motives in relation -to this last point, which I will reserve till the time when I can give -them by word of mouth. When do you wish to see me? Because I notify you -that from now until then, things shall remain as they are.” - -It is evident from this and similar letters that Beaumarchais had no -illusions as to the difficulties of his situation. With the increasing -failure of the old man’s faculties, his cunning nephew so exercised his -ascendency that it was with the greatest difficulty that Beaumarchais -could obtain an interview with his old friend. Du Verney, it would seem, -hid, so far as possible, all connection which he had with his nephew. This -state of affairs, M. de Loménie assures us, accounted for the absence of -the duplicate acts and all letters in relation to the matter, which alone -could make a lawsuit possible. - -When after du Verney’s death, Beaumarchais presented the act, demanding -its execution, the Comte de la Blache coolly replied that he did not -recognize his uncle’s signature and that he believed it false. - -The matter was taken to law. Not daring, however, directly to accuse -Beaumarchais of forgery, he demanded that the act be annulled, declaring -that it contained in itself proofs of fraud. Again to quote Loménie, “Thus -Beaumarchais found himself caught in the meshes of an odious snare, -because while not daring to attack him openly for forgery, the Comte de la -Blache did not cease to plead indirectly this possibility and after an -infamous discussion he had the audacity to take advantage of this very act -which he declared false and turned it against his adversary. - -“Thus refusing to pay the 15,000 francs recognized by the act signed by du -Verney, he demanded of Beaumarchais payment of 139,000 francs from which -the act discharged him.” - -“In this way,” said Master Caillard, a very ingenious lawyer chosen by the -Comte de la Blache, “justice will be avenged, and honest citizens will see -with satisfaction a similar adversary taken in the snares which he has -himself set.” - -Not to enter too deeply into the tedious details of this suit, we will -content ourselves with a few pages taken from the account of M. de Loménie -as giving a sufficiently clear idea of its nature as a whole. - -He says, “Let us suppose that Beaumarchais had wished to fabricate a false -act, would he have given it the form of this one? It is a great sheet of -double paper, very complicated details of the settlement written by the -hand of Beaumarchais fill the first two pages, at the end of the second -page it is signed on the right by Beaumarchais, and on the left dated and -signed by the hand of du Verney, the third page contains a résumé of the -same settlement. What did the lawyer of the Comte de la Blache say of -this? He discussed it with the facility of a lawyer. At times he -insinuated that the signature of du Verney was false, then when summoned -to plead the falsity of the act he declared that if it was true, that it -belonged to a date earlier than 1770, ‘at which time,’ he said, ‘the old -du Verney had a trembling hand, while the one at the foot of the act is a -bold writing from a hand firm and light.’ - -“Here the lawyer pretended not to see that just above the signature was -written in the same hand these words, ‘At Paris, the 1st of April, 1770,’ -that is to say that du Verney had not only signed, but dated the act in -question, which obliged one to suppose that the old financier had amused -himself in his youth or in mature years in signing and dating in advance, -blank signatures for the period of his old age. Repelled on this side the -lawyer insinuates that the paper must be a blank signature signed and -dated by du Verney in 1770, secured and filled by Beaumarchais.” - -Feeling the weakness of his arguments, the lawyer came back to the clauses -which were complicated, diffuse, and mixed with observations foreign to -the settlement in question; this was true, but in favor of Beaumarchais, -because had he been fabricating an act, it would have been brief, -methodical, and clear, while in regulating a long account with an old man -of eighty-seven this act must necessarily correspond to the prolixity, or -the fantasies of, this advanced age. - -But one will say, why, when he had only to contend against such feeble -arguments, was it possible for Beaumarchais, after gaining his suit in the -first instance to lose it in the second, as we shall presently see him do? - -The story is long and involved, and many pictures are needed to convey the -scene in all its intensity and intricacy. - -A sentence dated February 22, 1772, rejects the demand of the Comte de la -Blache, and a second dated March 4th, 1772, orders the execution of the -act. Upon this the adversary appeals to the grand chamber of Parliament. - -Although victorious in his struggle, Beaumarchais was vilified by the -crafty Caillard to the extent of the latter’s power. The credit and -influence of the Comte de la Blache excited against him a swarm of -writers, and the gazettes, especially the foreign periodicals, made the -most of all the atrocious calumnies which had been set going regarding his -character. The sudden death of his two wives served as a pretext for the -most infamous accusations. All the confusing details of this disastrous -lawsuit have been fully investigated and the whole matter clearly exposed -by M. de Loménie and we know that the final decision rendered at Aix in -1778 exonerated Beaumarchais from every semblance of fault or dishonorable -action. That which concerns us at this time is to learn what effect all -these infamous machinations had upon a character which we have recognized -already as strong, elevated, and free. - -From the bitterness of the attacks of his enemies, let us turn to the -refreshing and faithful picture which his devoted friend Gudin makes of -him at this time. - -He writes: “It was in the winter of 1771 that I met Madame de Miron, -sister of Beaumarchais, at the home of a woman of my acquaintance. She had -been invited to a reading of one of my poems. In the beginning she showed -no interest, but as I read, her face became animated and at the end she -was as prodigal of her praise, as at first she had been indifferent. She -spoke to me of her brother. She found me without prejudice for his dramas, -but naturally biased in regard to his character of which I had heard much -adverse criticism. - -“Satisfied with my discourse, she resolved to conquer me for her brother -and accordingly invited me to dine with her at a time when the abbé -Délille was to read some verses still unknown to the public. - -“Given to study and retirement, rather reserved in my friendships, and not -desiring to make new ones, I refused at first; she urged my acceptance -with so much grace, however, that I could not persist in my refusal. - -“I went to her home, I found the abbé, I applauded his verses as all Paris -has since done, but I did not see the brother of the mistress of the -house.... - -“At last one evening, while I was visiting Madame de Miron, he came in. -She presented him to me and begged me to recite some verses of the poem -which had made her wish to interest me in him. - -“He showed the same indifference as his sister had done at the beginning, -but glowed with even finer interest as I proceeded. He wished to take me -at once to sup with him with Madame le Comtesse de Mir.... I refused -absolutely, and did not yield to any of his solicitations although they -were very ardent. I did not wish that my first step should give him the -idea of a frivolous man who could be disposed of lightly. - -“The next morning he called on me and brought me an invitation from Madame -le Comtesse de Mir ... and in the evening he came for me. Two days later -he invited me to his house, presented me to his father, to the one sister -who lived with him, and whom I had never met. - -“I saw him as simple in his domestic circle as he was brilliant in a -salon. I was very soon certain that he was a good son, good brother, good -master, and good father because he had still a little son, a young child -whose infantile words were often repeated to us, which charmed me all the -more because it betrayed his paternal tenderness and showed how much more -powerful were his sentiments than his _esprit_. - -“We soon learned to esteem each other from a similar foundation of severe -principles, hidden in his case under an exterior of lightness and gaiety, -by a vivid and constant love of the good, the beautiful, the honest, by an -equal disdain for prejudice, and for all opinions ill-founded. - -“We became intimate friends through the similarities and differences of -our characters, and the congeniality of our interests. - -“The taste for letters, for the theatre, for the arts, the same indulgence -for the weaknesses of the human heart, strengthened our union. We passed -many evenings together, now in the midst of a great number, now in more -restricted circles. Poetry, music, new scientific discoveries, all were -subjects of our discourse. I heard him blend witticisms, graceful stories, -the best pleasantries, all the charm of an _esprit_ free, abundant, and -varied with the effusions of a sensible, active, generous heart. - -“He never criticised any work, on the contrary he always brought out -beauties which others had not noticed, extolled talent, repelled scandal; -he defended all those whose merit he heard depreciated, and never -listened to slander. ‘I am,’ he used to say, ‘an advocate of the absent.’ - -“I noticed that he never spoke evil of his enemies, even of those whom he -knew to be the most intent on ruining him. One day when I had learned some -most injurious details in regard to the conduct of the man who had brought -suit against him, I expressed my astonishment that I had not learned these -facts from him, but rather from a relative of the man himself. - -“‘Eh, my friend,’ he replied, ‘should I lose the time which I pass with -you in recalling the things which would only afflict your spirit and mine. -I try to forget the folly of those about me, and to think only of what is -good and useful; we have so many things to say to each other, that such -topics should never find a place in our conversation.’ - -“And in fact there scarcely passed a day when we did not express our pity -for the sterility of spirit and the dryness of heart of the many people -who have nothing to say unless they talk scandal. - -“Beaumarchais was at this time secretary to the king, lieutenant-general -of the preserves of the king and enjoyed an income of from 15 to 20 -thousand francs a year. He thought of nothing but to make use of his own -talents, to cultivate his friends, music, and the theater. I see by a -letter to the Duchess de ---- that he was already forming a project for -enlarging the range of the drama, so as to give to the French scene more -variety and interest. These objects alone occupied him when I made his -acquaintance. - -“The suit in which he was engaged in the first place, gave him no -disquietude, he believed that he could not lose it, but this suit was to -be the stumbling block which was to destroy his happiness, to tear from -him the possibility of disposing of himself according to his own will, or -to live as his taste dictated. - -“It precipitated him into a succession of events which never permitted him -for a moment to enter into the tranquil career which he had proposed for -himself. His life so fitted for pleasure and the beaux-arts became a -combat which never ceased. It is thus that events often dispose of men in -spite of themselves. - -“During the delay accorded by law and which circumstances required, -Beaumarchais composed a comic opera, which he ornamented with couplets to -the Spanish and Italian airs which he had brought back with him from -Madrid. He read the piece to the Comedians of the so-called _Italiens_, -who were in possession of the right to play this kind of production. That -evening, supping with Mademoiselle M----, _femme d’esprit_, whom we shall -see later, in an assembly of several men of rank, Beaumarchais told us -that his piece had been refused by the theater of Souz. - -“We congratulated him, we knew his piece, we assured him the comedians of -the Théâtre-Français would be more sensible, that he would only lose the -couplets, and that the _Barbier de Séville_ would have more success at the -theater of Molière than at the Harlequin. - -“Marmontel and Sedaine, who were of the company, knowing very well all of -the _Comédiens des Italiens_, revealed to us the secret of the disgrace of -the _Barbier_. They told us that the principal actor, before showing -himself on the stage, had figured, razor in hand in the shops of the -wig-makers, and now he did not wish to produce anything which would recall -his origin. We laughed, we moralized and it was decided that Beaumarchais -should carry his work to the Théâtre-Français.” - -It is this many-sided, this complex character of Beaumarchais which makes -him so difficult to understand. Immersed in financial difficulties which -would have overwhelmed an ordinary man, we find him composing an immortal -dramatic production. Still deeper plunged in distresses, and caught in a -net of harassing circumstances almost unbelievable, we find him attacking -single-handed one of the greatest wrongs of the nation and pulling himself -out of a quicksand to be borne in triumph on the shoulders of the people -of France. - -In 1772, two years before the time of the lawsuit brought by the Comte de -la Blache against Beaumarchais, by an arbitrary act of the Chancellor -Maupeou under the sanction of the old king Louis XV, the ancient -parliaments of the realm had been dissolved and in their place a new one -had been set up, called the Parliament Maupeou. From the beginning it met -with very bitter opposition. To quote Loménie, “The nation had bowed -itself under the glorious scepter of Louis XIV, but that scepter fallen -into the hands of Louis XV no longer inspired respect. The spirit of -resistance to arbitrary power was general. In the absence of every other -guarantee, the parliaments presented themselves as the one barrier which -could be opposed to the caprices of a disorderly power, and whatever were -the particular vices of those bodies, judicial and political, every time -that they resisted the royal will they had with them the sympathy of the -public. - -“Supported by this, the parliaments saw themselves growing stronger day by -day. Closely united the one to the other, they declared themselves ‘the -members of a single and individual body, inherent in the monarchy, an -organ of the nation, essential depository of its liberty, of its interests -and of its rights.’ - -“Every one of their combats with royalty terminated by a victory, until at -last a man issuing from their ranks, an audacious and obstinate character, -undertook to command or crush them. This man was the Chancellor Maupeou. - -“Sustained by Madame du Barry, who dominated the King, the Chancellor -issued the edict of December 7th, 1770, which changed the entire -organization of the parliaments. The one of Paris protested and repelled -the edict. The Chancellor instead of following the ordinary methods -dissolved this parliament, confiscated the charges of the magistrates, -exiled them and installed a new parliament composed for the most part of -members of the Grand Council. The eleven Parliaments of the provinces -addressed the most vehement remonstrances; the one in Normandy went so far -as to send a decree, declaring the new magistrates intruders, perjurers, -traitors, and all the acts null that emanated from that bastard tribunal. -All the princes of the blood except one refused to recognize the judges -installed by Maupeou; thirteen peers adhered to the protestation. The -_cour des aides_ protested equally by the eloquent voice of Malesherbes. -The Chancellor resisted the storm, he prevented the dissenting princes -from being admitted to court; he broke the _cour des aides_, dissolved in -turn all the parliaments of the provinces and replaced them in the midst -of an unheard of fermentation. ‘It is not a man,’ wrote Madame du Deffand, -‘it is a devil; everything here is in a disorder of which it is impossible -to predict the end; it is chaos, it is the end of the world.’ - -“To dissolve these ancient and formidable bodies whose existence seemed -inseparable from the monarchy and whose suppression delivered France to -the régime of Turkey or Russia, was truly a very hazardous enterprise. - -“The chancellor took care to sweeten and color the act by blending some -very important reforms, long desired by the people. Thus the mass of the -people little understanding the gravity of the plan of Maupeou showed -themselves indifferent, but the enlightened classes of society refused to -purchase a few needed reforms at the price of an ignominious servitude and -sided unitedly with the destroyed parliaments. - -“Very soon followed a deluge of sarcastic pamphlets against the king, -against his mistress, against the chancellor, and the new parliament. This -last, hastily formed of heterogeneous elements, into which several men but -lightly esteemed had been introduced, had not in the beginning found -either lawyers, attorneys, or litigants who wished to appear before it. -Nevertheless, Maupeou counting upon the _mobilité française_, opposed -perseverance to the clamor, and at the end of a year most of the lawyers -were tired of keeping silence; under the influence of the celebrated -Gerbier and that of the same Caillard whom we have seen so violent against -Beaumarchais, they had taken up their functions. - -“The dissenting princes demanded to be taken back into favor, the -dispossessed magistrates of the dissolved parliaments consented to the -liquidation of the charges against them, the pamphlets diminished, and -things came back to their ordinary course. Maupeou held himself assured of -triumph and vaunted that he had saved the crown from the registrar. - -“But he had deceived himself. When any large part of a nation, honest and -intelligent, feels itself wounded in its dignity, though the wound may -close in appearance, it does not heal; that which was in the beginning a -flame became a smouldering fire, which hidden under the ashes of an -apparent non-resistance was in reality but waiting an opportunity to break -forth into a devouring element. - -“It was reserved for Beaumarchais to fan this into a flame with a suit for -fifteen louis, and to destroy both Maupeou and his parliament.” - -[Illustration: Madame du Barry] - -It was then to this parliament and Maupeou that the Comte de la Blache -made his appeal. The institution was the more to his liking, since at its -head presided a certain counsellor by the name of Goëzman who seemed -especially made for his purpose. - -We shall have much to say of this same Goëzman in a succeeding chapter -when it comes to the question of the famous lawsuit concerning the fifteen -louis. At this time, however, Beaumarchais’s case was very strong and none -of his friends seriously supposed that the count would be able to turn the -suit against him. - -It was at this crisis that a circumstance, one of the most bizarre of all -the strange happenings in the life of Beaumarchais, suddenly placed him at -the mercy of his bitterest enemy. - -For a minutely detailed account of this incident we have Beaumarchais’s -own account as rendered to the lieutenant of police after the matter had -been taken up by the authorities. While Gudin on his side, who, as we -shall see, had his own part to play in this singular drama, gives a no -less circumstantial account of the whole proceeding. - -When in 1855, M. de Loménie published his important work, the incident -about to be related was wholly unknown to the public although as he tells -us, “The author of the _Barbier de Séville_ had collected with care all -the documents relating to this strange affair. Upon the back of the bundle -of papers was written with his own hand, ‘Material for the memoirs of my -life.’” - -As M. de Sartine, at that time lieutenant-general of police, later became -a warm friend of Beaumarchais, the latter was able to obtain all the -letters deposited by each one of the actors of this tragi-comique scene. - -We can do no better than follow the account of M. de Loménie with -occasional touches from Gudin. - - - - - CHAPTER VIII - -_La Jeunesse--“Y-a-t-il de la justice?”_ - -_Bartholo--“De la justice? C’est bon pour les autres misérables, la -justice. Je suis maître, moi, pour avoir toujours raison.”_ - - _Le Barbier de Séville, Act II, Scene VII._ - - Beaumarchais and the Duc de Chaulnes--Attempt Upon the Life of - Beaumarchais--Same Evening Gives the Promised Reading of the - _Barbier de Séville_--Victim of a _Lettre de Cachet_. - - -It will be remembered that Gudin in his history of Beaumarchais speaks of -a meeting of literary men at the table of a certain Mademoiselle Ménard, -_femme d’esprit_, where the subject of the comic opera lately composed by -Beaumarchais was discussed. It was this same Mademoiselle Ménard who in -the words of Loménie was “the cause of an Homeric combat between -Beaumarchais, prudent and dexterous as Ulysses, and a duke and peer, -robust and ferocious as Ajax.” - -Mademoiselle Ménard was a young and pretty actress, who in June, 1770, -had made her début with success at the Comédie Italienne. In his -_Correspondence littéraire_, of June, 1770, Baron von Grimme, the great -critic of the time, says of her after a rather cold analysis: -“Mademoiselle Ménard must be given a trial; she seems capable of great -application. It is said that her first occupation was that of a flower -girl on the boulevards, but wishing to withdraw from that estate which -has degenerated a little from the first nobility of its origin, since -Glysère sold bouquets at the doors of the temple of Athens, she bought a -grammar and applied herself to a study of the language and its -pronunciation, after which she tried playing comedies. During her first -attempts, she has addressed herself to all the authors, musicians, and -poets, asking their counsels with a zeal and docility which has had for -recompense the applause which she has obtained in her different rôles. M. -de Pequigny, to-day the duc de Chaulnes, protector of her charms, has had -her portrait painted by Greuze; so if we do not retain her in the theater -we shall at least see her at the next salon.” - -Acting on the wishes of her protector, Mademoiselle Ménard had renounced -the theater and was in the habit of receiving at her house poets, -musicians, and great lords, Beaumarchais among the rest. - -“The duc de Chaulnes,” says Loménie, “was a man notorious for the violence -and extravagance of his character. The history of Beaumarchais by Gudin -contains details about him in every way confirming the testimony of other -contemporaries.” - -“His character,” wrote Gudin, “was a peculiar mixture of contradictory -qualities; _esprit_ without judgment, pride, with such a lack of -discernment as to rob him of dignity before superiors, equals or -inferiors, a vast but disorderly memory, a great desire to improve -himself, a still greater taste for dissipation, a prodigious strength of -body, a violence of disposition which rendered him extremely unreasonable -and robbed him of the power to think clearly, frequent fits of rage which -made of him a savage beast incapable of being controlled. - -“At one time banished from his country for five years, he spent the time -of his exile in making a scientific expedition. He visited the pyramids, -lived with the Bedouins and brought home many objects of natural history.” - -To this portrait by Gudin, Loménie adds the following: “In the midst of -his disorderly and extravagant life, he had conserved something of the -taste of his father, a distinguished mechanician, physicist, and natural -historian who died an honorary member of the Academy of Natural Sciences. -The son loved chemistry passionately and made several discoveries. -Nevertheless even here he displayed many eccentricities. Thus, to verify -the efficacy of a preparation he had invented against asphyxiation, he -shut himself up in a glass cabinet and asphyxiated himself, leaving to his -valet de chambre the care to come to his aid at the proper moment to try -his remedy. Happily his servant was punctual and no harm was done. - -“The peculiar character of the duke rendered his liaison with Mademoiselle -Ménard very stormy. At the same time brutal, jealous, and unfaithful, he -inspired in her little sentiment other than fear. Suddenly becoming -infatuated with Beaumarchais, he introduced him to the young woman in -question.” - -Gudin says, “One of the greatest wrongs that I have known in Beaumarchais -was to appear so amiable to women that he was always preferred, which made -him as many enemies as there were aspirants to please him.” - -The duc de Chaulnes, perceiving very soon that Mademoiselle Ménard found -Beaumarchais very agreeable, his friendship turned to fury. - -“Frightened by his violence,” says Loménie, “she begged Beaumarchais to -cease his visits. Out of regard for her, he consented, but the bad -treatment of the duke continuing, she decided to take the desperate step -of shutting herself up in a convent. When she believed that the danger -was over and that she would be safe in her own home, she returned and -invited her friends, Beaumarchais among them, to come to see her.” - -The duke during his intimacy with Beaumarchais had received many favors -from him, notably important sums of money which, of course, he never -repaid. It was at the moment of the return of Mademoiselle Ménard to her -home that Beaumarchais wrote the following letter to the duke. - - “Monsieur le Duc, - -“Mademoiselle Ménard has notified me that she has returned to her home and -has invited me to come to see her along with all her other friends, when I -can make it convenient. I judge that the reasons which forced her to the -retreat now have ceased. She tells me she is free and I congratulate both -of you sincerely. I expect to see her sometime to-morrow. The force of -circumstances has then done for you what my representations were unable to -accomplish. I have known by what pecuniary efforts you have tried again to -bring her to be your dependent, and with what nobility she has refused -your money. - -“Pardon me if I make certain reflections, they are not foreign to the end -which I have in view in writing this. In speaking to you of Mademoiselle -Ménard I forget my personal injuries. I forget that after making it clear -to you that my attachment for you alone inspired the sacrifices which I -made, and that after having said to me very disadvantageous things about -her, you have changed and said things a hundred times worse to her about -me. I pass also in silence the scene, horrible for her--and disgusting to -me, where you so far forgot yourself as to reproach me with being the son -of a watchmaker. I, who honor myself in my parents in the face of those -even, who imagine they have the right to outrage their own. You must feel, -Monsieur le duc, how much more advantageous my position is at this moment -than your own, and except for the anger which makes you unreasonable, you -would certainly appreciate the moderation with which I repelled the -outrage against him whom I have always made profession of loving and -honoring with all my heart. But if my respectful regards for you have not -gone so far as to make me fear you, then it is because it is not in my -power to fear any man. Believe me, Monsieur le duc, I have never tried to -diminish the attachment of this generous woman for you. She would have -despised me if I had attempted to do so. You have had, therefore, no enemy -but yourself. Recall all that I have had the honor to say in regard to -this subject and give back your friendship to him whom you have not been -able to deprive of his esteem for you. If this letter does not appeal to -you, I shall feel that I have done my duty to the friend whom I have never -offended, whose injuries I have forgotten, and to whom I come now for the -last time....” - -The duke did not reply to this letter and matters remained at a standstill -until one morning the infatuated duke took it into his head to kill -Beaumarchais. - -“Fatality,” says Gudin, “was the cause that I who never left my study in -the morning unless it was to go and turn over the pages of the books or -ancient manuscripts in the Bibliotèque du Roi, had gone out that morning -by request of my mother, it being the 11th of February, 1773. My -commission for her finished and finding myself near the lodging of -Mademoiselle Ménard whom I had not seen for a long time, I mounted to her -apartments. - -“‘It is a great while since I have seen you,’ she said, ‘I feared you no -longer had any friendship for me.’ I assured her of my regard and seated -myself in an armchair. Soon she burst into tears as if her heart could not -contain its grief, and began to recount the violences of the duke and -spoke of a very insulting remark which he had made about Beaumarchais. At -that moment the duke entered the room, I rose and gave him my place. - -“‘I weep,’ she said, ‘and I beg M. Gudin to induce Beaumarchais to justify -himself for the ridiculous accusation you have made against him.’ - -“‘What need is there for a scoundrel like Beaumarchais to justify -himself?’ - -“‘He is a very honest man,’ she said, shedding more tears. - -“‘You love him,’ cried the duke. ‘You humiliate me. I declare to you that -_I will kill him!_’ - -“The duke sprang up and rushed from the room. We all rose and cried out. I -ran to prevent his escape, but he evaded me. I turned back into the room, -I cried to the women that I would warn Beaumarchais and prevent the -combat. - -“I was beside myself, I left and ran to his house. I met his carriage in -the Rue Dauphine. I threw myself in front of the horses, stopped them, -mounted on the steps of his carrosse, and told him that the duc de -Chaulnes was hunting for him and wished to kill him. - -“‘Come home with me, I will tell you the rest.’ - -“‘I cannot,’ he answered, ‘the hour calls me to the tribunal of the -varenne du Louvre, where I must preside, I will come to you as soon as the -audience is finished.’ - -“His carriage started and I went back home. Just as I was mounting the -steps of the Pont-Neuf I felt myself violently pulled by the skirts of my -coat, I fell backward and found myself in the arms of the duc de Chaulnes -who, using his gigantic strength, picked me up like a bird, threw me into -a fiàcre, cried to the coachman, ‘Rue de Condé,’ and said to me with -horrible oaths that I should find for him the man he sought to kill. - -“‘By what right,’ I said, ‘Monsieur le duc, you who are always crying for -liberty, do you take mine from me?’ - -“‘By the right of the strongest. You will find for me--Beaumarchais or--’ - -“‘Monsieur le duc, I have no arms, you will perhaps wish also to -assassinate me?’ - -“‘No--I will only kill that Beaumarchais.’ - -“‘I do not know where he is and if I did, I would not tell you while you -are in the fury of your present rage.’ - -“‘If you resist, I will give you a blow.’ - -“‘And I will return it.’ - -“‘What, you would strike a duke!’ With that he threw himself upon me and -tried to seize my hair. As I wore a wig it remained in his hand, which -made the scene very amusing as I perceived from the laughter of the -populace outside the fiàcre, all the doors of which were open. The duke -who saw nothing, seized me by the neck and wounded me on my throat, my -ear, and my cheek. I stopped his blows as best I could and called the -guard with all my might. The duke grew calmer and we arrived at the home -of Beaumarchais. - -“The duke jumped from the carriage and pounded on the door. I sprang from -the other side of the carriage and knowing that my friend would not be -found, I escaped to my own home by the side streets, there to await the -coming of Beaumarchais. - -“I waited in impatience,--he did not come, I grew uneasy, fear seized me, -I gave orders that he should await me, I ran to his home. Here is what -happened and which is to be found in his petition to the marshals of -France.” - -“Exact recital of what passed Thursday, the 11th of February, 1773, -between M. le duc de Chaulnes and myself, Beaumarchais. - -“I had opened the audience of the _capitainerie_, when I saw M. le duc de -Chaulnes arrive with the most bewildered air that could be imagined and he -said aloud that he had something very pressing to communicate to me and -that I must come out at once. ‘I cannot, Monsieur le duc, the service of -the public forces me to terminate decently what I have begun.’ I had a -seat brought for him; he insisted; everyone was astonished at his air and -tone. I began to fear that his object would be suspected and I suspended -the audience for a moment and passed with him into a cabinet. There he -told me with all the force of the language _des halles_, that he wished to -kill me at once and to drink my blood, for which he was thirsty. - -“‘Oh, is it only that, Monsieur le duc? Permit then, that business go -before pleasure.’ I wished to return; he stopped me, saying that he would -tear out my eyes before all the world if I did not instantly go out with -him. - -“‘You will be lost, Monsieur, if you are rash enough to attack me -publicly.’ - -“I re-entered the audience chamber assuming a cold manner. - -“Surrounded as I was by the officers and guards of the _capitainerie_, -after seating le duc de Chaulnes, I opposed during the two hours of the -audience, a perfect _sang-froid_ to the petulant and insane perturbation -with which he walked about troubling the audience and asking of all, ‘Will -this last much longer?’ - -“Finally the audience was over and I put on my street costume. In -descending, I asked M. de Chaulnes, what could be his grievance against a -man whom he had not seen for six months. - -“‘No explanation,’ he said to me, ‘let us go instantly and fight it out.’ - -“‘At least,’ I said, ‘you will permit me to go home and get a sword? I -have only a mourning sword with me in the carriage.’ - -“‘We are passing the house of M. le Comte de Turpin, who will lend you one -and who will serve as witness.’ - -“He sprang into my carriage. I got in after him, while his equipage -followed ours. He did me the honor of assuring me that this time I would -not escape him, ornamenting his sentences with those superb imprecations -which are so familiar in his speech. The coolness of my replies augmented -his rage. - -“We arrived as M. de Turpin was leaving his home. He mounted on the box of -my carriage. - -“‘M. le duc,’ I said, ‘is carrying me off. I do not know why he wants us -to cut one another’s throats, but in this strange adventure he hopes that -you will wish to serve as witness of our conduct.’ - -“M. de Turpin replied that a pressing matter forced him to go at once to -the Luxembourg and would detain him there until four o’clock in the -afternoon. I perceived that M. de Turpin had for his object to allow time -for the rage of Monsieur le duc to calm itself. He left us. M. de Chaulnes -wished to take me to his home. ‘No, thank you,’ I replied, and ordered my -coachman to drive to mine. - -“‘If you descend I will poniard you at your own door.’ - -“‘You will have the pleasure then, because it is exactly where I am -going.’ Then I asked him to dine with me. - -“The carriage arrived at my door, I descended, and he followed me. I gave -my orders coldly, the postman handed me a letter, the duke seized it from -me before my father and all the domestics. I tried to turn the matter -into a joke, but the duke began to swear. My father became alarmed, I -reassured him and ordered dinner to be served in my study.” - -At this point we return to the account by Gudin which is much less -detailed than Beaumarchais’s recital. - -“The duke followed him, and on entering the study though wearing a sword -of his own, he seized one of Beaumarchais’s which was lying on the table -and attempted to stab him, but found himself seized and enveloped before -he had time completely to draw the sword from its case. The men struggled -together like two athletes, Beaumarchais less strong, but more master of -himself, pushed the duke toward the chimney and seized the bell cord. The -domestics came running in and seeing their master assailed, his hair torn -and his face bleeding, they attacked the duke. The cook arming himself -with a stick of wood was ready to break the skull of the madman. -Beaumarchais forbade them to strike, but ordered that they take away the -sword which the duke held in his hands. They so far disarmed him but did -not dare to take the sword which he still wore at his side. In the -struggle, they had pushed and pulled each other from the study to the -steps, here the duke fell and dragged Beaumarchais with him. At this -moment I knocked at the street door. The duke immediately disengaged -himself and threw open the door. My surprise can be imagined. - -“‘Enter,’ cried the duke, seizing me, ‘here is another who will not go out -of here,’ his mania seemed to be that no one should leave the house until -he had killed Beaumarchais. - -“I joined my friend and tried to make him enter the study with me; the -duke opposed himself to us with violence and drew his own sword. -Beaumarchais seized him by the throat and pressed him so closely that he -could not strike. Eight of us came instantly to his aid and disarmed the -duke. A lackey had his head cut, the coachman his nose injured and the -cook was wounded in the hand. We pushed the duke into the dining-room -which was very near the street door and Beaumarchais went up stairs. - -“As soon as the duke ceased to see his enemy he sat down by himself at the -table and ate with a furious appetite.” - -Here Beaumarchais shall continue with the account: “The duke again heard a -knocking at the door and rushed to open it. He found M. the commissioner -Chenu, who, surprised at the disorder in which he found the establishment, -and at my appearance as I descended to greet him, inquired the cause of -the confusion. I told him in a few words.... At my explanation the duke -threw himself once more upon me striking me with his fists, unarmed I -defended myself as best I could before the assembly who soon separated us. -M. Chenu begged me to remain in the salon while he took charge of the -duke, who had begun to break glass and tear his own hair in rage at not -having killed me. M. Chenu at last persuaded him to go home and he had the -impertinence to have my lackey whom he had wounded, dress his hair. I went -to my room to have myself attended to and the duke throwing himself into -my carriage rode away. - -“I have stated these facts simply, without indulging in any comments, -employing as far as possible the expressions used, and endeavoring to -state the exact truth in recounting one of the strangest and most -disgusting adventures which could come to a reasonable man.” - -Gudin ends his account with a very characteristic picture of Beaumarchais. - -“Anyone else, after an equally violent scene, would have been overwhelmed -with anxiety and fatigue, would have sought repose, and would have been -anxious in regard to precautions against the repeated violence of a great -lord, but Beaumarchais, as cheerful and assured as if he had passed the -most tranquil day, was not willing to deny himself a moment of pleasure. -That very evening, at the risk of encountering the duke, he went to the -home of one of his old friends, M. Lopes, where he was expected to give a -reading of his _Barbier de Séville_. - -“Upon his arrival he recounted to them the adventures of the day. Everyone -supposed that after such an exciting experience, there would be no feeling -on his part for comedy. But Beaumarchais assured the ladies that the -scandalous conduct of a madman should not spoil their evening’s pleasure -and he read his play with as much composure as if nothing had happened. He -was as calm, as gay, and as brilliant during supper as usual, and passed a -part of the night playing on the harp and singing the Spanish seguedillas -or the charming scenes he had set to music which he accompanied with so -much grace upon the instrument which he had perfected. - -“It was thus that in every circumstance of his life he gave himself -entirely to the thing which occupied him without any thought of what had -passed or was to follow, so sure was he of all his faculties and his -presence of mind. He never needed preparation upon any point, his -intelligence was always ready, and his principles of action faultless.” - -As might be expected, the scandalous adventure made a great deal of noise. -It was taken up by the marshals of France, judges in such cases between -gentlemen, and a guard was sent to the home of each one of the -adversaries. Loménie says, “In the interval the duke de la Vrillière, -minister of the house of the king, ordered Beaumarchais to go into the -country for some days, and as the latter protested energetically against -such an order the execution of which, under the circumstances, would have -compromised his honor, the minister had directed him to stay at his home -until the matter had been taken before the king. - -“The marshals then successively called each combatant in turn to appear -before them. Beaumarchais had no trouble in proving that his only wrong -consisted in being permitted the friendship of a pretty woman, and the -result of the investigation having been unfavorable to the duc de -Chaulnes, he was sent on the 19th of February by a _lettre de cachet_ to -the château of Vincennes. The Marshals of France then sent for -Beaumarchais a second time and declared him free. - -“All this was just, but Beaumarchais, not over confident in human justice, -went to the duke de la Vrillière to assure himself that he was free. Not -finding the nobleman at home he addressed a note to Sartine, -lieutenant-général of police, to ask the same question. This latter -replied that he was perfectly at liberty, then for the first time -Beaumarchais ventured to stir abroad. But he counted even then prematurely -on the justice of the court. The very small mind of the duc de la -Vrillière was offended that the tribunal of the marshals of France should -discharge arrests given by him and so to teach the tribunal a lesson and -to show his authority, on the 24th of February he sent Beaumarchais to -For-l’Evêque.” - -As may be imagined, this was a terrible blow to a man of his active -temperament and especially at this time when his enemy the Comte de la -Blache was capable of using the advantage thus acquired to complete his -ruin. Nevertheless his first letter from prison shows his usual serenity -of mind. He wrote to Gudin: “In virtue of a _lettre sans cachet_ -called _lettre de cachet_ signed Louis and below Philippeaux, -recommended--Sartine, executed--Buchot, and submitted Beaumarchais, I am -lodged, my friend, since this morning at For-l’Evêque, in an unfurnished -room at 2160 livres rent where I am led to hope that, except what is -necessary I shall lack nothing. Is it the family of the duke whom I have -saved a criminal suit who have imprisoned me? Is it the ministry whose -orders I have constantly followed or anticipated? Is it the dukes and -peers of the realm with whom I am in no way connected? This is what I do -not know, but the sacred name of ‘King’ is so beautiful a thing that one -cannot multiply it or employ it too frequently _àpropos_. It is thus that -in every country which is governed by police they torment by authority -those whom they cannot inculpate with justice. Wherever mankind is to be -found, odious things happen and the great wrong of being in the right is -always a crime in the eyes of power, which wishes to punish unceasingly, -but never to judge.” - -The two rivals were thus very securely lodged for the present and -Mademoiselle Ménard, the unwilling pretext of all the trouble, was quite -safe from her tormentor. Before the rendering of the sentence, however, -which confined the duc de Chaulnes to the prison of Vincennes, in the fear -which the violence of his character inspired, this “beautiful Helen,” says -Loménie, “went and threw herself at the feet of M. de Sartine, imploring -his protection.” The next day she wrote a letter communicating her fixed -resolve to retire to a convent. Other letters follow and four days after -the terrible scene which has been described, Mademoiselle Ménard entered -the _couvent des Cordelières, faubourg Saint-Marceau, Paris_. - -M. de Sartine had entrusted the very delicate, not to say hazardous -mission of seeing the young woman in question safely lodged in a convent, -to a worthy priest, l’abbé Dugué. This very respectable, very good and -very _naïf_ abbé, wrote the same evening a lengthy letter to the -lieutenant-general of police in which he showed himself very anxious not -to compromise his own dignity as well as not to incur the enmity of a -great duke still at liberty, whose character was universally known. - -After explaining the difficulties he had encountered, and his just -uneasiness in finding himself entangled in what to him was a very -embarrassing affair, he humbly begged that the duke be prevented from -disturbing the young woman, the circumstances of whose history he has been -forced to hide from the good sisters of the Cordelières. If the -interference of the duke could be prevented, he hoped that the repose, -joined to the sweetness of the appearance and character of this _“affligée -recluse”_ would work in her favor in this home of order and prevent his -passing for a liar, or even worse, as though being in fault for irregular -conduct. - -“I left the ladies,” he continues, “well disposed for their new -pensionaire, but I repeat, what disgrace for me, if jealousy or love, -equally out of place, find her out and penetrate even to her parlor there -to exhale their scandalous or their unedifying sighs.” - -The good abbé’s fears in regard to the young woman were, however, -groundless, for as we have seen, by the 19th of February the duc de -Chaulnes was safe in the fortress of Vincennes. - -Loménie continues: “This _affligée recluse_, as the good abbé Dugué said, -was not at all made for the life of a convent, she had scarcely enjoyed -the existence within its protecting walls a fortnight before she felt the -need to vary her impressions, and she abruptly returned to the world, -tranquilized by the knowledge of the solidity of the walls of the château -de Vincennes which separated her from the duc de Chaulnes.” - -Beaumarchais, inactive at For-l’Evêque, having heard of Mademoiselle -Ménard’s return to the world wrote her a most characteristic letter full -of brotherly advice in which is shown his tendency to regulate the -affairs of those in whom he feels an interest, as well as a certain -chagrin perhaps, that the young woman in question should enjoy her liberty -when he, Beaumarchais, is forced to remain inactive at For-l’Evêque. - -He wrote: “It is not proper that anyone should attempt to curtail the -liberty of others, but the counsels of friendship ought to have some -weight because of their disinterestedness. I learn that you, Mademoiselle, -have left the convent as suddenly as you entered it. What can be your -motives for an action which seems imprudent? Are you afraid that some -abuse of authority will force you to remain there? Reflect, I beg you, and -see if you are more sheltered in your own home, should some powerful enemy -think himself strong enough to keep you there? In the painful condition of -your affairs having no doubt exhausted your purse by paying your pension -quarter in advance, and furnishing an apartment in the convent, ought you -to triple your expense without necessity? The voluntary retreat where -sorrow and fear conducted you, is it not a hundred times more suited to -you than those lodgings from which your feelings should wish to separate -you by great distance? They tell me that you weep. Why do you do so? Are -you the cause of the misfortunes of M. de Chaulnes or of mine? You are -only the pretext, and if in this execrable adventure anyone can be -thankful, it ought to be you who have no cause to reproach yourself and -who have recovered your liberty from one of the most unjust tyrants and -madmen who ever took upon themselves the right of invading your presence. - -“I must also take into account what you owe the good and worthy abbé -Dugué, who to serve you, has been obliged to dissimulate your name and -your trouble in the convent, where you were sheltered on his word. Your -leaving, which seems like a freak, does it not compromise him with the -superiors of the convent, in giving him the appearance of being connected -with a black intrigue, he who put so much zeal and compassion into what he -did for you? You are honest and good, but so many violent emotions may -have thrown your judgment into some confusion. You need a wise counsellor -who will make it his duty to show you your situation just as it is, not -happy, but bearable. - -“Believe me, my dear friend, return to the convent where I am told you -have made yourself loved. While you are there, discontinue the useless -establishment which you keep up against all reason. The project which it -is supposed that you have of returning to the stage is absurd. You should -think of nothing but tranquilizing your mind and regaining your health. In -a word, whatever your plans for the future, they cannot and ought not to -be indifferent to me. I should be informed, for I dare say that I am the -only man whose help you should accept without blushing. In remaining in -the convent it will be proved that there is no intimate connection between -us, and I shall have the right to declare myself your friend, your -protector, your brother, and your counselor. - - Beaumarchais.” - -But all these remonstrances were in vain. Mademoiselle Ménard persisted in -remaining in the world. Beaumarchais resigned himself as she became very -useful in soliciting his release. Her name, however, very soon disappears -from the papers of Beaumarchais. His own affairs take on so black an -aspect that he had little time to busy himself with those of others. As -for the duc de Chaulnes before leaving prison he addressed a humble letter -to M. de Sartine in which he promised never again to torment Mademoiselle -Ménard nor to interfere with Beaumarchais, asking only that the latter -keep himself at a distance. - -Thus ends the famous quarrel whose consequence had so profound an effect -upon the career of Beaumarchais as we shall see in the next chapter. - - - - - CHAPTER IX - - _“La Jeunesse--Mais quand une chose est vraie.... - Bartholo--Quand une chose est vraie! si je ne veux pas - qu’elle soit vraie, je prétends qu’elle ne soit pas vraie. Il n’y - aurait qu’a permettre à tous ces faquins-là d’avoir raison, - vous verrez bientôt ce que deviendrait l’autorité.”_ - - _“Le Barbier de Séville,” Act II, Scene VII._ - - Beaumarchais at For-l’Evêque--Letter to his Little Friend-- - Second Trial in the Suit Instituted Against Him by the Count - de la Blache--Efforts to Secure an Audience with the Reporter - Goëzman--Second Judgment Rendered Against Beaumarchais--He - Obtains his Liberty--Loudly Demands the Return of his Fifteen - Louis. - - -Although Beaumarchais’s first letter from For-l’Evêque sounded -philosophical, his situation was cruel in the extreme. Loménie says: “This -imprisonment which fell in the midst of his suit against the Comte de la -Blache did him frightful harm; his adversary profiting by the -circumstance, worked without relaxation to blacken his character before -the judges, multiplying his measures, his recommendations, his -solicitations; and ardently pressing the decision of his suit, while the -unhappy prisoner whose fortune and honor were engaged in this affair, -could not even obtain permission to go out for a few hours to visit the -judges in his turn. - -“M. de Sartine showed him the greatest good-will but he was unable to do -more than mitigate his situation, his liberty depending on the minister. - -“Beaumarchais had begun by pleading his cause before the Duke de la -Vrillière, as a citizen unjustly imprisoned. He sent him memoir after -memoir proving ably that he had done no wrong; he demanded to know why he -had been detained, and when M. de Sartine warned him in a friendly way -that this tone would lead to nothing, he replied with dignity, ‘The only -satisfaction of a persecuted man is to render testimony that he is -unjustly dealt with.’” - -While he was consuming himself in vain protestations, the day for the -judgment of his suit approached. To the demands of M. de Sartine -soliciting permission for Beaumarchais to go out for a few hours each day -the duc de la Vrillière replied always, “That man is too insolent, let him -follow his affair through his attorney!” and Beaumarchais, indignant and -heart-broken, wrote to M. de Sartine: - -“It is completely proved to me that they desire that I shall lose my suit, -if it is possible for me to lose it, but I admit that I was not prepared -for the derisive answer of the duc de la Vrillière to solicit my affair -through my attorney, he who knows as well as I, that it is forbidden to -attorneys. Ah, great heavens! cannot an innocent man be lost without -laughing in his face! Thus, Monsieur, have I been grievously insulted, -justice has been denied me because my adversary is a man of quality, I -have been put in prison, I am kept there, because I have been insulted by -a man of quality. They even go so far as to blame me for enlightening the -police as to the false impressions they have received, while the immodest -gazettes Les Deux-Ponto and Hollande unworthily dishonor me to please my -adversary. A little more and they would say that it was very insolent in -me to have been outraged in every way by a man of quality, because what -is the meaning of that phrase, ‘He has put too much boasting into this -affair?’ Could I do less than demand justice and prove by the conduct of -my adversary that I was in no way wrong? What a pretext for ruining an -offended man, that of saying, ‘He has talked too much about his affair.’ -As if it were possible to talk of anything else! Receive my sincere -thanks, Monsieur, for having notified me of this refusal and this -observation of M. the duc de la Vrillière, and for the happiness of the -country may your power one day equal your sagacity and your integrity! My -gratitude equals the profound respect with which I am, etc., - - “Beaumarchais. - This March 11th, 1773” - -But the correspondence of Beaumarchais with M. de Sartine did not advance -matters in the least. What M. the duc de la Vrillière exacted before -everything else was that he cease to be insolent, that is to demand -justice, and that he ask for pardon. - -Beaumarchais resisted this for about a month, when on the 20th of March he -received a letter without signature, written by a man who seemed to -interest himself in the situation and who endeavored to make Beaumarchais -understand that under an absolute government, when anyone has incurred -disgrace at the hands of a minister, and that minister keeps one in prison -when one has the greatest possible interest to be free, it is not the -thing to do to plead one’s cause as an oppressed citizen but to bow to the -law of force and speak like a suppliant. - -What would Beaumarchais do? He was on the brink of losing a suit most -important for his fortune and his honor, his liberty was in the hands of a -man unworthy of esteem, because the duc de la Vrillière was one of the -ministers the most justly disdained by history, but the situation was such -that this man disposed at will of his destiny. Beaumarchais resigned -himself at last, humiliated himself. See him in the part of suppliant. - - “Monseigneur, - -“The frightful affair of M. the duc de Chaulnes has become for me a -succession of misfortunes without end, and the greatest of all is that I -have incurred your displeasure in spite of the purity of my intentions. -Despair has broken me and driven me to measures which have displeased you, -I disavow them Monseigneur, at your feet, and beg of you a generous -pardon, or if it seems to you that I merit a longer imprisonment, permit -me to go during a few days to instruct my judges in the most important -affair for my fortune and my honor, and I submit after the judgment to -whatever pain you may impose. All my family weeping join their prayers to -mine. Everyone speaks, Monseigneur, of your indulgence and goodness of -heart. Shall I be the only one who implores you in vain. You can with a -single word fill with joy a host of honest people whose gratitude will -equal the very profound respect with which we are all, and I in -particular, Monseigneur, your, etc., - - “Beaumarchais. - From For-l’Evêque, March 21, 1773.” - -The duc de la Vrillière was satisfied in his petty vanity, so a reply was -soon forthcoming. The next day, March 22nd, the minister sent to M. de -Sartine the authorization to allow the prisoner to go out during the day, -under the conduct of an agent of police, but obliging him to eat and sleep -at For-l’Evêque. - -In the meantime, however, another disgrace was threatening him. Some -enemy had taken advantage of his absence to attack his rights as -_lieutenant-général des chasses_. “From the depths of his prison,” wrote -Loménie, “he reclaimed them immediately in a letter to the duc de La -Vallière where he appeared proud and imposing as a baron of the middle -ages.” - - “Monsieur le duc, - -“Pierre-Augustin Caron de Beaumarchais, lieutenant-général at the court of -justice of your _capitainerie_, has the honor of representing to you that -his detention by order of the king has not destroyed his civil estate. He -has been very much surprised to learn that in violation of the regulation -of the _capitainerie_ of May 17th which says that every officer who does -not bring valid excuse for not being present at the reception of a new -officer will be deprived of his _droit de bougies_, etc., etc. The -exactitude and zeal with which the suppliant has always fulfilled the -functions of his charge to the present day makes him hope, Monsieur le -duc, that you will be so good as to maintain him in all the rights of the -said charge against every kind of enterprise or infringement. When M. de -Schomberg was in the Bastille the king permitted him to do his work for -_les Suisses_ which he had the honor to command. The same thing happened -to the M. the duc du Maine. - -“The suppliant is perhaps the least worthy of the officers of your -_capitainerie_ but he has the honor of being its lieutenant-général and -you will certainly not disapprove, Monsieur le duc, that he prevents the -first office of that _capitainerie_ to grow less under his hands or that -any other officer takes upon himself the functions to its prejudice. - - Caron de Beaumarchais.” - - -In striking contrast to this picture of Beaumarchais defending so proudly -his rights before a great noble, is another, also drawn by his own hand, -in a letter to a child of six years in which all the warmth and goodness -of his heart, as well as the delicacy of his sentiments, manifest -themselves. - -We already have mentioned the fact that as secretary to the king, -Beaumarchais was the colleague of M. Lenormant d’Étioles, the husband of -Madame de Pompadour. After the death of his first wife in 1764, he had -married a second time and he now had a charming little son, six and a half -years old. Beaumarchais, intimate with the family, completely had won the -heart of this little boy whose pretty ways were a constant reminder of the -child he had lost. Learning that his friend was in prison, the child -spontaneously wrote the following letter: - - “Neuilly, March 2nd, 1773. - Monsieur, - -“I send you my purse, because in prison one is always unhappy. I am very -sorry that you are in prison. Every morning and every evening I say an Ave -Maria for you. I have the honor to be, Monsieur, your very humble and very -obedient servitor - - Constant.” - -Beaumarchais instantly replied: - -“My good little friend Constant, I have received with much gratitude your -letter and the purse which you joined to it. I have made a just division -of what it contained among the prisoners, my companions, according to -their different needs, while I have kept for your friend Beaumarchais the -best part, I mean the prayers, the Ave Marias, of which I certainly have -need, and so have distributed to the poor people who suffer imprisonment -all that the purse contained. Thus intending to oblige only a single man -you have acquired the gratitude of many. This is the ordinary fruit of -such good actions as yours. - - “Bonjour, my little friend Constant, - Beaumarchais.” - -And to the child’s mother he wrote at the same time: “I thank you very -sincerely, Madame, for having sent me the letter and the purse of my -little friend Constant. These are the first outbursts of the sensibility -of a young soul which promise excellent things. Do not give him back his -purse, in order that he may not think that such sacrifices bring a similar -recompense, but later you may give it to him that he may have a reminder -of the tenderness of his generous heart. Recompense him now in a way that -will give him a just idea of his action without allowing him to pride -himself upon it. But what am I thinking of to join my observations to the -pains that have caused to germinate and to develop so great a quality as -benevolence at an age when the only morality is to report everything to -oneself. Receive my thanks and my compliments. Permit that M. l’abbé -Leroux participate in them. He has not satisfied himself with teaching his -pupils to decline the word virtue, he inculcates the love of it. He is a -man full of merit and more fitted than anyone to second your views. This -letter and the purse have caused me the joy of a child. Happy parents! You -have a son capable at the age of six of this action. And I also had a son, -I have him no more, and yours gives you already such happiness. I partake -in it with all my heart, and I beg you to continue to love him a little -who is the cause of this charming outburst of our little Constant. One -cannot add anything to the respectful attachment of him who honors -himself, Madame, etc. - - Beaumarchais. - From For-l’Evêque, March 4, 1773” - -“And this,” says Loménie, “is the man whom the Comte de la Blache -charitably calls a finished monster, a venomous species of which society -should be purged, and at the moment when the count says this, it is the -opinion almost universally adopted. It is in vain that Beaumarchais -follows his guard and returns every evening to his prison, passing his day -in hastening from one to another of his judges, the discredit attached to -his name followed him everywhere. - -“Under the influence of this discredit, and upon the report of the -Counsellor Goëzman, the parliament decided at last between him and M. de -la Blache, and gave, April 5th, 1773, a strange judgment from a legal -point of view. This judgment, declared nul and of no effect the act made -between the two majors, saying that there was no need of _lettres de -récision_, that is to say, that the question of fraud, surprise or error -being set aside, Beaumarchais found himself indirectly declared a forger -although there was against him no inscription of forgery.” - -In the words of Bonnefon, “Precisely the counsellor designated as -_rapporteur_ in the affair of Beaumarchais by la Blache was one of the -least scrupulous members of that strange parliament. A learned legist, he -had begun his career as judge of the superior council of Alsace, and the -chancellor Maupeou, in quest of magistrates who could be bought, had -raised him to his new functions. - -“Valentine Goëzman was not overly scrupulous in regard to the means of -conviction employed and if he kept his doors well closed to all litigants -it was only to make them open all the wider by the money of those who -solicited his audiences. - -“Needy himself he had married a second wife, young and coquettish, even -less delicate than her husband as to the choice of means. ‘It would be -impossible,’ she was heard to say, ‘it would be impossible for us to live -from what is given us, but we know how to pick the chicken without making -it cry out.’” - -It was a certain publisher, who according to Loménie, “hearing that -Beaumarchais was in despair at not being able to find access to his -reporter, sent him word that the only means of obtaining the audience and -assuring the equity of the judge was to make a present to his wife, who -demanded two hundred louis.” - -But of this strange proceeding, let us allow the victim to step forward -and speak for himself. In the exposition made in the first of those famous -memoirs of which we shall soon speak, Beaumarchais wrote: “A few days -before the one appointed for the judgment of my suit, I had obtained from -the minister permission to solicit my judges under the express and -rigorous conditions of going accompanied by a guard, the sieur Santerre, -named for this purpose, and of going only to the judges, returning to the -prison for all my meals and to sleep, which exceedingly embarrassed my -movements and shortened the time accorded for my solicitations. - -“In this short interval I presented myself at least ten times at the -office of Monsieur Goëzman without being able to see him. I was not very -much affected by this. M. Goëzman was of the number of my judges but there -was no pressing interest between us. On the first of April however when he -was charged with the office of reporter of my suit he became essential to -me. - -“Three times that afternoon I presented myself at his door always with -the written formula, ‘Beaumarchais prays Monsieur to be so good as to -accord him the favor of an audience, and to leave orders with the door -keeper setting the hour and day.’ It was in vain. The next morning I was -told that Monsieur Goëzman would see no one, and that it was useless to -present myself again. I returned in the afternoon; the same reply. - -“If one reflects that of the four days which were left me before the -decision, one and a half had already been spent in vain solicitations and -that twice a friend of Monsieur Goëzman had been to him and vainly pleaded -for an audience for me, one can conceive of my disquietude. - -“Not knowing what to do, on returning I entered the home of one of my -sisters to take council and to calm my mind. It was then that the sieur -Dairolles, lodging at my sister’s, spoke of a certain publisher, Le-Jay, -who perhaps might procure for me the audience which I desired. He saw the -man and was assured that by means of a sacrifice of money an audience -would be promptly given.” - -At this point let us break the narrative of Beaumarchais while we listen -for a moment to Gudin. “I was with him when he was told that if he wished -to give money to the wife of the reporter he could obtain the audiences he -desired, and that this was only too necessary in our miserable manner of -gaining justice. I remember very well the anger which seized him at this -proposition and the pride with which he rejected it. - -“But his friends and family as well as myself, alarmed at what his enemies -were doing to ruin him, united our solicitations and tore from him rather -than obtained his consent.” - -And Beaumarchais, after giving in great detail the above scene, continues, -“To cut the matter short, one of the friends present ran home and brought -two rolls of fifty louis each, which I did not possess, and gave them to -my sister, and these were finally delivered to Madame Goëzman while I -returned to prison.” - -The details which follow are too numerous to be given here. It is -sufficient to say that though the reporter promised an audience for nine -o’clock that same evening, Beaumarchais on arriving found that he was not -expected. He was, however, this time not to be rejected and finally -succeeded in forcing admittance. It was the moment when Madame and -Monsieur Goëzman were preparing to seat themselves at table. A few -moments’ conversation convinced Beaumarchais that the judge’s mind was -made up and he returned to his prison, more alarmed than ever. His desire -for a satisfactory audience was augmented rather than diminished. It was -the fourth of April, the following day the final decision was to be given. -Through the sieur Dairolles and Le-Jay Madame Goëzman demanded a second -hundred louis and promised this time to secure the audience. Beaumarchais -did not possess the money but offered a watch set with diamonds which was -of equal value. She accepted the watch, but demanded fifteen louis extra -as a gratification for her husband’s secretary. Beaumarchais, desperate, -gave them, although as he told us, with a very bad grace. The audience was -promised for seven o’clock. - -Beaumarchais presented himself, but in vain. This time he was unable to -force an entrance and returned without seeing the judge. - -He continues: “The reader, tired at last of hearing so many vain promises, -so many useless steps, will judge how beside myself I was to receive the -one and to take the other. I went back to prison, rage in my heart. Now -came a new course of intermediaries, this time the curious reply which -was brought to me cannot be omitted. ‘It is not the fault of the lady if -you have not been received. You may present yourself to-morrow. But she is -so honest that if you cannot obtain an audience before the judgment she -assures you that you shall receive again all that she has received of -you.’ - -“I argued evil from this new announcement. Why did the lady engage herself -to return the money? I had not asked for it. I made the most of the -melancholy reflections on this subject. But although the tone and the -proceeding seemed absolutely changed, I was none the less resolved to make -a last effort to see my reporter the next morning; the only instant of -which I could profit before the judgment.” - -An interested friend had succeeded in penetrating to the presence of -Goëzman the night before and the judge promised to see Beaumarchais the -next morning. The latter says: “If ever an audience seemed sure, this one -certainly did, promised on the one hand by the reporter while his wife -received the price on the other. Nevertheless, in spite of the assurances -of all, we were no happier than on former occasions.... Santerre and I -remained for an hour and a half, but the orders were positive, we were not -allowed to cross the threshold. - -“But I had lost my suit, the evil was consummated. The same evening, sieur -Dairolles returned to my sister the two rolls of fifty louis each and the -watch. As for the fifteen louis, he said since they were required by the -secretary of M. Goëzman, Madame Goëzman believed herself discharged from -returning them. - -“This conduct of the secretary was an enigma to me, I wished to fathom it. -In the beginning he had modestly refused ten louis voluntarily offered -him. I begged the friend who finally had induced the secretary to accept -the ten louis to inquire if he had received the fifteen louis given to -Madame Goëzman for him. He replied that they had never been offered to him -and if they had been, he would not have accepted them.... - -“Stung by the dishonest means employed to retain the fifteen louis, -believing even that the sieur Le-Jay whom I did not know at all perhaps -had wished to keep them, I demanded of him through the sieur Dairolles -what had become of them. - -“He affirmed that Madame Goëzman had refused to give them back, and -assured him that it had been arranged that in any case they were lost to -me. He could not endure that it should be supposed that he had kept them, -the lady herself was not to be seen, but I might write to her. - -“The 21st of April, that is, seventeen days after the judgment, I wrote -her the following letter. - -“‘I have not the honor, Madame, of being personally known to you and I -should be very far from importuning you, if after losing my suit, when you -were good enough to return to me the two rolls of louis and my watch, you -had at the same time returned the fifteen louis, which the common friend -who negotiated between us left you in supererogation. - -“‘I have been so horribly treated in the report of Monsieur, your husband, -and my defence has been so trampled under foot before him that it is not -just that to the immense loss which this report has cost me should be -added that of fifteen louis which it is impossible should have strayed in -your hands. If injustice must be paid for, it should not be paid by him -who has so cruelly suffered. - -“‘I hope you will be so good as to respect my demand, and that you will -add to the justice of returning me these fifteen louis that of believing -me, with the respectful consideration which is due to you - - Madam, your, etc.’” - -Bonnefon says: “To this demand the wife of the counsellor grew indignant -and cried aloud. Beaumarchais was not to be intimidated and maintained his -demand. It was then that the counsellor intervened and complained first to -Monsieur the duc de la Vrillière and then to M. de Sartine; badly -instructed perhaps and feeling sure of an easy triumph over an enemy -already half-vanquished, he brought a suit for calumny before the -parliament. - -“Beaumarchais did not draw back. The counsellor accused him of attempt at -corruption; his presence of mind did not desert him. He replied to -everything with a vivacity and an apropos truly remarkable. Listen to him. - -“... ‘It is time that I speak. Let me wash myself from the reproach of -corruption by a calculation and some very simple reflections. - -“‘It cost me a hundred louis to obtain an audience of M. Goëzman. Be so -good as to follow the trace of that money and then judge, if from the -distance where I remained from the reporter it was possible that I had -formed the mad project of corrupting him. - -“‘In ceding to the necessity of sacrificing one hundred louis which I (one -person) did not possess; a friend (two persons) offered them to me, my -sister (three) received them from his hands, she confided them to sieur -Dairolles (four); who gave them to the sieur Le-Jay (five) to be given to -Madame Goëzman (six) who kept them, and finally Monsieur Goëzman (seven), -whom I could see only at that price and who knew nothing about the whole -affair. See then from M. Goëzman to me a chain of seven persons of which -he says I hold the first link as corruptor, while he holds the last as -incorruptible. Very good. But if he is judged incorruptible how will he -prove that I am corruptor?’ ...” - -Monsieur Loménie, entering into more detail, says of Goëzman: “He must -have been convinced that his wife had seriously compromised herself. -Compromised himself through her, he had to choose between several -different measures; all of them, in presence of a litigant discontented -and fearless, offered great disadvantage for his reputation; the one which -he adopted was incontestably the most daring, but also the most -dishonorable. - -“Starting from the idea that Beaumarchais had not the force to resist him, -he imagined that in taking the initiative and attacking him while -maneuvering in such a way that the truth might not be made known, he might -be able to ruin him who had given the fifteen louis, and save her who had -received them. It will be seen that the stratagem of Goëzman was baffled -and his crime cruelly punished.” - -But to return to the decision given by the parliament on the report of -Goëzman April 5th. Loménie says: “At the same time that this decree -dishonored Beaumarchais it was a rude blow to his fortune. The Parliament -had not dared award to the Comte de la Blache as he had demanded, the -passing of the act of settlement declared by it nul; the iniquity would -have been too glaring; but it condemned his adversary to pay fifty-six -thousand livres of debt annulled by the act of settlement, the interests -of the debt and the costs of the suit. - -“It was enough to crush him for at the same time the Comte de la Blache -seized all his goods and revenues, other pretending creditors with equally -false pretentions, united their persecutions with those of the Comte de la -Blache, and the man thus attacked demanded in vain, with loud cries that -the doors of his prison be opened. - -“‘I am at the end of my courage,’ he wrote April 9, 1773, to M. de -Sartine. ‘The opinion of the public is that I am entirely sacrificed, my -credit has fallen, my business is ruined, my family of which I am the -father and the support is in despair. Monsieur, I have done good all my -life without ostentation and I have never ceased to be torn to pieces by -those evilly disposed. - -“‘If my home were known to you, you would see me in the midst of its -members, a good son, a good brother, a good husband, and a useful citizen; -I have assembled only benedictions about me, while my enemies calumniate -me at a distance. - -“‘Whatever vengeance one may wish to take of me for that miserable affair -of Chaulnes, will it then have no limits? It is well proved that my -imprisonment makes me lose a hundred thousand francs. The form, the -ground, everything makes one shudder in that iniquitous sentence, and it -is impossible for me to rise above it so long as I am kept in this -horrible prison. I have courage to support my own misfortunes; but I have -none against the tears of my respectable father, seventy-five years of -age, who is grieving himself to death for the abject state to which I have -fallen. I have none against the anguish of my sisters, of my nieces, who -already feel the horror of my detention and know of the disorder which has -come to my affairs because of it. All the activity of my being is again -turned inward, my situation kills me, I am struggling against an acute -malady of which I feel an agonizing premonition, through loss of sleep and -disgust with food. The air of my prison destroys me.’ - -“It was in this state of deep depression and misery when the soul of -Beaumarchais seemed overwhelmed and all his manhood slipping from him, -that the petty detail of the fifteen louis came to stir his mind once more -to action, and while his sisters wept and his father prayed, his proud and -unconquerable spirit rose triumphant out of the abyss into which for a -moment it had fallen, and with fresh courage gleaming in his eyes he began -pacing the floor of his prison, already ‘meditating his memoirs.’ - -“The minister de la Vrillière allowed himself at last to be touched, and -on the 8th of May, 1773, after two months and a half of detention without -cause, he gave the prisoner his liberty. - -“It is here that out of this lost process sprang suddenly another more -terrible still, which should complete the ruin of Beaumarchais, but which -saved him and made him pass in a few months from the state of abjection -and of misery where to use his own expression, ‘He was an object of -disgust and pity to himself, to a state where he is acclaimed the -vanquisher of the hated parliament and the favorite of the nation.’” - -“He was,” says Grimm, “the horror of Paris a year ago; everyone upon the -word of his neighbor, believed him capable of the greatest crimes; all the -world dotes on him to-day.” It remains for us now to explain how this -change of opinion came about. - - - - - CHAPTER X - -_“Mais que dira-t-on quand on apprendra que ce Beaumarchais, qui jusqu’à -présent n’est connu que par son inaltérable gaîté, son imperturbable -philosophie, qui compose à la fois un air gracieux, un malin vaudeville, -une comédie folle, un drame touchant, brave les puissants, rit des sots et -s’amuse aux dépens de tout le monde?”_ - - _Marsolier--“Beaumarchais à Madrid,” Act IV, Scene V_ - - The Goëzman Lawsuit--The Famous Memoirs of Beaumarchais. - - -We have come at last to the turn of the tide in the career of -Beaumarchais, which in his case is no ordinary tide but a tidal wave so -gigantic in force that he is carried by it to such a height of popularity -as fixes upon him for the time the attention of Europe. - -“The degree of talent which he displayed,” says La Harpe, “belongs to the -situation. It came from his perfect accord with the time in which he lived -and the circumstances in which he found himself. The secret of all great -success lies in the power of the man to see with a comprehensive glance -what he can do with himself and with others.” - -Already we have had occasion to note that in this harmony between -Beaumarchais and the circumstances of his life lies the secret of his -genius. He is no moralizer, but he sees things clearly and in just -proportion and he knows how to take advantage of his own position as well -as of the weakness of his adversaries. - -In relation to the lawsuit of which we now write, La Harpe further says, -“What would have disconcerted or rendered furious an ordinary person did -not move the spirit of Beaumarchais. Master of his own indignation and -strong with that of the public, he called upon it to witness the fraud -which has been employed against him.” At first many cry out that it is -ridiculous to make such a fuss about fifteen louis; his family, his -friends, Gudin among the number, implore him to desist; wiser than they, -he instinctively feels that in the very pettiness, the absurdity of the -charge, lies its gigantic force. - -Again quoting La Harpe, “It was a master stroke, this suit about the -fifteen louis; and what joy for the public, which in reading Beaumarchais -saw in his different memoirs which rapidly succeeded one another, only the -hand which took upon itself to revenge the people’s wrongs. The facts did -not speak, they cried!” - -When Beaumarchais found himself actually charged with a criminal -accusation capable of sending him to the public infamy of the pillory or -the galleys, unable to find a lawyer willing to plead his cause, it was -then that the whole power of his genius was revealed to him. Instantly he -realized that he was to be his own lawyer, and that from the magistracy -before him, it was to the people that he must appeal, “that judge of -judges,” and we see him flinging forth one factum after another, while all -the force of his soul, the gaiety of his character, the brilliancy of his -wit, returned to him in overabundant measure. The family and friends, -lately so depressed, rose with the rising of his courage, lent to him the -whole force of their beings and formed the constant inspiration of his -ever-increasing success. - -In a few weeks his first memoir had attracted the attention of all -France, while in less than three days after the publication of the fourth, -more than six thousand copies had been sold. At the ball or the opera, -people tore them from one another’s hands, and in the cafés and foyers of -the theaters they were read out loud to enthusiastically admiring crowds. - -[Illustration: Title Page of the Mémoires de M^r Caron de Beaumarchais] - -What could be more surprising? Judicial factums or memoirs universally -recognized as being the dryest and most uninteresting of writings come to -be preferred to all others? - -It was, as Voltaire said, after reading the fourth memoir, “No comedy was -ever more amusing, no tragedy more touching,” and Lintilhac taking up this -judgment and applying it to the memoirs has made perhaps the most -brilliant of the many criticisms which this subject has called forth. - -“The judgment of Voltaire,” he says, “reveals to us the most original of -their merits, that of being a tragi-comedy in five acts. The unity of the -subject is placed in evidence by this question which is so often raised. -Who is culpable of the crime of corruption--the judge whose surroundings -put his justice at auction, or the litigant thus constrained to scatter -gold about the judge? - -“The five memoirs mark the phases of the debate. The first is a perfect -exposition of the subject destined to soothe the judges. After having made -a résumé of the preceding incidents, and taken his position, Beaumarchais -engages the offensive and orders his intrigue by light skirmishes in the -form of episodes. Then he opens a dramatic perspective upon the sudden -changes of the contest. - -“From the first to the second memoir during the _entre-act_ the action has -advanced. A rain of ridiculous and arrogant factums, of false testimonies -and infamous calumnies has poured down upon the victim of the piece. The -black intrigue is knotted, the scenes press varied and picturesque. At -first it is that of the registrar, then Madame Goëzman comes before us -with insults but ends with artful pretty faces. After this comic prelude, -the two principal characters engage in the background, in a dramatic -contest. - -“‘Give me your hand,’ cries Beaumarchais, and illuminating the scene, he -ousts his crafty adversary, seizes him, drags him frightened like a thief -in the night to the nearest lamp post, that is to say, the crude -illumination of the foot lights, crying in his face the invective: ‘And -you are a magistrate! To what have we come, great heavens!’ - -“Similar to the third act of a strongly intrigued play, the third memoir -throws the adversaries on the scene and engages them in a furious fray. We -have just seen the judge imprudent enough to descend from the tribunal to -the arena, he lies there panting under the grip of his adversary, it is -then that fly to his aid ‘that swarm of hornets.’ The image is piquant, -the scene, does it not renew the _parabase des Guêpes_? ‘Six memoirs at -once against me!’ cries the valiant athlete in an outburst of manly -gaiety. He takes up the glove, salutes them all around with an ironic -politeness, and then sends all of them, Marin, Bertrand, Arnaud, Baculard, -even to Falcoz, who in vain tries to turn in a whirligig upon an -absurdity, to bite the dust by the side of Goëzman. It is the moment to -bring up the reserves. They arrive in serried ranks. Here comes a -president and a whole host of counsellors. ‘My, what a world of people -occupied to support you, Monsieur!’ - -“A daring offensive alone can disengage Beaumarchais. He instantly makes -it, and following his favorite tactics, he wears it as an ornament, an -accusation of forgery well directed against Goëzman changes the rôles; -this is the grand counter movement of the piece. - -“A sudden stupor has broken up the allies, their adversary knows how to -profit by their confusion, and throws out his petition of mitigation. It -is the fourth act. He prepares briefly and wisely the fifth. Beaumarchais -with an affected and deadly moderation, sums up the facts, fortifies -himself in the conquered position and prepares the supreme assault. - -“At last in the fourth memoir he gives out the fifth act of the peace. - -“Without ceding in the least to the third memoir in point of composition, -the fourth in spite of an occasional ‘abuse of force,’ according to La -Harpe, surpasses it by its heat and brilliancy. - -“There reigns above everything else an ease that Beaumarchais announces -from the beginning. ‘This memoir,’ he says, ‘is less an examination of a -dry and bloodless question, than a succession of reflections upon my -estate as accused.’ - -“It is the best of his dramas, a _mélange_ of mirth and pathos, where are -centered and dissolved with an authoritative cleverness, all the elements -of interest and of action which he draws from the heart of his subject and -which are multiplied by his fancy and his fears. In the beginning, an -invocation, the prelude of a _héroïque-comique_ drama, then thanking a -host of honest people who applaud and whose aid he skilfully declines, the -hero springs with one bound into the fray. - -“He directs his finishing blows to each one of his adversaries, and making -a trophy of their calumnies, he awards himself an eloquent apology which -he modestly entitles, ‘Fragments of my voyage in Spain.’ The episode of -Clavico, thanks to the touching interest which it excites, crowns the -memoir like the recitals which unravel the plot in classic plays, and -whose discreet eloquence leads the soul of the auditor to a sort of final -appeasement. - -“If the action is dramatic, the characters are no less so. First Madame -Goëzman advances, a scowl upon her face, but at a gracefully turned -compliment from her adversary, ‘at once a sweet smile gives back to her -mouth its agreeable form.’” - -And so with the rest. “But the most vivid of all his portraits is that of -the principal personage, the author himself, this propagandist always _en -scène_, who is never weary, whom one sees or whom one divines everywhere, -animating everything with his presence, the center of all action and -interest. He is endowed with such a beautiful sang-froid, which acts under -all circumstances, and such vivid sensibility that everything paints -itself in his memory, everything fixes itself under his pen. So that he -appears to us in the most various attitudes; here the soul of gallantry, -advancing to offer his hand to Madame Goëzman; there of modesty lowering -his eyes for her, or again, hat in hand very humbly inclining before the -passage of some mettlesome president.” - -But as Gudin assures us, “The courage of Beaumarchais was not -insensibility. The tone of his memoirs showed his superiority but he was -none the less deeply affected. I have seen him shed tears, but I have -never seen him cast down. His tears seemed like the dew which revivifies. -The hour of combat gave him back his courage. He advanced, dauntless, -against his enemies; he felled them to the ground and caused to react upon -them the outrages with which they attacked him. In their despair they -published that he was not the author of his memoirs. ‘We know,’ they -cried, ‘where they are composed and who composes them.’ - -“It was this accusation which gave to Beaumarchais the opportunity for one -of his wittiest retorts. ‘Stupid people, why don’t you get your own -written there?’” - -Gudin was even accused of writing them,--faithful Gudin, whose history of -France in thirty-five volumes never found a publisher, and “whose prose,” -says Loménie, “resembled that of Beaumarchais about as the gait of a -laboring ox resembles that of a light and spirited horse.” - -Rousseau when he heard the accusation cried out, “I do not know whether -Beaumarchais writes them or not, but I know this, no one writes such -memoirs for another.” - -Voltaire in the depths of his retreat read the memoirs with eager -interest. Personal reasons had made him in the beginning a supporter of -the parliament Maupeou. Little by little, he changed his opinion; “I am -afraid,” he wrote, “that after all that brilliant, hare-brained fellow is -in the right against the whole world.” And a little later, “What a man! He -unites everything; jesting, gravity, gaiety, pathos,--every species of -eloquence without seeking after any; he confounds his adversaries; he -gives lessons to his judges. His _naïveté_ enchants me.” - -As to the most atrocious calumnies circulated against him, La Harpe who -knew him well, although never intimately, has said: “I have not forgotten -how many times I heard repeated by persons who did not believe in the -least that they were doing wrong, that a certain M. de Beaumarchais who -was much talked about had enriched himself by getting rid successively of -two wives who had fortunes. Surely this is enough to make one shudder, if -one stops to reflect that this is what is called scandal (something -scarcely thought sinful) and that there was not the slightest ground for -such a horrible defamation. He had, it is true, married two widows with -fortunes, which is surely very permissible for a young man with none. He -received nothing from the one, because in his grief he forgot to register -the contract of marriage duly, and this alone which rendered the crime -useless was sufficient to prove his innocence. - -“He inherited something from the second who was a very charming woman, -whom he adored. She left him a son, whom he lost soon after his wife’s -death. I do not know why no one ever accused him of poisoning the child, -that crime was necessary to complete the other. It is evident, even if he -had not loved his wife, that in keeping her alive he had everything to -gain, as her fortune was in the main hers only during life. - -“These are public facts of which I am sure, but hatred does not look for -the truth, and it knows that it will not be required of it by the -thoughtless. Where are we, great Heavens, if a man cannot have the -misfortune to inherit from his wife without having poisoned her?...” - -When Voltaire, who had heard the calumny, read the memoirs of -Beaumarchais, he said, “This man is not a poisoner, he is too gay.” - -La Harpe adds, “Voltaire could not know as I do, that he was also too -good, too sensible, too open, too benevolent to commit any bad act, -although he knew very well how to write very amusing and very malicious -things against those who blackened him.” - -Compelled to defend himself and to prove himself innocent of a crime so -horrible that its name could scarcely be forced to pass his lips, he -replies with a gentleness, but a power of eloquence which confounds his -adversaries. “Cowardly enemies, have you then no resource but base insult? -Calumny machinated in secret and struck out in the darkness? Show -yourselves then, but once, if for nothing more than to tell me to my face -that it is out of place for any man to defend himself. But all honest -people know very well that your fury has placed me in an absolutely -privileged class. They will excuse me for taking this occasion to -confound you, where forced to defend a moment of my life I am about to -spread a luminous daylight over the rest. Dare then to contradict me. Here -is my life in a few words. - -“For the last fifteen years I honor myself with being the father and the -sole support of a numerous family, and far from being offended at this -avowal which is torn from me, my relatives take pleasure in publishing -that I have always shared my modest fortune with them without ostentation -and without reproach. - -“O you who calumniate me without knowing me, come and hear the concert of -benedictions which fall upon me from a crowd of good hearts and you will -go away undeceived. - -“As to my wives, from having neglected to register the contract of -marriage, the death of the first left me destitute in the rigor of the -term, overwhelmed with debts and with pretentions which I was unwilling to -follow, not wishing to go to law with the relatives, of whom, up to that -moment, I had no reason to complain. My second wife in dying carried with -her more than three-fourths of her fortune, so that my son, had he lived, -would have found himself richer from the side of his father than that of -his mother.... - -“And you who have known me, you who have followed me without ceasing, O my -friends, say, have you ever known in me anything but a man constantly gay, -loving with an equal passion study and pleasure, inclined to raillery but -without bitterness, welcoming it against himself when it was well -seasoned, supporting perhaps with too much ardor his own opinion when he -believed it to be just, but honoring highly and without envy everyone whom -he recognized as superior, confident about his interests to the point of -neglecting them, active when he is goaded, indolent and stagnant after the -tempest, careless in happiness but carrying constancy and serenity into -misfortune to the point of astonishing his most intimate friends.... - -“How is it that, with a life and intentions the most honorable, a citizen -sees himself so violently torn to pieces? That a man so gay and sociable -away from home, so solid and benevolent in his family, should find himself -the butt of a thousand venomous calumnies? This is the problem of my life. -I search in vain for its solution.” - -It was by such outbursts of feeling that Beaumarchais won the hearts of -all except those who for personal reasons were bent upon his ruin. But as -the admiration of the one side increased, the fury of the other was -proportionally augmented. Under the able guidance of M. de Loménie, let us -examine a few of the adversaries who presented themselves, and from the -few, the reader may judge of the rest. - -First of all is Madame Goëzman, “who,” says Loménie, “wrote under the -dictates of her husband and threw at the head of Beaumarchais a quarto of -seventy-four pages, bristling with terms of law and Latin quotations. - -“Beaumarchais sums up in a most _spirituelle_ manner the profound -stupidity of the factum when he cries out, ‘An ingenuous woman is -announced to me and I am presented with a German publicist.’ - -“But if the memoir of Madame Goëzman is ridiculous in form, it is in -matter of an extreme violence. ‘My soul,’ it is thus that Madame Goëzman -begins, ‘has been divided between astonishment, surprise, and horror in -reading the libel of sieur Caron. The audacity of the author astonishes -me, the number and atrocity of his impostures excite surprise, the idea he -gives of himself fills me with horror.’ When we remember that the honest -lady who speaks has in her drawer the fifteen louis, whose reclamation -excites the astonishment, surprise, and horror, one is inclined to excuse -Beaumarchais for having permitted himself certain liberties of language. -It is very well known with what mixture of ironic politeness and pressing -argumentation he refutes, irritates, embarrasses, compliments, and -confounds Madam Goëzman. - -“Who has not burst into laughter on reading that excellent comic scene -where he paints himself dialoguing with her before the registrar? The -scene is so amusing that one would be tempted to take it for a picture -drawn at fancy. This is not the case however....” - -A few extracts from this comic scene will give the reader an idea of _la -force de tête_ of the pretty woman attempting to face so subtle an -adversary as Beaumarchais. - - “Confrontation of myself with Madame Goëzman. - -“No one could imagine the difficulty we had to meet one another, Madame -Goëzman and I. Whether she was really indisposed as many times as she sent -word to the registrar, or whether she felt the need of preparation to -sustain the shock of a meeting so serious as that with me, nevertheless we -at last found ourselves facing each other. - -“Madame Goëzman, summoned to state her reproaches if she has any to -formulate against me, replied, ‘Write that I reproach and _récuse_ -monsieur because he is my capital enemy and because he has an atrocious -soul, known for such in Paris, etc.’ The phrase seemed a little masculine -for a lady, but on seeing her fortify herself, leave her natural -character, inflate her voice to utter these first injuries, I decided that -she felt the need of beginning her attack by a vigorous period and so I -did not mind her bad temper. - -“Her reply was written verbatim and I was questioned in my turn. Here is -my answer: ‘I have no reproach to make against madame, not even for her -little bad humor which dominates her at this moment; but many regrets to -offer for the necessity of a criminal process in order to present to her -my homage. As to the atrocity of my soul I hope to prove to her by the -moderation of my replies and by my respectful conduct that her counsel has -evilly informed her in my regard.’ - -“And it was written down. This is the general tone that prevailed during -the eight hours that we passed together the twice that we met.” - -After several pages of this interrogation, Beaumarchais gives us, “The -Confrontation of Madame Goëzman With Me.” From which we give the following -extracts: - -“I took the liberty of saying, ‘To-day, Madame, it is I who hold the -attack, we shall first take up your interrogations.’ - -“I took the papers to run them over. - -“‘What? This Monsieur here, has he the liberty to read all that I have -been made to write?’ - -“‘It is a right, Madame, which I shall use with all possible deference. In -your first interrogation, for instance, to the sixteen consecutive -questions upon the same subject, that is, to know whether you received one -hundred louis from Le-Jay to procure an audience for le sieur Beaumarchais -I see to the great honor of your discretion that the sixteen replies are -not charged with any superfluous ornaments. - -“‘Questioned as to whether you have received one hundred louis in two -rolls?’ - -“You reply, ‘That is false.’ - -“‘If you put them in a case ornamented with flowers?’ - -“‘That is not true.’ - -“‘If you kept them until the day after the suit?’ - -“‘Atrocious lie.’ - -“‘If you did not promise an audience to Le-Jay for the same evening?’ - -“‘Abominable calumny.’ - -“‘If you had not said to Le-Jay, money is not necessary, your word is -sufficient?’ - -“‘Diabolical invention,’ etc., etc. Sixteen negations following one -another in relation to the same subject. - -“And yet you admit freely at the second interrogation that ‘It is true -that Le-Jay presented one hundred louis, that I put them away in an -_armoire_ and kept them a day and a night, but simply to accommodate that -poor Le-Jay, because he was a good man and did not realize the -consequences, and because the money might make him tired in carrying it -about.’ (What goodness, the sums were in gold!) - -“‘As these replies are absolutely contrary to the first, I beg you madame -to be so good as to tell us which of the two interrogations you decide to -hold to in this important matter?’ - -“‘Neither to the one nor to the other, Monsieur, all that I said there -means nothing, and I shall only hold to my verification which is the only -thing that is true.’ All this was written down. - -“‘It must be admitted, Madame,’ I said to her, ‘that the method of -recusing this your own testimony after having recused that of every one -else would be the most convenient of all if it could only succeed. In -waiting for the parliament to adopt it let us see what is said of the one -hundred louis in your verification.’ - -“Madame Goëzman here assured us that she begged Le-Jay to take away the -money with him and that when he was gone she was astonished to find it in -a case decorated with flowers which was on the mantel piece. She sent -three times during the day to that poor Le-Jay begging him to come and get -his money, which he did not do until the day after. - -“‘Observe, Madame, that in the first instance of all, you have rejected -the one hundred louis with indignation, then put them aside with -complaisance, while in the last case it is without your knowledge that -they remained with you. Here are three narrations of the same act, what is -the true version I beg you?’ - -“‘I have said to you, Monsieur, that I shall hold to my verification,’ -etc., etc., etc.” - -Then comes the question of the fifteen louis: “I begged her to be so good -as to tell us clearly and without equivocation whether she had not -required fifteen louis of Le-Jay for the secretary, and if she had not put -them in the bureau when Le-Jay gave her the money. - -“‘I replied clearly and without equivocation that Le-Jay never spoke to me -of the fifteen louis, neither did he give them to me.’ - -“‘Observe, Madame, that there would be more merit in saying, ‘I refused -them,’ than in maintaining that you know nothing about them.’ - -“‘I maintain, Monsieur, that no one ever spoke to me of them. Would there -have been any sense of offering fifteen louis to a woman of my quality, -after having refused a hundred the day before?’ - -“‘The day before what, Madame?’ - -“‘Eh, monsieur, the day before the day----’ (she stopped suddenly and bit -her lip.) - -“‘The day before the day,’ I said to her, ‘on which no one ever spoke to -you about the fifteen louis, _n’est-ce-pas?_’ - -“‘Stop this,’ she said, rising furious to her feet, ‘or I will give you a -box on the ears. I’ve had enough of those fifteen louis! With all your -despicable little _tournures de phrases_ you try to confuse me and make me -blunder, but I tell you in truth that I shall not answer you another -word.’ And her fan assuaged by redoubled strokes the fire which had -mounted to her face.... She was like a lioness feeling that she had just -escaped being taken. - -“After Madame Goëzman came Bertrand who began with this epigram taken from -the Psalms _‘Judica me, Deus, et discerne causam meam de gente non sancta, -et ab homine iniquo et doloso erue me_.’” - -Beaumarchais avenged himself on _le grand_ Bertrand by indicting upon him -the celebrity of ridicule. Here, as elsewhere, the shade of the -physiognomies is perfectly grasped. It is in vain that Bertrand attempted -to deal terrible blows, in vain that he committed to writing such phrases -as, “cynic orator; buffoon; brazen-faced sophist; unfaithful painter who -draws from his own soul the filth with which he tarnishes the robe of -innocence; evil, from necessity and from taste; his heart hard, -implacable, vindictive; light-headed from his passing triumph; and -smothering without remorse human sensibility ...” instead of paying back -anger for anger, Beaumarchais contented himself with painting his enemy. -He painted him talkative, shrewd for gain, undecided, timid, hot-headed, -but more stupid than bad, in a word exactly as he showed himself in the -four grotesque memoirs with which he has enriched this famous suit. - -The fourth champion who precipitated himself upon Beaumarchais, the head -lowered to pierce him through by the first blow, was a novelist of the -time, amusing enough in a melancholy way, who prided himself as he said, -upon having _l’embonpoint du sentiment_. It is d’Arnaud-Baculard, who, to -be agreeable to the judge Goëzman, wrote a letter containing a false -statement and who, after being very politely set right in the first memoir -of Beaumarchais, replied in this style: - -“Yes, I was on foot and I encountered in the rue de Condé, the sieur -Caron _en carrosse_--_dans son carrosse_,” and as Beaumarchais had said -that d’Arnaud had a somber air, he grew indignant and cried, “I had an -air, not somber but penetrating. The somber air goes only with those who -ruminate crime, who work to stifle remorse and to do evil--There are -hearts in which I tremble to read, where I measure all the somber depths -of hell. It is then that I cry out, ‘thou sleepest, Jupiter! for what -purpose then hast thou thy thunderbolts?’” - -“One sees,” said Loménie, “that if d’Arnaud on his side was not _méchant_, -it was not from lack of will. The reply of Beaumarchais perhaps will be -found interesting; there it will be seen with what justice he gave to each -one his deserts, and what attractive serenity he brought into the combat. -He began by reproducing the phrase of d’Arnaud about the _carrosse_. - -“‘_Dans son carrosse_,’ you repeat with great point of admiration, who -would not believe after that sad, ‘yes I was on foot’ and that great point -of admiration which runs after my _carrosse_, that you were envy itself -personified. But I, who know you to be a good man, I know that the phrase -_dans son carrosse_, does not signify that you were sorry to see me in my -_carrosse_, but only that you were sorry that I did not see you in yours.’ - -“‘But console yourself, Monsieur, the _carrosse_ in which I rode was -already no more mine when you saw me in it. The Comte de la Blache already -had seized it with all my other goods. Men called _à hautes armes_, with -uniforms, bandoliers and menacing guns guarded it, as well as all my -furniture; and to cause you, in spite of myself, the sorrow of seeing me -in my _carrosse_ it was necessary that same day that I had that of -demanding, my hat in one hand and a _gros écu_ in the other, the -permission to use it, of that company of officers, which I did, _ne vous -déplaise_, every morning, and while I speak with such tranquillity the -same distress reigns in my household. - -“‘How unjust we are! We are jealous of and we hate such and such a one -whom we believe happy, who would often give something over, to be in the -place of the pedestrian who detests him because of his _carrosse_. I, for -example: could anything be worse than my actual situation? But I am -something like the cousin of Héloise, I have done my best to cry; the -laugh has to escape from some corner. This is what makes me gentle with -you. My philosophy is, to be, if I can, contented with myself and to let -the rest go as it pleases God.’ - -“And at the end, after the honey comes the sting. ‘Pardon, Monsieur, if I -have not replied by an express writing to you alone, to answer all the -injuries of your memoir, pardon, if, seeing you measure in my heart the -somber depths of hell, and, hearing you cry, “_Tu dors, Jupiter; à quoi te -sert donc ta foudre?_” I have replied lightly to so much bombast. Pardon, -you were a school boy, no doubt, and you remember that the best blown up -balloon needs only the stick of a pin.’” - -But it is impossible without becoming wearisome to draw forth all the -characters and to allow them to pass in review. Let us turn our attention -for a few moments to the sublime invocation of the fourth memoir, and with -it a few observations of M. de Sainte-Beuve, taken from his admirable -criticism of the memoirs of Beaumarchais in his famous “_Causeries de -Lundi_.” - -In this invocation the orator supposes himself to be speaking with God, -“that Beneficent Being who watches over all.” The Supreme Being deigns to -speak even to him, saying, “I am He who is all. Without me thou didst not -exist. I gave thee thy body, healthy and strong, I placed in it the most -active of souls. Thou knowest the profusion with which I have poured -sensibility into thy heart, and gaiety into thy character; but, filled as -I see thee with the happiness of thinking, of feeling, thou wouldst be too -happy if some sorrow did not balance the state of thy fortune, therefore I -will overwhelm thee with calamities without number, thou shalt be torn by -a thousand enemies, deprived of liberty, of thy property, accused of -rapine, of forgery, of imposture, of corruption, of calumny, groaning -under the opprobrium of a criminal lawsuit, attacked upon every point of -thy existence by absurd, ‘they say’ and tossed about to the scrutiny of -public opinion....” - -Then he prostrates himself before the Supreme Being accepting his whole -destiny and saying, “Being of all Beings, I owe to Thee all things, the -happiness of existence, of thinking, of feeling. I believe that Thou hast -given us the good we enjoy and the evil we suffer in equal measure; I -believe that Thy justice has wisely compensated all things for us and that -the variety of pains and pleasures, fears and hopes, is the fresh wind -which sets the vessel in motion and causes it to advance upon its way....” - -In relation to the above Sainte-Beuve says: “I have wished to cite this -fresh and happy image which impresses us like a morning breeze, which in -spite of everything reached him across the bars of his prison. This was -the true Beaumarchais, truer than he ever painted himself elsewhere. - -“In his invocation he continues to address himself humbly to the Supreme -Being, begging, since he must have enemies that they be given him -according to his choice, with the faults, the stupid and base animosities -which he designates, and then with admirable art and vivifying brush, he -sketches one after another all his adversaries, giving them an -unmistakable resemblance. ‘If,’ he says, ‘my misfortune must begin by an -unforeseen attack by a greedy legatee, for a just debt, for an act founded -on the reciprocal esteem and the equity of the contracting parties, accord -me for adversary, a man, miserly, unjust and known so to be’--and he -designates the Comte de la Blache so vividly that every one has named him -already. It is the same for the counsellor Goëzman, for his wife, and for -their acolytes, but here his ardent spirit outstrips its bounds, it can no -longer be contained--at the end of each secondary portrait the name -escapes of itself and this name is an additional comic touch, ‘Supreme -Goodness--Give me Marin! Give me Bertrand! Give me Baculard!’ - -“The whole idea,” says Sainte-Beuve, “the manner of its conception and -execution, with so much breadth, superiority of gaiety and irony, all with -one stroke, one breath, composes one of the most admirable pieces of -eloquence which our oratorical literature can offer.” - -It was by such outbursts as these, that the nation was aroused from the -semi-torpor into which it had fallen after the subsidence of the -resistance offered to the establishment of the new parliament. With one -voice Beaumarchais was hailed as the deliverer of the rights of the -people, and the saying, “_Louis the XV_ founded the parliament which -_fifteen louis_ destroyed,” was the slogan of a new era of public acclaim -for justice and equity. In every country of Europe Beaumarchais’s memoirs -were read, and they excited the liveliest admiration. In the memoirs of -Goethe it is told how at a social gathering where those of Beaumarchais -were being read aloud, a young woman suggested to the poet that the -incident of Clavico might be converted into a drama, where Beaumarchais -should come upon the scene. From Philadelphia even came warm expressions -of interest, while from every corner of France letters of congratulation, -of sympathy and admiration poured upon the hero of the hour. - -A few extracts will be sufficient to give an idea of the reigning -enthusiasm. The wife of one of the presidents of the ancient parliament, -Madame de Meinières, wrote after reading the fourth memoir: “I have -finished, Monsieur, that astonishing memoir. I was angry yesterday at the -visits which interrupted that delicious reading and when the company was -gone, I thanked them for having prolonged my pleasures by interrupting -them. On the contrary, blessed forever be _le grand cousin_, the -sacristan, the publicist and all the respectables who have been worth to -us the relation of your trip to Spain. You really owe a reward to those -people. Your best friends could never have done for you, by their praises -or their attachment, what your enemies have done in forcing you to talk -about yourself. Grandison, the hero of the most perfect of romances, does -not come to your foot. When one follows you to the home of that Clavico, -that M. Whall’s, to the ambassador’s, to the King’s presence, the heart -palpitates and one trembles and grows indignant with your indignation. -What magic brush is yours, Monsieur! What energy of soul and of -expression, what quickness of _esprit_! What impossible blending of heat -and prudence, of courage and of sensibility, of genius and of grace! - -“When I saw you at Madame de Sainte-Jean’s you seemed to me as amiable as -the handsome man that you are, but these qualities are not what make a man -attractive to an old woman such as I. I saw too that you had gifts and -talents, that you were a man of honor and agreeable in every way, but I -would never have dreamed, Monsieur, that you were also a true father of -your family, and the sublime author of your four memoirs. Receive my -thanks for the enthusiasm into which your writings have thrown me and the -assurances of the veritable esteem with which I have the honor to be, -Monsieur, etc. - - “Guichard de Meinières. - This 18th of February, 1774.” - -A second letter from the same pen, speaks in even stronger terms. - -“Whatever the result of your quarrel with so many adversaries, I -congratulate you, Monsieur, to have had it. Since the result of your -writings is to prove that you are the most honest man in the world, in -turning the pages of your life no one has been able to prove that you have -ever done a dishonorable deed, and assuredly you have made yourself known -as the most eloquent man, in every species of eloquence which our century -has produced. Your prayer to the Supreme Being is a chef-d’oeuvre, the -ingenious and astonishing blending of which produces the greatest effect. -I admit with Madame Goëzman that you are a little _malin_ and following -her example, I pardon you, because your _malice_ is so delicious. I hope, -Monsieur, that you have not a sufficiently bad opinion of me to pity me -for having read eight hundred pages when you have written them. I begin by -devouring them, and then return on my steps. I pause, now at a passage -worthy of Demosthenes, now at one superior to Cicero, and lastly a -thousand quite as amusing as Molière; I am so afraid of finishing and -having nothing more to read afterwards, that I recommence each paragraph -so as to give you time to produce your fifth memoir, where without doubt -we shall find your confrontation with M. Goëzman; I beg you simply to be -so good as to notify me by _la petite poste_ the day before, that the -publisher may send copies to the widow Lamarche; it is she who furnishes -them to me. I always take a number at a time for us and for our friends, -and I am furious always, when, not knowing in time of their publication, I -send too late, and word is brought me that I must wait until the next -day.” - - - - - CHAPTER XI - -_“Après le bonheur de commander aux hommes, le plus grand honneur, -Monsieur, n’est-il pas de les juger?”_ - - _Préface du Barbier de Séville._ - - The Preparation of the Memoirs--Aid Rendered by Family and - Friends--The Judgment--Beaumarchais _Blâmé_--Enters the - Secret Service of the King--Gudin Relates the Circumstances - of the Meeting between the Civilly Degraded Man and Her Who - Became His Third Wife--The Père Caron’s Third Marriage. - - -But while public opinion was expressing itself so loudly in his favor, the -situation of Beaumarchais was in reality cruel in the extreme. - -The breaking up of his household had necessitated the separation of the -members of his family. His father went to board with an old friend, while -Julie retired temporarily to a convent. The two sisters whose acquaintance -we made while Beaumarchais was in Madrid, had returned to France, the -elder a widow with two children. All of these were dependent upon the -generosity of the brother and uncle. Madame de Miron, the youngest sister, -had died during the same year, so that it was at the home of the next to -the oldest member of the family, Madame Lépine, that the family reunions -were held. - -M. de Loménie has drawn an admirable picture of these gatherings, where -eager and devoted friends met to discuss, suggest, and criticise with -Beaumarchais the composition of his memoirs. - -He says: “His coadjutors are his relatives and nearest friends. First of -all it is the elder Caron, who with his seventy-five years of experience, -gives his advice about the memoirs of his son. It is Julie, whose literary -aptitudes we are already acquainted with. It is M. de Miron, the -brother-in-law of Beaumarchais, _homme d’esprit_, of whom we have spoken -elsewhere, who furnishes notes for the satirical parts; it is Gudin, who -very strong in ancient history, aids in composing several erudite portions -and whose heavy and pale prose grows supple and takes color under the pen -of his friend. It is a young and very distinguished lawyer named Falconnet -who superintends the drawing up by the author of parts where it is as a -question of law. It is at last a medical doctor from the Provence, named -Gardanne, who especially directs the dissection of the _Provençaux_ his -compatriots, Marin and Bertrand.” - -This is the little phalanx that Madame Goëzman, in her memoirs, calls a -“_clique infame_” and which the _grand Bertrand_, less ferocious and more -reasonable names simply, _la bande joyeuse_. - -[Illustration: Figaro] - -They were in fact very joyful, all those _spirituals bourgeois_, grouped -around Beaumarchais, combating with him a crowd of enemies, and not -without running personal risk, because Julie notably was formally -denounced by Goëzman. There was a printed petition of this judge directed -especially against her, although it had no consequences. All of them, -however, underwent interrogations, confrontations, and verifications, but -they came out none the worse for it and their gaiety supported the courage -and the ardor of the man to whom they were devoted heart and soul. -Beaumarchais, forced to live _en camp volant_ at the mercy of the sheriffs -of the Comte de la Blache and the persecutions of the judge Goëzman, was -always on the wing but he came to the home of Madame Lépine near the -Palais de Justice to prepare with his friends his means of defense and -attack. It is in this house that the elements of each memoir were -discussed. All the first draughts were written by the hand of -Beaumarchais, all the brilliant portions are rewritten by him three or -four times. Like all who wish to write well, he corrects and rewrites many -times, he cuts out, amends, concentrates and purifies. If at times he -allows himself to be too easily satisfied, he has friends prompt to -censure him who do not spare him. - -M. de Miron especially criticises in detail and with persistent candor. -“Beaumarchais profited from all these aids, so that if his memoirs against -Goëzman do not present from the nature of the subject all the interest of -the ‘_Barbier de Séville_’ or the ‘_Mariage de Figaro_,’ they are none the -less, so far as style is concerned, the most remarkable of all his works, -the one where the good qualities of the author are the least mixed with -faults. They contain portions of a really finished perfection.” - -Monsieur de Loménie assures us further, that a certain passage, which is -cited at times as being one of the most graceful of the memoirs, is due -largely to Julie. He quotes at length the rough draughts of the passage in -question as it appeared in its different stages, at first rather dry as -written by Beaumarchais, then colored and animated by the brush of Julie, -finally very skillfully retouched by her brother. It is where the -_plaideur_ replies to the attack of Madame Goëzman upon the ancestry and -profession of his father. The printed text is as follows: - -“You begin your chef-d’oeuvre by reproaching me with the condition of my -ancestors; alas madame, it is too true that the last of all united to -several branches of industry a considerable celebrity in the art of -watchmaking. Forced to pass condemnation on that article I admit with -sorrow that nothing can wash from me the just reproach which you make me -of being the son of my father.... But I pause, because I feel him behind -me, who, watching while I write, laughs while he embraces me. Oh you, who -reproach me with my father, you have no idea of his generous heart. In -truth, watchmaking aside, there is no one for whom I would exchange him; -but I know too well the value of time which he taught me to measure to -waste it by similar trifling.” - -Supported as Beaumarchais was by the constant affection of those nearest -to him the loss of his fortune and the dissolution of his household were -the least of the calamities weighing upon him. He had known, as we have -seen, how to gain the support of the nation at large, but he remained -still completely at the mercy of the parliament which he had so hopelessly -offended in daring to open up before the whole world those proceedings -which it was never intended should be exposed to the light of day. It was -of this period that La Harpe says, “Afterwards prosperity came of itself, -it was during the combat and the oppression that his glory was gained.” - -The unique character of this contest as well as its sublimity lies in -this, that it is not simply a personal matter in which he was engaged. The -blows he dealt so deftly had behind them the force of a nation eager to -avenge itself, a nation whose favorite weapon was ridicule. Never was that -weapon wielded by “a hand more intrepid and light. It seemed to amuse him -to lead before the public so many personages like animals for combat.” -“Simpletons,” says La Harpe, “are by no means rare and they bore us; to -put them before us in a way to make us laugh so heartily and so long, to -make them amusing to the point of finding pleasure in their stupidity, is -surely no common talent, it is that of good satire and good comedy.” - -This was the talent of Beaumarchais. The public laughed, it is true, but -the simpletons thus led forward did not laugh, nor did the chancellor -Maupeou. They were waiting, rage in their hearts, for the day of vengeance -which was not far off. - -Begun in August, 1773, the suit had gone on until February of the -following year. “The day of judgment,” says Loménie, “arrived on the 26th -of February, 1774, in the midst of universal interest. - -“‘We are expecting to-morrow,’ wrote Madame du Deffand to Horace Walpole, -‘a great event, the judgment of Beaumarchais.... M. de Monaco has invited -him for the evening to read us a comedy _de sa façon_, which has for the -title _le Barbier de Séville_.... The public is crazy over the author who -is being judged while I write. It is supposed that the judgment will be -rigorous and it may happen that instead of supping with us he will be -condemned to banishment or to the pillory; this is what I will tell you -to-morrow.’ - -“Such is the _dose_ of interest which Madame du Deffand takes in people. -What a pity for her if the accused had been condemned to the pillory. She -would have lost the reading of the _Barbier_. She lost it anyway. For -twelve hours the deliberation of the judges prolonged itself. Beaumarchais -addressed to the prince of Monaco the following note which belongs with -the letter of Madame du Deffand. - -“‘Beaumarchais, infinitely sensible of the honor which the Prince of -Monaco wishes to do him, replies from the Palace where he has been nailed -since six o’clock this morning, where he has been interrogated at the bar -of justice, and where he waits the sentence which is very long in coming; -but, in whatever way things turn, Beaumarchais who is surrounded by his -family at this moment cannot flatter himself to escape them until he has -received either their congratulations or their condolence. He begs -therefore that the Prince of Monaco will be so good as to reserve him his -kindness for another day. He has the honor of assuring him of his very -respectful gratitude. - -“‘This Saturday, February 26th, 1774.’” - -“The evening before the judgment,” says Gudin, “he arranged his private -affairs, passed the night at work, and went to the gate of the palace -before it was day, saw the judges pass before him and submitted to his -last interrogation. When it was finished and it only remained to the -judges to decide, Beaumarchais returned to the home of his sister who -lived near the Palais de Justice. Fatigued from so much labor and very -certain that there was nothing left for him to do in that critical time, -he went to bed and slept as profoundly as though no one in the universe -were occupied with the thought of him. I arrived and found him sunk in a -sleep such as only comes to a pure, strong soul, and a truly superior -mind, because at such a moment it would have been considered pardonable in -anyone to have felt the anguish of anxiety. He slept while his judges -watched, tormented by the furies. Divided among themselves, they -deliberated in tumult, spoke in rage, wishing to punish the author of the -memoirs but foreseeing the clamor of the public ready to disavow them. At -last after almost fifteen hours of contradictory opinions and violent -debates, they abandoned reciprocally their victims. - -“The lady of the fifteen louis was _blâmée_ and Beaumarchais was condemned -also to _blâme_ which seemed a contradiction. The magistrate, husband of -the woman, was put out of court which was equivalent to _blâme_ for a -magistrate, who thus remained incapable of filling any function of the -magistracy. - -“I was by his side with all the family when a friend came running, -terrified to tell him this absurd judgment. He did not utter an angry word -or make a gesture of indignation. Master of all his movements as of his -mind, he said, ‘Let us see what there yet remains to be done.’” - -Loménie says: “The penalty of _blâme_ was an ignominious one which -rendered the condemned incapable of occupying any public office, and he -was supposed to receive the sentence on his knees before the court, while -the president pronounced the words, ‘The court blames thee and declares -thee infamous.’” - -Gudin says, “This sentence had been so badly received by the multitude -assembled at the doors of the chamber, the judges had been so hissed on -breaking up the audience, although many of them took themselves out of the -way by passing through the long corridors unknown to the public, which are -called les _détours du palais_, they saw so many marks of discontentment -that they were not tempted to execute to the letter the sentence which -attracted to them only the _blâme universel_.” - -Before speaking of the veritable triumph which the public accorded to -Beaumarchais in return for this cruel sentence, let us finish with the -parliament Maupeou. - -“It was not destined,” says Loménie, “long to survive this act of anger -and vengeance. In striking with civil death a man whom public opinion -carried in triumph, it had struck its own death-blow. The opposition which -had slept, now roused, let itself loose upon the parliament with redoubled -fury. Pamphlets in prose and verse took on a new virility, the end of the -reign assured its fall, and one of the first acts of the new king, Louis -XVI was to establish the old parliament.” Louis XV died in May, 1774, the -old parliament was re-established in August of the same year. - -“There were not lacking those,” says Bonnefon, “who called the destruction -of the parliament Maupeou, the Saint-Bartholomew of the ministers.” - -The Spanish ambassador, quick at repartee, added, “that in any case it was -not the massacre of the Innocents.” - -But to return to Beaumarchais. “All the gentlemen at court,” says Gudin, -“all the most distinguished persons of Paris, inscribed themselves at his -door. No one spoke of anything but of him.” - -“It was at the very moment,” says Beaumarchais, “when they declared that I -was no longer anything, that everyone seemed the most eager to count me -for something. Everywhere I was welcomed, sought after; offers of every -nature were showered upon me.” The Prince of Conti was the first to set -the example. - -“We are of a sufficiently illustrious house,” he said, “to show the nation -what is her duty toward one who has deserved so well of his country.” He -left his name the same day at the door of the man whom the parliament had -attempted to degrade, inviting him to a princely festival the next day -where some forty or more of the greatest personages of the realm were -present. The Duke of Chartres showed a like attention. It was in the midst -of all these ovations that M. de Sartine wrote to him: - -“‘I counsel you not to show yourself any more publicly. What has happened -is irritating to many people. It is not enough to be blamed, one must be -modest as well. If an order came from the king I should be obliged to -execute it in spite of myself. Above everything do not write anything, -because the king wishes that you publish nothing more upon this affair.’” - -Gudin says: “Determined as was Beaumarchais to break this iniquitous -sentence, he was yet conscious that the royal power was a rock against -which prudence might well fear to throw herself. He therefore took the -wise policy of submitting to the weakness of the king, to obey him and to -keep silent.” - -“Wishing, however, to show to the world,” says Lintilhac, “that his -silence was not cowardice, he withdrew from France and retired into an -obscure place in Flanders.” - -“It could not be expected,” says Bonnefon, “that Beaumarchais would rest -tranquilly under the blow of a condemnation which struck him with civil -death and ruined his career.” His first thought was to appeal for a second -judgment. But he feared lest the parliament might confirm the sentence by -a second act and foreseeing that it was already doomed, his great desire -was to secure from the king a reprieve, which would allow him the right of -appeal, no matter how long the period of time elapsed since the decree was -issued. - -Several days after the judgment he wrote to his friend La Borde, banker at -court and particular friend of Louis XV. - -“They have at last rendered it; this abominable sentence, chef-d’oeuvre -of hatred and iniquity. Behold me cut off from society and dishonored in -the midst of my career. I know, my friend, that the pains of opinion -should trouble only those who merit them; I know that iniquitous judges -have all power against the person of an innocent man and nothing against -his reputation. All France has inscribed itself at my door since Saturday! -The thing which has most pierced my heart on this sinister occasion is the -unhappy impression which has been given the king concerning me. It has -been said to him that I was pretending to a seditious celebrity; but no -one has told him that I only have defended myself, that I never ceased to -make my judges feel the consequences which might result from this -ridiculous suit. - -“You know my friend that I always have led a quiet life, and that I should -never have written upon public matters if a host of powerful enemies had -not united to ruin me. Ought I to have allowed myself to be crushed -without attempting self-justification? If I have done it with too much -vivacity is that a reason for dishonoring me and my family, and cutting -off from society an honest subject whose talents might perhaps have been -employed usefully for the service of the king and the state? I have -courage to support a misfortune which I have not merited, but my father -with his seventy-five years of honor and work upon his head and who is -dying of sorrow, my sisters who are women and weak, their condition is -what kills me, and renders me inconsolable. Receive, my generous friend, -the sincere expression of the ardent gratitude with which I am, etc. - - “Beaumarchais.” - -A second letter to La Borde, written from his retreat in Flanders, shows -that the much desired reprieve had been granted him. He wrote, “The -sweetest thing in the world to my heart, my dear La Borde, is the -generosity of your sincere friendship. Everyone tells me that I have a -reprieve; you add to this the news that it is the king’s free will that I -obtain it. May God hear your prayers, my generous friend!” - -To be sure the king had granted the reprieve but he set a price upon this -favor. “Judging from the very dexterity which Beaumarchais had displayed -in the Goëzman affair,” says Loménie, “Louis XV felt that he had need of -such skill and promised letters of relief to put him in a position to -recover his civil estate, if he should fulfill with zeal and success a -difficult mission to which the king attached a great importance. So it was -that the vanquisher of the Parliament Maupeou presently went to London in -the capacity of secret agent of the king.” - -But before entering into a consideration of this new phase of adventure, -let us ask the faithful historian, Gudin, to relate to us a charming -incident which came at the moment of the triumph of Beaumarchais, to add -sweetness to its brilliancy. Gudin wrote: - -“The celebrity of Beaumarchais attracted to him the attention of a woman -endowed with wit and beauty, a tender heart and a firmness of character -capable of supporting him in the cruel combats that were destined to come -to him. She did not know him at all, but her soul, touched by reading his -memoirs, by the fame of his courage, called to that of this celebrated -man. She burned with a desire to see him. I was with him when, under the -frivolous pretext of busying herself with music, she sent a man of her -acquaintance, and of that of Beaumarchais, to beg him to lend her his harp -for a short time. Such a demand under such circumstances disclosed her -intentions. Beaumarchais comprehended, he replied, ‘I lend nothing, but if -the lady wishes to come with you I will hear her play and she may hear -me.’ She came, I was witness to their first interview. - -“I already have said that it was difficult to see Beaumarchais without -loving him. What an impression must he have produced when he was covered -with the applause of the whole of Paris; when he was regarded as the -defender of an oppressed liberty, the avenger of the public. It was still -more difficult to resist the charm attached to the looks, the voice, the -hearing, the discourse of Mademoiselle de Willermawlaz. The attraction of -the first moment was augmented from hour to hour, by the variety of their -agreeable accomplishments and the host of excellent qualities which each -discovered in the other as their intimacy increased. Their hearts were -united from that moment by a bond which no circumstance could break and -which love, esteem, time, and the law rendered indissoluble.” - -Of the charming woman here described who subsequently became the third -wife of Beaumarchais we shall have occasion to speak later. For the -present, his situation was such that marriage was out of the question, -their union was not solemnized until later. Their one and only daughter, -Eugénie, was born in 1777. She was the darling of her father, the source -of his deepest happiness and the cause of his cruelest suffering. It was -for her that we shall find him, old and broken in health, setting himself -with almost juvenile vigor, at the time of his return from exile after the -Reign of Terror, to gather together the shattered remains of his fortune. - -At the moment of his triumph in 1774, flattered, praised, and loved as we -have seen him, this condition was offset not only by the judgment of -parliament which ruined his career, but by a domestic trouble which was at -that moment preparing for him. - -His father’s health had been so shattered by the terrible strain through -which he had been obliged to pass by the succession of calamities which -had befallen his son that in the end the vigor of his mind became -impaired. - -It was thus that shortly before his death in 1775, at seventy-seven years -of age, without the knowledge of his son, he united himself in marriage -with the woman who had been provided for him, as caretaker. M. de Loménie -says of this individual, “She was a cunning old maid, who made him marry -her in the hope of being ransomed by Beaumarchais. - -“Profiting by the weakness of the old man, she had had assigned to her in -their contract of marriage, the dowry and the part of a child. However, -the elder Caron left no fortune. The portion which he had received from -his second wife had gone towards partly covering the advances made to him -by his son who in addition gave him a lifetime pension. A written -settlement guaranteed Beaumarchais; but the third wife of the elder Caron, -speculating upon the celebrity of the son and his repugnance to a suit of -such a nature at the very moment when he had scarcely recovered himself -from the suit Goëzman, threatened to attack the settlement and to make a -noise. - -“For the first time in his life,” continues Loménie, “Beaumarchais -capitulated before an adversary and disembarrassed himself by means of -6,000 francs of the person in question, a person, by the way, very subtle, -very daring, and _assez spirituelle,_ to judge from her letters. - -“Upon the package of documents relating to this affair I find written in -the hand of Beaumarchais these words: _‘Infamie de la veuve de mon père -pardonnée’_ (Infamy of the widow of my father, pardoned). It is to the -influence of this _rusée commère_ that we must attribute the only moment -of misunderstanding between the father and the son during an intimate -correspondence which embraced the last fifteen years of the life of the -former; and it must be added that the misunderstanding lasted but a -moment, because the letter of the father on his death-bed which has -already been cited proves that harmony had been completely re-established -between them at the time of the death of the elder Caron towards the end -of August, 1775.” - - - - - CHAPTER XII - -_“Il n’y a pas de conte absurde qu’on ne fasse adopter aux oisifs d’une -grande ville, on s’y prenant bien.”_ - - _Le Barbier de Séville, Act II, Scene VIII_ - - Beaumarchais Goes to London in Quality of Secret Agent of Louis - XV--Theveneau de Morande and His Gazetier Cuirassé--The King - Dies--Beaumarchais’s Second Mission Under Louis XVI--Playing - Figaro upon the Stage of Life--Visits the Empress of Austria-- - Is Imprisoned at Vienna--Addresses Memoir to the King-- - Confers with the Ministers upon the Recall of the - Parliaments. - - -“If at the end of a cultivated education and a laborious youth, my parents -could have left me an entire liberty as to the choice of a vocation, my -invincible curiosity, my dominant taste for the study of mankind and its -great interests, my insatiable desire to learn new things, and to form new -combinations, would have led me to throw myself into politics.” So -Beaumarchais had written in 1764, at a time when his intimacy with the -diplomatic circle of the court of Madrid had opened up a vista of possible -future usefulness in the world of politics and of vast business -enterprises, connected with matters of national importance. When his hopes -in both these directions had been blighted, we have seen him returning -home, bent only upon giving up his appointments at court and retiring with -Pauline to the West Indies, there to lead the life of a planter. This -dream having likewise dissolved, his next thought was to find consolation -in literature. Happy at last in his second marriage, prosperous and rich, -his ambition limited itself for a time to the following of a literary -career. Suddenly robbed of all these blessings by the untimely death of -his wife and infant son, attacked by powerful enemies, forced to defend -his honor and his life, we have followed him to where he now stands, a -civilly degraded man, powerless in the grasp of overwhelmingly adverse -circumstances. - -As we already have seen in this narrative, Beaumarchais was no stranger to -adversity, whose only effect upon his character seems to have been to -rouse him to ever greater and greater efforts to overcome the obstacles -that would have seemed to another insurmountable. So in this case we find -him turning at once the whole force of his being to outside conditions in -order to discover what still remains to be done. - -The path which opened before him was one that could have presented itself -only under such conditions of abuse of authority and of misrule as -characterized the declining years of Louis XV, a condition which allowed -justice to be given over into the hands of the infamous parliament of -which it has just been question, and which tolerated by the side of the -King of France a woman, Madame du Barry, who had begun her career as a -girl of the streets. - -In the occult diplomacy of the court of Louis XV there was need enough for -secret agents, and it was in this capacity that we find our civilly -degraded man entering upon that new phase of his career which was so soon -to place him where he could take a hand in directing the destinies of -nations. - -In speaking of this, M. de Loménie has said, “The history of the secret -missions of Beaumarchais is instructive if we would attempt to understand -absolute governments. The weak side of liberal governments, and the -consequences of the abuse sometimes made of liberty, have of late years -been sufficiently exposed for it to be interesting to see what went on -behind the scenes of absolute power.... and to note by what complicated -ways an unjustly condemned man was obliged to pass to obtain his -rehabilitation, and how in revenge, this same man, stricken with civil -death by a tribunal, was able to become the confidential agent of two -kings and their ministers, and little by little make himself so useful -that he reconquered his civil state and obtained control of a great -transaction, one worthy of himself and of his intelligence.” This -transaction was of course no other than his intervention in the cause of -American Independence. - -But now in regard to his secret mission, it will be remembered that after -the parliament had pronounced its crushing sentence, silence had been -imposed upon him by the authority of the King. Strange as it may seem, -Louis XV was not unfriendly to the petulant man who had so warmly defended -himself. He had followed the suit with interest, had read the memoirs, and -even amused himself at the expense of the magistracy, which he had himself -established in defiance of the whole nation. The indolence and levity of -the King’s character showed themselves clearly in this attitude. So long -as things lasted _tant que lui_ he was satisfied to amuse himself in any -way that offered, regardless of the future. One day he said to La Borde -(first _valet de chambre_ of the King and friend of Beaumarchais), “They -say that your friend has a superior talent for negotiation; if he could be -successfully and secretly employed in an affair which interests me, his -own affairs would be the better for it.” The matter which weighed upon -the old king, the settlement of which was to be the price of the -rehabilitation of Beaumarchais, was one that had been troubling him for -more than a year. - -There was at this time, established in London, a certain French -adventurer, Theveneau de Morande, who, says Loménie, “had taken refuge in -England, where, speculating upon scandal, he composed coarse libels which -he clandestinely introduced into France, and in which he defamed, outraged -and calumniated without distinction, every name, more or less known, which -presented itself under his pen. He had published amongst other works, -under the impudent title of _le Gazetier cuirassé_, a collection of -atrocities, perfectly in accord with the impudence of the title. Profiting -from the terror he inspired, he sent from time to time across the Channel, -demands for money, from those who feared his attacks.... For a -manufacturer of this kind, Madame du Barry was a mine of gold; so he wrote -to that lady announcing the near publication (except in case of a handsome -ransom) of an interesting work of which her life was the subject, under -the alluring title of _Mémoires secrets d’une femme publique_. Anyone else -but Madame du Barry might have disdained the insults of the pamphleteer, -or have brought him to justice before the English tribunals; it can easily -be understood that Madame du Barry could take neither of these -alternatives. Alarmed and furious, she communicated her anger and her -fears to Louis XV.” - -The King began by demanding George III to give up the adventurer. The -English Government had no desire to harbor such a character and replied -that if the French King did not wish to pursue legally the pamphleteer, he -might arrest him, but only on condition that it was done with absolute -secrecy and without arousing the susceptibilities of the English populace. -Louis XV then set about preparing for his capture. - -Theveneau de Morande was on the alert, and having been warned, he -forestalled the King by posing publicly as a persecuted political refugee, -placing himself under the protection of the London public. He had not -misjudged the temper of the people amongst whom he had sought refuge. -Furious at the thought of such a desecration of English law, a band of -supporters of Morande lay in wait, so that the secret agents on arriving -in London were known and followed. They were on the point of being seized -and thrown into the Thames when they learned of their betrayal, and so -were obliged to hurry with all possible speed back to France, with their -object unaccomplished. - -Gloating over his triumph, the unprincipled adventurer hastened on his -publication, becoming daily more insolent in his demands. Louis XV sent -numerous agents across the channel to attempt to treat with him, but all -to no purpose, for the wily Morande, posing now before the public as a -defender of public morality, retained the protection of the people and -thus escaped the agents in question. Things were at this pass when the -thought occurred to the King of employing the talents of Beaumarchais in -terminating this difficult negotiation. - -The sentence of the Parliament Maupeou, it will be remembered, had been -rendered the 26th of February, 1774; early in March the civilly degraded -man started for London, and as his own name was too widely known through -his memoirs to admit of secrecy, he assumed that of Ronac, anagram of -Caron. The firmness, tact, and above all the persuasiveness of his -character, enabled him in a few days completely to gain the confidence of -Morande, so that he reappeared almost immediately at Versailles to the -unbounded astonishment of the King, bringing a specimen of the libel, and -prepared to receive final orders for the termination of the affair. The -King sent him back to London in quality of his confidential agent to see -that the entire scandalous publication was destroyed by fire, and the -future silence of Morande secured. Both objects were speedily -accomplished. - -Immediately following the destruction of the Memoirs of Mme. du Barry, -Beaumarchais wrote to Morande, “You have done your best, Monsieur, to -prove to me that you return in good faith to the sentiments and the -conduct of an honest Frenchman, from which your heart reproached you long -before I did, of having deviated; it is in persuading myself that you have -the design of persisting in these praiseworthy resolutions, that I take -pleasure in corresponding with you. What difference in our two destinies! -It happened to fall into my way to arrest the publication of a scandalous -libel; I work night and day for six weeks; I travel nearly two thousand -miles. I spend 500 louis to prevent innumerable evils. You gain at this -work, 100,000 francs and your tranquillity, while as for me, I do not even -know that my traveling expenses will be repaid.” - -When Beaumarchais arrived in Paris he hastened to Versailles to receive -the reward of his activity. He found the old King attacked by a fatal -disease, and in a few days he was no more. “I admire,” he wrote the same -day, “the strangeness of the fate which follows me. If the King had lived -in health eight days longer, I would have been reinstated in the rights -which iniquity has taken from me, I had his royal word.” - -A few days later he wrote to Morande, “Restored to my family and friends, -my affairs are quite as little advanced as before my voyage to England, -through the unexpected death of the King. I seize the first instant of -repose to write to you and to compliment you, Monsieur, very sincerely -upon your actual condition. Each one of us has done his best; I to tear -you from the certain misfortune which menaced you and your friends, and -you to prove a return with good faith to the sentiments and conduct of a -true Frenchman.... There only remains to me for total recompense the -satisfaction of having fulfilled my duty as an honest man and a good -citizen.... What consoles me is that the time of intrigue and cabal is -over. Restored to my legal defense the new King will not impose silence on -my legitimate reclamations; I shall obtain, _by force of right_, and _by -title of justice_ that which the late King was only willing to accord me -as a favor.” (Quoted from Lintilhac, _Beaumarchais et ses oeuvres_, p. -62.) - -Here as elsewhere, true to the instincts of his nature, he accepted the -inevitable, while looking about him to see what remained to be done. -Realizing that the service accomplished for Louis XV could have small -interest for the virtuous young monarch just ascending the throne, he had -no thought for the moment of pressing for his rehabilitation, but -preferred to wait until some opportunity offered for making himself -useful, and if possible necessary, to the young King. - -In November of the same year, he had the satisfaction of seeing the -parliament abolished which had degraded him. More than this, his opinion -was sought as to the best means to be employed in the re-establishment of -the ancient magistracy. Gudin, in his life of Beaumarchais says, “The -ministers were divided in opinion as to the best means to employ in -recalling the parliaments; they consulted Beaumarchais, and demanded of -him a short, elementary memoir, where his principles should be exposed in -a way proper to instruct every clear mind.... He obeyed and gave them -under the title of--_Idées élementaires sur le rappel du parlement_--a -memoir, which contains the most just ideas, the purest principles upon -the establishment of that body, and the limitations of its powers....” The -Ministers, however, did not dare to follow the simplicity of the -principles he laid down. After much discussion the parliaments were -recalled, and though the liberties of the people received but slight -attention, “Everyone was too flattered by the return of the ancient -magistracy, to think of the future.” - -In the midst of his correspondence with the ministers over this matter of -public import, Beaumarchais did not forget his own private interests. He -wrote to M. de Sartine, “I have cut out the fangs of three monsters in -destroying two libels, and stopping the impression of a third, and in -return I have been deceived, robbed, imprisoned, my health is destroyed; -but what is that if the King is satisfied? Let him say ‘I am content,’ and -I shall be completely so, other recompense I do not wish. The King is -already too much surrounded by greedy askers. Let him know that in a -corner of Paris he has one disinterested servitor--that is all I ask. - -“I hope that you do not wish me to remain _blâmé_ by that vile Parliament -which you have just buried under the debris of its dishonor. All Europe -has avenged me of its odious and absurd judgment, but that is not enough. -There must be a decree to destroy the one pronounced by it. I shall not -cease to work for this end, but with the moderation of a man who fears -neither intrigue nor injustice. I expect your good offices for this -important object. - - “Your devoted - Beaumarchais.” - -Gudin, after quoting this letter, adds “According to the immemorial custom -of all courts, they were much more eager to make use of the zeal of a -servitor than to render him justice. Nevertheless they repealed the -prohibition to play his _Barbier de Séville_.” - -This was near the end of 1774. Already Beaumarchais again had been -appealed to, to suppress another scandalous publication, the appearance of -which was announced immediately after the accession of Louis XVI to the -throne of France. It had for title, _Avis à la branche espagnole sur ses -droits à la couronne de France, à défaut d’héritiers_ (Advice to the -Spanish branch, upon its claims to the crown of France in default of -heirs.) Although in appearance political, it was in reality a libel -directed against the young queen Marie Antoinette. In a memoir addressed -to the King after the suppression of the publication, Beaumarchais -accounts for its appearance in the following manner, he says, “As soon as -your Majesty had mounted the throne, several changes made, several -courtiers disgraced, having caused strong resentments to germinate, -suddenly there appeared in England and Holland a new libel against you, -Sire, and against the Queen. I went with all haste, and an express order -of your Majesty augmenting my courage, I followed up the book and the -editor to the point of extinction.” - -[Illustration: Louis XVI] - -[Illustration: Marie Antoinette] - -“All that was known of this pamphlet,” says Loménie, “was that its -publication was confided to an Italian named Guillaume Angelucci, who in -England went under the name of William Atkinson, and who used a host of -precautions to insure his incognito. He had at his disposition enough -money to enable him to produce two editions at the same time, one in -England and the other in Holland. In order to ensure success to his -enterprise and still more no doubt, to heighten the importance of the rôle -he was about to play, Beaumarchais in accepting this second undesirable -mission had demanded a written order from the King, bearing the royal -signature. This had been refused. Beaumarchais started for London without -delay, but had by no means given up the idea of obtaining the written -order which seemed to him so important.” - -“I have seen the Lord Rochford,” he wrote to M. de Sartine, “and found him -as affectionate as usual, but when I explained to him this affair, he -remained cold as ice. I turned and returned it in every way, I invoked our -friendship, reclaimed his confidence, warmed his _amour-propre_ by the -hope of being agreeable to our King, but I could judge from the nature of -his replies that he regarded my commission as an affair of police, of -espionage, in a word of _sous-ordre...._ - -“You should do the impossible to bring the King to send me an order or -mission signed by him, in about the terms which I have indicated at the -end of this letter. This need is as delicate, as it is essential for you -to-day. So many agents have been sent to London in relation to the last -libel, they were often of so questionable a character, that anyone who -seems to belong to the same order, cannot expect to be looked upon except -with contempt. This is the basis of your argument with the King. Tell him -of my visit to the Lord. It is certain that one cannot decently expect -that minister, however friendly he may be, to lend himself to the service -of my master, if that master puts no difference between the delicate and -secret mission with which he honors an honest man, and an order with which -a police officer is charged.” - -M. de Sartine seemed to have been convinced, at all events he succeeded in -inducing the young king to copy with docility the model which Beaumarchais -had drawn up, and which ran as follows: - -“The sieur de Beaumarchais, charged by my secret orders, will start for -his destination as soon as possible; the discretion and vivacity which he -will put into their execution will be the most agreeable proofs which he -can give me of his zeal for my service. - - “Louis. - Marly, July 10, 1774.” - -Beaumarchais, exultant, wrote at once to the minister, “The order of my -master is still virgin, that is to say, it has been seen by no one; but if -it has not yet served me in relation to others, it has none the less been -of a marvelous help to myself, in multiplying my powers and redoubling my -courage.” - -He even went so far as to address the King personally. He wrote, “A lover -wears about his neck the portrait of his mistress; a miser, his keys; a -devotee, his reliquary--while as for me, I have had made a flat oval case -of gold, in which I have enclosed the order of your Majesty, and which I -have suspended about my neck with a chain of gold, as the thing the most -necessary for my work, and the most precious for myself.” - -Satisfied at last in his ambition to have in his possession a written -order from the King, Beaumarchais set about arranging with redoubled zeal -for the suppression of the publication mentioned before. “He succeeded,” -says Loménie, “through great supply of eloquence, but also through great -supply of money. For 1,400 pounds sterling, the Jew renounced the -speculation. The manuscript and four thousand copies were burned in -London. The two contractors then betook themselves to Amsterdam for the -purpose of destroying the Holland edition. Beaumarchais secured the -written engagement of Angelucci, and then free from care, he gave himself -up to the pleasure of visiting Amsterdam _en tourist_.” - -Up to this point the authority of M. de Loménie seems to hold good upon -this mission of Beaumarchais, which of late years has given rise to much -bitter controversy. “This obscure affair Angelucci--Atkinson,” says -Lintilhac, “has caused as much ink to flow in the last twenty years, as -the chefs-d’oeuvre of our author.” - -We shall not attempt here to enter into the intricacies of this case, and -shall scarcely blame our hero, even supposing we should find him playing a -bit of comedy, very much _à la Figaro_, upon the stage of real life; for -it is necessary to recall the fact that under the cloak of philosophic -acceptance of his fate, Beaumarchais was all the while, at heart, a -desperate man. The death of the old King at the moment when he had every -reason to expect a speedy restitution to his rights as citizen, had been a -cruel blow which left him in a state of inward desperation. When we -consider the intense mental excitement in which he had been living from -the day of his frightful adventure with the duc de Chaulnes, his -imprisonment, the loss of his property, the dissolution of his family, the -execration of his enemies, the adulation of a nation; when we consider all -this and the events immediately following, our wonder is, not that -Beaumarchais lost for a time his sense of proportion and the true relation -of things, but rather that he had not been a thousand times over, crushed -and broken by the overwhelming combination of circumstances against which -he had struggled. - -There is no doubt that now, at the moment of the termination of his -mission, his one idea was to exaggerate to the utmost the apparent value -of what he had accomplished, so that it would seem worth the price which -he desired for it, in the eyes of the young master whom he served. It was -no favor that he wanted; he desired nothing but to be allowed to work, but -his rehabilitation he must have at whatever cost. He knew only too well -that to the young King it was, after all, a matter of supreme -indifference whether or not he, Beaumarchais, regained his civil rights. -The affair of the libel even, had scarcely penetrated his consciousness; -that was a matter for the ministers to attend to. Beaumarchais felt, -therefore, that something must be done to force himself upon the attention -of the royal pair, both so young and so unconscious, not to say heedless, -of the duties of their station; the young Queen thinking of nothing but -the amusement of the hour, the King asking only to be relieved from the -responsibilities of state and of individual action. How was Beaumarchais -then to arouse in them sufficient interest to cause them to give a -moment’s attention to his wrongs? The spirit of adventure which always -animated him, his taste for intrigue, his talent of _mis en scène_, all -combined to aid him in what he undertook. He decided before he returned to -France, to present himself therefore before the Empress of Austria, sure -that by his talents, his address, and show of fervent zeal in the interest -of his Queen, he would win the tender heart of that tenderest of mothers. -To give a show of reason to his appearance before the Empress, and to -enhance the interest he might arouse, he imagined a wild and romantic -story, the heroic part of which he was himself to have acted. On his way -down the Danube, he wrote a detailed account of this supposed happening, -sending several copies to friends--among others to Gudin, who were asked -to inform his extended circle of acquaintances, of this rare new adventure -which had befallen him. It may be stated briefly as follows: After having -destroyed the libel in London and Amsterdam, and relieved from all further -responsibility, he supposed himself suddenly to have discovered that the -wily Angelucci had retained a copy of the libel, and that he had gone on -to Nuremberg with the intention of there issuing another publication. -Furious at this breach of faith, Beaumarchais hurriedly followed after, -stopping neither night nor day. He overtook Angelucci in the forest of -Neustadt, not far from Nuremberg. The rattling of the chaise attracted the -attention of the Jew, who, turning round, recognized his pursuer, and -being on horseback, dashed into the forest, hoping thereby to make good -his escape. Beaumarchais, however, springing from the chaise, followed -after on foot. The density of the forest enabled him to overtake -Angelucci, whom he dragged from his horse. In the depths of his traveling -sack, the infamous libel was discovered. Then he let Angelucci go. As -Beaumarchais was returning to the highway, he was fallen upon by two -robbers who attacked him savagely and from whom he defended himself with -bravery. He was delivered from them by their taking fright at the noise of -the postilion, who, uneasy at the long delay, had come to see what had -happened to the traveler. The latter was found, with face and hands badly -wounded. He passed the night in Nuremberg, and next morning, without -waiting to have his wounds dressed, he hastened on to Vienna. - -So much for the romance--what follows is authentic history. - -In a _procès-verbal_, under date of September 7, 1774, held by the -Burgomaster of Nuremberg, under order of Marie Thérèse, Empress of -Austria, the bourgeois Conrad Gruber, keeping the inn of the Coq Rouge at -Nuremberg, explained how M. de Ronac arrived at his inn, wounded in the -face and hands, the evening of August 14th, after a scene in the woods, -and he added “that it was remarked that M. de Ronac seemed to be very -uneasy, that he had risen very early in the morning, and wandered all over -the house, in such a way that from this and his general manner, it -appeared that his wits were a little disordered.” - -As we said, Beaumarchais immediately hastened on to Vienna. Once arrived -in the capital, the question was, how to penetrate to the august presence -of the Empress. Absolutely without recommendation of any sort, traveling -as an inconspicuous M. de Ronac--anyone but Beaumarchais would have -renounced so wild and impossible a project from the beginning. In a very -lengthy memoir addressed to Louis XVI by Beaumarchais after his return to -France, the latter gives a minute account of this most singular adventure. -The following extracts will enable us to follow him: - -“My first care at Vienna was to write a letter to the Empress. The fear -that the letter might be seen by other eyes prevented me from explaining -the motive of the audience which I solicited. I attempted simply to excite -her curiosity. Having no possible access to her, I went to her secretary, -M. le baron de Neny, who, on my refusing to tell him what I desired, and -judging from my slashed face, took me for a wild adventurer.... He -received me as badly as was possible, refused to take charge of my letter, -and would have entirely rejected my advances had I not assumed a tone as -proud as his own, and assured him that I made him responsible to the -Empress for all the evil which his refusal might make to an operation of -the greatest importance, if he did not instantly take my letter and give -it to the sovereign. More astonished by my tone than he had been by my -face, he took my letter unwillingly, and said that for all that, I need -not hope that the Empress would see me. ‘It is not this, Monsieur, that -need disquiet you. If the Empress refuses me an audience, you and I will -have done our duty....’ - -“The next day I was conducted to Schoenbrunn, and into the presence of Her -Majesty.... I first presented to the Empress the order of your Majesty, -Sire, of which she perfectly recognized the writing.... She then -permitted me to speak.... ‘Madame,’ I said, ‘it is here less a matter of -state interest, properly speaking, than the efforts which black intrigues -are making in France to destroy the happiness of the King.’ Here I recited -the details of my negotiation, and the incidents of my voyage to Vienna. - -“At every circumstance, the Empress, joining her hands in surprise, -repeated, ‘But, Monsieur, where have you found so ardent a zeal for the -interests of my son-in-law, and above all, of my daughter?’ - -“‘Madame, I was the most unfortunate man of France during the last reign; -the queen in that terrible time did not disdain to show an interest in my -fate. In serving her to-day, I am only acquitting an immense debt; the -more difficult the enterprise, the more my ardor is inflamed....’ - -“‘But, Monsieur, what necessity had you to change your name?’ - -“‘Madame, I am unfortunately too well known in Europe under my own name to -permit me to employ it while undertaking so delicate and important a -mission as the one in which I am engaged.’ - -“The Empress seemed to have a great curiosity to read the work whose -destruction had caused me so much trouble. The reading immediately -followed our explanation. Her Majesty had the goodness to enter with me -into the most intimate details of this subject; she had also that of -listening a great deal to what I had to say. I remained with her more than -three hours and a half, and I implored her not to waste a moment in -sending to Nuremberg and securing the person of Angelucci.... - -“The Empress had the goodness to thank me for the ardent zeal which I had -shown; she begged me to leave the pamphlet with her until the next day. -‘Go and repose yourself,’ she said, with infinite grace, ‘and see that -you are promptly bled....’” - -Whatever pleasing effect the ardor and enthusiasm of Beaumarchais may have -produced upon Marie Thérèse, it was soon dispelled by the Chancellor -Kaunitz, to whom she at once showed the libel, and related the adventure -as she had heard it from Beaumarchais. Kaunitz not only pronounced the -whole story an invention, but at once suspected that Beaumarchais himself -was the author of the libel, and that the Jew Angelucci was a fabrication -of his own brain. At the Chancellor’s instigation, Beaumarchais was at -once arrested and kept in custody until the matter could be cleared up. To -continue the narrative as given by Beaumarchais in his report to the King: - -“I returned to Vienna, my head still hot with the excitement of that -conference. I threw upon paper a host of observations which seemed to me -very important relative to the subject in question; I addressed them to -the Empress.... The same day at nine o’clock I saw enter my room, eight -grenadiers, bayonets and guns, two officers with naked swords, and a -secretary of the regency bringing me word which invited me to allow myself -to be arrested, reserving all explanations. ‘No resistance,’ said the -officer to me. - -“‘Monsieur,’ I replied coldly, ‘I sometimes have resisted robbers, but -never Empresses.’ I was made to put all my papers under seal. I demanded -permission to write to the Empress, and was refused. All my effects were -taken from me, knives, scissors, even to my buckles, and a numerous guard -was left in my room, where it remained _thirty-one days_ or _forty-five -thousand, six hundred_ and _forty minutes_; because, while the hours fly -so rapidly for happy people that they scarcely note their succession, -those who are unfortunate count time by minutes and seconds, and find it -flows slowly when each one is noted separately.... - -“One may judge of my surprise, of my fury! The next day the person who -arrested me came to tranquilize me. ‘Monsieur,’ I replied, ‘there is no -repose for me until I have written to the Empress. What happened to me is -inconceivable. Give me paper and pens or prepare to chain me, for here is -surely enough to drive one mad.’ - -“At last permission was given me to write; M. de Sartine has all my -letters; read them, and the nature of my sorrows will be seen.... I wrote, -I supplicated--no reply. ‘If I am a scoundrel, send me back to France, let -me there be tried and judged....’ - -“When, on the thirty-first day of my detention, I was set at liberty, they -told me that I might return to France or remain in Vienna, as I wished. -And if I should die on the way, I would not have remained another quarter -of an hour in Vienna. A thousand ducats were presented to me which I -firmly refused. ‘You have no money, all your belongings are in France.’ - -“‘I will give my note and borrow what is absolutely necessary for my -journey.’ - -“‘Monsieur, an Empress does not make loans.’ - -“‘And _I_ accept no favors but from my master; he is sufficiently great to -recompense me if I have served him well.’ - -“‘Monsieur, the Empress will think that you are taking a great liberty to -refuse her favors.’ - -“‘Monsieur, the only liberty which cannot be taken from a very respectful -but cruelly outraged man is the liberty to refuse favors. For the rest, my -master will decide whether I am right or wrong in this conduct, but as to -my decision--it remains as I have said.’ - -“The same evening I left Vienna, and traveling day and night, I arrived -the ninth day, hoping at last for an explanation. All that M. de Sartine -has been willing to say to me is: ‘_Que voulez-vous?_ The Empress took you -for an adventurer....’ - -“Sire, be so good as not to disapprove of my refusal to accept the money -of the Empress, and permit me to return it to Vienna. I should, however, -be willing to accept an honorable word, or her portrait, or any similar -token which I could oppose to the reproach which is everywhere made me of -having been arrested in Vienna as a suspicious character.... I await the -orders of your Majesty. - - “Caron de Beaumarchais.” - -The money was subsequently returned, and in its place a valuable diamond -ring was sent by the Empress. This ring shone on its possessor’s finger, -from henceforth, on all occasions of ceremony. As for the suspicions of -Kaunitz, which have been shared by many, we can do no more than refer the -reader to the special literature on this subject. The story of the -brigands is unquestionably an invention, as for proofs of forgery, or real -guilt of any kind,--after the most exhaustive investigations, none has -ever been found. - -In his edition of the History of Beaumarchais, by Gudin, 1888, Maurice -Tourneux in a lengthy note points out the fallacies in the story of this -adventure as told by Gudin. After speaking of the most recent accusations -against Beaumarchais, he says, “But it must be admitted, this is to -venture upon a series of very serious as well as practically gratuitous -accusations.” - -Lintilhac does not hesitate to assert that Angelucci did exist, and that -not a line of the libel is from the pen of Beaumarchais. As this is the -most recent study of the subject which has appeared, it attempts to answer -all the arguments set forth by the adversaries of Beaumarchais, and -through before unpublished documents, to prove the fallacy of all their -conjectures. (See _Beaumarchais et ses oeuvres_, by E. Lintilhac, Paris, -1889.) - -What is, however, of vital importance for the life of Beaumarchais, and -above all for the very important rôle which he is about to play in the War -of American Independence, is that the adventure just related did not in -the least bring upon him the dislike of Marie Antoinette, who had always -protected him, or of Louis XVI, or his ministers. On the contrary, he had -hardly returned when he found himself summoned to confer with the heads of -the government upon the recall of the parliaments. A greater honor could -scarcely have been paid to the sound judgment of the man who passed for -the wittiest, the most fascinating, in a word the most brilliant man of -his time. While conferring with the ministers upon weighty matters of -state, Beaumarchais took pains at the same time to obliterate as far as -possible from the public mind the impression made by the news of his -imprisonment at Vienna. Immediately on his arrival, he launched forth a -song which he had composed for this purpose, a song which became at once -universally popular, and which renewed the admiration of the people for -its author. - -The song in question begins with the following stanza: - - _“Toujours, toujours, il est toujours le même, - Jamais Robin, - Ne connut le chagrin, - Le temps sombre on serein, - Les jours gras, le carême; - Le matin ou le soir; - Dites blanc, dites noir, - “Toujours, toujours, il est toujours le même.”_ - -In previous chapters, we have spoken already of the intimacy of -Beaumarchais with Lenormant D’Etioles. The latter’s fête happening a few -days after Beaumarchais’s return from Vienna, he suddenly appeared -unannounced in the midst of the gay festival, to the unbounded joy of his -old friends. As the entertainment progressed, Beaumarchais absented -himself for half an hour, returning with a song in dialect, which he had -just composed in honor of his host. A young man present sang it before the -company. Its success was complete, and along with the one previously -mentioned, it soon spread all over Paris. This song contained a verse -which recalled in a very pleasing way, the personal affair which was of -such great importance to the author, and which had served to make him -popular. He was thus kept fresh in the public mind and its sympathetic -interest was conserved. - - _“Mes chers amis, pourriez-vous m’enseigner - J’im bon seigneur don cha’un parle? - Je ne sais pas comment vous l’designer - C’pendent, on dit qu’il a nom Charle ..._ - -... - - _L’hiver passé j’eut un mandit procès - Qui m’donna bien d’la tablature. - J’m’en vais vous l’dire: ils m’avons mis exprès - Sous c’te nouvelle magistrature; - Charlot venait, jarni, - Me consolait, si fit; - Ami, ta cause est bonne et ronde ..._ - -... - - _Est ce qu’on blâme ainsi le pauvre monde?”_ - - - - - CHAPTER XIII - -_Le Barbier De Séville--_ - -_“J’ai donc eu la faiblesse autrefois, Monsieur, de faire des drames qui -n’etaient pas du bon genre; et je m’en repens beaucoup._ - -_“Pressé depuis, par les événements, j’ai hasardé de malheureux mémoires -que mes ennemis n’ont pas trouvés de bon style; j’en ai le remords cruel._ - -_“Aujourd’hui je fais glisser sous vos yeux, une comédie fort gaie, que -certains maîtres de goût n’estiment pas du bon ton; et je ne m’en console -point._ - -... - -_“Je ne voudrais pas jurer qu’il en fut seulement question dans cinq ou -six siècles; tant notre nation est inconstante et légère.”_ - - _Préface du Barbier de Séville._ - - The Character of Figaro--The First Performance of _Le Barbier - de Séville_--Its Success after Failure--Beaumarchais’s - Innovation at the Closing of the Theatre--His First Request - for an Exact Account from the Actors--_Barbier de Séville_ at - the Petit-Trianon. - - -Aside from Beaumarchais’s participation in the affairs of the War of -American Independence, the chief title to glory which his admirers can -claim for him is his creation of the character of Figaro. - -“Certainly no comic personage,” says Gudin, “has more the tone, the -_esprit_, the gaiety, the intelligence, the lightness, that kind of -insouciance and intrepid self-confidence which characterizes the French -people.” - -So long and lovingly had Beaumarchais carried about with him this child of -his _esprit_, that the two at last practically had become one. Gudin says, -“The handsome, the gay, the amiable Figaro, daring and philosophical, -making sport of his masters and not able to get on without them, murmuring -under the yoke and yet bearing it with gaiety” is no other than -Beaumarchais in person. “Welcomed in one city, imprisoned in another, and -everywhere superior to events, praised by these, blamed by those, enduring -evil, making fun of the stupid, braving the wicked, laughing at misery and -shaving all the world, you see me at last in Seville.” - -“Le Comte--‘Who gave thee so gay a philosophy?’ - -“Figaro--‘The habit of misfortune, I hasten to laugh at everything for -fear of being obliged to weep.’ (’_Le Barbier de Séville_,’ Act I, Scene -II) or again-- - -“Le Comte--‘Do you write verses, Figaro?’ - -“Figaro--‘That is precisely my misfortune, your Excellency. When it became -known to the ministers that I sent enigmas to the journals, that madrigals -were afloat of my making, in a word that I had been printed alive, they -took it tragically, and deprived me of my position under the pretext that -the love of letters is incompatible with _l’esprit des affaires_.’” - -When Figaro re-appears a few years later, we shall see all his -characteristics intensified in proportion as the experiences and success -of Beaumarchais had heightened his daring and address. - -We must not make the mistake however of identifying Beaumarchais with his -creation, for to create Figaro required one greater than he. There is -undoubtedly a strongly developed Figaro side to Beaumarchais’s nature and -it is this which always had prevented him from being taken seriously, and -which made him an unfathomable being even to those very persons who -depended upon and profited most by his rare gifts. - -With such limitless resources, such power of combination, such insight, -incapable of taking offense at any injury, so generous, forgiving, -laughing at misfortune, how could he be taken seriously? With -Beaumarchais, as with Figaro, it is the very excess of his qualities and -gifts which alarms. As one of his biographers has said, “What deceives is, -that in seeing Figaro display so much _esprit_, so much daring, we -involuntarily fear that he will abuse his powers in using them for evil; -this fear is really a kind of homage; Figaro in the piece, like -Beaumarchais in the world, gives a handle to calumny but never justifies -it. The one and the other never interfere except for good, and if they -love intrigue it is principally because it gives them occasion to use -their _esprit_.” - -The first conception of Figaro dates very far back in the history of -Beaumarchais. Already before his return from Spain the character was -beginning to take form in his mind. Its first appearance was in a farce -produced at the Château d’Étioles. We have spoken already of its rejection -by the _Comédie des Italiens_, after it had assumed the form of a comic -opera. Made over into a drama, it had soon after been accepted by the -_Théâtre-Français_. - -It will perhaps be remembered that following the frightful adventure with -the duc de Chaulnes, Beaumarchais had spent the evening of that same day -in reading his play to a circle of friends. It had at that time passed the -censor and had been approved. Permission for its presentation had been -signed by M. de Sartine, then lieutenant of police, and it was advertised -for the thirteenth of February of that year, 1773. The affair with the -Duke happened on the 11th, two days before the piece was to be performed. -The difficulties which immediately followed were of a nature to cause the -performance to be postponed indefinitely. - -A year later, however, when the great success of the memoirs of -Beaumarchais had made him so famous, “the comedians,” says Loménie, -“wished to profit by the circumstance. They solicited permission to play -the _Barbier de Séville_.” - -But the police, fearing to find in it satirical allusions to the suit then -in progress, caused a new censorship to be appointed, before permission -could be obtained. Their report was, “The play has been censored with the -greatest rigor but not a single word has been found which applies to the -present situation.” - -The representation was announced for Saturday, the 12th of February, 1774. -Two days before this date, however, came an order from the authorities -which prohibited the presentation. The noise had gone abroad that the -piece had been altered and that it was full of allusions to the suit. -Beaumarchais denied this rumor in a notice which terminates thus: - -“I implore the court to be so good as to order that the manuscript of my -piece, as it was consigned to the police a year ago, and as it was to be -performed, be presented; I submit myself to all the rigor of the -ordinances if in the context, or in the style of the work, anything be -found which has the faintest allusion to the unhappy suit which M. Goëzman -has raised against me and which would be contrary to the profound respect -which I profess for the parliament. - - “Caron de Beaumarchais” - -The prohibition was not removed and the piece was not presented until -after the return of the author from Vienna in December, 1774. - -“He then obtained permission,” says Loménie, “to have his _Barbier_ -played. Between the obtaining of the permission and the presentation he -put himself at his ease; his comedy had been prohibited because of -pretended allusions which did not exist; he compensated himself for this -unjust prohibition by inserting precisely all the allusions which the -authorities feared to find in it and which were not there. He reinforced -it with a great number of satirical generalities, with a host of more or -less audacious puns. He added a good many lengthy passages, increased it -by an act and overcharged it so completely that it fell flat the day of -its first appearance before the public.” - -The defeat was all the more striking because of the fame of the author; -the public curiosity so long kept in abeyance had brought such a crowd to -the first presentation as had never before been equalled in the annals of -the theater. - -“Never,” says Grimm, “had a first presentation attracted so many people.” -The surprise of himself and his friends was extreme, for Beaumarchais -instead of applause received the hisses of the parterre. Anyone else might -have been discouraged, or at least disturbed by so unexpected a turn, not -so Beaumarchais. - -In his own account of the defeat, wittily told in the famous preface to -the Barbier, published three months later, he says, “The god of Cabal is -irritated; I said to the comedians with force, ‘Children, a sacrifice here -is necessary,’ and so giving the devil his part, and tearing my -manuscript, ‘god of the hissers, spitters, coughers, disturbers,’ I cried, -‘thou must have blood, drink my fourth act and may thy fury be appeased.’ -In the instant you should have heard that infernal noise which made the -actors grow pale, and falter, weaken in the distance and die away.” But -Beaumarchais did more than simply renounce an act, he set instantly to -work to rearrange and purify the whole play. - -“Surely it is no common thing,” says Loménie, “to see an author pick up a -piece justly fallen, and within twenty-four hours ... transform it so that -it becomes a charming production, full of life and movement....” - -At its second production, “everyone laughed, and applauded from one end to -the other of the piece; its cause was completely gained.” (Gudin) - -What Beaumarchais did, was to restore the piece to about the form which -had been approved and signed by the censors. - -Some of the best of the satirical portions which are to be found in the -printed play, nevertheless, were inserted before the first presentation, -these he dared to retain in the final form. - -In accounting for its fall, Gudin says, “A superabundance of _esprit_ -produced satiety and fatigued the audience. Beaumarchais then set about -pruning his too luxuriantly branching tree, pulled off the leaves which -hid the flowers--thus allowing one to taste all the charm of its details.” - -As might be expected, the success of the play after its first presentation -produced a storm of opposition; critics and journals vied with each other -to prove to the public that they had again been deceived. Gudin says, “His -facility to hazard everything and receive applause awakened jealousy and -unchained against him cabals of every kind.” - -In the brilliant preface already alluded to, which Beaumarchais published -with the play after its success was established, he allowed himself the -pleasure of mocking, not only at the journalists and critics, but at the -public itself. “You should have seen,” he wrote, “the feeble friends of -the _Barbier_, dispersing themselves, hiding their faces, or disappearing; -the women, always so brave when they protect, burying themselves in hoods, -and lowering their confused eyes; the men running to make honorable amends -for the good they had said of my piece and throwing the pleasure which -they had taken in it upon my execrable manner of reading things. Some -gazing fixedly to the right when they felt me pass to the left, feigned -not to see me, others more courageous, but looking about to assure -themselves that no one saw them, drew me into a corner to ask, ‘Eh? how -did you produce such an illusion? Because you must admit my friend that -you have produced the greatest platitude in the world.’” - -Beaumarchais could afford to indulge in such pleasantries, for his piece -was not only continuing to draw vast crowds, but it had begun already a -triumphant progress over Europe. In St. Petersburg alone it went through -fifty representations. - -But the revenge of Beaumarchais did not stop here; most of the cuttings -which he had been forced to make in the play, the witticisms, jests and -tirades were far too good to be lost. He saved them for future use and -made the public laugh over and applaud what it first hissed. When Figaro -made his second appearance, on the mad day of his marriage, he used them -nearly all. Beaumarchais’s revenge then was complete. But while waiting -for this, he had the audacity to make the comedians themselves mock at -their own playing, as we shall see presently. - -The story of the _Barbier de Séville_ is of the simplest: “Never,” says -Lintilhac, “did any one make a better thing out of nothing.” - -A young nobleman, the count Almaviva, tired of the conquests which -interest, convention, and vanity make so easy, has left Madrid to follow -to Seville a charming, sweet, and fresh young girl Rosine, with whom he -has never been able to exchange a word owing to the constant oversight of -her guardian, the Doctor Bartholo, who is on the point of marrying her and -securing to himself her fortune. In the words of Figaro, the doctor is a -“beautiful, fat, short, young, old man, slightly gray, cunning, sharp, -cloyed, who watches, ferrets, scolds and grumbles all at the same time and -so naturally inspires only aversion in the charming Rosine.” The count, on -the contrary, is a sympathetic figure, who, although disguised as a -student and only seen from afar, has already won the heart of the young -girl. - -Figaro, the gay and resourceful barber to Bartholo has long ago succeeded -in making himself indispensable to the latter and to his whole household, -while at the same time taking advantage of the avarice and cunning of the -doctor and turning them to his own account. It is he who recognizes the -disguise of the student, his old master, the count Almaviva, loitering -under Rosine’s window, and offers his services in outwitting the doctor -whose arrangements are made for the consummation of his marriage on that -self-same day. - -It is no easy matter which he here undertakes, for with all his -resourcefulness, Figaro has to deal with a suspicious old man, subtle and -cunning, who is almost as resourceful as himself. - -The count obtains entrance to the house as a music teacher sent by -Rosine’s usual instructor whom the count announces as ill. - -A most amusing scene ensues when Basile, the true instructor, appears, -unconscious that he has a substitute and where, by the quick wit of the -others, even the old doctor is made to laugh him out of the house, before -the situation is spoiled. Basile goes, utterly mystified by the whole -proceeding, but carrying with him “one of the irresistible arguments with -which the count’s pockets are always filled.” - -The embroglio thickens. Although Bartholo is constantly on his guard and -suspicious of everyone, especially of Figaro, the latter succeeds in -getting the key to Rosine’s lattice from the old man’s possession, almost -under his very eyes, and then shows it to him, but at a moment when -Bartholo is too much taken up with watching the new music teacher to -notice the key, or the gesture of Figaro. - -In the end, it is by the very means which Bartholo has taken to outwit the -others, that the count succeeds in replacing him by the side of Rosine, -and leading her before the notary, who arrives, after he has been sent for -by Doctor Bartholo. The ceremony is concluded, as the doctor arrives on -the scene. The fury of the latter is appeased, however, when he learns -that he may keep the fortune of Rosine, while the count leads her off -triumphant, happy in the “sweet consciousness of being loved for himself.” - -It is to be sure an old, old story, but made into something quite new by -the genius of the author. The situation of Basile in the third act, as -already described, is absolutely without precedent, while numerous other -scenes offer a _comique_ difficult to surpass. - -“The style lends wings to the action,” says Lintilhac, “and is so full and -keen that the prose rings almost like poetry while his phrases have become -proverbs.” - -Perhaps the most remarkable passage of the whole play is that upon -slander, which Beaumarchais puts into the mouth of Basile, - -“Slander, sir! You scarcely know what you are disdaining. I have seen the -best of men almost crushed under it. Believe me, there is no stupid -calumny, no horror, not an absurd story that one cannot fasten upon the -idle people of a great city if one only begins properly, and we have such -clever folks! - -“First comes a slight rumor, skimming the ground like a swallow before the -storm, _pianissimo_, it murmurs and is gone, sowing behind its empoisoned -traits. - -“Some mouth takes it up, and _piano, piano_, it slips adroitly into the -ear. The evil is done, it germinates, it grows, it flourishes, it makes -its way, and _rinforzando_, from mouth to mouth it speeds onward; then -suddenly, no one knows how, you see slander, erecting itself, hiss, swell, -and grow big as you gaze. It darts forward, whirls, envelops, tears up, -drags after it, thunders and becomes a general cry; a public _crescendo_, -a universal chorus of hatred and proscription.” - -The _Barbier de Séville_ had gone through thirteen presentations when the -time arrived for the closing of the theater for the three weeks before -Easter. It was a time-honored custom on this occasion for one of the -actors to come forward after the last performance was over, and deliver a -discourse which was called the _compliment de clôture_. “Beaumarchais,” -says Loménie, “lover of innovation in everything, had the idea of -replacing this ordinarily majestic discourse by a sort of proverb of one -act, which should be played in the costumes of the _Barbier_.” In -explaining the composition of the proverb he says further, “It has not -been sufficient for Beaumarchais to restore to the _Théâtre-Français_ some -of the vivid gaiety of the olden time,--he wished for more, he desired -not only that the people be made to laugh immoderately, but that one -should sing in the theater of _Messieurs les comédiens du roi_.” This was -an enormity and essentially contrary to the dignity of the -_Comédie-Française_. Nevertheless, as Beaumarchais had an obstinate will, -the comedians to please him undertook to sing at the first representation -the airs introduced into the _Barbier_; but whether the actors acquitted -themselves badly at this unaccustomed task, or whether it was that the -public did not like the innovation, all the airs were hissed without pity -and it had been necessary to suppress them in the next presentation. There -was one air in particular to which the author was strongly attached; it -was the air of spring sung by Rosine in the third act. “_Quand dans la -plaine_,” etc. The amiable actress, Mademoiselle Doligny, who had created -the rôle of Rosine, little used to singing in public, and still less to -being hissed, refused absolutely to recommence the experiment and -Beaumarchais had been forced to resign himself to the sacrifice of the -air. - -But as in everything he only sacrificed himself provisionally. - -At the approach of the day of the _clôture_, he proposed to the comedians -to write for them the compliment which it was the custom to give, but on -condition that they sing his famous air which he proposed to bring into -the compliment, that was to be played by all the actors of the _Barbier_. - -As Mademoiselle Doligny still refused to sing the bit in question, -Beaumarchais suppressed the _rôle_ of Rosine, and replaced it by the -introduction of another actress more daring, who sang very agreeably, -namely, Mademoiselle Luzzi. - -This amusing proverb in the style of the _Barbier_ had a great success and -the delicious little spring song as sung by Mademoiselle Luzzi received -at last its just applause. In the scene in which it was produced the -daring author has dialogued thus: - - Scene III - -Mlle. Luzzi--“Very well, gentlemen, isn’t the compliment given yet?” - -Figaro--“It’s worse than that, it isn’t made.” - -Mlle. Luzzi--“The compliment?” - -Bartholo--“A miserable author had promised me one, but at the instant of -pronouncing it, he sent us word to serve ourselves elsewhere.” - -Mlle. Luzzi--“I am in the secret, he is annoyed that you suppressed in his -piece his air of spring.” - -Bartholo--“What air of spring? What piece?” - -Mlle. Luzzi--“The little air of Rosine in the _Barbier de Séville_.” - -Bartholo--“That was well done, the public does not want any one to sing at -the _Comédie-Française_.” - -Mlle. Luzzi--“Yes, Doctor, in tragedies; but when did it wish that a gay -subject should be deprived of what might increase its agreeableness? -Believe me, gentlemen, Monsieur _le Public_ likes anything which amuses -him.” - -Bartholo--“More than that is it our fault if Rosine lost courage?” - -Mlle. Luzzi--“Is it pretty, the song?” - -Le Comte--“Will you try it?” - -Figaro--“In a corner under your breath.” - -Mlle. Luzzi--“But I am like Rosine, I shall tremble.” - -Le Comte--“We will judge if the air might have given pleasure.” - -Mlle. Luzzi sings. - - _“Quand dans la plaine - L’amour ramène - Le printemps - Si chéri des amants, - Tout reprend l’être - Son feu pénètre - Dans les fleurs - Et dans les jeunes coeurs. - On voit les troupeaux - Sortir des hameaux; - Dans tous les coteaux - Les cris des agneaux - Retentissent; - Ils bondissent; - Tout fermente, - Tout augmente; - Les brebis paissent - Les fleurs qui naissent; - Les chiens fidèles - Veillent sur elles; - Mais Lindor enflammé - Ne songe guère - Qu’au bonheur d’être aimé - De sa bergère.”_ - -Le Comte--“Very pretty, on my honor.” - -Figaro--“It is a charming song.” - -Beaumarchais was so far content. He had proved his point and had triumphed -over friends and enemies alike. A far more difficult matter remained, -however, to be settled. It was one that would have frightened a less -intrepid character than that of our author, but obstacles, as we have seen -in many previous instances, only served to strengthen his determination -to conquer, which in this instance, as in most others, he did in the end. - -When Beaumarchais demanded of the _Théâtre-Français_ a statement verified -and signed as to his share of the profits from the representation of the -_Barbier de Séville_, no one knew better than he the magnitude of the -innovation which he was committing. - -The alarmed comedians, who had never in their lives made out an accurate -account and who had not the remotest intention of yielding to the demand, -endeavored by every possible means to put him off. The money that they -sent and the unsigned memoranda which accompanied it, were all promptly -but politely returned with the reiterated statement, most obligingly and -cleverly turned and always in some new form, that it was not the money -which was wanted, but a verified and signed account which could serve as a -model for all future occasions, when it became a matter of business -transaction between authors and comedians. - -For fifteen years he pursued his object with unfaltering perseverance. -Unable to establish a new order of things under the old _régime_, we shall -find him in 1791 presenting a petition in regard to the rights of authors -to the _Assemblée Nationale_. - -But to return to the _Barbier de Séville_, let us anticipate a period of -ten years and accompany Beaumarchais to a representation of this famous -piece played upon another stage than that of the _Théâtre-Français_, and -by actors very different from the comedians of the king. - -It was in 1785. The aristocracy of France, all unconscious of what they -were doing towards the undermining of the colossal structure of which they -formed the parts, were bent upon one thing only and that was amusement. - -From the insupportable _régime_ which etiquette enforced, Marie -Antoinette fled the vast palace of Versailles on every possible occasion, -seeking refuge in her charming and dearly loved retreat, the -_Petit-Trianon_. - -[Illustration: _Le Petit-Trianon_] - -In the semi-seclusion of her palace and its adjoining pleasure grounds, -her rôle of queen was forgotten. It was there that she amused herself with -her ladies of honor, in playing at being shepherdess, or dairy maid. -Whatever ingenuity could devise to heighten the illusion, was there -produced. Innocent and harmless sports one might say, and in itself that -was true, but for a Queen of France! A queen claiming still all the -advantages of her rank, renouncing only what was burdensome and dull! -Innocent she was, of all the crimes that calumnies imputed to her, and of -what crimes did they not try to make her appear guilty; but innocent in -the light of history she was not. More than any other victim perhaps of -the French Revolution, she brought her doom upon herself. The sublimity, -however, with which she expiated to the uttermost those thoughtless -follies of her youth, enables us to pardon her as woman, though as queen, -we must recognize that her fate was inevitable. - -But in 1785, mirth and gaiety still reigned in the precinct of the -_Petit-Trianon_. In August of the year Marie Antoinette who had always -protected Beaumarchais, wishing to do him a signal honor had decided to -produce upon the little stage of her palace theater the _Barbier de -Séville_. - -In his _Fin de l’ancien Régime_, Imbert de Saint-Amand gives the following -narration of that strange incident. - -“Imagine who was to take the part of Rosine, that pretty little mignonne, -sweet, tender, affable, fresh and tempting, with furtive foot, artful -figure, well formed, plump arms, rosy mouth, and hands! and cheeks! and -teeth! and eyes! (_Le Barbier de Séville_, Act II, Scene 2). Yes, this -part of Rosine, this charming child, thus described by Figaro, was to be -played by whom? By the most imposing and majestic of women, the queen of -France and Navarre. - -“The rehearsals began under the direction of one of the best actors of the -_Comédie-Française_, Dazincourt, who previously had obtained a brilliant -success in the _Mariage de Figaro_. It was during the rehearsals that the -first rumor of the terrible affair of the diamond necklace reached the -Queen. Nevertheless she did not weaken.--Four days after the arrest of the -Cardinal de Rohan, grand-almoner of France, Marie Antoinette appeared in -the rôle of Rosine. - -“Beaumarchais was present. The rôle of Figaro was taken by the Comte -d’Artois.... - -“A soirée, certainly the most singular. At the very hour when so many -catastrophes were preparing, was it not curious to hear the brother of -Louis XVI, the Comte d’Artois, cry out in the language of the Andalusian -barber, ‘Faith, Monsieur, who knows whether the world will last three -weeks longer?’ (Act III, Scene 5). He the zealous partisan of the old -_régime_, he the future _émigré_, he the prince who would one day bear the -title of Charles X, it was he who uttered such democratic phrases as -these: ‘I believe myself only too happy to be forgotten, persuaded that a -great lord has done us enough good, when he has done us no harm.’ (Act I, -Scene 2) - -“‘From the virtues required in a domestic, does your Excellency know many -masters who are worthy of being valets?’ (Act I, Scene 2) - -“Was there not something like a prediction in these words of Figaro in the -mouth of the brother of Louis XVI, ‘I hasten to laugh at everything for -fear of being obliged to weep’? (Act I, Scene 2) - -“Ah, let Marie Antoinette pay attention and listen! At this moment when -the affair of the necklace begins, would not one say that all the -maneuvers of her calumniators were announced to her by Basile: ‘Calumny, -Sir....’ Beautiful and unfortunate Queen, on hearing that definition of -the _crescendo_ of calumny would she not turn pale? - -“With this representation of the _Barbier de Séville_, ended the private -theatricals of the _Petit-Trianon_. What was preparing was the drama, not -the fictitious drama, but the drama real, the drama terrible, the drama -where Providence reserved to the unhappy queen the most tragic, the most -touching of all the rôles....” (For the full details of this fatal affair -of the diamond necklace, see _L’ancien Régime_, by Imbert de Saint-Amand.) - -Little did Beaumarchais realize the part he was playing in the preparation -for that great drama. The gay utterances of his Figaro were the utterances -of the mass of the people of France. Through Beaumarchais, the _Tiers -État_ was at last finding a voice and rising to self-consciousness; it was -rising also to a consciousness of the effete condition of all the upper -strata of society. Hence the wild enthusiasm with which these productions -were greeted, an enthusiasm in which the aristocracy themselves joined, -eager as the populace to laugh, for exactly the same reason as Figaro, so -that they might not be obliged to weep. - - - - - CHAPTER XIV - -_“On dit qu’il n’est pas noble aux auteurs de plaider pour le vil intérêt, -eux qui se piquent de prétendre à la gloire. On a raison; la gloire est -attrayante; mais on oublie que, pour en jouir seulement une année, la -nature nous condamne à dîner trois-cents-soixante-cinq fois;... Pourquoi, -le fils d’Apollon, l’amant des Muses, incessammant forcé de compter avec -son boulanger, négligerait-il de compter avec les comédiens?”_ - - _Compte Rendu, par Beaumarchais_ - - Beaumarchais Undertakes to Protect the Rights of Dramatic - Authors--Lawsuit with the Comédie-Française--Founder of the - First Society of Dramatic Authors--Jealousies Among - Themselves Retard Success--National Assembly Grants Decree - 1791--Final Form Given by Napoleon. - - -While Beaumarchais was enjoying the triumph of his _Barbier de Séville_, -his other affairs were by no means neglected. - -Very soon we shall have occasion to accompany him to London on one of the -most singular missions of which it is possible to conceive. But before -entering into a history of the political and financial operations into -which Beaumarchais plunged after his return from Vienna, it is necessary -to speak of the very important matter which the success of the _Barbier_ -emboldened its author to undertake. - -As Beaumarchais possessed to such an extraordinary degree the power, as he -himself has expressed it, _“de fermer le tiroir d’une affaire,”_ and -instantly to turn the whole force of his mind into a totally different -channel, we shall not be surprised to find him at one and the same time -undertaking to protect the rights of dramatic authors against the -comedians of the king; settling for Louis XVI a matter of occult diplomacy -of the old king, Louis XV, which had dragged on for years, and which no -one else had been able to adjust; working with unremitting zeal for his -own rehabilitation as citizen; pursuing the interests of his suit with the -Comte de la Blache, which was still in progress; leading a life in London -and Paris which from the point of view of pleasure left little to be -desired; and all the while engaged in constant and almost superhuman -exertions to stir the French government out of its lethargy in regard to -the insurgent American colonies, and later in sending the latter aid, -under the very eyes of the English, exposed to constant danger of -bankruptcy and ruin. - -Unlike Beaumarchais, we are unable to give our attention to so many things -at the same time, and we are therefore forced to treat each action -separately. - -Beginning then with his action against the comedians, it is necessary to -state that the custom by which that ancient and highly honored institution -the _Théâtre-Français_ regulated its accounts with the author whose plays -were there produced, permitted of so much obscurity that no attempt was -ever made to verify those accounts, so that all the authors practically -were obliged to content themselves with whatever the comedians chose to -give them. - -This condition of affairs had arisen in the following manner. The earliest -theatrical representations, since those given in Greece and Rome, were the -Mysteries, or Miracle Plays, which were written by the monks, who went -about presenting them and who, of course, worked gratuitously. Later, -small sums were offered for plays, but it was not until the time of Louis -XIV that an author received any considerable sum for a literary -production. Even during the reign of this liberal monarch it was the -personal munificence of the king that extended itself to the author, -rather than any rights which he possessed. That this munificence was quite -inadequate is proved by the fact that the “grand Corneille,” whose sublime -genius lifted at one stroke, the literature of France to a height which -few nations have surpassed, was allowed to die in poverty and distress. - -Finally in 1697, a royal decree had been issued, which gave to the authors -of the _Théâtre-Français_ the right to a ninth part of the receipts of -each representation, after the deduction of the costs of the performance -and certain rights, the limits of which were not clearly defined. It was -stipulated also that if for twice in succession the receipts fell below -the cost of performance, from which presentation the author of course -received no returns, the piece, which was then termed, _tombée dans les -règles_, became the property of the comedians. There was nothing said -about any future performance of the piece. The comedians thus had it in -their power to take it up anew, retaining for themselves the entire -proceeds of the performances. - -Innumerable abuses had crept in, so that instead of a ninth, it was well -proved that often the author received less than a twentieth part of the -returns of the play. The position of the comedians was strengthened by the -current opinion that it was degrading to the high art of literature to -bring it down to a financial basis. Profiting by this and abusing their -privileges, the _Comédie-Française_ had gone on confiscating the -productions of authors without serious opposition, although their actions -had given rise in more than one instance to very serious trouble. Such was -the condition of affairs in 1775. - -“The richest of the dramatic authors,” says Loménie, “Beaumarchais, for -whom the theater had never been anything but a form of recreation, and who -had made a present of his first two plays to the comedians, could not be -taxed with cupidity in taking in hand the cause of his brothers of the -pen. This is what determined him. We soon shall see him defending, for the -first time, the rights of others more than his own, and hazarding himself -in a new combat against adversaries more difficult to conquer than those -against whom he had fought already; he will conquer nevertheless, but not -for many years, and only with the aid of the Revolution will he succeed in -getting the better of the kings and queens of the theater, in restraining -the cupidity of the directors, and in establishing the rights of authors, -until this time so unjustly despoiled. - -“To the end of his life he did not cease to demand that the law surround -with its protection a kind of property, no less inviolable than other -forms, but before his fervid pleadings, completely sacrificed. - -“The society of dramatic authors to-day so powerful, so strongly -organized, which rightly, or wrongly is sometimes accused of having -replaced the tyranny of the actors and directors of the theatre by a -tyranny exactly the reverse, do not know perhaps all they owe to the man -who was the first to unite into a solid body the writers who up to that -time had lived entirely isolated.” - -Beaumarchais had long lived on terms of intimacy with the comedians of the -_Théâtre-Français_; that he continued to do so during the years when his -suit against them was in progress, is proved by the following letter from -Mlle. Doligny, written in 1779. - -The letter to which she alludes was in relation to his drama, _Les Deux -Amis_, which he very much desired to have brought a second time before the -public. The piece, it will be remembered, had never succeeded in Paris. -Beaumarchais professed a special fondness for it, however, and desired now -to have it revived. The letter of Mlle. Doligny is as follows: - -“Monsieur: I do not know how to thank you enough for all that you said of -me in the letter which you wrote to the _Comédie_ on the subject of _Les -Deux Amis_. All my comrades were enchanted with the gaiety and _esprit_ -which shone in your letter. I was more enchanted than anyone, because of -your friendship and goodness to me.” Then follows a special request in -regard to two friends, after which she terminates thus: - -“It is your Eugénie, your Pauline, your Rosine, who solicits this; I dare -hope that you will pay some attention to their recommendations. Receive -the testimony of esteem, of attachment and of gratitude with which I am -for life, Monsieur, your, etc. - - Doligny.” - -In 1775, Beaumarchais and the comedians were living on the best of terms -as well may be supposed. Never had the _Comédie_ received such fabulous -returns from any play heretofore produced. Never had actors entered with -more spirit into the views of their author. - -“As many times as you please, Messieurs, to give the _Barbier de Séville_, -I will endure it with resignation. And may you burst with people for I am -the friend of your successes and the lover of my own!--If the public is -contented and if you are, I shall be also. I should like to be able to -say as much for the critics; but though you have done all that is -possible to give the piece to the best advantage and played like angels, -you will have to renounce their support; one cannot please everybody.” - -During the summer the matter of the _Barbier de Séville_ seems to have -dropped, owing no doubt to the fact that Beaumarchais was occupied -completely with his secret mission and with his ardent addresses to the -king in relation to the insurgent colonies. It will be remembered also -that it was in August of this same year that the elder Caron breathed his -last. We have given already the letter written on his death-bed where the -venerable old watchmaker with expiring breath blessed his son who always -had been his pride and honor, as well as his devoted friend. - -And so to return to the case of the _Comédie-Française_. In December, -1775, being for a short time in Paris, Beaumarchais addressed himself to -the comedians, in a letter the tone and matter of which show that his -solicitude as an author had been aroused by a suspicion that they were -trying to make his piece _tomber dans les règles_, and so confiscate it, -by giving it on a day when some special performance at Versailles was -liable to attract thither a large portion of the theater-going public. He -wrote in a spirited way demanding that something be substituted for the -_Barbier_ on that night. The letter terminates thus, “All the good days -except Saturday, the 23rd of December, 1775, you will give me the greatest -pleasure to satisfy with the _Barbier_, the small number of its admirers. -For that day only, it will be easy to admit the validity of my excuses, -recognized by the _Comédie_ itself. I have the honor to be, etc. - - “Caron de Beaumarchais.” - -“In re-reading my letter I reflect that the _Comédie_ may be embarrassed -for Saturday because all the great tragedians are at Versailles. If that -is the reason--Why did you not tell me simply how the matter stood? He who -seems strict and rigorous in discussing his affairs is often the man who -is the easiest in obliging his friends.--I should be distressed if the -_Comédie_ had the smallest occasion to complain of me, as I hope always to -have nothing but praise for it. - - “Reply if you please. - Paris, December 20th 1775.” - -Time passed on. As Beaumarchais had given to the comedians his first two -dramas, hope was entertained that he would demand no return for his -_Barbier_. Early in May, 1776, to their surprise and dismay, came a polite -request that an exact account of the part due him as the author be made -out and given to him. The play then had been given thirty-two times. - -Not wishing to stir up trouble between themselves and their excellent -friend, while at the same time unable and unwilling to grant the request, -the comedians met the difficulty by a profound silence. “At last,” says -Beaumarchais in his _Compte rendu_, written several years later, “one of -them asked me if it was my intention to give the piece to the _Comédie_ or -to require the right of authorship? I replied laughing like Sagnarelle: ‘I -will give it, if I wish to give it, and I will not give it, if I do not -wish to give it; which does not in the least interfere with my receiving -the account; a present has no merit, excepting as he who gives knows its -value.’ - -“One of the actors insisted and said, ‘If you will not give it, Monsieur, -tell us at least how many times you desire that we play it for your -profit, after that it will belong to us.’ - -[Illustration: Charles Philippe--Comte D’Artois] - -“‘What necessity, messieurs, that it should belong to you?’ - -“‘A great many authors make similar arrangements with us.’ - -“‘Those authors are not to be imitated.’ - -“‘They are very well satisfied, monsieur, because if they do not enjoy the -profits of their piece, at least they have the advantage of seeing it -played more often. Do you wish that we play it for your profit six, eight, -or even ten times? Speak.’ - -“The proposition seemed to me so amusing that I replied in the same gay -tone, ‘Since you permit me, I ask you to play it a thousand and one -times.’ - -“‘Monsieur, you are very modest.’ - -“‘Modest, Messieurs, as you are just. What mania is it that you have, to -wish to inherit from people who are not dead? My piece not belonging to -you until it falls to a very low receipt, you ought to desire that it -never belong to you. Are not eight-ninths of a hundred louis, more than -nine-ninths of fifty? I see, Messieurs, that you love your interests -better than you understand them.’ - -“I laughingly saluted the assembly, who smiled a little on their side -because their orator was slightly flushed with argument. - -“At last, on January 3rd, 1777, M. Desessarts, one of the comedians, came -to my house ... bringing me four thousand, five-hundred, and six livres as -belonging to me from my _droits d’auteur_ for the thirty-two performances -of the _Barbier_. No account being joined, I did not accept the money, -although M. Desessarts pressed me to do so in the most polite way in the -world. - -“‘There are a great many points upon which it is impossible for the -_Comédie_ to give MM. the authors anything but _une côte mal taillée_ (in -lump, without detail)’. - -“‘What I require very much more than money,’ I replied, ‘is _une côte bien -taillée_, an exact account, which may serve as a type or model for all -future accounts and may bring at last peace between the actors and the -authors.’ - -“‘I see,’ he said, ‘that you wish to open a quarrel with the _Comédie_.’ - -“‘On the contrary, Monsieur, nothing would please me so much as to be able -to terminate everything to the equal advantage of both parties.’ And he -took back the money.” - -Three days later Beaumarchais sent a polite note explaining why he -returned the money, and clearly stating the nature of the account which he -demanded. Receiving no reply, he wrote again, in the most courteous way, -reminding them of their negligence. - -The _Comédie_ then sent a simple memorandum, “following the usages -observed by us with Messieurs, _les auteurs_,” which was without -signature. - -Beaumarchais at once returned the memorandum, thanking the comedians for -their pains, but begging that the memorandum be verified and signed. - -Receiving no reply, three days later he sent a second missive, in which he -assumed that his first letter had gone astray. “I beg you,” he added, “to -enlighten me as to this matter and send me your account certified. The -messenger has orders to wait.” And he ends thus, “I am ill. I have been -forbidden all serious affairs for several days; I profit by this forced -leisure to occupy myself with this which is not serious at all.” - -For the _Comédie_, however, it was, to say the least, a serious -embarrassment. They replied that it was impossible to verify the account -except for the receipt taken at the door, “the other elements can only be -guessed at.” - -“The letter,” says Beaumarchais, “was garlanded with as many signatures -as the memorandum had not.” - -Assuming that it was their ignorance of affairs that caused the disorder, -he undertook to give, in his own inimitable way, a lesson in bookkeeping. -The letter begins as follows: - -“In reading, Messieurs, the obliging letter with which you have just -honored me, signed by a number among you, I am confirmed in the idea that -you are very honest people, and very much disposed to do justice to -authors; but that it is with you, as with all men who are more versed in -the agreeable arts than in the exact sciences, and who make phantoms of -the embarrassing methods of calculation, which the simplest arithmetician -would solve without difficulty.” - -Then follows the lesson. The letter ends with, “Eh, believe me, Messieurs, -give no more _côtes mal taillées_ to men of letters; too proud to receive -favors, they are often too much in distress to endure losses. - -“So long as you do not adopt the method of an exact account unknown only -to yourselves, you will have the annoyance of being reproached with a -pretended system of usurpation over men of letters which is surely not in -the mind of any one of you. - -“Pardon that I take the liberty of rectifying your ideas, but it is -necessary to come to an understanding; and as you seemed to me in your -letter embarrassed to give an exact form to a simple account, I have -permitted myself to propose to you an easy method, capable of being -understood by the simplest accountant. - -“Two words, Messieurs, enclose the whole of the present question; if the -account which I returned is not just, rectify it. If you believe it to be -exact, certify it; this is the way we must proceed in all matters of -business.” - -“The actors,” says Loménie, “did not relish this lesson in accounts given -with so much complaisance and politeness. They replied that they would -assemble the lawyers forming the council of the _Comédie_ and name four -commissioners from their body to examine the case.” - -“To assemble all the council of lawyers,” says Beaumarchais, “and name -commissioners to consult as to whether an exact account should be sent me, -duly signed, seemed to me a very strange proceeding.” - -The comedians were, however, in no hurry to act. The 14th of February, -1777, they wrote to their troublesome friend. - -“It is still a question of assembling the council. The circumstance of the -carnival joined to the services which we are obliged to perform at court -and in the city have prevented the frequent reunion of different persons -who should occupy themselves in this affair....” - -“I concluded from this letter,” says Beaumarchais, “that the _Comédie_ was -contented with me, but that the carnival seemed a bad time to occupy -themselves with business. Letting the comedians, the lawyers, and their -council dance in peace, I waited patiently until the end of Lent, but -either they were still dancing, or doing penance for having danced, -because I heard nothing from them. - -“Four months rolled by in a profound sleep from which I was awakened June -1st, 1777.” The cause of Beaumarchais’s awakening was the sudden discovery -that urgent requests from time to time to the comedians to play the -_Barbier_ met with constant refusal. - -The 2nd of June he wrote a letter from which we extract the following, “If -patience is a virtue, you have the right, Messieurs, to think me the most -virtuous of men, but if you take the right to forget that you owe me for -two or three years a verified account ... it is I who have the right to -be offended, because there are limits to the patience of even the most -absurd....” - -After a spirited recapitulation of his wrongs he continues, “In a word, -Messieurs, you will give the piece, or you will not give it, it is not -that which is important to-day. What is important is to put an end to so -much indecision. Let us agree that if you accept I shall within eight days -receive from you a certified account ... and when that term has expired, I -may regard a silence on your part as an obstinate refusal to do me -justice. You will not then object if, making a pious use of my rights as -author, I confide the interests of the poor to those persons whose zeal -and interests oblige them to discuss these interests more methodically -than I, who profess to be always, with the greatest love of peace,... -Yours, etc., - - “Beaumarchais.” - -The comedians in their turn awakened by the letter just quoted replied -before the expiration of the eight days, promising the much desired -meeting. Beaumarchais accepted their proposal with his usual grace and -himself fixed the day for the assembly. Fresh difficulties arose. The -comedians wrote an apologetic letter asking for a further delay of a few -days. - -“I thought the comedians very good,” wrote Beaumarchais, “to fear that -after waiting more than a year for their convenience, I should be offended -by a new delay of a few days; I was too used to their manner of proceeding -to lose patience at so small a cost. I resolved, therefore, to await the -moment when it should please the fugitive assembly to meet. I waited until -the 15th of June, when I received a letter from M. le Maréchal de -Duras....” - -“The comedians,” says Loménie “brought to the wall had solicited the -support of the duke, who intervened and begged the claimant to discuss the -matter with him. As Beaumarchais demanded nothing better, he hastened to -offer to the Duke of Duras the same lesson in bookkeeping which he had -vainly offered to the comedians.... Beaumarchais wrote to him: - -“‘You are too much interested, M. le Maréchal, in the progress of the most -beautiful of the arts, not to admit that if those who play the pieces gain -an income of twenty-thousand livres, those who thus make the fortune of -the comedians should be able to draw from it that which is absolutely -necessary. There is no personal interest, M. le Maréchal, in my demand; -the love of justice and of letters alone determines me. The man whom the -impulsion of a great genius might have carried to a renewal of the -beautiful chefs-d’oeuvre of our masters, certain that he cannot live -three months from the fruits of the vigils of three years, after having -lost five in waiting, becomes a journalist, a libellist or debases himself -in some other trade as lucrative as degrading.’” - -M. de Loménie continues, “After a conversation with Beaumarchais, M. de -Duras seemed to enflame himself with ardor for the cause of justice. He -declared that it was time to finish with the debates where authors are at -the discretion of the comedians. He proposed to substitute for the -arbitrary accounts a new regulation where the rights of the two parties -shall be stipulated in the clearest, the most equitable manner. He invited -Beaumarchais to consult with several dramatic authors, and to submit to -him a plan. To this Beaumarchais replied that in a question which -interested all equally, everyone who had written for the Théâtre-Français -had a right to be heard and that all must be assembled.” - -The duke consented and the first society of dramatic authors was founded -by a circular, dated June 27th, 1777, in which Beaumarchais invited all to -a dinner. - -“To unite men,” says Loménie, “who up to that time had been in the habit -of living isolated and jealous lives, was something far from easy, even -when invoking them to a common interest.” - -In order that the reader may judge of the obstacles which this new phase -of his enterprise presented, we subjoin two letters of La Harpe, published -by M. de Loménie, in reply to the invitation of Beaumarchais. - -“If the end,” says Loménie, in speaking of the first of these letters, -“announced a man unwilling enough to treat with his fellows, the beginning -seemed equally to indicate a little annoyance that another than himself -should have been given the lead with the consent of M. de Duras.” - -“M. le Maréchal de Duras,” wrote La Harpe, “has already done me the honor, -Monsieur, of communicating to me, and even in great detail, the new -arrangements which he projects, and which tend, all of them toward the -perfection of the theater, and the satisfaction of authors. I am none the -less disposed to confer with you and with those who like you, Monsieur, -have contributed to enrich the theater, upon our common interests and on -the means of ameliorating and assuring the fate of dramatic authors. It -enters into my plan of life necessitated by pressing occupations never to -dine away from home but I shall have the honor of coming to you after -dinner. I must warn you, however, that if by chance, M. Sauvigny or M. -Dorat are to be present, I will not come. You know the world too well to -bring me face to face with my declared enemies. I have the honor to be -with the most distinguished consideration, Monsieur, etc. - - “De la Harpe.” - -Beaumarchais, a little embarrassed because he had also invited Sauvigny -and Dorat, replied to La Harpe by the following letter: “You have imposed -upon me, Monsieur, the unpleasant task of informing you that MM. Sauvigny -and Dorat do me the honor of dining with me to-day. But in a common cause, -permit me to observe to you that in all countries it is the custom to set -aside private quarrels. - -“I shall be only too happy, if seconding my pacific views, you do me the -honor to come and forget in the pleasure of an assembly of men of letters -all of whom honor you, small resentments which exist perhaps only through -misunderstanding. - -“Do not divide us, Monsieur. We are none too strong with all our forces -united against the great machine of the _Comédie_. We dine at three, and I -shall flatter myself that you are coming even until three-fifteen--so -anxious am I to have you with us. - -“I have the honor to be, etc. - - “Beaumarchais.” - -To which La Harpe replied: - -“It is absolutely impossible, Monsieur, ever to find myself with two men -whose works and whose persons I equally despise; one of them, Dorat, -insulted me personally ... and the other is an unsociable and ferocious -madman whom no one sees, and who is always ready to fight for his verses. -You feel, Monsieur, that this means to fight for nothing. I cannot -conceive how you can class these among _les plus honnêtes gens de la -littérature_. - -“I beg you to accept my excuses, and my sincere regrets. I take very -little account of quarrels where _amour-propre_ alone is concerned, but I -never forget real offenses. - -“I have the honor to be ... etc. - - “La Harpe.” - - -“It was necessary to get on without La Harpe,” says Loménie, “at least for -this first meeting, because I see by another note of his that at the next -meeting, where Beaumarchais no doubt sacrificed to the irascible -academician on that day Dorat and Sauvigny, for he accepted the invitation -for dinner and wrote in a more joyful tone. - -“‘Your invitation leading me to suppose that the obstacles which kept me -away no longer exist, I willingly consent to join you towards five -o’clock. It is not that I renounce the pleasure of finding myself, glass -in hand, with a man as amiable as you, Monsieur, but you are of too good -company not to have supper and I admit that it is my favorite repast; thus -I say with Horace, “_Arcesse vel imperium fer._” - - “‘I have the honor to be--etc. - La Harpe.’” - -On the third of July, 1777, twenty-three dramatic authors found themselves -gathered together around the table of Beaumarchais. If several had -absented themselves from personal jealousies, others had stayed away -through indifference. Collé, _homme spirituel_ and author famous in his -time, replied in a letter flattering to Beaumarchais but refusing all -participation in the work of the society. Absent at that time from Paris, -he wrote, “I avow, Monsieur, with my ordinary frankness that even had I -been in Paris I should not have had the honor of finding myself at your -assembly of MM. the dramatic authors. I am old and disgusted to the point -of nausea with that _troupe royale_. For three years I have seen neither -_comédiens_ nor _comédiennes_. - - _De tous ces gens-là - J’en ai jusque-là._ - -I do not any the less, Monsieur, desire the accomplishment of your -project, but permit me to limit myself to wishing you success, of which I -would very much doubt if you were not at the head of the enterprise, which -has all the difficulties which you can desire because you have proved to -the public, Monsieur, that nothing is impossible to you. I have always -thought that you disliked that which was easy. - - “I have the honor to be, etc. - Collé.” - -A second invitation had no better success. The old poet answers in the -same vein, “M. Collé thanks M. de Beaumarchais for his remembrance. He -begs him anew to be so good as to receive his excuses for the affair of -the comedians. He is too old to bother himself with it. Like the rat in -the fable, he has retired into his Holland cheese and it is not likely -that he will come out to make the world go otherwise than she is going. -For fifteen years he has been saying of the impolite and disobliging -proceedings of the comedians, that verse of Piron in _Callisthène_, ‘From -excess of contempt I have become peaceable. _A force de mépris je me -trouve paisible._’ - -“M. Collé compliments M. de Beaumarchais a thousand and a thousand times.” - -Diderot, the founder of the new school of literature, also refused his -concurrence. - -“_Vous voilà_, Monsieur,” he wrote, “at the head of an insurgence of -dramatic poets against the comedians ... I have participated in none of -these things and it will be possible to participate in none that are to -follow. I pass my life in the country, almost as much a stranger to the -affairs of the city as forgotten of its inhabitants. Permit me to limit -myself to desires for your success. While you are fighting, I will hold -my arms elevated to heaven, upon the mountains of Meudon. May those who -devote themselves to the theater owe to you their independence, but to -speak truly I fear that it will be more difficult to conquer a troup of -comedians than a parliament. Ridicule does not have here the same force. -No matter, your attempt will be none the less just and none the less -honest. I salute and I embrace you. You know the sentiments of esteem with -which I have been for a long time, Monsieur, yours, etc. - - “Diderot.” - -Most of the authors had responded with enthusiasm to the appeal of -Beaumarchais. A few lines from a letter of Chamfort will serve to show the -spirit which animated many of them. - -He says, “One can flatter one’s self that your _esprit_, your activity and -intelligence will find a way to remedy the principal abuses which must -necessarily ruin dramatic literature in France. It will be rendering a -veritable service to the nation and join once more your name to a -remarkable epoch.... I hope, Monsieur, that the _états-généraux de l’art -dramatique_, which to-morrow is to come together at your house, will not -meet with the same destiny as other states-general, that of seeing all our -miseries without being able to remedy any. However it be, I firmly believe -that if you do not succeed, we must renounce all hope of reform. For -myself, I shall have at least gained the advantage of forming a closer -bond with a man of so much merit, whom the hazards of society have not -permitted me to meet as often as I should have desired. - - “I have the honor to be, etc. - Chamfort.” - - -“After the dinner,” says Loménie, “they proceeded to the election of four -commissioners charged to defend the interests of the society, and to work -in its name at the new regulations demanded by the duke of Duras. -Beaumarchais, originator of the enterprise, naturally was chosen first. -Two Academedians, Saurin and Marmontel, were joined to him, and besides -them Sedaine, who, without being yet a member of the Academy, enjoyed a -very justly acquired reputation. - -“This assembly of _insurgents_, to use the term of Diderot, recalled in a -way the group of colonies who just one year before at the same time of the -year, had declared their independence, but it was easier to conquer the -English than the comedians. - -“These latter, learning of the action of the authors, assembled on their -side, called to their aid four or five lawyers, and prepared to make a -vigorous resistance.” - -In very truth the troubles of Beaumarchais were only beginning, nor did -these troubles come from the comedians alone; after the first few meetings -complete discord reigned among the authors themselves, so much so that -anyone but Beaumarchais would have given up in despair. The details of -this disheartening undertaking have been given fully in the _Compte -rendu_, published with the works of Beaumarchais. They have interest for -us only so far as they reveal the character of this many-sided man. - -Overwhelmed with enterprises of every sort, with losses and disasters that -from time to time brought him to the verge of ruin, he still maintained -the cause of men of letters with unfaltering perseverance, and this -notwithstanding the bickerings, the petty jealousies, the ingratitude of -the most interested in the result of the undertaking. Those appointed -joint-commissioners with him left to him all the work. When anything went -wrong all the blame fell back on his shoulders; nevertheless, with his -usual philosophy he forgave and forgot everything but the end which he -kept constantly in view. - -At last, in the spring of 1780, a sort of arrangement was reached which -was indeed an improvement on the regulations of the past, though still far -from satisfactory. - -In honor of the reconciliation, authors and comedians were invited to dine -together at the house of the man who for so long had been trying to bring -peace between them. It was not long before a rumor was afloat that -Beaumarchais had gone over to the side of the comedians. His colleague, -Sedaine, hastened to inform him in a thoughtless fashion of the reproaches -which were being made by some of those for whom he had sacrificed so much -of his repose. The tone of the letter of Sedaine was light and flippant. -Beaumarchais, hurt to the quick, replied in the following words: - - “Paris, this 3rd of May, 1780. - -“I have not at once replied, my dear colleague, to your letter because the -heat which mounted to my head would not have permitted me to do so with -proper moderation. I have passed my entire life in doing my best, to the -sweet murmur of reproaches and outrages from those whom I have served; but -perhaps nothing ever has hurt me so much as this ... Let others do better, -I will congratulate them.... No human consideration can retain me any -longer in the following of this very ungrateful, dramatic literary -association. I salute, honor and love you. - -“I realize in re-reading my scribbling that my head is still hot, but I -recommence in vain. I find myself less master of myself than I could -wish.” - -“Sedaine,” says Loménie, “recognizing that he had been in the wrong, -replied by an affectionate letter which proved that if the author of _Le -Philosophe sans le Savoir_ loved gossip, he was at heart an excellent -man.” - -“Yes, my dear colleague,” he wrote, “your head was still hot when you -replied. Perhaps something in my letter hurt you, because the reproaches -which I had heard uttered had angered me. I cannot, however, believe that -you have taken for my sentiments that which I reported of your ungrateful -and unreasonable _confrères_. Nevertheless, excepting three or four, the -rest do us justice, and it is to you that we pass it on. If I said -anything which pained you, I very sincerely beg your pardon. It is for you -to be moderate, it does you more honor than me, who am older than you. -Continue your beautiful and excellent services; finish your work, and do -them good in spite of their ingratitude. This affair terminated to our -honor by you, I will beg them to assemble at my house and they will order -me to join myself to a deputation to go to thank you for all your pains. -This is all we can offer you now. They will do it, or I shall separate -myself from them for the rest of my life, who have only need of repose and -your friendship. - -“I embrace you with all my heart, and let us leave the evilly disposed for -what they are.” - -The debates, however, were not over, for the next ten years the struggle -continued with Beaumarchais always in the lead. - -“At last,” says Loménie, “the Revolution came to put an end to the old -abusive privileges of the Théâtre-Français, and the usurpation of the -directors of the theaters of the provinces. Following a petition drawn up -by La Harpe, Beaumarchais and Sedaine, representing the society of -dramatic authors and under the influence of numerous memoirs published by -Beaumarchais, the National assembly recognized the right of property of -authors, suppressed all the privileges of the Comédie-Française, and -decreed, on the 13th of January, 1791, that the works of living authors -could not be produced anywhere in France without the consent of the -authors.... To protect these interests was one of the chief occupations of -the old age of Beaumarchais.... To the very end he continued to be the -patron of men of letters; one of his last letters was addressed to the -Minister of the Interior under the Directory, supporting a petition of the -society.” - -It was Napoleon who gave the final form to the regulations existing -between dramatic authors and the Théâtre-Français. The honor, -nevertheless, belonged to Beaumarchais, for it was he who conceived and -carried on for so many years one of the most difficult enterprises ever -undertaken by a private individual. - -Essentially modern in all his views, his was the rôle of preparing the way -for many of the things that the nineteenth century was to produce. Himself -no revolutionist, at least not in theory, it was yet he who played so -important a part in sustaining on one hand and preparing on the other the -two greatest political and social revolutions which the world has ever -seen. - -The establishment of the reign of justice, liberty, and individual rights -was the goal ever before him. - -“_Qu’ étais-je donc_,” he writes near the close of his life, “What have I -been after all? I have been nothing by myself and myself as I have -remained, free in the midst of fetters, serene in the greatest dangers, -braving all the storms, sustaining commerce with one hand and war with the -other, indolent as a mule, but always working, the butt of a thousand -calumnies, but happy in my family, never having been of any coterie, -neither literary, nor political, nor mystic, never having paid court to -anyone, and ever repelled by all.” Somewhere else he adds, “It is the -mystery of my life, in vain I try to comprehend it.” - - - - - STUDIES IN AMERICAN HISTORY - - -BEAUMARCHAIS, AND THE WAR OF AMERICAN INDEPENDENCE. Two volumes. -Illustrated. _By Elizabeth S. Kite._ - -THE POLITICAL HISTORY OF THE PUBLIC LANDS, FROM 1840 TO 1862. FROM -PRE-EMPTION TO HOMESTEAD. _By George M. Stephenson._ - -GEORGIA AS A PROPRIETARY PROVINCE--THE EXECUTION OF A TRUST. _By James -Ross McCain._ - -LINCOLN, THE POLITICIAN. _By T. Aaron Levy._ - -THE AGRICULTURAL PAPERS OF GEORGE WASHINGTON. _Edited by Walter Edwin -Brooke, Ph.B._ - -RICHARD G. BADGER, PUBLISHER, BOSTON - - * * * * * - - - - - Transcriber’s Amendments - - -Transcriber’s Note: Blank pages have been deleted. Footnotes have been -moved. Some illustrations may have been moved. We have rendered consistent -on a per-word-pair basis the hyphenation or spacing of such pairs when -repeated in the same grammatical context. Paragraph formatting has been -made consistent. The publisher’s inadvertent omissions of important -punctuation have been corrected. - -The following list indicates additional changes. The page number -represents that of the original publication and applies in this etext -except for footnotes and illustrations because they have been moved. - - Page Change - - 32 {illustration caption} Palace of Versaille[Versailles] - 74 as in the famous Goezman[Goëzman] trial, - 179 a study of the language and its pronounciation[pronunciation], - 231 begin by an unforseen[unforeseen] attack by a greedy legatee, - - * * * * * - - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Beaumarchais and the War of American -Independence, by Elizabeth S. 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