“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.

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.”

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.