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, 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 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 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 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 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 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. |