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.”