ed with wit, ran over with sarcasm, fun, and | "Louis Quinze (Louis XV.) destroyed the drollery. Not content with assailing Madame old Parliament; quinze louis (fifteen louis) deGoëzman and her husband, he skillfully plant-stroyed the new." ed his battery against the Parliament itself. It For the Parliament and its counselor there was vulnerable enough; its assailant used its un- was no recovery; Beaumarchais throve under popularity as his chief weapon of defense. Hap-crushing. It happened that one Morande, a pily for him his antagonists were outrageous-libeler by trade, had lately hit upon the fortuly violent. Madame Goëzman began her plea nate idea of printing the truth about Madame with an apostrophe to Beaumarchais: "Atro- du Barry, then at the zenith of her fame, and cious man!" and ended it with a row of dots the ruler of royalty. The King's wrath fired (. . . . .); adding, "I dare not call you what you up at slanders upon a person of whom, in truth, are. On such ground a man of infinite wit, it would have been no easy task to write a calnerve, and experience of the world, like Beau- umny. Unfortunately Morande was out of his marchais, was more than a match for a heavy reach-safely ensconced in London. Neither jurisconsult like Goëzman. He crushed him lettres de cachet nor gardes du corps could catch with irony, invective, cutting satire; dissected him there. In this emergency Beaumarchais him, and mangled his corpse for the amusement offered his services. The office was delicate, of the public. The result was, first, that every if not honorable; he obtained permission to test body was talking of the case; next, that every his diplomatic skill. He succeeded. Morande body took Beaumarchais' side. only wanted money. Louis was ready to pay any thing; and so for 20,000 francs down, and a yearly pension (secured on stocks abroad) of 4000 francs, Morande covenanted with Beaumarchais to let his memoirs of the favorite be burnt. The net result of the operation was a respite for Madame du Barry, a complimentary message from the King to Beaumarchais, and a fortune for the shrewd libeler. Beaumarchais had hoped for something more, but a few days after the close of the negotiation Louis XV. died. The echoes of Beaumarchais' flagellation of the Goëzmans were heard all over Europe. Horace Walpole wrote to ask "What has become of this creature and her villainous husband?" Goethe had Beaumarchais' pleadings read aloud at Frankfort. Voltaire at Ferney deplored the disgrace brought on the country by Goëzman; Madame du Barry had the interviews between Madame Goëzman and Beaumarchais performed in proverbs before the King. The people of Paris talked of nothing else; so fascinated were they by Beaumarchais' wit that they could not persuade themselves that he was in the wrong. Grimm observed that people praised the fellow as much as they had hated him a short while ago. All was lost once more. "I reflect with astonishment," says Beaumarchais, in despair, "on the strange fate which pursues me." Happily for him, the race of the Morandes was not extinct. It became known in Paris that a Jew, On the day when the sentence was to be named Angelucci, had in press, in London, an rendered he was to read a new play-none other atrocious libel on the youthful Queen of France, than the "Barber"-at the house of the Prince the wife of Louis XVI. Beaumarchais flew to de Monaco. He could not go, for the judges the minister, and offered his services again. fought all night about the sentence. It was de- He found the Jew, and, as he says, used elolivered early next morning. It deprived Goëz-quence that would have melted the heart of a man of his office, and sentenced Madame Goëz- stone. The Israelite seems to have stood the man and Beaumarchais alike to "blame." So far as we can judge of matters so long past and gone, the sentence was a righteous one, in all but its mildness. It ought to have been more severe. But the popularity of Beaumarchais terrified the Court; and being stanch in their fidelity to their colleague, and having such good grounds against Beaumarchais as his negotiation with Madame Goëzman, the judges would not condemn the unfortunate Goëzman and his wife to any severer penalty than that which overtook their adversary. The lawsuit was a suicidal affair to all parties. Beaumarchais came out of it a victor; but dishonored, stripped of his political and of half his civil rights, and viewed with suspicion by a large class of society. Poor Goëzman, prostrated, stunned by his overthrow, lingered in obscurity till he took his place in the cart which bore André Chénier to the guillotine. Even the Parliament died of the shock. When it perished, a few months afterward, its epitaph was thus written by a wit of the day: From oratory pretty well, for it was only on the re- from him, and kicked him contemptuously into the bushes. Returning to his carriage, two robbers attacked him. He drew his pistol and pulled the trigger; it hung fire, and a knife aimed at his heart would have put an end to his story but for a gold box containing a letter from the King, which he always wore on his left breast. He was severely wounded: notwithstanding which, he grappled the robber, threw him, and "proceeded to throttle him." At the sound of the scuffle the fellow's companions rushed to the scene, and once more Beaumarchais' life hung on a thread. They were on the point of killing him, when his postillion, uneasy at his absence, sounded a tantivy on his horn, which frightened them off. were elicited rather favored the hypothesis that the illustrious personage was of the fair sex. Under these circumstances a dispute arose between the Chevalier and the French Government about the salary of the former. A captain of grenadiers was sent to settle the negotiation: he fell in love with the Chevalier, proposed marriage, and was refused with many blushes. Beaumarchais was in London at the time. The Chevalier sent for him; confided the affair of the salary, and with sobs and tears confessed that she was a woman. Beaumarchais was touched. He wrote to the King that "a girl so interesting by her courage and her talents deserved better treatment at the hands of Government." There were better reasons still for using her tenderly. She possessed valuable papers which the King wanted. And, moreover, the subject of her sex was causing much scandal, and damaging the credit of the French Government. Beaumarchais was intrusted with a mission to her; he was to exact surrender of the papers; to induce her to return to France and to resume female apparel; and for this to pay her as little money as he could. The bargain was soon struck; but, meanwhile, a new embarrassment arose. The Chevalier wrote him that, "when she thought she was only rendering justice to his merit, and admiring his talents, she loved him." What to do with the 'amorous she-dragoon" Beaumarchais hardly knew. He wrote to her that he could not The adventure was not ended. It was not certain that the Jew had not another copy of his libel. He might still stultify the acute diplomatist. As quick as thought Beaumarchais turned his horses' heads toward Vienna, in order to procure the assistance of Maria Theresa. It was no easy matter to obtain an audience without credentials or introduction of any kind; but by impudence Beaumarchais managed it: he was admitted to a private interview with the Queen. According to his own account he exhibited so much excitement, vanity, and eccentricity on this occasion, that the reader is less surprised than Beaumarchais was when the order came for his arrest. 66 Maria Theresa, judging by his manner, to which his wound and his feverish agitation had imparted unusual wild-"assume any other character than that of a ness, that he was a maniac, had him quietly locked up in the Austrian fashion, and watched night and day. They took away his razor, penknife, and scissors, and sent a surgeon to bleed and purge him. Fancy the frenzy of the secret agent! After a month's imprisonment, letters from Paris explained matters, and he was set free. He shook the dust from his feet, would not listen to explanations, would not take the money the Empress offered him for his journey, and rushed, boiling with rage, to the French minister to demand redress. M. de Sartines heard his story, and enjoyed it. When Beaumarchais pressed him for an answer, he said simply, "Que voulez-vous, mon cher ? The Empress took you for an adventurer?" Which was all the satisfaction the diplomatist ever got. His next adventure was still more original. Almost every body has heard of the Chevalier d'Eon for those who have not, however, it must be said that about 1770, the French plenipotentiary at London was a certain Chavalier d'Eon, of uncertain origin, but who had been a diplomatic agent, a captain of dragoons, an advocate, etc., etc. All at once, in the midst of the Chevalier's usefulness, a rumor spread that he was a woman. No contradiction appeared. The story got into the newspapers, was the talk of every club. Shrewd men about town offered heavy bets that the dragoon-minister was a lady. On reference to the Chevalier, the sporting world obtained no satisfaction; but what few words man who wished well to her," and implored her to fulfill her contract and return to France. The Chevalier overwhelmed him with more epistles, alternating between hate and love; he vowed that she was driving him mad, and he would be bullied into marrying her at last. After a couple of years of this work, the Chevalier, pressed for money, fulfilled her bargain, and went to Paris in female clothes. She lived there some time, and was the subject of several odes, in which she was compared to Joan of Arc and Minerva: she also wrote books about herself, boasting that she had passed through camps, sieges, battles, and courts, and had still preserved that precious flower of girlhood, etc., etc. In 1810 she died in London. An autopsy was made of her body by Dr. Copeland, in presence of several physicians, who unanimously reported that the "amorous she-dragoon" was a perfectly-formed man. Happily Beaumarchais was dead: the shock would have killed him. We now come to a more important part of Beaumarchais' career, and one more interesting to cis-Atlantic readers. The Battle of Bunker Hill had been fought: Boston was in a state of siege. In continental Europe, where none but the well informed were aware that America was an inhabited country, very few persons indeed had any correct notion of the nature of the contest that was beginning in the British colonies, or of its probable issue. Beaumarchais had learned both from Americans whom he had met at the house of the famous Wilkes. First of Frenchmen, he divined the future and the policy of France. That Power, smarting under the treaty of 1763, desired nothing so much as an opportunity of revenging itself upon its neighbor, and weakening the power of England; and that opportunity, thought Beaumarchais, was offered by the American troubles. In September, 1775, ten months before the Declaration of Independence, he wrote to the King of France, "The Americans are determined to suffer every thing rather than give way, and are full of enthusiasm for liberty.... I say, Sire, that such a nation must be invincible; above all, when it has at its back as much country as it can possibly require for retreating.... I am convinced that the English colonies are lost to the mother country." How few Americans knew, or ventured to think, as much in September, 1775! Early in 1776 this was followed up by other memorials, in which he says, "I am obliged to warn your Majesty that the preservation of our possessions in America, and the peace which your Majesty appears to desire so much, depend solely on this one proposition-The Americans must be assisted." The court and King were slow to be convinced. France was bankrupt: England was powerful. Another war might utterly ruin the former, and leave the latter the mistress of the world. For several weeks Beaumarchais wrote, and argued, and entreated in vain. At length, some time in May, 1776, an arrangement was made between Beaumarchais and the Count de Vergennes for the French Government, by which France and Spain agreed to furnish Beaumarchais with a million of francs each, to set up a commercial house; France was to give arms and ammunition, to be paid for by Beaumarchais; and Beaumarchais was to send to the American colonies, at his own risk, "arms, ammunition, articles of equipment, and all other articles necessary for keeping up the war," such shipments to be paid for by the Americans, "not in money, as they have none," but in products of the soil, which De Vergennes promised to help Beaumarchais to sell. Such was the source of the first substantial aid the Revolutionary cause received from abroad. The arrangement was consummated on 10th June, 1776, by the payment of the first million by France. Spain paid her million on 11th of August. Two days after the receipt of the first million, Beaumarchais wrote to Arthur Lee, then in London, and acting (apparently without adequate warrant) for Congress, to inform him that "the difficulties he had met with in his negotiations with the ministry had led him to decide to form a company, which would send the ammunition and powder to your friend." On the very same day, or the next, Silas Deane arrived at Paris with full authority from Congress to procure a loan in Europe and assistance from the French Government. On application to the Count of Vergennes, he was told that France could not interfere between the colonies and En gland, but that he would do well to see Monsieur de Beaumarchais. The two entered into unreserved communication, as soon as a reliable interpreter could be found, for Beaumarchais knew not a word of English, and Deane not a word of French; and by the 24th, it was arranged that Beaumarchais was to send the articles required by Congress, and that they were to be paid for in American produce—the business of appraising the cargoes and fixing the time of payment being left to Congress. Deane wrote to Beaumarchais in terms of exuberant joy and gratitude. Nothing could surpass the energy with which the business was commenced. Beaumarchais hired a huge building at Paris, took the "name, style, and firm" of Rodrigue Hortalez, and Co., purchased from Government clothing and tents for 25,000 men, 200 cannons, guns, mortars, shells, etc., without end; and had the whole ready for shipment by mid-winter, 1776. Deane had agreed to provide vessels. The owners broke faith with him; at the time appointed no vessels were ready, and Beaumarchais had to charter others. Then Deane begged that a few officers might be sent with the munitions. Vergennes, of course, would not hear of such a thing; but Beaumarchais enlisted about fifty, among whom were the Marquis de la Rouerie, Conway, Pulaski, and Steuben. America's ob ligations to this Prince of Intrigue are indeed astounding. All was now ready for the departure of the first convoy when Beaumarchais' vanity almost ruined the scheme. The same motive which induced Napoleon to regulate the affairs of the Theatre Français in a decree dated from the Kremlin, just before the fire, impelled Beaumarchais, who had gone to Havre under an assumed name to superintend the departure of his squadron, to have the "Barber of Seville" rehearsed in his presence there. English agents took the alarm at his presence at the sea-port. Lord Stormont, the embassador, ful minated vehement protests against the intrigues of Beaumarchais. Terrified at the prospect of a rupture with England, the King forbade Beaumarchais' squadron from putting to sea. The order was too late. The largest of the three ships, the Amphitrite, had sailed. More than half the supply of munitions was on board of her. But in the midst of their mutual congratulations Deane and Beaumarchais were thunderstruck by the news that the Amphitrite had put into L'Orient, at the request of M. Ducoudray, the supercargo-the same who so mortally offended Greene, Sullivan, and Knox, by claiming the command of the artillery, and was drowned in the Schuylkill. He objected to the accommodation. Enraged beyond measure, Beaumarchais wrote to Ducoudray to leave the ship or to submit to the captain; and hurried to Paris to obtain the revocation of the order forbidding his vessels to sail. He did obtain it after some trouble; and at last the first squadron sailed. It arrived in America in time for the campaign of 1777, and was welcomed with | Congress. As this is important, in view of the enthusiastic cheers. It was on this occasion comparative neglect into which Beaumarchias that Silas Deane wrote the words which are is falling, we give it entire. prefixed to this article. promptest measures for acquitting itself of the debts it has contracted with you. By express order of the Congress sitting at PhiladelTroubles soon followed. After shipping two phia to M. de Beaumarchais. more cargoes, he began to inquire about returns, "SIR,-The Congress of the United States of which were not being advised. Deane could America, grateful for the great efforts you have tell him nothing. He continued to ship, though made in their favor, presents you its thanks and in a somewhat uneasy frame of mind; and by the assurance of its esteem. It grieves for the misSeptember, 1777, he estimated that he had fortunes you have suffered in support of its States. transmitted munitions of war to the amount of Unfortunate circumstances have prevented the ac$1,000,000. He had not yet received even a let-complishment of its desires; but it will take the ter from Congress acknowledging receipt of his consignments. He had "exhausted his money and credit, and the funds of his friends." He could get no explanation from Deane, who was, in fact, as much surprised as himself. He began to ask himself whether "he was not deluded in believing in the equity and justice of Congres."... Through all these annoyances, the news from America overwhelmed him with joybrave, brave people! their warlike conduct justified his esteem. . . . But why did they not ship any tobaccoes? "The generous sentiments and the exalted views which alone could dictate a conduct such as yours are your greatest eulogium and are an honor to your character. While by your great talents you have rendered yourself useful to your prince, you have gained the esteem of this rising Republic, and merited the deserved applause of the New World. "JOHN JAY, President." A pretty fair certificate for the Prince of Intrigue. It was followed by a partial payment, $500,000 The secret was very simple. When Deane in bills of exchange at three years' date, on which arrived at Paris, Beaumarchais ceased to corre-Beaumarchais had to submit to a heavy discount. spond with Arthur Lee; who, annoyed at being superseded, and unable to succeed in fomenting a quarrel between Deane and Beaumarchais, revenged himself by informing the Congress that Rodrigue Hortalez, and Co. were fictitious personages, that the real owner of the cargoes was the French government, and that they did not expect any returns. Congress did not notice Beaumarchais-Hortalez, simply because that body believed him to be a man of straw-a myth. It must be admitted that Beaumarchais helped to keep up the impression by closing business letters advising shipments and inclosing invoices with such words as these: "Gentlemen, consider my house as the head of all operations useful to your cause in Europe, and myself as the most zealous partisan of your nation, the soul of your successes, and a man most profoundly filled with the respectful esteem with which," etc. In spite of the cavalier treatment of Congress, Beaumarchais continued to ship cargoes. Just after the breaking out of the war between England and France, he sent to sea ten merchant vessels, convoyed by his largest man-of-war, the Fier Roderigue. As the fleet was sailing jauntily across the ocean it had the good luck to fall in with D'Estaing, who was just going to engage Admiral Biron. D'Estaing examined the Fier Roderigue through his glass, was pleased with her looks, and quietly signaled her to take her place in the line. There was no disputing the order. The merchantmen were left to the mercy of Providence; the Fier Roderigue went in for the fight, lost her captain and thirty-five men, and was knocked all to pieces, with nine shots in the hull, and every cord cut away. Despite his warlike ardor, Beaumarchais would have had hard work to keep up his spirits on the day this letter reached him, but for one which he received on the same day from the At the same time he lost heavily on paper he Still no money them were outlawed, and it was penal even to sell them, while the whole collection, filling seventy volumes octavo, involved an enormous outlay. Beaumarchais concurred in M. de Maurepas' remarks. The latter, suddenly turning to his visitor, exclaimed, "There is but one man in France bold enough to undertake the riskthat is yourself!" Beaumarchais went out and announced that a "Literary, Philosophical, and Typographical Society" (consisting of himself) was about to publish Voltaire complete, on a scale of unattempted magnificence. your creditor. Suffer me then, in dying, to be- | a good edition of Voltaire's works. No pubqueath to you my daughter, to endow with a lisher dared undertake them; at least half of portion of what you owe me..." After adding that if his health improves, he will go to America, he says, "Holding out to all the cap of liberty, with which no man more than myself has helped to decorate your heads, I will exclaim to you, 'Americans, bestow alms on your friend, whose accumulated services have received but this reward. Date obolum Belisario."" He never obtained satisfaction. Twenty-five years after his death, this daughter came here with her son to plead her case, but fared no better. It was not till Jackson handled the French so roughly about their debts, that Beaumarchais' claimthen amounting to nearly a million of dollars was galvanized into existence by being filed as a set-off by the French. The heirs of Beaumar-ments in paper-making there; hired a castle at chais were then offered 800,000 francs, say $160,000, in full for their claims; and they closed the litigation on these terms. He sent to England for $30,000 worth of type, bought three paper-mills, and dispatched an agent to Holland to learn the latest improve Kehl, in Baden, and filled it with workmen; then set to work to print two editions of Voltaire. Anticipating devices which have been common enough in our own day, he laid out $40,000 in prizes to be adjudged by lot among the first 4000 subscribers to the work; and though he never obtained a subscription list of over 2000, the prizes were duly paid over with the first volume. The speculation proved a ruinous one. Of 15,000 copies printed, not over 2000 were sold. He lost, he says, full a million of francs. With M. de Loménie, the biographer, is terribly severe and sarcastic on the United States in connection with this matter. He is a sort of heavy Sydney Smith. No doubt the United States ought to have paid the debt sooner. But even M. de Loménie admits that Beaumarchais received two millions from France and one from Spain for this country, and gave no account of them. M. de Loménie thinks that he accounted for them privately to the Count of This satisfied him with book-making. Vergennes, and that all record of the transac- the lesson on his mind, he settled down at Paris tion has been lost. This is a bold theory. The as a speculator and financier, and probably reweight of circumstantial evidence is on the side paired his losses. At all events, he appears as of another view, which is, that Beaumarchais got the banker of a host of personages, noblemen, these three millions, never accounted for them, literary men, and others, who needed a banker and demanded of the United States repayment not to keep but to lend money. He had always of a like sum, as though he had disbursed them been generous. During the War of Independout of his own funds. The transaction, howev-ence it appears that the young French officers er, is not particularly honorable to either side; Lafayette, Pulaski, De la Rouerie, and others, it would be well if it were forgotten. In order to present a continuous view of his American transactions, we have somewhat anticipated events. were always in his debt. His biographer conscientiously chronicles the names, and often the letters of later borrowers. There was the Prince of Nassau, who was always sending for money, and driving his creditor distracted by leading forlorn hopes, and endangering his valuable life in fifty different ways; and there was his wife, who never could recollect Beaumarchais' name, though she wrote to him once a month or oftener, to say that she "was again without a sou, and would her good Bonmarchais send her a few Rodrigue Hortalez, and Co., notwithstanding their "losses" in the American service, continued to do a large business. At this time France was a highly mercantile nation. Bordeaux, as Arthur Young tells us, had more commerce than Liverpool. Beaumarchais became one of the largest merchants and operators in the kingdom. His fleets were on every sea. His balance-louis, if he wished her to dine to-morrow?" sheets footed up several millions. And though the ingenuous M. de Loménie believes that he has discovered, by an examination of his books, that the profits of the firm during its whole career were only some 50,000 francs, there is reason to believe that the discovery demonstrates nothing but our French friend's ignorance of the mysteries of book-keeping. Beyond all doubt Beaumarchais made a very large fortune in trade. In 1779 he was in the cabinet of the Prime Minister. Like all men of standing in France at the time, both were intense admirers of Voltaire, The minister was deploring the want of And there were a host of army officers, naval men, authors, and mere idlers, who wrote to Beaumarchais asking for twenty-five louis as a matter of course, and often obtaining what they wanted, then turning round and abusing him as a man of no principles. One poor fellow, named Dorat, who wrote mild verse, actually obtained $2000 from the financier, and died without paying any thing. Beaumarchais' book-keeper tied up his papers, and labeled them "Insolvent Debtors Dead, No. 23, Dorat." The "Marriage of Figaro," which is probably the greatest of Beaumarchais' plays-though, for some reason, it has never been popular in |