VI. A poet, whose works were all the rage,— (This gentleman's name was Sing-Song-Strum,)— Told the terrible tale on his popular page: (Compar'd with his verses, my rhymes are but rum!) The Royal Society claim'd, as their right, The spoils of the vanquish'd—his wings, tail, and claws; And a brilliant bravura, describing the fight, Was sung on the stage with unbounded applause. "The valiant Bam-Boo" was a favourite toast, And a topic for future historians to fag on, Which, when it had reach'd to the Middlesex coast, Gave rise to the legend of "George and the Dragon."
A PASSAGE IN THE LIFE OF BEAUMARCHAIS.
BY GEORGE HOGARTH.
M. de Beaumarchais, the celebrated French dramatist, was one of the most remarkable men of his time, though his fame now rests in a great measure on his two comedies, Le Barbier de Seville, and Le Mariage de Figaro; and even these titles are now-a-days much more generally associated with the names of Rossini and Mozart, than with that of Beaumarchais. Few comedies, however, have been more popular on the French stage than these delightful productions. The character of Susanna was the chef d'œre of the fascinating Mademoiselle Contat; and has preserved its attractions, almost down to the present time, in the hands of her evergreen successor, the inimitable Mars. The Count and Countess Almaviva, Susanna, Figaro, and Cherubino, have now become the property of Italian singers; and, in this musical age, even the French public have been content to give up the wit, satire, point, and playfulness of the original comedies, for those meagre outlines which have been made the vehicles for the most charming dramatic music in the world. Not that Il Barbiere di Siviglia and Le Nozze di Figaro are not lively and amusing, considered as operas; but the vis comica of Beaumarchais has almost entirely evaporated in the process of transmutation.
None of the other dramatic works of Beaumarchais are comparable to these. Some of them bear marks of immature genius; and his last play, La Mère Coupable, the conclusion of the history of the Almaviva family, was written after a long interval, and when advanced age, and a life of cares and troubles, appear to have extinguished the author's gaiety, and changed the tone of his feelings. The play is written with power, but it is gloomy, and even tragical; succeeding its lively and brilliant precursors as a sunset of clouds and darkness closes a bright and smiling day. It painfully disturbs the agreeable associations produced by the names of its characters; and, for the sake of these associations, every one who reads it must wish to forget it.
But it is not so much to the writings of Beaumarchais, as to himself, that we wish at present to direct the attention of our readers. His life was anything but that of a man of letters. He possessed extraordinary talents for affairs; and, during his whole life, was deeply engaged in important pursuits both of a private and public nature. Extensive commercial enterprises, lawsuits of singular complication, and missions of great moment as a political agent, withdrew him from the walks of literature, and probably prevented him (as one of his biographers has remarked) from enriching the French stage with twenty dramatic masterpieces, instead of two or three. In this respect he resembled our Sheridan, as well as in the character of his genius; for we know of no plays that are more akin to each other, in many remarkable features, than The School for Scandal and Le Mariage de Figaro.
It is a remarkable circumstance in the history of Beaumarchais, that a considerable portion of his literary fame was derived from a species of composition from which anything of the kind could hardly have been expected,—the pleadings, or law-papers, in the various causes in which he was involved. The proceedings in the French parliaments, or high courts of justice, were totally different from those with which we are acquainted in England; though they were similar to those which were practised in the Scottish court of session, (a tribunal formed on the French model,) before that court came in for its share in the general progress of reform. There were no juries; the proceedings were conducted under the direction of a single judge, whose business it was to prepare the cause for decision, and then to make a report upon it to the whole court, by whom the judgment was given. A favourable view of the case from the reporting judge was, of course, an object of much importance; and the most urgent solicitations by the litigants and their friends—nay, even bribes—were often employed to obtain it. A charge against Beaumarchais,—a groundless one, however,—of having attempted to bribe the wife of one of these judges, exposed him to a long and violent persecution. Among his enemies were men of rank and power; the grossest calumnies against him were circulated in the highest quarters, and countenanced by the court in which he was a litigant; the bar became afraid to support him, and he could no longer find an advocate. In these forlorn circumstances the energy of his character did not abandon him, and he resolved to become his own advocate.
The pleadings in the French courts of those days were all written. The cause was debated in mémoires, or memorials, in which the pleas of the parties were stated without any of our technical formality. Law, logic, eloquence, pathos, and sarcasm, were all employed, in whatever way the pleader thought most advantageous. The paper was printed and distributed, not only among the judges, but among the friends and connexions of the parties; and when the case excited much interest, the distribution was often so extensive as almost to amount to publication. Beaumarchais, deserted by his former advocates, began to compose his own memorials, to which he found means to obtain the mere signature of some member of the bar. In this manner he fought a long and desperate battle, in which, after some severe reverses, (one of which was the burning of a series of his memorials by the common hangman, pursuant to a sentence of the court,) he at length achieved a complete and signal victory over all his enemies, whom he not only defeated on the immediate subjects of dispute, but overwhelmed with universal ridicule and contempt.
In the mean time these mémoires produced an extraordinary sensation throughout France. When a new one appeared, it flew from hand to hand like lightning. The causes in which Beaumarchais was involved were so interesting in themselves, and connected with such strange occurrences, that, had they belonged to the period of the Causes Célèbres, they would have made a remarkable figure in that famous collection. Their interest was increased a thousand-fold by the memorials of Beaumarchais. "The genius," says a French writer, "with which they are marked, the originality of the style, the dramatic form of the narrative, mingled with fine bursts of eloquence, keep the attention always awake; while the logical clearness of the reasoning, and the art of accompanying every statement of facts with striking and conclusive evidence, lay hold of the mind, and interest and instruct, without fatiguing the reader. But their most remarkable feature is the noble firmness of mind which they display; the serenity of a lofty spirit which the most terrible and unforeseen reverses were unable to subdue or intimidate; the stamp, in short, of a great character which is impressed upon them." These writings of Beaumarchais are spoken of in terms of admiration by the most eminent literati of that day, especially by Voltaire, in many parts of his correspondence; they attracted the notice of the government, and procured for their author several political missions, the results of which had no small influence on the public affairs of the time.