We have given this sketch of the character of Beaumarchais by way of introduction to an account of a remarkable incident of his life, taken from one of those extraordinary productions. Among other calumnies, he had been charged, at one time with a series of atrocities committed in Spain ten years before; and, among other things, with having endeavoured to bully a Spanish gentleman into a marriage with his sister, whom that gentleman had kept as a mistress; and it was added that he had been expelled from Spain in disgrace. In one of his mémoires he answers these accusations, by giving a narrative of his residence in Spain during the period in question. It is a leaf of "the romance of real life," and the interest of the story is heightened by the conviction of its entire truth; for every fact is confirmed by evidence, and the smallest incorrectness, as the writer knew, would be laid hold of by his enemies. Goethe, it is not immaterial to add, has made it the subject of his tragedy of Clavijo, the characters of which consist of Beaumarchais himself, and the other persons introduced into his narrative; though the great German dramatist has taken some poetical liberties with the story, especially in its tragical catastrophe.
The following narrative is a condensation of the original, which contains minute details and pieces of evidence, of great importance to M. de Beaumarchais' object at the time,—a conclusive vindication of his character, but not at all conducive to the interest of the story.
"For some years I had enjoyed the happiness of living in the bosom of my family; and our domestic union consoled me for all I suffered through the malice of my enemies. I had five sisters. Two of them had been committed by my father, at a very early age, to the care of one of his correspondents in Spain, so that I had only that faint but pleasant remembrance of them which is associated with our days of childhood. This remembrance, however, was kept alive by frequent correspondence.
"In February 1764, my father received from his eldest daughter a letter of very painful import. 'My sister,' she wrote, 'has been grossly abused by a powerful and dangerous man. Twice, when on the point of marrying her, he has broken his word, and withdrawn without condescending to assign any reason for his conduct; and my poor sister's wounded feelings have thrown her into a state of depression from which we have faint hopes of her recovery. For these six days she has not spoken a word. Under this unmerited stigma, we are living in the deepest retirement. I weep night and day, and endeavour to offer the unhappy girl comfort which I cannot find myself.'
"My father put his daughter's letter into my hands, 'Try, my son,' he said, 'what you can do for these poor girls. They are your sisters as well as the others.'
"'Alas, my dear father,' I said, 'what can I do for them? What assistance shall I ask? Who knows but they may have brought this disgrace upon themselves by some fault of their own?'
"My father showed me some letters from our ambassador to my elder sister, in which he spoke of both of them in terms of the highest esteem. I read these letters. They gave me courage; and my father's phrase, 'They are your sisters as well as the others,' had sunk into my heart. 'Console yourself,' I said to him, 'I am going to adopt a course that may surprise you; but it appears to me the surest and the most prudent. My eldest sister mentions several respectable persons in Paris who can give testimony to the good conduct and virtue of her sister. I will see them; and if their testimony is as honourable as that of our ambassador, I shall instantly set out for Madrid, and either punish the traitor who has outraged them, or bring them back with me to share my humble fortune.'
"My inquiries were completely satisfactory. I immediately returned to Versailles, and informed my august patronesses,[51] that business, no less painful than urgent, demanded my immediate presence at Madrid. I showed them my sister's letter, and received their permission to depart, in terms of the kindest encouragement. My preparations were soon made, as I dreaded that I might not arrive in time to save my poor sister's life. I obtained the strongest letters of recommendation to our ambassador at Madrid; and my ancient friend, M. Duvernay, gave me a credit on himself to the amount of two hundred thousand francs, to enable me to transact a piece of commercial business, and at the same time to increase my personal consideration. I was accompanied by one of my friends, a merchant, who had some business in Spain; but who went also partly on my account.
"We travelled day and night, and arrived in Madrid on the 18th of May 1764. I had been expected for some days, and found my sisters in the midst of their friends. As soon as the feelings, caused by a meeting between a brother and his sisters, so long separated, and seeing each other once more under such circumstances, had subsided, I earnestly conjured them to give me an exact account of all that had happened, in order that I might be able to serve them effectually. The story was long and minute. When I had heard it to an end, I embraced my young sister:
"'Now that know all, my dear girl,' I said, 'keep your mind at ease. I am delighted to see that you no longer love this man, and my part is all the easier on that account. All that I want now, is to know where I can find him.'