“You have completely turned the city,” his attorney said to him. His triumph was complete; a definite decree of Parliament disembarrassed him forever of the Comte de la Blache. The latter was condemned to execute the agreement drawn up and signed, du Verney, 1770. “The affair,” says Gudin, “was examined with the most scrupulous attention and judged after fifty-nine seances. The legatee, all of whose demands were rejected, was condemned, and his memoirs were suppressed.” Beaumarchais, in turn, was condemned to pay 1,000 _écus_ to the poor of Aix as a punishment for the severe witticisms against his antagonist, in which he had indulged in his memoirs. They were also publicly condemned. Beaumarchais, however, was triumphant. Overwhelmed with joy to find his honor and his fortune restored to him, he desired only that the good people of Aix should rejoice with him. Instead, therefore, of the 1,000 _écus_ demanded of him, he instantly doubled the sum, requesting that it might be distributed in dowries to twelve or fifteen poor, but worthy young women; the benediction of so many families happily established seeming to him the most beautiful which he could draw upon himself. “The intoxication of this triumph, after so many years of uncertainty and combat, the enthusiasm with which he was received by the people of Aix,” are graphically described by Gudin in a letter written at the moment of his triumph. “All the city,” wrote Gudin, “which subsists on suits, was in a state of the greatest impatience. While the judges deliberated, the doors of the court house were besieged; women, idlers, and those interested, were under the trees of a beautiful avenue not far off. The cafés, which bordered this promenade, were also filled. The Comte de la Blache was in his well lighted salon, which looked out on this avenue. Our friend was in a quarter at some distance away. Night came; at last the doors of the court house opened and these words were heard: ‘Beaumarchais has gained;’ a thousand voices repeated them, the clapping of hands spread down the avenue. Suddenly the windows and doors of the Comte were closed, the crowd arrived with cries, and acclamations, at the house of my friend; men, women, people who knew him and those who knew him not, embraced him, and congratulated him; this universal joy, the cries and transports overcame him, he burst into tears, and see him, like a great baby, let himself fall fainting into my arms. It was then who could succor him, who with vinegar, who with smelling salts, who with air; but, as he himself has said, the sweet impressions of joy do no harm. He soon returned to himself, and we went together to see and thank the first president.... On returning ... we found the same crowd at the house; tamborines, flutes, violins succeeded before and after supper; all the fagots of the neighborhood were piled up and made a fire of joy.... The mechanics of the place composed a song, and came in a body to sing it under his windows.