Beaumarchais and the War of American Independence Volume II Part 20

"To appreciate the diplomatic value," continues Lomenie, "of this pa.s.sage, and the art with which Beaumarchais in the suppleness of his tenacity knew how to bind over the people who inconvenienced him, and that he could not openly attack, it is well to recall that at this moment he was struggling against an express prohibition of the representation of his play by the king, a prohibition that his majesty consented to lift only for one day, in a particular house and that only to gratify his brother the Comte d'Artois and M. de Vaudreuil."

Beaumarchais, on his side, was sincere in not wis.h.i.+ng to let it be played at Grennevilliers except on condition that he be formally promised that sooner or later it would be given to the public; but since he did not dare to push the matter so far, he saw the way to take one step in advance, by inventing the beautiful paraphrase that had just been read, which became a sort of vague engagement contracted with him and upon which he would depend very soon to push matters still further.

On these conditions he finally accorded the permission asked, and M. de Vaudreuil thanked him in a letter which proves as far as he was concerned, that he accepted the engagement in the sense understood by Beaumarchais. He wrote:

[Ill.u.s.tration: JOHN JAY]

"The comte de Vaudreuil has the honor to thank M. de Beaumarchais for the kindness which he has shown in allowing his piece to be played at Grennevilliers. The comte de Vaudreuil has seized with alacrity this opportunity of giving to the public a chef d'uvre which it awaits with impatience. The presence of Monseigneur the comte d'Artois and the real merit of this charming piece will in the end destroy all the obstacles which have r.e.t.a.r.ded its representation. The comte de Vaudreuil hopes very soon to be able to thank M. de Beaumarchais personally.

"This Monday, Sept. 15th, 1783."

"The success of this representation at Grennevilliers was such," to continue the account of Lomenie, "that a complete change operated in Beaumarchais's att.i.tude toward the piece. Resigned hitherto under the royal prohibition, working slowly and carefully to gain ground, he now became impatient, pressing and almost imperious. It is clear to anyone who will reflect, that on the day when Louis XVI permitted at the insistence of the Queen, the Comte d'Artois and M. de Vaudreuil to the representation at Grennevillier, he placed himself where he would be unable long to resist public curiosity, carried now to the heights by that very representation, of which everyone spoke, and by the address of Beaumarchais." It was not, however, until March, 1784, that the desired permission was given.

"The picture of that representation of _Le Mariage de Figaro_," says Lomenie, "is in all the chronicles of the times, it is the best remembered scene of the eighteenth century. All Paris from earliest morning, pressed the doors of the Theatre-Francais; the greatest ladies dining in the boxes of the actresses so as to be sure of their places-the guards dispersed, the doors broken down, the iron railings giving way before the crowd of a.s.sailants. When the curtain rose upon the scene, the finest reunion of talent which the Theatre-Francais had ever possessed was there with but one thought, to bring out to the best advantage a comedy, flas.h.i.+ng with _esprit_, carrying one away in its movement and audacity, which if it shocks some of the boxes, enchants, stirs, enflames and electrifies the parterre."

And what is this play that roused such wild enthusiasm a century and more ago, and which to-day, although its political significance has long vanished, would still give its author, had he done nothing but create its characters, a right to a place among the immortals?

"The _Mariage de Figaro_," to quote his own words, "was the most trivial of intrigues:

"A great Spanish n.o.bleman, in love with a young girl whom he wishes to seduce, and the efforts of that same girl and of him to whom she is engaged, and of the wife of the n.o.bleman united to outwit his designs-and he an absolute master whose rank, fortune and prodigality render all powerful its accomplishment-that and nothing more."

The characters are those in the main of the _Barbier_: the Comte Almaviva, the Comtesse Rosine, and the valet Figaro, are old friends.

But there are new ones, the page Cherubim, and Suzanne, lady's maid to the Comtesse-"Always laughing, tender, full of gaiety, of _esprit_, of love and delicious!-but good."

"Like the _Barbier_," says Lintilhac, "it is here a question of marriage, but it is the valet this time who is to marry and the obstacles which r.e.t.a.r.d this desired _denouement_ arise, not from the jealousy of a guardian, or the resistance of a father but from the covetousness of a young libertine master.... It is the master who is outwitted, the valet and his fiancee who triumph, and in this _denouement_ lies the whole secret of the wild enthusiasm with which the piece was greeted. Right here lies the Revolution."

But the master is as truly painted in the play as the other characters.

"The Comte Almaviva," says Imbert de Saint Amand, "is the old regime, Figaro is the new society. Almaviva is corrupt, but he is always _comme il faut_. Even in his anger he remains the man of good society; no doubt his faults are great; he is a libertine from ennui, jealous from vanity, but he is not odious, not ridiculous."

But to return to Lintilhac:

"We may see that Figaro, by the aid of two clever women and his own _esprit_ has the opportunity to interest the public and to bring all to a happy ending.

"'Be on your guard that day, M. Figaro! First put the clocks in advance so as to be a little surer of marrying. Get rid of Marceline who wants to marry you herself-take all the money and the presents, let the count have his way, in little things; drub Basil roundly, ... (Act I, Scene II). And let us finish the programme which the fat doctor interrupts,-giving yourself full rein, invective politics, graft and those who live by it; ridicule censors.h.i.+p, and the law, as well as those who abuse both-banter privileges and the privileged and all that attaches itself to either, in a word-open the way for the men of genius who are preparing there below in the obscure crowd, and who wish to emerge.

"But the time to laugh, _la folle journee_ commences. _Quel imbroglio!_ Twenty times everything seems finished, and suddenly, an unexpected incident, but always arising out of the situation, throws forward in rapid movement that brilliant group of personages. They seek, they evade one another, group themselves in tableaux turn by turn, animated and gracious, laughing or grotesque....

"And the new song to the old music! And the scene which a moment ago framed these charming groups, suddenly fills with the noise of the crowd and the whole village which sings. _Quel crescendo_ of gaiety!...

"Take the most ingenious comedy of Lope de Vega, or Calderon, add the gaiety of Regnard, the comique of George Dandin, the amusing of Vade, and one will scarcely have in imagination the equivalent of the scene on the night which terminates the _Mariage de Figaro_."

And his faithful friend Gudin says of it: "In this piece the parterre applauded not only scenes founded upon true _comique_-that of situations, new characters, like Cherubim and Bridoison-but also the courageous man who dared undertake to combat by ridicule the libertinage of the great lords, the ignorance of magistrates, the venality of officers and the unbecoming way of pleading of lawyers.

"Beaumarchais might perhaps consider himself more authorized in this than anyone else since he had been calumniated so outrageously by great lords, and injured by the insolent pleadings of lawyers, and _blame_ by bad judges.... Let us dare to say what is true, that since Moliere no author had better understood the human heart, or better painted the manners of his time."

And his latest critic, Lintilhac, a hundred years after Gudin, corroborates his judgment. "By the creation of Figaro, Beaumarchais is the first comic French author after Moliere, the incomparable painter of character."

Of the famous monologue of the piece, Gudin says, "I remember that when the author composed it in a moment of enthusiasm, he was alarmed himself at its extent. We examined it together; I regarded it with severe attention. Everything seemed to me in its place; not a word could be omitted without regretting it. Every phrase had a moral or a useful object proper to cause the spectator to reflect either on human nature or on the abuses of society."

Of its moral significance Beaumarchais has commented in his preface to the play: "An author has but one duty; to correct men in making them see themselves as they are, whether he moralizes in laughing or weeps in moralizing."

And let us now close this brief summary of the famous play by the description given by Imbert de Saint-Amand in "_La fin de l'ancien Regime_."

"Beaumarchais, that marvelous wit, was scarcely aware perhaps of the weight of his attacks and of the gravity of the piece. He did not desire the fall of the throne any more than the overturning of the altar, at heart he was monarchic.... The first representation was given April 27, 1784, by the Comedie Francaise.... The success went to the stars.

Beaumarchais himself could not help crying out, 'There is something more astounding than my piece, it is its success.' ... Actors and actresses surpa.s.sed themselves. Every word told. Each bit of satire was welcomed by acclamations and bravos without end. The public recognized itself in the portrait of Figaro. 'Never angry, always gay, giving over the present to joy and not worrying about the future any more than the past,-lively, generous, _generous_!'

"'Like a robber,' says Bartolo.

"'Like a lord,' replies Marceline.

"What joy for all that a.s.sembly, his definition of a courtier:

"Figaro-'I was born to be a courtier.'

"Suzanne-'They say it is a very difficult business.'

"Figaro-'Receive, take, ask, that is the secret in three words.'

"What joyous laughter at the reflection, very true, by the way:

"Le Comte-'The domestics here take longer to dress than their masters.'

"Figaro-'That is because they have no valets to help them.'

"What an excellent remark upon the chances for functionaries:

"Le Comte-'With character and intelligence you may one day be promoted in office.'

"Figaro-'Intelligence will advance me? Monsieur is making sport of mine-to be mediocre and cringing, one can arrive at anything.'

"And after this very subtle observation, what a picture of diplomacy:

"'Pretend to be ignorant of what everyone knows, and to know what others do not know, seem to understand what n.o.body comprehends, not to hear what all hear, and most of all appear able to do the impossible. Seem profound when one is only empty; spread spies, pension traitors, loosen seals, and intercept letters; magnify the poverty of the methods by the importance of the object,-that's politics, or I'm a dead man.'

"The diplomats who were in the audience were transported with pleasure in hearing their business so exactly judged.

"The great ladies went into ecstacies at the remark of Suzanne to the countess: 'I have noticed how a knowledge of the world gives an ease to ladies well brought up, so they can lie without showing it.'

"They applauded with enthusiasm that democratic observation, but profoundly true of this same Suzanne: 'Do you think women of my position have hysterics? That is a malady which is only to be found in the boudoir.'

"The great lords, always surrounded with flatterers and parasites, applauded with transport that phrase of Figaro to Basil: 'Are you a prince that you must be servilely flattered? Suffer the truth, wretch, since you cannot pay a liar.'

"But the moment when the enthusiasm became delirium, frenzy-the moment when the dukes and peers, the ministers, the _cordons rouges_, the _cordons bleus_-were transported to the seventh heaven of acclaim, was when the daring _Barbier_ transformed himself into a tribune and said to all of them in the monologue under the chestnut tree:

"'Because you are a great lord you believe yourself a great genius.

Rank, fortune, position, all that make you so proud! What have you done to deserve so many gifts? You have taken the trouble to be born, nothing else!'

"The functionaries charged with the censure were particularly enchanted with this phrase of the same monologue: 'On condition that I do not speak in my writings, either of authority, or religion, or politics, or morals, or of people in position, or bodies in favor, or anyone who holds to anything, I am allowed to write, to print everything freely under the inspection of two or three censors.'