Part 21

Not long after his two attempts at the serious drama, he had tried to turn to account his musical faculty by writing both the book and the score of a comic opera, which had, however, been rejected by the Comédie-Italienne (the predecessor of the present Opéra Comique). After a while Beaumarchais cut out his music and worked over his plot into a five-act comedy in prose, 'The Barber of Seville.' It was produced by the Théâtre Français in 1775, and like the contemporary 'Rivals' of Sheridan,--the one English author with whom Beaumarchais must always be compared,--it was a failure on the first night and a lasting success after the author had reduced it and rearranged it. 'The Barber of Seville' was like the 'Gil Blas' of Lesage in that, while it was seemingly Spanish in its scenes, it was in reality essentially French. It contained one of the strongest characters in literature,--Figaro, a reincarnation of the intriguing servant of Menander and Plautus and Molière. Simple in plot, ingenious in incident, brisk in dialogue, broadly effective in character-drawing, 'The Barber of Seville' is the most famous French comedy of the eighteenth century, with the single exception of its successor from the same pen, which appeared nine years later.

During those years Beaumarchais was not idle. Like Defoe, he was always devising projects for money-making. A few months after 'The Barber of Seville' had been acted, the American Revolution began, and Beaumarchais was a chief agent in supplying the Americans with arms, ammunition, and supplies. He had a cruiser of his own, Le Fier Roderigue, which was in D'Estaing's fleet. When the independence of the United States was recognized at last, Beaumarchais had a pecuniary claim against the young nation which long remained unsettled.

Not content with making war on his own account almost, Beaumarchais also undertook the immense task of publishing a complete edition of Voltaire. He also prepared a sequel to the 'Barber,' in which Figaro should be even more important, and should serve as a mouthpiece for declamatory criticism of the social order. But his 'Marriage of Figaro' was so full of the revolutionary ferment that its performance was forbidden. Following the example of Molière under the similar interdiction of 'Tartuffe,' Beaumarchais was untiring in arousing interest in his unacted play, reading it himself in the houses of the great. Finally it was authorized, and when the first performance took place at the Théâtre Français in 1784, the crush to see it was so great that three persons were stifled to death. The new comedy was as amusing and as adroit as its predecessor, and the hits at the times were sharper and swifter and more frequent. How demoralized society was then may be gauged by the fact that this disintegrating satire was soon acted by the amateurs of the court, a chief character being impersonated by Marie Antoinette herself.

The career of Beaumarchais reached its climax with the production of the second of the Figaro plays. Afterward he wrote the libretto for an opera, 'Tarare,' produced with Salieri's music in 1787; the year before he had married for the third time. In a heavy play called 'The Guilty Mother,' acted with slight success in 1790, he brought in Figaro yet once more. During the Terror he emigrated to Holland, returning to Paris in 1796 to find his sumptuous mansion despoiled. May 18th, 1799, he died, leaving a fortune of $200,000, besides numerous claims against the French nation and the United States.

An interesting parallel could be drawn between 'The Rivals' and the 'School for Scandal' on the one side, and on the other 'The Barber of Seville' and 'The Marriage of Figaro'; and there are also piquant points of likeness between Sheridan and Beaumarchais. But Sheridan, with all his failings, was of sterner stuff than Beaumarchais. He had a loftier political morality, and he served the State more loyally. Yet the two comedies of Beaumarchais are like the two comedies of Sheridan in their incessant wit, in their dramaturgic effectiveness, and in the histrionic opportunities they afford. Indeed, the French comedies have had a wider audience than the English, thanks to an Italian and a German,--to Rossini who set 'The Barber of Seville' to music, and to Mozart who did a like service for 'The Marriage of Figaro.'

FROM 'THE BARBER OF SEVILLE'

OUTWITTING A GUARDIAN

[Rosina's lover, Count Almaviva, attempts to meet and converse with her by hoodwinking Dr. Bartolo, her zealous guardian. He comes in disguise to Bartolo's dwelling, in a room of which the scene is laid.]

[_Enter Count Almaviva, dressed as a student_.]

_Count [solemnly]_--May peace and joy abide here evermore!

_Bartolo [brusquely]_--Never, young sir, was wish more àpropos! What do you want?

_Count_--Sir, I am one Alonzo, a bachelor of arts--

_Bartolo_--Sir, I need no instructor.

_Count_---- ---- a pupil of Don Basilio, the organist of the convent, who teaches music to Madame your--

_Bartolo [suspiciously]_--Basilio! Organist! Yes, I know him. Well?

_Count [aside]_--What a man! _[Aloud.]_ He's confined to his bed with a sudden illness.

_Bartolo_--Confined to his bed! Basilio! He's very good to send word, for I've just seen him.

_Count [aside]_--Oh, the devil! [_Aloud._] When I say to his bed, sir, it's--I mean to his room.

_Bartolo_--Whatever's the matter with him, go, if you please.

_Count [embarrassed]_--Sir, I was asked--Can no one hear us?

_Bartolo [aside]_--It's some rogue! _[Aloud.]_ What's that? No, Monsieur Mysterious, no one can hear! Speak frankly--if you can.

_Count [aside]_--Plague take the old rascal! _[Aloud.]_ Don Basilio asked me to tell you--

_Bartolo_--Speak louder. I'm deaf in one ear.

_Count [raising his voice_]--Ah! quite right: he asks me to say to you that one Count Almaviva, who was lodging on the great square--

_Bartolo [frightened]_--Speak low, speak low.

_Count [louder]_----moved away from there this morning. As it was I who told him that this Count Almaviva--

_Bartolo_--Low, speak lower, I beg of you.

_Count [in the same tone_]--Was in this city, and as I have discovered that Señorita Rosina has been writing to him--

_Bartolo_--Has been writing to him? My dear friend, I implore you, _do_ speak low! Come, let's sit down, let's have a friendly chat. You have discovered, you say, that Rosina--

_Count_ [_angrily_]--Certainly. Basilio, anxious about this correspondence on your account, asked me to show you her letter; but the way you take things--

_Bartolo_--Good Lord! I take them well enough. But can't you possibly speak a little lower?

_Count_--You told me you were deaf in one ear.

_Bartolo_--I beg your pardon, I beg your pardon, if I've been surly and suspicious, Signor Alonzo: I'm surrounded with spies--and then your figure, your age, your whole air--I beg your pardon. Well? Have you the letter?

_Count_--I'm glad you're barely civil at last, sir. But are you quite sure no one can overhear us?

_Bartolo_--Not a soul. My servants are all tired out. Señorita Rosina has shut herself up in a rage! The very devil's to pay in this house. Still I'll go and make sure. [_He goes to peep into Rosina's room_.]

_Count_ [_aside_]--Well, I've caught myself now in my own trap. Now what shall I do about the letter? If I were to run off?--but then I might just as well not have come. Shall I show it to him? If I could only warn Rosina beforehand! To show it would be a master-stroke.

_Bartolo_ [_returning on tiptoe_]--She's sitting by the window with her back to the door, and re-reading a cousin's letter which I opened. Now, now--let me see hers.

_Count_ [_handing him Rosina's letter_]--Here it is. [_Aside._] She's re-reading _my_ letter.

_Bartolo_ [_reads quickly_]--"Since you have told me your name and estate--" Ah, the little traitress! Yes, it's her writing.

_Count_ [_frightened_]--Speak low yourself, won't you?

_Bartolo_--What for, if you please?

_Count_--When we've finished, you can do as you choose. But after all, Don Basilio's negotiation with a lawyer--

_Bartolo_--With a lawyer? About my marriage?

_Count_--Would I have stopped you for anything else? He told me to say that all can be ready to-morrow. Then, if she resists--

_Bartolo_--She will.

_Count_ [_wants to take back the letter; Bartolo clutches it_]--I'll tell you what we'll do. We will show her her letter; and then, if necessary, [_more mysteriously_] I'll even tell her that it was given to me by a woman--to whom the Count is sacrificing her. Shame and rage may bring her to terms on the spot.

_Bartolo_ [_laughing_]--Calumny, eh? My dear fellow, I see very well now that you come from Basilio. But lest we should seem to have planned this together, don't you think it would be better if she'd met you before?

_Count_ [_repressing a start of joy_]--Don Basilio thought so, I know. But how can we manage it? It is late already. There's not much time left.

_Bartolo_--I will tell her you've come in his place. Couldn't you give her a lesson?

_Count_--I'll do anything you like. But take care she doesn't suspect. All these dodges of pretended masters are rather old and theatrical.

_Bartolo_--She won't suspect if I introduce you. But how you do look! You've much more the air of a disguised lover than of a zealous student-friend.

_Count_--Really? Don't you think I can hoodwink her all the better for that?

_Bartolo_--She'll never guess. She's in a horrible temper this evening. But if she'll only see you--Her harpsichord is in this room. Amuse yourself while you're waiting. I'll do all I can to bring her here.

_Count_--Don't say a word about the letter.

_Bartolo_--Before the right moment? It would lose all effect if I did. It's not necessary to tell me things twice; it's not necessary to tell me things twice. [_He goes._]

_Count_ [_alone, soliloquizes_]--At last I've won! Ouf! What a difficult little old imp he is! Figaro understands him. I found myself lying, and that made me awkward; and he has eyes for everything! On my honor, if the letter hadn't inspired me he'd have thought me a fool!--Ah, how they are disputing in there!--What if she refuses to come? Listen--If she won't, my coming is all thrown away. There she is: I won't show myself at first.

[_Rosina enters_.]

_Rosina_ [_angrily_]--There's no use talking about it, sir. I've made up my mind. I don't want to hear anything more about music.

_Bartolo_--But, my child, do listen! It is Señor Alonzo, the friend and pupil of Don Basilio, whom he has chosen as one of our marriage witnesses. I'm sure that music will calm you.

_Rosina_--Oh! you needn't concern yourself about that; and as for singing this evening--Where is this master you're so afraid of dismissing? I'll settle him in a minute--and Señor Basilio too. [_She sees her lover and exclaims_:] Ah!

_Bartolo_--Eh, eh, what is the matter?

_Rosina_ [_pressing her hands to her heart_]--Ah, sir! Ah, sir!

_Bartolo_--She is ill again! Señor Alonzo!

_Rosina_--No, I am not ill--but as I was turning--ah!

_Count_--Did you sprain your foot, Madame?

_Rosina_--Yes, yes, I sprained my foot! I--hurt myself dreadfully.

_Count_--So I perceived.

_Rosina_ [_looking at the Count_]--The pain really makes me feel faint.

_Bartolo_--A chair--a chair there! And not a single chair here! [_He goes to get one_.]

_Count_--Ah, Rosina!

_Rosina_--What imprudence!

_Count_--There are a hundred things I must say to you.

_Rosina_--He won't leave us alone.

_Count_--Figaro will help us.

_Bartolo_ [_bringing an arm-chair_]--Wait a minute, my child. Sit down here. She can't take a lesson this evening, Señor: you must postpone it. Good-by.

_Rosina_ [_to the Count_]--No, wait; my pain is better. [_To Bartolo_.] I feel that I've acted foolishly! I'll imitate you, and atone at once by taking my lesson.

_Bartolo_--Oh! Such a kind little woman at heart! But after so much excitement, my child, I can't let you make any exertion. So good-bye, Señor, good-bye.

_Rosina_ [_to the Count_]--Do wait a minute! [_To Bartolo_.] I shall think that you don't care to please me if you won't let me show my regret by taking my lesson.

_Count_ [_aside to Bartolo_]--I wouldn't oppose her, if I were you.

_Bartolo_--That settles it, my love: I am so anxious to please you that I shall stay here all the time you are practicing.

_Rosina_--No, don't. I know you don't care for music.

_Bartolo_--It _will_ charm me this evening, I'm sure.

_Rosina [aside to the Count_]--I'm tormented to death!

_Count [taking a sheet of music from the stand_]--Will you sing this, Madame?

_Rosina_--Yes, indeed--it's a very pretty thing out of the opera 'The Useless Precaution.'

_Bartolo_--Why do you _always_ sing from 'The Useless Precaution'?

_Count_--There is nothing newer! It's a picture of spring in a very bright style. So if Madame wants to try it--

_Rosina [looking at the Count_]--With pleasure. A picture of spring is delightful! It is the youth of nature. It seems as if the heart always feels more when winter's just over. It's like a slave who finds liberty all the more charming after a long confinement.

_Bartolo [to the Count_]--Always romantic ideas in her head!

_Count [in a low tone_]--Did you notice the application?

_Bartolo_--Zounds!

_[He sits down in the chair which Rosina has been occupying. Rosina sings, during which Bartolo goes to sleep. Under cover of the refrain the Count seizes Rosina's hand and covers it with kisses. In her emotion she sings brokenly, and finally breaks off altogether. The sudden silence awakens Bartolo. The Count starts up, and Rosina quickly resumes her song_.]

* * * * *

_[Don Basilio enters. Figaro in background_.]

_Rosina [startled, to herself_]--Don Basilio!

_Count [aside]_--Good Heaven!

_Figaro_--The devil!

_Bartolo [going to meet him_]--Ah! welcome, Basilio. So your accident was not very serious? Alonzo quite alarmed me about you. He will tell you that I was just going to see you, and if he had not detained me--

_Basilio [in astonishment_]--Señor Alonzo?

_Figaro [stamping his foot_]--Well, well! How long must I wait? Two hours wasted already over your beard--Miserable business!

_Basilio [looking at every one in amazement_]--But, gentlemen, will you please tell me--

_Figaro_--You can talk to him after I've gone.

_Basilio_--But still, would--

_Count_--You'd better be quiet, Basilio. Do you think you can inform him of anything new? I've told him that you sent me for the music lesson instead of coming himself.

_Basilio [still more astonished]_--The music lesson! Alonzo!

_Rosina [aside to Basilio]--Do_ hold your tongue, can't you?

_Basilio_--She, too!

_Count [to Bartolo]_--Let him know what you and I have agreed upon.

_Bartolo [aside to Basilio]_--Don't contradict, and say that he is not your pupil, or you will spoil everything.

_Basilio_--Ah! Ah!

_Bartolo [aloud]_--Indeed, Basilio, your pupil has a great deal of talent.

_Basilio [stupefied]_--My pupil! [_In a low tone_.] I came to tell you that the Count has moved.

_Bartolo [low]_--I know it. Hush.

_Basilio [low]_--Who told you?

_Bartolo [low]_--He did, of course.

_Count [low]_--It was I, naturally. Just listen, won't you?

_Rosina [low to Basilio]_--Is it so hard to keep still?

_Figaro [low to Basilio]_--Hum! The sharper! He is deaf!

_Basilio [aside]_--Who the devil are they trying to deceive here? Everybody seems to be in it!

_Bartolo [aloud]_--Well, Basilio--about your lawyer--?

_Figaro_--You have the whole evening to talk about the lawyer.

_Bartolo [to Basilio]_--One word; only tell me if you are satisfied with the lawyer.

_Basilio [startled]_--With the lawyer?

_Count [smiling]_--Haven't you seen the lawyer?

_Basilio [impatient]_--Eh? No, I haven't seen the lawyer.

_Count [aside to Bartolo]_--Do you want him to explain matters before her? Send him away.

_Bartolo [low to the Count]_--You are right. [_To Basilio_.] But what made you ill, all of a sudden?

_Basilio [angrily]_--I don't understand you.

_Count [secretly slipping a purse into his hands]_--Yes: he wants to know what you are doing here, when you are so far from well?

_Figaro_--He's as pale as a ghost!

_Basilio_--Ah! I understand.

_Count_--Go to bed, dear Basilio. You are not at all well, and you make us all anxious. Go to bed.

_Figaro_--He looks quite upset. Go to bed.

_Bartolo_--I'm sure he seems feverish. Go to bed.

_Rosina_--Why did you come out? They say that it's catching. Go to bed.

_Basilio [in the greatest amazement]_--I'm to go to bed!

_All the others together_--Yes, you must.

_Basilio [looking at them all]_--Indeed, I think I will have to withdraw. I don't feel quite as well as usual.

_Bartolo_--We'll look for you to-morrow, if you are better.

_Count_--I'll see you soon, Basilio.

_Basilio [aside]_--Devil take it if I understand all this! And if it weren't for this purse--

_All_--Good-night, Basilio, good-night.

_Basilio [going]_--Very well, then; good-night, _good-night_.

[_The others, all laughing, push him civilly out of the room_.]

FROM 'THE MARRIAGE OF FIGARO'

OUTWITTING A HUSBAND

[The scene is the boudoir of young Countess Almaviva, the Rosina of the previous selection. She is seated alone, when her clever maid Susanna ushers in the young page Cherubino, just banished from the house because obnoxious to the jealous Count.]

_Susanna_--Here's our young Captain, Madame.

_Cherubino [timidly]_--The title is a sad reminder that--that I must leave this delightful home and the godmother who has been so kind--

_Susanna--And_ so beautiful!

_Cherubino [sighing]_--Ah, yes!

_Susanna [mocking his sigh]_--Ah, yes! Just look at his hypocritical eyelids! Madame, make him sing his new song. [_She gives it to him_.] Come now, my beautiful bluebird, sing away.

_Countess_--Does the manuscript say who wrote this--song?

_Susanna_--The blushes of guilt betray him.

_Cherubino_--Madame, I--I--tremble so.

_Susanna_--Ta, ta, ta, ta--! Come, modest author--since you are so commanded. Madame, I'll accompany him.

_Countess [to Susanna]_--Take my guitar.

_[Cherubino sings his ballad to the air of 'Malbrouck.' The Countess reads the words of it from his manuscript, with an occasional glance at him; he sometimes looks at her and sometimes lowers his eyes as he sings. Susanna, accompanying him, watches them both, laughing.]_

_Countess [folding the song]_--Enough, my boy. Thank you. It is very good--full of feeling--

_Susanna_--Ah! as for feeling--this is a young man who--well!

_[Cherubino tries to stop her by catching hold of her dress. Susanna whispers to him]_--Ah, you good-for-nothing! I'm going to tell her. _[Aloud.]_ Well--Captain! We'll amuse ourselves by seeing how you look in one of my dresses!

_Countess_--Susanna, how _can_ you go on so?

_Susanna [going up to Cherubino and measuring herself with him]_--He's just the right height. Off with your coat. _[She draws it off.]_

_Countess_--But what if some one should come?

_Susanna_--What if they do? We're doing no wrong. But I'll lock the door, just the same. _[Locks it.]_ I want to see him in a woman's head-dress!

_Countess_--Well, you'll find my little cap in my dressing-room on the toilet table.

_[Susanna gets the cap, and then, sitting down on a stool, she makes Cherubino kneel before her and arranges it on his hair.]_

_Susanna_--Goodness, isn't he a pretty girl? I'm jealous. Cherubino, you're altogether _too_ pretty.

_Countess_--Undo his collar a little; that will give a more feminine air. [_Susanna loosens his collar so as to show his neck_.] Now push up his sleeves, so that the under ones show more. [_While Susanna rolls up Cherubino's sleeves, the Countess notices her lost ribbon around his wrist_.] What is that? My ribbon?

_Susanna_--Ah! I'm very glad you've seen it, for I told him I should tell. I should certainly have taken it away from him if the Count hadn't come just then; for I am almost as strong as he is.

_Countess [with surprise, unrolling the ribbon]_--There's blood on it!

_Cherubino_--Yes, I was tightening the curb of my horse this morning, he curvetted and gave me a push with his head, and the bridle stud grazed my arm.

_Countess_--I never saw a ribbon used as a bandage before.

_Susanna_--Especially a _stolen_ ribbon. What may all those things be--the curb, the curvetting, the bridle stud? [_Glances at his arms_.] What white arms he has! just like a woman's. Madame, they are whiter than mine.

_Countess_--Never mind that, but run and find me some oiled silk.

[_Susanna goes out, after humorously pushing Cherubino over so that he falls forward on his hands. He and the Countess look at each other for some time; then she breaks the silence_.]

_Countess_--I hope you are plucky enough. Don't show yourself before the Count again to-day. We'll tell him to hurry up your commission in his regiment.

_Cherubino_--I already have it, Madame. Basilio brought it to me. [_He draws the commission from his pocket and hands it to her_.]

_Countess_--Already! They haven't lost any time. [_She opens it._] Oh, in their hurry they've forgotten to add the seal to it.

_Susanna [returning with the oiled silk]_--Seal what?

_Countess_--His commission in the regiment.

_Susanna_--Already?

_Countess_--That's what I said.

_Susanna_--And the bandage?

_Countess_--Oh, when you are getting my things, take a ribbon from one of _your_ caps. [_Susanna goes out again_]

_Countess_--This ribbon is of my favorite color. I must tell you I was greatly displeased at your taking it.

_Cherubino_--That one would heal me quickest.

_Countess_--And--why so?

_Cherubino_--When a ribbon--has pressed the head, and--touched the skin of one--

_Countess [hastily]_--Very strange--then it can cure wounds? I never heard that before. I shall certainly try it on the first wound of any of--my maids--

_Cherubino [sadly]_--I must go away from here!

_Countess_--But not for always? [_Cherubino begins to weep._] And now you are crying! At that prediction of Figaro?

_Cherubino_--I'm just where he said I'd be. [_Some one knocks on the door_].

_Countess_--Who can be knocking like that?

_The Count [outside]_--Open the door!

_Countess_--Heavens! It's my husband. Where can you hide?

_The Count [outside]_--Open the door, I say.

_Countess_--There's no one here, you see.

_The Count_--But who are you talking to then?

_Countess_--To you, I suppose. [_To Cherubino._] Hide yourself, quick--in the dressing-room!

_Cherubino_--Ah, after this morning, he'd kill me if he found me _here_.

[_He runs into the dressing-room on the right, which is also Susanna's room; the Countess, after locking him in and taking the key, admits the Count._]

_Count_--You don't usually lock yourself in, Madame.

_Countess_--I--I--was gossiping with Susanna. She's gone. [_Pointing to her maid's room._]

_Count_--And you seem very much agitated, Madame.

_Countess_--Not at all, I assure you! We were talking about you. She's just gone--as I told you.

_Count_--I must say, Madame, you and I seem to be surrounded by spiteful people. Just as I'm starting for a ride, I'm handed a note which informs me that a certain person whom I suppose far enough away is to visit you this evening.

_Countess_--The bold fellow, whoever he is, will have to come here, then; for I don't intend to leave my room to-day.

[_Something falls heavily in the dressing-room where Cherubino is._]

_Count_--Ah, Madame, something dropped just then!

_Countess_--I didn't hear anything.

_Count_--You must be very absent-minded, then. Somebody is in that room!

_Countess_--Who do you think could be there?

_Count_--Madame, that is what I'm asking _you_. I have just come in.

_Countess_--Probably it's Susanna wandering about.

_Count [pointing]_--But you just told me that she went that way.

_Countess_--This way or that--I don't know which.

_Count_--Very well, Madame, I must see her.--Come here, Susanna.