SOURCE: “Sparkling Gaiety” and “Conclusion,” in Beaumarchais, Twayne Publishers, 1974, pp. 80-103.

[In the excerpt below, Sungolowsky analyzes the plot, characters, and meaning of The Marriage of Figaro,arguing that the work is both complex and unified.]

The overwhelming success which greeted the Mariage de Figaro when it was finally presented on the French stage should be viewed as an accurate appraisal of Beaumarchais's dramatic genius. One of the longest plays of the French theater, it is also one of the most complex. In composing it, Beaumarchais not only devised a complicated intrigue but he exposed the mores of his times, designed types, introduced emotional episodes, and raised social and political issues. All these elements are combined to create an eventful action which takes place in a single “mad day,” which is the subtitle of the play. In dealing with such a diversity of genres, Beaumarchais could not avoid many scenes, events, and tirades that prove to be extraneous to the main action. Yet, he succeeded in creating an atmosphere of sparkling gaiety which gives the play both unity and originality. Our concern here is to elucidate the complicated plot, to evaluate the characters, and to reassess the multiple significance of Beaumarchais's masterpiece.

I THE PREFACE

After the Mariage had been performed for nearly a year, Beaumarchais wrote a preface to defend the morality of his play. He writes that the function of theater is to correct vices. Failure to view it in such perspective could result in draining the repertoire of the great classic masterpieces as well as in restraining the talent of the actors. Beaumarchais asserts that his play has a corrective intent thereby hoping to put an end to the degradation of the theater.

Beaumarchais then reviews his career as a playwright from the point of view of morality. If Eugénie was well received, it is because he had the courage to depict the baseness of a man who uses his reputation to seduce a helpless young woman. Les Deux Amis also teaches a moral lesson insofar as it shows a father who is sincere enough to admit to his so-called niece that she is actually his illegitimate daughter. Although “frank gaiety” is restored with the Barbier de Séville, people tell Beaumarchais: “Why don't you write more such plays since you are the only one who dares to laugh off vices with frankness.”

Le Mariage de Figaro does not violate ethics in any of its aspects. Beaumarchais is certain that critics would have received it better had it been some grave drama. Yet, its gentle intrigue conceals a profound morality under its joyful atmosphere. None of the characters can be said to behave immorally. Count Almaviva is shown constantly frustrated in his plans to seduce women. The countess outwits her husband only to make him more aware of his marital duties. Even if she does not remain indifferent toward the affection shown to her by Chérubin, she retains her dignity by mastering her feelings. As the target of the count's pursuit, Suzanne acts with a clear conscience as she warns her future husband Figaro and the countess, who might have become victims of the situation otherwise, of the count's intentions. Figaro cannot be regarded as dishonest when circumstances force him to use all his cunning in order to rescue his happiness. Neither can Chérubin be condemned for repeatedly expressing his affection for the countess, as he is still a child. In fact, his presence in the play constantly serves to remind the count of his guilt. Marceline may seem immoral as a result of her former liaison with Bartholo of which Figaro was born. Yet, she greatly redeems herself by reminding the audience that she yielded in a moment of weakness and by warning helpless women against vile seducers.

Beaumarchais claims that he never intended to criticize the established order. In portraying a frivolous nobleman, he did not mean to satirize the aristocracy as a whole, for which he always had high regard, but rather the individual who damages his reputation as an aristocrat. He explains that when Figaro says: “To accept, to take, and to demand—there is the courtier's secret in three words,” he means to define solely the unscrupulous courtier. Through the character of Brid'oison, Beaumarchais did not wish to attack judges in general but only those who abuse their power as representatives of justice. Nor did he intend to attack the military when Figaro says that he does not want to resemble a blindly obedient soldier. All he meant was that man should be able to enjoy his freedom. By having the countess say that she wishes to end her life at the convent of the “Ursulines,” Beaumarchais did not wish to deride that particular religious order, since the choice of the name was a pure matter of chance. As for Figaro's monologue, even it it contains some daring truths concerning men who exert power, it should by no means raise concern, for, according to Beaumarchais, the king and his political regime are enlightened enough to allow the criticism of genuine oppressors.

The preface also contains some remarks about the art of the play. Beaumarchais asserts that its style is deliberately diversified as each character speaks in his own manner under particular circumstances. Beaumarchais praises its unfailing gaiety, its lively dialogue, its smooth intrigue “whose art conceals its artfulness, which tangles and untangles unceasingly through a host of comic situations and of piquant and varied tableaux, which sustain without fatiguing the attention of the audience during the three and a half hours the spectacle consumes (an attempt that no man of letters ever made before). …” Finally, Beaumarchais extols the universality of the play which depicts in no way the mores of his day but rather those of former and future times.

II SOME POSSIBLE INFLUENCES ON LE MARIAGE DE FIGARO

As Beaumarchais's comedy deals with a variety of themes, one can only mention some of the works which may have influenced it. On the theme of the lord's right to the first wedding night, Voltaire had written a play entitled Le Droit du seigneur (1762). In La Précaution inutile, Scarron had written the story of a duchess who hides a lover into a closet and arranges his escape after she has overcome her husband's jealousy. This theme which was very popular in the eighteenth century is also the subject of La Gageure imprévue (1768), a one-act play by Sedaine. The lonely wife who is about to yield to a younger lover is the subject of several plays in the eighteenth century. One of them is Heureusement (1762) by Rochon de Chabannes, which Beaumarchais explicitly mentions in his preface as a source of his comedy. The satire of judges and justice goes back to the comedy of Aristophanes. It is the subject of Racine's Les Plaideurs. In the Mariage, judge Brid'oison recalls judge Bridoie in Rabelais's Tiers-Livre. A husband making love to his disguised wife whom he believes to be the girl he pursues is a widespread comic device in eighteenth-century comedy. It is the subject of Dufresny's Double Veuvage (1702) and Vadé's Trompeur trompé (1754). Chérubin, one of the most original characters of the play, resembles the hero of Le Petit Jehan de Saintré (1517), a novel by Antoine de La Salle re-edited by Gueullette in 1724. On the other hand, in creating Chérubin, Beaumarchais may have been inspired by observing his own environment, especially Petit-Louis or “cher Lubin”, a young page and musician who woos the duchess of Choiseul, who is neglected by her husband.¹ The above review illustrates the literary background of the Mariage but does not account in any way for Beaumarchais's power of imagination in composing it.

III THE FIRST ACT

At the castle of Aguas-Frescas, Figaro, the servant of Count Almaviva, is in love with Suzanne, the countess' chambermaid, and is about to marry her in the course of the day. Figaro learns from his fiancée that he must not consider himself a joyful groom. Indeed, Bazile, the agent of the count's pleasures, has informed her that the count seeks to obtain from her the lord's privilege of the first night for which he is willing to compensate by a dowry. Suzanne feels that there is no time for lovemaking until Figaro meets such a challenge. Although he knows that thwarting the count's desires is no easy matter, he realizes that quick action is imperative. Invigorated by his love, Figaro decides upon his plans for the day. He will set an earlier hour for the marriage ceremony to make sure that it will take place, ward off Marceline, who is too fond of him, get all the money and presents in his hands, and give Bazile a good thrashing.

A rivalry exists between Marceline and Suzanne over Figaro. Marceline wishes him to fulfill a marriage commitment he made to her for failure to pay her a debt. To this end, she has asked Bartholo, her former lover, to help her win the servant. As for herself, she will spread the rumor concerning the count's pursuit of Suzanne, expecting the latter to refuse the count's advances as she wishes to maintain an honorable reputation. Consequently, the count will oppose Suzanne's marriage to Figaro out of frustration and favor Marceline's.

Enters Chérubin, the count's page. He seeks Suzanne's sympathy over his dismissal from the castle ordered by the count, who discovered him in the room of Fanchette, the daughter of the gardener Antonio, who happens to be Suzanne's uncle. An adolescent awakening to love, Chérubin is not content with Fanchette but also courts Suzanne and even Marceline. Above all, he has come to tell Suzanne that he is fond of the countess whom he finds noble and beautiful but “so distant” (I, 7). As observed by Guy Michaud, we have here an intrigue where Chérubin is three times the rival of the count, who, while pursuing Fanchette and Suzanne, has by no means renounced his wife.² Failing to approach the countess, Chérubin takes from Suzanne a ribbon belonging to her mistress. As Suzanne tries to retrieve it, the count enters leaving both Suzanne and Chérubin stricken with fright. All the page has time to do is hide in back of a big armchair, which is the only piece of furniture in the room.

Almaviva is more than pleased to find Suzanne alone. He mentions to her the matter of the droit du seigneur which he would like to discuss with her later in the evening. This is the famous and lively “armchair scene.” In order to hide Chérubin better, Suzanne has placed herself between him and the count. As they are conversing, Bazile enters. The count, who does not wish to be seen speaking with Suzanne, seeks a hiding place and does not find a better one than behind the armchair. While he is about to place himself there, Chérubin turns about and throws himself into the armchair in a curled-up position. Thereupon, Suzanne covers him with one of the countess' dresses she is carrying. As pointed out by Jacques Schérer, the performance of all these actions in a matter of seconds is a brilliant experiment in theatrical physics. If the stage is the “first location,” Chérubin has moved into a “third location” from a second one now occupied by the count.³ Furthermore, as pointed out by Guy Michaud, the count is forced into a ridiculous and hence comic position, because he is obliged to hide.⁴

Comic tension is further heightened in the scene when Bazile speaks of the count's intention to an indignant Suzanne. He suggests that she submit to the count all the more since she is also being pursued by the page, who, besides, publicizes his love for the countess. Upon hearing such news related by Bazile, the count jumps to his feet and orders the definite dismissal of the page. Almaviva takes the opportunity to tell Suzanne how he discovered Chérubin hidden behind a curtain in Fanchette's room. Reenacting the scene for Suzanne, he lifts the dress off the armchair thereby finding himself once again face to face with the page. Suzanne explains that Chérubin had come to ask her to intervene with the countess on his behalf. In so doing, she is forced to enlighten the count on the movements around the armchair. To conceal his embarrassment, the count asserts himself by declaring that he cannot allow Figaro to marry Suzanne, who is evidently unfaithful.

The count is unable to take this last decision seriously, because he is met by his entire household and the people of his jurisdiction who, under the leadership of Figaro, have gathered to ask him for the official abolition of the droit du seigneur. As their request is being wholeheartedly supported by the countess, the count must yield to the pressure. Although this is one of Figaro's victories, the count still hopes to hinder his marriage to Suzanne by substituting Marceline for her. It is under the same pressure that the count is asked to forgive Chérubin. Almaviva yields again but is not wholly defeated as his pardon consists of granting the page an officer's commission that will estrange him from the castle just as well. Figaro understands this and outwits the count by instructing the page to ostensibly leave the castle on horseback but to return on foot through the back way.

IV THE SECOND ACT

In the words of Jean Meyer, the second act “is the perfect act, a one-act play in itself.”⁵ The decor here is essential. It consists of a splendid bedroom, with a large bed in an alcove, an entry door on the right, the door of a closet at left, a door at the back, and a window.

Suzanne's revelations make the countess aware of Chérubin's feeling toward her and of the extent to which she is being neglected by the count. Giving way to emotion, she reproaches herself for having wearied her husband with her love. On the other hand, she wishes to see her maid's marriage come about and will cooperate with Figaro to this end. He soon arrives with a plan that he outlines to the two women. First, he announces that he has given to Bazile an anonymous note warning the count that a gallant wishes to see the countess during the ball that is to take place in the evening. Secondly, he enjoins Suzanne to accept the private meeting sought by the count, since he will substitute for her Chérubin disguised as a girl. Although the countess realizes that the initiative taken by Figaro is damaging to her reputation, she is willing to support the plan, for Suzanne declares that “one may rely upon him to conduct an intrigue” (II, 2).

The arrival of Chérubin is a pleasant interlude for the sad countess who is tacitly delighted to see herself as the object of his admiration. Prompted by Suzanne, he bashfully sings a medieval romance in which a page grieves over the loss of his godmother, a situation akin to his. In a sequence of short scenes penetrated with a delicate sensuality, the women are seen fussing over the page's feminine disguise. As the countess discovers the stolen ribbon on his arm, she retrieves it and orders Suzanne to replace it with another one. Thus, she is discreetly in possession of a token of the page's love.

The soothing calmness of this atmosphere is troubled by the unexpected arrival of the count, who knocks on the door of the bedroom. While Suzanne is busy in a back room, Chérubin and the countess are stricken with fright. While the countess tarries in opening the door, the page throws himself into the closet of which she retains the key. The count tells his wife about the note that was handed to him by Bazile. She calms his fears by informing him that she has no intention of leaving the room for the rest of the day due to some indisposition. But when Chérubin knocks over a chair in the closet, the count's suspicion is rekindled, and he demands to examine its interior. In this highly tense moment, the countess has no alternative but to lie. She says that the closet cannot be opened because Suzanne is standing in it half-dressed. Realizing that it would be useless to ask his wife for the key to the closet, the count decides to fetch the necessary tools to break it open. To make sure that no one will enter or leave the room in his absence, he locks its back and entry doors and requests his wife to accompany him. In the course of that scene, Suzanne has reentered the bedroom through the back door and, upon witnessing the situation, has time to throw herself into the alcove unseen by the count. The departure of the count and countess enables her to substitute herself in the closet for Chérubin, who has barely time to jump through the window.⁶

In view of the count's firmness, the countess must admit what she believes to be the truth at the time, namely, that Chérubin is in the closet. Angered by the recurring presence of the page, the count threatens to kill him. Such furor brings the countess down to her knees as she intercedes for the life of Chérubin. Then, she gives the key to the closet to the count, who, upon opening it, finds Suzanne walking out of it laughing.⁷ The count can only marvel at his wife's capacity to feign emotion and distress. He tries to apologize for his outburst by explaining to her that the note he received from Bazile had greatly disturbed him. Relieved at the happy outcome of such a dangerous situation, the countess, in a moment of thoughtlessness, admits to her husband that it was Figaro who handed the note to Bazile. In any case, the count is intent upon being pardoned by his wife, and it is his turn to beg for forgiveness.

With the arrival of Figaro, the dramatic tension heightens again. Ignoring the previous sequence of events, he is at a loss when the count asks him to explain the origins of Bazile's note. He tries to wrangle himself out of this embarrassing situation by playing on words and suggesting even that no credence should be given to whatever is being said. Then, the gardener Antonio arrives complaining that his flowerbeds have been destroyed by a man, looking like the page, whom he has seen jumping from the window. At this point, Figaro intervenes to say that it is he who jumped and denies Antonio's hypothesis by reminding him that the page has been sent away to the army. If so, Antonio wishes to return to Figaro a paper which fell out of the pocket of the man who jumped. The count seizes the paper which is nothing else but the officer's commission belonging to Chérubin. In a series of rapid asides, the countess informs Suzanne that the count is holding the officer's commission, which lacks his seal. This information, relayed to Figaro by Suzanne in another series of asides, enables him to argue that Chérubin left the document with him for the count to approve it. According to Jean Meyer, these scenes involving Figaro are to be played slowly to show how much “he stumbles at ever step.”⁸

The count resents Figaro's cunning and admits in an aside that he “is at the bottom of everything” (II, 21). Therefore, Almaviva is elated when Marceline arrives claiming her right to marry the servant. He orders that preparations be made forthwith to have the matter examined at a court session over which he will preside. As he denies Bazile's claim to marry Marceline, it is clear that he intends to decide in her favor.

At the conclusion of the act, Figaro is at a further disadvantage when the countess, weary of his previous initiatives, devises her own plan to confound her husband and instructs Suzanne not to reveal it to her fiancé. It is she who will go to the meeting that her husband seeks with the maid.

V THE THIRD ACT

Reflecting upon the events, the count is seized with a deep suspicion. Where is Chérubin? Who is the author of the note? Why did Suzanne have to lock herself up in the closet? Who really jumped from the window? Why did the countess show in turn great distress and simulated joy? Above all, did Suzanne reveal the secret of the meeting he so ardently desires? Sounding out Figaro on this point is necessary. If the servant accepts to accompany him to London, where he was appointed an ambassador, it will mean that Suzanne has not spoken. If he refuses, she did speak, for he shows thereby that he seeks to keep his future wife away from his master. Thus, Almaviva first informs Figaro that he will not take him along since he does not know English. The servant replies, in the famous “God-dam tirade,”⁹ that knowing the word “God-dam,” “the core of the English language” (III, 5), he will get along fine. The count feels reassured. However, Figaro, who realizes that his master is sounding him out, quickly adds that, on the other hand, he is very pleased with his position at the castle. Going to London would force him to leave his wife behind too often. Besides, the hypocrisy of politics does not appeal to him. In this battle of wits, Figaro gains no advantage, for he has now led the count to believe that Suzanne has spoken. Therefore, Almaviva is determined to favor Marceline's claim.

When Suzanne seductively informs the count that she is acceding to his request, he envisions a favorable outcome for Figaro. Indeed, with the dowry she would receive in exchange for the droit du seigneur, he would be able to pay Marceline. However, the possibility of such a happy ending is quickly reversed, as Suzanne thoughtlessly tells her fiancé within the count's earshot: “You have just won your suit” (III, 10). Thus, the count reverts to his original intention to hinder Figaro's marriage. Should the latter find other resources to pay Marceline, Almaviva would ask Antonio to oppose the marriage of his niece to Figaro, a man of unknown parentage.

The episode of the trial is rightly considered a pure fantasy on Beaumarchais's part, since it is extraneous to the main action of the play and, moreover, does not even depict the judicial system of the time. As observed by Félix Gaiffe, it is merely a satire on the numerous trials that wearied Beaumarchais's life from 1770 to 1778.¹⁰ It remains, however, a very amusing interlude. Beaumarchais introduces Don Guzman (an allusion to Goezman) Brid'oison, the stuttering judge who is excessively formalistic and stupid to the point of not understanding Figaro's telling him that he fathered his child. There is also Double-Main (“Double-Hand”), the judge's greedy secretary, who is also the clerk of the court and the ever-yelping usher.

The importance of this court is evidently diminished by the fact that the count retains the sole authority to make a final judgment. Legal minutiae are also mocked when the question arises whether Figaro promised “to pay and marry” or “to pay or marry” Marceline. As the clerk is unable to read the blotted passage of the document, Bartholo, who defends Marceline, argues for the first version, whereas Figaro maintains that he wrote the second. The litigation is solved by the count whose decision is apparently fair but suited to his own purpose: within the day, Figaro must either pay or marry Marceline.

The servant now tries to escape the verdict by arguing that he cannot enter a marriage without consulting his parents, for whom he has been searching and is about to find. As he mentions a mark imprinted on his arm at birth, Marceline recognizes in him a son she bore of a liaison with Bartholo. This is the recognition scene by which Beaumarchais meant to touch his audiences. Yet, it is also useful from the dramatic point of view for it eliminates at last the count's pretext for hindering his servant's marriage. When Bartholo persists in his refusal to marry Marceline, she chides him and all men who seduce helpless girls. Bartholo's attitude still makes possible Antonio's opposition to the marriage, as Figaro remains without a father. However, Marceline rightfully points out that Figaro can look forward to his future happiness with Suzanne, who is to reach her majority soon and will thus be able to free herself of Antonio's guardianship. The brief misunderstanding which arises when Suzanne sees her fiancé embrace Marceline, whom she still believes to be her rival, is merely meant to introduce to Suzanne Marceline as Figaro's mother. At the end of the act, Bartholo is almost willing to marry Marceline. In addition to being exempt from paying Marceline, Figaro is enriched by a purse originally given to Suzanne by the countess to pay Marceline. Consequently, the count rightly observes that everything conspires against him.

VI THE FOURTH ACT

Viewing their future happiness, Figaro and Suzanne recapitulate the events and speak of their love. Figaro proclaims love to be a truth powerful enough to defy all others and he seeks of his fiancée a promise of unbounded affection. In his exaltation, he obtains from her a commitment not to go to the meeting still desired by the count. Consequently, the maid informs her mistress that it will not take place. For a moment, the countess is distressed. She asks her maid to help her reconquer her husband by merely inviting him to a meeting to which she herself will go disguised as Suzanne. The bond between the two women is too strong to loosen. Under her mistress' dictation, Suzanne writes to the count that she intends to meet him in the evening under the chestnut trees. The note is sealed with a pin which the count must send back with his reply.

As Bartholo has accepted to marry Marceline, preparations for his wedding party and that of Figaro are under way. Meanwhile, the girls of the town led by Fanchette have come to offer flowers to the countess. In the group is Chérubin disguised as a girl. The countess, who does not recognize him, gives him a kiss meant for the entire group. Chérubin is soon unmasked by Antonio in the presence of the count. Once again, the countess comes to the page's defense by explaining that he is merely playing a game which originated in her room prior to the closet episode. The count's anger toward Chérubin is milder than before, all the more since his promiscuity is revealed by Fanchette. She states that since he usually promises everything to her in exchange for her favors, she would like his consent to marry the page. Almaviva refuses to consider it, preferring to interrogate Figaro once more about the identity of the man who jumped from the window. As Antonio declares that the page admitted jumping, there is no alternative for Figaro but to turn the whole matter into a joke. He explains that both he and the page may have been seized with a jumping fit as were Panurge's sheep. All that remains for the count to do is to dismiss the page, again forbidding him to appear for the rest of the evening. Chérubin says that he could look forward to a dreary future if it were not for the kiss he received from the countess.

The double wedding party is momentarily interrupted by the untimely arrival of Bazile. He claims Marceline's hand according to a previous commitment on her part pending upon her finding a lost son that he is willing to adopt. As the whole matter is long disposed of, Beaumarchais's intention to make Bazile appear utterly ridiculous is evident. However, the altercation between Figaro and Bazile is an amusing scene of verbal acrobatics much practiced by Beaumarchais. Ultimately, Bazile remounces Marceline on his own, as he is horrified by the idea of having a son like Figaro.

Although the detailed indications given by Beaumarchais in the ninth scene have been omitted in Jean Meyer's staging,¹¹ they are essential insofar as they deal with the remaining intrigue to be solved, namely, the projected meeting between the count and Suzanne. As the maid adjusts the virginal cap she receives from the count during the wedding ceremony, she hands him surreptitiously the invitation to meet her. Figaro witnesses the count's delight and notices that he has pricked his finger with a pin. The servant rightly observes that his master is probably reading a billet-doux. At this point, however, Figaro has no other information about the current events. Upon meeting Fanchette running an errand, he surmises that it is not unrelated to the count's gallant adventure. In her childish naiveté, she readily admits to him that the count has asked her to hand Suzanne a pin and to tell her that it is “the seal for the big chestnut trees” (IV, 14). Jealousy soon fills Figaro's heart, although he has just declared to his mother that he is ready to forgive Suzanne any infidelity. As Marceline advises him not to take a mere suspicion as evidence, he tells her that he will see for himself by going to the meeting place. In an act of feminine solidarity, Marceline plans to inform Suzanne of her son's intention.

VII THE FIFTH ACT

The decor of this eventful last act represents a park of chestnut trees with two pavilions on either side while the stage is dark. Fanchette has come to the park where Chérubin has asked her to meet him. Upon seeing Figaro, she flees into the pavilion at the left. Her joyful nonchalance strongly contrasts with the somber mood of the servant who enters dressed like a conspirer in a cloak and a turned-down hat. As Figaro did at the end of the first act, he has gathered the entire household of the castle of Aguas-Frescas to witness the count caught in the act of seducing his bride. Schérer observes that Figaro has organized here a daring mass action intended to challenge feudal authority, for Bartholo aptly reminds him “that a wise man never meddles in the affairs of great people” (V, 2).¹²

Then Figaro embarks upon his famous monologue which can be divided into three parts. First, he reflects upon his situation. Suzanne is nothing but a deceitful woman whose reluctance to meet the count was a pure sham and who is about to break the pledge she has just made to him. Yet, the count should not think that he can seduce her just because he was privileged to have been born an aristocrat. Secondly, Figaro considers his destiny by giving a detailed account of his past life. A child of unknown parents, he was a jack-of-all-trades having met little success in any of them. Tired of being a veterinary and a barber, he became a playwright. As censorship destroyed him, he set about to write on economics. His ideas on this subject being judged subversive, he was thrown into prison. Upon regaining his freedom, he edited a paper which he called The Useless Journal, since it was forbidden to discuss nearly any topic. Such sarcasm caused him to be censored once more and consequently left unemployed. He was a little more successful as a gambler but was hardly allowed to exist by those who proved shrewder than he. He became a barber once more and met a former master whom he helped to get a wife and who now shows his gratitude by trying to seduce his own. Finally, Figaro reflects existentially upon his past, wondering why it has been such and not otherwise. He presents a dialectical self-portrait which encompasses all aspects of his conflicting personality. He ends his monologue by evoking again Suzanne to whom he says, “How you torment me!” (V, 3). As it is explained by Gaiffe, Figaro, in his monologue, thinks through an association of ideas which makes the connection between its three parts psychological rather than logical.¹³

The monologue has long been the subject of conflicting criticism.¹⁴ Sainte-Beuve thought that it turns Figaro into a pedant. For Sarcey it is a dramatic monstrosity which contributes nothing to the main action and unduly delays it. Brunetière, on the other hand, feels that the monologue is as integral a part of the play as Hamlet's. Such a view prevails, for Figaro, through his monologue, raises himself above the usual type of a comic valet.¹⁵

The lively games of mistaken identity that occupy the remainder of the act restore the comic tension that was suspended by the monologue. The countess enters disguised as Suzanne. The maid, who has been forewarned of Figaro's presence by Marceline and wishes to challenge his trust, has decided to accompany her mistress disguised in the latter's dress. Marceline, who wishes to observe the events, follows Fanchette in the pavilion at the left. While Figaro walks to one end of the stage waiting for the arrival of the count, Suzanne leaves her mistress and walks to the other. As the countess awaits the arrival of the count, she is met by Chérubin who seeks Fanchette. He rightly mistakes the countess for Suzanne and tells her that he will kiss her twenty times for her own sake and a hundred times for her mistress'. He justifies his audacity by explaining that he feels entitled to replace the count with her as she has replaced her mistress with the count. However, the kisses do not reach their destination, for the count arrives suddenly on the scene. This is enough of a reason for Chérubin to flee and seek refuge in the pavilion at the left.

As Figaro wishes to catch Chérubin in the act of seducing the countess disguised as Suzanne, he receives a blow given by the count, who thinks that he has hit the page. With the retreat of Figaro, the count is free to undertake his own seduction as it befits an experienced ladies' man. He tells the countess disguised as Suzanne that he finds her skin soft and smooth, her arm firm and well-rounded, her fingers pretty, graceful, and full of mischief. He says that he seeks pleasure rather than love. On being asked whether he no longer loves his wife, he replies that he does but has become weary of her affection. Pleasurable diversions are necessary, and with a touch of caprice, Suzanne could become “the most provoking mistress” (V, 8). Such pleasure is so priceless to him that he not only hands over to her the dowry but adds to it a diamond. All that is left is to make love, and he entices the disguised countess to accompany him into one of the pavilions. Figaro, who has followed the scene with dismay, steps forward to intervene. Upon seeing him, the count flees as the countess enters into the pavilion at the right.

The stage is now ready for a confrontation between the jealous Figaro and Suzanne disguised as the countess. He informs her that he is being betrayed by his bride, who has gone off with the count and that he is ready to call for help. As Suzanne, for a moment, fails to disguise her voice, he recognizes her. He masters the joy resulting from his profound relief and proposes a liaison that would duplicate that of the count. For such a suspicious and vindictive Figaro, Suzanne has only blows. At this point, he tells her that he happily accepts them as proof of her love. Unmasked, Suzanne informs him that the count has been courting none other than his own wife, and Figaro must admit that the planning of such a scheme goes far beyond his own ruse.

The count reappears and is about to enter the pavilion at the right in search of the disguised countess when he notices the disguised Suzanne being entertained by Figaro. When Almaviva hears his servant speaking about having jumped from the window, the enigma of the man hidden in the closet becomes clear to him. As the disguised Suzanne flees into the pavilion at the left, the count seizes Figaro and declares him under arrest. At first, the servant affects a simulated fright but soon displays a calmness that exasperates the count. Asked by his master to identify the lady he has just led to the pavilion, Figaro roguishly points to the pavilion at the right and, in turn, asks the count whether it is the one he means. When Almaviva replies that he means the one at the left, Figaro proceeds to identify the lady about whom he says, “I know that a great lord paid her certain attentions, but either because he neglects her, or because I please her better than a more lovable man, today she gave me the preference” (V, 12). Thus, there is no doubt in the count's mind as to the guilt of his wife.

At the door of the pavilion at the left, the count calls upon his wife to come out and admit her infidelity in the presence of the entire household of the castle. Believing that he has seized her, he realizes upon coming out that he holds none other then Chérubin. Ordered by the count to seize the countess, Antonio brings out Fanchette. Bartholo, who has offered to accomplish the mission, does not do much better, as he emerges with Marceline. When Suzanne comes out by herself falling upon her knees and hiding her face with her fan, all assembled fall to their knees and beseech the count to forgive the one they believe to be his wife. As he repeatedly refuses in his anger, the disguised countess emerges from the pavilion at the right and joins the others in falling on her knees. Thereupon, the count looks at both Suzanne and the countess, realizes their scheme, and admits, “I tried to deceive them, and they have played with me like a child” (V, 19). As for Figaro, he receives from the countess the dowry and the diamond.

The joyous vaudeville which closes the play is composed of ten couplets. In the first, Bazile praises Figaro who has gained a triple dowry and a splendid wife, and who harbors no jealousy toward the count or the page. In the second couplet, Suzanne decries the unjust domination of man over woman, and in the ninth, she sings of the gaiety of the play which also teaches a moral lesson. Figaro mocks a jealous husband in the third, insults Bartholo in the sixth and, in the seventh, extols wit that can overshadow inequality of birth. In the fourth, the countess praises the faithful wife, while, in the fifth, the count is more daring in singing of the one who can “play a merry game.” In the sixth, Marceline sings of him who can only be sure of being the son of his mother, while the rest is love's secret. In the eighth, Chérubin compares an audience to women. He says that one always seeks to please the former in the same way one cannot resist the latter. In the final couplet, Brid'oison says that the play just presented is a true image of life, where, despite justified complaints, everything ends in a song.

VIII THE CHARACTERS

Count Almaviva represents a typical eighteenth-century nobleman who likes to indulge in amorous adventures. However, self-esteem is a supreme aspect of his character. Therefore, he cannot bear that Suzanne opposes his advances or that his wife may be unfaithful to him. His eagerness to seduce one and watch the movements of the other turns him into a comic character, for he becomes the victim of both who succeed in outwitting him. Yet, Beaumarchais, who admired aristocracy, recommended that the role of the count “should be played with nobility.” Indeed, as a lord and master, Almaviva exercises an unequivocal authority that constantly threatens the projects of those who try to foil his intentions. At the end of the play, he gracefully accepts his defeat.

Figaro is the count's most direct opponent. To keep Suzanne away from his master, he must exploit all the resources of his wit. He does so in forcing the count to abolish, officially at least, the droit du seigneur, in inventing the infidelity of the countess, in retaining Chérubin at the castle, and in organizing two mass movements that challenge the authority of the count. In view of his position, there cannot be more concrete actions for him to undertake. In fact, he loses control of the intrigue, which is taken over by the countess when she decides to substitute herself for Suzanne. Thanks to his ruse and wit, he will always disentangle himself from embarrassing situations, and, rightfully perhaps, does the count look upon his actions with suspicion. Figaro becomes even somewhat ridiculous when, despite his assertions to the contrary, he yields to jealousy over Suzanne's supposed infidelity. Such weakness is largely compensated by his ability to transform this setback into a moment of profound introspection and his determination to stand up for his rights. At the end of the play, when he finds himself married to Suzanne, untouched by the count, and in possession of three dowries, it is indeed the work of fate as he himself admits.

As an abandoned wife, the countess is a moving character. She suffers with a dignity that befits her noble rank. Her sensitivity and emotional dismay appear at their best in the “closet episode.” When it ends happily at the expense of the count, it is no wonder that he sees in her a marvelous actress, since she was truly exposing her innermost self. Her affection for Chérubin is the natural response of a heart that intensely seeks the warmth of love. The nature of Chérubin's feelings are so akin to hers that she only renounces him at the very end of the play. Yet, she does not accept her fate passively. To regain her husband is her major concern, and, to this end, she takes a carefully planned initiative which is resourceful enough to sustain the action of the last three acts.

Suzanne is not only the lady in waiting of the countess but also her confidante. She reveals to her mistress the frivolous intentions of the count thereby enabling her to act. Perfect harmony exists between the two women so that when this harmony is momentarily threatened by Suzanne's hesitation to cooperate with the countess' project, they soon regret having antagonized each other. Knowing that Chérubin's gallantry is a pleasant diversion for her mistress, she encourages it tacitly. Her seductive capriciousness frustrates the count's desires when she eludes his pursuit but fills his heart with joy when she accepts to meet him. She is intent on becoming a faithful wife to Figaro and sternly frowns upon any suspicion he may have about her sincerity.

For Benedetto Croce, the character of Chérubin is a poetic masterpiece since he represents “the heightened amorous temperament, for which the highest ideal and vital principle are the love of love.”¹⁶ Although such a view is accurate, it remains idealistic and does not account for the dramatic function of Chérubin. The page is depicted as a youth who discovers love as shown by his boldness toward any woman. Because of the countess' social position, his feelings toward her take the form of a passionate respect, which is shown in the romance he sings for her and his persistence in retaining the ribbon he stole from her. Chérubin also symbolizes the sensuality that pervades the play, as he delights in roaming around women's quarters and toying with their clothes. He repeatedly finds himself in the count's way thereby reminding him of his frivolity, and, in a sense, he is the count's rival as he, too, pursues the countess, Suzanne, and Fanchette. As a junior officer, Chérubin is conscious of his honor, and he stands ready to challenge the count, who teases him about the slap he believes to have given to him in the park of the chestnut trees.

Marceline is chiefly concerned with finding a husband and defending women's rights. In this respect, she has rightly been described as an “overeager” female to the point of being comic.¹⁷ Until she recognizes Figaro as her son, she constitutes a strong obstacle to his marriage. As Suzanne's future mother-in-law, she warns her of Figaro's unfounded jealousy.

At first, Bartholo's role consists in defending Marceline's claim to marry Figaro. When this issue is eliminated, he himself marries her, thus solving her matrimonial problem as well as that of Figaro's legitimacy. As Figaro's father, he wisely reminds him to be careful in opposing a nobleman such as Almaviva.

Bazile loses the count's confidence when he fails to check the veracity of the note concerning the countess' infidelity. From this moment on, he is merely ridiculous as he utters banal proverbs and plays insipid music.

Brid'oison's legal authority is doubtful, as he insists on respecting formalities and considering as final decisions that are made by the count. Yet, despite his stupidity, he rightly observes in the course of the last act that the events of this “mad day” are all too confusing, and the play closes on a truthful observation made by him.

Antonio, the tipsy gardener, is lucid enough to force Figaro and Chérubin into embarrassing situations or to oppose the marriage of his niece Suzanne to the illegitimate Figaro. The naiveté of his daughter Fanchette is to be viewed as a precocious sensuality. She has learned much in the company of Chérubin and never refuses that of the count. It is thanks to her candid revelations that Figaro becomes aware of the projected meeting between the count and Suzanne.

Grippe-Soleil and Pédrille are overzealous servants of the count. By forbidding the first to set up the fireworks under the chestnut trees, the count saves his meeting place from a potential fire. In obeying the count's orders, the second does not understand that arresting Figaro is far more important than reporting on his vain search for Chérubin.

IX ORIGINALITY AND SIGNIFICANCE

Beaumarchais sacrifices verisimilitude again in the Mariage de Figaro, in which many questions remain unanswered. Why does Figaro allow himself to be outwitted by other characters and by Fate? What precise relationship existed formerly between Marceline and Figaro? Why is she so eager to marry the one who turns out to be her son? Why does not Suzanne save her bridegroom from an unfavorable verdict by paying Marceline earlier with the dowry offered by the countess? What does Figaro really gain by suddenly changing his mind about the count's proposal to go to London? Why does Almaviva accept Suzanne's proposal to meet him when he has serious reasons to mistrust her? Why does not Suzanne find a way to inform Figaro that she is substituting herself for her mistress?

Rigorous logic would undoubtedly have damaged the vivaciousness that results from Beaumarchais's own way of connecting and presenting the events. In constructing his complex intrigue, the author reaches the heights of comic imagination. Until the end of the play, one constantly wonders whether the advantage lies with Figaro or the count. Chérubin's reappearances constitute an example of a comic situation based on repetition. Peripeteia multiply themselves with unusual rapidity in the “armchair” or “closet” episodes. In the last act, the accumulation of unexpected occurrences is a resourceful comic device amid disguises, hiding-places, and darkness. An atmosphere of subtle voluptuousness hovers over the play where pins, ribbons, virginal togas, and feminine clothes become exquisite symbols of sensuality. When the stream of joy is occasionally suspended, it is replaced by touching scenes. Such are the episodes of Chérubin singing his romance before the countess or even that of Marceline finding her lost child.

In the Mariage de Figaro, the comic style largely consists of Beaumarchais's efforts to have each of his characters speak his own language. Its variety ranges from Figaro's unequaled verve to Grippe-Soleil's mispronounced words. Verbal exchanges and lively dialogues are frequent occasions for laughter in the trial scene, in meetings between Figaro and the count, or in those between Figaro and Bazile. Style becomes even delightfully precious when Figaro and Suzanne find the time to speak of their love. Even Figaro's monologue is a rare example of volubility, especially when one keeps in mind the fact that its previous versions were much longer. Although many episodes are unessential to the main action, they show Beaumarchais's ability to juggle with words and invent repartee.

Throughout the play, Figaro does not lose any opportunity to criticize aristocrats, and, in the very last scene, he has some harsh words for their manner of dispensing justice. Eighteenth-century audiences did not fail to see the far-reaching social and political implications of the Mariage amid its joyfulness. Most representative of them is the Baronne d'Oberkirch, who was angry with herself for having been amused by it. She writes: “… nobility showed a great want of tact in applauding it, which was nothing less than giving themselves a slap in the face. They laughed at their own expense, and what was worse they made others laugh too. They will repent it yet. …”¹⁸ Judging the work in retrospect, Napoleon thought that it portrayed “the Revolution in action.” Even today Beaumarchais's play is viewed as a vivid illustration of the class struggle.¹⁹

Critics have carefully weighed the theory of Beaumarchais as a revolutionary, and most of them discard it. Beaumarchais never meant to advocate the overthrow of the monarchy and its institutions. In his preface to the play, he specifically reasserted his respect for nobility by quoting from his own mémoires against La Blache, where he declares that “the right of birth should be the least contested of all.” In fact, Beaumarchais was himself a victim of the evils of the Revolution, having seen the magnificent house he had built opposite the Bastille repeatedly searched and eventually devastated, having barely escaped the guillotine, and having lived in exile as an émigré. In his comedy, Beaumarchais meant to attack merely excesses and abuses. Insofar as it claims the rights of the illegitimate child, of women, and of the individual to enjoy his freedom and to obtain a fair trial, it remains eternally universal.

The uniqueness of the Mariage de Figaro lies much in the profound relationship that exists between the work and the life of its author. Almaviva's frivolity is one that Beaumarchais himself pursued. The portrayal of feminine characters shows an insight into a woman's heart by someone who both loved women and was loved by them. There is much of the young Caron in the daring mischievousness of Chérubin. Figaro represents the author in his numerous enterprises and struggles. As for the episodes of the play that do not necessarily relate to the central plot, they remain echoes of authentic events. Yet, all these characters and situations are raised to the level of a perfected comic art which gives the play its blustering rhythm. Beaumarchais should not be taken seriously when he states in his preface that the play teaches a moral lesson. In asserting this, he merely uses an old device to transmit to posterity a sublime masterpiece.

CONCLUSION

The relationship between an author and his work is a frequent subject for literary controversy. In the case of Beaumarchais, it is impossible to separate one from the other, for many of his writings grew out of his numerous adventures, trials, and tribulations. The ambitious young watchmaker must already defend in a well-ordered mémoire the originality of his inventions. In his eagerness to be convincing, the accuser of Goezman and La Blache must enliven the dry legality of his arguments with irony and wit. The sensitive man transforms the case of a mistreated wife into a cause célèbre. The secret agent knows the art of arousing suspense when reporting on his missions, becomes an expert at political intrigue, and succeeds in proving that he is indispensable. The businessman easily shows that his enterprises are motivated by reasons that go beyond self-interest.

As an author of mémoires, Beaumarchais is not a mere defendant. He is a skillful writer who organizes his ideas, selects his language, evokes antiquity, imitates Rabelais, and pleads with eloquence. He describes his confrontations with Madame Goezman in sketches that are deemed amusing enough to be acted out at the court of Louis XV. He ridicules his enemies in biting caricatures, and his encounters with Clavijo inspire Goethe and other playwrights. While the later mémoires are less polished, they remain eloquent pleas in which Beaumarchais occasionally presents interesting portraits and vivid tableaux.

The genre larmoyant, which depicts bourgeois life, is a literary fashion of the eighteenth century. With pretensions to writing plays, Beaumarchais tries his hand at dramas. Inspired by Diderot, his Essai sur le genre dramatique sérieux is a keen defense of the drama and presents some original ideas on the technique of the theater. However, the dramas themselves, Eugénie and Les Deux Amis, depict highly unrealistic situations, which Beaumarchais often complicates in order to make them more consistent. The same defects reappear in the sentimental episodes of Le Mariage de Figaro and in La Mère coupable, a sequel to the two comedies which is again a drama. Bourgeois realism is not a very fertile subject for the theater. Yet, eighteenth-century audiences delighted in it for it afforded them the opportunity to be moved and shed tears. In this respect, Beaumarchais has been successful for his dramas contain many touching scenes.

While Beaumarchais's Parades were written for specific occasions and represent a genre which is a fashion of the times, they must be considered as an introduction to his comedies. Deceiving a more artful deceiver is already the subject of those sketches, which show that Beaumarchais's conception of comedy is based on psychological insight. Such is also the underlying theme of the comedies. Through the carefully worked out succession of ingenious schemes aimed at overcoming Bartholo's suspicion, Le Barbier de Séville is a highly amusing comedy of characters and situations. Le Mariage de Figaro is a combination of several intrigues. In a whirlwind of gaiety, the characters disguise themselves, run on and off the stage, go in and out of hiding-places. Moreover, the Mariage is raised to the level of a subtle satire of characters and mores. The comic art of both comedies is heightened by a quick-witted language.

Beaumarchais is also an innovator as a man of the theater. The opposition between character and situation as set forth in the Essai is a fertile device for creating tension both in drama and comedy. Eugénie brings to the stage the daring jeux d'entr'actes that were to make the play more cohesive. Beaumarchais is a scrupulous stage director who describes with precision the psychological state of his characters and gives detailed indications concerning decor, clothing, staging, and lighting. In the comedies, he has devised the succession of péripéties-éclairs, which generate peals of laughter. He is concerned with the role of music in the theater, and, through his opera Tarare, he proposes that it should be a subdued auxiliary of the dramatic poem. Finally, he informs us of his own conception of dramatic technique in his preface to the Mariage: “When my subject seizes me, I call out all my characters and place them in a situation. … What they will say, I know not at all; it's what they will do that concerns me. Then, when they are fully come to life, I write under their rapid dictation. …”

Critics have often searched for the origin of the name Figaro. When one considers the stature of such a lasting creation, it is immaterial to know whether it is derived from fils Caron or from the expression faire la figue, which means to laugh at the world. Surely, the servant as a comic character is known since Molière. Throughout the theater of the eighteenth century, he becomes so ambitious that he represents a real challenge to his master. Figaro may seem the culmination of such an evolution. Yet, to judge him in such a perspective alone is insufficient, for his role goes beyond the realm of mere laughter. He bears a profound resemblance to his creator as he reveals himself from the outset as a man for all seasons. His gaiety surely recalls that of his literary ancestor Panurge, but it also shows an optimistic attitude toward a life that brought him many misfortunes. As much as his boasting, quibbling, and tricking amuse us, he appears for a moment suspicious in our eyes. However, one soon realizes that his behavior is dictated by a fear of becoming the victim of unscrupulous men of power. Figaro is neither wicked nor dishonest, nor does he intend to upset the established order. He is a man of his times, sensitive but aware of his rights. His cheerfulness is almost inexhaustible, but, in moments of crisis, he is serious and proud. As he ages, he proves to be a faithful servant.

Notes

1. On the background of this question see Jacques Seebacher, “Autour de ‘Figaro’: Beaumarchais, la famille de Choiseul et le financier Clavière,” Revue de l'Histoire Littéraire de la France 62 (1962), 199-228.

2. Guy Michaud, “L'intrigue at les ressorts du comique dans Le Mariage de Figaro,” L'Oeuvre et ses techniques (Paris: Nizet, 1957), p. 250.

3. La Dramaturgie de Beaumarchais, pp. 176-77.

4. Michaud, “L'intrigue,” p. 252.

5. Beaumarchais, Le Mariage de Figaro, ed. Jean Meyer, (Paris: Editions du Seuil, 1953), p. 11.

6. Schérer explains the closet episode by stressing the importance of the five dramatic locations which are respectively the bedroom, the closet, the window, the back door, and the alcove. See Le Mariage de Figaro, ed. Jacques Schérer (Paris: SEDES, 1966), pp. 156-61.

7. Claude Vincenot points out that the comic situation here arises from the fact that a truth (the real presence of Suzanne) results from the two successive lies uttered by the countess (the first concerning the real presence of Chérubin, the second concerning the real presence of Suzanne). For more applications of this principle throughout the play, see his article “Mensonge, erreur et vérité dans Le Mariage de Figaro,” Revue des Sciences Humaines, Fascicule no. 134 (Avril-Juin, 1969), 219-27.

8. Le Mariage de Figaro, p. 12.

9. This tirade was originally written for the five-act version of the Barbier.

10. Le Mariage de Figaro (Paris: Centre de Documentation Universitaire, 1964), pp. 147-48.

11. Le Mariage de Figaro, p. 231.

12. Le Mariage de Figaro, p. 351.

13. Le Mariage de Figaro, p. 166.

14. Ibid., p. 165.

15. Roger Pons, “Le Monologue de Figaro” L'Information Littéraire, no. 3 (1951), 118-22.

16. “Cherubino and the Countess,” Philosophy, Poetry, History: An Anthology of Essays (London: Oxford Univ. Press, 1966), p. 900.

17. See J. B. Ratermanis & W. R. Irwin, The Comic Style of Beaumarchais (Seattle: Washington Univ. Press, 1961), p. 54.

18. Quoted by Cynthia Cox, The Real Figaro, pp. 143-44.

19. See Le Mariage de Figaro, ed. Annie Ubersfeld (Paris: Editions Sociales, 1966), pp. 24-59.

Selected Bibliography

PRIMARY SOURCES

1. Some Important Editions:

Oeuvres complètes. Ed. by P. Ph. Gudin de la Brenellerie. 7 Vols. Paris: Collin, 1809.

Oeuvres complètes. Ed. by M. Saint-Marc Girardin. Paris: Ledentu, 1837.

Oeuvres complètes. Ed. by Louis Moland. Paris: Garnier, 1874.

Oeuvres complètes. Ed. by E. Fournier. Paris: Laplace, Sanchez & Cie, 1876. This edition publishes for the first time an incomplete version of the Parades.

Théâtre complet de Beaumarchais. Ed. by G. d'Heylli and F. de Marescot. 4 Vols. Paris: Académie des Bibliophiles, 1869-1871. An informative critical edition but incomplete as to the variants and original manuscripts.

Théâtre complet de Beaumarchais. Ed. by R. d'Hermies. Paris: Magnard, 1952. Presents the complete text of all dramatic works.

Théâtre complet. Ed. by Maurice Allem and Paul-Courant. Paris: Gallimard (Bibliothèque de la Pléiade), 1957. Presents the complete text of all dramatic works, the correspondence relating to all plays and variants based on a partial use of manuscripts only. Includes useful introductions and notes.

Le Barbier de Séville. Ed. by E. J. Arnould. Oxford: Blackwell, 1963. Includes a useful introduction which discusses the genesis and originality of the play. The footnotes are very informative.

Le Mariage de Figaro. Ed. by Jean Meyer. Paris: Editions du Seuil, 1953. Gives directions concerning the stage production of the play. Incisive comments are presented in an introduction.

Le Mariage de Figaro. Ed. by Annie Ubersfeld. Paris: Editions Sociales, 1957. The introduction views the play as an illustration of the class struggle which opposes master and slaves in a Marxist context.

Le Mariage de Figaro. Ed. by Jacques Schérer. Paris: Société d'Edition et d'Enseignement Supérieur, 1966. The commentary or “analyse dramaturgique” which accompanies the text is a brilliant elucidation which hardly leaves anything unexplained.

Le Mariage de Figaro. Ed. by J. B. Ratermanis. Studies on Voltaire and the Eighteenth Century no. 63. Genève, 1968. Presents the three known manuscripts of the Mariage thus showing the various transformations of the play. The notes are very informative.

Correspondance. Ed. by Brian N. Morton. 3 Vols. published to date. Paris: Nizet, 1969. Gathers Beaumarchais's essential letters and includes those written to him. The notes and explanations are informative. A very useful edition and long-awaited enterprise in view of the extreme dispersion of the correspondence to this date.

Notes et Réflexions. Ed. by Gérard Bauer. Paris: Hachette, 1961. Presents interesting musings of Beaumarchais some of which had remained unpublished.

2. Some Translations:

The Barber of Seville, The Marriage of Figaro. Trans. by John Wood. Penguin Books, 1964.

The Barber of Seville. Ed. and trans. by Brobury Pearce Ellis. New York: Appleton-Century-Crofts, 1966.

The Marriage of Figaro. Ed. and trans. by Brobury Pearce Ellis. New York: Appleton-Century-Crofts, 1966.

SECONDARY SOURCES

1. Bibliographies:

Cabeen, David C. A Critical Bibliography of French Literature, Volume IV: The Eighteenth Century. Ed. by George R. Havens and Donald F. Bond. Syracuse: Syracuse Univ. Press, 1951. Contains selected items accompanied by judicious comments.

A Critical Bibliography of French Literature, Volume IV, Supplement: The Eighteenth Century. Ed. by Richard A. Brooks. Syracuse: Syracuse Univ. Press, 1968. Updates the preceding volume following the same method. Remains selective. Both volumes should be used with other existing bibliographies.

Cioranescu, Alexandre. Bibliographie de la littérature française du dix-huitième siècle. 3 Vols. Paris: CNRS, 1969. Under the “Beaumarchais” listing gives a methodical classification of all editions and publications concerning the various aspects of the life and works of Beaumarchais. Slight inaccuracies.

Cordier, Henri. Bibliographie des oeuvres de Beaumarchais. Paris: Quantin, 1883. Lists all editions of Beaumarchais' writings as well as parodies, translations, and adaptations of his plays published to that date.

Klapp, Otto. Bibliographie d'histoire littéraire française. Frankfurt: Klostermann, 1956 to date. Gives very complete and accurate listings of editions and critical studies that appear yearly.

2. Biographies:

Cox, Cynthia. The Real Figaro: The Extraordinary Career of Caron de Beaumarchais. London: Longmans, 1962. Well documented and well written.

Fay, Bernard. Beaumarchais ou les fredaines de Figaro. Paris: Librairie Académique Perrin, 1971. Curiously centers Beaumarchais's life around the theme of the woman. Informative but somewhat verbose.

Gudin de la Brenellerie, P. Ph., Histoire de Beaumarchais. Ed. by Maurice Tourneux. Paris: Plon, 1888. Overly favorable and obviously partial as the author was Beaumarchais's secretary and best friend.

LeMaitre, Georges. Beaumarchais. New York: Knopf, 1949. Based on standard information and somewhat too favorable. Makes pleasant reading.

Richard, Pierre. La Vie privée de Beaumarchais. Paris: Hachette, 1951. Very precise and informative but emphasizes the individual rather than the man of his times.

3. Critical Studies:

Arnould, Emile Jules. “Le Barbier de Séville et la critique.” French Studies 16 (1962), 334-47. Reassesses the chronology of the Barbier and challenges Lintilhac, who holds that the play was originally a “parade.”

———. La Génèse du Barbier de Séville. Dublin: Dublin Univ. Press and Paris: Minard, 1965. The most exhaustive critical edition of the play. Reproduces the three known manuscripts and variants and contains a very detailed introduction and useful comments on the Lettre modérée and Compliment de clôture.

Beaumarchais, Jean-Pierre de, “Beaumarchais devant la critique.” L'Information Littéraire, no. 2 (1973), 55-63. Reviews cursorily the most recent biographical and critical studies.

Gaiffe, Félix. Le Mariage de Figaro. Paris: Centre de Documentation Universitaire, 1964. Studies the important scenes of each act. Contains a very detailed introduction which evaluates the play. Should be supplemented, however, by Jacques Schérer's “analyse dramaturgique.”

———. Le Mariage de Figaro. Paris: Nizet, 1956. A historical study concerning the composition, performance, criticism, and influence of the play.

Giudici, Enzo. Beaumarchais, nel suo e nel nostro tempo: Le Barbier de Séville. Roma: Edizioni dell' Ateneo, 1964. A very exhaustive study of all aspects of the play considered as a masterpiece on a par with the Mariage. Views Figaro with suspicion.

Hallays, André. Beaumarchais. Paris: Hachette, 1897. Very clear and objective. Emphasizes Beaumarchais's personality rather than his works.

Hampton, John. “The literary technique of the first two ‘mémoires’ of Beaumarchais against Goezman.” Studies on Voltaire and the Eighteenth Century, no. 47 (1966), 177-205. Points to the unintentional use of literary devices in what was meant to be mere legal pleas.

Johnson, Margaret Leah. Beaumarchais and his opponents. Richmond, Va.: Whittet and Shepperson, 1936. Examines Beaumarchais's writings concerning his trials in the light of the pamphlets written by his opponents. Not a literary study.

Kite, Elizabeth S. Beaumarchais and the War of American Independence. 2 Vols. Boston: Badger, 1918. Mostly a biographical work. Only chapters 16-22 deal with Beaumarchais's role in the war.

Lintilhac, Eugene François. Beaumarchais et ses oeuvres. Paris: Hachette, 1887. Basic study supported by an abundant scholarly documentation which makes the reading somewhat difficult at times. Contains supplementary information on Beaumarchais' life. Although controversial at times, the commentary remains generally sound.

Lomenié, Louis de. Beaumarchais et son temps. 2 Vols. Paris: Michel Lévy, 1858. Basic biography showing Beaumarchais in the midst of eighteenth-century society. Cursory but sound evaluation of the works.

———. Beaumarchais and his times. Trans. by Henry S. Edwards. New York: Harper and Brothers, 1857.

Michaud, Guy. “L'intrigue et les ressorts du comique dans Le Mariage de Figaro.” L'Oeuvre et ses techniques. Paris: Nizet, 1957, 245-59. Penetrating insight into the structure of the play stressing the conflict of interests as they appear in the various intrigues.

Pomeau, René. Beaumarchais. Paris: Hatier, 1962. Clear, concise, and thorough study of the author and his work.

Pons, Roger. “Le Monologue de Figaro.” L'Information Littéraire, no. 3 (1951), 118-22. A detailed literary analysis.

Proschwitz, Gunnar von. Introduction à l'étude du vocabulaire de Beaumarchais. Stockholm: Almrist and Wiksell and Paris: Nizet, 1956. Interesting study of neologisms introduced by Beaumarchais in the fields of literature, politics, and fashion of the times.

Pugh, Anthony. “Beaumarchais, the ‘drame bourgeois’ and the ‘pièce bien faite.’” Modern Language Review 61 (1966), 416-21. Suggests that Beaumarchais masters the art of building a plot throughout his plays.

Ratermanis, J. B., and Irwin, W. R. The Comic Style of Beaumarchais. Seattle: Univ. of Washington Press, 1961. Mainly an analysis of the comedies supported by an eclectic study of their style and comic theory.

Schérer, Jacques. La Dramaturgie de Beaumarchais. Paris: Nizet, 1954. Views Beaumarchais's theater as a unity and presents a penetrating analysis of his dramatic technique.

———. “Les Parades de Beaumarchais.” L'Information Littéraire, no. 2 (1951), 43-50. A comprehensive analysis of the Parades which stresses their dramatic value.

Van Tieghem, Philippe. Beaumarchais par lui-même. Paris: Editions du Seuil, 1960. Shows that Beaumarchais lives up to the sentimental, philosophic, and pragmatic demands of his times. Should be read as a supplement to already acquired knowledge on Beaumarchais.

Vier, Jacques. “Beaumarchais.” Histoire de la littérature française du dix-huitième siècle. Paris: Armand Colin, 1970. Vol. II, pp. 212-68. An interesting reevaluation with original comments on the comedies and La Mère coupable.