Beaumarchais and the War of American Independence, Vol. 1

by Elizabeth Sarah Kite

For those of Beaumarchais’s admirers who consider the creation of Figaro as his highest title to fame, it is no matter of regret that after imperfect success with his first drama, and almost failure with his second, he should have made the transition to gay comedy. Figaro, however, as we shall see, did not come before the public simply for its amusement, he came as the announcement of that complete change which already was taking place in the social institutions of modern Europe, first breaking out in France, so that his apparition, therefore, was no mere accident, but a momentous event.

At the present moment in 1766, no one could be farther than Beaumarchais from the possibility of such a creation, for although he had brought with him from Spain the crude outline of the “Barbier,” he lacked as yet all that experience which was to give political significance to the play, and which was destined to enable him to voice for all time the right of the individual to be heard in his own cause. In 1766 he not only imagined himself to be, but was, one of the most loyal, one of the most respectful subjects of the king. His life of adventure apparently was over. He asked for nothing better than the fortune and position he had acquired already. At heart he was above everything

else domestic and was therefore warmly attracted toward the new literary school. Loménie says, “He precipitated himself with his ordinary fervor into the drame domestique et bourgeois, which seemed to him an unknown world of which Diderot was the Christopher Columbus, and of which he hoped to be the Vespucius.”

In speaking of Beaumarchais’s attraction for this school Gudin says: “Struck with the new beauties which the French stage displayed from day to day, drawn on by his own talent he descended into the arena, to mix with the combatants who disputed the palms of the scenic plays.

“Never before had been seen such an assemblage of excellent actors; the theater was not simply a place of amusement, it was a course in public instruction; here were displayed the customs of all nations and the principal events of history; all the interests of humanity were there developed with that truth which convinces, and arouses thought in every mind.

“Diderot proposed to paint upon the scene the different duties of the social condition, the father of the family, the magistrate, the merchant, in order to show the virtues which each requires. It was certainly a new point of view which he offered to the public. Beaumarchais felt his heart deeply touched, and yielding to the impulse which he felt, he composed, almost in spite of himself, his touching Eugénie.

“This is the picture of a virtuous girl infamously seduced by a great lord. No piece ever offered a more severe morality, or more direct instruction to fathers of vain women, who allow themselves to be blinded by titles and great names. It is the duty of every author to attack the vices of his own century. This duty the Greeks first understood. But in France a thousand voices were raised against the innovation. Beaumarchais, whom nothing intimidated, dared in his

first play to attack the vice so common among great lords, especially under Louis XV.

“Certainly this ought to have made him applauded by every friend of virtue. The opposite occurred. The friends kept silence. Those who were guilty of similar vice cried out against the play, their flatterers cried still louder, journalists and the envious authors hissed and cried out that it was detestable, scandalous, badly conceived and executed, immoral. Not one applauded the energetic audacity of the author who dared to raise his voice against the luxurious vice permitted by the monarchy and even by the magistrates. Beaumarchais, however, had the public on his side, the piece remained upon the stage and was constantly applauded.”

Although the fastidious French taste, apart from all the enmity aroused by the many-sided success of its author, found much to criticise in the production, Eugénie, or la Vertu malheureuse, the piece retains its place upon the repertoire of the Théâtre-Français and is still occasionally given.