Eighteenth-century France produced only one truly international theater star, Beaumarchais, and only one name, Figaro, to combine with Don Quixote and D'Artagnan in the ranks of popular myth. But who was Figaro? He was quickly appropriated by Mozart and Rossini who tamed the original impertinent, bustling servant for their own purposes. On the eve of the French Revolution Figaro was seen as a threat to the establishment and Louis XIV even banned The Marriage of Figaro.
Was the barber of Seville really a threat to aristocratic heads, or a bourgeois individualist like his creator? The three plays in which he plots and schemes chronicle the slide of the ancien regime into revolution but they also chart the growth of Beaumarchais' humanitarianism. They are exuberant theatrical entertainments, masterpieces of skill, invention, and social satire which helped shape the direction of French theater for a hundred years. This lively new translation catches all the zest and energy of the most famous valet in French literature.
About the Series: For over 100 years Oxford World's Classics has made available the broadest spectrum of literature from around the globe. Each affordable volume reflects Oxford's commitment to scholarship, providing the most accurate text plus a wealth of other valuable features, including expert introductions by leading authorities, voluminous notes to clarify the text, up-to-date bibliographies for further study, and much more.
Pierre-Augustin Caron de Beaumarchais, a musician, diplomat, horticulturalist, satirist, and American revolutionary, made watches, invented, inventor, fled, spied, published, dealt arms, and financed.
Born a son to a provincial watchmaker , Beaumarchais rose in society as an influential inventor and music teacher in the court of Louis XV. He made a number of important business and social contacts in various roles as a diplomat and spy,and earned a considerable fortune before a series of costly court battles jeopardized his reputation.
An early supporter of American independence, Beaumarchais lobbied the government on behalf of the rebels during the war of independence. From the Spanish government, Beaumarchais oversaw covert aid to supply arms and financial assistance to the rebels in the years before formal entry of into the war in 1778. He personally invested money in the scheme but later struggled to recover it . Beaumarchais also participated in the early stages of the revolution. People probably remember especially his three theatrical pieces.
“FIGARO- …nel vasto campo dell’intrigo bisogna saper utilizzare tutto, anche la vanità di uno sciocco.”
[Il Matrimonio di Figaro- Atto Terzo – Scena Undicesima]
Il barbiere di Siviglia o la precauzione inutile (1775) La folle giornata o Il matrimonio di Figaro (1778) La madre colpevole o l’altro Tartufo (1790)
Questi i titoli delle tre opere teatrali che, nonostante siano state composte e portate in scena a distanza di tempo, sono legate dalla presenza dei medesimi protagonisti. L’autore stesso definì le tre opere come «romanzo della famiglia Almaviva» ma la definizione popolare le ha volute tramandare dando risalto ad un altro protagonista, ossia Figaro. Nello specifico sono due commedie ed un’opera finale (La madre colpevole) più specificatamente drammatica.
La carica eversiva è un ulteriore tratto comune nella trilogia: l’attacco è diretto (in modo più o meno velato) particolarmente contro i privilegi di casta. Se nel Barbiere, messo in scena in odor di Rivoluzione, si palesa l’ironia come unica arma del letterato, nelle altre due opere è chiaro che il dispotismo nobiliare non potrà più essere tollerato . Esemplare (e magnifico) è il monologo di Figaro nell'ultimo atto del Matrimonio * non a caso le difficoltà per mettere in scena la commedia non furono poche.
Lo stesso Da Ponte elaborando il libretto commissionato dal maestro Mozart dovette candeggiare molto affinché l’opera avesse qualche possibilità di essere rappresentata.
*” Nobiltà, ricchezza, gradi, cariche: fa diventare così superbi, tutto questo! Ma voi che avete fatto per meritare tanta fortuna? Vi siete data la pena di nascere, e basta. Del resto, siete un uomo abbastanza comune. Mentre io, perbacco!, sperso come ero nella folla anonima, ho dovuto spiegare più scienza e accortezza, solo per sopravvivere, che non voi in cent'anni per governare tutte le Spagne. E vorreste giostrare con me, voi?...”
Sia il Barbiere e sia il Matrimonio sono commedie brillanti dove il riso riflette, in realtà, la tensione sociale crescente che di lì a poco scoppierà. Significativo è che queste due commedie siano ambientate in Spagna.
La prima commedia (" Il barbiere di Siviglia o la precauzione inutile", 1775) ha uno sviluppo molto semplice: il conte Almaviva si è innamorato della giovane Rosina che, però, vive sotto l’ala protettrice di Bartolo, il tutore geloso che la vuole sposare ad ogni costo. Sarà l’astuzia del barbiere Figaro a sbrigliare la matassa rendendo inutile ogni precauzione di Bartolo.
La seconda commedia, ("La folle giornata o Il matrimonio di Figaro", 1778). come annunciato dal titolo, si svolge in una giornata che è folle per il complicarsi degli eventi. In questo caso sulla scena i personaggi sono molti di più. Il conte si è sposato con l’amata Rosina ma una volta diventata contessa l’amore è andato scemando. Il nobile ora fa la corte alla cameriera Susanna che è in procinto di sposare Figaro. Altri personaggi sono la vecchia Marcellina e ancora Bartolo e poi i giovanissimi Cherubino e Ceschina. In questo modo si celebra l’amore in tutte le sua sfumature: dall’acerbo al maturo. L’intreccio è ancora comico ma molto più movimentato rispetto al Barbiere.
La madre colpevole o l’altro Tartufo (1790) è l’opera meno conosciuta. La famiglia Almaviva si trasferisce in Francia. Ci troviamo qui in pieno dramma scaturito dalla colpa morale della Contessa per aver ceduto alla passione con il giovane Cherubino. Da questa unione nasce Leone inizialmente riconosciuto dal conte che, tuttavia, nutre sospetti poi confermati. D’altro canto anche lui ha una figlia naturale: Florestina che – guarda caso- s’innamora proprio di Leone…La furbizia di Figaro – efficace nelle prime due opere- qui è osteggiata dall’irlandese Bégearss chiamato anche l’altro Tartufo riferendosi al noto personaggio di Molière e quindi al carattere arrivista disonesto e manipolatore.
Una lettura completamente piacevole e così precisa nel ritrarci un’epoca importante per i cambiamenti sociali ed epocali. La borghesia freme tra le battute e il sangue blu perde quel misterioso valore per volere divino così che diventa emblematica la battuta della governante Marcellina:
”Non guardare di dove vieni ma dove vai” [Il Matrimonio di Figaro- Atto Terzo – Scena Sedicesima]
Applausi a questa trilogia. Applausi che durano da ben più di due secoli!!
A trilogy centering around Figaro, the wily barber-turned-servant who outwits his master in the first two plays and then outwits the enemy of his master in the last. Beaumarchais never intended to write a trilogy so they are more like sequels. Most of what happens in all three is formulaic but he does a good job with the formulae.
The Barber of Seville is the lightest of the bunch, a trivial plot about a guardian seeking to marry his daughter and Count Almaviva and the daughter's love for each other--which triumphs thanks to Figaro. Mostly this happens through one implausible misunderstanding after another with lots of scenes clearly extended for comic effect. The Rossini opera is almost identical to the play, often word-for-word.
The Marriage of Figaro is a more complex plot (three different love issues that need to be resolved simultaneously) and is more explicitly political in its themes, e.g., a very long speech by a dejected Figaro who thinks the Count will get his beloved Suzanna: "You think that because you are a great lord you are a great genius! Nobility, wealth, rank, high position, such things make a man proud. But what did you ever do to earn them? Chose your parents carefully, that's all. Take that away and what have you got? A very average man. Whereas I, by God, was a face in the crowd. I've had to show more skill and brainpower just to stay alive than it's taken to rule all the provinces of Spain for the last hundred years." The Mozart opera shortens the play a little and omits some of this more political material.
The Guilty Mother is clearly the least good of the group but in some ways was the most fun to read because it was more novel. Well as novel as anything that seems like the illegitimate child of Molière's Tartuffe and the earlier Figaro plays can be. It is less light and humorous and has more one-dimensional villainy, with a one-dimensional Figaro saving the day and everyone else being an idiotic dupe. Also a bit political at times.
Con la lettura di questa trilogia finalmente mi sono ritrovata piacevolmente coinvolta in quel teatro settecentesco di ambiente, dalla trama ricca di colpi di scena, dove gli attori devono essere molto bravi per rendere la caratterizzazione del proprio personaggio e il ritmo spesso vivace che caratterizza la messa in scena della commedia. Già conoscevo le trame grazie alle stupende rese musicali di Rossini Per il Barbiere e di Mozart per il Matrimonio di Figaro ma non mi aspettavo di divertirmi così. Ma non c’è solo il divertimento assicurato, Beaumerchais ci fa riflettere anche su altri argomenti: c’è una forma di dualismo che mette a confronto servi e padroni, giovani e vecchi, nobili e borghesi, e siamo nell’epoca della prerivoluzione francese con un Terzo Stato emergente ma c’è anche un polemico accenno alla condizione femminile: qui Rosina e soprattutto Rosanna sono delle vere protagoniste. Molto bella anche l’ultima opera, che non conoscevo. Ora non mi resta che cercare i libretti di Da Ponte e riascoltare le opere dove i balli e le canzoni hanno il loro giusto rilievo.
Desde muy joven, siempre he sido muy parcial a Il barbiere di Siviglia (1816) de Gioacchino Rossini. Por lo menos a las dos composiciones que ubicaba: la obertura y Largo al factotum. Fue hace muchos años después que finalmente escuché la ópera completa y la amé. Muchos años después supe que la obertura no fue originalmente compuesta para esta ópera, sino que fue un refrito de la obertura para Aureliano in Palmira (1813) del mismo Rossini. Y todavía más adelante descubrí que el libretto de Cesare Sterbini, sobre el que se adapta la ópera de Rossini, estaba basado en la obra de teatro de un francés. Un tal Beaumarchais.
Pierre-Augustin Caron de Beaumarchais (París, 1732-1799) fue un escritor, dramaturgo, músico, y empresario... Y también era espía y comerciante de armas para el rey de Francia. Beaumarchais fue uno de los impulsores del derecho de autor y en cierta manera precursor de la revolución de 1799. Su vida y sus actitudes se reflejan en gran medida en su obra: "la verdad sobre Beaumarchais se refleja menos en los hechos de su vida que por su vida en su literatura", comenta David Coward, profesor emérito de francés en la Universidad de Leeds, quien traduce, anota, y nos obsequia en su introducción una biografía del dramaturgo.
Dicha semblanza es muy interesante y se desarrolla de una manera que brilla por tener su encanto propio. En cierta forma y aunque suene dramático, esta lectura me representó un pequeño gran viaje de descubrimiento e iluminación con respecto a los orígenes de lo que es en esencia mi ópera favorita. Enterarse de los pormenores de las varias carreras de Beaumarchais e inferir a partir de ellos la ruta que seguiría su creatividad hasta llegar a la producción de su trilogía figarina ha sido uno de los momentos más destacables en mis lecturas de este año. Como mencioné antes, además de esta biografía, el Prof. Coward incluye varias y muy pertinentes notas a lo largo de las obras que se agradecen con el alma.
En este volumen se presentan las tres obras coprotagonizadas, como indica el título, por Fígaro (fortunatissimo per verità): aquel personaje insolente, perspicaz, y de gran inventiva (All'idea di quel metallo / Un vulcano la mia mente / Incomincia a diventar), cuya intervención resulta central para la feliz resolución de estas historias. Pero no solamente regresa Fígaro, sino también Rosina y el Conde de Almaviva; esta tercia funge como el eje sobre el que giran los tres relatos.
Cada pieza de la trilogía presenta una evolución particular, tanto en tono como en contenido. Pero ya que la introducción del Profesor Coward contiene un análisis muy ilustrativo de las obras de Beaumarchais, encuentro superfluo insistir sobre los mismos puntos, especialmente porque no me siento capacitado para aportar nada relevante. Por ello, me limitaré a hacer algunos comentarios sobre lo que me parece más pertinente, y casi siempre sobre las líneas de lo expuesto por el traductor.
La primera parte de la trilogía, Le Barbier de Séville ou La Précaution inutile, consta de cuatro actos y data de 1775. Es la historia que se conoce: El Conde de Almaviva se ha propuesto casarse con una joven llamada Rosina, a quien siguió desde Madrid hasta Sevilla. En dicha ciudad, ella vive con su guardián, el doctor Bartolo quien, además de mal administrar el dinero de su protegida, pretende casarse con ella. Dicho mal y rápido: esta es la historia de cómo Fígaro, el barbero y factótum de la ciudad, se las ingenia para ayudar a Almaviva a lograr su objetivo. La obra es completamente cómica, con cierta sátira social pero sobre todo jocosa. Las diferencias entre el original de Beaumarchais y la versión de Sterbini-Rossini son relativamente considerables, especialmente en cuanto al contenido satírico que se diluye bastante cuando degustamos ese pilar del repertorio operístico. No puedo opinar sobre las otras óperas porque nunca las he escuchado.
La segunda entrega en esta trilogía es del año 1781, se llama La Folle Journée, ou le Mariage de Figaro y está constituida por cinco actos. Si bien esta sátira sigue siendo cómica, el comentario social es bastante más marcado: es en esta obra donde más se habla de la opresión femenina. En particular, la contundencia con la que se expresa Marcelina en la escena 16 del III acto refleja la denuncia, por nombrarla de algún modo, que hace Beaumarchais de la opresión masculina sobre las mujeres. Evidentemente, hablar de un pronunciamiento feminista o querer ver en Fígaro a un aliado constituyen anacronismos que debemos evitar a toda costa, pero no puede negarse que hay un discurso claramente crítico del sistema patriarcal, especialmente cuando se habla de las víctimas de la conducta predatoria de los hombres, quienes se aprovechan de la vulnerabilidad en la que se encuentran muchas jóvenes. La adaptación operística a cargo de Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart y Lorenzo Da Ponte (1786) retiró todo lo considerado políticamente controversial, restándole fuerza al comentario que había logrado la obra en su momento.
La trilogía cierra con L'Autre Tartuffe ou la Mère coupable (1792), dividida en cinco actos, y que difiere notablemente de las anteriores por el hecho de no ser una comedia, sino un "drama moral". El Tartufo al que alude el título viene de la obra de Molière (1664) y es bastante transparente: el antagonista es un hipócrita, un impostor, que le ha costado a Fígaro muchos años de dedicación en su empresa para desenmascararlo. "La madre culpable" se desarrolla en París y coloca a Rosina en su punto más bajo en toda la trilogía, y al Conde de Almaviva en su punto de mayor enojo y resentimiento. Si bien sigue siendo orgulloso, puede apreciarse la evolución de Almaviva, pues ha dejado de ser vanidoso. No por ello, sin embargo, ha dejado de ser impulsivo ni de dudar de su esposa ni de la lealtad acérrima de Fígaro, especialmente estando bajo la influencia villanesca del Mayor Bégearss, quien busca destruir a la familia. Tristemente, sin embargo, Beaumarchais parece retroceder en su postura con respecto de las relaciones intergenéricas.
Si bien no suelo leer obras de teatro, disfruté mucho leyendo estas tres historias. Los personajes son entrañables, muy humanos, y el carácter de Figaro lo vuelve una leyenda, con su actitud desafiante y cuestionadora, su creatividad y su sentido de la lealtad. Sus momentos más contestatarios son los que, en mi opinión, más admiración despiertan; creo que todos deberíamos aprender algo de él. Gran lectura, la recomiendo ampliamente.
Beaumarchais, P.-A. C. de (2003). The Figaro trilogy (D. Coward, trad.) [edición eBook]. Oxford University Press.
Trilogie à la fois œuvre divertissante et œuvre de subversion encore aujourd'hui. "La mère coupable" moins connue, est aussi très bien "ficelée", divertissante et émouvante à la fois. Lu pour le lycée.
I've completed this first of three parts of my deep dive into The Marriage of Figaro opera. This part was the original story, the next part the libretto, the third part the musical score. This book/play was so good and it was so funny. It reminded me of Don Quixote in it's hilarity and Dangerous Liaisons in its subject matter. These three stories (Barber of Seville, Marriage of Fiagro, Guilty Mother) are full of intrigue, backstabbing, deceit, forgiveness, love, and hate. They are masterful in weaving together personal interests that lead to exposure of bad intentions. I thoroughly enjoyable read.
I read these in preparation for a season in which I will be performing both Le nozze di Figaro and Il barbiere di Siviglia and am very glad I did. The first two plays are very close to there more famous operatic desendents (one wonders if Da Ponte deserves the plaudits he gets for his Nozze libretto). The third play, which is perhaps the most interesting of the three, was never given a proper musical setting (perhaps because composers found it difficult to reconcile its dark comedy with its unabashed romanticism.
There is something both sad and wonderful about reading the three plays together. Each play ends happily but with each subsequent play we find that things have just gotten worse. The happy ending of the previous play seems not to be the end point but merely a blip on a gradually declining road. The formula leads each play, even though they have ostensibly the same plot, to tackle an entirely different set of issues and emotions; the trilogy grows up with its characters.
The Barber of Seville is a childhood fairy tale. The end result is never in doubt. Almaviva is cast as Prince Charming, rescuing his princess, Rosina, from a tower guarded by the ogre Bartolo. The only variation it brings is that the action is carried by wit, not force. The deus ex machina at the end is a silly as it is necessary. Le nozze di Figaro is teenage love. There is heartbreak here and it is passionate, but it is easily forgettable with repentance. Though actions can be terrible wounds do not go deep in this play. Almaviva and the countess, Figaro and Susanna, are learning how this relationship thing works. The Guilty Mother deals with fully mature, adult relationships. The problems are deep seated and long brooded over. The possible consequences are both severe and legitimate. Love does win out in the end but no one involved has any doubts as to what it has cost. In the end the characters do not find the "happily ever after" of Barber of Seville; instead they part us "stronger and closer ever after".
Plays are meant to be viewed on the stage. No written play can earn a five star rating - except perhaps King Lear or Hamlet. Plays gain some of their power from being performed by talented actors. That said, these three plays by Beaumarchais are entertaining to read on their own, even in translation. We can imagine the characters in our heads, the absurd situations, the gaiety and frustration. The dances and songs lose the most from being reduced to words on paper, but other than that, these plays are surprisingly fresh to read even after the year 2000.
I recommend these plays to all fans of drama and French culture.
The plays are outrageously funny, madcap, satirical. This edition has many helpful footnotes. The translation is fluid and poetic. There are many songs in the plays, and the translated lyrics are excellent, rhythmic and rhyming and smooth.
[This review is focusing on the third of the plays--I couldn't find an entry for just the one play.]
So--it's fine.
In context, in its time and milieu, this is probably pretty entertaining. I'm guessing, cuz i dunno. But the conventions seem odd now. French theatre of the time (based on nothing more than these three Beaumarchais plays and a few Moliere plays) seems mostly like angry people storming back and forth across the stage, arguing and/or crying, with whispering and eavesdropping interspersed randomly. The servants, notably Figaro here, conspire to make a happy ending (while promoting themselves, generally) though it feels like Figaro is given credit for being more brilliant than he ever proves to be. He's a schemer and a manipulator, and he does succeed in figuring out everyone's secrets so he can prevent a (worse) schemer from hurting his family, so I'll give him that credit. But he's no Sherlock or anything.
(I'm trying to think of a modern equivalent of the Figaro character, someone who discovers secrets and uses tricks and persuasion and lies to make it all turn out for the good and I've got nothing. I can only come up with villains, plotters, and backstabbers. Maybe the Long John Silver character on "Black Sails"? I dunno.)
The ending of this is pretty good, though the difficulties are all overcome in quick succession without a lot of drama. People shout at each other a lot in these plays, but then forgive each other and fall back in love very easily. I guess Shakespeare used the same trope, so it's got a history...
Having read all three, I guess my takeaway is that the prevailing mood in these comedies is anger, with the happy bit coming about a page or a minute from the end. I don't love that.
These plays seem somewhat aged, compared perhaps to the best of Moliere's. Moreover, they feel like they lose much of their flair when read instead of put on. Comparisons with Hamlet and Don Quixote - which one reads at the introduction - are, to say the least, far-fetched.
That said, the time I spent reading this book doesn't feel wasted. Figaro is a unique, colorful, multilayered character. Beaumarchais's writing brings his transitional era to palpable life, and Figaro can easily be taken as 'the spirit of resistance to oppression' (quoting from the back cover). Not quite a revolutionary, mind you: not even in 'the Guilty Mother', written during the high points of the French Revolution, does Beaumarchais seem to call for complete overturn of the social system; moderation and fraternity are some keywords in his thought. It's tempting to call him (Beaumarchais/Figaro) a symbol of the emergent bourgeois class - which is often said to have been the most powerful social force behind the Enlightenment and the French Revolution.
Moderate, non-revolutionary, but definitely progressive is also Beaumarchais's contribution to the evolution of literature and the way life is depicted in it. He us one of those writers who, in line with the evolution of ideas during the age of the Enlightenment, reduced the distance between literature of the serious, the tragic and the sublime, which had so far been only about the top levels of the social pyramid; and comic, farcical literature, which was the only thing that could be written about heroes from lower classes. Figaro is never sublime, but he is a lower-class hero who does not seem out of place in serious, dramatic passages. Most important from this aspect (and the most interesting play of the three, in my opinion) is 'the Guilty Mother', which is not a real comedy but oscillates between comedy and melodrama, between serious and comic, towards its optimistic conclusion.
The Marriage of Figaro **** – For all the talk about this being a revolutionary work, I was confused at first. It initially struck me simply as a farce with Figaro playing the part of a Plautian slave in an overly complicated scheme to spoil the Count’s intentions for Figaro’s wife. And that’s what it is, until you keep reading and you begin to see its not-so-sly subversiveness.
Yes, the beginning of the play discusses droit de seigneur, but as a thing of the past. I interpreted the Count’s designs as those of any person of authority over another. It’s later that Figaro’s dismissive attitude toward the aristocracy is nakedly revealed – particularly in Act III in his conversation with the Count and the trial, and his soliloquy in Act V. The stinging questioning of their morals, effectiveness and concern for others lays bare the corruption, incompetence and venality of the aristocracy.
This commentary is surprising because the play could easily be produced without these comments, and in fact it was with Mozart’s Marriage of Figaro. The opera excised all the pieces critical of the aristocracy, retaining the farcical plot and humor. And because of that disconnect between the plot and revolutionary ideas, I can’t judge it a complete success.
The play is very good, though, and Figaro stands as one of the great creations of the stage and literature. However, it holds its exulted place in drama history more for the revolutionary ideas it promoted in its time, then for it intrinsically being one of the greatest plays.
I am a classical singer and have loved Mozart's opera The Marriage of Figaro since I was small. I have had the pleasure to sing most of the arias and have even sung some of Rossini's Barber of Seville. I bought this book on my recent holiday in Portugal and decided to read it this weekend. I am so pleased I finally read this!
The Figaro Trilogy follows many of the same characters over a period of at least 15 years. Apart from Figaro we get to see Count Almaviva, and Countess Rosine go through quite a few changes. It is hard to review this without giving away anything but I didn't expect some of the plot line in the final installment "The Guilty Mother." Beaumarchais writes wonderfully vivid characters and I chuckled at one passage which summed up politics all too well. His characters think on their feet and are sassy. Especially the servants! I was pleasantly surprised how accurately the two operas I mentioned above stayed faithful to his plays although there are some differences in Figaro. Now someone needs to write an opera based on the last play!
This is a real gem and great fun to read. Well written with some great characters. A must read for anyone who is a fan of the operas or 18th century French plays!
Beaumarchais was a fascinating man, influential and active in his own time and still worth reading today. His formerly dangerous social critiques in support of women and against the 'ancien regime' seem tame now - indeed by the end of his life he was the reactionary compared to the Revolution his plays had ushered in.
The Barber of Seville is a delightful comedy, modest in scope but quick-witted and focused. The Marriage of Figaro is uproariously funny, hugely ambitious, and lunatic in the degree it pushes farce. The Guilty Mother is the odd one, dramatic and sentimental and featuring a shadow of the real Figaro character. But it's not long enough to exhaust the good credit built up by the first two plays.
Coward's translation is very modern, which is probably fair for a playwright who was at the daring, bleeding edge of Enlightenment thought in his day. You might be surprised how quick a read it is.
Figaro himself - at least in Barber and Marriage - is an immortal character. Human, not farcical but never earnest, always witty, the perfect mix of confidence and underdog hustle.
I was familiar with "The Barber of Seville" and the "Marriage of Figaro" and both plays are light and funny. I did not realize that there was a final play until I picked up the set of Beaumarchais' plays and read them. The Guilty Mother begins on a dark note, unlike the other two plays. It is interesting how from the Marriage of Figaro, where the Duke and Rosina are reconciled and Cherubin is finally put in his place to the Guilty Mothers the relationship between the Duke and Rosina disintegrated, and how the play deals with again reconciling these two characters. I liked all the plays and they were fun to read. Since these are plays, one must use our own imagination on how the play would be performed and how the actors would be acting to present the play to maintain the humor and tension of the play.
My favourite quote comes not from Figaro, the famed French valet, but from Suzanne, the maid he marries:
"Having to prove I’m right means admitting that I could be wrong.”
The lively characters, their witty dialogue, the scheming and manipulating, the foiled plots and subplots, all make for a romping good laugh.
These plays were adapted for opera by none other than Mozart himself, and it was one of my mum & sisters' chief delights to watch it together, especially to laugh at Cherubin, so I'll always have fond memories associated with Figaro. It was fun to finally read the original plays.
And who knew that a stuffy 18th Century Frenchman from the age of snuff boxes and bourées (and nationwide upheaval) could speak so ardently in favour of feminism?
The Barber of Seville and the Marriage of Figaro are well known in their operatic form. But few know they were originally stage plays. They are delightful comedies - at times almost slapstick. I laughed out loud reading them. The servants and women always triumph over the high ranking men.
The third play, The Guilty Mother, continues with some of the same characters. However, the tone is quite different. In this play, the noble servant Figaro once again schemes to help his master. The gaiety of the first two play is gone. This play has a somber tone. Still, it is worth reading to round out the trilogy.
The froth of Barber and Marriage does not prepare one for the dark, almost Iago-like, melodramatic tone of The Culpable Wife. Once I accepted that, it is as good, in its own right, as the first two. Where, in Barber, Figaro is almost the "fairy godfather" character who directs the comedia dell'arte plot of the old guardian, young ward, and handsome suitor and then, in Marriage, he and the Count are more evenly matched and he needs the women to help him to his victory, in the Wife, the focus is so much more on the villain Begearss and Figaro not much more than a plot device used to derail the interloper.
This edition is perfection. It includes a beautiful biographical sketch, fully annotated editions of The Barber of Seville, The Marriage of Figaro, and The Guilty Mother, as well as Beaumarchais's lengthy prefaces to the plays, clear and helpful introductions to the plays by David Edney, and several of Beaumarchais's writings on the generic conventions of the 18th century bourgeois drame. It's a masterfully edited volume.
Me gustaría poder darle una calificación más alta pero parte de la gracia del teatro es que se tiene que representar (lo más cercano a eso ha sido ver la ópera de Las bodas de Fígaro), y sin ese aspecto presente...la historia se queda un poco coja. Aún así la recomiendo porque es una historia divertida y fácil de leer (la trilogía, la última obra en concreto es un poco agobiante lol).
I was drawn to read these plays due to the fantastic Opera’s that were written based on Beaumarchais’s works. It’s pretty wild that 200 and some year old plays could still be fairly well understood and appreciated. The letters by Beaumarchais after the plays provide some interesting insights into his creative process, I am happy the publisher chose to put them in the book.
I cackled in my office reading The Barber of Seville and the Marriage of Figaro. The Guilty Mother is the weaker one of the three and less humorous. They are all entertaining drame bourgeois nonetheless!
Clever comedies that would certainly make for a nice evening at the theater, and beautifully translated here. But the operas by Messrs. Rossini and Mozart raise them to a whole new level—one of the few examples where an adaptation improves upon the original!