"The style lends wings to the action," says Lintilhac, "and is so full and keen that the prose rings almost like poetry while his phrases have become proverbs."
Perhaps the most remarkable passage of the whole play is that upon slander, which Beaumarchais puts into the mouth of Basile,
"Slander, sir! You scarcely know what you are disdaining. I have seen the best of men almost crushed under it. Believe me, there is no stupid calumny, no horror, not an absurd story that one cannot fasten upon the idle people of a great city if one only begins properly, and we have such clever folks!
"First comes a slight rumor, skimming the ground like a swallow before the storm, _pianissimo_, it murmurs and is gone, sowing behind its empoisoned traits.
"Some mouth takes it up, and _piano, piano_, it slips adroitly into the ear. The evil is done, it germinates, it grows, it flourishes, it makes its way, and _rinforzando_, from mouth to mouth it speeds onward; then suddenly, no one knows how, you see slander, erecting itself, hiss, swell, and grow big as you gaze. It darts forward, whirls, envelops, tears up, drags after it, thunders and becomes a general cry; a public _crescendo_, a universal chorus of hatred and proscription."
The _Barbier de Séville_ had gone through thirteen presentations when the time arrived for the closing of the theater for the three weeks before Easter. It was a time-honored custom on this occasion for one of the actors to come forward after the last performance was over, and deliver a discourse which was called the _compliment de clôture_. "Beaumarchais," says Loménie, "lover of innovation in everything, had the idea of replacing this ordinarily majestic discourse by a sort of proverb of one act, which should be played in the costumes of the _Barbier_." In explaining the composition of the proverb he says further, "It has not been sufficient for Beaumarchais to restore to the _Théâtre-Français_ some of the vivid gaiety of the olden time,--he wished for more, he desired not only that the people be made to laugh immoderately, but that one should sing in the theater of _Messieurs les comédiens du roi_." This was an enormity and essentially contrary to the dignity of the _Comédie-Française_. Nevertheless, as Beaumarchais had an obstinate will, the comedians to please him undertook to sing at the first representation the airs introduced into the _Barbier_; but whether the actors acquitted themselves badly at this unaccustomed task, or whether it was that the public did not like the innovation, all the airs were hissed without pity and it had been necessary to suppress them in the next presentation. There was one air in particular to which the author was strongly attached; it was the air of spring sung by Rosine in the third act. "_Quand dans la plaine_," etc. The amiable actress, Mademoiselle Doligny, who had created the rôle of Rosine, little used to singing in public, and still less to being hissed, refused absolutely to recommence the experiment and Beaumarchais had been forced to resign himself to the sacrifice of the air.