What do you think?
Rate this book
Noble Spaniard: Play
Marion Nairn, a young widow, is spending the summer together with her young sister Lucy at Boulogne with Justice Proudfoot and his wife. The Duke of Hermanos, who is also passing his Summer at Boulogne, one day catches sight of Marion, and from that time on, he is her devoted admirer. He stands outside the window and admires for a few days, but finally, he enters the house and declared his passion. Marion, ostensibly to get rid of him, tells him that she is married, whereupon he declares that her husband must die, and goes forth in search of him. When the maid tells him that Justice Proudfoot is the master of the house, he naturally mistakes that elderly gentleman for Marion's husband and challenges him to a duel, which of course brings Lady Proudfoot under her husband's suspicion. One after another, the men in the piece are mistaken by the impetuous foreigner for the husband of his adored one, and one after another, he tries to fight them all. In the end, Marion succumbs to this passion - it seems the only way to kill it.
76 pages, Paperback
First published December 31, 1948
14 people want to read
About the author
W. Somerset Maugham
2,131 books6,116 followersWilliam Somerset Maugham was born in Paris in 1874. He spoke French even before he spoke a word of English, a fact to which some critics attribute the purity of his style.
His parents died early and, after an unhappy boyhood, which he recorded poignantly in Of Human Bondage, Maugham became a qualified physician. But writing was his true vocation. For ten years before his first success, he almost literally starved while pouring out novels and plays.
Maugham wrote at a time when experimental modernist literature such as that of William Faulkner, Thomas Mann, James Joyce and Virginia Woolf was gaining increasing popularity and winning critical acclaim. In this context, his plain prose style was criticized as 'such a tissue of clichés' that one's wonder is finally aroused at the writer's ability to assemble so many and at his unfailing inability to put anything in an individual way.
During World War I, Maugham worked for the British Secret Service . He travelled all over the world, and made many visits to America. After World War II, Maugham made his home in south of France and continued to move between England and Nice till his death in 1965.
At the time of Maugham's birth, French law was such that all foreign boys born in France became liable for conscription. Thus, Maugham was born within the Embassy, legally recognized as UK territory.
His parents died early and, after an unhappy boyhood, which he recorded poignantly in Of Human Bondage, Maugham became a qualified physician. But writing was his true vocation. For ten years before his first success, he almost literally starved while pouring out novels and plays.
Maugham wrote at a time when experimental modernist literature such as that of William Faulkner, Thomas Mann, James Joyce and Virginia Woolf was gaining increasing popularity and winning critical acclaim. In this context, his plain prose style was criticized as 'such a tissue of clichés' that one's wonder is finally aroused at the writer's ability to assemble so many and at his unfailing inability to put anything in an individual way.
During World War I, Maugham worked for the British Secret Service . He travelled all over the world, and made many visits to America. After World War II, Maugham made his home in south of France and continued to move between England and Nice till his death in 1965.
At the time of Maugham's birth, French law was such that all foreign boys born in France became liable for conscription. Thus, Maugham was born within the Embassy, legally recognized as UK territory.
Ratings & Reviews
Friends & Following
Create a free account to discover what your friends think of this book!
Community Reviews
Displaying 1 of 1 review
May 16, 2015
Maugham at his most Oscar Wildian penned this comedic play of mistaken identity in 1908. Although not as funny or witty as The Ideal Woman, it certainly is worth a read, if not just for its wit then for its brevity, for any fan of Wilde or Maugham.
Displaying 1 of 1 review