CHAPTER XXXVI. "LE NOZZE DI FIGARO."
THE choice of Beaumarchais' comedy "Le Mariage de Figaro, ou La Folle Journée," as a subject for operatic treatment, was deliberately made by Mozart himself.[ 1 ] The LE MARIAGE DE FIGARO. play had excited unusual interest, both on account of the name and political position of the author and of the curious circumstances under which it had been produced in Paris. Beaumarchais had offered his comedy, towards the end of 1781, to the Théätre-Français, where it was readily accepted. But rumours prejudicial to the piece led Louis XVI. to have it read aloud in his presence; he was horrified at its freedom of tone, and declared that he would never consent to its performance. This only served to stimulate curiosity, and people thronged to hear the reading of the manuscript; a strong court party interested themselves for its production, the actors pressed for it, the public insisted upon it. Beaumarchais knew well how to turn all these circumstances to account; in June, 1783, his comedy was on the point of performance at the court theatre; the audience was actually assembled, when, just as the curtain was about to rise, a fresh prohibition arrived, from the King. Complaints of tyranny and oppression now became audible, and the affair assumed a political aspect. At length the King was prevailed upon to countenance a private representation at a festival given by M. de Vaudreuil to the Comte d'Artois in September, 1783. Beaumarchais contrived that this should lead to a public performance, which took place in April, 1784.[ 2 ] The unheard-of success of the play caused its reputation to spread rapidly, and Mozart's attention could not fail to be attracted to it, the more so as Paesiello's "Barbiere di Seviglia," founded on Beaumarchais' earlier comedy, had been well received in Vienna. Mozart's search for a suitable libretto among the Italian ones already published, and his attempt to produce a new one with. Varesco, were equally unsuccessful. The accepted form of opera buffa, relying for effect solely on broadly comic situations and caricature, did not satisfy Mozart's conditions of dramatic reality in the development of an interesting plot and a consistent delineation of character. Both conditions were amply fulfilled by Beaumarchais. "Le Nozze di Figaro" is well known to be in a certain sort a continuation of the "Barbiere di Seviglia."
The majority of the characters appear in both pieces, events belonging to the plot of "Figaro" are grounded on the previous play, and it is necessary for a proper appreciation of the motives and characterisation to bear the connection of the two in mind:—
Count Almaviva having, with Figaro's help, gained the hand of Rosina, the charming ward of Doctor Bartolo, takes Figaro and Marcellina, Rosina's duenna, into his service, and retires to his castle, attended also by Basilio, the music-master. He soon wearies of his wife's society, and seeks distraction in the company of Susanna, the Countess's maid and Figaro's affianced bride. Basilio is again made to act the part of a go-between. The piece begins on the day appointed for Figaro's wedding. Figaro, having learnt the Count's designs from Susanna, determines to outwit his master, and to prevent the success of his scheme for delaying the wedding. In this scheme the Count is offered assistance by Marcellina, who is in love with Figaro, and possesses his written undertaking to marry her should he fail in repaying her by a certain day a sum of money she has lent him. Her dread of losing all chance of Figaro, by his union with Susanna, induces her to call Bartolo to her assistance, and the latter is the more ready to do what he can, both that he may revenge himself on Figaro, and free himself from Marcellina's claims upon him. It appears that years ago she bore him a son, who was kidnapped as a child. While this danger is hanging over the heads of the lovers, Susanna is sought in her room by the page Cherubino, a heedless and beautiful youth, just budding into manhood. The Count has surprised him with Fanchette, daughter of his gardener Antonio, with whom he is himself flirting, and has discharged him from his service; he begs Susanna to intercede for him with the Countess, his godmother, for whom he entertains an ardent passion. As they converse, they hear the Count approaching, and Cherubino hides behind a large arm-chair; the Count has come to offer Susanna a dowry if she will consent to meet him the same evening; she, however, vigorously repulses him. Basilio enters: the Count hides behind the same arm-chair, and Cherubino slips round to the front, and covers himself with a cloak which lies upon the chair. Basilio reiterates to Susanna the Count's proposals, and, on her continued refusal, makes malicious allusions to the page, who is paying court not only to Susanna, but to the Countess. The Count comes forward in a fury, orders the immediate dismissal of the page, tells how he found him concealed in the gardener's house, and discovers him in the arm-chair. But Cherubino has been a witness to all that has passed, and, in order to conciliate and get rid of him at the same time, the Count gives him a commission in his regiment, ordering his immediate departure for Seville, to join the garrison there. At this point Figaro enters at the head of the villagers in holiday attire. The Count, at his marriage, had BEAUMARCHAIS' FIGARO. renounced his seignorial rights, and, instigated by Figaro, his grateful subjects come to petition him to honour the first wedding which has since been celebrated by himself placing the wreath on the head of the bride. The Count cannot refuse the petition, but begs for a few hours delay, in order that the ceremony may be rendered more brilliant. Figaro in the meantime is plotting a double intrigue against the Count, with the co-operation of the Countess, who has been kept informed of all that is going on by her devoted Susanna. Her relations to Figaro and Susanna, and her ready acquiescence in a design to recall her husband to a sense of his duty by means of a trick, keep us in mind that the Countess Almaviva is the Rosina of the "Barber of Seville." She loves her husband, and has a full consciousness of her own dignity; but the circumstances of her early life, and of her marriage with Count Almaviva, have left their indelible impress upon her. Figaro warns the Count, who has gone hunting, by an anonymous letter that a rival has made an assignation with the Countess; he hopes that jealousy will divert his mind from the wedding. On the other side he assures him of Susanna's intention to keep her appointment in the garden; Cherubino, who has been allowed to delay his departure at Figaro's intercession, is to be disguised so as to take Susanna's place at the interview. |The page comes to be dressed; all at once the Count knocks, having hurried home in jealous haste. Cherubino slips into the inner room, of which the Countess locks the door; as the Count is plying her with angry questions Cherubino throws down a chair; the Countess explains that Susanna is within, but refuses to allow her to come out, or even to answer, and will not give up the key. The Count, enraged, secures all means of egress, and drags the Countess away with him to fetch an axe and break the door open. Susanna, who has been concealed in an alcove during this scene, proceeds to liberate Cherubino; he, finding no other exit available, springs through the window into the garden, and Susanna takes his place in the cabinet. The Count returning with the Countess, determined to employ force in opening the door, she confesses that the page is in the inner chamber, whereby his rage is still further excited; to the astonishment of them both Susanna steps forth. The Countess soon collects herself, and explains that their only intention has been to punish him for his want of faith, and that Figaro wrote the letter as a preliminary to the trick; the Count is forced to sue for pardon, which he obtains with difficulty. Figaro now enters with the information that all is prepared for the wedding, and being taxed by the Count with the letter, denies all knowledge of it, and is with difficulty brought to understand the position of affairs. This danger is hardly over when the gardener enters, half tipsy, with the complaint that some one has just jumped from the window of the cabinet upon his flowers; Figaro declares that he was there with Susanna, and had jumped into the garden from fear of the Count's fury. The gardener says that he thought he had recognised Cherubino, but hands Figaro a paper which LE NOZZE DI FIGARO. had been dropped in the garden. The Count, his suspicions newly awakened, demands the contents of the paper; the Countess recognises in it the page's patent, and whispers through Susanna to Figaro, who is able to ward off this fresh danger. Marcellina now appears supported by Bartolo, and makes known Figaro's promise of marriage; the Count, in high delight, promises to support her claims in a court of justice, and by dismissing Basilio, who puts forward his claims to Marcellina's hand, revenges himself for the letter which Basilio had presented to him.
Before the sitting of the court the Countess conceives the design of herself taking Susanna's place at the rendezvous with the Count. The trial which takes place results in Figaro's being ordered to pay his debt to Marcellina, or in default to marry her. The Count appears at the goal of his wishes, but Figaro's evasion—that he must have the consent of his parents—leads to the discovery that he is the long-lost son of Bartolo and Marcellina, who thereupon decide to celebrate their espousals together with his; Susanna, entering with money obtained from the Countess to redeem Figaro, is indignant at finding him in Marcellina's arms, but her anger is speedily turned to delight at hearing the true position of affairs.
During the solemn wedding ceremony—at which Cherubino, disguised as Fanchette, appears among the village maidens and is recognised—Susanna gives the Count a letter dictated by the Countess, in which she appoints the place of rendezvous; a pin which is stuck into the letter is to be returned as a token of understanding. Figaro sees that the Count reads the letter and pricks himself with the pin, without noticing that Susanna has given it to him; hearing afterwards from Fanchette that she is commissioned by the Count to convey the pin back to Susanna, he easily surmises what it means. Beside himself with jealousy, he stations his parents and friends in the neighbourhood of the appointed place, and repairs thither himself to surprise and punish the guilty pair.
In the darkness of night the Countess and Susanna, having exchanged clothes, come to put their husbands to the proof; Susanna has been warned by Marcellina of Figaro's designs. Scarcely is the Countess alone, when she is alarmed by the approach of Cherubino, who presses a kiss on the supposed Susanna; the Count, entering on the instant, salutes the page with a box on the ear, which is received instead by the listening Figaro. Alone with the Countess, the Count addresses her in the most endearing terms, presents her with money, and with a costly ring, and endeavours to go off with her; she escapes him in the darkness, and he seeks her in vain.
In the meantime Susanna, as the Countess, comes to the enraged Figaro, but forgetting for a moment to disguise her voice, he recognises her, and turns the tables by proposing to her to revenge herself for her lord's want of faith by her own, whereupon she makes herself known by DA PONTE'S LIBRETTO. boxing his ears. Peace is easily restored by his explanation, and as the Count approaches, seeking his Susanna, they continue to counterfeit love. The Count in a rage calls for his people with torches, Figaro's friends hasten in, and with them the Countess. The Count, to his shame, discovers that it was his wife who accepted his presents and declarations of love, and the pardon which she accords to him brings the confusion to an end.
Such is a mere outline of this amusing play of intrigue, where one knot twisting in with another, one embarrassment growing out of another, call forth ever and again fresh contrivances, while an abundance of effective situations and characteristic detail make the witty and satirical dialogue one of the most graphic character pictures of the time.[ 3 ] Da Ponte has arranged his libretto with much skill, having no doubt received important aid from Mozart himself. The progress of the piece is left almost unaltered, the necessary abbreviations being judiciously made.[ 4 ] Thus, the lengthy trial scene is omitted, and only the result in its bearing on the plot is communicated. Sometimes an under-plot is added, such as Basilio's appearance as Marcellina's lover. The clearness of the plot is not often endangered, as it certainly is by the alteration which omits all mention of a son of Bartolo and Marcellina previous to their recognition of Figaro as their offspring. The musical pieces are introduced with admirable discrimination in such positions as to allow free and natural scope to the musical rendering of each situation without hindering the progress of the plot, and this is no small praise in such a piece as "Figaro." The whole scheme of the drama demands that quite as much attention shall be given to the ensemble movements and finales as LE NOZZE DI FIGARO. the solo airs; and this is of great advantage to the musical construction. The definite and prearranged progress of the action fulfils all the conditions of operatic representation with regard to the position and diversity of the musical pieces; the poetical conceptions are clever and appropriate, a suggestion of Beaumarchais being often amplified in the musical working-out. The French comedy was of wonderful advantage in maintaining the dialogue; and, shortened and modified as it was of necessity, it retained far more of the spirit and life of the original than was usual in the recitatives of opera buffa. This is not indeed the case as far as the German adaptations of the opera are concerned. I am not aware whence proceeded the first translation made use of in Berlin in 1790.[ 5 ] In 1791 Knigge adapted the opera for Schroder in Hamburg;[ 6 ] in 1792 it was given in Vienna, translated by Gieseke; and in 1794 Vulpius's translation appeared. A new translation, giving not only Da Ponte's verses, but Mozart's improvements on them, is a pressing necessity. The vast superiority of "Le Nozze di Figaro," in characterisation, plot, and dialogue, to the very best of opera buffa libretti may be easily discerned by comparing it with other famous operas, such as Casti's "Re Teodoro" or "Grotta di Trofonio." In many essential points "Figaro" overstepped the limits of opera buffa proper, and brought to view entirely new elements of dramatic construction. The political element indeed, on which perhaps most of the effect of the comedy depended, was altogether omitted from the opera. Not only does the dialogue receive its essential character from the satire and scorn which it freely casts upon the abuses of political and social life—the whole tendency of the play is to depict the nobleman of the period, who, himself without truth and honour, demands both from others, indulges his lust without scruple, and thereby causes his dependents, injured in their moral rights, to turn against him their intellectual superiority, so that he is finally DA PONTE'S LIBRETTO. worsted and disgraced. This conception of the nobility and their position in relation to the citizen class is expressed with energy and malice, and found such a response in the prevailing opinions of the time, that the production of the piece against the expressed will of the King appeared to be a public confirmation of the principles which inspired it; and Napoleon might with justice say of "Figaro": "C'était la révolution déjà en action."[ 7 ] Every trace of these feelings has vanished in the opera, as will be clearly perceived by a comparison of the celebrated "Frondeur-monologue" of Figaro in the fifth act with the jealous song in the opera. The omission was made not so much in deference to the Emperor Joseph's scruples as with the right conviction that the political element is altogether out of place in music.
The omission of political satire is the more serious because it leaves as the central point of the plot an immorality which is not exactly justified, but not by any means seriously punished; only treated with a certain frivolity. The noble libertine is opposed by true and upright love, honest devotion to duty and honourable conduct; but these moral qualities are not made in themselves effective; the true levers of the plot are cunning and intrigue employed as weapons of defence. The whole piece appears in a doubtful light, the atmosphere surrounding Count Almaviva is impure, and the suppression of those circumstances which could alone make the phenomenon natural affects more or less the whole spirit of the plot, and deprives the dialogue of much of its point and double meaning.
Beaumarchais might fairly plead that, having undertaken to give a true picture of the manners of his time, absolute truth of conception and detail was necessary to insure the right moral effect; it was for a later age to perceive how completely the author of the satire was himself under the influence of the time which he depicts and would fain improve. This justification is denied to the opera. It has no title to be considered as a picture of morals, neither can it pretend to exercise any direct influence, whether moral or LE NOZZE DI FIGARO. political, on the minds of men. The dialogue is undoubtedly in many respects purer than in the comedy; but the plot and its motives, the chief situations, the whole point of view, become all the more decidedly frivolous. How came it, then the Mozart could choose such a subject for his opera, and that the public could accept it with approbation? It must in the first place be borne in mind that the facts on which the plot is founded, and the point of view from which these facts are regarded, had at that time substantial truth and reality; men were not shocked at seeing on the stage that which they had themselves experienced, and knew to be going on in their own homes. A later age is disgusted by the contrast between semblance and reality, and at the representation of immorality in all its nakedness; the taste of the time demands that it shall be shown after another form and fashion. A glance at the entertaining literature, and even at the operas of the last half of the eighteenth century, shows clearly that representation of immorality plays an important part therein in a form which bespeaks the temper and spirit of the time; and further, that a desire for the representation of moral depravity is an infallible symptom of moral disease. It cannot, therefore, be wondered at that a picture of the moral corruption which penetrated all classes, from the highest to the lowest, and which had brought all social and political relations to the verge of dissolution, should have been regarded with eager approbation and enjoyment. The age which produced and enjoyed "Figaro" took a lighter view of sensual gratification and the moral turpitude connected therewith than that which seems right to a generation grown serious by reason of higher aims and nobler struggles. It need not here be discussed how far manners and opinions which change with the times are to be regarded as absolute morality; the point we are proving is undeniable, and is apparent, often painfully so, in all the light literature and memoirs of the day. Caroline Pichler writes in reference to this very period:[ 8 ]—
There prevailed a taste for all that was beautiful and pleasant in Vienna at that time. The mind had freer movement than at present, and anything might be written and printed which was not in the strictest sense of the word contrary to religion and the state. There was not nearly so much stress laid upon good manners. Plays and romances of a tolerably free tendency were admitted and discussed in good society. Kotzebue was very much thought of. His pieces, as well as Gemmingen's "Deutscher Hausvater," Schroder's "Ring," and many others which are sunk in oblivion, together with a number of tales and romances (Meissner's sketches above all) were founded on indecent subjects. They were read without scruple or concealment by all the world, and every young girl.
I myself saw and read them all repeatedly; "Oberon" I knew well, and Meissner's "Alcibiades." No mother felt any scruple at allowing her daughter to become acquainted with such works; and indeed living examples of what we read moved before us with so little concealment of their irregular and immoral doings, that it would not have been possible for any mother to keep her daughter in ignorance on these points.
It is sufficient to refer to the reading of Wieland's works.
What can be more repugnant to our ideas than to find a young girl writing to her lover:—
I hope you will soon get the new "Amadis"; it is the funniest, most whimsical book. I wonder how you will like Olinda! Master Amadis is a little too like butter—he melts in every sunbeam.
Our wonder increases when we reflect that this young girl is Caroline Flachsland, and her lover is Herder.[ 9 ] There can be no doubt that in this respect Mozart was a child of his time; that he willingly allowed himself to glide along the pleasant stream of life in Vienna, and that his merrier moods were often productive of free and even coarse jests. The frivolous element in Beaumarchais' comedy was not, therefore, likely to repel him, although it would be unfair to assert that it mainly attracted him; he accepted it, as others did, as the sauce which was most likely to be of acceptable flavour.
His chief concern was doubtless the gradual unfolding and continual interest of the plot, and the graphic delineation of character, qualities which were entirely overlooked by the ordinary opera buffa. Any approach to probability or analogy with actual life was not thought of, and was LE NOZZE DI FIGARO. not often replaced even by a fanciful poetic vein of humour; attempts to give consistency to the caricatures of individuals and situations only served to bring their irreconcilable contrasts into stronger relief. In "Figaro," on the contrary, the interest depends upon, the truth the representation of actual life. The motives of the actors are serious, they are carried out with energy and intellect, and from them the situations are naturally developed; only the light in which they are all portrayed is that of Beaumarchais' strongly accented "gaieté," which is by no means innocent, and in its essence nothing less than musical. It is one of the strongest proofs of Mozart's genius that he should have undertaken, moved as he was by the dramatic signification of the piece, to infuse a new soul into it by his musical treatment; so sure was he that whatever came home to his mind might be used as the germ of a living creation. The musical representation, however, could only be a true one by relying entirely on the emotions which alone are capable of being expressed in music.[ 10 ] The whole piece is raised to a higher sphere by the subordination of the powers of understanding and intellect, which Beaumarchais had made the chief factors in his design. Beaumarchais' aim was to preserve his plot and characters from vulgarity or caricature; the point of view whence the musical reconstruction proceeded led inevitably to an ennobling of the whole representation. In depicting emotions, whether as the impulse to action, or as giving significance even to the least commendable promptings of the mind, the musician was in his own element, and the MUSICAL TREATMENT OF THE DRAMA. wealth of dramatic situations and characters was a pure gain to an artist who knew how to turn it to account. The piercing eye of genius finds materials for its finest performance where a more superficial view reveals nothing but difficulties. If each of the characters, pursuing the interests they have at heart, are to express their inner sentiments at every point in conformity with their nature, it follows that the aim of dramatic characterisation in its true sense must be the representation of individuality, sharp and precise in form, true and pure as to its source; thus only will the exaggeration of caricature be avoided. This holds good of all the chief characters in "Figaro"—of the Count and Countess, Figaro, Susanna, and Cherubino. They are so entirely governed by their emotions and passions, so completely involved in the complications proceeding therefrom, that an artistic representation must depend on the depicting of these emotions in their fullest truth.
Bartolo and Marcellina seem to invite a treatment in caricature. In the "Barber of Seville" we find the same Bartolo as a buffo character. This is made impossible here by the fact that they are to appear afterwards as Figaro's parents, and ought not, therefore, to cut grotesque figures in our eyes. Beaumarchais' point, that Marcellina gives herself airs of superiority to Susanna, "parce qu'elle a fait quelques études et tourmenté la jeunesse de Madame" is not available for musical characterisation, but Mozart brings it out skilfully in another way. In the duet (Act I., 5), in which Susanna and Marcellina vie with each other in impertinence and provocation, the expression is toned down by the actual, disputing being left to the orchestra, and the two women are put quite on an equality. Susanna prevails over Marcellina only by reason of her youthful grace, and the whole appears an outbreak of that jealous susceptibility which is said to be an attribute of the female sex. Nobler women would not yield to such impulses, but these two belong to no exalted sphere, and give the rein to their angry humours. But they never forget themselves so far as to offend delicacy, and the general tone is a gay one, Marcellina being shown in no way inferior to LE NOZZE DI FIGARO. Susanna.[ 11 ] Afterwards, when graver matters engage her, when she asserts her claims upon Figaro in the first finale, or recognises him as her son in the sestet, the musical expression is sustained and full of true feeling. A singer who was able to form her conception of the part from these touches of character would make of Marcellina something quite different from the ordinary old housekeeper, whom we have unhappily been used to see and hear, no doubt from a mistaken endeavour to render the illusion that Figaro's mother must be an old woman, and sing like an old woman. Marcellina's air (Act IV., 2)," on the other hand, does not assist the characterisation, and is the only piece in the whole opera which fails of its effect. The whole style of it, even to the passages, is old-fashioned, like the traditional air for a seconda donna; it appears to have been a concession made to the taste of the singer. Basilio, the man of cold intellect and malicious cunning, is not a figure which can be made comic by caricature. Mich. Kelly (1764-1825), for whom it was written, was an Irishman, who had studied in Naples, and was highly successful as a tenor in Italy and Vienna; his powers as a mimic fitted him especially for comic parts.[ 12 ] Basilio's malice and scorn are expressed in the terzet (Act I., 7) with delicacy and character, and, in contrast with Susanna's painful excitement and the Count's anger, they give to the piece an irony, such as has seldom found expression in music. The point justly noted by Ulibicheff (II., p. 45 ) that Basilio, in his attempts to pacify the Count after finding the page in the arm-chair, repeats the words: "Ah, del paggio quel ch' ho detto era solo un mio sospetto," a fifth higher, brings out in a striking degree his character of refined malice. The effect is heightened by the use of the same motif by the Count, when he is BASILIO. telling how he found the page with Barberina; and it is attained in the simplest manner by the natural development of the musical structure. Basilio falls into the background in the course of the opera; the comic way in which Beaumarchais makes him banished by the Count, and his courtship of
Marcellina, would have afforded good operatic situations, but abbreviation and simplification were absolutely necessary, and much that was not essential had to be sacrificed. The air which is given to Basilio in the last act (Act IV., 3) scarcely affords compensation. Da Ponte, deprived of Beaumarchais' guidance in this place, makes Basilio illustrate by the fable of the asses' skin that those who can flatter and deceive succeed in the world. The musical rendering follows the story, the orchestra giving the characteristic detail. The expression of ease and self-complacency, and above all the incomparable idea, deservedly noticed by Ulibicheff, of turning the last sentence of the heartless poltroon: "Onte, pericoli, vergogna e morte col cuojo d' asino fuggir si puö," into a sort of parody of a triumphal march, give the air a character of its own". Executed with humour and delicate mimicry it becomes in fact an epitome of Basilio's character, with its utter want of genial qualities. But tone-painting occurs only in such touches as those of the storm, the yelping dog, the hurried retreat, and never comes to the foreground. This means of effect, elsewhere so favourite a device in opera buffa, is always sparingly used by Mozart. The "Din din, don, don," in the duet between Susanna and Figaro (Act I., 2) can scarcely be called tone-painting any more than it can be said to be word-painting; it is hardly more than an interjection, which has the advantage in its musical rendering of being incorporated as a motif in the structure of the piece. Nor can the term be justly applied to the march like tone of Figaro's "Non più andrai" (Act I., 9). Certain forms and phrases have developed themselves in music as expressions of warlike ideas, and they are employed as a matter of course where these ideas occur; Figaro, describing to the page the military life before him, has it mirrored as it were by the orchestra. Mozart wisely guards against entering LE NOZZE DI FIGARO. upon any musical details in the picture, which would have led to a distorted tone-painting; he confines himself to the barest and most general allusions produced by association of ideas. It is often difficult to decide how far the association of ideas contributes to the partly involuntary, partly conscious construction of the musical expression. For instance in the first duet between Figaro and Susanna (Act I., 1), the motif for the bass—[See Page Image]
with the corresponding one for the first violins, goes very well with Figaro's measuring of the room, the diminutions expressing clearly enough his repeated stretches. It cannot be doubted that the situation has suggested the motif, but whether Mozart intended to express the action of measurement is far less certain, and any idea of tone-painting is out of the question. The subordinate characters of the drunken gardener Antonio and the stuttering judge Don Curzio might under other circumstances have been made into caricatures in the sense of opera buffa, but they appear in situations which have so decided a character of a totally different kind that they could not have departed from it without serious injury to that harmony of the whole which none knew better than Mozart how to preserve. The little cavatina (Act IV., 1)
for Barbarina, (Fanchette in Beaumarchais) is very significantly not exactly caricatured, but drawn in stronger colours than is elsewhere the case. This little maid, in her liking for Cherubino, and with an open-hearted candour which makes her a true enfant terrible to the Count, is altogether childish, and not only naïve but unformed. It is, therefore, natural that she should express her grief for the lost pin, and her fear of punishment, like a child; and when we hear her sobbing and crying over it we receive the same ludicrous impression which grown-up people rarely fail to feel at the sight of a child expressing the sorrow of his heart with an energy quite out of proportion to the occasion. The fact that the strong accents which Mozart here multiplies to produce the effect of the disproportion of childish FIGARO. ideas are afterwards made use of to express real emotion does no injury to the truth of his characterisation. In a similar way the expression of sentiment is exaggerated when it is represented as feigned; as, for instance, the last finale, when Figaro makes love to the supposed Countess, whom he has recognised as Susanna, and grows more and more vehement in order to excite the Count's jealousy. Here we have a parody of the accents of strongest passion (Vol. II., p. 427). How differently does the same Figaro express his true feelings! How simple and genuine is the expression of his love in the first duet (Act I., 1), when he interrupts his measurements to exclaim to his pretty bride, with heartfelt joy: "Si, mio core, or è più bello!" and in the last finale, when he puts an end to pretence and, in an exalted mood, with the feeling of his newly won, safely assured happiness fresh upon him, exclaims: "Pace! pace, mio dolce tesoro!" Equally true is Figaro's expression of the jealousy which results from his love. At first indeed this feeling is a curiously mingled one. Warned by Susanna herself, he has full confidence in her, and feels all his intellectual superiority to the Count; he contemplates his situation with a humour which is admirably rendered in the celebrated cavatina (Act I., 3). Cheerfully as it begins, the expression of superciliousness and versatility has a tinge of bitterness and resentment, betraying how nearly he is touched by the affair which he affects to treat so lightly. Afterwards, when he believes himself deceived, grief and anger are strongly expressed in the recitative preceding his air (Act IV., 4). But his originality asserts itself even here. The consciousness of what his situation has of the ludicrous never forsakes him, and his anger against the whole female sex, which he works up more and more, involuntarily assumes a comic character. Here we have one of the many points which Mozart added to the text.
The somewhat unflattering description of womankind runs—
Queste chiamate dee
Son streghe che incantano per farci penar,
Sirene che cantano per farci affogar,
Civette che allettano per trarci le piume,
Comete che brillano per toglierci il lume—
and so on, until at the end—
Amore non senton, non senton pietà—
Il resto non dico, già ognuno lo sà.
He has no sooner pronounced the fatal "il resto non dico," when he seems unable to get out any more; and so it runs—
Son streghe che incantano—il resto non dico
Sirene che cantano—il resto non dico, &c.—
giving, opportunity for a corresponding musical treatment of the words. At last Mozart makes the horns strike in unexpectedly and finish the phrase for him in a manner full of musical fun. As the consciousness grows upon Figaro that he is himself the injured party, his signs of grief and pain grow stronger and more animated. The blending of warm feeling with the involuntarily comic expression of intellectual reaction is psychologically true, and in such a character as Figaro's inevitable; it is embodied in the music in a form very different to that of an ordinary buffo aria. Not less true to nature is Figaro's resigned expression of disappointed love further on, when, having the evidence of his own senses that Susanna has been unfaithful to him, he ejaculates: "Tutto è tranquillo." But such a mood as this could not be a lasting one with Figaro, and changes at once upon Susanna's entrance. Benucci, for whom Mozart wrote Figaro, possessed an "extremely round, full, fine bass voice." He was considered a first-rate actor as well as singer, and had the rare merit of never exaggerating.[ 13 ] The individual characterisation is still more sharply defined when several personages appear together in similar situations. Immediately upon the air where Figaro declares war upon the Count (Act I., 3) follows Bartolo's air (Act I., 5) [ 14 ] in which the latter announces his approaching victory over Figaro. He also is altogether in earnest; Figaro has cruelly deceived him, and the long-looked-for BARTOLO. opportunity of vengeance is close at hand: "Tutta Sevilla conosce Bartolo, il birbo Figaro vinto sarà." He is full of pride and self-consciousness—
La vendetta è un piacer serbato ai saggi,
L' obliar l' onte, gl' oltraggi
E bassezza, è ognor viltà—
and the air begins with the forcible and impulsive expression of this self-consciousness enhanced by rapid instrumentation; Bartolo feels the injury done to him, and his obligation in honour to avenge himself, and the sincerity of this feeling invests him with a certain amount of dignity. But—his character has none of the elements of true greatness; as soon as he begins to descant on the way in which he is to outwit Figaro, his grovelling spirit betrays itself; he excites himself with his own chatter, and complacently announces his own triumph beforehand. Bartolo's dignity is not, however, a parody on his true self; the comic element consists in the contrast of the pride which lays claim to dignity and the small-mindedness which unwittingly forfeits the claim. The German translations lose the chief point of the characterisation. Capitally expressed is the original: "coll' astuzia, coll' arguzia, col giudizio, col criterio, si potrebbe——" here the orchestra takes up the motif of the words "è basezza," as if to edge him on, but soon subsides, as he recollects himself: "si potrebbe, si potrebbe"—suddenly interrupted by "il fatto è serio," to which the whole orchestra responds with a startling chord; thereupon he resumes with calm self-confidence: "ma, credete, si farà," and then launches into the flood of trivialities with which he seeks to bolster up his courage.
Steffano Mandini, the original Count Almaviva, was considered by Kelly as one of the first buffos of the day,[ 15 ] and Choron used to hold him up to his scholars as his ideal of a singer.[ 16 ] At the moment when Susanna has hearkened to; his suit, he infers from a word let fall by her that she has LE NOZZE DI FIGARO. deceived him. Injured pride, disappointed hope, and jealousy of his happier rival, excite him to a pitch of passion which breaks out in true cavalier fashion with the words (Act III., 2).: "vedrò, mentr' io sospiro, felice un servo mio!" What a world of expression Mozart has thrown into these words! While disappointed but unvanquished passion presses its sting deep into his heart, injured pride flares up prepared to give place to no other feeling than that of revenge. In the wonderful passage which follows with renewed force upon the immediately preceding tones of sharp complaint—[See Page Image] the change from major to minor brouight about by the chromatic passage in the middle parts is of inimitable effect.[ 17 ] We have before us the nobleman, feeling his honour affronted because he is not allowed to injure that of his servant, and there is in the expression of his revengeful desires and his certainty of victory no tinge of Figaro's cunning or Bartolo's meanness; the stream of passion flows full and unmingled, and the noble position of the Count gives it a certain amount of composure; his weakness excites regret rather than contempt or even ridicule. The expression of this air corresponds to the musical conception of the Count throughout the opera, in making his feelings of injured pride outweigh those of disappointed desire. Pride, jealousy, or anger, unjustifiable as they may be in their outbreaks, are always more dignified and nobler motives than a love-making whose only foundation is licentiousness, and its only excuse frivolity. He gives free play to this feeling in THE COUNT. the enchanting duet with Susanna (Act III., 1); but the situation is rendered endurable to the audience by the knowledge that Susanna is playing a part to please the Countess. Mozart has given this little duet a title to be placed in the first rank of musical works of art by the delicacy with which he has rendered the mixture of encouragement and coyness in Susanna's demeanour, her true motives being as clear to the audience as is the misunderstanding of the Count. The harmonic turns of her evasive answer to his passionate request, "Signor, la donna ognora tempo ha di dir si," are masterpieces of musical diplomacy. Even the piquant conceit by which she answers his urgent questions, "Verrai? non mancherai?" with "si" instead of "no," and vice versa, to his great perplexity, has something more than a merely comic signification.[ 18 ] It characterises most strikingly the security with which she plays with his passion as expressed in these eager, flattering requests. Even here, delight at his hard-won victory predominates over his sensual impulses.
The sensual element of love plays far too great a part in "Figaro," however, to be altogether disregarded in its musical rendering. It would be a difficult matter to determine how far and in what way music is capable of giving artistic expression to this side of the tender passion; but it cannot be disputed that Mozart has in this respect competed successfully with the sister arts of painting and poetry. In Susanna's so-called garden air (Act IV., 5) her longing for her betrothed is expressed with all the tender intensity of purest beauty; but the simple notes, cradled as it were in blissful calm, that seem to be breathed forth "soft as the balmy breath of eve," glow with a mild warmth that stirs the heart to its depth, entrancing the mind, and intoxicating the senses like the song of the nightingale. The pizzicato accompaniment of the air fitly suggests a serenade. It gives the voice free scope, and the sparely introduced wind instruments, as well as the tender passage for the first violin towards the close, only serve to give a finer emphasis to the LE NOZZE DI FIGARO. full body of the voice. The impression of longing delight is intensified by the simplicity of the harmonies, as if from fear of disturbing by any sudden change the calm bliss of the passing moment. But what analysis can penetrate these mysteries of creative genius[ 19 ] Mozart was right to let the feelings of the loving maiden shine forth in all their depth and purity, for Susanna has none but her Figaro in her mind, and the sentiments she expresses are her true ones. Figaro in his hiding-place, listening and suspecting her of waiting the Count's arrival, throws, a cross light on the situation, which, however, only receives its full dramatic signification by reason of the truth of Susanna's expression of feeling. Susanna, without her sensual charm is inconceivable, and a tinge of sensuality is an essential element of her nature; but Mozart has transfigured it into a noble purity which may fitly be compared with the grandest achievements of Greek sculpture.
Nancy Storace (1761-1814), "who possessed in a degree unique at that time, and rare at any time, all the gifts, the cultivation, and the skill which could be desired for Italian comic opera,"[ 20 ] seems to have been a singer to whom Mozart was able to intrust the rendering of this mixture of sentiment and sensuality. When "Figaro" was reproduced in July, 1789, he wrote for Adriana Ferrarese del Bene,[ 21 ] a less refined and finished singer, the air "Al desio di chi t'adora" (577 K.), retaining the RONDO FOR SUSANNA. accompanied recitative.[ 22 ] The words of this song—
Al desio di chi t' adora
Vieni, vola, o mia speranza,
Morirö, se indarno ancora
Tu mi lasci sospirar.
Le promesse, i giuramenti
Deh! ramenta, o mio tesoro!
E i momenti di ristoro
Che mi fece amor aperar.
Ah! che omai più non resisto
All' ardor, che il sen m' accende.
Chi d' amor gli affetti intende,
Compatisca il mio penar.
with the reference to vows and hopes unfulfilled seem better suited to the Countess than to Susanna, though the air is clearly indicated for the latter. Apparently the song was intended to strengthen Figaro in the delusion that it was the Countess he saw before him. The device might intensify the situation, but it was a loss to the musical characterisation, for the air was not altogether appropriate either to Susanna or the Countess. The singer had evidently wished for a grand, brilliant air, and Mozart humoured her by composing the air in two broadly designed and elaborately executed movements, allied in style to the great airs in "Cosi fan Tutte," and in "Titus." The bravura of the voice and orchestra is as entirely foreign to "Figaro" as is the greater display of sensual vigour with which the longing for the beloved one is expressed. Apart from its individual characterisation, the air has wonderful effects of sound and expression, greatly heightened by the orchestra. Basset-horns, bassoons, and horns are employed, occasionally concertante, giving a singularly full and soft tone-colouring to the whole. A draft score, unfortunately incomplete, in Mozart's handwriting, testifies to a later abandoned attempt for a similar song. The superscription is "Scena con Rondo"[ 23 ] the person indicated, Susanna. The beginning of the recitative, both in words and music, is like that of the better-known LE NOZZE DI FIGARO. song, and it expresses the same idea somewhat more diffusely as it proceeds, closing in B flat major. The solitary leaf preserved breaks off at the eighth bar of the rondo; only the voice-part and the bass are given—[See Page Image]
but even this fragment of text and melody suffices to show a complete contrast to the air just mentioned. A little ariette preserved in Mozart's original score and marked "Susanna" (579 K.), has still less of the delicate characterisation which we admire so much in the opera.[ 24 ]The words—
Un moto di gioja
Mi sento nel petto,
Che annunzia diletto
In mezzo il timor.
Speriamo che in contento
Finisca l' affanno,
Non sempre è tiranno fato ed amor—
are trifling, and so commonplace that they suggest no particular situation. Even the music, hastily thrown together and light in every respect, expresses only a superficially excited mood. If, as is probable, the air was intended for the dressing scene,[ 25 ] the want of individual characterisation SUSANNA. becomes all the more observable. It would be a great mistake to consider the character of Susanna as a mere expression of amorous sensuality. This side of it is judiciously displayed first without any reserve, in order to throw into relief her not less real qualities of devoted affection, faithful service, and refined and playful humour. The very scene, not in itself altogether unobjectionable, in which the ladies disguise the page, is turned into an amusing joke by Susanna's innocent and charming merriment. Susanna's air in this scene (Act II., 3) is, technically speaking, a cabinet piece. The orchestra executes an independent piece of music, carefully worked-out and rounded in most delicate detail, which admirably renders the situation, and yet only serves as a foil to the independent voice-part. A tone of playful humour runs through the whole long piece from beginning to end; it is the merriment of youth, finding an outlet in jest and teasing, expressed with all possible freshness and grace. But the high spirit of youth does not exclude deeper feelings where more serious matters are concerned; in the terzet (Act II., 4) where Susanna in her hiding-place listens to the dialogue between the Count and Countess, she displays deep emotion, and expresses her sympathy with truth and gravity. Mozart has indeed grasped this painful situation with a depth of feeling which raises the terzet far above ordinary opera buffa.[ 26 ] In her relations to Figaro, Susanna displays now one, now the other side of her nature. It is judiciously arranged that immediately succeeding her first heartfelt, though not sentimental expression of love (Act I., 1), the second duet (Act I., 2), should display her merry humour. Her consciousness of superiority over Figaro, who learns the Count's designs first through her, combined with the ease of her relations towards them both, resulting from the honesty of her love, enable her to carry off the difficult situation with LE NOZZE DI FIGARO. a spirit and youthful gaiety which contrast with Figaro's deeper emotions. He begins indeed with unrestrained merriment, but the same motif, mockingly repeated by Susanna, becomes a warning which has so serious an effect upon him that not even her endearments can quite succeed in chasing the cloud from his brow.[ 27 ] The ground-tone of the duet, the intercourse of affianced lovers, is expressed with the utmost warmth and animation, and places us at once in the possession of the true state of affairs. Before the end comes, however, we see the couple testing each other's fidelity and measuring their intellectual strength against each other, as when in the last finale Susanna, in the Countess's clothes, puts Figaro to the proof, and he, recognising her, takes his clue accordingly. This duet sparkles with life and joviality, rising, after the explanation, to the most winning expression of tender love.
The characters of the Countess and Cherubino are much less complicated than that of Susanna. The Countess is represented as a loving wife, injured by a jealous and faithless husband. The musical characterisation gives no suggestion of any response, however faint and soon stifled, to the page's advances, but is the most charming expression of ideal purity of sentiment. She suffers, but not yet hopelessly, and the unimpaired consciousness of her own love forbids her to despair of the Count's. Thus she is presented to us in her two lovely songs. The calm peace of a noble mind upon which sorrow and disappointment have cast the first light shadow—too light seriously to trouble its serenity—is expressed with intensest feeling in the first air (Act II., 1). The second (Act III., 4),
when she is on the point of taking a venturous step to recall the Count to her side, is more agitated, and, in spite of the melancholy forebodings which she cannot quite repress, gives expression to a joyful hope of returning happiness. There is no strong passion even here; the Count's affronts CHERUBINO. excite her anger, and the dilemma in which she is, placed awakens her youthful pleasure in teasing. This reminiscence of Rosina in earlier years, combined with the consciousness of her true feeling, so finely expressed by the music, may in some measure supply the motive for the deceit which she thinks herself justified in using towards the Count. Signora Laschi, who took the part of the Countess, was highly esteemed in Italy, but was not a great favourite in Vienna.[ 28 ] Signora Bussani, on the other hand, who appeared for the first time as the page, although not a singer of the first rank, was much admired by the public for her beautiful figure and unreserved acting,[ 29 ] or as Da Ponte says, for her smorfie and pagliacciate.[ 30 ] "Cherubino is undoubtedly one of the most original of musical-dramatic creations, Beaumarchais depicts a youth, budding into manhood, feeling the first stirrings of love, and unceasingly occupied in endeavouring to solve the riddle which he is to himself. Count Almaviva's castle is not a dwelling favourable to virtue, and the handsome youth, who pleases all the women he meets, is not devoid of wanton sauciness: "Tu sais trop bien," he says to Susanna, "que je n'ose pas oser." To Susanna, with whom he can be unreserved, he expresses the commotion of his whole nature in the celebrated air (Act I., 6) which so graphically renders his feverish unrest, and his deep longing after something indefinable and unattainable. The vibration of sentiment, never amounting to actual passion, the mingled anguish and delight of the longing which can never be satisfied, are expressed with a power of beauty raising them out of the domain of mere sensuality, Very remarkable is the simplicity of the means by which this extraordinary effect is attained. A violin accompaniment passage, not unusual in itself, keeps up the restless movement; the harmonies make no striking progressions, strong emphasis and accents are sparingly used, and yet the LE NOZZE DI FIGARO. soft flow of the music is made suggestive of the consuming glow of passion. The instrumentation is here of very peculiar effect and of quite novel colouring; the stringed instruments are muted, and clarinets occur for the first time and very prominently, both alone and in combination with the horns and bassoons.[ 31 ] The romanze in the second act (2) is notably different in its shading. Cherubino is not here directly expressing his feelings; he is depicting them in a romanze, and he is in the presence of the Countess, towards whom he glances with all the bashfulness of boyish passion. The song is in ballad form, to suit the situation, the voice executing the clear, lovely melody, while the stringed instruments carry on a simple accompaniment pizzicato, to imitate the guitar; this delicate outline is, however, shaded and animated in a wonderful degree by solo wind instruments. Without being absolutely necessary for the progress of the melodies and the completeness of the harmonies, they supply the delicate touches of detail reading between the lines of the romanze, as it were, what is passing in the heart of the singer. We know not whether to admire most the gracefulness of the melodies, the delicacy of the disposition of the parts, the charm of the tone-colouring, or tenederness of the expression—the whole is of entrancing beauty.
Unhappily we have lost a third air written for Cherubino. After the sixth scene of the second act, in which Barberina requests the page to accompany her, the original draft score contains the remark: "Segue Arietta di Cherubino; dopo l'Arietta di Cherubino viene scena 7, ma ch' è un Recitativo istromentato con Aria della Confessa," This arietta is not in existence, and probably never was, a change in the arrangement of the scenes having rendered it superfluous. This is to be regretted; Cherubino's intercourse with Barberina would have supplied an essential feature which is now wanting in the opera. But even as it is, the image of DANCE—MARCH. Cherubino is so attractive, so original, that it must unquestionably be reckoned among the most wonderful of Mozart's creations.
Thus we see all the dramatis personæ live and move as human beings, and we unconsciously refer their actions and demeanour to their individual natures, which lie before us clear and well-defined. So great a master of psychological characterisation was under no necessity of calling accessories of costume or scenery to his aid, and declined even to remind us by the use of peculiar musical forms that the action was laid in Spain. This device is only once resorted to. The dance which is performed during the wedding festivities in the third act (Act III., 8, p. 377) reminds us so forcibly of the customary melody for the fandango,[ 32 ] that there can be no doubt this dance was known in Vienna at the time. Gluck has employed the same melody in his ballet of "Don Juan," produced at Vienna in 1761. If Mozart's adaptation be compared with the other two, it will be perceived that he has formed a free and independent piece of music out of some of the characteristic elements of the original, combining dignity and grace in a singular degree; the treatment of the bass and middle pans, and the varied combinations u of the wind instruments heighten the effect of the unusual colouring. At the exclamation of the Gotmt, who has pricked himself with a pin the bassoon strikes up in plaintif tones:—[See Page Image]
which are comically appropriate. But they are not primarily introduced to express pain; they belong to the dance music, and recur at the same point later on in the dance; the point of the joke is the apparently chance coincidence of the dance music with the situation of the moment. The fine march preceding the ballet, the gradual approach of which produces a very effective climax (Vol. II., p. 154, note), takes its LE NOZZE DI FIGARO. peculiar colouring from the constant transition to the minor in the wind instruments—[See Page Images]—without having any very decided national character. Neither are the choruses sung on the same occasion by female voices, or male and female together, particularly Spanish in tone, any more than the chorus in the first act (Act I., 8); they are gay, fresh, very graceful, and exactly fitted to the situation.
Hitherto we have attempted an exposition only of the musical-dramatic characteristics of the opera, the psychological conception which makes the actions of the characters correspond with their individual nature... Not less important are the events and circumstances which give rise to the combined action of the different characters; in the opera this is displayed in ensemble movements. The prevailing principle is here again truth in the expression of feeling; but the juxtaposition of the different characters necessitates a greater stress to be laid on individual peculiarities;
and again, these characteristics of detail must be subordinated to the main idea of producing a well-formed whole. A due balance of parts can only be produced by compliance with the conditions of a musical work of art. The substance and form of these ensemble movements are of course subject to many modifications; many of them are nothing more than a detailed and fuller exposition of some definite situation or mood; and their whole design is therefore simple. Such are the duets between Figaro and Susanna (Act I., i, 2), between Susanna and Marcellina (Act I., 5), the writing duet (Act III., 5), and the duet between the Count and Susanna (Act III., 1); they are distinguished from airs more by their form than their nature. If during the dressing scene Cherubino were to chime in with Susanna's remarks, the Countess were also directly to interpose, such a duet or terzet would represent the situation in greater variety of detail, the form would become richer by means of contrasting ENSEMBLES. elements, but the musical matter would not differ essentially from that to which we are accustomed in solo airs. The terzet in the second act is of this character; a situation or a mood is maintained, and only variously mirrored in the various personages. Here, then, is the point of departure for unity in the grouping of the whole; and the ordinary resources of musical construction, such as the repetition of a motif in different places, the elaboration and combination of the motifs, for the most part lend themselves to the situation.
The difficulty of the task increases in proportion as the music forms part-of the plot. We have an instance of this in the duet between Susanna and Cherubino (Act II., 5); when the latter tries to escape, and finally jumps out of the window. The simple situation gives rise to an expression of fear and disquiet in short, interrupted motifs, and the prevailing characteristic is an agitation almost amounting to action__in progress. The agitation, however, is so characteristically rendered by the music, that, while appearing to flow from an irresistible impulse, it is in reality only an effect of a definite musical formula fitly working out a given motif. The orchestral part forms a separate piece of music of very varied character.[ 33 ]
The terzet of the first act comes in the very middle of the action (Act I., 7). Here we have not merely three persons of dissimilar natures thrown together, but at the particular point in the plot their interests and sentiments are altogether opposed, and each of them is influenced by different suppositions. The plot proceeds, however, and the discovery of the page in the arm-chair gives a turn to affairs which changes the position of each person present. We are struck in the first place with the striking, delicately toned musical expression, especially when the voices go together, as at the beginning, when the Count's anger: "Tosto andate e scacciate il LE NOZZE DI FIGARO. seduttor!" Basilio's lame excuse: "In mal punto son qui giunto," and Susanna's distress: "Che ruina, me meschina!" are all blended into a whole, while preserving throughout their individual characters. The same is the case at the end also, when the Count, taken by surprise, turns his displeasure against Susanna in ironical expressions: "Onestissima signora, or capisco come và"; while she is anxious on her own account: "Accader non puo di peggio!" and Basilio gives free expression to his malice: "Cosi fan tutte le belle!" But while the music appears only to follow the plot, we cannot fail on closer examination to perceive that I we have before us a work constructed and carried out I according to the strictest laws of musical form. It is all so naturally and easily put together that what is really owing to deep artistic insight might be considered by the uninitiated as the result of a fortuitous coincidence of dramatic and musical effects. The intensely comic effect produced by Basilio's repetition of his previous sentence, a fifth higher is brought about of necessity by the musical form. A similar effect is produced when, at the point where a return to the original key leads us to expect a recurrence of the principal subject, the Count, with the same notes in which he had exclaimed, full of resentment at Susanna's intercession; "Parta, parta il damerino!" now turns to Susanna herself with the words: "Onestissima signora, or capisco come và," the point being brought out by the change from forte to pianissimo. Traits like this of delicate dramatic characterisation proceed immediately from the musical construction, and are to be ascribed solely to the composer; the text does not by any means directly suggest them.
The dramatic interest reaches a far higher level in the two great finales. The finale to the second act is judiciously constructed, as far as is compatible with musical exigences, out of the elements already existing in Beaumarchais. The dramatic interest rises with the increasing number of persons taking part in the action, and grows to a climax, while new developments proceeding from the unravelling of each complication bring the actors into ever-varying relations with each other. The different situations afford the most FINALES. animated variety, moving onwards in close connection, but each one keeping its ground long enough to give ample scope for musical elaboration.[ 34 ] The situations thus give rise to the eight movements, distinct in design and character, which form the finale. The masterly combination of the different movements is more effective than would be any amount of emphasis laid on particular points of characterisation. The finale opens with a manifestation of intensest passion—the Count glowing with rage and jealousy, the Countess, wounded to the heart, trembling at the consequences of her imprudence.
In no other part of the opera is the pathetic element express so prominent, the conflict being so strongly expressed that a serious catastrophe appears inevitable. But Susanna's unexpected appearance brings about an explanation, which could not be more aptly expressed than by the rhythmical motif of the second movement.[ 35 ] Susanna's mocking merriment, which for a moment rules the situation, is in some degree moderated by the uncertainty of the two others. The want of repose of the following movement alters the character again, while the chief characters have to adapt themselves to their change of relative position. The Count has to propitiate his wife, without being altogether convinced himself; the Countess's anger and forgiveness both come from the heart, but she feels that she is not now quite in the right. Susanna is exerting herself to bring about explanation and reconciliation, and in so doing takes involuntarily, as it were, the upper hand of the Countess. It is a mimic war, carried on in the most courteous manner; every emotion is broken and disturbed.
Now let us turn to the music. A succession of short motifs, each of which characterises a particular element of the situation, are loosely put together, none of them independently worked out, one driving out the other. But the LE NOZZE DI FIGARO. motifs occur in every case just where dramatic expression demands, and each repetition throws a new light upon the situation, turning the apparent confusion into a well-formed musical whole. Figaro brings an element of unrestrained gaiety into the midst of this troubled atmosphere; the G major following immediately on the E flat major breaks away from all that has gone before. His merriment is truly refreshing, but even he feels some constraint knowing that his secret is betrayed, without being aware of what has led to it. The eagerness with which the Count interrupts him, the anxiety with which the women seek to put him in the right way, his alternate holding back and yielding, give the scene a diplomatic sort of tone, wonderfully well-rendered by a tinge of dignity in the music, which only here and there betrays, involuntarily as it were, more animation. The closing ensemble gives to each of the four voices a mysterious character which is quite inimitable. A complete contrast to this delicate play is afforded by the half-drunken gardener with his denunciation; this opponent requires quite a different treatment. The musical characterisation becomes more lively and broader, the different features more strongly marked. As soon as the Count begins his examination of Figaro, the tone alters again. The remarkable andante 6-8 in which the beating motif—[See Page Image] is hurried through the most varied harmonic transitions expresses an impatience which is scarcely to be kept from violent explosion, quite in accordance with the suspense with which the progress of the explanation is followed by all present without arriving at any satisfactory solution. Finally Marcellina enters with her confederates. The firm, bold pace which is at once adopted by the music marks the commencement of a new struggle; the peril becomes serious, and the change of situation brings about a new FINALES. disposition of the characters. Marcellina, Basilio and Bartolo range themselves on one side, the Countess, Susanna and Figaro on the other, both parties aggressive and prepared for the fight, the Count between them turning first to the one side and then to the other. When the crisis is over, and Marcellina's claim acknowledged, the previous positions are reversed; Marcellina's party has the advantage, Figaro's is defeated. The vanquished party now lose self-command and become violently agitated, while the victors express their triumph with mocking composure. The finale ends in doubled tempos with a diffuse but decided expression of those discordant moods on both sides, bringing the long strife and confusion to an end.[ 36 ] The plan of the second finale is quite different; we plunge at once into the midst of an animated intrigue, one misapprehension and surprise following close upon another. The Countess, disguised as Susanna, awaits the Count; Figaro, and Susanna listen concealed; first the page enters, then the Count, and the play proceeds, every one getting into the wrong place, receiving what is not meant for him, and addressing himself to the wrong person. Mozart has only grasped the amusing side of the complication, and the music maintains a cheerful, lively character, without leaving room for any expression of deeper feeling. By this means whatever is objectionable in the situation seems to spring unavoidably as it were from the facts of the case, on which the play is founded and developed. It is sufficiently astonishing that the music should succeed in following this development step by step in all its turns; the higher art of the master is displayed in his power of representing dramatic life and reality in all its perfection within the limits of a musical movement of scientific conception and form. Nowhere perhaps is the style of intrigue which Zelter praises as the special quality of the opera[ 37 ] brought LE NOZZE DI FIGARO. so prominently forward as in this ensemble. It consists in the art of making each character express himself naturally and appropriately, at the same time rendering the due meaning of the situation and throwing the right light on every separate utterance, while giving the whole a brighter colouring. As soon as Figaro and Susanna are opposed to each other, the tone and style are altered. Serious genuine feeling breaks through the mask of deception, and asserts its sway. Not until the Count enters does the trickery begin again, leading to a succession of surprises which find their climax in the appearance of the Countess. The music renders so bewitchingly the impression of her pardoning gentleness and amiability that we are forced to believe in the sincerity of the reconciliation, and to share in the rejoicings which follow on so many troublous events.[ 38 ]
Next to these two finales a prominent position is assigned to the sestet (Act III., 3) which according to Kelly was Mozart's favourite piece in the whole opera.[ 39 ] This partiality is characteristic, for his amiable nature finds fuller expression in this piece than in any other. The trial scene is omitted in the opera, but the recognition of Figaro by Marcellina and Bartolo is brought into the foreground. The cool sarcastic tone of Beaumarchais gives this scene something unpleasant; but the musical version even here allows human sentiment to assert itself; if it were not for the extraordinary circumstances on which the scene is founded it would be quite pathetic. Both the parents and the son are in the act of expressing the tenderest affection and delight when Susanna hastens in to redeem Figaro. The violence with which she manifests her anger at Figaro's apparent want of constancy is meant quite seriously, and is necessary in order to show how deeply her heart is affected. Amid the caresses of her supposed rival she learns the truth, the charming melody to which Marçellina had made herself known to her THE SESTET. son being transferred to the orchestra while she acquaints Susanna of her relationship to Figaro. Susanna, incredulous of the wonderful story, demands confirmation from each person present in turn, and the situation assumes a comic character, consisting however only in the unexpected turn of events, not in the sentiments of the persons interested, who only wish to be quite sure of their facts before giving themselves up to unmitigated delight. Once assured of their happiness, it overflows in fervent gratitude with an enchanting grace that invests the happy lovers with a sort of inspired and radiant beauty. Mozart has added very much to the effect by keeping the whole passage sotto voce, a device which he always employs with deep psychological truth.[ 40 ] But the lovers are not alone, and the contrast afforded by the other personages present prevents the purely idyllic character which would be incongruous in this scene. One of these is the Count, who with difficulty restrains his rage so far as not to commit himself. The other is the stupid, stuttering judge, Don Curzio, who has pronounced judgment as the Count's tool, and is now amazed at what is passing before him; incapable of an idea, he says first one thing and then another, and finally takes refuge in obsequiously following the opinions of his lord and master. The striking musical effect of the high tenor going with the Count's deep bass gives an expression of cutting irony, and emphasises the stupidity of the judge who chimes in with the Count, without in the least entering into the passions which agitate him. Don Curzio serves here the same purpose as Basiliain the terzet of the first act, mingling a comic element with the expression of a deeper emotion, and modifying, without injuring, the serious ground-tone of the piece. This mode of construction is altogether Mozart's own, and is a striking testimony to his power of grasping and delineating dramatic truth.
Kelly narrates that Mozart begged him not to stutter LE NOZZE DI FIGARO. while he was singing lest the impression of the music should be disturbed. He answered that it would be unnatural if a stutterer should lose his defect as soon as he began to sing, and undertook to do no harm to the music. Mozart gave in at last, and the result was so successful that the sestet had to be repeated, and Mozart himself laughed inordinately. He came on the stage after the performance, shook Kelly by both hands and thanked him, saying: "You were right and I was wrong."[ 41 ] This was doubtless very amiable of Mozart, but his first view was the right one, nevertheless. The artifice might succeed in a master of mimicry, but Don Curzio ought certainly not to be made the principal person in the sestet. On the contrary, he might well be omitted altogether as a musical pleonasm; at least, if Basilio were to be brought in and made to take the same part in the action.
The sestet may be taken as an excellent example of the manner in which Mozart turned his means of representation to account. We are struck first of all with his power of grouping so as to produce a clear and distinct whole. The effect and appreciation of music depends, like architecture, on symmetry. Even though a strict parallelism of the different component parts may be in all but certain cases inapplicable, yet their symmetry must be always present to the apprehension of the hearers. In the musical drama the characterisation of the situation dominates the construction side by side with the laws of musical form. In the sestet before us Marcellina, Bartolo, and Figaro form a natural group, announcing themselves at once as connected from a musical point of view, Marcellina and Bartolo closely corresponding, Figaro forming the uniting member of the little group. Opposed to them we have the Count and Don Curzio, who also keep together, but with greater freedom of independent movement. Susanna's entry introduces a new element. At first she opposes Figaro, and allies herself to the Count, and we have then two strongly characteristic groups of three persons, each with a construction and TREATMENT OF THE VOICE PARTS. movement of its own. The explanation which ensues necessitates the dissolving of the ensemble into a monologue, after which the situation is changed. Susanna goes over to Figaro, Marcellina, and Bartolo, and fresh group is formed, with Susanna as the chief member, though the others do not by any means renounce their independence. Against this concentrated force the discontented minority gives expression to additional energy and resentment, coming to an end in unison. These hints will suffice to show with what a firm mind of the hearers an impression of the perfect freedom of dramatic action, within the limits of strict and simple musical form.
The great stress laid upon dramatic reality necessitated in general simple forms and moderate execution in the musical part of the work. In the airs the traditional form of two elaborate movements is only exceptionally employed the cavatina or rondo form being in most cases preferred and treated freely, although with considerable precision the majority of the duets are similar in design, Mozart having usually written over them duettino, arietta, But neither confined limits nor dramatic interest have been made a pretext for the neglect of well-constructed, well-rounded form;
he never fails to hit upon the right point, whence a whole may be organised. Thus, every separate passage in the finale heightens the contrast, and leads by a 'natural process of development to a conclusion for which '+ helps to prepare the way. What has been said in general terms may be applied to the treatment of details, and primarily of the voices. The dramatic characterisation necessitates perfect freedom in the employment of every source of effect; long-drawn cantilene shorter melodious phrase; well-marked motifs requiring elaborate working-out, declamatory delivery merging into an easy conversational tone—all are employed in their right place, often in rapid alternation and varied combination. It is not sufficient, however that each separate device should be employed effectively the essential point is that they should be placed in right relations with each other, and with the whole of which hand the musical edifice is put together so as to leave on the LE NOZZE DI FIGARO. they form parts. The unhesitating use of the resources of the voice, and the harmony of the effect, are admirable alike in the great ensemble movements and in the smallest passage to be sung; the sestet and the second duet may be brought forward as essentially differing in style and subject, yet each in its place distinguished by delicacy of detail and striking effect. Great simplicity in the treatment of the voices is a noteworthy consequence of this tendency. Song is merely the means adopted for expressing emotion of different kinds. Homely simplicity not only corresponds to truth of expression—it is necessary for the combination of heterogeneous motives, which would otherwise be incomprehensible.
This simplicity, however, is not of the kind that reduces all expression to the same level, and abjures ornament and grace; rather is it the simplicity of a nature which draws its inspiration from the depths of the heart, and excludes all merely virtuoso-like displays which would serve but to glorify the singer.[ 42 ]
An important aid to characterisation and colouring was found by Mozart in the orchestra. We know by what means he had prepared and cultivated every part of a full orchestra as a means of characteristic expression and euphonious charm. His contemporaries were particularly impressed by his use of wind instruments, and in point of fact they were little likely ever to have experienced before the sensations produced by the tender interweaving of the wind instruments in Cherubino's romanze (Act II., 2), or their soft, melting sounds in his air (Act I., 6). In these days we should, indeed, appreciate rather Mozart's moderation in the employment of wind instruments. Trombones are never used, and trumpets and drums only in the overture the march with a chorus (Act III., 7), the closing passages of the finales, and in three airs: those of Bartolo (Act I., 4), Figaro (Act I., 9), and the Count (Act III., 2). This is not saying much; true moderation consists, not so much in THE ORCHESTRA. abstaining from certain methods, as in the way in which those which are employed are held in check. Equally admirable is the masterly treatment of the stringed instruments which form the groundwork of the orchestra, at the same time that the independent movements of the separate instruments develop a fresh and ever-varied vivacity. Mozart has striven above all to preserve a healthy balance of sound effects, and a unity of treatment which never aims at brilliant effects brought about either by an ostentatious extra vagance or an exaggerated economy in the use of his resources; the right effect is produced at the right point, and in the simplest manner, regard being always had to the laws of climax. The simplicity of the voice parts necessitates a corresponding simplicity in the instrumental parts! most distinctly appreciable where they occur obbligato. A comparison with "Idomeneo" and the "Entführung" in this respect will bring out the difference very strongly. The orchestra in the "Entführung" is treated more easily and simply than in "Idomeneo"; in "Figaro" the highest degree of clearness is united with abundant fulness and intensive force of instrumental colouring.
The position here accorded to the orchestra may be regarded as not so much an improvement on earlier operas as an essentially new conception of its powers and functions.[ 43 ] The orchestra appears For the first time not only as an integral part of the whole, but as one with equal rights, taking an independent and active part in the musical-dramatic representation. Such a conception could only be realised when the orchestra and instrumental music had been developed and cultivated as they were by Haydn and Mozart. In this independent position it is neither above nor in opposition to the voices, but each is indispensable to the due effect of the other.
The orchestra is no longer to be looked upon as a mere accompaniment to the voices, but as an independent and co-operating means of representation. And as such we find it in "Figaro." In many passages the orchestra seems to take the lead—as, for instance, in the dressing scene (Act II., 3), when the animated, LE NOZZE DI FIGARO. delicately worked-out orchestral passages not only hold the threads together, but develop the characterisation. At other times the orchestra forms the foundation in the working-out of motifs upon which the voices are suffered to move freely, as in the duet between Susanna and Cherubino (Act II., 5) and in different passages of the finales, the andante 6-8 of the first finale and the first passage of the second. There are, indeed, few numbers in which the orchestra does not temporarily undertake one or the other office, in order to assist the characterisation. The orchestra is never employed in this way with better effect than in the so-called "writing-duet" (Act III., 5). At the close of the recitative the Countess dictates the title, "canzonetta sull' aria," and as soon as Susanna begins to write, the oboes and bassoons take up the ritornello, and undertake to tell, as it were, what Susanna is writing when she is silent and the Countess dictates.[ 44 ] There is a trace here of a subsequent editorial alteration. Instead of the present closing bars of recitative, which are inserted in the original score by a strange hand, there were originally quite different ones, to which the little duet in B flat major could not have immediately succeeded. They probably served as an introduction to a lively scene between the Countess and Susanna, similar to that in Beaumarchais' dialogue. This is confirmed by the first sketch of the writing-duet, which, with the title "Dopo il Duettino," only prefixes the words of the Countess as recitative: "Or via, scrivi cor mio, scrivi! gia tutto io prendo su me stessa." So close an approximation of two duets was most likely the cause of the rejection of the first, with the words of the recitative which called it forth.
Detached features of the orchestral treatment, important as they may be, however, do not constitute its peculiar character; many of them had been previously and successfully attempted by other musicians. The essential point consists in the orchestra taking part, as it were, in the action, so that more often than not the instrumental parts would THE ORCHESTRA—OVERTURE. form a complete and satisfying whole without any voice parts at all. The orchestra, of course, frequently executes the same melodies as the voices, but it treats them in an original manner, producing a constant flow of cross effects with the voices. Sometimes again it works out its own independent motifs, and adds shading and detail to the outlines furnished by the voices. It is not possible to over-estimate the share thus taken by the orchestra in maintaining the main conception of the situation, in increasing the dramatic reality and interest of the plot, and in strengthening the impression made upon the audience.
The capabilities of instrumental music in this direction are most strikingly displayed in the overture, in composing which Mozart appears to have kept before him the second title of Beaumarchais' play, "La Folle Journée." He has made one very characteristic alteration in the course of the overture. At first the rapid impetuous presto was interrupted by a slower middle movement. In the original score the point where the return to the first subject is made (p. 13) is marked by a pause on the dominant-seventh, followed by an andante 6-8 in D minor of which, however, only one bar is preserved:—[See page image]
The leaf on which its continuation and the return to the presto was sketched is torn out, and the portion between vi and de crossed through.[ 45 ] It is plain that Mozart altered his mind when he came to the instrumentation of the overture, which he had sketched in the usual way. Perhaps a middle movement beginning like a Siciliana did not please him; in any case, he thought it better not to disturb the cheerful expression of his opera by the introduction of any foreign element. And in very truth the merry, lively movement pursues its uninterrupted course from the first eager murmur of the violins to the final flourish of trumpets. One bright, cheerful melody succeeds another, running and dancing for very lightness of heart, like a clear mountain stream rippling over the pebbles in the sunshine. A sudden stroke here and there electrifies the motion; and once, when a gentle melancholy shines forth, the merriment is as it were transfigured into the intensest happiness and content. A piece of music can hardly be more lightly and loosely put together than this; there is an entire want of study or elaboration. Just as the impulses of a highly wrought poetic mood exist unobserved, and pass from one to the other, so here one motif grows out of the other, till the whole stands before us, we scarce know how.
A not less important office is undertaken by the orchestra in assisting the psychological characterisation, not only by giving light and shade and colouring through changes of tone-colouring and similar devices unattainable by the voices, but by taking a positive part in the rendering of emotion.
No emotion is so simple as to be capable of a single decided and comprehensive expression. To the voices is intrusted the task of depicting the main features, while the orchestra undertakes to express the secondary and even 'the contradictory impulses of the mind, from the conflict of which arise emotions capable of being expressed in music alone of all the arts. We can scarcely wonder that Mozart's FIGARO AS AN OPERA BUFFA. contemporaries, surprised at the novelty of his orchestral effects, failed to appreciate their true meaning,[ 46 ] nor that his imitators confined themselves to the material result, and failed to perceive the intellectual significance of the improved instrumentation.[ 47 ] The freedom with which Mozart employs voices and orchestra together or apart to express dramatic truths can only exist as the highest result of artistic knowledge and skill. The independence with which each element cooperates as if consciously to produce the whole presupposes a perfect mastery of musical form. True polyphony is the mature fruit of contrapuntal study, although the severe forms of counterpoint are seldom allowed to make themselves visible.
To sum up, there can be no doubt that Mozart's "Figaro" must be ranked above the ordinary performances of opera buffa on higher grounds than its possession of an interesting libretto, a wealth of beautiful melody, and a careful and artistic mechanism. The recognition of truth of dramatic characterisation as the principle of musical representation was an immense gain, and had never even been approached by opera buffa, with its nonsensical tricks and caricatures.
Rossini himself said that Mozart's "Figaro" was a true dramma giocoso, while he and all other Italian composers had only composed opere buffe.[ 48 ] Even though we acknowledge the influence of French opera on Mozart (Vol. II., p. 342) as formed by Gluck,[ 49 ] and still more by Grétry (Vol. II., p. 15),[ 50 ] the first glance suffices to show that Mozart's superior musical cultivation enabled him to employ the resources of his art to LE NOZZE DI FIGARO. a far greater degree than Grétry. Granting also Grétry's undoubted powers of dramatic characterisation and expression of emotion, Mozart's nature is also in these respects far deeper and nobler. Nothing can be more erroneous than the idea that Mozart's merit consisted in taking what was best from Italian and French opera, and combining them into his own; it was solely by virtue of his universal genius' that he was enabled to produce an opera which is at once dramatic, comic, and musical. Chance has decreed that "Figaro" should be an Italian adaptation of a French comedy, set to music by a German; and this being so serves only to show how national diversities can be blended into a higher unity.
A glance by way of comparison at the Italian operas which competed in some respects successfully with "Figaro," such as Sarti's "Fra due litiganti il terrzo godef" Paesiello's.
"Barbiere di Seviglia" and "Re Teodoro," Martin's "Cosa Rara and "Arbore di Diana," or Salieri's "Grotta di Trofonio," may at first excite surprise that they contain so much that reminds us of Mozart, and which we have learnt to identify with Mozart, knowing it only through him. But a nearer examination will show that this similarity is confined to form, for the most part to certain external turns of expression belonging to the time, just as certain forms of speech and manner belong to different periods. In all essential and important points, careful study will serve only to confirm belief in Mozart's originality and superiority. All the operas just mentioned have qualities deserving of our recognition. They are composed with ease and cleverness, with a full knowledge of theatrical effect and musical mechanism, and are full of life and merriment, of pretty melodies, and capital intrigue. But Mozart fails in none of these qualities, and only in minor matters do these other works deserve to be placed side by side with his. None of them can approach him even in some matters of detail, such as the treatment of the orchestra, or the grouping of the ensembles. What is much more important, however, they fail altogether in that wherein consists Mozart's true pre-eminence: in the intellectual organisation, the psychological depth, the VIENNA, 1786. intensity of feeling, and consequent power of characterisation, the firm handling of form and resource, proceeding from that power, and the purity and grace which have a deeper foundation than merely sensual Beauty. Those operas have long since disappeared from the stage, because no amount of success in details will preserve in being any work uninteresting as a whole. Mozart's "Figaro" lives on the stage, and in every musical circle; youth is nourished on it, age delights in it with ever-increasing delight. It requires no external aid for its apprehension; it is the pulse-beat of our own life which we feel, the language of our own heart that we catch the sound of, the irresistible witchery of immortal beauty which enchains us—it is genuine, eternal art which makes us conscious of freedom and bliss.
