In the second act Pantea lands with the goose in a violent storm. It is a fair-day, and the assembled people are full of amazement at the natural and rational movements of the goose, which is supposed to come from Cairo. Auretta and Chichibio inform Don Pippo of the wonderful sight. He causes Pantea to come forward, and she informs him that the goose having lost its speech from fright during the storm can only be restored by the use of a certain herb growing in a lonely garden. Don Pippo, delighted, commissions Calandrino to take Pantea and the goose into the pleasure-garden, that so the two maidens may enjoy the spectacle. The finale represents the fair close to the tower, the two ladies looking on from the window. A dispute arises, in which Biondello takes part; Don Pippo, as magistrate, is called on to do justice; some ridiculous action is carried on, ending in a general tumult. Pantea then puts Biondello into the goose and enters the garden, while Calandrino informs Don Pippo that Biondello, in despair, has set out to sea in a small boat, which is confirmed by the weeping Auretta. Don Pippo, in high delight, forms a ludicrous wedding procession and proceeds to the tower, where Celidora and Lavina stand at the window while the goose makes various antics for the amusement of the crowd. Finally, Don Pippo appears in the great hall of the tower, accompanied by the two maidens and the goose, in full confidence of his triumph, and only waiting the arrival of Count Lionetto to celebrate the wedding. Chichibio enters with an uncourteous refusal from the Count. As Don Pippo is in the act of giving his hand to Lavina, Pantea advances in her true person, the goose begins to speak, opens, and Biondello steps out; Don Pippo is beside himself, and is ridiculed by them all; he ends by promising to amend his ways, and the three couples are made happy.
No doubt this summarised account has omitted to take note of many comic and effective touches; but on the other hand it has suppressed many absurdities—the general impression of a fantastic and senseless plot not being affected L'OCA DEL CAIRO, 1783. by the treatment of the details. In the first glow of delight at having a new libretto, Mozart set to work composing at once in Salzburg, and after his return to Vienna he anticipated different scenes that interested him; but he was soon seized with misgivings that the opera could not be put on the stage without important alterations. He wrote on the subject to his father (December 6, 1783):—
Only three more airs, and the first act of my opera is finished. With the aria buffa, the quartet, and the finale I can safely say I am perfectly satisfied—in fact, quite delighted. So that I should be sorry to have written so much good music in vain, which must be the case unless some indispensable alterations are made. Neither you, nor the Abbate Varesco, nor I, reflected that it would have a very bad effect—indeed, would ruin the opera—if neither of the two principal female characters were to appear on the stage until the last moment, but were to be always wandering about on the ramparts or terraces of the tower. One act of this might pass muster, but I am sure the audience would not stand a second. This objection first occurred to me in Linz, and I see no way out of it but to make some scenes of the second act take place in the fortress—camera della fortezza. The scene where Don Pippo gives orders to bring the goose in might be the room in which Celidora and Lavina are. Pantea comes in with the goose. Biondello pops out; they hear Don Pippo coming. In goes Biondello again. This would give an opening for a good quintet, which would be all the more comic because the goose sings too. I must confess to you, however, that my only reason for not objecting to the whole of the goose business is that two men of such penetration and judgment as yourself and Varesco see nothing against it. But there would still be time to think of something else. Biondello has only undertaken to make his way into the tower; whether he does it as a sham goose, or by any other trick, makes no difference at all. I cannot help thinking that many more comic and more natural scenes might be brought about if Biondello were to remain in human form. For instance, the news that Biondello had committed himself to the waves in despair, might arrive quite at the beginning of the second act, and he might then disguise himself as a Turk, or something of the kind, and bring Pantea in as a slave (Moorish, of course). Don Pippo is anxious to purchase a slave for his wife; and the slave-dealer and the Mooress are admitted into the fortress for inspection. This leads to much cajoling and mockery of her husband on the part of Pantea, which would improve the part, for the more comic the opera is the better. I hope you will explain my opinion fully to the Abbate Varesco, and I must beg him to set to work in earnest. I have worked hard enough in the short time. Indeed, I should have finished the first act, if I did not require some alterations made in some of the words; but I would rather you did not mention this to him at present.
In the postcript he again begs his father to consult Varesco, and hurry him on. On further consideration, however, he thought he had still conceded too much, and a few days afterwards he wrote (December 10, 1783):—
Do all you can to make my book a success. I should like to bring the ladies down from the ramparts in the first act, when they sing their airs, and I would willingly allow them to sing the whole finale upstairs.
Varesco was quite willing to make the alteration, which was easily to be effected by a change of scene. The altered version exists, together with the original text; but we know nothing further on the subject. Mozart seems to have made more extensive demands. He wrote to his father (December 24, 1783):—
Now, for what is most necessary with regard to the opera. The Abbate Varesco has written after Lavina's cavatina: "A cui serverà la musica della cavatina antecedente"—that is of Celidora's cavatina—but this will not do. The words of Celidora's cavatina are hopeless and inconsolable, while those of Lavina's are full of hope and consolation. Besides, making one character pipe a song after another is quite an exploded fashion, and never was a popular one. At the best it is only fitted for a soubrette and her lover in the ultime parti. My idea would be to begin the scene with a good duet, for which the same words, with a short appendix for the coda, would answer very well. After the duet, the conversation could proceed as before: "E quando s' ode il cam-panello della custode." Mademoiselle Lavina will have the goodness to take her departure instead of Celidora, so that the latter, as prima donna, may have an opportunity of singing a grand bravura air. This would, I think, be an improvement for the composer, the singers, and the audience, and the whole scene would gain in interest. Besides, it is scarcely likely that the same song would be tolerated from the second singer after being sung by the first. I do not know what you both mean by the following direction: At the end of the interpolated scene for the two women in the first act, the Abbate has written: "Siegue la scena VIII che prima era la VII e cosi cangiansi di mano in mano i numeri." This leads me to suppose that he intends the scene after the quartet, where the two ladies, one after the other, sing their little songs from the window, to remain. But that is impossible. The act would be lengthened out of all proportion, and quite spoiled. I always thought it ludicrous to read: Celidora. "Tu qui m' attendi, arnica. Alla custode farmi veder vogl' io; ci andrai tu puoi." Lavina: "Si dolce arnica, addio." (Celidora parte.) Lavina sings her song. Celidora comes back and says: "Eccomi, or vanne," &c.; and then out goes Lavina, and Celidora sings her air; they relieve one another, like soldiers on guard. It is much more natural L'OCA DEL CAIRO, 1783. also that, being all together for the quartet, to arrange their contemplated attack, the men should go out to collect the necessary assistants, leaving the two women quietly in their retreat. All that can be allowed them is a few lines of recitative. I cannot imagine that it was intended to prolong the scene, only that the direction for closing it was omitted by mistake. I am very curious to hear your good idea for bringing Biondello into the tower; if it is only comical enough, we will overlook a good deal that may be unnatural. I am not at all afraid of a few fireworks; all the arrangements here are so good that there is no danger of fire. "Medea" has been given repeatedly, at the end of which half the palace falls in ruins while the other half is in flames.
Whether Varesco refused to give up the "goose business," whether he was afraid of further endless emendations, or what his reasons were, who can tell? In any case no radical change was made in the text, and, much against his will, Mozart was forced to lay the opera aside. Besides a recitative and the cursory sketch of a tenor air, six numbers of the first act are preserved in draft score (422 K.), with, as usual, the voice parts and bass completely written out, and the ritornelli and accompaniment more or less exactly indicated for the different instruments. Four numbers belong to Auretta and Chichibio; the comparison with "Figaro" is an obvious one, and though Chichibio is far from being a Figaro, Auretta approaches much nearer to Susanna. The situation of her air (2) is not badly imagined. Calandrino, hearing from Auretta that Chichibio is very jealous, embraces her in jest and says, "What would Chichibio say if he saw us?" Thereupon that personage enters, and Auretta, pretending not to observe him, sings:—
Se fosse qui nascoso
Quell' Argo mio geloso,
O, poverina me!
Direbbe: "O maledetta,
Pettegola, fraschetta!
La fedeltà dov' è?"
Pur sono innocente,
Se fosse presente,
Direbbe tra se:
"O qui non c' è pericolo,
Un caso si ridicolo
Goder si deve affè."