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
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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."
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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
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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
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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
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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
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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
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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
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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]--
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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
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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
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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
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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
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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
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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.}
(87)
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.
{LE NOZZE DI FIGARO.}
(88)
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.}
(89)
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.}
(90)
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.}
(91)
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.}
(92)
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.}
(93)
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.}
(94)
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.}
(95)
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.}
(96)
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.}
(97)
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.}
(98)
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.}
(99)
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.}
(100)
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.}
(101)
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.}
(102)
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.}
(103)
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.}
(104)
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.}
(105)
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.}
(106)
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.}
(107)
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.}
(108)
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.}
(109)
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.}
(110)
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.}
(111)
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.}
(112)
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.}
(113)
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]
{LE NOZZE DI FIGARO.}
(114)
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.}
(115)
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.}
(116)
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.}
(117)
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.
FOOTNOTES FOR CHAPTER XXXVI.
[Footnote 1: Confirmed by Kelly (Reminisc., I., p. 257).]
[Footnote 2: L. de Lomenin, Beaumarchais et son Temps, II., p. 293.]
[Footnote 3: The piece in various translations was soon familiar on every
stage in Germany. A. Lewald has lately issued a new translation of it
(Beaumarchais, Stuttg., 1839).]
[Footnote 4: In Paris (in 1793) the unfortunate idea was conceived of performing
Mozart's music with Beaumarchais' complete dialogue (Castil-Blaze,
L'Acad. Imp. de Mus., II., p. 19). Beaumarchais was pleased with the
representation, though not with the adaptation (Lomenin, Beaumarchais,
II., p. 585). A notice of the performance says: "The music impressed us
as being beautiful, rich in harmony, and artistically worked out. The
melodies are pleasing, without being piquant. Some of the ensemble
movements are of extreme beauty."]
[Footnote 5: Schneider, Gesch, d. Oper in Berlin, p. 59.]
[Footnote 6: Aus einer alten Kiste, p. 177. Meyer, L. Schroder, II., p. 55.]
[Footnote 7: Sainte-Beuve, Causeries du Lundi, VI., p. 188.]
[Footnote 8: Car. Pichler, Denkw., I., p. 103.]
[Footnote 9: From Herder's Nachlass, III., p. 67.]
[Footnote 10: The intellectual transformation which the French comedy underwent
at Mozart's hands has often been insisted upon, e.g., by Beyle (Vies de
Haydn, Mozart et de Métastase, p. 359), who, while recognising Mozart's
excellence, is yet of opinion that Fioravanti or Cimarosa would perhaps
have succeeded better in reproducing the easy cheerfulness of the
original. Rochlitz also (A. M. Z., III., pp. 594, 595) and Ulibicheff
(II., p. 48) appear to consider the remodelling of the piece as not
altogether perfect. On the other hand, an enthusiastic article in the
Revue des Deux Mondes (XVIII., p. 844, translated in A. M. Z., XLII.,
p. 589), extols Mozart as the master who has given to Beaumarchais' work
that which Mozart alone could have detected in the subject of it, viz.,
_poetry_. Cf. Hotho Vorstudien fur Leben und Kunst, p. 69.]
[Footnote 11: In the very characteristic and amusing duet for the two quarrelling
women in Auber's "Maurer" the realism of the musical representation is
of some detriment to the grace of expression and delivery.]
[Footnote 12: He declares that he so astonished Casti and Paesiello by his power
of mimicry that, although he was very young, they intrusted him with the
difficult part of Gafforio in the "Re Teodoro," in which he made a great
sensation (Remin., I., p. 241).]
[Footnote 13: Berl. Mus. Ztg. 1793, p. 138.]
[Footnote 14: Bussani, who sang Bartolo and Antonio, had been in the Italian
Opera in Vienna in 1772 but left it the following year. He was noted for
his "resonant barn voice" (Müller, Genaue Nachr., p. 73).]
[Footnote 15: Kelly, Reminisc., I., pp. 121, 196.]
[Footnote 16: P. Scudo, Musique Ancienne et Moderne, pp. 22, 23.]
[Footnote 17: Thus in Bartolo's air the close juxtaposition of major and minor
at the words "è bassezza è ognor viltà," exactly expresses the
intensification of his feeling of annoyance.]
[Footnote 18: Rochitz, A. M. Z., III., p. 595.]
[Footnote 19: A hasty sketch of the voice part shows only trifling alterations in
the later melody. It is noteworthy that Mozart made many attempts before
hitting upon a satisfactory conclusion.]
[Footnote 20: A. M. Z., XXIV., p. 284.]
[Footnote 21: She first appeared October 13, 1788, as Diana in Martin's "Arbore
di Diana" (Wien. Ztg., 1788, No. 83, Anh.).]
[Footnote 22: Wien. Ztg., 1789, No. 76, Anh., announces, "Neues Rondeau von Mme.
Ferrarese aus Le Nozze di Figaro, Giunse alfin Rec. Al desio Rondeau."
The air is published with the character given, "La Contessa," without
any further intimation. Mozart's autograph has disappeared, but André
has a copy of the air with the recitative from Mozart's remains,
both marked for "Susanna." This increases the difficulty which exists
respecting it (Sonnleithner, Recensionen, 1865, p. 721).]
[Footnote 23: In the original score of "Figaro" the conclusion of the secco
recitative is followed by the words, "Segue Recit. instrumental con
Rondo di Susanna." The present garden aria could scarcely be called a
rondo, and this probably refers to another air, the design of which was
abandoned.]
[Footnote 24: It is printed in a pianoforte arrangement among the songs (Ouvr.,
V., 20).]
[Footnote 25: Written above it in a strange hand is, "Le Nozze di Figaro. 13
Atto 2do," and the cue, "e pur n' ho paura." Counting the pieces this
air is in the second act, No. 13, in G major, like the preceding one;
if it is assumed that the opera is divided into two acts, the garden air
would be No. 13 in the second act. The cues are not to be found in both
places, so that an alteration must have been made in the dialogue. The
cue agrees in sense with the words of the Countess before the dressing
song, ( Miserabili noi, se il conte viene).]
[Footnote 26: In the original terzet, when the parts went together, the highest
was given to the Countess; Mozart afterwards altered it, wherever
dramatic expression allowed, so that Susanna should sing the highest
part; this has necessitated trifling modifications here and there in
the disposition of parts. This alteration was no doubt undertaken with
a view to the singers. In the two finales their relative position was
settled before he proceeded to the working-out.]
[Footnote 27: According to Beyle, it is only in this duet that Mozart has
rendered the character of French comedy, and even here he takes Figaro's
jealousy too seriously (Vies de Haydn, Mozart et de Métastase, p. 361).]
[Footnote 28: Cramer, Magaz. f. Mus., 1788, II., p. 48. She first appeared on
September' 24, 1784, with success (Wien. Ztg., 1784, No. 79, Anh.), and
she appeared again after a pause in "Figaro" (Wien. Ztg., 1786, No. 35,
Anh.).]
[Footnote 29: Berl. Mus. Ztg., 1793, p. 134.]
[Footnote 30: Da Ponte, Mem., I., 2, p. 111; cf. p. 135.]
[Footnote 31: The fragment of a sketch in score for this air is identical in the
first division; the words "solo ai nomi d'amor, di diletto," are
treated differently. A pianoforte arrangement of the air with violin
accompaniment, entirely in Mozart's handwriting, is in Jules Andre's
collection.]
[Footnote 32: Dohrn, N. Ztschr. Mus., XL, p. 168.]
[Footnote 33: The duet has undergone three unnecessary abbreviations in the
printing. The sketch of a few bars to serve as an introduction to
another duet has the superscription "Atto 2do, Scena 3, invece del
Duetto di Susanna e Cherubino." This was apparently never continued.]
[Footnote 34: This connected construction of the different sections of the finale
is seldom found; they are generally merely successive scenas, as, for
instance, in Casti's "Re Teodoro."]
[Footnote 35: Mozart has written above it, "Andante di molto," and not "Andante
con moto" as it is printed; and it may further be noted that Susanna
comes out of the closet "tutta grave."]
[Footnote 36: Holmes says (Life of Mozart, p. 269) that Mozart wrote this finale
in two nights and a day, without stopping; in the course of the second
night he became unwell, and was obliged to desist when there only
remained a few pages to instrumentalise.]
[Footnote 37: Zelter, Briefw. m. Goethe, V., p. 434.]
[Footnote 38: Basilio and Don Curzio being intrusted to one singer, as well
as Bartolo and'Antonio, the score contains the names of the four
characters, but only two musical parts; supernumeraries were brought on
the stage in similar costumes when required.]
[Footnote 39: Kelly, Reminisc., I., p. 260.]
[Footnote 40: At first he gave Susanna's charming melody to the bassoon and flute
as well, but afterwards struck out both instruments, in order to allow
the voice full play. The instrumentation throughout the sestet is very
moderately treated.]
[Footnote 41: Kelly, Reminisc., I., p. 260.]
[Footnote 42: The running passages at the close of the air for the Countess (Act
III., 2) were not originally written by Mozart, but were added later,
probably at the wish of the singer.]
[Footnote 43: Cf. Kossmaly to Ulibicheff, Mozarts Opern, p. 368.]
[Footnote 44: This exquisite touch is completely lost in the German translation,
where the Countess only begins to dictate after the ritornello.]
[Footnote 45: A writer in the Deutsch. Mus. Ztg., 1862, p. 253, conjectures that
an orchestral piece in D minor (101, Anh., K.) included among Mozart's
remains, but unfortunately lost, may have been this middle movement.]
[Footnote 46: The Emperor Joseph's remark has been already mentioned. Carpani
(Le Haydine, p. 49; cf. p. 35) is of the same opinion. Grétiy's shrewd
criticism in answer to a question by Napoleon: "Cimarosa met la statue
sur le théätre et le piédestal dans l'orchestre; au lieu que Mozart met
la statue dans l'orchestre et le piédestal sur le théätre," has been
justly praised by Fétis (Biogr. Univ., IV., p. 106).]
[Footnote 47: Carpani, Le Haydine, p. 202. Beyle, Vies de Haydn, Mozart et de
Métastase, p. 362. Stendsal, Vie de Rossini, p. 40.]
[Footnote 48: Südd. Zeitg. f. Mus., 1861, p. 24.]
[Footnote 49: H. Berlioz (Voy. Mus., II., p. 267) characterises Mozart as the
master who, above all others, followed in Gluck's footsteps.]
[Footnote 50: Tieck, Dramaturg. Blatter, II., p. 325.]
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MOZART 37
BY DAVID WIDGER