Opera Marriage of Figaro Program Notes, Sheet Music and Recordings

Program Notes & Analysis

The Revolution in the Palace: A Perfect Opera

It is one of the most famous anecdotes in opera: Emperor Joseph II of Vienna had personally banned the scandalous play by Pierre Beaumarchais, La folle journée, ou Le Mariage de Figaro. The play, a direct sequel to The Barber of Seville, was political dynamite. It depicted a wily, intelligent servant running circles around his arrogant, aristocratic master. In the years just before the French Revolution, this was not comedy; it was a call to arms, a direct assault on the class structure. Yet, the ink on the ban was barely dry when Mozart, a 30-year-old composer at the height of his powers, decided this was the perfect subject for his next opera. He and his new librettist, Lorenzo Da Ponte, went to the Emperor. Da Ponte, in his memoirs, claims he charmed the Emperor by promising he had "cut everything that might be offensive" and had "made a poem, not a play." The ruse worked. The opera was approved, and the resulting work, Le nozze di Figaro, is a masterpiece of subversion. Da Ponte didn't so much remove the revolution as clothe it in the most beautiful music ever heard, making its message of human dignity, love, and class equality penetrate the heart far more deeply than any political speech ever could.

A Seamless Fusion of Comedy and Pathos

Figaro is the textbook definition of opera buffa (comic opera), but it simultaneously transcends the genre. It has all the classic buffa ingredients: stock characters (the bumbling old doctor, the lecherous master), ridiculous disguises (a teenage boy dressed as a girl), and a plot built on intricate, clockwork misunderstandings. But Mozart infuses this comic framework with a depth of human emotion that was revolutionary. This is not just a farce; it is a profound human drama. The characters are not one-dimensional archetypes; they are real, flawed, and suffering people. We feel the genuine, heartbreaking sorrow of the Countess as she laments her lost love in "Porgi, amor." We feel the boiling rage of Figaro in "Aprite un po' quegli occhi," when he believes his new bride is betraying him. This blend of high comedy and deep pathos—often in the same scene—is what makes Figaro the "perfect" opera. It is a work that Johannes Brahms would later study in awe, declaring, "In my opinion, each number in Figaro is a miracle; it is totally beyond me how anyone could create anything so perfect."

Music as Character

In Figaro, the music is the character. Mozart’s score is a miracle of psychological portraiture, with each aria perfectly defining the person singing it. We first meet Figaro not with a political speech, but with a brash, martial tune, "Non più andrai" (You shall go no more). It’s a song ostensibly "commissioning" the lovesick page Cherubino into the army, but it’s really a declaration of Figaro’s own cunning—a "general" marshaling his troops for the battle of wits to come. His rival, the Count, gets no such tuneful arias, only a single, sputteringly angry outburst ("Vedrò, mentr'io sospiro"), revealing his true nature as a blustering bully, not a romantic hero. The most profound portraits are reserved for the women. The Countess, abandoned by her husband, is introduced with "Porgi, amor" (Grant, Love), a melody that seems to float on a cloud of tears, establishing her nobility and sorrow. The pageboy Cherubino, a role sung by a woman (a mezzo-soprano), is a walking bundle of adolescent hormones, perfectly captured in his breathless, tumbling aria, "Non so più cosa son" (I no longer know what I am), a song that pants and rushes with the confusion of first love. And Susanna, the true hero, gets "Deh vieni, non tardar" (Oh come, don't delay), a "love song" to her husband-to-be, sung while knowing her jealous husband is secretly listening in the dark—a masterpiece of love, wit, and subversion all at once.

The Genius of the Ensemble

While the arias are justly famous, the true revolution of Figaro is in its ensembles. Before this, opera was often a "park and bark" affair: a singer would sing a big aria, and the plot would stop. Mozart, building on the work of his contemporaries, perfected a new technique where the ensembles—duets, trios, sextets—became the engine of the plot. The music and the action became one, with characters' thoughts overlapping, changing, and colliding in real time. The supreme example is the finale to Act II. It is a single, unbroken, 20-minute piece of music that starts with the Count and Countess in a jealous argument. It then accelerates, adding Susanna, then Figaro, then the gardener Antonio, then Bartolo, Marcellina, and Basilio, all while the plot twists and turns (a boy jumps from a window, a letter is revealed). It’s a symphony of chaos, a masterpiece of musical architecture that builds tension to an unbearable, exhilarating climax. It is one of the most brilliant and complex pieces of music Mozart ever wrote, and it is a pure, breathless, comic farce.

The Opera That Changed Everything

Le nozze di Figaro was not just a triumph; it was a game-changer. It was the first of the three "Da Ponte" operas (followed by Don Giovanni and Così fan tutte), a trilogy that set a new standard for musical drama, psychological depth, and the fusion of comedy and tragedy. Its influence is incalculable. Decades later, Gioachino Rossini would have the audacity to write a prequel, The Barber of Seville, but he was smart enough to write it in his own style, knowing he could never out-do Mozart. The influence of Figaro's ensemble-finales, where character, music, and drama are perfectly united, can be felt across the entire 19th century, from the chaos of a Rossini finale to the complex, layered ensembles of Verdi. Even Ludwig van Beethoven, who found Don Giovanni's subject too "immoral," revered Figaro for its humanity. It is the ultimate "upstairs-downstairs" drama, a work that uses wit, love, and forgiveness—and the most sublime music imaginable—to prove that a clever servant and a noble Count are, in the end, equal in heart, spirit, and humanity.

The Story of the Opera

A Day of Madness, Intrigue, and Forgiveness

Act I: The Wager and the 'Right of the Lord'

In a castle near Seville, the servant Figaro is measuring a room for his new bed. He is celebrating his upcoming marriage to Susanna, the Countess's maid. Susanna, however, is worried. The room is conveniently located between their master (the Count) and their mistress (the Countess), but the Count is not just being generous. He has been making advances toward Susanna and intends to reinstate the "droit du seigneur" (the "right of the lord")—a feudal "right" to bed a servant on her wedding night. Figaro, enraged, vows to outwit his master in his famous aria, "Se vuol ballare" (If you want to dance, my little Count).

The plot thickens. Figaro is in debt to the old housekeeper, Marcellina, who has a contract stating he must marry her if he fails to repay. She is assisted by her old employer, Dr. Bartolo (the Countess's old guardian, whom Figaro foiled in The Barber of Seville). Then, the teenage pageboy, Cherubino, rushes in. The Count has fired him for being a flirt, and he begs Susanna to intercede. Hearing the Count approach, Cherubino hides, only to overhear the Count propositioning Susanna. When the gossip-mongering music master, Don Basilio, arrives, the Count himself hides, and all three men end up revealing their hands. The Count, furious at finding Cherubino, is outmaneuvered. Figaro arrives with the castle staff to "praise" the Count for "abolishing" the feudal right, trying to trap him. The Count, cornered, instead "promotes" Cherubino by giving him a commission in his regiment, ordering him to leave for Seville immediately. The act ends with Figaro's famous, mocking "Non più andrai," sending Cherubino off to "war."

Act II: Cherubino in the Closet

In her chambers, the lonely Countess Almaviva laments her husband's infidelity in the heartbreaking aria, "Porgi, amor" (Grant, Love). Susanna and Figaro arrive and hatch a plot. They will send the Count an anonymous letter warning him of a (fake) rendezvous, making him jealous. At the same time, they will dress Cherubino (who has not yet left) as Susanna, have him "meet" the Count in the garden, and then have the Countess "discover" her husband in a compromising position. As they are dressing Cherubino, the Count arrives unexpectedly. Terrified, Cherubino hides in the Countess's bedroom closet, which she locks. The Count, hearing the noise and finding the door locked, is immediately suspicious. He demands she open it. She refuses. He drags the Countess off to find a crowbar, locking the main door behind them. In a flash, Susanna, who has been hiding, frees Cherubino from the closet, and he escapes by jumping out the window. Susanna then takes his place in the closet.

The act finale begins. The Count returns, brandishing a crowbar, and forces the Countess to confess Cherubino is inside. He opens the door and, to his utter shock and humiliation, out steps Susanna. The Countess and Susanna reveal the "prank." Figaro arrives, trying to start the wedding, but the Count confronts him with the anonymous letter. Just as Figaro is faking ignorance, the gardener, Antonio, stumbles in, complaining that someone jumped from the window and crushed his geraniums, dropping a letter. It is Cherubino's commission. Figaro, thinking fast, claims he was the one who jumped and takes the letter, but he is nearly caught. In the midst of this chaos, Marcellina, Bartolo, and Basilio arrive, demanding that the court enforce their contract: Figaro must marry Marcellina. The act ends in a massive, chaotic ensemble, with the Count triumphant, and Figaro, Susanna, and the Countess defeated.

Act III: The Trial and the Wedding

The Count is in his study, pondering the confusing events. Susanna, at the Countess's behest, enters and agrees to a rendezvous with the Count in the garden. The Count is delighted, but as Susanna leaves, he overhears her whisper to Figaro, "We've already won the case!" Realizing he's been duped, the Count explodes in his aria "Vedrò, mentr'io sospiro" (Shall I see, while I sigh), vowing revenge.

The trial begins. Figaro is ordered to marry Marcellina. He protests, claiming he is of noble birth and cannot marry without his parents' consent. He reveals a birthmark on his arm. In a stunning, ridiculous plot twist, Marcellina recognizes the mark. Figaro is not her debtor; he is her long-lost son, and Dr. Bartolo is his father. The scene dissolves into a joyful, if bizarre, family reunion (the "Sextet"). Susanna, who arrives with money to pay the debt, sees Figaro embracing Marcellina and, not knowing the news, slaps him. The confusion is cleared up, and the act will now celebrate a double wedding.

Before the ceremony, the Countess, still stung by her husband's infidelity, dictates a letter to Susanna ("Sull'aria" - "On the breeze..."). The letter confirms Susanna's garden rendezvous with the Count, but the Countess will be the one to go, disguised as Susanna. They seal the letter with a pin, which the Count is to return as a token. During the wedding ceremony, the Count is pricked by the pin, much to his amusement and Figaro's confusion.

Act IV: The Garden of Mistaken Identities

The final act takes place in the dark garden. The pin has been lost and found by Barbarina (the gardener's daughter). Figaro learns of the rendezvous and, not knowing about the clothing swap, believes Susanna is truly betraying him with the Count. Heartbroken, he launches into his bitter, misogynistic aria, "Aprite un po' quegli occhi" (Open your eyes).

The Countess (disguised as Susanna) and Susanna (disguised as the Countess) enter. Susanna, knowing Figaro is hiding and listening, sings her beautiful, taunting aria "Deh vieni, non tardar" (Oh come, don't delay), a "love song" for "Figaro," but which he thinks is for the Count. The final, chaotic climax begins. The Count arrives and proceeds to woo the woman he thinks is Susanna (who is actually his wife). Figaro, in a rage, eventually figures out the plot and, recognizing Susanna in the Countess's clothes, plays along, "seducing" his own wife, which earns him another slap. The Count, seeing what he thinks is Figaro seducing his wife (who is actually Susanna), explodes, calling everyone as witnesses. He traps the "Countess" (Susanna) and prepares to expose her.

The other characters plead for mercy, but the Count refuses. "No! No! No, I will not forgive!" At that moment, the real Countess (still in Susanna's clothes) steps out of the shadows. The Count, seeing his wife, whom he thought he had trapped, is left speechless. The entire plot is laid bare. In one of the most sublime and moving moments in all of opera, the Count, humiliated and humbled, kneels before his wife and sings, "Contessa, perdono" (Countess, forgive me). The Countess, in a gesture of profound grace, replies, "Più docile io sono, e dico di sì" (I am more forgiving, and I say yes). The "day of madness" ends in a chorus of universal forgiveness and celebration.