THE MARRIAGE OF FIGARO (Le Nozze di Figaro)

One bright summer morning a pleasant hum of excitement pervaded Count Almaviva's noble castle near Seville; for that evening, Figaro, the Count's servant, was to be wedded to the Countess's pretty waiting-maid, Susanna, and the nuptials were to be celebrated with great festivities, in which not only the whole household, but the peasants on the estate were to join. Already the rustic maidens and their swains were decking themselves in holiday garb, for there was to be dancing and merry-making on the green during the day-time before the feasting and fireworks at night, and all were eager to begin the revels.

But, though the light-hearted peasants little guessed it, the bride and bridegroom elect were fated to go through many wild mishaps ere their hands could be joined that day, and even now, early though it was, the first cloud had arisen. For Figaro had just made the unpleasant discovery that his master, whose chief excitement in life was to engage in love intrigues, had suddenly become infatuated with the charms of Susanna, and though the information was given him by the pretty Susanna herself, who laughingly disclaimed any preference for the amorous Count, the future husband was filled with perplexing thoughts.

He now understood why Basilio, an old music-master established at the castle to help the great lord in his intrigues, had lately persuaded him to desire Susanna to accept a secret mission to London offered her by the Count, who was being sent by the King to that city as Ambassador, with Figaro attending him as Courier, for it was plain to see that his secret mission had been invented in order that the Ambassador might enjoy the society of his Courier's charming wife. However, Figaro was a lively fellow, whose keen wits had helped him out of many difficulties; and though indignant at the news, he merrily assured Susanna that he would soon devise a plan for thwarting the Count and his confederate.
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MOZART

Now, Figaro, besides being witty and gay, was also of a handsome appearance; and so it happened that a certain dame, named Marcellina, who, though advancing in years, was of skittish and sentimental disposition, became enamoured of the fascinating valet, when on a visit to the castle about this time.

Being in need of money, owing to his extravagant habits, Figaro had consequently found Marcellina very willing to lend him a considerable sum, on condition that he signed a paper promising to marry her unless he refunded the money; and the gay valet, never dreaming that he would ever be called on to keep his agreement, carelessly signed the document.

However, Marcellina was in earnest, and, having got beyond the age when admirers were to be secured by her personal attractions, did not intend to let such a good chance of marriage slip through her fingers; and on discovering that Figaro was about to be wedded to Susanna, she was filled with indignation, and sent at once to Seville for Dr Bartolo, whose housekeeper she had been for many years, and with whom she had once indulged in a love intrigue.

The worthy doctor did not arrive until the very day of the wedding; but Marcellina, declaring that there was still time to secure her rights, produced the contract she had induced Figaro to sign, and begged him to help her to prevent the marriage. Dr Bartolo, who had also had a grudge against Figaro for having thwarted him on a former occasion, readily agreed to help her; and between them the pair arranged that Susanna should be frightened by a threat of making known her master's advances to her, when, to save her reputation, she would rebuff the Count, who, being piqued, would then give assistance to Marcellina's claim.

To this end, Marcellina presently waylaid Susanna in the pretty maid's own apartment, and began to squabble, hinting plainly that the Count's infatuation for her would soon be known to all; but Susanna, though somewhat alarmed, only met her taunts with saucy retorts, and soon forced her to beat a hasty retreat.

No sooner had she gone than the Countess's page, Cherubino, a handsome youth who adored his mistress, yet made love to all the maids in the castle, rushed into the room, and announcing that the Count had just dismissed him from his service, because he had found him flirting with the gardener's charming daughter, Barbarina, entreated Susanna to intercede for him.

Whilst they were talking together, the Count was heard approaching, and, terrified at the thought of being discovered with the favoured lady's-maid, Cherubino hastily hid behind a large arm-chair, just as his master entered the room.

The enamoured Count immediately began to make love to Susanna, entreating her to grant him an interview in the garden at twilight; but Susanna, remembering Marcellina's hints, received him coldly, and begged him to leave her. The Count, however, was not to be so easily repulsed, and was about to snatch a kiss, when he suddenly heard the voice of old Basilio, the mischief-making music-master, asking for him without; and not wishing to be discovered, even by his confederate, in such a compromising situation, he hastily sought a hiding-place, and rushed towards the very same chair behind which Cherubino was already concealed. The sprightly page, however, saw him coming, and in a twinkling he adroitly slipped round to the other side and ensconced himself in the seat of the chair, just as the Count crouched behind.

Susanna, trembling at the narrow escape she had had, hastily flung a dress over the curled-up form of Cherubino; and no sooner had she done so, than Basilio entered the room. The old scandal-monger had come to draw from Susanna all she knew of Cherubino's love for his mistress; and in spite of the waiting-maid's indignant denials and frantic efforts to stop him, he declared that the page's infatuation was the talk of the whole household.

Now, Count Almaviva, though frequently engaging in love intrigues himself, was extremely jealous where the honour of his Countess was involved; and furious at Basilio's words, he sprang from behind the chair, and at the same moment discovered the hapless page in the seat.

The Count, now doubly jealous, imagining that Cherubino had also been making love to Susanna, began to pour forth abuse on them both, and declared that Figaro should be told of his bride-elect's duplicity; but Susanna, assured of Figaro's trust in her, pleaded only for Cherubino's pardon, slyly reminding her master that the page had overheard his words of love to her, and should on that account be conciliated. Almaviva, thus compelled to admit the prudence of such a course, then agreed to pardon Cherubino, but only on condition that he set off immediately for military service, to command a company in the Count's own regiment; and the page was ordered to start for Seville at once.

Meanwhile, the Countess Almaviva had also been told of her husband's infatuation for the waiting-maid; and knowing that Susanna was too faithful to betray her, she bade the girl fetch Figaro to her boudoir, that the three might concoct a plot by means of which her husband should be exposed, and, thus cured of engaging in such intrigues, be led back to the arms of his still loving wife.

Figaro's keen wit soon furnished a scheme, and he said that he would send an anonymous letter to the Count, informing him that the Countess intended to grant a secret interview to a certain gallant at the revels to be held that night, which would rouse his jealousy to such a pitch that, whilst endeavouring to prove his suspicions, the wedding could take place before he had time to prevent it. He also suggested that, to entangle him further, Susanna should grant the Count the twilight meeting in the garden he had asked for, but that Cherubino, who had not yet departed, should take her place, dressed in her garments; and then the Countess should surprise the pair, and compel the Count, after thus discovering him in an intrigue, to sue for pardon and return to her affections.

The Countess gladly agreed to this plan, and Figaro, having despatched the letter to the Count by the hands of Basilio, sent the page to the boudoir to be dressed for his part. Cherubino, delighted to be once more in the company of his beloved mistress, readily entered into the plot, and Susanna, after locking the door to prevent interruption, began to dress him in a gown and head-dress of her own, the page's fresh complexion and curling hair helping to make the disguise more complete.

But just as Susanna had gone into an inner room to look for a ribbon, the Count himself knocked at the boudoir door, and finding it locked became suspicious and demanded to have it opened. Full of terror Cherubino ran to hide in a dress cupboard, which the Countess hastily locked, placing the key in her pocket; and then she admitted the Count, who was rendered more suspicious than ever on observing her confused looks.

Remembering the anonymous letter he had just received, he declared that she had a lover hidden within the cupboard, having heard a sound of shuffling from its depths; and when the Countess tremblingly announced that it was only Susanna, who had retired there, interrupted in the act of trying on a new dress, he angrily called on the maid to answer to her name. Cherubino, however, kept silence, and Susanna, who had returned unobserved and was now hidden behind a curtain, dared not speak. The Count now felt that his suspicions were confirmed, and, in a storm of jealousy, he dragged off the Countess to get tools to break open the cupboard, first locking the doors of the boudoir and inner chamber so that the captive should not escape.

As soon as they had gone, Susanna rushed to the cupboard and unfastened the door with a duplicate key she carried in her pocket, and Cherubino rushed wildly out, freed of his borrowed garments, which he had hastily discarded. Finding all the exits locked, he opened the window and sprang lightly into the garden below; and Susanna, having assured herself that he had come to no harm, took his place in the cupboard, fastening the door on the inside just as the Count and Countess returned.

The Count had brought tools to break open the cupboard lock, but the Countess, seeing that he was in earnest, produced the key, and in despair opened the door herself. A sigh of relief and wonder escaped her as Susanna stepped forth; and the Count, dumbfounded and ashamed of his suspicion, instantly sought pardon of his wife. However, remembering the letter he had received, he asked what it meant, and the Countess told him that it had been written by Figaro at her orders to provoke jealousy. But on Figaro himself entering at that moment to announce that the wedding guests were assembling, the Count decided to test the truth of this statement, and showing him the letter, he asked if he knew anything about it. The valet, not knowing that his master had been told the truth, at first denied all knowledge of it, and it was not until after sundry meaning glances from the Countess, and saucy pinches from Susanna, that he guessed his mistake, and admitted writing the note.

The situation might now have been saved had not old Antonio, the gardener, just then entered with several broken flower-pots in his hands, which he tearfully declared had been smashed by a man whom he had seen jump from the window of the boudoir into the very midst of them only a few minutes ago; and the Count's suspicions were quickly roused again.

But Figaro, warned by the distracted looks of the Countess and Susanna, immediately announced that it was he who had made the leap, explaining that he had been waiting for Susanna, when, on hearing his master's angry voice, he had become alarmed, remembering the letter he had written, and had jumped from the window to escape his presence.

This explanation, however, did not satisfy the Count, who still felt that he was being deceived; and when, a few minutes later, Dr Bartolo and Marcellina entered, having been awaiting this opportunity in the ante-room, he gladly listened to the charge they brought against Figaro. Marcellina produced the contract signed by the valet, both she and Dr Bartolo declaring that it proved a promise of marriage, and money lent; and the Count announced that his lawyer should attend to the matter at once, thus hoping, in his pique, to delay, or prevent, the marriage of Figaro and Susanna.

He was delighted when, a little later, Don Curzio, his lawyer, after reading the document, announced that it was legally binding, and that Figaro must either immediately pay back the money lent, or marry Marcellina, according to his agreement; for he knew that Figaro, being of an extravagant disposition, could certainly not produce the large sum of money named.

The Countess and Susanna were distracted at this decision, and Figaro indignantly declared that he could not be married against his will without the sanction of his parents, whom he believed were of high birth. When asked to produce his noble parents, he admitted that he knew not who they were, having been stolen from his home by gipsies when a little child; and he added that the only clue to his identity he now possessed was a private mark that had been made upon his arm in the form of a spatula.

On learning this, Marcellina uttered a cry of surprise and joy, and next moment she clasped Figaro in her arms, declaring that he was her own dear son, whom she had lost years ago, and whose arm had been marked with a spatula in his infancy. It now transpired that this was the truth, Figaro indeed being the son born of an amour between Marcellina and Dr Bartolo; and since the worthy doctor announced that he should now marry his old housekeeper and recognise her son as his heir, the Count felt that his scheme of revenge had crumbled to pieces.

Figaro and Susanna were overjoyed to find that there was no further bar to their union; and the Count, very much against his will, gave orders that their wedding should take place that evening after all, and high revels be held. The rustic guests had already assembled, and during the afternoon dancing and merry-making began with much spirit in the park.

Now, Cherubino had not yet departed for Seville, being determined to remain at the Castle at least so long as the revels lasted; and having induced his pretty sweetheart, Barbarina, to deck him in feminine garments once more, he joined in a procession of rustic maidens, who presently came to offer flowers to the Countess.

Barbarina introduced him as her cousin, who had come to see the wedding; and the Countess, greatly taken with the pretty looks of the pretended maiden, kissed him playfully on the forehead, to the inward delight of the saucy page. At this moment, however, the Count appeared with old Antonio, the gardener, who, having picked up Cherubino's hat in his cottage, had discovered the ruse, and brought his master to the scene to unmask the young scapegrace; and the Countess, disconcerted on hearing that she had kissed Cherubino in mistake for a girl, now thought it best to admit to the Count that it was indeed the page who had jumped from her boudoir that morning, and that she and Susanna had been dressing him to take part in a jest they had planned.

The Count angrily dismissed the crestfallen page; and then, turning to Figaro, who was just approaching, he sternly demanded what he meant by stating that he had jumped from the boudoir window, when Cherubino had now confessed that it was he himself who had performed that feat. But Figaro's ready wit prevented him from being at a loss, and he answered instantly that the statement only proved that they had both had the same fancy to leap through the window, which was not strange, since it was well known that great wits jumped together. He then ran off to join in a merry dance that was just commencing, and the Count was left to the perplexing thought that he was still being fooled.

Nor was the Countess satisfied; for although the bride and bridegroom elect were now happy and likely to gain their ends, she felt that her own purpose had not yet been achieved.

So, presently, she sought Susanna to arrange another plot with her, and between them the pair agreed that Susanna should now grant the Count the interview he had asked of her earlier in the day, but that the Countess should take her place. Susanna wrote a seductive little note to her master, appointing a meeting at twilight in a certain quiet glade; and this she gave to Barbarina to deliver to the Count, who was delighted at receiving it, thinking that Susanna meant to accept him as a lover after all.

Now, it happened that Figaro met Barbarina on her return from the Count, and gathered from her conversation that Susanna intended to meet her infatuated master that evening; and knowing nothing of the new plot that had been made, he imagined that she had been deceiving him all along, and jealously determined to watch her.

When twilight fell, the Countess and Susanna exchanged garments, and hastened to the secluded glade agreed upon, where Susanna presently retired beneath the trees, leaving her mistress in the open; and here they were immediately seen by Figaro, who was already hiding in the bushes.

By the merest chance, Cherubino, who had not yet departed, had also made an appointment in this same spot with little Barbarina, and seeing, as he imagined, Susanna approaching, he thought he might as well pass the waiting time by a little playful flirtation with the pretty lady's-maid. So, approaching the trembling Countess, whom he addressed as Susanna, he began to make pretty speeches to her, and even tried to snatch a kiss; but at that moment the Count suddenly appeared on the scene, and, boxing his ears smartly, made him beat a hasty retreat.

Also, mistaking in the twilight, the Countess for Susanna, Almaviva began to make love to her, and presently led her towards a summer pavilion; and then Susanna came out into the open once more, having caught sight of Figaro crouching amongst the bushes.

The angry valet, full of wild jealousy at the scene he had just witnessed, also emerged from his hiding-place, and began to pour forth his woes to the approaching lady, whom he imagined to be the Countess; but upon Susanna revealing herself, he was joyfully relieved, and readily agreed to assist in her plan.

So when the Count shortly afterwards appeared alone, having left the pavilion for a few minutes to reconnoitre, Figaro fell on his knees before the pretended Countess, and began to make violent protestations of love for her; and immediately the Count, rendered madly jealous at beholding what he supposed to be a clandestine meeting between his wife and a strange lover, rushed forward furiously, calling aloud for his attendants in the adjacent garden to seize the offender.

However, on discovering that the whole affair had been a hoax, his anger quickly evaporated; and realising that his wife had got the better of him, having detected him in an actual intrigue, he humbly besought her pardon when she presently emerged from the pavilion.

This was readily granted by the Countess, who had been delighted to learn from her husband's wild outburst of jealousy that he still loved her in spite of his propensity for flirtation, of which she hoped she had at last cured him; and since the mysteries and perplexities of the day had now been cleared away, all the plotters returned gaily to the castle, where the marriage ceremony of Figaro and Susanna at once took place amidst great rejoicings.