‘Le nozze di Figaro’, Glyndebourne, 1958

Figaro on the Downs
Graham Rogers

Le nozze di Figaro was the work with which Mozart finally achieved the complete
synthesis of music and drama that he had been moving towards since his earliest
theatrical works. He left his mark on the old opera seria form with Idomeneo (1781)
and scored a success in Vienna the following year with the up-to-date singspiel Die
Entführung aus dem Serail, but it was opera buffa that increasingly drew Mozart, and
its concern with ‘the sly observation of human foibles within the context of
contemporary society’ (Piero Weiss). Growing more conscious of the perfection he
was striving for, he began but abandoned work on two comedies (L’oca del Cairo and
Lo sposa deluso) whose libretti failed to inspire sufficiently.

Though Mozart was not much interested in politics, he bought and avidly read (in
German translation) the new play by Pierre Beaumarchais, Le Mariage de Figaro (1784),
deemed dangerously revolutionary by authorities across Europe. Mozart keenly
recognised its operatic potential, but despaired of ever getting such a piece produced:
though the recently installed Austrian Emperor Joseph II was displaying many new
and welcome liberal tendencies, the theatrical performance of Figaro was outlawed.

Enter Lorenzo da Ponte. Seven years Mozart’s senior, Da Ponte had trained as a
priest and teacher before his progressive political outlook and raffish lifestyle led,
in 1779, to enforced exile from Venice. After a spell in Dresden assisting his friend,
the esteemed poet and librettist Caterino Mazzolà, Da Ponte travelled to the Austrian
capital armed with a letter of recommendation from Mazzolà to Vienna’s musical supremo – and fellow Italian – Antonio Salieri. Da Ponte’s timing was propitious:
through Salieri, he came to the notice of Joseph II just as the Emperor was turning
his back on German opera and reviving the Italian company.The confident and
colourful Da Ponte’s appointment, in 1783, as poet to the Italian court theatre at
last provided Mozart with the breakthrough he had been waiting for.

Whereas the often socially naïve composer struggled to gain a foothold in Viennese
establishment, Da Ponte used his influence, charm and wile to overcome all
obstacles, and proved to be as fired up by the idea of an operatic Figaro as he was of
working with the 29-year-old Mozart. After a frenetic period of productivity (Da
Ponte later recalled that ‘As fast as I wrote the words, Mozart set them to music. In
six weeks everything was in order’) Le nozze di Figaro opened at Vienna’s prestigious
Burgtheater on 1 May 1786.

Da Ponte realised that, while the play’s notoriety would provide a frisson essential
to the success of an operatic treatment, Beaumarchais’ most overt expressions of
dissidence had to be toned down if the piece was to be staged at all. A lengthy and
seditious rant for Figaro is replaced with the more universal (for empowered men,
at least) sentiments of an aria exposing the infidelity of women. Emphasis on the
human aspects of the story at the expense of its politics appealed to Mozart too: his
setting of ‘Aprite un po’‘ – Open your eyes, you rash and foolish men – displays an
impassioned affinity and relish for its theme. Mozart and Da Ponte transform
Beaumarchais’ world of inequality, populated by social types, into an engaging story
where individuals of all classes are subject to the same fallibilities and
susceptibilities.

What makes Figaro so special is that it satisfies on many different levels. Apt
comparisons have often been made with Shakespeare’s Twelfth Night for its
wonderful blend of earthy humour, frothy farce, elegance, poignancy and – perhaps
above all – its vividly drawn characters, displaying genuine human emotions with
which we can all identify. No opera buffa before Figaro had offered such well-defined
and empathetic characters: from the irrepressible sexuality of Cherubino, to the
pathos of the Countess; from the bungling schemers Dr Bartolo and Marcellina,
each pursuing their own nefarious agenda, to the boorish, overbearing Count.
Though it waters down Beaumarchais’ politics, Figaro is subversive in more subtle
ways. Mozart defies the operatic convention whereby the nobility sung only noble
music: the Count is exposed for the unpleasant and base man that he is with music
of a distinctive but unequivocally non-patriarchal nature. By contrast, the
commoners (including, as Bartolo’s former ward, the Countess) are shown to have
more moral integrity with music of a gravity and intensity that elevates them far
above their social status. Although the affable firebrand Figaro is the nominal lead,
Mozart makes Susanna the star of the story. Intelligent, witty, vivacious and, of
course, sexy, Susanna is also firmly grounded. She is the opera’s most likeable
character, and is granted some of its most sparkling and profound music.

We take its genius for granted, but for the musicians and audiences of 1786 Figaro
was decidedly avant-garde, like no opera experienced before. Far from epitomising
the late 18th century, as we tend to think of it today, Mozart’s music – rivalled only
by Haydn, and even then not when it came to opera – was the exception rather
than the norm. Mozart’s new compositional maturity is signalled by idiomatic use
of woodwind and a masterful conveyance of long time-spans – most notably in the extensive finales to Acts 2 and 4. After the opera’s first performances in Prague,
Mozart wrote to his father that ‘nothing else is played, trumpeted, sung or whistled
but Figaro’. Its tunes have always been irresistibly catchy; they are also perfectly
tailored to each nuance of the drama.

Unsurprisingly Figaro failed to ingratiate Mozart with the Viennese courts and counts.
But, after a shaky opening night, the opera’s popular appeal became apparent. At
the second performance five numbers were encored, at the third seven (including
an astonishing six repeats of the quicksilver duet for Susanna and Cherubino,
‘Aprite presto’; history does not relate whether, each time, Cherubino climbed
back in through the window he had just leapt out of). A revival in 1789 confirmed
Figaro’s success, and it continues to move and delight audiences across the world.

Nowhere has Figaro given more pleasure in recent times than at Glyndebourne.
Nestled amid the South Downs of the English coastline, the care and intimacy of
the country house festival has made an ideal home for Mozart – and for Figaro in
particular – since the very first season in 1934, with an ‘away from it all’ atmosphere
and opportunities for indulgent treats that enhance the joy of the piece itself.

There are many things to savour in this 1958 Figaro. One of its greatest attractions
is the chance to hear Figaro sung by Sir Geraint Evans in his prime. At the age of
27, in 1949, the Welsh baritone made his debut in the role for the fledgling Covent
Garden Company. In his autobiography (A Knight at the Opera, Michael Joseph Ltd,
1984) Evans recalled how, despite initial nerves, he soon settled into the role –
until he lost concentration one night and entered a beat early in the Act 3 wedding scene – whereupon the conductor Karl Rankl shouted up from the pit ‘You stupid
boy!’ Mortified, Evans vowed always to count meticulously at this spot (‘Un
bigletto amoroso…’, after Figaro has spied the Count’s note), causing much
amusement with subsequent Susannas, some of whom would count along with him!

Evans became closely associated with Figaro throughout his long and illustrious
career, under conductors from Erich Kleiber to Daniel Barenboim, and twice
recorded the role in the studio (with Otto Klemperer in 1970 and Barenboim in
1976). He had first appeared at Glyndebourne in 1950 (taking over from Erich
Kunz as Guglielmo in Così fan tutte) but the Sussex house would not hire him as
Figaro while he continued to play the role at Covent Garden. An opportunity
eventually arose in 1958, which this recording captures.This was not only the first
season that Evans had played Figaro at Glyndebourne; it was also the first time he
had sung it in Italian (in those days Covent Garden performed Mozart in English).
But he couldn’t sound more confident and at ease: this Figaro oozes self-assurance.

A remarkable feature of this performance is how well the cast gels.The recitatives
have never sounded more alive, and the tight ensembles bubble with fun – witness
the Act 3 ‘revelation’ sextet, ‘Riconosci in questo amplesso’, which elicits gales of
audience laughter (but never at the expense of musical precision and exemplary
singing).There was much backstage bonhomie and even some onstage high-jinks
among the cast: Evans tells of the ‘rude or suggestive’ messages written on the
letter handed to Figaro in Act 2 by the Count (Michel Roux, a French music-hall
veteran whose smooth portrayal of the role conveys a rare warmth – his Count is
a flawed human being rather than a monster), and an occasion when, mid-’Aprite un po’‘, Evans almost choked when he glanced into the wings to see
Teresa Berganza provocatively sucking on a lemon! Here making her UK début,
Berganza’s Cherubino is playful, bold and tremulous. Her fellow Spaniard Pilar
Lorengar is in sumptuous voice, a noble yet spirited Countess.Widely renowned in
her day, especially for the sensitivity of her Mozart performances, Lorengar’s
extensive career began as a zarzuela singer in Madrid and blossomed at the Berlin
Opera (where her last triumph was as Valentine in Meyerbeer’s Les Huguenots in
1987). Lorengar recorded a few of her Mozart roles commercially, but for sets
which have not stood up well over time (Elvira for Richard Bonynge in 1968;
Pamina and Fiordiligi for Georg Solti in 1969 and 1973 respectively). She never
recorded the Countess in the studio.

Many will be familiar with Graziella Sciutti’s capricious Susanna from the
celebrated 1955 studio recording with Glyndebourne forces under the baton of
Vittorio Gui. At that point Sciutti had not yet played the role with the company
(she had first appeared at Glyndebourne in 1954 as Rosina in Il Barbiere di Siviglia;
her first Susanna had been at the 1952 Aix-en-Provence Festival). Here she sounds
even more in her element. Her effervescent tone – light but certainly not
insubstantial – and artless manner make her one of the most natural and
memorable exponents of the role.Those who know the Gui recording will also, no
doubt, already cherish the incomparable Marcellina of Monica Sinclair – a
consummately musical and well-rounded portrayal, well beyond the usual frumpy
caricature – and Hugues Cuénod’s delectable Basilio. Both were Glyndebourne
stalwarts for many years. In this performance the characterful Swiss tenor makes
the most of his Act 4 aria (Sinclair is denied hers; ‘Il capro e la capretta’ requires a soprano to do it justice). Cuénod had a phenomenally long career and has lived an
extraordinary life: in June 2010 he celebrated his 108th birthday.

For such a distinguished Mozartean, it is surprising – and a great shame – that Hans
Schmidt-Isserstedt made only two studio recordings of Mozart operas: Idomeneo and
Die Gärtnerin aus Liebe, the all-but-unknown singspiel version of La finta giardiniera.
Sometimes criticised for being too straight-laced, Schmidt-Isserstedt’s principal
strength lies in his unmannered approach (on conducting Beethoven, he remarked,
‘There must be an ideal balance of head and heart’). His sole appearance at
Glyndebourne was for this 1958 season of Figaro, and it is immediately apparent
from the electric atmosphere of the opening that it was a special occasion. In fact,
the overture is rather hard-driven but, thanks to stunning playing from the Royal
Philharmonic Orchestra (Sir Thomas Beecham’s band play magnificently
throughout), the result is exhilarating. He might occasionally have given the music
more time to breathe (mainly in Act 1, suggesting perhaps that adrenaline levels
took a while to settle), but the sense of excitement is palpable. Schmidt-Isserstedt
brings out both the profundity and brilliant comedy of Figaro with a style and
lightness of touch that renews our admiration and affection for the work itself.

© Graham Rogers, 2010

Le nozze di Figaro
Synopsis by Nicholas Payne

The action covers one day and takes place in the castle and grounds of Aguas
Frescas, nine miles from Seville.

Act I
A small room in the castle: morning

It is the day of Figaro’s marriage to Susanna. Figaro is assessing the bedroom
offered to him by the Count, conveniently adjoining both the Count’s and the
Countess’s apartments. Susanna, however, points out that the room will also be
convenient when the Count chooses to reinstate the ‘Droit de Seigneur’, which he
has recently abolished. Figaro determines to outwit his master.

Marcellina enters with Dr. Bartolo, who is intent on revenging himself on Figaro
for the latter’s role in the elopement with the Count of his ward Rosina, now the
Countess. Figaro has borrowed money from Marcellina (formerly Rosina’s
governess, now the housekeeper at the castle) and has signed a note promising to
repay the money by a certain date or marry her in forfeit. Susanna interrupts and
confronts Marcellina.

Cherubino comes in looking for Susanna, whom he hopes will persuade the
Countess to intercede on his behalf with the Count, who has dismissed him from
the castle after catching him alone with Barbarina. Cherubino is in love with all women, especially the Countess.The appearance of the Count causes disarray;
Cherubino hides and hears the Count’s overtures to Susanna. Basilio enters and the
Count himself hides, in turn overhearing Basilio’s insinuations about Cherubino and
the Countess.The Count emerges, enraged, and discovers the unfortunate page.

Figaro meanwhile has organised the servants of the household to enact a
demonstration of their gratitude at the abolition of the ‘Droit de Seigneur’.
The implacable Count sends Cherubino to join his regiment.

Act II
The Countess’s bedroom: late morning

The Countess laments the loss of the Count’s love.When Susanna comes in the
Countess questions her about the Count’s proposals. Figaro enters and reveals his
plan to outwit the Count: he has sent him an anonymous letter implying that the
Countess has a lover. Susanna points out that Marcellina can still stop their
wedding, and a second plan is hatched. Susanna will agree to meet the Count in the
garden, but Cherubino will go disguised in her place.

Figaro leaves, instructing the women to dress Cherubino appropriately.When the
page is half undressed the Count arrives. Having received Figaro’s letter, he is in a
jealous rage. Cherubino, hidden in the closet, knocks over a chair.The Countess, in
a panic, pretends that the noise is Susanna, but refuses to unlock the door.The
Count insists that she accompany him to fetch tools to force the door; meanwhile,
Susanna rescues Cherubino, who escapes out of the window. Susanna locks herself
in the closet.

The Countess attempts to explain to her husband the presence of Cherubino in her
closet. She is as surprised as the Count when it is Susanna who emerges.The two
women pretend that the whole episode was a trick to provoke the Count into
better treatment of his wife.They confess that the letter was written by Figaro,
who then appears, unaware of the women’s revelations to the Count. Just as he is
pleading for a happy ending, Antonio arrives with a flower pot broken by
Cherubino in his leap from the window. Figaro ‘confesses’ to the crime, but the
Count remains suspicious.When Bartolo, Basilio and Marcellina arrive with a law
suit to force Figaro’s marriage to Marcellina, the Count is triumphant.

Act III
A hall: late afternoon

The Countess and Susanna have devised their own plan to disrupt the Count’s
amorous intentions. Susanna will agree to meet the Count that evening in the
garden, but the Countess will go in her place, disguised as her maid.The Count is
delighted to discover that Susanna will succumb, but is still suspicious and all the
more determined that Figaro should marry Marcellina. On the advice of his legal
consultant, Don Curzio, the Count insists that Figaro pay Marcellina at once or
marry her. Figaro is saved by the timely revelation that he is the long-lost son of
Marcellina and Bartolo; everyone but the Count and Don Curzio embraces their
new relations.The Countess, meanwhile, is worried by her dangerous plan.

Finally the wedding celebrations of Figaro and Susanna begin. Cherubino is
unmasked among the bridesmaids, but Barbarina shames the Count into allowing
him to stay at the castle.The Countess blesses the marriage of Marcellina and
Bartolo and Susanna passes the Count the letter dictated by the Countess,
confirming her evening rendezvous with him under the pine trees.The Count
blesses her marriage to Figaro.

Act IV
The garden: evening

Figaro finds Barbarina searching for the pin the Count has given her to return to
Susanna, confirming their assignation. Figaro is enraged with jealousy, but
Marcellina, to whom he confides his suspicions, takes Susanna’s part and decides to
warn her.

In the garden everybody is waiting: the Count and Figaro for Susanna, the
Countess for the Count, Bartolo and Basilio to witness the revival of the ‘Droit de
Seigneur’. Figaro rails against the faithlessness of Susanna, while she looks forward
to the conclusion of her plans.The appearance of Cherubino is potentially
disastrous, but the Count arrives and woos ‘Susanna’, in fact his wife.The jealous
Figaro is then confronted by Susanna, disguised as the Countess, but he recognises
his bride and they are reconciled – witnessed by the Count, who believes he sees
his wife in the arms of his valet. He denounces her; the real Countess unmasks
herself and forgives her husband.The day ends in celebration.

© Nicholas Payne

Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart 1756–1791
Le nozze di Figaro K492

Opera buffa in four acts to a libretto by Lorenzo da Ponte after Pierre-Augustin
Beaumarchais’ play La folle journée, ou Le mariage de Figaro (1784, Paris);
Vienna, Burgtheater, 1 May 1786.

Recorded live at Glyndebourne Festival Opera, June 1958.
This production marked the UK debut of Teresa Berganza.

Original recording from the Harewood Collection

Remastering engineer: Roger Beardsley

Note from the remastering engineer: There is occasional radio interference that could
not entirely be corrected in the remastering process.

• Geraint Evans
  Figaro
• Graziella Sciutti
  Susanna
• Mihály Székely
  Bartolo
• Monica Sinclair
  Marcellina
• Teresa Berganza
  Cherubino
• Michel Roux
  Count Almaviva
• Hugues Cuénod
  Don Basilio
• Pilar Lorengar
  Countess Almaviva
• Gwyn Griffiths
  Antonio
• Mary Illing
  Barbarina
• John Kentish
  Don Curzio
• Glyndebourne Festival Chorus
  
• Royal Philharmonic Orchestra
  
• James Lockhart
  Continuo
• Hans Schmidt-Isserstedt
  Conductor