The Count is stern. Cherubino had once before incurred his displeasure by poaching in his preserves. He had visited Barbarina, the pretty daughter of his gardener, and found the door bolted. The maid appeared confused, and he, seeking an explanation, drew the cover from the table and found the page hiding under. He illustrates his action by lifting the gown thrown over the chair, and there is the page again! This, then, is the reason of Susanna's seeming prudery—the page, her lover! He accuses Susanna, who asserts her innocence, and truthfully says that Cherubino had come to ask her to procure the Countess's intercession in his behalf, when his entrance had thrown them both into such confusion that Cherubino had concealed himself. Where? Behind the arm-chair. But the Count himself had hidden there. True, but a moment before the page had slipped around and into the chair. Then he had heard all that the Count had said to Susanna? Cherubino says he had tried his best not to overhear anything. Figaro is sent for and enters with the villagers, who hymn the virtues of their lord. To the Count's question as to the meaning of the demonstration, Figaro explains that it is an expression of their gratitude for the Count's surrender of seignorial rights, and that his subjects wish him to celebrate the occasion by bestowing the hand of Susanna on Figaro at once and himself placing the bridal veil upon her brow. The Count sees through Figaro's trick, but believing it will be frustrated by Marcellina's appeal, he promises to honor the bride, as requested, in due season. Cherubino has begged for the Count's forgiveness, and Susanna has urged his youth in extenuation of his fault. Reminded that the lad knows of his pursuit of Susanna, the Count modifies his sentence of dismissal from his service to banishment to Seville as an officer in his regiment. Figaro playfully inducts him into the new existence.
The air "Non più andrai," in which this is done, is in vigorous march rhythm. Benucci, the original Figaro in Vienna, had a superbly sonorous voice, and Michael Kelly, the English tenor (who sang the two rôles of Don Basilio and Don Curzio), tells us how thrillingly he sang the song at the first rehearsal with the full band. Mozart was on the stage in a crimson pelisse and cocked hat trimmed with gold lace, giving the time to the orchestra. Figaro gave the song with the greatest animation and power of voice. "I was standing close to Mozart," says Kelly, "who, sotto voce, was repeating: 'Bravo, bravo, Benucci!' and when Benucci came to the fine passage, 'Cherubino, alla vittoria, alla gloria militar,' which he gave out with stentorian lungs, the effect was electricity itself, for the whole of the performers on the stage, and those in the orchestra, as if actuated by one feeling of delight, vociferated: 'Bravo, bravo, maestro! Viva, viva, grande Mozart!' Those in the orchestra I thought would never have ceased applauding by beating the bows of their violins against the music desks. The little man acknowledged by repeated obeisances his thanks for the distinguished mark of enthusiastic applause bestowed upon him."
This ends the first act. At the opening of the second the Countess asks our sympathy because of the unhappiness caused by her errant husband. (Cavatina: "Porgi amor.") She prays the god of love to restore her to his affections. Susanna entering, the Countess asks her to continue her tale of the Count's pursuit of her. There is nothing to add, says the maid; the Count wooed as noblemen woo women of her class—with money. Figaro appears to tell that the Count is aiding Marcellina in her scheme and of the trick which he has devised to circumvent him. He had sent Basilio to his lordship with a letter warning him that the Countess had made an appointment to meet a lover at the ball to be given in the evening. This would fan the fires of his jealousy and so enrage him that he would forget his designs against Susanna until she was safely married, when he would discover that he had been outwitted. In the meantime, while he is reflecting on the fact that two could play at the game, Susanna is to apprise the Count that she will meet him in the garden in the evening. Cherubino, whose departure to Seville had been delayed for the purpose, is to meet the Count disguised as Susanna, and the Countess, appearing on the scene, is to unmask him. The Count is supposed to have gone a-hunting, and the plotters have two hours for preparation. Figaro leaves them to find Cherubino, that he may be put into petticoats. When the page comes, the Countess first insists on hearing the song which he had given to Susanna, and Cherubino, stammering and blushing at first, sings it to Susanna's guitar. (Canzone: "Voi che sapete.") Again I call upon Otto Jahn for a description of the music. "Cherubino is not here directly expressing his feelings; he is depicting them in a romance, and he is in the presence of the Countess, toward 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 romance, 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 coloring, or the tenderness of the expression—the whole is of entrancing beauty."
Susanna finds that she and Cherubino are of the same height, and begins to array him in garments belonging to her, first locking the door against possible intruders. The Countess views the adventure with some misgivings at first, but, after all, Cherubino is a mere boy, and she rejoices him with approval of his songs, and smiles upon him till he is deliriously happy. Basilio has given him his commission in the Count's regiment, and the Countess discovers that it lacks a seal to secure which would cause a longer and desired delay. While Susanna is playing the rôle of dressing-maid to Cherubino, and instructing him in a ladylike bearing, the Count raps for admission to the room. Figaro's decoy letter caused him uneasiness, and he had abandoned the hunt. Cherubino hurries into the chamber, and the Countess turns the key upon him before admitting his lordship, who enters in an ill-humor which is soon turned into jealous rage. Cherubino has awkwardly overturned a chair in the chamber, and though the Countess explains that Susanna is within, she refuses to open the door, on the plea that her maid is making her toilet. The Count goes for tools to break open the door, taking the Countess with him. Susanna, who has heard all from an alcove, hastens to Cherubino's rescue, who escapes by leaping from the window of the Countess's apartment into the garden below. Susanna takes his place in the chamber. Then begins the most marvellously ingenious and beautiful finale in the whole literature of opera. Fast upon each other follow no fewer than eight independent pieces of music, each a perfect delineation of the quickly changing moods and situations of the comedy, yet each built up on the lines of musical symmetry, and developing a musical theme which, though it passes from mouth to mouth, appears each time to belong peculiarly to the person uttering it. The Countess throws herself upon the mercy of the Count, confesses that Cherubino, suspiciously garbed, is in the chamber, but pleads for his life and protests her innocence of wrong. She gives the key to her enraged husband, who draws his sword, unlocks the door, and commands the page to stand forth. Susanna confronts the pair with grave unconsciousness upon her features. The Countess is no less amazed than her lord.
The Count goes into the chamber to search for the page, giving Susanna a chance to explain, and the nimble-witted women are ready for him when he comes back confused, confounded, and ready to ask forgiveness of his wife, who becomes tearful and accusing, telling him at length that the story of the page's presence was all an invention to test him. But the letter giving word of the assignation? Written by Figaro. He then shall be punished. Forgiveness is deserved only by those willing to forgive. All is well, and the Countess gives her hand to be kissed by her lord. Enters Figaro with joyous music to announce that all's ready for the wedding; trumpets sounding, pipes tootling, peasants singing and dancing. The Count throws a damper upon his exuberant spirits. How about that letter? In spite of the efforts of the Countess and Susanna to make him confess its authorship,