When Lorenzo Da Ponte wrote the Italian libretto for Le Nozze di Figaro, he must have immediately seen the fascinating parallels between the lives of the characters in Beaumarchis’ play and those of classic mythology. The emotions the characters portray are timeless; anger, joy, compassion, jealousy, love, and sexual passion. From the ancient authors Sophocles, Homer and Virgil come stories that have resonated with these same emotions throughout the ages. Da Ponte adds to his libretto the spice of ancient times and the singers, coaches, conductors and stage directors of today will find themselves assaulted by a whole gaggle of gods, goddesses, and archaic symbols wittily woven into the text of Mozart’s opera. For in spite of the popularity of Xena, Warrior Princess, the middle names of the pop group “ ‘N Sync” are more likely to be known today than even the most common names of the Greek pantheon. So let us journey back in time to a day when gods and goddesses roamed the earth to learn who they are and what their stories mean to the 21st century performer interpreting the libretto of Da Ponte and music of Mozart.
Act I
The search begins in No.5 the duettino between Susanna and Marcellina. In the gamesmanship of trying to top each other with a few well-chosen insults, Marcellina finally erupts with the phrase: “Per Bacco precipito,” which literally means: “By Bacchus I explode.” Bacchus is the Roman name for the Greek god Dionysus. The father of Bacchus (or Dionysus) was Zeus, and his mother was the mortal woman Semele. Hera, the jealous wife of Zeus, tricked the pregnant Semele into persuading the expectant papa to reveal himself to her in his true god-like form. Semele was destroyed or “exploded” by the sight of Zeus in all his godly glory. Marcellina is inferring that Susanna, the evil manifestation of “Hera,” will trick her into exploding by her thinly disguised barbs about her age and thus get her “goat” which itself is one of the animal symbols of Bacchus. Susanna in her aside also has a mythological reference. She calls Marcellina “Sibilla” which is the name of the “Sibyls.” These were women consulted as oracles by the ancient Romans and Greeks. Their words of prophecy were usually tricky and often obscure to the person involved and one had to be on guard against being fooled by the oracles. The name is also synonymous with our word “witch.”
In No.7 Terzetto, after the Count has discovered Cherubino hiding in a chair, a fearful Susanna says “giusti Dei!” Literally: “Just Gods!” This plural invocation calls upon Zeus and and his brother Poseidon. Zeus, the sky god, is the carrier of justice and judgment. Poseidon also carries something of the same character as Zeus with the exception that his authority comes from below as lord of the sea. From Zeus, with his penchant for extra-marital peccadillos, Susanna seeks a sympathetic heavenly intercession for being caught in a situation that would seemingly undermine her credibility as an honest woman. Poseidon has control over those events in life which are beyond the control of mortal men such as earthquakes, tidal waves, and clever little page boys who make bad situations worse requiring divine intervention to untangle the mess.
At the end of the recitative following this terzetto the Count calls Cherubino “picciol serpente” after realizing that the boy, while hidden, has heard the whole of his conversation with Susanna. The phrase means “little serpent.” The serpent is of course the tempter of Eve in the Garden of Eden. The Count believes that Cherubino has tried to tempt Susanna in the “garden” he wished to create for his own conquest. From the psychological point of view, the serpent also symbolizes the emotional “entanglements” with which the little serpent has entwined himself creating a much more dangerously complicated situation than the simple seduction of a pretty servant.
The finale of Act I is Figaro’s aria “Non piu andrai.” Since this aria is directed at Cherubino, let’s take a look at his name and the description titles Figaro gives him during the aria. Cherubino, whose true name is Leon de Astorga, has the dubious honor of being called “little cherub.” The cherubs, those naked winged babies in renaissance art, were also known as “amoretti,” or “little loves.” They were the descendants of the Roman god of erotic love known as Cupid or the Hindu god, Kama. Beaumarchais, the author of the play upon which Da Ponte based his libretto, wrote that at the bottom of Cherubino’s character is the vague, restless desire of adolescence in full hormonal attack. Each of the arrows of Kama, the Hindu god of erotic love, has a name such as “Death-bringing Agony” and “Open Up.” Perhaps, Beaumarchais is suggesting that Cherubino has an arsenal of arrows which will “open up” the love lives of the women in the castle.
In the aria, Figaro first calls Cherubino: “farfallone” which has two meanings: (1) a philanderer (2) a big butterfly, which is appropriate since Cherubino has been constantly flitting around the beauties of the castle night and day disturbing their rest. Figaro next calls him “Narcisetto” meaning “little Narcissus.” Narcissus was the youth drowned in the pool of water in which he was constantly admiring himself. Thus, he became the symbol of vanity, selfishness, self-love, and self-satisfaction. The next name he calls him is “Adocino” signifying “Little Adonis.” Adonis was the young lover of Aphrodite, the goddess of love and beauty. Adonis was killed by a boar one day while hunting. In some myths this boar was the god Ares, who was also a lover of Aphrodite. I believe this reference is very much pointed toward the Count as Adonis and Figaro as Ares, disguised as a boar. Da Ponte’s libretto does not actually indicate the exit of the Count and Basilio until the end of Figaro’s aria. Therefore a dramatic case can be made that Figaro’s name calling is equally directed (if not more) at the Count as well as Cherubino.
When Figaro begins to tell Cherubino about his future military life among the soldiers, he exclaims “poffar Bacco.” Another Bacchus reference, this time concerning the play of Euripides “The Bacchae.” In the play, Bacchus (or Dionysus) comes to Thebes as the instrument of change that will destroy the status quo of the King and his kingdom. Figaro now casts himself in a war fighting to bring change into society while the Count tries to keep business as usual.
Act II
After Susanna’s aria “Venite inginocchiatevi,” Susanna calls Cherubino “Serpentello” meaning “little serpent”. I would refer the reader to the previous explanation and history of “serpent” in Act I. Needless to say, Cherubino has continued to exude his adolescent sexual magic on the two women forcing Susanna to acknowledge its seductive power.
At the end of Cherubino and Susanna’s duettino, “Aprite, presto aprite,” Susanna addresses her nervous concerns to the pagan gods (“Oh Dei!”) as Cherubino is about to leap from the second floor window of the castle to escape the discovery and impending wrath of the Count. She continues with a sigh of relief at Cherubino’s safe leap from the window and calls him “demonietto” (little demon”). She is amazed at his speedy use of the devilish powers he seems to possess.
The finale to Act II contains references to “giusto ciel,” “giusti Dei,” and other various divinities, all of which are indicative of the belief that some unseen hand must be in charge of the events of this crazy day.
Act III
There is a very interesting reference in the beautiful duettino “sull’aria” between Susanna and the Countess. It occurs in the word “zeffiretto” meaning “little breeze.” A zephyr (or breeze) comes from the Greek god Zephrus who was the god of the West wind. Symbolically the wind represents change and the wind coming from the west signifies the realm of death. The death of errant behaviors and the return of husbandly love will be brought about by the West wind wafting “sotto i pini” (“under the pine trees”). The pine’s phallic shape is a symbol of masculine sexuality. Here, Da Ponte changed the tree type from Beaumarchais’ original chestnut trees to the much more sexually charged pines. Although, I must admit there’s something about those chestnuts of Beaumarchais that really gets me!
Act III Finale.
At the end of the dance during the wedding celebration, Figaro observes that the Count has received a note, which he assumes, by the Count’s reaction, is a billet-doux from a lady. During the Count’s pantomime with the note, Figaro ironically comments to Susanna (previously forbidden by the Countess to tell Figaro about the plan for fear of his gumming up the whole works again!) about the Count’s encounter with the note and the pin used to seal it. Finally, Figaro says what a “Narcissus” (“Il Narciso”) the Count is. (I refer the reader to Figaro’s Act I aria “Non piu andrai” for the meaning of Narcissus “Narcisetto”.)
Act IV
At this point in the opera, Figaro mistakenly believes that Susanna has arranged a lover’s rendezvous with the Count in the garden. Figaro, while waiting to take his revenge in the name of all husbands, sings the aria “Aprite un po’ quegl’occhi,” (“Open your eyes, guys!”). He warns all men not to believe in the trustworthiness of women. He calls them witches who cast spells on men to make them suffer, and “sirene” (“sirens”) singing their seductive songs to make men cast themselves into the sea and drown. This nautical reference is to one of the most famous epics in all mythology: The Odyssey, written by the Greek poet Homer. The adventure concerns Odysseus (Roman name: Ulysses) in his long quest to return home after the Trojan War. One of the episodes in the epic concerns the aforementioned “sirens.” Odysseus has been warned by the blind prophet Teiresias to beware of the island of the two sirens. Their singing was so sweetly seductive that any man hearing their song would be drawn to island’s rocky shore and killed. Odysseus was told to plug the ears of his men with wax in order to avoid being lured to their death. Unfortunately, Figaro has already heard the deceptive song of Susanna and has been thrown into a sea of dark despair. While floundering off the island of the Sirens, Figaro flings a couple more mythic stones at women: “son orse benigne, colombe maligne” (“they are gentle she-bears, malignant doves”). The she-bear is the symbol of the goddess Artemis (called Diana by the Romans) which was one of her incarnations. And since there is no such thing as a “gentle she-bear”, Figaro compares himself to Actaeon who while hunting got caught watching the naked goddess bathing and was torn apart by his dogs. The “malignant doves” are the totem of the mighty, flighty Aphrodite, and are the birds of sexual passion.
Act IV Finale
During the finale, which is a conundrum of mistaken identities, the Countess pretends to be Susanna. A self-deceived Figaro overhears the Count call Susanna: “Venere” (“Venus”). This sets the stage for the final mythological odyssey of Lorenzo Da Ponte. A few pages later after the exit of the Count and Susanna/Countess, Figaro says: “entro la bella Venere; col vago Marte prendere nuovo Vulcan del secolo in rete la potro!” (“The beautiful Venus has gone in with the handsome Mars; as the new Vulcan of the century, I will catch her in my net!”) Venus was the wife of Vulcan, the lame Smith-god. Unfortunately, Venus stayed too late in the arms of her lover, Mars, one fine summer night, and was seen by her hubby Vulcan. Enraged, Vulcan beat a hasty retreat to his blacksmith shop and made a bronze hunting net, as delicate as silk but totally unbreakable which he secretly attached to the post and sides of his wedding bed. (I’m sure the wedding bed irony was not lost on Figaro, who began this opera measuring the room given to them by the Count for their wedding bed!) Vulcan told Venus he needed a night out with the boys and that he was off to Corinth. As soon as he was out of sight, Venus paged Mars (which probably interrupted a quiet moment during a performance at the local amphitheater), who quickly joined his lover for some good old-fashioned …quality time. At dawn, they discovered they were hopelessly entangled in Vulcan’s bronze net. Vulcan surprising the illicit lovers, called all the gods to bear witness to the shameless couple ensnared in his bed. This myth surely echoes Figaro’s own plans for his unfaithful wife and the Count, by calling all the people of the castle to witness their treachery and shaming them in front of all.
For the artist and audience engaged in the live or recorded experience of Mozart’s Le Nozze di Figaro, understanding Da Ponte’s ironical interweaving of myths of the classic past brings an enhanced enjoyment and depth. I have a suspicion that the residents of Mount Olympus would also be amused by their own contribution.
