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Henry Purcell’s Haunting Masterpiece New York
El Museo del Barrio
10/20/2025 - & October 16, 18, 2025 (Washington)
Henry Purcell: Dido and Aeneas
Mary Elizabeth Williams (Dido), Elijah McCormack (Aeneas), Chelsea Hehn (Belinda), Hans Tashjian (Sorcerer), Cecilia McKinley (Second Witch, Spirit), Kayleigh Sprouse (Second Woman, First Witch)
Opera Lafayette Chorus, Opera Lafayette Orchestra, Patrick Dupre Quigley (Conductor, Artistic Director)
Corinne Hayes (Stage Director), Lisa Schlenker (Set Design), Lynly Saunders (Costume Design)
K. Sprouse/C. Hehn (© Opera Lafayette)
“Here lies Henry Purcell Esquire, who left life and is gone to that blessed place where only his harmony can be exceeded.”
Epitaph on Purcell’s obelisk
When first ascending to the ruins of Carthage in Tunisia, my mind was murmuring Berlioz’ Trojans. At the top amid the Carthage monuments, its graceful pillars, the wine‑dark Mediterranean Sea, the silhouette of Sicily in the background, the mind immediately morphed into Henry Purcell’s Dido and Aeneas.
Not initially the gorgeous lament (excuse the oxymoron) but the lilting harmonies of the opening “Banish sorrow, banish care.” For Purcell’s masterpiece is filled with melodies, choruses, and–within a mere hour–three acts which never diminish in pure loveliness.
That, in fact, is how Washington DC three‑decade‑old Lafayette Opera presented the opera. The background was azure blue, the set was changed on the open stage for all three acts, and Patrick Dupre Quigley’s Baroque orchestra–strings, oboe, recorder, theorbo, harpsichord and percussion–gave the precise music for the mostly lovely voices.
I hesitate to say this was an “original” production. Purcell’s score was lost, and all we have are bits and pieces. But enough was put together for a simulacrum of authenticity.
We do surmise that the first performance was a girl’ boarding school–and stage designer Lisa Schlenker, while updating, filled the stage with giggling, playful schoolgirls.
This was deceiving. The seven‑girl Lafayette Chorus sung in perfect harmony, danced with delight. Never offstage, they were the unalloyed stars of the show.
Traditionally, Dido is a mezzo. Here, the statuesque Mary Elizabeth Williams’ soprano made the regal (and devastating) lyrical mate with Chelsea Hehn’s soprano as Belinda. Both were radiant in an almost‑all female production. Aeneas, usually a tenor, was more to Purcell’s tradition, with male soprano Elijah McCormack quite affecting.
True enough, with all his adventures after leaving Troy, I doubt that Aeneas would still be wearing a crown. But nobody in 1680’s London would have objected. Then too, his slight stature next to Ms. Williams was unavoidably a physical misnomer.
On the other hand Aeneas is hardly the star of the opera. The vocal credits are to Dido, Belinda and that marvelous chorus.
The one disappointment here was sorcerer Hans Tashjian. In other productions this role is–unfairly–the audience sensation. Our sorcerer should cackle and ululate. I have seen the role make the Hansel and Gretel witch look like Mary Poppins. Certainly delighting the groundlings in Purcell’s later productions.
Mr. Tashjian was elegant, suave, in a demonic black cloak but hardly with as much as a demonic sneer.
Never mind. We still had constant stage movement, the counterpoint of the Lafayette Chorus against the principals, and the wondrous music.
Most who traveled up to the Museo del Barrio were perhaps waiting for the ending Lament. Even the 20‑odd-measure orchestral introduction has a touching gravity. Ms. Williams did not disappoint. As she soared to the high G of “Remember Me,” one actually believed. As we did the choral elegy by the pyre “With drooping wings, ye Cupids come...”
An ending to an story as tragic as any 19th Century verismo opera.
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CODA: Each time I hear Dido and Aeneas, I realize that the wickedest operatic villain was his wife Frances. It was she (according to legend) who locked the 35‑year‑old composer out of his house after a night of drunken ale‑drinking. Catching a chill and death, he denied us another half‑century of music. Not Dido, but Mrs. Purcell deserves the fiery funeral pyre.
Harry Rolnick
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