of his pupil
Henry Purcell (1658-1695) it may also be perceived, although coloured
and transmuted by the intensely English character of Purcell's own
genius. For many years it was supposed that Purcell's first and,
strictly speaking, his only opera, 'Dido and AEneas,' was written by him
at the age of seventeen and produced in 1675. Mr. Barclay Squire has now
proved that it was not produced until much later, but this scarcely
lessens the wonder of it, for Purcell can never have seen an opera
performed, and his acquaintance with the new art-form must have been
based upon Pelham Humphrey's account of the performances which he had
seen in Paris. Possibly, too, he may have had opportunities of studying
the engraved scores of some of Lulli's operas, which, considering the
close intercourse between the courts of France and England, may have
found their way across the Channel. 'Dido and AEneas' is now universally
spoken of as the first English opera. Masques had been popular from the
time of Queen Elizabeth onwards, which the greatest living poets and
musicians had not disdained to produce, and Sir William Davenant had
given performances of musical dramas 'after the manner of the Ancients'
during the closing years of the Commonwealth, but it is probable that
spoken dialogue occurred in all these entertainments, as it certainly
did in Locke's 'Psyche,' Banister's 'Circe,' in fact, in all the
dramatic works of this period which were wrongly described as operas. In
'Dido and AEneas,' on the contrary, the music is continuous throughout.
Airs and recitatives, choruses and instrumental pieces succeed each
other, as in the operas of the Italian and French schools. 'Dido and
AEneas' was written for performance at a young ladies' school kept by
one Josias Priest in Leicester Fields and afterwards at Chelsea. The
libretto was the work of Nahum Tate, the Poet Laureate of the time. The
opera is in three short acts, and Virgil's version of the story is
followed pretty closely save for the intrusion of a sorceress and a
chorus of witches who have sworn Dido's destruction and send a messenger
to AEneas, disguised as Mercury, to hasten his departure. Dido's death
song, which is followed by a chorus of mourning Cupids, is one of the
most pathetic scenes ever written, and illustrates in a forcible manner
Purcell's beautiful and ingenious use of a ground-bass. The gloomy
chromatic passage constantly repeated by the bass instruments, with
ever-var