Like any great work of art, Dido can be enjoyed on a number of levels. As a ripping good children’s yarn, with some great tunes; as an allegorical fantasy on a contemporary political scene which scholars are still unable to pinpoint with any security; and as a dark, brooding, rather disturbing and unsettling work in the best traditions of English psychological drama.

Since this is getting a bit serious, it's time for some birthday cake first. The challenge of putting Dido together on essentially one day’s rehearsal was almost as strenuous as blowing out the candles on the Forum's 21st birthday cake:

NWEMF then performed the opera to an audience of some 100 people, with a choir of 50, 9 soloists, and an orchestra of 12 including 3 continuo players. Some compromises were forced simply by the circumstances and the need to put things together quickly. There was no Prologue; no dance element; no stagework; and very little in the way of orchestration. Yet somehow these things did not seem to matter. What did matter was the dramatic tension and the atmosphere. This is where the setting, the participation of several talented young ladies in key singing roles (historically highly appropriate, of course), a receptive audience, a real sense of commitment, and Roger’s inspired direction, were the factors that really counted.

Tabley House is sufficiently remote from the M6 motorway and Manchester Airport that one can experience the darkness and stillness of a traditional English country house, essential elements in recreating the mood of Purcell’s drama. To be sure the rather loud chimes of Tabley’s Long Gallery clock could come at a decidedly awkard moment (and pitch), but in a way they even contributed to the atmosphere.

Any budding composer of film music could do worse than study Purcell’s realisation of Dido (even if the bland instruction ‘Horrid Musick’ is not particularly illuminating). Scholars may argue ad nauseam about the merits or otherwise of Nahum Tate’s libretto, but there is never a dull moment as Purcell plays havoc with our emotions during the plot. Following a rollicking Act I we are plunged into the Cave scene where the Sorceress and her (his?) witches start causing mayhem. The sudden change of mood was assisted by a change in orchestration from guitar to violone at this point.

The Grove Scene of Act 2 is a strange affair. Somehow the exuberance of Act 1 has not quite returned, thanks to the persistent D minor tonality. There is a puzzling reference to Acteon (who, you remember, made the mistake of ogling the naked Diana in the woods, so she turns him into a stag and he ends up being gored to death by his own hounds. A moral Augustinian tale, no doubt. Charpentier did well to spin a 1½ hour opera out of that one). Not even the inclusion of a flamenco-like Folia dance to entertain Aeneas managed to lift the prevailing sense of gloom from the enforced jollity. But then all weddings are like that. Eventually Aeneas gets the really bad news - but following his final anguished top F, we are in deep trouble; to end the scene Purcell proposed to give us a chorus and a ‘Grove’ dance, for neither of which any music survives. Our solution was a very slow French style Sarabande, following which there was an unearthly silence for almost a minute.

Frivolity returns with the sailors in Act 3, the troublemakers of the underworld put in another gratuitously smug appearance, and Aeneas pathetically tries to assure Dido that he won’t go after all. She knows of course he’s telling porkers. How is it that women ALWAYS know? ‘Thus on the fatal Banks of Nile Weeps the deceitful Crocodile’ (well, I did warn you about the words). Is this where the phrase ‘crocodile tears’ comes from? Finally it was time for a good old sob as we get Dido’s great moment. Marks & Spencer must have done a roaring trade in their handkerchief department the following week.

Dido and Belinda at the conclusion

Thanks to Mavis Fox for the photographs of the event.