Troy stands triumphant ARTS
EDWARD BOYLE
A generation ago the idea of a complete per- formance of The Trojans, entire and uncut within the compass of a single evening, would have seemed almost inconceivable. But last Sunday's marathon Prom performance by Colin Davis, the cso and Chorus (the latter augmented by members of the Chelsea Opera Group) and a distinguished team of soloists, was a magnificent vindication of the view that this is a noble and coherent masterpiece of music drama, by no means too unwieldy to be taken in as a whole, and particularly well- suited to a concert performance.
Some of the music must have been unfamiliar to many listeners as it was certainly new to me, for instance much of the ballet which pre- ' cedes the chorus of Nubian slaves in the Garden Scene; it is rather long, yet it provides a much-needed interlude of relaxation before the great ensembles that follow. Of course, there were moments, such as Cassandra's vision of the fall of Troy, when one did feel rather acutely the lack of a stage setting. But the con- ditions of a concert performance made it easier to appreciate the opulent splendour—the sheer glory—of Berlioz's orchestral writing, especi- ally for the brass. Personally, I was more worried, in places, by the English version— basically Edward Dent, but with certain re- visions. For many of us, surely, some of the most ravishing moments in The Trojans are bound up inextricably with the original French libretto, as for instance when Aeneas tells Dido of Andromache's marriage to Pyrrhus, and Dido's voice rises to a soft, high note as she replies Quoil la veuve d'Hector!; 'She that was Hector's wife' sounds clumsy.
Cohn Davis's mastery of this great score is already outstanding, and his combination, of . sensitivity and vigour throughout the long evening was remarkable, though it would of course have been unrealistic to expect anything so flawless as his handling of L'Enfance du Christ four weeks ago. In the first part, The Capture of Troy, I especially admired his handling of the great chorus at the start of Att Two, 'Almighty Gods through whom Troy stands eternal,' with its striking alternations be- tween major and minor. (Thank goodness the chorus elected to 'upraise' prayer to the gods, and not 'upheave' a la Dent.) Ernest Newman quotes a French writer as saying that this chorus reminds us of 'warriors marching in angular profile across some sculptured frieze,' and Davis's rhythmic spring exactly fitted this description. Another fine moment was the appearance of the ghost of Hector, when the inexorable dotted rhythm combined with the sombre instrumentation gave exactly the right impression of suffering majesty. Only the Tro- jan March, on its first appearance, disappointed me a little; the brass, for about the only time in the evening, were not crisp enough, and the chorus never quite got off the ground.
There was even more to admire in the second part, The Trojans at Carthage, though also, I felt, just one or two shortcomings. Colin Davis's handling of the lengthy opening act was admirably spacious and varied, with a splendidly conclusive ending (after Aeneas has pledged the support of his Trojans against Dido's barbarian foes) when a superbly con- trolled orchestral decrescendo preceded the loud final chords. The climaxes of both the last two acts were dramatically thrilling, especially the final encounter between the dis- tracted Dido and the remorseful Aeneas, after the sound of the Trojan March has finally steeled him to fulfil his destiny. I thought the opening bars of the Royal Hunt and Storm were not quite sufficiently soft and mysterious— surely the initial theme, descending chromatic- ally from a high C, wants to steal in upon the hearer; and I'm used to hearing the piccolo more prominent at the height of the storm. More seriously, at the start of the wonderful Quintet, the sudden uprushing figure in the orchestra which follows Dido's first recitation of the words: 'All conspires to vanquish my remorse' surely sounded too jaunty, and not sufficiently rapturous; this is, after all, one of the supreme moments in the entire opera.
The orchestral playing was nearly all ex- tremely fine, and a special mark is due to Bernard Walton for his glorious performance of the clarinet solo in the moving scene when Andromache and Astyanax appear before Priam. To be hypercritical, I thought the heart- breaking middle section, in the major, sounded almost too romantic in style—this is one of those passages when the player, however tempted to let himself go, must never forget Berlioz's admiration for Virgil and for Gluck, nor what Mr David Cairns has called his `classical hauteur.' The Ls° Chorus, with its additional Chelsea contingent, also did itself great credit. The optimum size of the chorus in The Trojans is not easy to decide, but I felt that the large numbers justified themselves, especially at the end of the first part, when the tone of the women's section of the chorus (the 'Women of Troy') rang out most effectively.
The leading soloists all sang finely. Amy Shuard's Cassandra was as strong and effective as one remembered it from the 1957 Covent Garden production, and she produced fine notes in every part of her register; her duet with Choroebus (Delme Bryn-Jones), 'Leave, leave Troy this night,' was a most successful realisation of a number which can, unless well performed, sound a little cheap. Josephine Veasey was easily the finest Dido I have heard, suitably imperious in her long opening num- ber with absolutely solid and • even tone over its wide compass (she had no difficulty with her top B Flat). Her tender duet with Anna, most beautifully sung by Anna Reynolds, was one of the highlights of the evening: I have a special affection, as I'm sure have many other listeners, for the E Major section of this duet, softly introduced by the horn, that begins at Dido's words: 'Her voice would in my breast revive . . .'—the contour of the melody in the third and fourth lines is particularly haunting. The celebrated duet with Aeneas, '0 sweet night,' also went divinely, just a shade faster than usual, but really soft, as the composer marked. However, it was not only in the tender passages that Veasey excelled—her rage and her determination on self-destruction were just as effective.
Ronald Dowd matched Josephine Veasey well as Aeneas, and the end of his great num- ber: 'There is no turning back' was impressively done. Yet I felt that he did not quite convey the combination of passionate ardour and chaste reserve, which is such a feature of Berlioz's love music, and occasionally his phrasing seemed short-winded. Among the smaller parts, Ryland Davies sang the captivating song of Hylas, the young sailor, with beautiful tone, though one might not have gathered from this performance that Hylas was lulling himself to sleep; the orchestral accompaniment was per- fection.
It is, indeed, to the orchestra, and to Colin Davis himself, that one finally returns. Like his conducting of The Midsummer Marriage in the spring, he can reasonably regard last Sun- day's performance as one of the highest points in his career so far, and one could hardly have hoped for a more satisfying prelude to next year's Berlioz centenary. We are indeed for- tunate, both in the quality of home talent avail- able to mark the occasion, and in our indebted- ness to the courage of Mr William Glock and his colleagues of the Bac who decided to include such a marvellous bonus within a most distinguished Prom season.
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