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18
Singers:
Glyndebourne and Edinburgh
The
voice – the most beautiful instrument
of all – heard to perfection in a delightful
opera house in the country and at the
Edinburgh Festival. An incredible catalogue
of artists singing Rossini, Mozart and
Strauss.
I
have left until last the most wonderful
instrument of all, the most beautiful,
expressive and thrilling – the human
voice. Every instrumentalist, whether
playing the tuba or piccolo, the violin
or the bassoon, the piano or bass drum,
attempts to emulate the singing quality
and ability to express the whole range
of emotions with the subtlety of nuance
that great singers can achieve.
There
is nothing more musically enjoyable
than taking part in performances in
the company of singers who have beautiful
voices and are fine artists, whether
it is in the opera house, when recording,
broadcasting, making films or in the
concert hall. And nowhere was it more
enjoyable than at Glyndebourne. To begin
with, to make music in such a beautiful
setting is something very special. I
was extremely fortunate to play for
the Glyndebourne opera seasons at Glyndebourne
itself and when the company took part
in the Edinburgh Festival each year
from 1948 until 1954 whilst I was in
the Royal Philharmonic Orchestra.
There
have been a number of attempts to emulate
the example set by Glyndebourne, but
none have been able to match the unique
near perfection that was achieved there
in the first years after the end of
WW2.
In 1920
John Christie inherited Glyndebourne,
a fine country house with beautiful
gardens and several long ponds surrounded
with weeping willows. The house and
gardens are part of a large estate in
the midst of the woods and downs of
one of the loveliest parts of East Sussex.
When Christie inherited the estate he
was already forty and a science master
at Eton, where he been for many years
and where he himself had been a schoolboy.
Some years later he married Audrey Mildmay,
a young singer who at that time was
in the Carl Rosa Opera Company. Inspired
by her and his own love of music he
decided to build a small opera house
onto the side of the house.
It was
here, in this delightful miniature opera
house, later enlarged and now replaced
by a splendid new Theatre, but then
still seating only about 300, that I
spent many very happy hours playing
Mozart, Rossini and Verdi operas and
hearing them sung by a wonderful cast
of singers. The orchestra at that time
was, in my opinion, playing as well
as it ever has. All of us in the RPO
felt that we were there because Beecham
wanted us to be. We were full of enthusiasm
and doing Glyndebourne was so enjoyable,
even though nearly all the members of
the orchestra had to travel back and
forth from London each day so that sometimes
there was a fair amount of moaning,
especially as the seasons became longer.
At that time I had two small children
and I took advantage of the opportunity
for the family to be in the country
for several weeks.
Audrey
and John Christie created a wonderful
atmosphere at Glyndebourne. When we
had the interval during rehearsals the
principal singers, chorus and orchestra
would have coffee outside under the
covered way adjoining the opera house.
There was a quality of friendliness
and the feeling that one was at a country
house party, making music for the sheer
pleasure of doing so. It was quite unlike
anything I have experienced anywhere
else.
One
year I had a caravan in the field about
100 yards from the stage door. It was
under a great oak tree and we were awakened
every morning by sheep bumping against
the side of the van. Unfortunately the
tree is no longer there, having had
to make way for the ever expanding car
park. The administrators of the Estate
Trust told me that it would be impossible
for me to have a caravan anywhere on
the estate as it was strictly forbidden.
I thought it might be worthwhile asking
Mr Christie himself. Though in books
about Glyndebourne he is portrayed as
being rather difficult at times, I found
him very pleasant. When I told him that
the estate office had refused permission
he said, ‘Go ahead and bring your caravan.
We won’t tell anyone – it will be quite
all right.’
In 1948
and 1949, for various reasons, the main
one being insufficient money, it was
not possible to have a season at Glyndebourne
before appearing at the Edinburgh Festival.
Many of us used to drive up to Edinburgh
for the three weeks of the Festival.
Unlike today, when the journey by road
from London to Edinburgh takes about
5 hours, throughout the years I drove
up it was dangerous to attempt to do
it in one day. We always stopped the
night at Boroughbridge and arrived in
Edinburgh the following day at lunchtime.
In both
the 1948 and ‘49 seasons and for all
the years I was at Glyndebourne we did
Così fan tutte by Mozart.
From start to finish the music Mozart
composed for this opera is sublime.
Arias, duets, trios and ensemble follow
each other, each a miracle whether expressing
tenderness, subterfuge, deceit or humour.
The cast was always outstanding and
never better than in those first years.
After several rehearsals for the orchestra
alone the singers would join us, sitting
in a semi-circle round the orchestra.
This was always a delight because as
each soloist stood up to sing their
first aria one was astonished that it
was possible that this one could be
as good as the last.
The
only performances of Così,
from 1948 until 1954, in which Sena
Jurinac did not take part were in 1948.
Another very fine singer Suzanne Danco
sang the part of Fiordiligi and Dorabella
was sung by Eugenia Zareska, who a couple
of years previously, when I was still
in the LPO, had sung The Songs of
a Wayfarer by Mahler so well when
we recorded it with Eduard van Beinum.
She was a fine artist. Their lovers,
Ferrando and Guglielmo, were played
by Petre Munteanu and Erich Kunz. Mariano
Stabile played the old schemer Don Alfonso
and his accomplice, the maid Despina,
was Hilda Gueden. As well as being such
fine singers, Stabile, Kunz and Gueden
were able to bring out the sly humour
that in no way distracted from the music.
In Carl Ebert’s magical production,
conducted by Vittorio Gui and with this
superb cast, it was without doubt very,
very special. It remains for me the
touchstone by which every opera production
is judged.
What
made it so delightful was the combination
of beautiful music superbly sung and
played and the humour and pathos enacted
on stage. Mozart’s insight into the
human condition, conveyed so subtly
in his music, was not distorted by over
emphasis of the director’s point of
view, as so often is the case now. This
was at the time when the balance of
power between the music and the production
was roughly 60% to 40%. Carl Ebert was
one of the finest producers (he would
now be called a director) of his day
and regarded as something of a tyrant
by those who worked with him. It was
not at all unusual for him to scrap
all the scenery that had been specially
built for a scene, half way through
rehearsals. But he always recognised
that the music came first, even though
sometimes with conspicuous ill humour.
It is so easy for the words to be flagrantly
in opposition to the action the characters
on stage are forced to impersonate by
a wilful director and thereby distort
the mores of the period that
the librettist and composer lived in
and which are an integral part of their
conception.
That
year we also did Don Giovanni with Rafael
Kubelik conducting. As well as being
a charming man Kubelik was certainly
in the class of the ‘Great and the Good’.
In fact he was very good indeed. Again
there was a very fine cast: Ljuba Welitsch
was an impressive and dramatic Donna
Anna and Richard Lewis played Don Ottavio.
Lewis, a most sensitive artist with
a lovely voice, was to be one of the
mainstays of the Glyndebourne company
for some years. The part of Zerlina
was shared by Ann Ayars and Hilda Gueden.
Both were good, but Gueden, who was
so attractive and had such a happy knack
of bringing gaiety and a sense of fun
to her performances, brought an extra
something special to the role. Many
years later I was in an orchestra when
she recorded a number of arias. Now
a much more mature artist, she had retained
those qualities. Paolo Silveri was the
suitably macho seducing Don Giovanni
and David Franklin an imposing Commendatore.
Franklin probably had the longest career
at Glyndebourne of anyone, appearing
in numerous roles from 1936 until 1959.
At the
1949 Edinburgh Festival, we did Così
again and Un Ballo In Maschera
(A Masked Ball) by Verdi, with Gui
conducting both operas. For Così
Sena Jurinac joined the company and
sang the mezzo soprano role, Dorabella.
As in the 1948 production Suzanne Danco
was a very fine Fiordiligi. From the
start Jurinac won the hearts of the
all-male RPO. A wonderful artist with
a personality to match, she was naturally
friendly and charming and totally without
any affectation. This time Marko Rothmuller
was our Guglielmo; very good, but without
Erich Kunz’s infectious sense of fun.
The Australian John Brownlee, who had
played Don Giovanni with such success
in 1936, was Don Alfonso
Un
Ballo In Maschera by Verdi was the
first of two Verdi operas Gui conducted
during my time in the orchestra. Here
again there was a splendid cast with
Paolo Silveri as Riccardo and Margherita
Grandi and Ljuba Welitsch alternating
as Amelia. Oscar was played by Alda
Noni who was to be another artist to
appear regularly in the Glyndebourne
company. In 1952 Gui conducted Macbeth.
Marko Rothmuller played Macbeth
and Dorothy Dow was an excellent Lady
Macbeth.
Vittorio
Gui was an extremely good opera conductor
who knew the operas in that special
way that Italian opera conductors all
seemed to have, whether they were very
good or only mediocre. One felt they
knew the operas in their sleep and if
woken suddenly would give the right
beat and the next entry to the singer
on stage without hesitation. Gui never
looked very happy and often conducted
while holding one hand against his face
as if he was in despair, which he clearly
was not as he conducted Rossini’s opera
buffa with such a light but disciplined
hand. In this he was like all the best
conductors of ‘light music’ I have worked
with. They seemed to lack humour and
were strict disciplinarians. On one
occasion, I think it was when we were
rehearsing Un Ballo In Maschera,
Silveri took what Gui considered to
be a liberty with the music, perhaps
extending the length of a note for longer
than the composer intended. When Silveri
attempted to defend himself Gui would
have none of it and dismissed him from
the stage as if he was just a student
rather than a baritone with an international
reputation.
For
the 1950 and 1951 seasons Fritz Busch
returned to Glyndebourne where in 1934
he had conducted the first season of
opera to be staged there. It was for
two weeks, during which he conducted
and Carl Ebert, whom he had recommended
should be engaged as producer, were
responsible for the performances of
Così fan tutte and The
Marriage of Figaro that were greeted
with such enthusiasm by both the audiences
and critics. Each year until 1939 when
the war started, short seasons of opera
were mounted at Glyndebourne
In 1950
Busch conducted Così and
Die Entführung ausi dem Serail
(The Abduction from the Seraglio)
at Glyndebourne and in 1951 four Mozart
operas, Idomeneo, The Marriage of
Figaro, Don Giovanni and Così
fan tutte at Glyndebourne and
Verdi’s The Force of Destiny
and Don Giovanni in Edinburgh.
I think there was some disappointment
when he returned that his performances
did not quite match the reputation that
had preceded him. Only a couple of weeks
after that season ended in September
1951 Busch died at the early age of
61.
Sena
Jurinac was wonderful when she sang
the role of Fiordiligi for the first
time in 1950 and continued to enchant
us each year. The role of Dorabella,
which she sang the previous year, was
taken by another very fine artist Blanche
Thebom, who was one of the leading dramatic
mezzos at the Metropolitan Opera House
in New York for many years. Richard
Lewis was excellent as Ferrando and
the Welsh baritone Geraint Evans made
the first of many subsequent appearances,
sharing the role of Guglielmo with Erich
Kunz. He was then still only 28 and
quite inexperienced. He did not yet
have the well-honed skill Kunz had acquired,
but he brought a freshness and warm
humour that immediately endeared him
to the audience and the orchestra.
From
the beginning in 1934, with John Christie’s
enthusiastic support, Busch and Ebert
had demanded a good many more rehearsals
than were normal elsewhere in order
to attain the standard of ensemble and
staging they wished to achieve. Indeed
this did have the desired effect, but
for the clarinet section in particular
this could sometimes be burdensome.
In 1951 in particular when we did four
Mozart operas – could one ask for anything
better? – rehearsals at times became
difficult. There is nothing more wearing
for a performer – actor, dancer or musician
–than sitting (or standing) around doing
nothing at the same time as trying to
remain alert for the next time he or
she is called upon to do something.
The
clarinet, the ‘nouveau riche of the
orchestra’ as the superb oboist Terence
MacDonagh always called us, was still
a relative newcomer to the orchestra’s
woodwind section at the time Mozart
was writing his operas. Though no one
has written more beautifully or with
greater understanding of the clarinet’s
potential than Mozart, he did not use
it all the time. There are a number
of places in the operas when the clarinets
have nothing to play at all for 15 or
20 minutes. When these sections are
being rehearsed one can be inactive
for half an hour or more. When Gluck
wrote Alceste in 1767, more than
20 years before Così fan tutte,
the clarinet was still in its infancy
and in that opera he uses it very sparingly,
mainly to play in unison with the brass.
In one act there is nothing for the
clarinets to play for about 20 minutes,
then four bars of long notes, quite
inaudible to anyone bar the players
themselves, and then another 20 minutes
in which they are not required. In 1953
it was decided to mount this opera at
Glyndebourne. Jack Brymer and I felt
that our presence would not be missed
for those four bars so we marked them
TACET (remain silent) Maestro Gui appeared
to be quite happy and so were we as
we sat outside at both the rehearsals
and the performances having a quiet
smoke (we still smoked in those far
off days and survived to tell the tale).
The following year Alceste was
to be performed again. Nothing had been
said but when we looked at our parts
we saw that TACET had been removed and
in its place in large red letters was
written PLEASE PLAY.
When
we went to Edinburgh in 1950 we were
in for a very special treat. As well
as doing The Marriage of Figaro
with the very fine conductor Ferenc
Fricsay, we were joined by Sir Thomas
Beecham. It was quite usual with Beecham,
if he was not included in some event
like the Edinburgh Festival or when
a new hall such as the Royal Festival
Hall was opened, to condemn and abuse
it. He had been noticeably absent from
the Festivals in 1947, ‘48 and ‘49 and
had not been silent in letting the world
know that he did not think much of what
had taken place in those years. This
led, as it usually did, to him taking
the lion’s share soon after. Edinburgh
rewarded him for his forthrightness
by allowing him to direct the original
version of Strauss’s Ariadne auf
Naxos as well as conduct concerts
in the Usher hall with his own orchestra
on two of the three Sundays during the
Festival.
Originally
the one act opera Ariadne is
preceded by a prologue, a shortened
version of Moliere’s Le Bourgeois
Gentilhomme, for which Strauss wrote
the delightful incidental music, now
most often heard as an orchestral suite.
A few years later Strauss was obliged
to compose a new first act to replace
the acted prologue because of the problems
involved in engaging a cast of actors
as well as singers. It is this second
version that it usually performed. Beecham
had decided to do it in the original,
and very expensive version (especially
as the Festival organisers would be
paying), that requires 21 actors for
the prologue and ten singers for the
opera itself.
The
casts for the prologue and the opera
were both excellent. The actors were
led by Miles Malleson, a wonderfully
droll actor, as Monsieur Jourdain. In
Ariadne there are two quite different
sets of characters: Ariadne and Bacchus
are dramatic and very serious and the
commedia dell’arte characters,
Harlequin, Brighella, Truffaldo and
Scaramuccio, are led by Zerbinetta.
Ariadne and her lover Bacchus were sung
by Hilde Zadek and Peter Anders and
the extraordinarily difficult coloratura
part Strauss wrote for Zerbinetta
by Ilse Hollweg.
In 1953
and ‘54 we did Ariadne again,
but this time in Strauss’s all sung
version, and conducted by John Pritchard.
Though Pritchard was so talented and
was conducting at his very best, he
did not have that inimitable something
that Beecham brought to everything he
conducted. Some of the parts originally
spoken are sung in the later version
and in particular the role of the Composer
is enlarged and considerably altered.
However, it was now a part in which
Sena Jurinac could excel. It is a ‘trouser’
role, a part written to be played by
a woman impersonating a young man. The
part of Cherubino in The Marriage
of Figaro is a similar role and
another that Jurinac did so well. The
part of Zerbinetta was now taken by
an astonishing black soprano, Mattiwilda
Dobbs. Her remarkable vocal virtuosity
was matched by her sparkling quicksilver
vivacity as an actress.
In the
spoken prologue, when the Composer complains
that some of his music will be lost
because of the absurd arrangement Monsieur
Jourdain has made that his opera and
the commedia dell’arte ballet
are to be performed at the same
time, he is told ‘some of the best operas
are known by their cuts’. The four Mozart
operas that Busch conducted in 1951
are ‘some of the best operas’ from which
I would not wish any cuts to be made,
especially when sung by casts that included
Lisa Della Casa, Owen Brannigan, Murray
Dickie, Sesto Bruscantini, Richard Lewis,
Suzanne Danco, Leopold Simoneau, Alois
Pernerstorfer and with the smaller roles
performed extremely well by less well-known
artists.
An especial
delight from 1952 onwards was the inclusion
of operas by Rossini in productions
with marvellous singing and deft comic
acting. As every actor will tell you
it is much harder to play comedy than
tragedy. When it has to be sung perhaps
it is even harder. Under Ebert’s and
Gui’s strict control there was never
a moment when the comedy was overplayed
or the music became coarsened.
The
three I was privileged to take part
in were La Cenerentola, in 1952
at Glyndebourne and in 1953 at Glyndebourne
and Edinburgh, The Barber of Serville
at Glyndebourne and Le Comte
Ory in Edinburgh. The cast for Cenerentola
was the same for all three performances.
Marina De Gabarain, who sang the role
of Cenerentola, was not really the coloratura
mezzo-soprano the part requires, but
she was more than adequate and had the
sweet-natured simplicity and musicality
that made her successful. Juan Oncina
was her dulcet-voiced Don Ramiro. The
ugly sisters were amusingly horrid but
very well sung by Alda Noni and Fernanda
Cadoni. But the best of all were the
roles taken by Sesto Bruscantini as
Dandini and our own Ian Wallace as Don
Magnifico. They were truly ridiculously
hilarious, never going ‘over the top’,
and always remaining vocally secure
and musically appropriate.
In 1954
there was The Barber of Seville at
Glyndebourne and Le Comte Ory at
Edinburgh. Some of those who had been
in Cenerentola were also in these
operas. They were joined in Barber
by Graziella Sciutti as a splendid Rosina
and in Comte Ory by Sari Barabas
who as well as singing beautifully looked
so attractive that she stole the heart
of our then principal cello. Sadly his
affection remained unrequited.
In 1954
it was decided to perform Ferruuccio
Busoni’s little known one act opera
Arlecchino before the performance
of Ariadne. John Pritchard conducted
and Ian Wallace, Geraint Evans and Murray
Dickie played the principal roles. The
opera did not make a great impression
and as far as I know it has not been
done again at Glyndebourne.
Finally,
a very different opera from those I
have written about so far. In 1953 Glyndebourne
gave the first performances in Britain
of The Rake’s Progress by Stravinsky.
The conductor was Alfred Wallenstein
who was soon christened Mr Idris by
the orchestra because his habitual expression
was similar to a lemon with a very sour
face featured in an advertisement for
a fruit drink of that name. This was
another of Ebert’s splendid productions,
with a cast to match. The American Jerome
Hines was outstanding as a saturnine
Nick Shadow with Elsie Morison, Richard
Lewis, Nan Merriman, Mary Jarred and
Murray Dickie all excellent. The whole
performance was a joy and with the witty
set and costumes designed by Osbert
Lancaster as well this was one of the
highlights of my years at Glyndebourne.
Chapter
19
