Dido and Aeneas is a Baroque opera by English composer Henry Purcell, composed around 1688, and based on Book IV of the Aeneid, the Latin epic poem written by Virgil in the second decade BCE, that tells the legendary story of Aeneas, a Trojan who travelled to Italy to found a city and become the ancestor of the Romans.
Book IV recounts how his ship, en route from Epirus to Sicily, is blown off course and lands on the shores of Carthage in North Africa, where Aeneas falls in love with their queen, Dido, and she with him. However, Aeneas is reminded by the gods of his destiny and he must dutifully depart for Italy, leaving Dido in despair at her abandonment.
The opera culminates with its most famous aria, When I Am Laid In Earth, popularly known as Dido’s Lament, wherein Dido slowly dies of a broken heart.
Here, we will enjoy Dame Janet Baker performing the role of Dido at Glyndebourne in 1966. It is widely considered to be one of the greatest expositions of tragedy in modern operatic history. The lament is divided into two parts: the “recitative” which sets the scene, and the aria which follows and leads us to Dido’s death. Here we will cut to the aria. Dido’s sister, Belinda, her face radiating a deeply-felt empathy, springs forward to support Dido both morally and physically. Now watch Dido begin her lament. Here’s the libretto by Nahum Tate:
When I am laid, am laid in earth, may my wrongs create
No trouble, no trouble in thy breast;
Remember me, remember me, but ah! forget my fate.
Remember me, but ah! forget my fate.
The music is in G Minor, the ultimate key for expressing sadness and tragedy, and the bassline (passacaglia) repeats as if in waves of despair, descending, like Dido, toward the grave. Janet Baker has been quoted as saying: “if the Fates are with you, the magic will descend”; they must have been with her here: her manipulation of the vibrato and legato, her bearing, the genuine pathos – the scene is mesmerising.
With superb silent support from Sheila Armstrong as Belinda, Baker’s immersion in the role is absolute and all-consuming. Take a look at 1:49 and again at 1:56, at the end of the words “Remember me”, and note her head and throat momentarily sag with anguish. Her legs give way at 4:12 and the ladies-in-waiting, in unison, take a fearful step forward. The lament now descends chromatically, semitone by semitone, as Dido descends inch by inch, dead, to the ground.
The repeated phrase “Remember me” is wringing with sentiment; it is no surprise to find Purcell’s music to the lament used at Remembrance Day services around the country, to poignant effect.
