A season of Handel operas, part 3: Giulio Cesare
César remet Cléopâtre sur le trône d'Egypte [Caesar offers Cleopatra the throne of Egypt], by Pierre de Cortone (Pietro da Cortona), ca. 1637. Image source: Musée des Beaux-Arts de Lyon
Giulio Cesare (1724). Christophe Dumaux (Giulio Cesare), Louise Alder (Cleopatra), Beth Taylor (Cornelia), Paula Murrihy (Sesto), John Holiday (Tolomeo), Morgan Pearse (Achilla). The English Concert, Harry Bicket, conductor. Produced by Cal Performances, Zellerbach Hall, Berkeley, CA, 27 April 2025.
In recent posts on Handel, the music I've focused on was produced at moments of crisis—or at least significant upheaval—in his musical life: Acis and Galatea (1718) was composed at a time when feuding royals almost ended the viability of Italian opera in London; Messiah (1742) after the failure of his final opera, when he made a season-long relocation to Dublin to regroup; and Alceste (1750) for a masque whose production was abruptly cancelled, leaving the music in limbo.
But in 1724 when the 38-year-old Handel composed Giulio Cesare (Julius Caesar), he was at a peak of his artistic resources and musical inspiration. He had gathered superb artists into the Royal Academy of Music, his five-year-old opera company.
Francesco Bernardi, detto il Senesino, engraved by Elisha Kirkall after Joseph Goupy, 1727. Image source: National Portrait Gallery, London
The alto castrato Francesco Bernardi ("Senesino") joined the Academy in 1720. One of the greatest singers in the world, he would be surpassed only by Farinelli. He would create 17 roles in Handel operas, including the title roles in Floridante (1721), Ottone (1723),and Orlando (1733), as well as Andronico in Tamerlano (1724) and Bertarido in Rodelinda (1725). Of course, he sang the title role in Giulio Cesare.
In Cesare's Act I aria "Va tacito e nascosto" (Silently and stealthily), he recognizes that despite the Egyptian ruler Tolomeo's wish to appear as his ally, he is plotting to kill him; the aria compares Tolomeo to a hunter quietly stalking his prey. The aria as performed by Sarah Connolly (with Christophe Dumaux as Tolomeo and Christopher Maltman as Achilla) in the David McVicar production at Glyndebourne in 2005, accompanied by the Orchestra of the Age of Enlightenment conducted by William Christie:
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Va tacito e nascosto, Quand' avido è di preda, L'asuto Cacciator. Così chi è al mal disposto, Non brama, ch' alcun veda L'inganno del suo Cor. |
As crafty Huntsmen In Pursuit of Prey, Unseen, and hushed in silence, stalk along: So those whom Malice prompts to base Designs, Conceal from every Eye, Their dark Intent. [1] |
Francesca Cuzzoni onstage in Handel's Ottone, Flavio, or Giulio Cesare (1723-24). Image source: National Portrait Gallery, London.
The soprano Francesca Cuzzoni made her debut with the Royal Academy in 1723 and stayed for six seasons. She sang in every opera produced by the Academy during that time, creating the roles of Teofane (Ottone), Asteria (Tamerlano), and the title role in Rodelinda. She sang the role of Cleopatra in Giulio Cesare.
In Cleopatra's Act II aria "V'adoro, pupille" (Your charming eyes), she daringly declares her love for Cesare—but in disguise as the handmaiden "Lydia," so that she can protect herself in case Cesare doesn't return her feelings. (Whether at this stage those feelings are "love, lust, or just mutual ambition," as the Glyndebourne Encore website has it, remains to be seen.) The aria as performed by Magdalena Kožená (with Marijana Mijanovic as Cesare) accompanied by Les Musiciens du Louvre conducted by Marc Minkowski:
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V’adoro, pupille, saette d’amore, le vostre faville son grate nel sen. Pietose vi brama il mesto mio core, ch'ognora vi chiama l’amato suo ben. |
Your charming Eyes My ravish'd Soul adores, The thrilling Pain My Heart with Pleasure bears. When you with Pity look, My Sorrows cease; For you alone Can heal the Wounds you gave. |
Caricature of Margherita Durastanti by Antonio Zanetti, date unknown (possibly ca. 1709). Image source: Fondazione Giorgio Cini, Venezia
The mezzo-soprano Margherita Durastanti was recruited by Handel for the Academy in 1720. She had known Handel in Italy, where he had traveled as a 21-year-old in 1706 (she was perhaps two or three years older than the composer). In Rome, Durastanti created the role of Mary Magdalene in La resurrezione (The Resurrection, 1708), and, in Venice, the title role in Agrippina (1709). She made her London debut in the male title role of Radamisto (1720), the first opera produced by the Academy. In Giulio Cesare she appeared as Sesto, the son of the murdered Roman general (and Cesare's opponent) Pompey.
In the Act I aria "Cara speme" (Dearest hope), Sesto begins to hope that he may be able to revenge the murder of his father. The aria as performed by Lorraine Hunt, accompanied by the Philharmonia Baroque Orchestra conducted by Nicholas McGegan:
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Cara speme, questo core Tu cominci a lusingar; Par ch'il Ciel presti favore I miei torti a vendicar. |
Dearest Hope, you now begin To soothe my troubled Breast; And Heaven at length propitious seems, The injured to retrieve. |
Anastasia Robinson, engraved by John Faber Jr. after John Vanderbank, 1723. Image source: National Portrait Gallery, London
The contralto Anastasia Robinson had sung with Handel's opera company from 1714 to 1717. Her voice, originally a soprano judging by the music written for her, had deepened over the years. As I wrote in a previous post, "she created the role of Oriana, the heroine held captive by the sorceress Melissa, in Amadigi di Gaula (1715), and also appeared as Almirena, the heroine held captive by the sorceress Armida, in revivals of Rinaldo. She would sing with the Royal Academy from its first production, Radamisto, in which she created the role of Radamisto's wife Zenobia, the heroine held captive by the tyrant Tiridate, through Giulio Cesare, in which she created the role of Pompey's widow Cornelia, the heroine held captive by the tyrant Tolomeo." After the 1724 season, she retired from the stage to become Lady Peterborough.
In the Act I aria "Priva son d'ogni conforto" (Deprived of all comfort), Cornelia sings the first of several laments for the loss of her husband, murdered on the orders of Tolomeo. She is also sorrowing at her own situation: Tolomeo's prisoner, she is subject to his plans to forcibly marry her. Refusing to marry her husband's murderer would endanger her son, Sesto. The aria as performed by Beth Taylor in the David McVicar Glyndebourne production in 2024, accompanied by the Orchestra of the Age of Enlightenment conducted by Lawrence Cummings:
https://youtu.be/t2le5Y2N_58?t=6
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Priva son d'ogni conforto, e pur speme di morire per me misera non v'è. Il mio cor, da pene assorto, è già stanco di soffrir e morir si niega a me. |
In vain, alas! depriv'd of Comfort, I hope Relief from Death. My Heart, oppress'd with Sorrow, pants with painful Weight, yet I am deny'd the Quiet of the Grave. |
Three members of the cast in the semi-staged, concert-dress performance of Giulio Cesare brought to Zellerbach Hall in Berkeley on Sunday 27 April had appeared in McVicar's production at Glyndebourne: Louise Alder (Cleopatra, 2024), Beth Taylor (Cornelia, 2024), and Christophe Dumaux (here, Cesare; at Glyndebourne, Tolomeo in 2005, 2009, and 2018). As this cast suggests, the singing was at a high level, as was the playing of The English Concert under the experienced direction of conductor Harry Bicket.
Dumaux's countertenor has a bit of an edge. As Tolomeo at Glyndebourne, it suggested petulance and volatility; as Cesare in Berkeley, he deployed it to signal the character's martial command and firmness of purpose. Alder has a bright soprano; as Cleopatra she convincingly handled both the role's kittenish coloratura in the early scenes, and the emergence of deep emotion as the tide seems to turn against her and Cesare later in the opera. Beth Taylor's contralto, impressive as it is in the Glyndebourne clip above, is even richer in person.
In addition to the Glyndebourne veterans, in the remaining major roles the cast included Paula Murrihy as Sesto, countertenor John Holiday as Tolomeo, and baritone Morgan Pearse as Tolomeo's general Achilla. Murrihy's duet with Taylor at the close of the first act, "Son nata a lagrimar" (I was born to weep), was both ravishing and heart-wrenching.
Unfortunately the uncredited stage direction (perhaps by artistic director Bicket?) undermined the characters at almost every turn. Murrihy's Sesto is a case in point; for the first time I found the character's teenaged vacillation ultimately to induce eye rolls rather than emotional engagement. Holiday's Tolomeo lacked a sense of menace, and did not seem a credible threat to the imposing Cesare of Dumaux. The impact of Cleopatra's "V'adoro, pupille" was lessened by having Alder begin it from behind the orchestra, while Cesare sat in the front row of the audience; it was difficult to imagine him being overwhelmed by "Lydia's" beauty and sensuality at such a distance. When Pearse's Achilla threatened Cornelia, Taylor was directed to cower and grimace in fear, which diminished our sense of her character's nobility and regal dignity. And when Cesare is trapped by Tolomeo's henchmen in the palace, all of the other singers lined up at the back of the stage to sing the chorus "Mora, mora, Cesare mora!" (Death to Caesar!). While having named characters sing as a chorus in his operas was Handel's practice, in this scene the composer clearly expected them to sing unseen from the wings. Having all the singers troop out onstage made it seem as though each of their characters was calling for Cesare's death, which in the case of his allies such as Nireno (Meili Li), Cornelia and Sesto, made no sense at all.
Finally, deaths of characters in Baroque opera generally occur between scenes and offstage, and are reported afterwards to the other characters by a witness. In Giulio Cesare, Handel defied that convention by including not just one, but two onstage death scenes. In the Berkeley performance, in both cases the deaths took place downstage center, leaving the singers no alternative when the scene concluded but to sheepishly stand back up and walk offstage (and on Zellerbach's broad stage, that's a long walk). They returned, of course, for the final chorus, a moment that McVicar's Glyndebourne production handles much more cleverly.
Handel's superb music and the excellent vocal and instrumental performances overcame the distractions of the poor direction. However, for their next semi-staged opera production I hope that The English Concert hires a dedicated director to ensure that the singers' actions support, rather than undercut, their characters and the story.
Other posts in this series:
- A season of Handel operas, part 4: Ariodante
- A season of Handel operas, part 2: Alceste
- A season of Handel operas, part 1: Acis and Galatea
And a bonus post:
- Aria translations in this post are from the 1724 libretto by Nicola Haym.
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