ACT 1

A dark and sinister introduction to the Overture introduces a theme associated with the magician Trofonio, but the gloom is soon dispelled by a brilliant Haydnesque allegro.

SCENE 1 is set in a comfortable country house.  In a robust and fluid Trio [My beautiful daughters are both still unmarried], kindly Aristone is sympathetic to the marriage plans of his daughters Ofelia and Dori and wants only for their happiness.  He’s well aware that the girls are very different in spirit, but they have made sensible choices of boyfriends – Ofelia, who is happiest when she has a heavy tome of Greek philosophy in her hands, loves the sensible and caring Artemidoro; her sister Dori is a cheerful girl, more inclined to partying than studying, and she has found the perfect match in her lively boyfriend Plistene.  With plenty of colourful woodwind, the trio clearly anticipates Mozart’s Così fan tutte; the lively allegretto changes to a calming and prayerful andantino with organ-like orchestration[…with a father that we treasure, kindly heavens, see our pleasure and protect us to the end].  Confidence and certainty are established from the start.

Trumpets add a festive colour to a second brief and lively Trio which reaffirms the mood of the opening number: Aristone promises support to his daughters’ choices [I now am apprised of all that you mention, I see your intention, will do what I can], and they acknowledge their shared appreciation [There’s no better parent, there’s no finer man].

Dori goes out for fresh air, leaving Ofelia in a serene Aria [The fire of love and ardour burns with a quiet flame] to muse on her quiet and serious love-affair.  A trio of clarinets and bassoon establishes her love of study in an expressive and refined Andante; the lengthy instrumental introduction anticipates that to the Countess’ first aria in Figaro.  A powerfully contrasting allegro section warns of danger when passion reigns unchecked – if it opposes reason, sorrow and suffering ensue.  She is joined by Artemidoro, and they share their love of classical philosophy.

In a riotous and quirky Quartet [These delightful and happy embraces are the aces a lover employs] their scholarly quiet is shattered by Dori and Plistene who are singing and dancing, engaged in rehearsing amateur dramatics.

Aristone dismisses the girls in order to quiz the boys on their intentions.  In an appropriately lengthy and paternalistic Aria [Let us consider the source of a river: it can section in different directions], he explains how his daughters, although twins, can be so different in character.  The orchestral accompaniment evokes the flow and journey of a river.

Plistene and Dori tease each other about their marital expectations; in a varied and colourful Duet [In the average kind of marriage there is reason to be cheerful], their bickering gives way to love and Plistene, after a fair amount of hinting, proposes marriage.

SCENE 2 is set deep in a forest.  A dark cave or grotto with two entrances is guarded by the capricious wizard Trofonio.  In an Aria with Chorus [Unseen, invisible, spirits ineffable] he summons spirits, who are at first reluctant, to perform his magical experiments which can transform human personality.  The strikingly dark and imaginative D minor music is central to Salieri’s designation of the opera as being ‘di stile magico-buffo’, and has already appeared at the opening of the overture.  Salieri noted in a copy that this aria ‘is purely magic; and it seems to me that the music has the right character.  But for it to have effect the voice that sings it must be of great power, and dark.’ 

Once the spirits have been quelled into submission, Artemidoro enters seeking solitude and nature and carrying a copy of Plato’s Dialogues.  The music of his Aria [These shady woods provide me blessings abundant and smiling] beautifully evokes pastoral beauty and tranquillity; with warbling birdcalls on oboes and flutes it lies somewhere between Gluck’s depiction of the Elysian Fields in Orfeo and Beethoven’s Pastoral Symphony.  He reflects on how the tranquillity of nature nurtures his philosophical study.  He encounters Trofonio whose name is famed as an ancient sage, and so eagerly enters the cave in search of enlightenment. 

Meanwhile Plistene is also in the woods.  Despite his engagement, his Aria shows that he is in search of amorous distraction: In the woods they say are hiding nymphs incessantly providing playful laughter and distraction.  He’s also looking for Artemidoro, and so he rashly accepts Trofonio’s invitation to follow into the grotto.

Artemidoro emerges from the other side of the cave, and his nervous and energetic Accompanied Recitative and Arietta [Hurrah for the joy that enraptures my heart!] show that he is now quite transformed - he can no longer think of dusty philosophy and cares only for fun.  Salieri wrote that this music must be characterised by ‘unnatural forced cheerfulness, and must be played, sung and acted accordingly to produce a strong effect.’ Trofonio is delighted to observe the results of his experiment.

Next Plistene comes out of the cave, dazed and thoughtful, and his ponderous Accompanied Recitative expresses his horror at finding that someone (in fact Artemidoro) has rudely discarded a volume of Plato.   A remarkable Cavatina praises Plato[Teacher and leader, hear me!].  Here Salieri provides music of simple solemnity, accompanied by the stark sonorities of two cor anglais and bassoon: ‘everything must be performed in a tranquil, almost sombre style, but one that goes to the heart.’  Trofonio reflects that men of feeble merit will surely value truth which enlightens the spirit.

The brilliant extended Finale is one of emotional confusion and constantly changing textures, with a growing impetus and energy.  Ofelia is still musing on the quiet nature of love and friendship [Conversation is the pleasure which I treasure most of all] but is horrified by the rudeness and crudity of Artemidoro: she tries to forgive his behaviour, blaming it on the weather, but soon finds she cannot bear his company.  Next Dori and Plistene encounter each other [Who is Plistene to disobey me!], but his unprecedented immersion in Plato dismays her, and she also leaves in dismay.  Aristone [I am looking for my daughters] is confused to find the girls distressed by any proximity to their beloved fiancés, and is bewildered by all the entries and exits.  In the final scene, the boys make their objections: Aristone, your daughter has vexed me, runs away and avoids and rejects me.  All sing of their utter confusion: This transformation, this sudden switching has got me twitching, can no-one explain?  As in many eighteenth-century comic operas, the act ends in a sense of utter confusion.

ACT 2

In a flamboyant and often noisy Aria [If he gets you or upsets you, you could tame him or restrain him] Aristone tries to convince his daughters that they will in time be able change their boyfriends back to their own tastes.

Dori is unusually reflective and perhaps a little depressed, as we hear in her Aria with its melancholy opening and the distinctive colour of flute and bassoon: Having secured a lover, I’d not intended that madness so soon would have to end it.  In a contrasting passage she regains something of her vitality, reminding herself that she likes men who are facetious and amusing.

The boys remain confused by their fiancées’ coolness, and decide that only a further visit to Trofonio’s cave can provide explanation.  In a brief animated Duet [Would you go barging in with volition, without permission, isn’t that brash?] they argue noisily over etiquette – should they simply enter unannounced and uninvited?  Trofonio, visitors!  They enter.

Their shouting disturbs Trofonio, who is curious to see what happens next.  A powerfully surging Accompanied Recitative expresses Plistene’s relief as he appears outside and realises that he has been restored to his former jovial character [What’s happened?  I’m defenceless…].  He leaves to look for Artemidoro, not realising that he too is about to emerge from the cave, transformed back to sobriety and scholarship.  Artemidoro’s wistful Aria [A dream….  am I still dreaming?], one of the loveliest in the opera, again demonstrates Salieri’s lyricism and evocative use of the woodwind; it has been argued that this number has much in common with Mozart’s Un’aura amorosa in Così fan tutte, sung by the same tenor Vincenzo Calvesi four years later.

Trofonio celebrates his power in a richly-scored Cavatina [This enchanted habitation

will be praised with acclamation] which Salieri appears to have added as an afterthought – he described it as ‘a little energetic piece to break up the delicate things that surround it: it produces a nice chiaroscuro.’ The arrival of the girls causes him to break off suddenly, and he’s curious to see if his magic works on women.  Once he has calmed their fright, he elegantly entices them into the cave in a serene minuet-like Trio [So enter, lovely lady: my grotto is cool and shady], whose sound world again anticipates Così fan tutte.  This is the scene depicted in the charming title-page engraving of the 1785 printed score, which presumably records an actual performance at Laxenburg or Vienna.

In a scurrying allegro Trio Aristone, Artemidoro and Plistene are hunting for the girls who have disappeared: To help avoid a back-to-back collision, I have constructed a plan of precision. Their panic is delightfully conveyed, especially in the repeated and stuttered Go…go. ..go near the end (in the original, Qua…qua…qua).

Dori appears from the cave and is uncharacteristically taciturn when she meets Plistene. Ofelia emerges in a very different mood and her whimsical allegretto Aria La ra la lee quickly became the most popular number in the whole opera, especially as sung and danced by Nancy Storace: it remained one of Nancy’s party-pieces after she returned from Vienna to England.  Meeting Artemidoro, both are bewildered by each other’s character, and they bicker all the way through a busy Duet: That sudden, churlish pouting, that air of melancholia hardly will make me follow you.

Aristone finds his daughters, and is further mystified.  The boys are again repulsed, and Artemidoro suggests to Aristone that perhaps Trofonio might come up with an explanation.

The Finale begins with Aristone appropriately intoning his request at the cave’s entrance: Trofonio, Trofonio, philosopher, magus, I know it’s outrageous, but I’m all alone-i-o.  Both the unseen spirits and the wizard reply, and Trofonio is surprisingly happy to reveal the magic: If they enter there the main way but then do not leave the same way, then their characters are swapped.

Ofelia is still in a lively mood [A life is for living, not hiding away.  And my way of living’s to laugh every day!] and Dori remains philosophical [May the gods protect and save us].  Trofonio leads them into the cave whilst Aristone wisely waits outside.  The boys await the reappearance of the girls with bated breath.

In the closing sextet, Trofonio leads the girls out, now restored to normality.  Their experience within the cave has been enlightening:  Ofelia saw quite clearly forces of nature fashion austerely, whereas Dori saw nothing inside that grotto except a lot of what looked like cookware.  The couples make up, and Aristone continues to refuse entry into the cave.  The mortals decide it’s high time to get out of the woods and escape from Trofonio: Mustn’t stay, let’s get away!

There’s perhaps a fascinating musical discovery waiting to be made by a fortunate scholar.   On 26 September 1785 Das Wienerblättchen announced: ‘For the happy recovery of the favourite virtuosa Mme. Storace the Court Theatre poet Herr Abbate da Ponte has produced an Italian song of joy: Per la recuperata salute di Ophelia.  This has been set to music, to be sung at the pianoforte, by the three famous Kapellmeister Salieri, Mozart and Cornetti, and is for sale at the art establishment of Artaria Company on the Michaelsplatz at 17 kr’.  No copy of this celebratory cantata, For the recovered health of Ophelia, printed by the leading Viennese publishers Artaria, has ever been traced, although it is hard to credit that there is not one lurking hidden somewhere on a library shelf.  It was listed in Mozart’s catalogue as K477a.  A compositional collaboration between Salieri and Mozart, along with the librettist Lorenzo da Ponte (the third name, Cornetti, may be a pseudonym, possibly of Stephen Storace), is notable and suggests a rather different dynamic between the leading lights of Viennese music than is usually assumed.  But whose recovered health was being celebrated?

Earlier in 1785, Salieri’s La grotta di Trofonio was premièred, possibly first at the Emperor Joseph II’s country palace at Laxenburg a few miles south of Vienna and then publicly in town at the great Burgtheater on 12 October.  The ‘Ophelia’ of the cantata’s title is the opera’s delightful character, the bookworm daughter of Aristone.  At the première the rôle was sung by one of the most renowned operatic sopranos of her age, Anna (Nancy) Selina Storace, described by her contemporary the music historian Charles Burnay as ‘unrivalled, being an excellent actress as well as a masterly singer.’  Her ‘recovered health’ refers to her triumphant return to the stage after a traumatic loss of voice mid-opera (coupled perhaps with ill-health caused by her pregnancy) during the première of her brother Stephen’s Gli sposi malcontenti on 1 June 1785. 

The collaboration between Salieri and Da Ponte on this cantata may also indicate a patching-up of a bad relationship occasioned by the failure of an earlier opera Il ricco d’un giorno (1784) after which Salieri ‘swore that he would rather lose a hand than set another line’ of Da Ponte’s poetry.  The librettist for Trofonio therefore was Da Ponte’s major rival in Vienna, Giambattista Casti (1724-1803) whose Il Re Teodoro in Venezia had proved such a triumph in Vienna when set by Giovanni Paisiello.  Casti’s libretto of Trofonio, which he claimed was written ‘to mock the Devil, and the magical exorcisms practiced by sorcerers and charlatans, and the feigned paroxysms of wild-eyed fanatics and imposters’ was underway by February 1785.  Rehearsals began around May but were interrupted by Storace’s illness and perhaps the première was delayed as a result.

Aside from Nancy Storace, Casti and Salieri were able to gather an outstanding cast of Italian singers resident in the court opera company, and significantly several were employed again in 1786 for the première of another comic opera which, however, initially fared rather poorly – Mozart’s Le nozze di Figaro.  Trofonio was played by Francesco Benucci (later Figaro, as well as Leporello in Don Giovanni and Guglielmo in Così fan tutte) and Stefano Mandini sang Plistene (later Count Almaviva).  Celeste Coltellini, the daughter of the librettist who had written the text for Salieri’s  Armida, sang Dori – the Emperor Joseph II wrote that ‘her voice is not as strong or as pleasant as Storace’s, her acting is overdone, but one cannot deny that she brings out different characters quite well’ (later Paisiello created for her the triumphant title-role in Nina).  Two other leading male singers completed the cast: Francesco Bussani (Aristone) went on to create the Commendatore in Don Giovanni and Don Alfonso in Così, and the tenor Vincenzo Calvesi (Artemidoro) was the first Ferrando.  Nancy Storace, the darling not only of the Viennese public but of the Emperor went on to sing the first Susanna in Figaro.  The Viennese première of Trofonio was a runaway success, and was followed by a remarkable run of twenty-five further performances in Vienna over the next two years.  Count Karl Zinzendorf, politician, opera-goer and indefatigable diarist, who found some complaint in the tedium of the scenes, nevertheless recorded his favourable opinion of ‘the charming music, the extraordinary costumes, Storace with her philosopher’s mantle was pretty and Coltellini was marvelous in her role.’

All this makes clear the significant chronological sequence: Salieri’s Trofonio preceded Mozart’s Figaro (1786), Don Giovanni (1787) and Così fan tutte (1790).  Yet when listening to the structures of arias and ensembles, the two extraordinarily exciting finales, the ability to characterise both introspection and craziness and the superbly colourful orchestration with its extensive use of woodwind (a ploy undoubtedly to enthuse the Emperor), we have to acknowledge that Salieri created here a work of rare quality, from which Mozart was able to profit extensively and imitate to his own ends.  The combination of the demonic and the superficial, so clearly stated in Salieri’s overture, was to be recreated by Mozart in Don Giovanni and there can be little doubt that the symmetrical structure with two pairs of lovers was to influence Da Ponte when he wrote Così and Mozart when he composed it.  In fact Da Ponte’s libretto of Così was first offered to Salieri (the two had patched up their disagreement) who began composing the opening two trios before giving up on it in a fit of creative despair. 

The exhilarating variety of Salieri’s score is perhaps necessary to divert attention away from a plot of predictable simplicity: Count Zinzendorf complained that ‘the theme is without imagination… always the garden, always the grotto, always the transmutations.’  Some may of course find this refreshing after the convoluted Goldonian plots so beloved by librettists of comedy in the later eighteenth century, with their multiple intrigues, deceits and disguises, Coltellini’s La finta semplice (set by the youthful Mozart and performed at Bampton in 2013) being a prime example.  Casti, who became a sharp and cynical political commentator, liberally graced his text with classical references, supported by erudite footnotes, which undoubtedly appealed to the scholarly Salieri and were perhaps intended to elevate the tone and status of opera buffa.  Its ancient Greek setting and references to pagan philosophy may have derived from Paisiello’s successful Socrate immaginario.  The Salieri scholar John A Rice has pointed out that the ‘normal emotional dynamics of opera buffa – jealousy, infatuation, seduction, concerns about money and social status – are largely absent.’  All that happens is that the romantic certainties of two young couples are disrupted by their accidental encounter with a playfully demonic meddler, the wizard-philosopher Trofonio, who inhabits a cave deep in a forest.  This was after all the period when wealthy landowners added romantic frisson to their landscape estates by creating ornamental grottos, and populating them with professional ‘hermits’, like theme-park actors.  Perhaps in the delightful forested estate at Laxenburg, visitors of the Emperor might have encountered an apparently real-life Trofonio. 

La grotta di Trofonio was written in the mid-phase of an illustrious operatic career which saw the creation of perhaps 41 operas.  As a pupil of Florian Leopold Gassmann and a protégé of Gluck, Salieri was a dominant figure in European opera, with major triumphs in Vienna, Paris and Milan, where his L’Europa riconosciuta inaugurated La Scala opera house in 1778.  He worked across the whole range of contemporary operatic genres: elevated Italian opera seria, grand French tragédie lyrique in the manner of Gluck, German Singspiel and Italian opera buffa.  Uneven he may have been, but Salieri was a composer of enormous courage and imagination, constantly pushing at the boundaries of his art and in many ways going well beyond his more conventional Italian contemporaries Cimarosa and Paisiello.  He was obsessive about refining and improving his works.  He cared deeply about the dramatic impact of his works on stage and the value of the text, and worked closely with his librettists – John A Rice has suggested that his close supervision of the inexperienced Da Ponte ‘probably contributed to the strength of the librettos that Da Ponte later wrote for Mozart.’  But ultimately he believed in the spiritual enlightenment which music could provide (‘Music, divine imitation of nature, how I thank you’) and it is characteristic that he entitled a work written in 1786 for Joseph II, again with a libretto by Casti (and programmed the same evening as Mozart’s Der Schauspieldirektor), Prima la musica e poi le parole (First the music and then the words).

Trofonio was one of his greatest successes and there were around 30 different productions across Europe within about 10 years.  Typical of travelling opera in the eighteenth century, the score went through many modifications to suit local singers, resources and tastes.  In Paris in 1790 in a performance including Stefano Mandini from the original cast, it was given to great acclaim, although with added arias composed by Cherubini.  In London, where Nancy continued to perform (and dance) her ‘La ra la ra from Act 2 on many occasions, the opera was performed at Drury Lane in 1791 under Stephen Storace’s musical direction as The Cave of Trophonius.  But the music was a pastiche, mostly by Storace with interpolations by Attwood and Paisiello, and may have included nothing from Salieri’s score: it was not a success, partly because of the thin plot.  Although Rossini is reputed to have hummed tunes from the work, it is not surprising, as with most eighteenth-century operas, that it disappeared from the stage in the new century. 

The curious legend of Trophonios is recounted with intriguing variations and discrepancies across several classical sources, from Herodotus to Pausanius.  Although some accounts call him mortal and a hero, a son of King Erginus of Orchomenus, he seems to have existed also on the fringes of divinity, a possible son of Apollo.  Apollo’s Temple at Delphi was reputed to have been built by him and his brother, but this act of piety did not prevent Trophonios being swallowed up by the earth as punishment for theft from the Treasury of Hyrieus.

Pausanius in his Description of Greece gives the fullest account of a temple and oracle of Trophonios at Lebadeia, Boiotia, complete with a statue by Praxiteles. Here there grew up a thriving oracular cult, associated with a deep fissure in the earth, the hidden whereabouts of which having been originally revealed by a flight of bees.  Consultation of Trofonio’s oracle was not for the feint-hearted.  Ritual river bathing and multiple sacrifices, especially of rams, constituted a lengthy preparation.  Before the descent the pious but determined enquirer, dressed in a white linen tunic, needed to drink the water of Lethe (for forgetfulness of the past) and water of Mnemosyne (for future memory of the oracle).   Descent into the chasm was no easy matter, although a narrow ladder was allowed in the underground vestibule – Pausanius suggests that the entry was very tight and one effectively squeezed and then possibly fell in, but it was important to hold on to an offering of honey-cakes to appease the serpents who were likely to assail one during the descent.  Ascent might be by the same opening (but emerging feet first) or through another opening some way off.  Since the enquirer was likely to be paralysed by fear, recording the outcome of the oracle was a delicate matter, but it was obligatory to record it in full on a tablet to be preserved at the sanctuary.  In writing his libretto, Casti was likely to have been thinking of the Life of Apollonius of Tyana by Philostratus: Apollonius, a prophet and philosopher declared “I wish to descend into the cave in the interests of philosophy”.  His consultation lasted longer than any other, a full seven days, and he emerged some way distant in Aulis (perhaps the origin of the story of the grotto with two entrances), clutching a volume of the tenets of Pythagoras.

Where would Mozart be without Salieri? These thoughts passed through my mind as I watched Bampton Opera’s performance of the latter’s La Grotta di Tronfonio. Composed in 1785 it pre-dates Figaro, Così, Don Giovanni and The Magic Flute, and one can’t help feeling that the younger composer must have drawn inspiration from Salieri’s story line and music. In his opera characters embark on a journey involving transformations which ultimately lead them to a better understanding of themselves. Does this sound familiar?

We know that there was a performance of an opera entitled The Cave of Trophonius in London in 1791 but, according to Jeremy Gray, most of the music was by Stephen Storace, whose sister Nancy was one of the leading singers of the time. So this performance at Bampton could well be the first ever UK performance of the Salieri version; given its vitality and melodic invention one wonders why we in Britain have had to wait so long to hear it.

The opera starts so promisingly. James Harrison as Aristone is everything a good father should be: he is delighted with the prospect of his twin daughters’ forthcoming marriages, approves of their fiancés and considers each couple is well suited. Ofelia is a blue-stocking and portrayed by the oh-so-serious Ukrainian mezzo Anna Starushkevych. Her lover Artemidoro is played by the bookish Christopher Turner who likes nothing better than to engage in philosophical discussion. At the other end of the spectrum is the fun-loving daughter Dori played with plenty of Irish spirit by Aolfe O’Sullivan. Her suitor Plistene, sung by Nicholas Merryweather, is a bit of a lad who bounds on to the stage and makes fun of his more serious contemporaries.

But just as they are about to ride off into the sunset to live happily ever after the young men encounter a magician in the woods who lives not in a cave as such,  but in a Tardis straight from an episode of Dr Who. Indeed, Matthew Stiff as Trofonio assumes the guise of the good doctor and demonstrates how by passing in through one door of the police box and out the other a person can be completely transformed.  Enter Artemidoro communing with nature who in his search of enlightenment enters the Tardis, at the magician’s behest, only to emerge through the other door as a 1960s-style hippy.  Meanwhile Plistene is strolling though the countryside in search not of knowledge, but of nymphs to play around with; he too accepts Trofonio’s invitation to enter the Tardis only to emerge as a studious chap in a tie and green cardigan who praises Plato. The total changes in character unnerve the girls who disown their lovers –  to the consternation of the hitherto unflappable Aristone.

More transformations occur in the final act when Tronfonio decides to find out if his magical powers apply to women. Ofelia emerges from the Tardis as a party-going girl in a lurid orange miniskirt to sing the catchy aria ‘La ra la lee’ (which Nancy Storace made famous in the late eighteenth century) and insists that ‘Life is for living, not hiding away’.  Dori turns into even more of a frump than her sister had been. Normality returns by the end of the opera, but lessons are certainly learned along the way.

I found Trofonio’s Cave a revelation, and not only because of the zany production  and the witty modern translation which fitted the music so perfectly.  The music is magnificent with not a duff aria, duet or trio during the whole evening. The quintets and sextets which constitute the finales seemed as good and imaginatively thought out as any in The Marriage of Figaro and Don Giovanni. Moreover all the singers have their place in the limelight, as it were, starting with Ofelia’s serene aria ‘The fire of Love’  and Aristone’s philosophical explanation of why his daughters are so different in character – ‘Let us consider the source of a river’. Plistene’s cavatina praising Plato ‘Teacher and leader, hear me ‘ gave the audience a chance to hear Nicholas Merryweather’s fine baritone voice. Matthew Stiff is an excellent Trofonio, especially when rejoicing in his magic powers in the cavatina ‘This enchanted habitation will be praised with acclamation’ – a slightly Gilbert and Sullivanesque touch here, perhaps?

There is real anxiety in Dori’s reaction to Plistine’s change of character ‘Having secured a lover, I’d not intended that madness so soon would have to end it’. Christopher Turner’s’ relief was palpable in Artemidoro’s aria ‘A dream … am I still dreaming’  as he is changed back into the scholar he used to be – though I have to admit I preferred his antics as a hippy complete with shades, which were a real hoot.  (Singer wishing to showcase their talents should note what a splendid opportunity Salieri offers four of the cast to play two very different characters.)  This is comic opera, but the people in it are not cardboard cut-outs;  all six singers made their roles eminently believable as they faced up to a succession of crises.

I have never attended an open air opera performance before and was rather concerned that the audience would not be able to hear the words especially in a breeze. However, the sound was not a problem thanks to a large hedge behind the stage and the Deanery building behind the audience which reflected the sound.  Also each of the singers projected their voices  and articulated the words well; the singing was uniformly excellent.  I sympathised with the plight of the conductor Paul Wingfield who had to conduct his orchestra in a tent with his back to the stage but there were no missed entries and the whole musical effect could not be faulted. Mr Wingield has learned his trade on the Jette Parker Young Artists scheme and on the strength of his endeavours at Bampton, Covent Garden should soon be calling on him to do them a few favours in their main house.

This is Bampton Classical Opera’s 23^rd season and the instigators Jeremy Gray and Gilly French deserve our hearty congratulations for bringing neglected, but worthy, operas of the past to the attention of the public and making such a success of them. I only wish that other opera companies in the country would show a greater sense of adventure and give Carmen, Tosca, Don Giovanni and La Traviata a rest for a few years. Having heard one Salieri opera, I’d like to hear some more.

Magical transformations are a commonplace of opera. We see our heroes turned into animals, trees, statues; witness wild beasts turned suddenly gentle and even the dead brought back to life, with scarcely a raised eyebrow. But opera’s greatest metamorphosis — and one still less remarked upon — is the annual British phenomenon of country house opera.

Auditoriums are conjured up in fields and gardens, ruins filled with light and life, and rural silence is exchanged for cosmopolitan croonings and tunings. With little more than a generator and a couple of portaloos, companies like Longborough, Bampton, Iford and Garsington serve up serious music season after season, taking risks the major metropolitan houses could never contemplate. It’s an artistic sleight of hand we’re much too apt to take for granted; too distracted, perhaps, by the black-tie trappings and social rigmarole that are its smoke and mirrors.

Specialising in neglected classical repertoire, Oxfordshire’s Bampton Opera is pretty much guaranteed to produce a show you won’t have seen before — think Paisiello and Philidor as well as lesser-known Haydn and Handel. Quality control is assured by the impeccable instincts of artistic directors Gilly French and Jeremy Gray, who have gained the trust of their audiences over more than 20 years of smart choices and even smarter stagings.

What’s unusual about Bampton, though, is the friction it maintains between its growing ambition (this year’s production will tour both to Westonbirt and London) and its total lack of pretension. The orchestra mixes professionals with performing friends of Bampton who have been with the company since its start in 1993, while evening dress is shunned in favour of whatever’s warmest and most comfortable. The results are giddily exciting, propelled by wit, charm and bags of joy. 

Don’t believe everything you hear in Amadeus; there’s a great deal more to Salieri than a jealous rival to Mozart, as Bampton’s La grotta di Trofonio (Trofonio’s Cave) makes clear. A simple conceit sees two very different sisters and their equally contrasting lovers exchange personalities in the wizard Trofonio’s magic cave. Romantic chaos and comedy ensue before a second visit sets all to rights. If Salieri’s score lacks the intricate finales of Mozart’s later Da Ponte operas, it pulls ahead in the fluidity of its drama, drifting between arias and ensembles (duets and trios a particular highlight) with easy informality. Orchestral colours are painted with care, and melodies tug at the ear — just listen to Dori’s exquisite ‘Un bocconcin d’amante’.

Jeremy Gray’s production starts out as just a pretty period piece — all Gibson Girl frocks and coy glances — but grows into something altogether more anachronistic and anarchic. Gray and French’s English libretto tempers irreverence with real affection, pitching this gossamer comedy just right for a contemporary audience, and giving their young cast plenty to work with.

It’s hard to take your eyes off Nicholas Merryweather’s blissfully funny Plistene (beautiful singing a bonus), but Aoife O’Sullivan’s Dori always make it worthwhile, sparring vigorously with Anna Starushkevych’s vocally slightly uneven Ofelia. Tenor Christopher Turner does double duty as earnest romantic lead and outlandish comedy turn, supported by the impish Matthew Stiff as Trofonio himself. Doing the impossible and holding it all together stylishly despite outdoor issues of acoustics and sightlines, conductor Paul Wingfield gives loving attention to Salieri’s orchestral details, shaping a performance that, on opening night, survived set collapses, gusty winds and snapped strings with barely a musical scratch.

“We can’t do Aida here: it’s difficult to get the elephants,” Jeremy Gray apologises to his audience, explaining why Bampton Classical Opera’s 23rd summer production isn’t a familiar box-office classic, but is instead a rare small-scale work by Salieri. Not just rare: La grotta di Trofonio is one of nine Bampton adventures into opera’s forgotten archives which has probably resulted in a UK première (La grotta’s only other recorded London performance, in 1791, seems to have been a pasticcio, setting Casti’s libretto to music by a selection of other composers than Salieri). Sometimes, of course, obscurity is the kindest editor, but this brisk and vibrant comedy is a hidden masterpiece, combining the perils of courtship with the 18th century’s burgeoning taste for crackpot science.

Aristone has twin daughters, bookish Ofelia and fun-loving Dori. Each has found her ideal suitor: Ofelia shyly loves young philosopher Artemidoro, Dori is engaged to riotous Plistene. Aristone smiles on each match, and all seems perfect until the boys wander through the philosopher Trofonio’s cave in the woods – and emerge with their personalities swapped. The fiancées are distraught to find the philosopher dancing, the cad lost in dusty books: but soon it is the boys’ turn for disappointment, as they return to their former selves only to discover that Trofonio has now worked his magic on their girls... Cue much confusion, not least from an increasingly beleaguered Aristone, before a deeply satistfying quintet of reconciliation pronounces order, and love, is restored.

Reviving Salieri’s lost gem has become a personal passion for director and designer Jeremy Gray. His absolute commitment to the score, the work and this much-maligned composer shines out in Bampton’s engaging production, sung in exceptionally clear English by a talented cast. Casti’s original libretto has been deftly translated by Gilly French and Jeremy Gray, capturing much of the witty sensibility and rhythmic textures of 18th century Italian with its robustly patterned rhyme and piquant vocabulary. Staging is simple, but ambitious: we even have a revolve, and characters creatively use the garden in which we sit. Gray’s Edwardian setting, first a library, next a summer garden with bunting and lace tablecloths, recalls The Importance of Being Earnest, suiting Casti’s conflicting and quarrelsome love dynamics admirably, while Trofonio’s cave arrives in a brilliant modern incarnation which I won’t spoil for you: suffice it to say that you may be transported with delight. The Orchestra of Bampton Classical Opera, energetically conducted by Paul Wingfield, creates a luxurious sound, full of bright tension despite the evening breezes; even when a particularly bumptious zephyr decides to blow a section of scenery flat, professional execution stays serene.

James Harrison is a warm-voiced and well-acted Aristone, showing a father’s bewildered concern for his daughters (and their hopeful spouses) as all the young people in his life seem to go mad, and enjoying every note of Salieri’s flowing “River” aria as he describes his wildly different daughters. Aoife O’Sullivan is charming as Dori, more than a slight air of Elizabeth Bennet in her merry dark eyes and witty retorts, her singing fresh, clear and appealing throughout and her mournful soliloquy despairing at Plistene’s change truly beautiful. Anna Starushkevych is lovely as Plato obsessive Ofelia, drawing a demure, uptight personality with plenty of inner intensity to exploit in her later transformation. Starushkevych’s creamy soprano exhibits great control, with wonderfully soft transitions between notes; her sometimes accented English remains articulate. The gentle sisterly rivalry, and their warm bond with their father, comes across well from both sopranos.

Christopher Turner makes an adorable Artemidoro, giving “These shady woods” wonderful ornamentation as he conveys the intense, innocent joy of a philosopher in nature. Artemidoro’s early awkwardness with Ofelia contrasts dramatically with his transformed personality, vibrantly at ease with the world and the universe, to the horror of all his friends. Naturally comic, with excellent timing and unflappable stagecraft, Nicholas Merryweather is delightful and clear-voiced as both versions of Plistene, whether the loudly-tweed-suited party boy or the withdrawn, Albert-Herring-like conformist in cardigan and tie. Matthew Stiff makes the lovable rogue philosopher Trofonio constantly compelling with his rich, dexterous bass. Stiff balances seriousness with quirky humour, giving us a man truly outside time and space.

In 1795, just a year before Mozart introduced Le nozze di Figaro to an unsuspecting (and, at first, unappreciative) world, Salieri produced La grotta di Trofonio for Emperor Joseph II and Vienna at large, receiving a rapturous international response: with 26 performances in its first run alone (Figaro received only nine!), within a decade Salieri’s romantic magical-buffo fairytale had been created in about 30 separate productions across Europe. Posterity may have reversed their positions, but Bampton Classical Opera’s joyful and melodious account of La grotta di Trofonio shows us Salieri can absolutely rival Mozart in wit, charm and creativity: and his music, brimming with hummable melodies, certainly sounds fabulous enough for any Emperor’s ear.

Aristone’s two daughters – the bookish Ofelia and the boisterous Dori – are due to wed, respectively, the pensive Artimidoro and the playful Plistene.  But the meddling of a mysterious master-of-ceremonies in a magical woodland cave switches the dispositions of first the men, then the women.  The question is whether, despite their personality changes, the partners will remain true to their first loves.

Sounds familiar?  But this is not Così fan tutte, or A Midsummer Night’s Dream; rather Salieri’s La grotta di Trofonio, first staged at Vienna’s Burgtheater in 1785 (shortly before Le nozze di Figaro was first performed there), with a libretto by Giambattista Casti.

This, the first UK staging in modern times, was robust and inventive: a ‘Downton meets the Doctor’ scenario (fitting, as Bampton doubles as the village of Downton for the television series) which balanced visual wit and musical accomplishment.  We began in a post-Edwardian library – think Classical columns, philosophical tomes, bodices and boaters – but as if to warn us that all was not as it seemed, a false bookshelf concealed Aristone’s gin store.

The director-designer Jeremy Gray had decided that transformation would be accompanied by time travel, and the bookcase swiveled to reveal a blue 1960s police box from which materialized a Tom Baker lookalike (long woolen scarf, scruffy blue frockcoat and a fondness for jelly babies), a slightly down-at-heel Edwardian gentleman turned eccentric apothecary of the emotions.  Hence, subject to Trofonio’s machinations, Artemidoro emerged from the Tardis sporting a hippie headband and flares, flamboyantly strumming air-guitar; and a flash of Ofelia’s knee-high white boots preceded her metamorphosis from demure maiden to 1960s wild-child in thigh-high A-line shift dress (costumes by Vikki Medhurst).

Outlandishness was tempered with sincerity.  Arias of exquisite melodic refinement offered genuine sentiment while the wealth of duets and ensembles injected dramatic pace and variety.  Nicholas Merryweather was a strong presence as the am-dram-loving Plistene, using the text well (a droll translation by Gilly French); later, swapping his dashing boater for buttoned-up knitwear, hais baritone was refreshingly clean-sounding.  Christopher Turner had no difficulty with the challenges of Artemidoro’s tenor arias: the evenness of tone and colour was impressive in his early philosophical reflections and even when he was transformed by bandana and beads his vocal line remained seamless.

Aoife O’Sullivan had fun as the convivial Dori and relished her makeover as a fusty frump; her soprano melded winningly with Anna Starushkevych’s Ofelia in the opening trio and she was technically assured throughout, firmly in control of vocal nuance and expression.  Starushkevych’s mezzo is growing in richness, depth and allure.  Particularly impressive was her act 2 duet with Artemidoro: her Ofelia was now a high-spirited extrovert with a penchant for cigarettes and rock-and-roll, and she mastered the phrasing of both her long melodies and her frequent short interjections – with Ofelia’s new-found loquaciousness, she dominated the dull Artemidoro.  Her stage movements were confident and alert.  Triona Adams (assistant director) put in a witty turn as a non-singing, put-upon maid who in the closing moments accepted Trofonio’s invitation into the time machine.

As the debonair Aristone, the baritone James Harrison demonstrated an excellent eye for comic detail.  The bass Matthew Stiff did not quite have the vocal weight to convey Trofonio’s menacing authority but his diction in the recitative was crisp and his tone seductively lyrical.

The conductor Paul Wingfield showed good judgement in supporting the singers and allowed for moments of reflection within the prevailing comic confusion.  The Orchestra of Bampton Classical Opera found vivid colours: the lovely aria-accompaniments for woodwind carried beautifully, and at the keyboard Marek Ruszczynski accompanied the secco recitative with a welcome succinctness.  Bampton’s habit of delving into the 18^th-century operatic grotto invariably unearths treasures that are both magical and memorable.  This was one of their best.

Based in a lovely Oxfordshire garden and travelling out to various rural outposts during the summer, Bampton Classical Opera is famed for taking risks, offering repertoire you would otherwise probably never see.  This summer, Bampton's founders and artistic directors, husband-and-wife team Jeremy Gray and Gilly French, served up a real winner: Salieri's La grotta di Trofonio.  The opera was a huge triumph for Salieri and with its comic pertness, its role-swapping and fabulous ensembles, it patently influenced Mozart's Così fan tutte.

The bizarre story of La grotta di Trofonio suited Bampton's well-known stage humour perfectly, and for once baritone Nicholas Merryweather was cast as the romantic lead (Plistene) rather than the comic buffoon.  In the title role, it was Matthew Stiff that presided over a typically bizarre magic cave (a Dr Who-style Tardis), and inhabited the role infinitely better than the Trofonius I saw in Lausanne a decade ago.  In the 1785 premiere, Salieri's wizard was the baritone Francesco Bennuci, Mozart's Figaro, Leporello and Guglielmo.

The spectacular winner of Bampton's 2014 Young Singers' Competition, Ukranian soprano Anna Starushkevych, was matched for comic skills by Irish soprano Aoife O'Sullivan, a glorious Bampton regular.  Both produced singing as well as acting to die for, oozing character and especially delicious when paired.  Artemidoro, Plistene's chum, was appealing sung by young tenor Christopher Turner.

This was undoubtedly one of the tightest and overall the most polished of Bampton's casts that I've witnessed, with a hoot of a production to match.

This delightful evening incidentally offered a salutary reminder that Mozart didn’t have quite the originality that is ordinarily attributed to him: other composers in Vienna were also ploughing his furrow, albeit without the force of his genius.

La Grotta di Trofonio is a comic opera by Antonio Salieri – a name blackened by legend and Peter Shaffer’s Amadeus, falsely representing him as Mozart’s envious nemesis. The evidence actually suggests that their relations were largely cordial, and governed by professional emulation rather than personal jealousy.

And in this case, it is Mozart who seems to have learnt from Salieri: first performed in 1785, the latter’s La Grotta di Trofonio, ‘Trofonio’s Cave’, was a big hit of a sort that Mozart always craved, and although its influence on Così fan tutte (1789) may be undocumented, it is palpable to the point of plagiarism.

The story is silly. Two sisters, one fun-loving and one bluestocking serious, are happily matched to two youths of similarly contrasting temperaments. But when the latter visit a magic cave inhabited by a wizard, they undergo personality transformations which leaves the young ladies aghast.

The farce develops without depth or complexity, but as well as pre-figuring Così’s plot, it heralds some of its musical elements too – notably its long and vivacious finales, a trio in the manner of ‘Soave sia il vento’ and a tenor aria which sounds strikingly like ‘Un’ aura amorosa’.  

The pace is swift and the mood playful, enlivened by instrumentation rich in woodwind. Salieri may lack Mozart’s mastery of harmony or his ability to enrich emotion and pull at the heartstrings, but he shares his language and adherence to conventions. The result is charming. 

Bampton Classical Opera brought their open-air summer production of this piece (never previously performed in Britain) to St John’s Smith Square and gave an enthusiastic audience much pleasure. Wittily translated into English, it was given a light-touch staging by Jeremy Gray that pitched camp somewhere between Jane Austen and P G Wodehouse territory, with the magic cave represented as Dr Who’s Tardis phone box.  

Paul Wingfield conducted the chamber orchestra Chroma with panache, and a young cast was fresh and vigorous throughout, even though one of its members, Anna Starushkevych had fallen foul of visa problems in the Ukraine and been replaced at very short notice by an off-stage singer Catherine Backhouse and on-stage actor Marieke Bernard-Berkel – both of them excellent.

Antonio Salieri. Mozart’s nemesis – wrong. Beethoven’s teacher – right. Unjustly neglected in his own right – maybe. Bampton Opera have put some flesh on the bones of his reputation with an English-language production of La grotto di Trifonio, first performed in Vienna, October 1785. They have done Salieri proud: we can see for ourselves why he is who he is.

He wrote a later operatic entertainment whose title encapsulates the tension at the heart of opera: First the music, and then the words. So, first the music. It’s heady stuff. Richly chromatic, sumptuously orchestrated, easing in and out of dissonance with the same mastery of craft that he uses to blend horns and bassoons on the composer’s palette, or accompany a lovely tenor aria with a bass running gently beneath tweets and trills from soft flutes that later turn up in the slow movement of Beethoven’s Pastoral Symphony. Paul Wingfield’s direction of the Chroma Ensemble was fleet and well-pointed, keeping the trumpets down and giving free rein to some fine continuo playing from Marek Ruszczynski.

Then the words. The plot is a calculated comedy of confused identities, stuffed with popular tropes and archetypes to hit the operatic jackpot of the day. Two sisters, one serious, one frivolous? Check. Both in couples, split by misunderstanding? Check. A magus-figure of outlandish power and uncertain motives? Check. Around this time a "Let’s make an opera" handbook was written in which Gottlieb Stephanie, librettist to Mozart for Die Entführung aus dem Serail, passed on his wisdom to aspiring librettists and composers. Though Salieri and his librettist Giambattista Casti were too experienced to need Stephanie’s help, it’s as if they studied every word and then wrote Trifonio’s Cave, with arias, duets and ensembles all present and correct. More to the point, it seems impossible that Mozart and da Ponte didn’t sit in the Burgtheater in 1785 to watch, listen and learn. Così fan tutte was first staged there five years later.

The translation is the work of the Bampton Opera’s artistic directors, Gilly French and Jeremy Gray, made with the experience of staging the UK premiere of Salieri’s Falstaff in 2003, and many other classical-era rarities since then. It’s as quick and witty as Jeremy Sams’ work for ENO, and no less susceptible to the kind of cognitive dissonance that arises from an 18^th-century plot, updated in Gray’s own staging to a Coward-era setting of tea-dresses and tweed, in which a character can exclaim “Alas and alack” one moment, followed hard by “He’s just a charlatan, a nutcase”, like the waterbottle on the mantelpiece in Downton. At least, thanks to superb diction from all the singers, every word came through, and without the aid of surtitles.

That character is Aristone, the sisters’ father, and James Harrison made the best of his blustery aria to open the second act. The Fiordiligi-prototype is Ofelia, sung earlier in the summer by Anna Starushkevych, but visa problems prevented her from rejoining the company for this performance at St John’s Smith Square; she was bravely replaced onstage by the assistant stage manager, Marieke Bernard-Berkel, and the part fearlessly sung from the wings by Catherine Backhouse.

Ofelia’s sister is Dori (da Ponte could have tried harder there), who may not have Ofelia’s vocal pyrotechnics but Aoife O’Sullivan stole the show nonetheless, with good comic timing and a warmly poised lyric soprano. Before venturing into his cave (cue more smutty translation), they were joined by Trofonio (Matthew Stiff) for the score’s “Soave s’il vento” moment: the part has Commendatore-like D minor pronouncement, and Matthew Stiff had the required gravity in every sense. As Ofelia’s fiancé Artemidoro, Christopher Turner made a convincing transformation from heroic oaf back to ardent philosopher, trading smart banter with his fellow-suitor Nicholas Merryweather.

The evening flew by but, if anything, the familiarity it afforded with the material and context of da Ponte and Mozart’s partnership only increased my appreciation of their originality. Salieri’s vocal lines can be pretty adventurous, but they are pretty all-the-same. Where he was content with sweet harmony in the pit and confusion on stage, Mozart/da Ponte fused the two. Trofonio’s Cave is six characters in search of a drama; Così is where they find it.