Casa de la Moneda & Torre de la Plata: Figaro's Gold
Why is it significant?
Step through the old gateway into the lanes of the Casa de la Moneda, Seville's royal mint. Today its courtyards hold flats, offices and the odd café table, but a few steps away, on Calle Santander, a squat eight-sided tower of rough stone and brick hides among the buildings.
Key Facts
| Place | Casa de la Moneda & Torre de la Plata: Figaro's Gold |
|---|---|
| Address | Calle Casa de la Moneda, 41001 Sevilla, Spain |
| Geo Coordinates | 37.38280, -5.99460 |
| Part of Walk | Opera City: Carmen, Figaro and Don Juan in Seville's Arenal |
| Generated | Generated |
Step through the old gateway into the lanes of the Casa de la Moneda, Seville's royal mint. Today its courtyards hold flats, offices and the odd café table, but a few steps away, on Calle Santander, a squat eight-sided tower of rough stone and brick hides among the buildings. That is the Torre de la Plata, the Silver Tower.
The tower is far older than the mint. It was built by the Almohads, around eight hundred years ago, as part of the wall that ran from the Torre del Oro by the river up to the Alcázar. A Gold Tower on the water and a Silver Tower behind it... the names came later, and nobody is entirely sure why. The story goes that precious metal was once stored inside, but the names may simply be a play on the shine of the walls.
What is certain is the mint. From the sixteenth century, gold and silver from Mexico and Peru were unloaded on the river bank and carried here to be weighed, melted and struck into coins, among them the famous pieces of eight. Much of that silver had been dug out of the mountain of Potosí by indigenous workers under forced labour. Seville's wealth jingled, but it had a terrible echo.
Which brings us to Figaro. In Rossini's Barber of Seville, Count Almaviva needs Figaro's help to win Rosina, and Figaro is a man of many talents but one true motive. When the Count promises him gold, the barber bursts into a duet about the very idea of that metal, all-powerful and marvellous, which sets his brain erupting like a volcano. Rossini's Seville runs on money... perhaps the most realistic thing in the whole opera.
And the first Count Almaviva was a Sevillian. At the Rome premiere in 1816 the role was sung by the tenor Manuel García, born in Seville in 1775. That first night was a famous fiasco, and legend says a guitar string snapped and a cat wandered onto the stage. García's daughters, Maria Malibran and Pauline Viardot, became two of the greatest singers of their century. Now walk north across Calle Santander to Calle Temprado and a white church covered in blue tiles.