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| King's as we approached - the BBC vans outside |
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| Oh, aren't we Oscar attenders a wonderful lot. We may be completely talentless and plastic but it's the image that counts - and we are ensuring that our image stays firmly in your mind otherwise our limited very talents would ensure that our "A" list status would soon become "X" list! |
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| Henry VI - I wonder if he realised what a treasure he was leaving for future generations |
I often wonder what great minds and personalities of the
past would think if they returned and cast their eyes over 21st
century western “civilisation” – John Milton, Isaac Newton, Abraham Lincoln, Gandhi,
Thomas Jefferson, Winston Churchill, Clement Attlee, Oliver Cromwell, Thomas Rainsborough, Charles Dickens, William
Shakespeare, Franklin Roosevelt................... a guess would be that many
of them would shake their heads in disbelief and no little sadness.
So, it was with both huge satisfaction and pleasure that I
emerged into the night air at about half past nine last Wednesday night (March
5th) knowing that I had been present at something that really was
wonderful, a truly once in a life time
event and that for a couple of hours I had sat, often open mouthed, sometimes
stunned but at the same time humbled as I witnessed something that really did
make me feel proud to be British - or, more precisely, English. Hundreds of others, like me emerged into the
cold night of Cambridge knowing that we had been privileged to see and hear
something, which in absolute terms, was very, very special. I had, earlier in the day, passed a shop in
Cambridge selling birthday cards and in the window was a large card saying “Have a really awesome birthday” – what
we witnessed on Wednesday evening really was awesome – in the real sense of the
word, not the overused and trivialised word that we so often hear today
describing the very ordinary, the expected and the average.
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| John Eliot Gardiner |
And so at about 7 o’clock on Wednesday evening we made our
way through the twilight of King’s College quad and towards the great Chapel –
one of the very great buildings of England. Few places in the whole of the
country can have so much history attached, few places can have seen so many of
the great names of England – academics, politicians, royalty, great names of
literature, science and the arts, world leaders and the rest - walk past it and through it. Outside stood the BBC outside broadcast vans – the concert was
being broadcast live on the radio – and a line of people already stood outside
the chapel waiting to take their seats. As we stood there we heard locals
confirming how difficult tickets had been to get. We stood next to another
couple who had come all the way from south Wales to be at the concert.
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| The wonderful ceiling |
As we stood there I reflected how very English it all was.
Here we were at one of the great events of the musical year, where the great
and good of the musical (and other worlds) would be; we were standing waiting
to gain entry into one of the very greatest buildings of England and indeed, the
world and to see some of the greatest musical names perform. And yet, and
yet....... there was little or no security, certainly no bull necked security guards, just
a gentle university porter politely stopping anyone going in until the doors officially opened. There was no red carpet, no glitz, no
flashing lights or media coverage, no celebrity status – the great, the good
and the peasants (Pat and I!) all queued up together, standing in the chilly
night air, all speaking in whispers so as not to disturb the tranquillity of
the King’s quad. A hastily typed notice was sellotaped to the gate advising
people of the entrance for those with unsighted tickets and that was about the
sum total of the “organisation”. In the great buildings of King’s College
windows were lit as people inside got on with their everyday work – no-one
bothered to look out and see the growing queue, no one was looking for “the
stars”. It was so typically English and so very ordinary – and in being so it was, in these days of
constant hyperbole, so very extraordinary!
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| The King's Quad at dusk - we queued from the door on the bottom left |
And at last we were allowed in. We had our tickets at the
ready but no-one bothered to check them. Yet, despite the lack of security and
despite the fact that every seat was taken, no-one tried to get in without ticket, no-one caused a fuss – it all just
happened. England at its best – unassuming, calm, polite, gentle, unhurried, taking
everything in its moderate stride. All qualities that we increasingly seem to have lost.
I swear, had some budding Al Qaeda terrorist cell planned to commit some act of terrorism and strike at this, the very heart of the English Establishment, their
venture would have failed miserably. They would have been put off, confused, by the
ordinariness of the occasion – and anyway, the folk in the queue would, like elderly headmistresses and headmasters, have simply glared
at them, wagged their fingers in admonishment and gently, but firmly, told them not to be so silly. "Go home" the would be terrorists would have been told "and take a warm bath, make yourselves some nice toasted crumpets and jam with a nice cup of tea - and and then have an early night in bed. You'll feel much better in the morning. There's a good chap!" They would have been sent slinking off into the dusk, tails between their legs, humbly apologising for disturbing the event and thoroughly chastened! There were no
“plastic people” trying to sell us trivia or escorting us to our seats, there were no "loud" people intent upon making themselves the centre of attraction or showing their ignorance and lack of awareness by breaking the quietness and solemnity, there were no ice
cream sellers or refreshments available, no “have a nice day” insincerity, no CDs for sale, no commemorative mugs or other "tat", no
“comfort breaks” (what an awful Americanism!) planned (for there are no public
toilets in Kings College Chapel!). Even though the work was almost two hours in
length there were no concessions made that would trivialise the evening. In
short, the expectation was that people would behave in a manner to suit the
occasion and the venue, there was no dumbing down. It was English stiff upper
lip time! It was what we, the audience expected and demanded.
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| The poster advertising the first concert 50 years ago Many of the then unknown performers are now musical superstars |
At 7.45 pm John Eliot Gardiner walked down the central aisle
to take his place at the front of the orchestra. There was no fanfare, rhythmic clapping or extended standing ovation as there might have been at an awful American staged event - just a reserved acknowledgement of the great man's presence and the silence. The solo bass stepped forward, his deep voice ringing around the Chapel and opening the work and then the choir’s voices rose in splendour, filling the
great Chapel with the most glorious sound – I swear that there a mighty intake
of breath at that sound. In a Times review of a Gardiner/Monteverdi Choir concert in 2011 reviewer Richard Morrison
famously said: “If all the world’s depressed people [could] hear this ........the
pharmaceutical companies would be out of business......who needs pills to lift
the spirits when we have this.......I felt as if I was flying above the clouds.....”. I'm sure that many, like me, in King's on Wednesday night when listening to those opening few bars - and for the next two hours - would echo those sentiments completely. In this morning’s Times Morrison was equally
lavish in his praise of Wednesday’s concert
“Same magnificent chapel, same glorious music, same conductor — but half a
century on. ...........this was a triumph........I have never heard this
masterly compendium of 17th-century sacred music interpreted with such fervour
and freedom and delivered with such pungent virtuosity”. I have no doubts
that every member of that audience on Wednesday would say "Amen" to that. The Daily Telegraph was
equally lavish in its praise: John Eliot
Gardiner’s performance of the Monteverdi Vespers in King’s College Chapel,
Cambridge, on March 5 1964 has entered musical lore, not only for giving birth
to the Monteverdi Choir but for helping to shake up period-conscious
performance in this country. Fifty years on to the night, Gardiner was back at
King’s for a celebratory performance of the same work, his energy seemingly
undiminished.......Here in Cambridge, a new-generation Monteverdi Choir –
augmented in a couple of key moments by veterans of the 1964 and other early
performances – was joined by the Choristers of King’s College and the English
Baroque Soloists...... Everyone lent tonal weight to the kaleidoscopic final
Magnificat, in which all the richness of Monteverdi’s invention comes together:
it was by turns ethereal and magnificent....... “. And The Guardian was equally spellbound: “It was stirring, as performances in that chapel can hardly fail to be –
full of glorious sounds from the 36 voices and the instruments of the English
Baroque Soloists, full of Gardiner's typically punchy rhythms and .......cadential
diminuendos, and the spatial effects were carefully choreographed. The echoes
of Audi Coelum were beautifully calibrated, the trebles of the college choir
added the litany of saints to the otherwise instrumental Sonata sopra Sancta
Maria, and founder members of the Monteverdi Choir joined in for the closing
Ave Maris Stella and Magnificat.......for Gardiner and his choir, the Vespers
has become an institution, the musical equivalent of a world heritage site......”
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| The heraldic carvings above our seats |
And as I sat – often open mouthed – I looked around me.
Above me the great soaring ceiling of King’s – surely one of the great wonders
of the world – looking almost like the entrance way to heaven. Certainly, I'm sure, just as its mediaeval builders intended it look! And the Choir’s
voices rose to that ceiling and away into the March sky and into the heavens. The College and Chapel
were founded by Henry VI – who also founded Eton - in 1441 so it was already an
old building by the time that Monteverdi wrote his Vespers in Venice in the early years of the 17th
century. The Vespers were originally
composed to be sung in the mighty St Mark’s in Venice, and indeed Eliot
Gardiner and the choir have performed them there. They are monumental in scale, and require a choir large
enough and skilful enough to cover all the vocal parts and split into separate choirs while
accompanying different soloists. When I wandered to the front of the Chapel
before the concert began strange and ancient instruments were already laid out
on the orchestra’s chairs and as the performance took place we were treated to
the instrumental sounds of the sixteenth century. Monteverdi's unique approach
to each movement of the Vespers has
earned the work a place in history – it was a “first” in those far off days
for it incorporated secular music within
a religious performance and its
individual movements present an array of musical forms - sonata, motet, hymn,
and psalm – all within a piece of devotional music.Throughout the performance
we watched and listened intrigued and amazed as singers and musicians would
occasionally, and silently, leave their appointed place to disappear behind the
rood screen or into an adjoining side chapel or go the back of the main Chapel
to perform some part of the Vespers
and give the effect of distance or echo or some other embellishment to enrich and refine the sound. As we sat on the
end of our row, and mid way through, the boy choristers of Kings College filed
passed us, having left their places in the choir stalls. Led by their famous
choir master Stephen Cleobury they
silently made their way to the back of the Chapel and a few moments later their
glorious voices were heard behind us – truly quadraphonic sound! And then,
equally silently, heads bowed, they made their way back and disappeared into
their choir stalls.
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| The Monteverdi Choir today |
There are surely few buildings, apart from St Mark’s, where
the Vespers are so at home – but King’s is one of them. As I sat there I wondered how many great musicians and
musical offerings had been heard by that ceiling and those walls in the six
centuries of their life. Not only great choirs in great concerts, but the
everyday services that take place there. When we first arrived at Kings on
Wednesday afternoon we could have gone in (for free) to listen to the world
famous Choral Evensong sung by the boy choristers of Kings. The King’s Choir is
itself world famous – especially so since every Christmas Eve the famous carol
concert takes place which is broadcast throughout the world and which for many
heralds the start of Christmas . As we had meandered around Cambridge’s streets
and looked at the other world famous
colleges many, like King’s, had boards outside informing the public that they
were welcome to join Evensong in the college chapels. As it was Ash Wednesday
many of these services would be special affairs – at King’s the choir were
singing the works of the sixteenth century English composer William Byrd. Byrd,
like Monteverdi, was composing at the time when music was emerging from the era
of plainsong to polyphony and the Vespers
of 1610 are amongst the early works to celebrate the newly emerging musical
sound. In their day they were very much “new sound”, cutting edge!
And I thought, too, as I sat there how many others had sat,
like me, over the centuries and listened to the magnificent music and great
words that have been spoken in King’s College Chapel. The list of the great
minds and great leaders who are part of King’s history is a list which in many ways
tracks the course of English (and indeed world) history since the sixteenth
century: Francis Walsingham (Secretary to Elizabeth 1st and her “spy
master” – the first James Bond!) , Robert Walpole the great statesman and
effectively the first English Prime Minister, EM Forster the famous
novelist, John Maynard Keynes the
economist whose theories dominated 20th century economics and
politics and who is once again increasingly in fashion, JK Galbraith, the great
American economist, Andrew Davis world famous conductor, Bernard Williams, the
philosopher, Eric Hobsbawm arguably the world’s greatest historian, Rupert
Brooke the famous poet, Alan Turing the mathematician who cracked the wartime
German Enigma Code and who is regarded as the father of the modern
computer......... and, of course, Eliot Gardiner amongst King’s past students there are six Nobel prize
winners – just from this one constituent college of Cambridge University. All these, and thousands of
others, will have looked, as I looked, at the magnificent stained glass of the
Chapel’s windows – the glass amongst the most precious and outstanding in the
world. It was made and put there by the great Flemish glass maker Barnard Flower in the late fifteenth century.
Flower was employed by Henry VI for the work but for a time was himself a refugee fleeing
from persecution in his own land. Had Flower been alive today it is more than likely that our modern
immigration laws would have denied him entry to the country. How much we have
changed – for the worse. And then I looked at the walls with their intricate
heraldic carvings and patterns. What fifteenth century craftsmen carved these?
What did he go home to each night? Did he know that his day’s work would be
marvelled at half a millennia after his death? That his work really could be
described as awesome? I looked at the
carved crowns, the lions rampant, the unicorns and the great carved roses. The
roses, not Tudor roses, for Henry VI came before the Tudor dynasty nor were they Lancastrian or Yorkist Roses (even though Henry was of the family of Lancaster and the Wars of the Roses broke out during his reign) - no, they symbolise
two things: the white rose represents the Virgin Mary, one of King’s patron
saints and they also represent the bringing forth of the flower of
knowledge. It is perhaps not insignificant that Henry, although often forgotten in the great swathe of English history and amongst the magnificence of other monarchs such as Henry VIII or Elizabeth I, should be symbolised by the rose of knowledge, for despite a period when he himself was considered to be mad his reign is, above all, remembered for his commitment to learning and education. Very appropriate.
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| Half way through! |
As the choir rose to the final Amen of the Magnificat there seemed again a final intake of breath
from the audience and as the last sounds drained away there was total, almost stunned, silence.
It almost seemed wrong to applaud in that place and at that time. But then as
one the whole audience, and indeed the performers, broke into a spontaneous
huge applause. Flashbulbs flashed and the ringing applause went on and on and
on. But, English reserve was not cast aside – it was all very staid and
tasteful – no whoops, no whistles, no cries of “More”. In front of us a group
of Japanese young people applauded enthusiastically but typically sedately and along the row
elderly donnish professors wearing their Cambridge ties clapped their hands
with quiet gusto – acknowledging something of very great worth but not being carried away. It was all so very “ordinary”, so very English. Whilst we all knew that we
had seen and heard something very
special in a place that was very special everyone wanted to treat what they had
seen and heard with respect, not glamorise and so cheapen it. But, as I sat
there applauding, I thought to myself that perhaps even the ghosts that might
inhabit King’s College Chapel, and who have seen many such great occasions in
the Chapel’s long and illustrious life must surely have put this down as one of
the most memorable events.
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| The King's rose |
I am not one for jingoism or royalty. I don’t go much on overkill,
name dropping, excess or fashionable
“style” but I have to confess that as I
emerged into the cold Cambridge night air I oozed self satisfaction and
superiority! I knew that I had been
present at something very grand and I was glad to be English. My faith had been
somewhat restored. In the front of our programme for the concert was a piece
written by Prince Charles, Patron of the Monteverdi Choir, praising Gardiner
and the Choir for the work that they have done and what they have achieved over
the past half century. The words that Prince Charles wrote were just right,
unassuming, just like the performers and the audience – not sensationalist, not
showy, not patronising, not pretentious. There were no words like "awesome" or "fantastic" or "amazing" – just a gentle recognition of all that had been achieved and contributed. It was the classic English understatement and
exactly the atmosphere that pervaded King’s College Chapel on Wednesday night.
It was indubitably one of the great musical events of the year – not just in
this country but, I suspect, internationally too. It was a most wonderful evening of truly
great music. But it was also respectful of the place and the occasion, it added
one more layer to the history of King’s but there were no red carpets, no glitzy
“stars”, no concessions to the trivial or the cheap or the tasteless. The great
and the good came, indistinguishable from the rest of us, in their overcoats and
anoraks; there was no brashness or raucous whistling or calling out at the end of the
performance, no encores given, no applause that went on and on – just a
sustained, sincere applause - tasteful
and knowledgeable by people who knew what they had witnessed. This was definitely not Tony Blair's awful "Cool Brittania" and it certainly wasn't Margaret Thatcher's drum bashing "Rule Brittania". As we stepped out into the King's quad I thought about some words that I had read earlier in the day. I am currently reading the biography of Clement Attlee by Nicklaus Thomas-Symonds. Symond's relates that Churchill disparagingly described Attlee - often regarded as the greatest Prime Minister of the twentieth century - as "a sheep dressed up in sheep's clothing" . But Symond's argues "Attlee personified Britishness - understated, unemotional in public, unfussy and with a deep and quiet pride in his country and its history" . And I also thought about the description of King's College's founder, Henry VI that I had read prior to our visit. Henry was described as "peaceful, pious and benevolent" a description that would have suited Attlee completely and which matched exactly my feelings about what I had just witnessed - it was all so
very English. Henry VI and indeed Clement Attlee would, I think, have felt very much at home had they sat in Wednesday night's audience.
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| Gardiner takes the applause |
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| The final bows |
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