Don't be "frighted" - be part of the great story that is Handel's Messiah at St Peter's Church Ruddington on December 12th (7.30 pm)

There are many pieces of great  music that I enjoy each year at Christmastide – Bach’s Christmas Oratorio, Telemann’s Festive Suite, Corelli’s Concerto Grosso Number 8 ( often called  The Christmas Concerto) and many, many more – but above them all towers Handel’s great masterpiece the Messiah. Undeniably it is one of the very  great musical works.  It is, however, like other great pieces, more than simply a good piece of music. Just as with Beethoven’s Ninth Symphony, Bach’s B Minor Mass, Bach’s St Matthew Passion or the Mozart Requiem it is something that reminds us what it is to be human – just small spots in a vast cosmos.  And it confirms to  everyone, even those of no religious affiliation or view, that there is something deeper and more significant about Christmas than just torn wrapping paper, bottles of wine, Christmas stockings or turkey and stuffing. Put simply, the Messiah reminds us of what we are about – or should be about - for those few days in dark December whilst much of mankind watches TV shows and binges upon his and her excesses.

I have seen and listened to the Messiah more times than I could possibly guess at. Indeed, it is one of the formative influences on my life – begun with an almost “road to Damascus” experience which brought me to classical music as a teenager (see blog: A night alone with Klever Kaff - May 2011). In the many performances I have seen and heard over the years some stand out – often for the strangest of reasons. A quarter of a century ago Pat and I were holidaying in Florence. It was Easter and we passed a church outside of which was advertised a performance of the Messiah. We went along that night and sat like many others on the cold stone floor surrounded by great Italian works of art that decorated the church. Throughout the three hour performance ordinary Italians popped in and out – many simply walking their dogs but grabbing a few minutes of wonderful music at the same time. It was quite magical. And then, as the opening bars of the "Hallelujah Chorus" struck up from the little orchestra, all the Brits in the church suddenly made themselves known – as if a switch had been pressed. We all stood to attention in the time honoured manner! Italians looked in confusion at what was happening when a third of the audience rose in unison and stood proud! Magic!
The story of the Messiah is, indeed, a magical and rich mixture of national and musical history, the great and the good, and the everyday. It stretches from great opera houses and theatres of the world to tiny village halls and churches; its story is the story of both Kings and humble commoners; it encompasses the great sopranos, tenors, choirs and orchestras as well as the keen amateur musician and singer. It is a Christmas piece and an Easter favourite, but also a piece for all seasons. Messiah is a piece to give us a sense of place in the great scheme of things, a work to spiritually refresh, inspire and to humble as well as a source of national pride.  Finally, it is at the same time, both part of our national history to call upon in times of fear or celebration as well as a part of our local life to act as a marker in each year and across the years. We all, no matter who we are or what we are, both own and profit from this wonderful work.

St Peter's Church Langton

I  came across a bit of the Messiah jig saw by accident one day a few years ago. I went, one afternoon, to visit a trainee teacher who I was supervising as she did her teaching practice in a small village school in Leicestershire. After watching her teach we retired to the school staff room to discuss her lesson. On the notice board there was a notice advertising a performance of the Messiah in the local church and as I read the notice I noticed that the performance included some very well known, international singers and players. I wondered how the church in so small a village could afford such great names - and then I read the small print.  It was to celebrate the 250th anniversary of the first church performance of the Messiah in England - the great and the good of the musical world were celebrating this very special event. The school was in the tiny village of Church Langton, the church where that first church performance took place was just across the road.

In the Spring of 1759, only a few weeks after Handel had died in London, a Leicestershire man and Church Langton resident and philanthropist, the Rev. William Hanbury, paid £500 for an organ to be built and transported to the local church of St Peter’s in his village - mid way between Leicester and Market Harborough. It is about 40 miles away from Ruddington, where I live. According to local records, the sound of the organ was a terrifying prospect “....some of the common people were frighted and hurried out of the church with all speed....they thought the Day of Judgement was come indeed.....” After the tumult had died down and the villagers become used to the sounds of the organ and other instruments brought by Hanbury, the very first performance of the Messiah was given in an English parish church - on September 26th 1759. In the two day Handel musical festival that followed in the village records tell us that “the countryside flocked to the performance...accommodation of all kinds was at a premium, the price of food was nearly tripled, there were more than two hundred chariots, landaus and post chaises....” This little snippet of local history and music represents well, perhaps, the bigger tale of the music of Handel and especially that of Messiah. 

The Rev. William Hanbury - what a wonderful

tradition he started.

Hanbury was a wealthy man with great ambitions and aspirations and he not only began the Messiah's church performance. He had plans to build a Minster to rival the great York Minster in his village. He never realised that dream but he did endow his village with other things - most notably the school in which I had sat that afternoon and watched that young teacher teach. It was and still is known as the Hanbury School and was "founded for the education and religious instruction of boys and girls of this parish".

But back to Messiah. It was  composed in 1741 based on  a scriptural text compiled by Charles Jennens from the King James Bible, the Psalms and the Book of Common Prayer. Jennens, too, was a Leicestershire man - he lived only a few miles from Church Langton. It was first performed in Dublin on 13 April 1742, and received its London premier nearly a year later. After a modest public reception in London, the oratorio quickly gained in popularity, eventually becoming one of the best-known and most frequently performed choral works in Western music.

Handel, of course, was a German – he became a naturalised Englishman and in his life time became almost more English than the English. He walked with Kings and composed some of the very great state music – much of it still with us. His Water Music, for example which was played a  year or two ago  as the Royal Barge floated down the Thames in the Queen’s Jubilee Year – just  as it had been played in 1717 for George 1st as he cruised down the Thames. Handel’s royal connections do not end there; our Queen, now in her 90^th year, will one day be replaced and as the crown is placed upon the head of her successor the music that will be played and sung will be that of Handel – Zadok the Priest. Handel's impact on the life of his adopted country was, and still is, huge. 

Charles Jennens - a Leicestershire man

who gave Handel the words & idea

But although he walked with Kings he had to earn his crust and he composed furiously to earn a living. He was something of an impresario – putting on operas at a great rate. He owned shares in theatres – he was almost the Andrew Lloyd Webber of his day! His fortunes went up and down and although he died a wealthy and respected man, like everyone else, he suffered success and failure. In an echo of today’s economically challenged times he lost a huge amount of money with the financial banking scandal known as the South Sea Bubble and, just as today, the fickle world of music with its ever changing fashions forced him to continually rethink his approach.

By the late 1730’s interest in grand Italian opera was declining – there was a move towards English language productions and although Handel continued to write and produce great opera he increasingly moved towards the English oratorio. In July 1741 Charles Jennens, a friend of Handel,  sent him a new libretto for an oratorio, and in a letter said: "I hope he [Handel] will lay out his whole Genius & Skill upon it, that the Composition may excell all his former Compositions, as the Subject excells every other subject. The Subject is Messiah".

The music for Messiah was completed in 24 days of swift composition. Having received Jennens' text sometime after 10 July 1741, Handel began work on it on 22 August. His records show that he had completed it in draft by 12 September, followed by two days of "filling up" to produce the finished work on 14 September.

The great man's handwriting on the score

The score's 259 pages show some signs of haste such as blots, scratchings-out, unfilled bars and other uncorrected errors, but according to music scholars the number of errors is remarkably small in a document of this length. At the end of his manuscript Handel wrote  "SDG"—Soli Deo Gloria, "To God alone the glory". This inscription, taken with the speed of composition, has encouraged the belief that Handel wrote the music in a fervour of divine inspiration in which, as he wrote the "Hallelujah Chorus”, "he saw all heaven before him". The reality, however, is perhaps rather more prosaic! Many of Handel's compositions were composed within similar timescales – they had to be squeezed between theatrical and operatic seasons. There is significant evidence that Handel’s finances were at a low, fashions were changing and he needed a new idea to boost his bank account!  In short, for Handel and other musicians of the day, time was money! 

Handel agreed to give a season of six concerts in Dublin in the winter of 1741–42 following an invitation from the Duke of Devonshire, then Lord Lieutenant of Ireland, and in early March it was further agreed to give a charity concert in April 1742 - the premier of Messiah.

Another successful concert!

He had been given permission from St Patrick's and Christ Church Cathedrals to use their choirs for this occasion - a total of 16 men and 16 boy choristers; several of the men were allocated solo parts. The women soloists were Christina Maria Avoglio and Susannah Cibber, an established stage actress and contralto, who had sung for Handel before. The charities that were to benefit were prisoners' debt relief, the Mercer's Hospital, and the Charitable Infirmary. In its report on a public rehearsal, the Dublin News-Letter described the oratorio as "...far surpass[ing] anything of that Nature which has been performed in this or any other Kingdom". Seven hundred people attended the premiere on 13 April. So that the largest possible audience could be admitted gentlemen were requested to remove their swords, and ladies were asked not to wear hoops in their dresses. The performance earned unanimous praise from the assembled press: "Words are wanting to express the exquisite delight it afforded to the admiring and crowded Audience" said one news sheet.  A Dublin clergyman, Rev. Delaney, was so overcome by Susanna Cibber's rendering of the aria "He was despised" that reportedly he leapt to his feet and cried: "Woman, for this, be all thy sins forgiven thee!" The takings amounted to around £400, providing about £127 to each of the three nominated charities and securing the release of 142 indebted prisoners.

This warm reception to Messiah  however, was not quite repeated in London when Handel introduced the work at the Covent Garden theatre in  March 1743. The first performance was overshadowed by the view that the work's subject-matter was too exalted to be performed in a theatre, particularly by secular singer-actresses such as Cibber. In an attempt to deflect such sensibilities Handel  avoided the name “Messiah” and presented the work as the "New Sacred Oratorio". Although the custom of standing for the "Hallelujah Chorus” originates from a belief that, at the London premier, King George II did so, there is no convincing evidence that the King was actually present. However, the first reference to the practice of standing appears in a letter dated 1756 – by which time the King had certainly witnessed the oratorio so there may be some truth in the tale.

During the 1750s Messiah was performed increasingly at festivals and cathedrals throughout the country and after Handel's death, performances were given in Florence, New York, Hamburg  and  Mannheim - where Mozart first heard it. These were still relatively small affairs involving twenty or thirty singers in the manner originally scored by Handel rather than grand “theatre” productions.

George Frederick Handel - what a treasure

trove he has left us!

But by 1784 a fashion for larger-scale performances began with a series of commemorative concerts of Handel's music given in Westminster Abbey under the patronage of King George III. A plaque on the Abbey wall records that "The Band consisting of DXXV [525] vocal & instrumental performers was conducted by Joah Bates Esqr."  In 1787 further performances were given at the Abbey; advertisements promised, "The Band will consist of Eight Hundred Performers". By the mid nineteenth century performances had become increasingly grandiose. Messiah was presented in New York in 1853 with a chorus of 300 and in Boston in 1865 with more than 600.  In Britain a performance held at the Crystal Palace in 1857 had 2,000 singers and an orchestra of 500!

Everyone, it seemed, wanted to get on the Messiah bandwagon! There were, however, growing dissenting voices towards the grand scale production. George Bernard Shaw commented, "Why, instead of wasting huge sums on the multitudinous dullness ..... does not somebody set up a thoroughly rehearsed and exhaustively studied performance of the Messiah with a chorus of twenty capable artists? Most of us would be glad to hear the work seriously performed once before we die."  Bernard Shaw’s plea was increasingly heard and although the huge-scale oratorio tradition was perpetuated by large ensembles such as the Royal Choral Society, the Mormon Tabernacle Choir and the Huddersfield Choral Society in the 20th century, there were increasingly calls for performances more faithful to Handel's smaller concept.

Susanna Cibber - sang in the first (and

subsequent) performances. I wonder if her

sins were, indeed, forgiven!

Despite the popularity of the large scale production the tide was turning. The conductor Sir Thomas Beecham wrote that  "....after the heyday of Victorian choral societies.....[there was a] rapid and violent reaction against monumental performances....... [the Messiah] should be played and heard as in the days between 1700 and 1750".

And in the intervening years, the Messiah has increasingly “come home” – to village hall and parish church. We now have “sing along” Messiahs, hugely popular community Messiahs like our own annual Ruddington performance. At the turn of the millenium, choir members from throughout Nottinghamshire filled Southwell Minister to sing, and be inspired as the 21st century began by the well loved words and music. And what was begun in Dublin by Handel and continued only a few weeks after the composer’s death in St Peter’s, Church Langton courtesy of the Reverend Hanbury will be continued again over 250 years later in our own St Peters here in Ruddington when the Ruddington & District Choral Society lead the local community in the 2016 Community Messiah  .  And, of course, it will, too, be being heard and sung  in churches and village halls throughout the country. It has come full circle – to a village church in the middle of England just as Hanbury dreamed of when he listened that Messiah in his own village church in the middle of England in 1759. 

Of course, when the Messiah takes place in St Peter’s here in Ruddington on December 12^th we cannot promise you “the Day of Judgement” feared by the villagers of Church Langton and we hope that you will not rush from our own St Peter’s “frighted” as did those villagers in 1759! We cannot promise that all your sins will be forgiven as was promised to contralto Sussana Cibber in Dublin! And we do not anticipate having to ask gentlemen to remove their swords of ladies remove their skirt hoops as Handel did almost three centuries ago! Nor do we anticipate the price of food in Ruddington tripling or that the “village be filled with landaus and post chaises” because of our concert!

But we do promise you the greatest oratorio ever written with which to begin your Christmas!  And in a week or two, on December 12^th when I sit at the back of the church, having done my duty by selling tickets on the door, and my wife takes her place amongst the sopranos as they file to their places at the front of the church to begin the performance I will, I know, reflect upon the history of this wonderful and monumental work. I'll think of the men removing their swords in Dublin; the ladies being very immodest by not having hoops in the skirts; the village of Church Langton filling up with "more than two hundred chariots, landaus and post chaises" and I might wonder if I will be brave enough to stand up in the middle of the performance and shout to the contralto "Woman, for this be all thy sins forgiven thee"! May be not! What I will undoubtedly reflect upon is how this work has been so much a part of my life and indeed the life of the nation for so many years.

St Peter's in Ruddington - be there on December 12th and

be part of the great story that is Messiah!

And, I will again marvel and think of what Mr Handel would have thought of it all today – his music being relayed electronically and instantly streamed into homes throughout the world!  Could he ever have forecast the impact that his work would have over hundreds of years in tiny village halls and churches like St Peter’s Church Langton and St Peter’s Ruddington, and in great concert halls throughout the world. I don’t expect he could have ever believed that audiences would stand to attention – even in cities like far off Florence - two hundred and fifty years after his death when his “Halleluiah Chorus” was sung. I don’t suppose that he could have ever have imagined that for many, like me, the opening bars of the Messiah would signal, that Christmas is again with us. What a wonderful heritage he has left us! So, why not come and join us - be part of the wonderful story of Messiah on Monday. You'll be very welcome, you won't be “frighted” but who knows – it may just be that all your sins will be forgiven thee!