Classic Ross Amico

Tag: Oratorio

Handel’s Messiah: History and Hallelujah!

Hallelujah!

George Frideric Handel’s most famous oratorio, “Messiah,” was given its first performance in Dublin on this date in 1742. The work was presented as a charitable event, benefiting two hospitals and liberating 142 men from debtors’ prison.

Eight years later, Handel revived the piece at London’s Foundling Hospital, a recently-instituted home for abandoned infants and children. He had already donated an organ to the hospital’s chapel, and the year before, recycled the “Hallelujah Chorus” as part of his “Foundling Hospital Anthem.” Again, Handel’s oratorio raised a ton of money. The charitable presentation became an annual event, with the composer returning every year for the remainder of his life. Handel’s relationship to the institution was cemented with an honorary title. When he died, he bequeathed the rights to “Messiah” to the hospital.

“Messiah” falls into three parts, with a running time of roughly 2 ½ hours, often padded by intermissions. The famous “Hallelujah Chorus” comes at the end of Part II, which focuses on the Passion of Jesus, so really the oratorio is as much of an Easter piece as it is appropriate for Christmas – actually more so, midwinter tradition aside.

Reaching the end of his manuscript, Handel inscribed the letters “SDG” – an acronym for “Soli Deo Gloria,” “To God alone the glory.” This, combined with the speed at which he composed it (Handel tossed off the entire oratorio in a mere 24 days), has contributed to a widespread belief that the music was conceived in a blaze of divine inspiration. The well-worn tale is that, as Handel composed the “Hallelujah Chorus,” “He saw all heaven before him.”

For as beautiful as that sounds – and I would like it to be true – many of Handel’s large-scale works were composed within similar time frames. It was not unusual in those days for composers to just churn this stuff out. Handel’s next oratorio, “Samson,” begun within a week of his finishing “Messiah,” was completed in a month.

The custom of standing for the “Hallelujah Chorus” is said to have originated at the work’s 1743 London premiere, when King George II, possibly drowsing through a rather somber stretch, sprang to his feet at the sudden exultant clamor, so that everyone in the hall was obliged to stand.

When the legend becomes fact, print the legend. It’s good to be the king!

April 13, 2023
Joseph Ryelandt Composer of Faith

It seems only appropriate that Joseph Ryelandt’s birthday anniversary would fall around Holy Week – this year on Good Friday, as a matter of fact – as he was an artist whose devout beliefs were central to every aspect of his existence and creativity.

Born in Bruges in 1870, Ryelandt was raised to value culture, tradition, and faith. He was unhindered by financial concerns for the first half of his very long life. World War I, however, badly affected his finances. The father of eight children himself, he took up teaching out of necessity at the age of 54. He did so with some hesitation, but was relieved to find it truly rewarding. He was appointed director of the Bruges Conservatory in 1924.

While his academic and creative work evidently brought him enormous satisfaction, life at home was saddened by the gradual decline of his wife’s health. She died in 1939. Ryelandt composed very little during the Second World War. A few chamber works followed, and then he abandoned composition altogether. He devoted his retirement to literature – writing poetry and reading the world’s classics. He died, following a brief illness, in 1965, at the age of 95.

Of all of his works, he considered his five oratorios the most important, though he composed much else, including six symphonies (the first of which he destroyed). None of the symphonies were performed until 1960. It was then that the Symphony No. 4 received its belated premiere, on a concert in celebration of the composer’s 90th birthday.

Ryelandt’s Fourth Symphony was composed in 1912-1913, on the very eve of World War I. Like nearly everything he wrote, the symphony is an outgrowth of his personal faith. The text of the triumphant chorus that concludes the work is from the Credo, as heard in the traditional Catholic Mass. Earlier in the piece, a choir of tenors sings a text from Thomas à Kempis’ “The Imitation of Christ.”

Whether or not you find it appropriate for Good Friday, which after all is a somber observance, I leave it to you. The piece does conclude in a blaze of glory.

Happy birthday, Joseph Ryelandt, and a blessed Good Friday to those who observe it.

April 7, 2023
Handel: The Great Bear of Music

With enormous appetites to rival his formidable musicianship, a larger-than-life reputation, and an eccentric, much remarked-upon manner of walking, George Frideric Handel was affectionately nicknamed “The Great Bear.”

Handel is fondly remembered for his “Water Music” and “Music for the Royal Fireworks,” his epic oratorios, his florid operas, and his copious concertos and chamber music.

Though by many accounts a kind-hearted man with a good sense of humor, he was also prone to an explosive, bear-like temper. I imagine this would have gone unnoted during the several years he spent in Italy, but in England people tended to take heed.

Music historian Charles Burney recalled Handel berating a chorister during rehearsals for “Messiah.” “… Handel let loose his great bear upon him; and after swearing in four or five languages, cried out in broken English….”

During rehearsals for the opera “Ottone,” he once grabbed the soprano Francesca Cuzzoni and threatened to toss her out a window. Cuzzoni, looking to make the best impression with her London debut, had roused “the Bear” by pressing him for a replacement aria, the better to showcase her unique talents.

But Cuzzoni could give as good as she got. During a Handel production of Giovanni Bononcini’s opera “Astianatte,” she and her costar, Faustina Bordoni, flew at one another in a fury and began tearing at their costumes. They had to be dragged off stage.

Some years earlier, as a young man of 19, Handel was filling in as conductor at the premiere of Johann Mattheson’s opera “Cleopatra.” Mattheson also sang the tenor role of Antony, so while he was on stage, Handel was to sit at the harpsichord and keep order among the musicians.

Trouble arose when Mattheson returned to the orchestra and Handel refused to cede his place. A power struggle ensued, as Mattheson sought to regain control, but Handel insisted on continuing to conduct. The performance was interrupted when Mattheson suggested the two take the quarrel outside. Swords were drawn, and one of Mattheson’s thrusts glanced off a button near Handel’s heart. This had the effect of dousing the combatants with cold water, and the two reconciled to become lifelong friends.

It wasn’t all claws and teeth, to be sure. Ursine Handel could also be a bit of a teddy bear, and a generous one. One of his more enduring works, “Messiah” – penned in a mere 24 days – was given its first performance in Dublin, on April 13, 1742, as a charitable event. It benefited two hospitals and liberated 142 men from debtor’s prison.

Eight years later, Handel revived the work at London’s Foundling Hospital, a recently-instituted home for abandoned infants and children. He had already donated an organ to the hospital’s chapel, and the year before, recycled the “Hallelujah Chorus” as part of his “Foundling Hospital Anthem.” Again, Handel’s oratorio raised a ton of money. The charitable presentation became an annual event, with the composer returning every year for the rest of his life. Handel’s relationship to the institution was cemented with an honorary title. After his death, he left the rights to the oratorio to the hospital.

When Handel finally did die, blind but rich, in 1759, at the age of 74, his funeral was attended by 3,000 people. He never married, but filled his hours with composing – leaving 30 oratorios and 50 operas – and of course living the good life, with plenty of beer and food. He was interred at Westminster Abbey, a very great honor indeed.

Above his grave, there is a monument, a sculpture of Handel in the act of composing his cash cow, the oratorio “Messiah.” The bear may now be in hibernation, but every Christmas – and sometimes Lent – his music lives on.

Happy birthday, Handel!

CLOCKWISE FROM LEFT: Handel memorial at Westminster Abbey; unkind caricature of the composer as a fat boar (Joseph Goupy, “The Charming Brute,” 1743); Handel threatens to throw Francesca Cuzzoni out a window (Peter Jackson, “When They Were Young: Handel the Musician,” 1966); Handel crosses swords with Johann Mathesson (Andrew Howat, “Strange Tales,” 1977)

February 23, 2023
Haydn’s The Seasons On Air Now

On the air right now: some well-seasoned music by Franz Joseph Haydn. Until 4 p.m. EST, it’s a complete performance of his oratorio “The Seasons.” If you hurry, you might be able to catch a hit of spring! Haydn is a man for all seasons, on WWFM – The Classical Network and wwfm.org.

November 19, 2019
Beecham’s Handel A Delightful Eccentricity

Sir Thomas Beecham developed an early love for Handel, at a time when very few of his contemporaries knew more than a handful of the composer’s works. Certainly the operas and oratorios – with the exception of “Messiah,” which had grown more and more bloated through years of Victorian adoration – were exceedingly scarce. Beecham despaired of this, since there was so much brilliant music, he knew, embedded within these sleeping giants.

He responded by not only reviving a number of the oratorios, in heavily reworked, though for the most part musically sensitive editions, he also arranged choice Handelian morsels into original ballet and concert suites. In doing so, he introduced audiences to much worthy music, which had previously been known only to scholars and specialists.

This Sunday night on “The Lost Chord,” we’ll listen to Beecham’s at times eccentric, though generally delightful recordings. Alongside the trademark charm of the conductor’s approach comes a thrilling virtuosity in some of the faster music, nowhere better demonstrated than in a 1932 recording of something Beecham called “The Origin of Design,” a suite de ballet distilled from the operas “Ariodante” “Terpsichore,” “Il pastor fido,” “Giulio Cesare,” and “Rinaldo.”

In approaching those oratorios he ventured to present whole (or something like it), Beecham was not only NOT above tinkering with the orchestration, he would toss out entire sections and rearrange mercilessly, all with the aim of cooking up a digestible evening of music which the general public might otherwise just as happily left in the freezer. At its most gauche, Beecham’s method could result in something like his last recording of Handel’s “Messiah,” which he set down in 1959. The re-orchestration was commissioned from Sir Eugene Goossens and features ample cymbal crashes and other eccentricities, which seem somehow to actual sap some of the excitement out of the original music.

Beecham defended his padded “Messiah,” not only pointing to the composer’s documented delight in great demonstrations of sound, but also stating his fear that without some effort along the lines he’d undertaken, the greater portion of Handel’s output would remain unplayed – in his words, “possibly to the satisfaction of armchair purists, but hardly to the advantage of the keenly alive and enquiring concertgoer.”

Despite taking great liberties, Beecham’s recording of Handel’s “Solomon,” set down in 1955-1956, is, in a word, gorgeous. It’s nowhere near what Handel conceived – there’s a huge chunk taken out of the middle, with some of the displaced numbers given refuge in wholly unrelated parts of the oratorio; Solomon, a role generally undertaken these days by a countertenor is assigned to a baritone; the cymbal crashes that disfigure Beecham’s “Messiah” turn up here, as well, but somehow, if one allows oneself to succumb to the Beecham magic, none of it is truly bothersome. In fact, the recording could be deemed an unalloyed delight. It’s not something you’d want as your only “Solomon,” yet it could be the recording of the work you return to the most.

I hope you’ll join me for “Handeling Beecham” – Sir Thomas Beecham conducts Handel – this Sunday night at 10:00 EDT, on WWFM – The Classical Network and wwfm.org.

April 14, 2019

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