Handel's Messiah
Friday, December 7, 2001 at 8:00 pm.
Texts and Translations Performing Artists
Program Notes
"We should always remember that sensitiveness and emotion constitute the real content of a work of art." - Maurice Ravel
Dwindling finances, personal despair, a creative libretto, and a propitious invitation from Ireland seem to have been the primary impetuses which fired Handel's imagination to begin work on what was to become his ninth oratorio.
By 1728, England had come to the end of its infatuation with Italian opera, an art form which Handel had perfected and which during his stay in London had provided comfortable income for several years. This, plus a particularly badly timed investment of cash in a London-based opera company which subsequently folded in 1737 left Handel without meaningful finances and plunged him into a state of severe depression. It was at this nadir when Charles Jennens, a wealthy landowner "to the manor born" and a friend and literary collaborator with Handel (he wrote Handel's libretti for Saul, L'Allegro, and Belshazzar) brought the composer an ingenious collection of mostly Old Testament scriptures. These, skillfully woven together with a few well-chosen New Testament texts, compellingly told the story of Christ - his birth, life, passion, resurrection - and, ultimately, the true meaning of Christ to all believing Christians. Handel recognized the great musical possibilities of the libretto. When in 1741 he received an invitation from the Lord Lieutenant of Ireland, William Cavendish, Duke of Devonshire bidding Handel come to Dublin to present a series of subscription performances of his own music, the composer's dormant optimism and extraordinary creativity took flight. In the short span of twenty-four days in the summer of 1741, all of Messiah was written and scored.
Messiah was to become one of Western music's most beloved compositions, but its acceptance in England, after its highly praised 1742 success in Dublin, was slow to come. Britons, especially churchmen, objected to performances of a work with sacred text presented in theatres - a custom Handel had adopted for his oratorios as a commercial venture aimed at generating paying audiences. Yet, as program annotator Nick Jones has pointed out:
"...By eliminating the dramatic trappings of stage action (minimal though it was in that era), costumes, and scenery, he was able to give performances during the Lenten season, when rival houses presenting operas were dark. In the place of visual attractions, he supplied greater drama in the musical writing, especially in more prominent parts for chorus and orchestra. The texts were now in English, but the musical forms were much the same: recitatives and arias varied with choruses and instrumental numbers."
It wasn't until 1750, when Messiah was first offered in a benefit performance at London's Foundling Hospital, that popular appreciation of Messiah began to rise in earnest; it has since become the composer's most popular choral work.
On a personal note, it was with great respect and more than a bit of trepidation that I began looking again at Messiah last year, a score I remembered fondly from having sung it as a chorister. Participating as a singer in the chorus in this work affords a useful perspective that helps explain the special nature and almost universal appeal of Messiah. After several watershed (for me) performances with Colin Davis several years ago, I realized that my earlier exposures to Messiah by means of score studying, listening to recordings, and as a member of the audience had been somehow imperfect, or at least, incomplete. Participating in the work itself - as a performer, not just as an auditor - made a huge difference in how Messiah "spoke" to me. I suppose this is not much of a revelation. In fact, this is true of all the music I have both heard and performed. But Messiah was something special, and I have tried to put my finger on just why.
What I believe has made the difference is the incredibly high level of artistry which Handel maintains from piece to piece within the entire work. There is barely one moment of weakness or lack of intensity. And there is Jennens's libretto, which is very ingeniously constructed, more than it may initially seem. And through it all is the truly extraordinary humanity of the work as a whole, a work which seems to continuously give more and more as it is heard again and again, telling the story of a godly personage, sent to Earth as a mortal by his Father, with the aim that his Son would bring love to the world and wash it clean of sin by suffering and dying a horrible death, only to bring humanity closer to God. Handel reminds us of this, poignantly and powerfully, with music that thoroughly and completely engages us and speaks as directly to us now as it has through the many years since its creation.
Perhaps Handel's words about his audience, spoken after Messiah's first performance, reveal the key to why this work's marvelous outpouring of sensitiveness and emotion moves its listeners so effectively: "I should be sorry, my lord, if I have only succeeded in entertaining them. I wished to make them better."
Notes Copyright (c) 2001 by John W. Ehrlich
