Part 1

"The Magnificent Mr. Handel"

Part 2

"A Little Boy's Secret"

Part 3

"The Lucky Button"

Part 4

"The Traveler and the Homebody"

Part 5

Part 6

"Georgeous Georges "

Part 7

"Italian Opera on the 'Cutting Edge'"

Part 8

"'O' Stands for Standing O's for Oratorios"

Part 9

"Some Notes on Messiah"

Part 1

"The Magnificent Mr. Handel"

He strode through the streets of London as he bestrode the musical world of his time: with giant strides. The huge man, taller than six feet, and weighing 250 lbs., his heavy legs encased in silk stockings from his breeches down to his buckled shoes, his velvet scarlet greatcoat, gold-knobbed cane in hand, was the object of stares and whispers: "There goes the magnificent Mister Handel," people would say to one another, as he passed by, surprisingly fast for one so large. Usually, he was oblivious to those people: even, while on his walks, he was mentally composing. At his death, he had composed so much music, that it nearly totalled the combined output of J.S. Bach and Beethoven.

Part 2

"A Little Boy's Secret"

Once upon a time, this huge man was a little boy, in his hometown, Halle, in Germany. At a very young age, Georg Friederich Haendl showed so much musical talent that his father forbade the presence of any musical instrument in the house. His father was old (nearly 60 when Georg was born) and he was a barber/surgeon (yes, that was often a combined profession at that time) and he feared that a musical life was a road to ruin. But little Georg's older brother smuggled in a small clavichord, which he placed in the attic, where Georg would play while his father was making house-calls (you never went to the barber: he came to you), or at night. The clavichord is so soft in sound that it won't wake up sleepers. One day, little Georg accompanied his father to one of his clients, the Duke of Saxe-Weissenfels. There was a harpsichord at the Duke's palace, and the boy immediately sat down and played it. He astounded the Duke (and his father!) with his incredible artistry. The Duke insisted that he should receive musical training, and so his career began.

Part 3

"The Lucky Button"

Throughout his life, Handel was a generous fellow, honest and kind. But he did have a terrible temper. His towering rages were legendary. If not for a small button, he would never have composed Messiah or anything else. While studying music at age 18, he met another aspiring composer, Johann Mattheson, age 22, who was a fine tenor. Together, they once traveled to Luebeck, to hear the aging Buxtehude play the organ. (By the way, Bach also traveled, on foot, 200 miles, to hear this man play. Both hoped to succeed Buxtehude as organist at the old man's church. Whoever would succeed him, however, would have to marry Buxtehude's daughter. That was the stipulation. One look at Fraulein B. convinced the both of them to look elsewhere for employment.)

Anyway, about the button. Mattheson starred as Antony in his own opera Cleopatra. Haendl conducted the orchestra from the harpsichord. At times, after his character died onstage, Mattheson would jump into the orchestra pit to replace Haendl. On Dec. 5, 1704, Haendl wouldn't relinquish his position, and a shouting match ensued. The audience, amused, followed the furious friends outside and watched as they drew swords and duelled away. Mattheson's blade missed Haendl's heart only due to the small button on Haendl's coat. The sword broke. It would surely have killed Haendl. Just a month later, they appeared together in Haendl's first opera Almira. They were friends again.

Part 5

"Cardinal Sins "

Part 6

"Gorgeous Georges "

In Germany, Haendl had a patron, Georg, Elector of Hanover. After his return from Italy, Haendl served him sporadically, leaving for England, which he loved so much that he overstayed his leave of absence, which did not please the Elector. As luck would have it, Queen Anne died in 1714, and since the only remaining Stuart claimants to the throne were Catholic, and Catholics were forbidden to rule England, and Anne died childless, there was no heir to the throne. Guess who was invited to take the throne? A distant Protestant relative, Georg of Hanover, who knew not a word of English. He became George I. Haendl, who had become the court musician to Anne, must have been worried about his future, but he wrote some glorious music to welcome his old patron, and all was forgiven. Georg F. Haendl could now change his name to George F. Handel. For the rest of his life, he called England home, and learned to speak the language quite well, despite a heavy German accent. But George I was not received well by the English. He spoke only German, he was not very bright, he had a homely wife and an even homelier mistress (she was nicknamed The Maypole). Compared to him, even the Catholic Stuarts seemed preferable as far as many Britishers were concerned, and, as a matter of fact, they kept invading England to try to regain the throne for the next thirty years. The last one who tried was Bonnie Prince Charlie. The King's sister-in-law (nicknamed The Elephant) proposed a public-relations coup: the King would make a show-trip on a barge on the Thames. It was a great success. In July 1717, the royal barge floated down the river, with the King and his wife, and the Elephant and the Maypole, and his hangers-on and servants, while on another barge, Handel and his orchestra floated nearby, and performed the Water-Musick, composed especially for this event. Dozens of other floatables accompanied the barges, while the shores were lined with thousands of people. The King liked the music so much, it had to be repeated twice. The evening was a triumph for all concerned. It might have saved the throne for the Hanovers, and they are still the Royal Family today, renamed the Windsors (during WWI) And Handel was firmly in place as court composer. When George II was crowned, Handel composed four glorious Coronation Anthems for the occasion, and in 1743, following a victory over the French at Dettingen, a Te Deum. It was during the first royal performance of Messiah that George II stood up during the singing of Hallelujah!, and the audience, of course, followed suit. and ever since, audiences have stood for the Hallelujah!

Part 7

"Italian Opera on the 'Cutting Edge'"

For much of the first half of his career, Handel was a composer of Italian operas. Operas were incredibly popular in Europe, and also in England even before Handel arrived. Once he did, he churned out one after another, some forty in all. The plots of these operas were ridiculous, usually some semi-historical or mythological tale, and there was virtually no acting. Singing was everything, and each performer tried to outdo another. When a singer had finished his/her scene, he/she was likely to start talking to another cast member, or hobnob with someone in the audience, all the while someone else was singing. the audience brought in food and drink which they would consume during the performance, and there was card-playing, gambling, dice games, carousing and wenching, and lots of shouting at the singers, pro or con. People would listen to their favorites and ignore the other. The singers were a piece of work. Totally selfish, always in competition with one another. Even Handel, who usually got his way, often had to placate a singer who felt he/she didn't have enough to sing, by composing an added aria. Most arias were A-B-A, or Da Capo, with the second A being open season for the singer. The original A melody would be embellished by the singer, and he/she would do the most incredible things with it: trills, interpolations, cadenzas, etc., totally stopping the action (what there was of it), and the plot be damned. The crowd would go wild, of course, with the pro- and anti- forces often coming to blows.

The most accomplished practitioners of these vocal gymnastics were the castrati. For a few centuries, it had been the practice in Italy, especially in the service of the Church, to castrate boys with beautiful voices, so that they would remain sopranos forever. Many parents weren't at all reluctant to have this done, if they had other, healthy, sons. Sacrificing a pair of tiny body parts for the glory of the the Church might insure salvation in the hereafter, and maybe even riches on earth. They were fabulous singers, those castrati. They had the vocal power of men, combined with the agility of women's voices. For a time, they had been the exclusive performers for the Church, especially the Sistine Choir in the Vatican, as it was forbidden for women to sing there. Most soprano voices were supplied by boys, but castrati added an entirely new sound to these choirs. When opera "discovered" them, they became the rage throughout Europe and, belatedly, England, thanks to Handel, whose operas were all written with castrati in mind. Because a good solo castrato was a rarity, his service was eagerly sought, and outrageously wealthy contracts were signed . They were the most famous names of their time (Farinelli, Nicolini, Senesino, Orsini, Caffarelli). They were pampered like lap-dogs, and they were extremely vain, and, dare I say it, bitchy. All stage action would stop, and the audience would sit, transfixed, when Farinelli would hold a note for a full minute in a contest with a trumpeter or flutist who would turn purple and quit. and the singer would, without taking a breath, do trills and a cadenza. Pandemonium! Handel, hoping to make London the opera capital of Europe, broke the opera company's bankroll bringing these freaks to the English stage, and eventually opera died there, once they couldn't affort the best castrati anymore. The "cutting of boys" eventually was outlawed, and the last known castrato, Alessandro Moreschi, died in 1922. He actually made a few recordings, and I have a tape of him, singing Schubert's Ave Maria. The Sistine Choir also made a few recordings in the early 1900s, all the treble parts sung by castrati. A very strange, otherworldly sound they made!

Part 8

"'O' Stands for Standing O's for Oratorios"

For a number of years, Handel doggedly refused to believe that opera was dead in England. Female altos were recruited to replace castrati (Marilyn Horne had done much in our day to revive Handel operas, singing the roles that castrati once did. Still, seeing roly-poly Marilyn playing the part of a great general or ardent lover does stretch belief a bit.) (Nowadays, there are numerous countertenors who are doing what Horne did twenty years ago.) But putting too many women on stage in costume was also risky. There was a lot of hair-pulling and nail-scratching those days, during performances as well as backstage. Handel's last opera was Xerxes, whose famous Largo ("Ombra mai fu") was the hit tune. It was composed in 1738, a year after Handel had a stroke and nearly died. Thank God, he did not.

To replace operas, Handel started composing oratorios. They were much more economical. No stage sets, no costumes. A full choir cost less than a superstar singer, and a religious theme would discourage vocal show-offs. The choir now became the focus, rather than the soloists, and probably no one, not even Bach, wrote as many glorious choruses as did Handel. The English public lapped it up. Ever since, the British have loved oratorios. Handel quickly found out that Old Testament subjects would attract large audiences, both Christian and Jewish. Thus, most of his oratorios have Old Testament themes: Samson; Israel in Egypt; Judas Maccabaeus; Joshua; Jephtha; Saul; Solomon; Judith; Esther; Deborah. He wrote only one with a Christian theme: Theodora, and it flopped. And then, of course, there was Messiah.

Part 9

"Some Notes on MESSIAH"

The first notes of Messiah were written on August 22, 1741, and, only 23 days later, it was finished. The speed with which Handel composed this seems astonishing. Yet, Handel wrote with lightning speed in many other instances. What was different here was his behavior. A manservant who brought him his meals told of numerous instances of the food not having been touched (and Handel was not one to pass up a meal), and that at times he found the great man in tears. Handel himself told a friend later that, while writing Messiah, he "did think I did see Heaven before me, and the great God Himself". It must be said that in numerous choruses and solos he used music that he had written previously (a not-uncommon habit in those days when composers were told they'd better have a piece ready in a short time). Still, the speed in composing this work is amazing. Charles Jannings was his librettist for Messiah.

Have you ever paged through the entire score and seen the origin of the words? Numbers 1-12 are from the Old Testament, mostly prophecy. The short #s 14-17 deal with the announcement of Jesus' birth to the shepheds, from Luke 2. #18 and 19 are prophecy, and "He shall feed" (#20) is actually from Isaiah. Part One's final segment ("His yoke is easy") is actually the only direct quote from Jesus (Matt. 11:30), and even that is in the 3rd person, whereas Jesus uses the 1st ("My yoke is easy and my burden is light").

Part Two begins with a quote from John the Baptist as he is about to baptize Jesus. #23-26 are all from Isaiah's prophecy, and #27-33 quote other Old Testament passages, several of them Psalms. Seldom-performed #34,35 quote the Epistle to the Hebrews (N.T.), then #37 is Psalms again. #38 and 39 quote Romans, but 40-43 are Old Testament again (Psalms). "Hallelujah!" looks to the future (Revelation), ending Part Two.

Part Three starts with a brilliant stroke: Job's faith that, despite all, his Redeemer lives (O.T.) and 1st Corinthians (N.T.) fulfillment ("Now is Christ risen from the dead"). The rest of the work quotes the New Testament.

To sum up, very little in Messiah has to do with the life of Christ. Only one small section deals with Jesus's birth. Only one quotation of Christ is evident in the entire work (#21). Outside of the Baptist's words, (#22) and the Angels' (#17), there are no other direct quotations of any other kind. Jesus' suffering is alluded to, but only through prophecy (#27-32)

Thus, this is no dramatic oratorio. It deals with prophecy fulfilled and a look to the future. Not at all like the "you-are-there" oratorios of Bach (Christmas Oratorio and the Passions) in which we are placed right in the middle of the drama of Christ's birth and death. Bach quotes Luke, Matthew, and John word-for-word in his dramas. Isn't it interesting that the very theatrical Mr. Handel treats Messiah with such lack of dramatics, and that the comparatively dull Herr Bach pours out his emotions in his stories of Jesus?

In the midst of composing Messiah, Handel received an invitation to present some of his works in Dublin, from a William Cavendish, Lord Lieutenant of Ireland. So it was that Messiah was first given in that city. It was not uncommon for charitable organizations to sponsor concerts, and Messiah's first beneficiaries were the prisoners of Dublin jails. Many subsequent performances were to benefit the Foundling Hospital.

The also soloist for the premiere was Susannah Cibber, the daughter of the famous composer Thomas Arne, and a woman of less than sterling reputation in her moral life. When she finished the aria "He was despised", an Anglican clergyman cried out from the audience: "Woman, for this thy sins be forgiven thee!"

At one of the early Messiah performances, King George II was present. As the Hallelujah Chorus began, he rose, and, because of that, everyone else in the audience did, likewise. It is not known why he rose: maybe he was tired from sitting, maybe he was overcome with religious fervor, who knows. But, from that time on, it has been customary for the audience to stand up when "Hallelujah" is sung.

Handel went blind in 1751. He finished Jephtha, but composed no more after that. He continued playing the organ, and he attended performances of his oratorios, sometimes conducting them. The people pities their great hero for his infirmity, and when, in the oratorio Samson, the title character sang: "Total eclipse: no sun, no moon, all dark amid the blaze of noon", there were few dry eyes in the house.
The great man died on April 14, 1759, at age 74, and there was real grief all over England. He was buried with great honors in Westmister Abbey, and, to this day, it is among the most visible and most visited tombs in that most honored burial site in Great Britain.

—Josiah Tazelaar