Remember Him, Too....

He’s a composer who carries a significant emotional heft. Which is to say that you think of him as a cheerful, buoyant composer, and then he comes around and knocks you off your feet with music that is heart-breaking sad.

Henry Purcell, who spanned the last half of the 17^th century, was born and died in London, and seems to have been well-liked—there are a handful of odes written after his death in his honor, by Jeremiah Clarke and John Blow among others. He made his livelihood for many years as organist for Westminster Abbey, a position available because his teacher, John Blow, resigned it in favor of his pupil. Before and after he composed secular works—nearly the first opera in English, songs, music for the theater.

And there’s a lot of music—much of it I didn’t know. The Te Deum, for example, written only a year before his death—what a piece! And why had I never heard it? It was, according to Wikipedia, performed annually in St. Paul’s Cathedral until 1712. It’s the first Te Deum with orchestra in England; even now it’s fresh and powerful.

Then there are the songs for lute and voice. Here, I was on slightly more familiar ground—or so I though: I’d been listening to the soprano Emma Kirkby and lutenist Anthony Rooley. Well, then I chanced on—you’ll see why this came in—Michael Chance. And what a find—as one of the comments I read stated, he pretty much owns the songs for lute and voice. Here he is in a famous song, Music for a While. Here are the lyrics.

Music for a while

Shall all your cares beguile.

Wond’ring how your pains were eas’d

And disdainingto be pleas’d.

Till Alecto free the dead

From their eternal bands,

Till the snakes drop from her hands

And the whip from out her hands.

Or how about the Evening Hymn? As great as Kirkby’s interpretation is, I like the timbre of Chance’s voice, and the lush background of the strings make this version tremendous. Here are the lyrics.

Now, now, that the sun hath veil’d his light,

And bid the world good night,

To the soft bed,

My body I dispose.

But where, where shall my soul repose,

Dear, dear God, even in thy arms.

And can there be any so sweet security.

Then to thy rest, O my soul,

And singing praise of mercy that prolongs thy days.

Hallelujah! 

But as great as the songs are, as the choral works are, I think it’s the dramatic works that really wrench the listener. There’s the “plaint” from The Fairy Queen, written in 1692 just three years before Purcell’s death in 1695. The “opera” is drawn from Shakespeare’s Midsummer Night’s Dream, and consists of masques that figuratively illustrate the mood of the libretto (a slightly reworked version of the play).

And we almost didn’t have this music at all—after the first performance, the score went missing and was only discovered in the early 20^th century. Even then, it wasn’t much performed, since there wasn’t a lot of interest in baroque opera, and especially because there weren’t the voices to do it.

Then, along came Alfred Deller, who virtually single handedly revived the tradition of the countertenor, as well as, with Vaughan Williams, the English folksong.

The clip below is sung by the remarkable French countertenor, Philippe Jarousky.

Last and absolutely not least, there’s certainly one of the saddest arias in all music, Dido’s Lament. You remember the story—Aeneas is blown off course on his journey, and lands in Carthage, where Dido rules as queen. They have a love affair, and then Aeneas must return. Distraught, Dido orders a pyre built, and prepares to die.

Not before singing words that will sear your heart:

When I am laid, am laid in earth, May my wrongs create

No trouble, no trouble in thy breast,

Remember me, remember me, but ah! Forget my fate

Remember me, but ah, forget my fate!