Incomplete And Utter History Of Classical Music

ARNE STORMING!

homas Arne was only thirty years old when he produced the one tune that has become one half of what he is remembered for today. This Eton-educated would-be lawyer had been forced to practise on a muffled harpsichord, in order that his dad didn't discover him pursuing his music.

Eventually, though, he came out of the composers' closet - jeep-ers, it must have been crowded in there - and, with his father's blessing, became a successful composer. It was in 1740 that he produced his stage play with music, Alfred, from which comes the now evergreen 'Rule Britannia'. The other half of his claim to fame is that he's part of a sort of musician's slang, alongside Edward Elgar, used in order to suggest that someone doesn't know their stuff. As in… 'He doesn't know bis Arne from his Elgar'.

Thomas Arne premiered 'Rule B.' in front of the Prince of Wales at Cliveden. Which leads me on to a useful question: who does rule the waves, as it were, in 1742? 'IN DUBLIN'S FAIR CITY, HANDEL MEETS THE COMMITTEE…'

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et's zoom out and go global, then zoom back in again. Global first. Frederick the Great-'3 of Prussia has got his cue for his liltcen minutes of fame, or, to be more precise, forty-six years of fame. And before we zoom back in, what else has happened? Well, the Pope lias got all hot under the collar about Freemasonry. Doesn't like it. Doesn't like it one bit. In fact, he's issued a papal bull about it along the lines of 'What's with all this closed shop practices, silly costumes and odd ceremonies!' Well, you can see why he feels threatened.

Zooming back in, slowly, there's the Swiss astronomer, Anders (xlcius, who, just this year, has invented the 'centigrade' thermometer, just some six years after Gabriel Fahrenheit had died.^ Closer to home, Britain has gained censorship on the stage, with all new work having to go before the Lord Chamberlain. This doesn't stop David Garrick from having a much-acclaimed London debut as Richard III, though. Dick Turpin, the man who demanded outrageous amounts of money while people were in the middle of their journeys, has been and gone, although, today, numerous cafes alongside the Al do their best to keep his memory alive.

Musically, though, Handel is about to offer up an oratorio form of the words, 'You ain't seen nothing, yet' while on a trip to Dublin. He'd been invited to the Irish capital by the Duke of Devonshire, for a charity gig, and had accepted readily. He'd recently lost around ten grand in an Italian opera company that had gone pits-up, so he was very keen to do well as a 'continental star' in Ireland.

He'd gone there with the intention of just doing a few concerts, making some good money, and leaving. In the end, though, his reception was so favourable that he stayed nine months, in a rented house in Abbey Street, and doubled the planned number of concerts from fi If I could digress at this point, it would be to say: the naming committee. Who are they? I mean the people who come up with the descriptions to go with world leaders. Frederick… THE GREAT. Ivan… THE TERRIBIE. I mean, who says Ivan was terrible? Surely that's a matter of opinion? Granted, there are some that are more or less indisputable. like Attila… THE HUN. Robert… THE BR UCE. St James… THE DISMEMBERED. (Poorguy, I imagine he pretty much had to earn that name. Ewwl) But… THE TERRIBLE. Who says so? Vve never seen an ad in the paper recruiting for members on the world leaders' naming committee! I've never seen a laminated sign pinned to a tree, like planning permission, inviting comments of proposed future names. SO WHO SATS? And why not Ivan… THE LOUSY. Or Peter… THE OBJECTIONABLE. Frederick… the WELL HE WAS OK BUT NOTHING SPECIAL! And, while Fm on the subject, poor old Ethelred. Just because he came down to answer the door in his jim-jams. Very unfair. Anyway, I digress, sorry. But at least I told you I would, fi fi Gabriel Fahrenheit died aged fifty, but nothing could dissuade him from his belief that he was actually 122. six to twelve. During his stay, Handel grew increasingly respectful of the local musicians. This changed his preconceived idea that they would not be able to pull off the new oratorio that he'd been working on. So he put an ad in the Dublin Journal on 27 March that year. For the relief of the prisoners in the several gaols, and for the support of Mercers Hospital in Stephens St, and of the Charitable Infirmary on the Inn's Quay, on Monday the 12th of April, will be performed at the Musick Hall in Fishamble St, Mr Handel's new Grand Oratorio, calEJ the MESSIAH, in which Gentlemen of the Choirs of both Cathedrals will assist, with some Concertoes on the Organ, by Mr Handel. Seven hundred people attended the premiere, in a hall made for 600. Paper reviews were effusive. 'In the opinion of the best judges, the work far surpasses anything of that nature which has been performed in this or any other kingdom.'

And so was born one of the great legends of music. Some say he wrote it in twenty-five days, some say less - eighteen, even. All that is certain is that he had a huge hit on his hands in Dublin that year. He went on to try and clone the success of the Messiah with a string of others: Semele, Judas Maccabaeus, Joshua, Solomon, Ernest meets the Tickle-Monsters®… sorry, mixed up my notes.