how it is done

a night of Handel

Our trips to London invariably revolve around music because this city offers such consistently high caliber performances along with venues offering genteel respites from the day-to-day upheavals. MESSIAH is my all-time favorite so my husband generously assures it becomes the de facto centerpiece of our time, invariably at St. Martin-in-the-Field across from Trafalgar Square and Lord Nelson’s statute.

This year was no exception, although this was performance would cap our concluding day of the trip. We spent the morning walking from Buckingham Palace across the southern path of St. James’s Park in hopes of seeing pelicans as we did two years ago (they were too busy preening to be walking this year). My husband painted a quick watercolor piece but it was a somewhat dreary day in anticipation of rain.

We booked the seats in May but received an update before departing Annapolis to assure we were in our seats by 1920 for a 1930 performance to last three hours. We noticed the gates were still closed upon arrival but ascribed it to heightened security after Bondi Beach, particularly with an enormous blue and white Menorah lit in Trafalgar Square. The queue began forming at 1845 since the doors were to open at 1900.

We found our seats had a clear view of the performers location, to our delight. We are not selfie folks but I even whipped out a couple of shots of us to celebrate our attendance, seat location and the event.

My husband noted, however, that something must be going on as things were understatedly scripted.

Imagine our surprise when King Charles walked in, unannounced. He had a couple of people with him but hardly a phalanx of security (I am sure they were there, probably what my husband had sensed). The King was there as an audience member. The overwhelming majority of people never noticed his arrival.

I actually thought perhaps it was some other Windsor until he receded as the intermission began. No, it was indeed the King sans the Queen.

No one ever announced him. No “God Save the King” resonated. No welcome to our humble concert. No “you are the patron of St. Martin-in-the-Fields”. Nada. His seat in the front row, along with being first out and last into the church, offered the sole indications of his stature.

The focus of the evening was MESSIAH, delivered most exquisitely by the Monteverdi Choir & Orchestra under the baton of Christophe Rousset. The music was spell-binding.

The standing ovation went on and on and on and on.

The King receded a second time from the sanctuary without a word although the audience had begun to recognize him. The gentleman behind us had never known the King was there until his wife and other seat mate were incredulous he had missed it all.

Actions, of all types, create consequences: MESSIAH shone and retained center stage. Roughly five hundred of us savored the glory of the oratorio as individuals and as a collective, despite one being the monarch.

This was a night to remember for so many reasons.

Find a venue for MESSIAH as it is worth every second of its remarkable music, especially if you can get to St. Martin’s but Handel’s masterpiece is worth it any time or any place.

Thank you for reading Actions today or any day. I appreciate your time, your support, your criticisms, and your interest.

Be well and be safe. FIN