Benjamin Britten:
Rejoice in the Lamb

Text by Ahmed E. Ismail

One would have to go back to the great Henry Purcell to find a British composer with so meteoric a career as Benjamin Britten (1913-1976). A student of Frank Bridge at the Royal College of Music, he had by age thirty achieved the same prominence as Ralph Vaughan Williams, the doyen of British music at the time, who was nearly forty years his senior. In addition to his many song cycles and choral works, he was also renowned as a conductor and accompanist, not only of his own works but of neglected masterpieces of composers such as Bach, Mozart, and Schumann. Britten's "apprenticeship," including work for the British Post Office, honed his ability to achieve maximum effects from the barest of resources, as can be seen from his many works for chamber ensembles, notably the "chamber operas" The Turn of the Screw and The Rape of Lucretia.

Like many of his shorter works, Britten's 1943 cantata Rejoice in the Lamb was written on commission, this time by Rev. William Hussey to mark the fiftieth anniversary of the consecration of St. Matthew's church in Northampton, England. It also marked his first significant work since returning to England after a self-imposed three-year exile in America to avoid both World War II and the expected military service, which went against his pacifist beliefs.

The libretto is drawn from Jubilate Agno, a long free-verse manuscript written by Christopher Smart between 1758 and 1763. This was not the happiest period in the life of the poet, who was institutionalized in an asylum at the time; this may account for the fragmentary nature of the manuscript, of which only thirty-two pages survive. These extant pages are a curious mixture of the profound and the profane, alternating between moving sections on man's suffering and random wishes and observations such as "God send me a neighbour this September" and "N. B. The hawk beat the raven St. Luke's day 1762." Britten's affection for the text, however cryptic and confusing, is abundantly clear, judging by his setting, and his request that excerpts be read at his memorial service.

Scored for choir, four soloists, and organ, Rejoice in the Lamb can be roughly divided into three "movements" containing a total of ten sections. The opening section, "Rejoice in the Lamb," starts with a bare middle C played on the organ, followed by the entrance of the entire choir on the same middle C. The choir remains on middle C until the words "magnify his name together"; the upwards movement here appears a herculean effort. This segues immediately into a jaunty processional, marked "with vigour," in which various Biblical figures are paired with members of the animal kingdom to celebrate the majesty of God. Following this is a "Hallelujah," but not one in the stentorian mode of Händel's Messiah or Walton's Belshazzar's Feast: instead we have a slow, quiet song in praise of God "the artist inimitable."

The "slow movement" introduces the four soloists. The first soloist announces "For I will consider my Cat Jeoffry," and then proceeds to list his various qualities, with a sinuous, almost feline accompaniment from the organ. After lauding the cat's virtues, Britten cleverly merges disparate parts of the manuscript to make Jeoffry the villain of the next section, the alto's "For the mouse is a creature of great personal valor," with a scurrying figure on the organ suggesting the bravado of a valiant mouse (in shining armor?). From this emerges the tenor, who meditates on the nature of flowers.

Now comes the most remarkable moment in the entire work, "For I am under the same accusation as my Saviour," as we finally hear the anguish of the poet--the same religious mania that led to his being committed in 1758. At first we think we have returned to the music of the opening of the work, yet by slow degrees, Britten ratchets the tension, until the thunderous impact of the watchman's staff is felt, and the lament "Silly fellow Silly fellow is against me," out of which emerges the contrapuntal section "For I am in twelve hardships," with its tortured, chromatic melodic lines.

The eighth section, for bass soloist, creates the bridge to the final part of the cantata, based on alliteration of the alphabet, with each of his lines ending "and therefore He is God." The ninth section, sung largely over a pedal F, lists various musical instruments and their "rhimes," before shifting focus to the trumpet and harp, the "instruments of Heav'n." The final section is a repetition of the "Hallelujah" of section three, bringing us full circle to a quiet, yet joyful, conclusion.