L’Enfance du Christ

Usher Hall 27/11/25

Scottish Chamber Orchestra, conductor Maxim Emalyanychev

SCO Chorus, director Gregory Batsleer

Paula Murrihy soprano, Andrew Staples, tenor, Roderick Williams, baritone, Callum Thorpe, bass

The creation of his sacred oratorio ‘L’Enfance du Christ’ seemed to take Hector Berlioz by surprise, and for any audience not entirely familiar with the work, the oratorio also makes its effects stealthily. In 1850 Berlioz scribbled down some bars for a friend, and in 1852, announced that the expanded version ( known  as ‘The Flight to Egypt’), was a recently discovered work by an 18th century composer. Its simplicity was praised, as was its difference from the ‘complicated’ music written by Berlioz who was often out of favour in Paris.  Part of this section, the lilting ‘Shepherds’ Farewell’ remains the most recognisable and most frequently played part of the oratorio.

The work in three sections, was completed and received its first performance in December 1854, to rapturous applause for Berlioz. It is written for full orchestra, mixed choir and between four and six soloists; Berlioz wrote his own libretto following the words of St Matthew’s Gospel. Tonight there are no surtitles and the audience follows the text on phones or printed programmes – though I find the printed text too light to be easily read once the Usher Hall lights are dimmed.  The orchestra is initially fifty strong – unusually this is a work which requires fewer players as it goes on. As this is a dramatic oratorio, Maxim Emelyanychev has decided that the soloists will sing, and move on and off the front of the stage – not, as has become the practice, immediately in front of the chorus. It’s not semi- staged – the singers sing from scores which they place on stands -but this practice works well in highlighting the words and emotions of the participants.

‘L’enfance du Christ’ starts in media res, with Herod’s dilemma. The king, a puppet of the Roman state, is “an insomniac little Jewish Prince” to the two Roman soldiers who guard him, and so nervous has he become from dreaming of the unknown child who is to usurp him that he calls in the soothsayers. All the singers on stage are male, and the orchestra contains natural horns and trumpets, cornets, trombones and timpani. We seem set for a martial representation of the might of the Roman Empire, but this doesn’t happen. Andrew Staples narration is warm and clear, and the tension in the fugal orchestration leading up to Herod’s aria suggests unease but no more. A burst of brass introduces the king,  although the aria, delivered in Callum Thorpe’s magnificent bass voice almost evokes pity. Only after the soothsayers (the male chorus’s first appearance) have listened to Herod, and have danced their “cabalistic” rites in a strange seven-beat rhythm with  a shrieking piccolo does Herod lose his grip, and we hear his anger and the force of the orchestra, which concludes with a trumpet fanfare.

 The scene shifts, cinematically, as one commentator called it, to the stable in Bethlehem.  Mary’s aria of love and serenity is the antithesis of Herod’s bile. It’s accompanied by strings and woodwinds, departing briefly from legato smoothness into a dance rhythm as Joseph joins her.  Paula Murrihy and Roderick Willimas are at the heart of this performance. With no straining for effect, they proclaim warmth and tenderness, with an underlying strength.   Offstage angels (some of the women choristers accompanied by a small organ) ) deliver a warning to Mary and Joseph – the spirits of light are invoked here, very different from the spirits of darkness whom Herod and the soothsayers have disturbed.

Parts two and three after the interval use a more compact orchestra The brass instruments have left, and although the timpani remains they’re only played once, in part three. Section two is short:’ The Flight into Egypt’s orchestral Overture, the Shepherds’ chorus and the Narrator’s solo are bound together by serene pastoral sounds, dominated by upper strings, and upper woodwinds.  The overture has interludes for a woodwind quartet , and the cor anglais provides the repeated refrain in the Shepherds’ song. Andrew Staples as a reassuring narrator links part two and part three– in the former, his description of the Holy Family at rest emphasises the peace of earth and heaven in the recurring offstage angels’ chorus. In contrast his description of their three-day journey despite its Christmas carol-like opening, is brisker, with the cello doubling the tenor’s notes. More ominous chords accompany the end of his aria, before Mary expresses her terror and Joseph asks for help. The unison chorus (residents of Sais) are loud in denouncing them as Jews. Timpani represent the door-knocking.  This, the lowest point in Mary and Joseph’s travels is sparsely accompanied, with harp and flute the dominant sounds.

At last their pleas are answered. The next house contains a family of Ismaelites (unbelievers) who welcome them in a joyful fugue, their busy-ness around the house continuing in the bustling strings. Callum Thorpe’s reassuring tones arerwell-suited to the Father of the house, and his harmony with the couple extends to his sharing a trade, that of carpenter, with Joseph. Flutes and harp create a delightful domestic interlude (Claire Wickes and Carolina Patricia, both guest flautists with Eleanor Hudson on harp). Maxim Emelyanychev sits and listens, with obvious enjoyment.

The last narration takes us from the practicalities of the Holy Family’s 10 years in Egypt to the spiritual meaning of Christ’s life and death, and the inward reflections of the oratorio’s end are expressed in an unaccompanied moving passage for chorus and soloist.

This gentle oratorio has been a beautiful start to the SCO’s Christmas celebrations. Next week Maxim Emelyanychev and the orchestra are back at the Usher Hall for ‘The Nutcracker’.  The celeste is being tuned and polished in readiness…