Handel’s Jephtha was his last original English oratorio, composed in 1751 and drawing on the Old Testament, characteristically describing a victory of Israelites over heathenish others. In this case, however, the main theme is Jephtha’s vow, in which the eponymous new leader of the Israelites promises God that, in return for a victory, he will offer up the first thing he sees after his safe return as conqueror. This just happens to be his daughter, his only child, unnamed in the Bible but here called Iphis (cf. Iphigenia). In the biblical version he carries out his vow and thus she dies (although this is open to interpretation), but in Thomas Morell’s libretto for Handel she is saved by an angelic intervention consequent on her remaining a virgin dedicated to God for the rest of her life. The deeper theological aspects of this decision and their historical context, as well as its dramaturgical effect, have been well explored by Handel scholar Ruth Smith.
With respect to the current French Handel Festival theme, while there are some French antecedents to the work, eg Montéclair’s Jepthté (1732), perhaps the Frenchest thing about this performance was the conductor Christophe Rousset and his celebrated period instrument ensemble Les Talens Lyriques. Jepththa, along with Saul, is generally reckoned one of Handel’s most dramatic oratorios, although on this occasion, while one could not complain about the musical values, the drama did not fully flourish until the second half. While written in three acts, the performance, while allowing brief tuning pauses between said acts, had a full interval half way through Act 2 after the chorus “In glory high”.
As with last week's Athalia, the performance was presented in full conventional oratorio format: chorus in tiers at the back, orchestra occupying centre stage, soloists with scores seated at the sides and moving to the front for their individual contributions. Here the choir was smaller, some 22 members, and the better for it, sounding more clearly articulated and more penetrating. Rousset kept things going with brisk momentum, no pauses apart from the three formal ones, with a rich reverberant sound from the strings in particular.
In the title role, originated by Handel’s favourite tenor John Beard, Jeremy Ovenden turned in a heartfelt performance, with a clear, well-deployed tenor, tender when appropriate, displaying steel when necessary and holding the silence with “and she dies”. Tim Mead was a good choice for Hamor, exemplifying the best qualities of an English countertenor, with a sweet toned, soft-grained voice, but convincing as the serious self-effacing lover. As Zebul, bass Edwin Crossley-Mercer exuded authority and a rich resonant bass, even down to the lowest notes, dispatching passagework with easy flexibility.