CHAPTER XIV

HANDEL AND THE ORATORIO

The consequences of the seventeenth century: Bach and Handel--Handel’s early life; the opera at Hamburg; the German oratorio--The Italian period, 'Rodrigo,’ 'Agrippina,’ and 'Resurrezione’--Music in England; Handel as opera composer and impresario--Origins of the Handelian oratorio; from 'Esther’ to 'The Messiah’--Handel’s instrumental music; conclusion.

In myriad ways the seventeenth century had wrought a mighty task. Founding their practice upon the technique acquired by previous generations, its composers had evolved definite styles of composition, both in the polyphonic and the monodic schools. The demand for greater sonority had caused them to exploit the harmonic resources of music more than before; the perfection of instruments and instrumental technique had stimulated melodic invention and rhythmic variety, and this increased technique had in turn been applied to vocal music, which, beginning with Caccini in 1600, had developed a marvellous virtuosity demanding ever greater means of display. While the old vocal polyphony had largely yielded its sway to the more individualistic art of solo singing, its technique and ideals were preserved in the instrumental forms of chamber music, which, as we have seen, crystallized during the course of the century, and, as the same composers were bound to essay both styles, a union of the two had, in a measure, been effected.

In such a period of transition there was little chance for ultimate perfection; it was an age of innovators rather than masters. Yet the century had produced some great men, too: Alessandro Scarlatti and Arcangelo Corelli in Italy, Lully, Rameau and Couperin in France, Schütz, Froberger, and Kuhnau were men of no small attainments. Their work had sufficient power and charm to gain acceptance for the new styles and to popularize them. But it remained for another generation to bring forth two men great enough to make them survive through posterity, to give them lasting life. Those two men were Georg Friedrich Handel and Johann Sebastian Bach. It is notable that both came of the same spiritual stock, that of the Thuringian church organists--that contemplative, sequestered school of artists,--imbued with a homely philosophy and influenced by the sweet quietude of German domesticity,--which wrought for the glory of God and the uplift of the human soul. Handel[141] and Bach were born within one month of each other, and within a very short distance, for Eisenach is less than an hour’s run from Halle, where Handel saw the light of day, February 23d, 1685. They were as nearly contemporaries, in the literal sense, as men can be--Bach died but nine years before his colleague,--but in spirit they were generations removed from one another. Curious as it is that they never in their life met, though well acquainted with each other’s work, we may find a psychological explanation for the fact in that Handel represented the spirit and apogee of his age, summing up the achievements of the generations immediately gone before, while Bach, penetrating into the very essence of the music of past ages, evolved from it a new art that should inspire the musicians of generations to come, that should go surging down through the centuries like a mighty everlasting stream from which the genius of composers could draw continuous inspiration without the danger of exhaustion, an art so great that it had to break all the shackles and restrictions of its time and build for itself a new system, create a new language.

I

Who shall say which of the two men had the greater talent? Their difference is one of character, not of degree. Bach, exploring quietly the resources of his own soul, hardly stirred from his narrow surroundings; Handel, of infinite flexibility and adaptability, appropriated every style, every trick, every brilliant effect he heard, imbuing it with new power. Restlessly he roamed to Berlin and Hamburg, to Italy, and finally to England, everywhere sweeping up in his mighty grasp the achievements of men gone before him, indefatigably composing and rousing a wondering world to new enthusiasms. Bach, unmindful of the public taste, retiring, profound, inexorable; Handel constantly trimming his sails to the wind of public favor, achieving success after success, not by new means, but by using those at his command with the full power of genius. From early youth he felt the stirrings of that genius; before he was seven, indeed, he had taught himself to play upon the harpsichord,--surreptitiously, we are told, for his father, village surgeon at Giebichenstein, near Halle, intent upon the social advancement of his son, was so fearful of his son’s developing a 'non-productive’ talent that he even refused to send him to school, lest he should learn his notes. Well known is the story of how admiring friends smuggled the harpsichord into the garret, where young Georg would delight his heart in the still hours of the night. No less known, also, are the circumstances of his father’s journey to the court of Saxe-Weissenfels, where a son by a former marriage was _valet-de-chambre_ to the duke. Young Handel insisted on following the carriage on foot until his father relented and took him to the court, where he came in contact with the duke’s musicians and was permitted to play upon the organ. It was at the duke’s peremptory advice that the father finally consented to give his boy a musical training. F. W. Zachau, the organist of the _Liebfrauenkirche_, which raises its tall spires in the market-place of Halle, where opposite it we now behold Handel’s monument, became his master. For three years he was made to compose a sacred motet every week, by way of exercise. When, in 1696, Handel was sent on a visit to Berlin, he already astounded musicians like Attilio Ariosti by his powers of improvisation, though the famous Bononcini, who was later to become his bitter rival, seems already to have looked upon the boy with suspicion, for he gave him the difficult test of playing a newly composed fugue at sight, which Handel promptly fulfilled. The elector of Brandenburg desired to attach him to his court and send him to Italy for further study, but to forestall this he was summoned to return home, and again placed in charge of the competent Zachau. In the next year his father died, and, obliged to support himself and his mother, he secured, on probation, the post of organist at the _Dom- und Schlosskirche_, at the same time entering the university--that university so closely identified with Protestant theology--as a student.

Handel’s nature was not one to tolerate the comparative seclusion and retirement of Halle for long. Moreover, it inclined to a style of music less austere than that of the Lutheran church--so that when echoes of quite a different school, joined to reports of brilliant successes, reached his ears, he gave them ready heed. Such reports came from Hamburg, now the chief stronghold of Italian opera in Germany. In order to explain its existence we must for a moment turn the reader’s mind back to the already related importation of opera into Germany in 1627 and its first exponent there--Heinrich Schütz. This event had been followed by operatic performances--in Italian--at Regensburg (_L’inganno d’amore_, by Ferrari, 1653); Vienna (Antonio Draghi’s _Alcindo_ and _Cloridia_, 1655); and Munich (Giulio Riva’s _Adelaida Regia Principiosa di Susa_). But no further attempt at opera in German was made till the appearance at Hamburg of Johann Teile’s singspiel, _Adam und Eva_, in 1678. By virtue of this composer’s efforts Hamburg attained the operatic supremacy of Germany. Names now all but forgotten, Johann Förtsch, Johann Franck, Johann Cousser, were staunch pioneers in the cause of German art at this northern output, though their Germanism no doubt suffered a generous admixture of Italian influence. The same is true of the work of the triumvirate of the Hamburg opera--Keiser, Mattheson, and Telemann--which held sway there from the early sixties on. The first of these produced no less than 116, and probably more, operas for Hamburg during 1694-1734. To him especially the opera house owed its word-wide fame--to his work as impresario perhaps more than as composer, for, from _Basilius_ (first performed at Wolfenbüttel in 1693 and the next year in Hamburg) to _Circe_, his swan song of forty years after, all the works that were able to arouse enthusiasm in his time are but names to us. Nevertheless Keiser may well count as having placed German opera upon a firm foundation. The style of his works, rediscovered in 1810, is more German than that of his colleagues and, though less remarkable for rhetorical perfection, compares favorably with Lully’s in the matter of variety of expression and dramatic truth.

Handel had already met Telemann, Keiser’s colleague, who passed through Halle in 1701, and it was not unlikely that he received from that exponent of the operatic style an impulse toward greater melodiousness than he was likely to receive from Zachau. Agostino Steffani, another melodist, also visited Halle in 1703. In the same year we see Handel set out for Hamburg, in order to have himself thoroughly 'made over’ under the influence of its famous operatic school. He joined the orchestra of Keiser’s Opera House as _violino ripieno_, passing himself off as a novice, but, when Keiser went into hiding from his creditors, Handel promptly took his place at the harpsichord and shone forth as conductor so brilliantly that he was retained upon Keiser’s return. Here he also met Mattheson, the brilliant composer and theorist, then slightly older than himself. An anecdote of their early friendship recounts how the two went to Lübeck to apply for an organist’s position, but speedily returned when they learned that the new incumbent was obliged to marry his predecessor’s daughter. This friendship came to a sudden end when, during a performance of Mattheson’s 'Cleopatra,’ in which the composer was wont to conduct and also to sing the rôle of Antonio while Handel substituted at the harpsichord. Upon one occasion the latter stubbornly refused to yield his place, after the supposed death of Antonio, to the resuscitated hero, and a quarrel ensued, resulting in a duel in which it is said Handel’s life was barely saved by the protection afforded by a brass button.

It was not long before Handel made his own début in opera: both 'Almira’ and 'Nero’ were produced in 1705. Keiser’s influence is felt in these works. They are distinguished by much of the melodious charm which has saved the favorite _Lascia ch’io pianga_ from oblivion. This rare gem was originally composed as a sarabande in one of Handel’s early chamber works; its use in the opera preludes what was to become a common practice with Handel in musical economy. That Keiser was already jealous of his young rival is evidenced by the fact that he himself reset the libretto of 'Nero’ and performed it at the Hamburg opera in place of Handel’s.

We may remind the reader at this point that the German opera in Hamburg, despite its many incongruities, was the only opera at that time aiming at dramatic fidelity. Public taste had run to vocalization pure and simple, and singers were the sole arbiters of operatic style. In the Hamburg opera the recitatives, which fully explained the story, were sung in German, while the arias, in the prevailing florid Italian style, were sung in Italian, as the vernacular was not considered a suitable medium for vocal display. The orchestra was a combination of instruments aiming at quantitative rather than qualitative sonority, the string body consisting of two violin parts, and 'cellos and basses playing in unison, while the wood wind--chiefly oboes and bassoons--usually doubled the string parts. What the effect must have been can be imagined when we consider that in one of Handel’s operas he used twenty-six oboes, while there were but six flutes, generally used only as an obbligato instrument. The harmonic basis was furnished, as in the oldest Italian operas, by the Figured Bass played upon the harpsichord, which formed the centre of the orchestra. Two other Handel operas were performed at Hamburg during 1705-1706, namely, 'Daphne’ and 'Florinda.’ In the latter year we already see him on his way to Italy.

In the meantime, however, Handel had essayed another form of composition then popular in Germany--the passion oratorio. The Lutheran church had adopted from the Catholic the practice of reciting the history of the passion at vespers during holy week. This had given an opportunity to composers for a peculiarly profound religious expression in music. Heinrich Schütz must be named as the chief representative of passion music before Bach, though nearly sixty works of similar character have been preserved to us from before his time. The narrative was divided into three parts representing Christ, the Evangelist, and the people, which originally had been sung in chorus, but, with the rise of monody, the first two were chanted by single voices. Except a few introductory words, the entire text was made up of scriptural narrative, but later the beautiful chorale tunes sung by the Lutheran congregation were interspersed by way of reflective comment. This all became so fast-bound a convention that when Keiser produced his passion set to the words of Menantes at Hamburg in 1704 the church censured him severely for omitting the chorale element. Entirely original music had been used for the passion service, however, as early as 1672 by Sebastiani.

Handel’s _Ein kleines Passions-Oratorium_, composed in 1704, was arranged from the Gospel of St. John, into which he introduced contemplative airs, instead of chorales. The chorus is mostly in five parts; the part of Pilate is taken by an alto, Christ by a tenor, and the Evangelist by a bass. He introduces a more elaborate accompaniment for the dramatically heightened _ecce homo_ passage, while the biblical speeches are set in aria form. There are also duets, and a fugato chorus is sung by the soldiers casting lots for the vestment. The passion poems written by Brockes about this time were set to music no less than thirty times between 1712 and 1727 and among the most important of these is one by Handel written in 1716 while in attendance upon the elector at Hanover, to which we shall recur later. Suffice it to say that with every new work, such as Keiser’s, the dramatic element becomes more prominent. The meditative portions are now allotted to a definite character, such as 'Daughter of Zion,’ or a 'Faithful Soul,’ to be superseded still later by Mary Magdalen, the Disciple, the Virgin, etc. It may be said, then, to approach more nearly to the form of the oratorio, which, as we have seen in a previous chapter, had been cultivated in Italy by Carissimi and his followers. There, however, it had so nearly developed into the prevailing operatic form that it was distinguished from it only by the lack of scenery. The chorus, after being reduced to mere fragments, finally disappeared as it had done in the opera. These were the materials from which Handel’s genius was later to evolve virtually a new form of art.

II

It is to Italy that Handel now turns his steps. That country had flooded Europe with singers that won the public’s heart wherever they appeared and even the musicians of Germany could not assail their stronghold, reinforced by popular approval. An offer by Prince Gaston de Medici in 1705 had been proudly refused by Handel, unwilling to assume the position of a servant. He now undertook the journey at his own expense, and, visiting not only Florence, but Rome, Venice, and Naples in turn, composed constantly both secular and sacred music. No less than a dozen solo cantatas--those charming little melodic sketches, miniature operas, in a sense, consisting of simple recitative and arioso over a figured bass--were produced at Florence, and upon his return after a short stay in Rome he produced 'Rodrigo,’ his first Italian opera. Its overture shows the influence of Lully, being in the form established by that composer (see Chap. XIII, p. 409) and forthwith adopted by Handel for all his operas and oratorios. In this case it closed with a suite of dances, including a gigue, a sarabande, a sailor’s dance, a minuet, two _bourrées_ and a _passecaille_. The elaborateness of the accompaniments to many of the arias gave evidence of Handel’s increased appreciation of brilliant orchestral effects. 'Rodrigo’ was an unqualified success, which was as real as it may have been surprising to Handel. 'Agrippina,’ produced in Venice, whither he went in 1708, appealed so strongly to the audience that at every cessation of the music there were loud cries of '_viva il caro Sassone!_’ (long live the dear Saxon). This enthusiastic reception of a German composer argues well for the broad judgment of the Italians, whose domination of the European musical world at that time was bitterly resented. But it was not an isolated instance, for twenty years later another German, Johann Adolph Hasse, was similarly honored, and subsequent instances are frequent down to our present day, when the Italian enthusiasm for Wagner is hardly surpassed in Germany itself.

On the other hand, there could have been but little that was strange to the Italian public in Handel’s work. All through his Hamburg career he had been influenced by the Italian school. That school had long departed from the ideals of melodic expressiveness and dramatic verisimilitude and was now given over to prescribed conventions made for the benefit of the performer. It had become simply a string of set arias and recitatives alternated in such a way as to provide the desired variety of the vocal exhibition. These rules as summarized by Rockstro,[142] exacted that there must always be six principal characters--three of each sex. The first woman must be a high soprano, the first man an artificial soprano, though he is the hero of the piece. The second man and the second woman might be either sopranos or contraltos; the third man sometimes was a tenor, and a bass would be included only when four men were in the cast. In each act all the principal singers had to sing at least one of the arias, all of which were in the conventional _da capo_ forms. These were the _aria cantabile_, _aria di portmento_, _aria di mezzo_, _carattere_, _aria parlante_, and _aria di bravura_. There had to be always a duet for the leading man and woman and an ensemble (_coro_) of all the leading singers at the end.

These limitations are sufficient explanation for the hopeless oblivion into which the operas of this period, including Handel’s, have descended. Even of the individual arias only a few are such as to interest or charm the modern listener. A few melodic gems like _Lascia ch’io pianga_, _Mio cara bene_ and two or three more are the sum total that is of value in all this tremendous bulk of operatic works which occupied the greater part of Handel’s life. Posterity’s verdict is just in these matters, nor need we feel any sense of regret at the loss, when we consider the astounding rapidity with which these compositions were ground out--'Agrippina’ had been completed within three weeks--and that the technique acquired in their writing must have yielded richer fruit in those works which remain as the master’s monument. Hence we need pass but rapidly over the list of operas, _serenate_ and oratorios composed by Handel during this period. All of them lie within the domain of Italian influence. He never attempted to develop the form further or reform it in any way. But, as we shall see later, he used it as the starting point for the new Handelian oratorio, which was the outstanding creation of his genius.

The one important fact of Handel’s Italian period is the influence he received from the composers of that country. While there he met Alessandro and Domenico Scarlatti, Lutti, Marcello, Pasquini, Corelli, and Steffani, whom he already knew and who befriended him. In the genial circle of the 'Arcadian’ academy, in the homes of the music-loving Marquis Ruspoli and the talented Cardinal Ottoboni in Rome, he absorbed Italian ideals and acquired Italian technique. In Rome, where the performance of opera was forbidden by ecclesiastical authority, he composed _Il Trionfo del tempo e del disinganno_, which he afterward made over into an English oratorio entitled 'The Triumph of Time and Truth’ and another serenata _Aci, Galatea, e Polifemo_, really a cantata for three voices with orchestra, was written in Naples. This work, however, has no connection with the work of a similar name which belongs to a later period.

'Agrippina,’ the opera mentioned above, did service in furnishing melodies for an oratorio, _La Resurrezione_, at once an outstanding instance of Handel’s transition from opera to oratorio and of his somewhat ruthless practice of using musical material for widely varying purposes. The use of Agrippina’s air, both words and music, for the character of Mary Magdalen is little calculated to recommend Handel’s early works for devotional expression. But it surpassed in dramatic intensity anything in that form produced so far, for with the Italian melodic suavity Handel combined from the first the rich harmonic sonority peculiar to the Germans, so happily fusing the old polyphonic and new monodic ideals that many of his early works already 'bear,’ as Riemann says, 'the stamp of classicism.’ It is interesting to note, however, that in _Resurrezione_ Handel makes such scant use of his contrapuntal powers that we find but two brief choruses in the entire work. It is an open question whether this oratorio was originally intended for presentation in a theatre, or, minus all action, in a church; nor is it known whether or not it was ever publicly performed.

After a stay of almost five years Handel prepared to return to Germany, for, through the good offices of Steffani, who held the post of kapellmeister to the Duke of Hanover, Handel secured that position as Steffani’s successor in 1710. As he had, however, already had several invitations to go to London, then the great stronghold of Italian opera, he accepted his new post only on condition that he might visit that metropolis. He did so in the same year and was so occupied and so carried away with success that he remained six months. As this is practically the beginning of Handel’s English period, we may preface it by a few remarks upon the state of music in England at that time.

III

Following the death of Henry Purcell (in 1695), who had produced thirty-nine English operas, or 'half-operas,’ as Chrysander calls them, since they consisted of drama interspersed with 'musical scenes’--music in England had for several years been confined to vocal and instrumental concerts and comic singing and dancing entertainments. Thus the beautiful seed of Purcell’s genius had fallen upon barren ground; the promise of an English school of opera which seemed to lie in his work remained unfulfilled. Taste had degenerated to such a degree that the time was ripe for the successful introduction of Italian opera, the 'exotic and irrational entertainment’ which Johnson made the subject of his caustic censure. Beginning with 1705 the Drury Lane Theatre and later the Haymarket became the scenes of triumph for Italian singers displaying their art in the degenerate works of their countrymen. With the production of 'Thamyris, Queen of Scythia,’ in which airs of Scarlatti and Bononcini were used in arrangements by John Pepusch[143] there came into vogue that confusion of tongues which Addison ridiculed in the _Spectator_. After commenting upon the rhetorical absurdities of the erstwhile translations, he says: 'The next step to our refinement was the introducing of Italian actors into our opera who sung their parts in their own language at the same time that our countrymen performed theirs in our native tongue. The king or hero of the play generally spoke in Italian and his slaves answered him in English. The lover frequently made his court and gained the heart of his princess in a language which she did not understand. One would have thought it very difficult to have carried on dialogues after this manner without an interpreter between the persons that conversed together, but this was the state of the English stage for about three years. At length the audience grew tired of understanding half the opera and, therefore, to ease themselves entirely of the fatigue of thinking, have so ordered it at present that the whole opera is performed in an unknown tongue. We no longer understand the language of our own stage, insomuch that I have often been afraid when I have seen our Italian performers chattering in the vehemence of action, that they have been calling us names and abusing us among themselves....’ A little further on he says, 'At present our notions of music are so very uncertain that we do not know what it is we like, only, in general, we are transported with anything that is not English, so it be of a foreign growth, let it be Italian, French, or High Dutch, it is the same thing. In short, our English music is quite rooted out and nothing yet planted in its stead.’

This was indeed the state of things when Handel settled in London. No wonder, then, that 'Rinaldo,’ composed by him in the space of two weeks to the words of Aaron Hill, the director of the Haymarket Theatre, was a tremendous success. The popularity of the music was such that the stirring march occurring in the score was adapted by the Life Guards as their regimental march to be used for nearly half a century thereafter. But we are prone to think that the public’s enthusiasm was at least equally due to the vocal pyrotechnics of Niccolini Grimaldi, who, as Rinaldo, electrified his hearers in _Cara sposa_ and many other splendid arias, and the gorgeous staging, which presented, among other things, a garden filled with live birds. 'Rinaldo’ held the boards of the Haymarket for fifteen consecutive nights and was afterward revived in Hamburg and Naples. When Handel returned to Hanover at the close of the opera season his taste for the duties of kapellmeister had evidently been spoiled by his English experience, for he soon applied for and received permission for a second visit, on condition that he return within a reasonable time. He went there in November, 1712, and produced another opera, _Il pastor fido_, which was not so successful.[144] He was as much admired in other directions, however, as, for instance, when he would play the closing voluntaries at St. Paul’s Cathedral upon the invitation of the organist, Maurice Greene, who, it is said, even volunteered to blow the organ so that he might hear Handel play.

Meantime Handel showed no intention to return to Hanover. Upon the conclusion of the Peace of Utrecht, March 31, 1713, he was commanded to write music for its celebration by Queen Anne, for whom he had already written a birthday ode in February of the same year. The _Te Deum_ and _Jubilate_, largely based on Purcell’s composition of that name, which is still being annually performed at St. Paul’s, was the result, and he was rewarded by the queen with a life annuity of £200. He had not yet made up his mind to end his somewhat prolonged leave of absence when his patron appeared in London as George I of England, for, in the meantime, Queen Anne had died and the Hanoverian dynasty was brought in by the Whigs, to whom the Peace of Utrecht and Queen Anne, both sources of Handel’s favor, were most obnoxious. Naturally Handel was now in disfavor at court, but, through the good offices of his friend, the Baron Kielmannsegge, matters were adjusted in this wise. Handel was persuaded to compose a series of short instrumental pieces to be played in a barge following the king during a nocturnal excursion upon the Thames. This 'Water Music’ so pleased the king that he inquired as to its composer, and, finding that he was none other than his former kapellmeister, demanded him into his presence to bestow upon him a pension equal to that which he had received from Queen Anne. His engagement as music master to the daughter of the prince of Wales soon brought his income up to £600. In 1716 he accompanied the king on a visit to Hanover and there composed his famous Brockes’ passion _Der für die Sünden der Welt gemarterte und sterbende Jesus_.

Further impetus for the composition of sacred music came to Handel through his appointment as chapel-master to the wealthy duke of Chandos, who lived in extraordinarily magnificent style at his palace, Cannons, in Edgeware, where he had built a private chapel after the Italian manner. With a splendid organ, good singers, and competent orchestra at his command Handel was in a position to furnish fittingly magnificent music. Here he composed two _Te Deums_ and the twelve Chandos Anthems set for chorus and solos after the style developed since Purcell, in which we may see the root form of the English oratorio soon to follow. The first of these, indeed, followed soon after. It was a setting of a text by Humphrey arranged from Racine’s 'Esther.’ Much of the music was taken from his earlier Passion, though its former use was radically different. After its original performance at Cannons in August, 1720, when the duke made Handel a present of £1,000 as a token of his appreciation, 'Esther’ was performed several times in public. The _serenata_ 'Acis and Galatea’ also belongs to the Chandos period, which was the stepping-stone to Handel’s final and greatest mission, the creation of oratorio. First, however, we must briefly review the remainder of his operatic career.

The Royal Academy of Music, formed for the production of Italian opera, engaged Handel’s services in 1719, as well as those of the celebrated Bononcini, who now also took up his residence in London.[145] As impresario Handel visited Dresden, where Italian opera flourished,[146] in order to secure a first-class company of singers, among whom were the famous male sopranos Senesino and Berselli, and Signora Salvai. 'Radamisto’ was the first opera of Handel’s to be performed. It created a sensation which was without precedent in England. It is difficult for us to comprehend the success of this work, dead as it is to-day. Nevertheless, the applause was tremendous, the theatre was packed to the doors, and persons were finally allowed to sit on the stage. The critics considered it superior to anything yet seen on an English stage, and Handel himself considered one of its arias, _Ombra cara_, the best he had ever composed. Whatever our opinion to-day, there is no question that many of the forty-odd operas of which 'Radamisto’ was the first were far superior to those of any of his contemporaries. Indeed, his star shone so brightly that it dimmed the light of every other upon the operatic firmament of Europe. Two of the operas, 'Rinaldo’ and 'Radamisto,’ deserve special mention for breadth of conception as well as intrinsic musical value. In these two Handel has reached at least a degree of dramatic power. He has treated with consummate skill the various sources and degrees of human passion and led his audience into a carefully woven web in which they became partakers in the subtleties of anxiety, joy, anger, and pathos. The remaining forty or so we may dismiss with a mere mention. _Floridante_ (1721), _Ottone_ (1723), _Flavio_ (1723), _Giulio Cesare_, _Tamerlano_ (1724), _Alessandro_ (1726), _Riccardo_, _Primo_, _Re d’Inghilterra_ (1727), all produced at the Royal Academy, are simply names to us. They have to-day not even a historical significance.

Of interest because of the story connected with it is _Muzio szevola_, in which the third act was written by Handel, the other two being supplied by his rivals, Ariosti and Bononcini. Ariosti, naturally, was out of the running, but the acts by Bononcini and Handel, both of whom had hosts of partisans, now became the subjects of a heated and general controversy which caught the entire English society in its whirl. The affair reminds of the war of Gluckists and Piccinists which at a later period set all Paris a-flutter, but, while in that case a general principle was at stake, the personal merits of the two composers were the only issue here. The triviality of the discussion is reflected in the contemporary verse of John Byron, the Lancashire poet:

'Some say, compar’d to Bononcini, That Mynherr Handel’s but a ninny; Others aver that he to Handel Is merely fit to hold a candle-- Strange, all this Difference should be ’Twixt tweedle-dum and tweedle-dee.’

The public soon surfeited of this affair, and, indeed, of Italian opera altogether--the Academy became defunct in 1728. But Handel stubbornly held out. He formed a partnership with Heidegger, the manager of the Haymarket, risked his all, and with mad industry continued to supply an imaginary demand. Late in that year he hurried to Italy, stopping at Halle to visit his old mother, now stricken with blindness, on the way, and incidentally came to know the Neapolitan school of opera at its apogee under Scarlatti. He returned to London with a fresh personnel for the Academy, and during the following four seasons produced 'Lotario’ (1729), 'Partenope’ (1730), 'Poro’ and 'Ezio’ (1731), 'Sosarme’ and 'Orlando’ (1732). Here the venture lagged. Bononcini’s open rivalry in another theatre aggravated the situation, and various dissatisfactions, squabbles with singers, etc., which need not occupy us here, resulted in the dissolution of the partnership and the evacuation of the field in the enemy’s favor.[147] After a second trip to Italy another attempt was made by Handel alone, in a theatre in Lincoln’s-Inn-Fields, and later in Covent Garden, where, besides a new version of 'Il Pastor Fido,’ 'Terpsichore’ and six more operas, he produced 'Alexander’s Feast,’ composed to the words of Dryden’s ode. During 1735 and 1736 Handel was troubled with illness; the following year saw him bankrupt. Cuzzoni, and Faustina, the wife of Hasse, those rivals whom Handel had propitiated by diplomatically composing music for both in one opera that should show their several excellencies without outshining each other; Senesino, the spoiled child of the London public, by offending whom Handel had alienated his aristocratic friends; the wonderful Farinelli, and all the Italian crew left England in disgust. Handel himself, worn out by renewed efforts as composer and impresario, was forced to seek recuperation in Aix-la-Chapelle. After his return he made several more feeble essays at opera, of which 'Imeneo’ (1740) and 'Deidamia’ (1741) were the last. The failure of the last years was in a measure offset by the success of a benefit concert given in 1738 at the instance of loyal friends. Moreover, the fact that Handel’s statue was erected in Vauxhall Gardens at this time--an unprecedented honor for a living man--betokened the high popular regard for his genius.

IV

The glories of that genius were in fact yet to be unfolded in their fullness, and in a field hitherto barely touched. Thoroughly chastened by his late failures, Handel gradually reached the conclusion that 'sacred music was best for a man in failing years.’ Chrysander describes how, toward the end of his operatic activity, he began to comprehend his true mission to be 'the union of the entire musical art, secular and ecclesiastic, of the preceding centuries in the form newly created by him (the oratorio).’ Whether we are skeptical about the sincerity of Handel’s philosophy or not, he certainly had had ample opportunity to feel the public’s pulse. As early as 1732 Aaron Hill had written him urging that 'the English language was soft enough for opera and that it was time the country were delivered from Italian bondage.’ That which now fastened Handel’s attention upon the oratorio was more than anything else the changing taste of the English public, which primarily meant nothing but a demand for opera in English--a reaction against the incomprehensible Italian warble, and the falseness, the dramatic absurdity of the prevalent school of opera.[148]

As we have already pointed out, the immediate source of the Handelian oratorio lay in the Italian opera. 'Though externally the course of Handel’s career till 1740 was determined by the composition of opera,’ says Riemann,[149] 'in retrospect it appears as a preparation for oratorio, and all his activities resolved themselves into that.’

His previous essays in Italian and in German oratorio (_La resurrezione_ and the Brockes’ Passion) would seem to portend a fusion of the two forms. Another important ingredient, however, was the sacred music of Purcell, the imitation of which--in Queen Anne’s birthday ode, the Utrecht Te Deum, etc.--had led Handel to form a style of choral composition. For the outstanding difference, the distinguishing characteristic of Handel’s oratorio is the essential employment of the chorus, which rises to ever greater eminence till at last in the crowning works of the master, in the 'Messiah’ and in 'Samson,’ we see a grand choral drama interspersed with occasional solo passages. Handel had by that time conceived a choral fabric of such stupendous dimensions as would give the oratorio a place among the grandest art forms in existence.

In 'Esther’ we divine the spark of Handel’s future greatness. In other works, too, there are isolated numbers that touch the high-water mark of beauty, but in the whole of any of these there is little unity; the single numbers do not hang together, the whole scheme does not suggest homogeneity of conception or convey the poignant religious feeling, the purposeful intensity of the later works.

With these qualities we meet for the first time in 'Saul,’ composed in 1738. This, says the admiring Rockstro, 'surpasses even the finest scenes presented in either of the three earlier works,’ and he enthusiastically points to the Song of Triumph in the first act with its picturesque carillon accompaniment, marking out each successive step in the procession, while the jealous monarch bursts with envy, the wailing notes of the oboes and bassoons in the 'Witch’s Incantation,’ the gloomy pomp of the terrible Dead March, and the tender pathos of David’s own personal sorrow, so clearly distinguished from that felt by the nation at large as some of its dramatic virtues.

'Israel in Egypt,’ Handel’s next work, is, besides the 'Messiah,’ the only purely epic oratorio in which the chorus becomes the protagonist of the drama, and we are inclined to consider these two the greatest of all. That it was in advance of the public taste of the period is indicated by the poor reception accorded to 'Israel’ upon its first performance in 1740. It was considered so heavy that it had to be performed the second time with interpolated songs to lighten it up. Despite the fact that it was put together in a total of seventeen days, that it consists to a large extent of the work of other men (sixteen of the thirty-nine numbers are plagiarized), and that it represents another instance of Handel’s peculiar handicraft in reutilizing his own creations, it exhibits qualities which hardly any other of his works possesses in so great a measure. Instead of the stereotyped harmonic structure of dominant-tonic, subdominant-tonic, which stamps so much of his work as tedious and antiquated, we have here rich chromatic progressions and colorful modulations; the clear-cut note-for-note harmony is varied by a seething polyphonic web which eloquently betrays Handel’s early fugal training, a polyphony as diverse almost as that of the _a capella_ masters of the past, but resting firmly on a pure harmonic foundation, euphonious, sonorous, guided by solid laws of progression, but unrestrained in its freedom of movement. The chorus 'They loathed to drink,’ adapted from one of his own organ fugues, is a fine example. It is in moments like these that Handel shows his kinship to his great countryman, Bach. The colossal double choruses in which every resource of vocal polyphony and harmonic power seems exhausted are the most noted features of 'Israel in Egypt.’

Handel’s reprehensible practice of appropriating the compositions of other, and often obscure, composers has been much discussed. To a modern artistic conscience there is no excuse for such wholesale theft. How far it was justified by usage we are not able now to determine. At any rate we are surprised at the absence of protest on the part of the composers of the pilfered works. It is true that by utilizing their material Handel often saved such compositions from certain oblivion, and that in handling it his masterful touch was such as to sanctify even dross. Moreover, the original parts are usually far superior to the appropriative ones. The only plausible explanation for the procedure can be found in the feverish haste with which he produced piece after piece, which would indicate an extraordinary rapacity for success--and probably material gain--an unsympathetic trait of character unfortunately associated with others as repugnant.

In 'Israel’ a Stradella _serenata_ furnished the material for 'He speaketh the word,’ 'But as for his People,’ and 'Believed the Lord.’ The antiphonal effect desired by Handel was most conveniently provided by the two orchestras in Stradella’s work, which represent the two rival parties of musicians serenading the lovers’ mistress. 'The Lord is a man of war’ represents a most ingenious form of plagiarism, for the voice parts are taken from a work by Erba, but the accompaniment figure is from Urio’s _Te Deum_. Such artful utilizations and welding of foreign materials into a homogeneous and impressively artistic whole reveal Handel as the master workman of his time. Many other instances could be cited, but we content ourselves with the pleasant one as disposing of the matter.

Without question, the pinnacle of Handel’s creative mission was reached with the next oratorio--'The Messiah’--on which perhaps more than all the other works taken together rests Handel’s place in the heart of modern music lovers. That monumental work was produced between August 22 and September 14, 1741, a period of twenty-four days! The compiler of the libretto was Charles Jennens, the quality of whose other literary performances have cast considerable doubt upon his claim to the origination of the altogether admirable plan. His comment on Handel’s setting throws light on his conceited nature as well as upon the firm independence of the composer: 'He has made a fine entertainment of it,’ says Jennens, 'though not near so good as he might and ought to have done. I have with great difficulty made him correct some of the present faults, but he retained the overture obstinately, in which there are some passages far unworthy of Handel, but much more unworthy of the Messiah!’ Posterity has decreed otherwise with respect to the comparative merits of book and music. At any rate, the former is well-nigh ideal in the unity of thought and intensive continuity with which the story of the Saviour’s life is unfolded from the prophecy to the last things.

We have called 'The Messiah’ an _epic_ oratorio. As there is, as Schering[151] says, but a series of contemplative choruses, arias, and recitatives on the 'Messiah’ idea, its psychological connection with the German cantata is much closer than with the Italian oratorio. As we have observed, Handel had been getting away more and more from the operatic style. Both because of its form and because scriptural words only are used in it, we may, with Riemann, consider it as one great anthem. The work is too well known to require extended comment. Let us only remind the reader of the exquisite beauty of such lyric passages as 'I know that my Redeemer liveth,’ 'How beautiful are the feet,’ and 'Behold and see’ which are among the rarest gems of aria form in our possession. Powerful and passionate expressions such as occur in 'The people that walked in darkness’ are as rare in the literature of dramatic music, while the highly dramatic recitatives like 'Thy rebuke hath broken’ are, without question, one of the completest realizations of the ideal of Peri and Monteverdi.[152] The glorious choral effects in the Hallelujah chorus, the stirring polyphony, now simultaneous, now imitative, reflect a potency and spiritual elevation that will perhaps never be surpassed. Lastly, let us not forget the beautiful Pastoral Symphony in which the exquisite Calabrian melody, the song of the _piferari_ that Handel had heard in the early days at Rome, is introduced.

'The Messiah’ was first performed on April 13, 1742, in Dublin, whither Handel had gone upon the invitation of the duke of Devonshire, lord lieutenant of Ireland. It was given for the benefit of a charitable society and was well received. When in March of the following year it was performed in London, the audience, including the king, was so affected by the Hallelujah chorus that at the words 'For the Lord God omnipotent reigneth’ it instinctively rose. Thus it has remained customary in England for audiences to stand during the performance of that number.

A number of other oratorios followed in regular succession: 'Samson’ in 1741, 'Joseph’ in 1743, 'Semele’ in 1744, and 'Belshazzar’ and 'Hercules’ in 1744. After an eighteen-months’ period of inactivity following another financial crisis, came the 'Occasional Oratorio,’ thus named, according to Chrysander, 'because its creation and performances were occasioned by peculiar passing circumstances,’ and 'Judas Maccabæus,’ 'Joshua’ (1747), 'Solomon’ (1748), 'Susanna’ (1748), and 'Theodora’ (1749). By this time the excessive popularity of oratorio had waned also and 'Theodora’ was so poorly attended that Handel remarked bitterly that the Jews (who had patronized his oratorios on Hebraic subjects quite largely) would not come because the subject was Christian, and the ladies stayed away because it was virtuous. Considering the notorious state of Harry Walpole’s society we may better understand this jest.

'The Choice of Hercules,’ a secular oratorio (1750), and 'Jephtha,’ composed in 1751 and performed in the following year, closed the series. During this time Handel was afflicted with a disease which eventually robbed him of his sight. Three operations for cataract were of no avail and he remained blind, or nearly so, for the remainder of his life. (It is a curious coincidence that Bach at the end of his life suffered a similar fate.) Nevertheless he labored on. The practice of playing organ concertos between the parts of his oratorios, which was a regular custom with him, he continued, probably now they were purely improvisations, as, indeed, they had been, with few exceptions, theretofore. Those which he wrote down seem to have answered the purpose merely of providing material at times when inspiration lagged.

V

Handel’s instrumental music is, like Bach’s, based on the solid German fugal technique, but, unlike that master’s, it is strongly influenced by Italian violin music, and especially by that of Corelli. It is characterized by distinguished simplicity, clearness of outline and terseness of utterance. By virtue of their broad thematic formation and the direct force of their expression, his violin sonatas, trio sonatas, and _concerti grossi_ are superior to those of Corelli. He wrote also a number of pieces for the harpsichord, and as early as 1720 had published 'Lessons for the Harpsichord,’ which was reprinted in Germany, France, Switzerland, and Holland. Before 1740 he composed no less than twelve sonatas for violin or flute with Figured Bass, thirteen trio sonatas for two violins (oboes or flutes) and bass, six _concerti grossi_, known as the oboe concerti, and five other orchestral _concerti_, twenty organ _concerti_, twelve _concerti_ for strings, and many suites, fantasies, and fugues for piano and organ. But it is not evident that he attached great importance to his instrumental works. He regarded them rather as great storehouses of material upon which he drew (as we have seen) at will for his larger vocal compositions.

The last of Handel’s labors were the production of the English version of 'The Triumph of Time and Truth’ (originally composed in 1708) at Covent Garden in 1757,[153] and the conducting of the annual performance of the 'Messiah’ at the Foundling Hospital in London. This charitable labor, as well as his support of the fund for helpless musicians and other acts of benevolence, betokens Handel’s generosity. He attended another performance of his most popular oratorio at Covent Garden, April 6th, 1759, eight days before his death, which occurred at his house in Brooks Street on the fourteenth of that month. The master was buried in Westminster Abbey among the nation’s great. Englishmen may well claim him as one of their own, notwithstanding his German birth and parentage, for not only had he become a naturalized British subject in 1726, but he had entered thoroughly into the spirit of British society and adapted himself to its habits of mind. Throughout its later period his career was closely identified with the British crown. Upon taking the oath of allegiance he became officially composer to the court. As such, upon the coronation of George II in 1727, he composed four great anthems for the occasion, and conducted an exceptionally large orchestra, in which a double bassoon, constructed under Handel’s supervision, was used for the first time. Again, in 1737, he wrote a deeply affecting mourning anthem for the burial of Queen Caroline, and, altogether, he came to share in an unusual degree the patriotic veneration of the English people. Moreover, his ideals were in a large measure shaped by English public opinion. It is doubtful, indeed, whether his work would ever have attained its great lasting value had it not been turned away from the channels of Italian opera by the sheer force of popular taste. What his genius would have brought forth had he, like Bach, remained within the local sphere of his birthplace, is an interesting speculation.

* * * * *

Handel’s fame increased steadily until the time of his death. Though the opposition against him had lost much of its force, it was a more or less constant irritation and embarrassment to him till late in his life. His own character, his irascible temper, and his stubbornness no doubt were in a measure responsible for this. But men who are aggressive and successful not uncommonly incur the wrath of jealous rivals, and few men have been as successful as Handel, notwithstanding his repeated failures. He was a big man, built on a large scale both mentally and physically--he rose to heights rarely attained by men of his profession, and it was inevitable that his pride should sometimes go to the length of arrogance. Many are the anecdotes testifying to his tyrannical nature, his ruthless manners, his ponderous pomposity, his abnormal appetite. Some of all that is reflected in his work. We often hear the vain, self-sufficient boor through the interminable roulades and runs, the ponderous chords, the diatonic sonorities of his scores. On the other hand, the man of the world, the successful courtier, the shrewd _homme d’affaires_ shines through. As Maitland says, 'Studying all but a very few exceptionally inspired pages of his works we remain conscious of the full-bottomed wig, the lace ruffles, and all the various details of his costume.’[154]

But those two pages are enough to place him among the greatest of the great. If we can justly say that he sums up the achievement of his own generation of music, as far as it corresponds to the taste of the period, it must not be thought that he passed nothing on to the next. The oratorio, his special gift to the world, will always remain inseparably connected with his name. Had he left nothing but his inspired works in that form, to serve as models for posterity, his claim to immortality would be assured. C. S.

FOOTNOTES:

[141] We shall hereafter adhere to the English spelling of the name, without the _Umlaut_.

[142] W. S. Rockstro: 'Life of Handel,’ p. 62.

[143] John Christopher Pepusch (b. Berlin, 1667; d. London, 1752) was not only an able, practical musician, but an authority in theory and musical history. He went to England in 1700 and joined the orchestra of the Drury Lane Theatre, where he became subsequently accompanist and composer. In that capacity he compiled 'English’ operas from Italian arias. As founder of the 'Academy of Ancient Music’ he made a serious effort toward the revival of sixteenth century music (Purcell, etc.). He was Handel’s predecessor as organist to the Duke of Chandos and as such composed services, anthems, cantatas, etc. After writing a number of English operas for the Lincoln’s-Inn-Fields Theatre ('Venus and Adonis,’ 'Death of Dido,’ etc.), he arranged and produced the famous 'Beggar’s Opera’ (a ballad-opera by Gay), which attained tremendous popularity and created a serious competition to the Italian operas of Handel.

[144] It was followed In January by _Teseo_, which, though more successful, did not warrant many performances. A benefit performance was later given by the company for Handel, who, up to that time, had received no remuneration.

[145] Giovanni Battista Bononcini (or Buononcini), son and pupil of Giov. Maria Bononcini (_maestro di capella_ at the cathedral of Modena, composer of chamber music, theoretician, etc.), was born about 1660 at Modena, d. about 1750. As first maestro of S. Giovanni in monte, he wrote masses and oratorios, among which are _Davidde_, _Giosue_, _La Maddelena a piedi di Christro_. His instrumental works include _Sinfonie_ a 5-8 (op. 2, 1685), _Sinfonie_ a 3 with Basso continuo (op. 3, 1686), _Sinfonie a piu strumenti_ (op. 5), etc. In 1691 he went to Vienna, and, beginning 1694, devoted himself largely to the composition of operas (_Tullo Ostilio_, _La fedo pubblica_, _Proteo sul Reno_, _Polifemo_, etc.), produced in Rome, Vienna and Berlin, where he became court composer to Queen Sophie Charlotte (1703). Before his engagement in London he returned to Vienna and produced a number of new operas, from _Tomiri_ (1704) to _Muzio Scevola_ (1710). His fame was perhaps second only to Handel’s, and the direct popular appeal of his pleasing, simple melodic style fully explains the keen rivalry which ensued between the two. His London operas include _Astarto_ (1720), _Ciro_, _Crispo_, _Griselda_ (1722), _Calpurnia_ (1724), and _Astianatte_ (1727). His productivity was no less great in chamber music, of which he wrote _ayres_, various dance movements, _divertimente da camera_, and sonatas for strings and for clavecin. He fell into disrepute in England through the discovery that he had published a madrigal by Lotti as his own--strange as it may seem that his rival’s offenses in that direction passed without censure.

[146] _Cf._ Chap. XV.

[147] Nicola Porpora (see Vol. II, Chap. I) was made conductor of the rival opera, and as the teacher of Farinelli and nearly all the great singers of the time he was easily able to rally around himself a most formidable force of artists.

[148] We may remind the reader of the valiant efforts made by Dr. Pepusch and other Anglo-Germans against the English public’s absolute surrender to the Italian opera and Italian monody, holding out for the more serious contrapuntal music of the sixteenth century, and for the use of the native tongue. The immense success of Gay’s 'Beggar’s Opera’ in 1728 was another proof of this demand for a native popular entertainment.

[149] _Handbuch der Musikgeschichte_, II².

[150] In 'Deborah’ the overture for the first time becomes dramatically identified with the work itself. In it two of the choruses are utilized.

[151] Arnold Schering: _Geschichte des Oratoriums._

[152] Riemann: _Op. cit._

[153] His introduction of choruses in the new version aptly illustrates the metamorphosis which the Handel oratorio underwent, and how indispensable the choral element had by this time become.

[154] Oxford: 'History of Music,’ IV, 3.