The Chandos Te Deums and anthems were the next step in that direction, and ‘Esther’ represents the foundation upon which the gigantic structure of the later works was raised. It was ‘Esther,’ indeed, which gave the direct impulse to the most momentous transition in Handel’s career. That oratorio, originally composed for the chapel of the duke of Chandos, was revived, with action, scenery, and costume by the children of the Chapel Royal in Westminster. It was twice repeated in a tavern in the Strand, and again performed without authority in April, 1732, ‘at the Great Room in Villar’s Street, York Buildings,’ at five shillings a head. Always alive to business advantages, Handel immediately announced a performance of it at his own opera house for the second of May, ‘by a great number of voices and instruments.’ The acting of sacred oratorio had been forbidden by the Bishop, hence the advertisement said that ‘there would be no Acting, but the House will be fitted up in a decent Manner for the audience.’ Handel had enlarged for this occasion the choruses and the orchestration, which now consisted of five violins, viola, 'cello, double bass, two oboes, two flutes, two bassoons, harp, theorbo, harpsichord, and organ—a combination which appears surprisingly modern in comparison with the freak proportions of some of the earlier operas.
The unusual success of the experiment was no doubt responsible for the next effort of this kind, namely ‘Deborah,’ performed in 1733, at double prices, which circumstance militated against large audiences and fanned the flame of opposition then raging about Handel. In the same year ‘Athalia’ was produced in Oxford, in which Handel came very near the form of the German chorale cantata. ‘Deborah’ and ‘Esther’ were also revived there with success.[150]
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 ofthe 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 thea capellamasters 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 Stradellaserenatafurnished the materialfor ‘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’sTe 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 withwhich the story of the Saviour’s life is unfolded from the prophecy to the last things.
We have called ‘The Messiah’ anepicoratorio. 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 thepiferarithat 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 thefollowing 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.
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, andconcerti grossiare 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, sixconcerti grossi, known as the oboe concerti, and five other orchestralconcerti, twenty organconcerti, twelveconcertifor 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 performanceof 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 lostmuch 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 shrewdhomme d’affairesshines 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.