George Frideric Handel_Dover Books on Music

by Paul Henry Lang

  As he was familiar with so many of the Sacred Order, and of a persuasion so totally repugnant to theirs, it is natural to imagine that some of them would expostulate with him on that subject ... Being pressed very closely on this article by one of these exalted Ecclesiastics, he replied, that he was neither qualified, nor disposed to enter into enquiries of this sort, but was resolved to die a member of the communion, whether true or false, in which he was born and bred. No hopes appearing of a real conversion, the next attempt was to win him over to outward conformity. But neither arguments, nor offers had any effect, unless it were of confirming him still more in the principles of protestantism. These applications were made only by a few persons. The generality looked upon him as a man of honest, though mistaken principles, and therefore concluded that he would not easily be induced to change them.

  He withstood all the Italians’ eloquence, for he was of a different temperament from the Milan Bach or any other of the German pilgrims in Italy with the exception of Schütz. But the most redoubtable and experienced Catholic apologist was yet to be encountered, and that one appears, interestingly enough, just when the decision to leave was about to be made. One cannot help wondering how much Steffani’s efforts contributed to this decision.

  Steffani, the churchman-diplomat-composer extraordinary, had still another passion, even more ambitious than his bold political operations: he wanted to regain the German Protestant princes for Catholicism. He did not succeed, though not for lack of effort, for he used every means at his disposal. He went so far as to tackle the dour soldier-king of Prussia, an attempt that led to a hasty retreat. This belated exponent of the Counter-Reformation, always eager to save souls, particularly souls of stature, must have worked hard to convert Handel, but to no avail. Once more, it is a pleasure to record that Handel’s intransigeance did not in the least affect the cordial relations between him and the crusading bishop; the elder man warmly supported his fellow musician.

  The exact value that Handel attached to this privacy of religious belief is impossible to ascertain. But we may note that in all his years in England, he never publicly affiliated himself with the Anglican Church, although he was a frequent churchgoer, and we may be sure that the remark to Hawkins reflected the thoughts of a naturally reticent man who was very much in earnest and completely sincere with himself before God, for his independence was not synonymous with irreligion.

  The other paramount reason for Handel’s departure we see in opera itself, a view not at all contradictory to the facts when we are familiar with Handel’s operas after Agrippina.

  Handel was not a “bilingual” composer; everything he learned in Italy was blended into a single, personal language. In the basic contours of his forms he depended, equally with his colleagues, on the period, but in his artistic means and aims he was far more independent. The creations resulting from his plastic force of characterization were different from the often statuesque Venetian operatic figures, and in this as in many other aspects of his art Handel reaches far into modern times. The question he posed was similar to Verdi’s: not whether the libretto gives the composer opportunity to create a broad, unified, all-encompassing picture—the Venetians could do that masterfully—but whether he could build musical scenes based on the inner dramatic qualities of the dramatis personae. To him every line of thought was a path of access to the actual life of man. At the age of twenty-one he had clearly assessed the future of opera in Hamburg, and now, after years of rich experience among the masters of opera, he once more must have sensed a tendency that was contrary to his ideals. Seventeenth-century Italian opera was pure music drama, but in the first half of the 18th it turned into a poetry of the senses, often without intellectual or emotional depth, effete, and luxurious. This could not have been to his liking, for the true dramatist is in action with the very first chords; the curtain rises and he is fully engaged. Some of the great masters of the music drama were still alive, and both Scarlatti and Lotti were yet to write their mature masterpieces, but the tendency was already discernible.

  True, the history of opera in the first half of the 18th century is not yet sufficiently explored, and it is quite possible that our present view concerning the decline and schematic nature of the seria and the corresponding exaltation of the buffa may change when more works are known. The production of opere serie was enormous, but we know only an infinitely small portion of it since so little is available in print; but the opera buffa was bound to be victorious over the seria, for when tragedy and comedy collide, it is usually comedy that wins. The realistic and practical sense of the Italians has always overcome abstractions; they love the good story, the amusing situations, the double-entendre. In recent operatic history even Puccini, essentially a composer of comédie larmoyante, turned to the opera buffa towards the end of his career. But Handel was not a composer of comedy, in which he again resembles Verdi, although like Verdi he too composed a comic masterpiece. Even in Serse, however, the humor and the satire consist not at all in the situations but in the character portrayal. It is conveyed by the curl of a musical phrase in the ear, by speed, or by stillness.

  Having explored the whole range of Italian music, having learned the trade, supremely confident in his power to create a world of his own, he was looking for a place where he could build this world, where he could establish his own laws, where both a man’s religious and artistic views were his private affair; and all this he hoped to find, as we shall see, in England.

  The decision made, Handel packed his belongings, the considerable number of scores he had composed in Italy—as well as some by Stradella, Scarlatti, Lotti, and others—and left Venice, where he had become world famous and the idol of a spoiled and knowledgeable audience.

  V

  1710-1712

  Hanover—Elector Georg Ludwig—His wife, Caroline—Brief stay in Hanover—Conjectures concerning voyage to London—Visit to Halle and Düsseldorf—Arrival in London, fall of 1710—State of Italian opera in London—Entrepreneurs on the scene—The Haymarket and Drury Lane Theatres—Handel makes contact with Haymarket Theatre—The intermediaries—Handel’s first London opera, Rinaldo (February 1711) —John Walsh, the publisher—Opposition to Italian opera—Handel begins to move in social circles—Thomas Britton and his concerts—Handel’s leave of absence ends—Second stay in Hanover—Back in London, fall of 1712—Compositions in Hanover

  HANDEL’S APPOINTMENT AS COURT CONDUCTOR IN IIANOVER took effect on June 16, 1710. One would think that for a man of twenty-five such a position, occupied before him by no less distinguished a figure than Steffani, would represent a very desirable station in his career. Hanover was not a negligible provincial residence; the court under the energetic and cultivated Electress Sophie was intellectually far above the average (though this brilliance was not transferred to the Court of St. James when after the death of the Electress her son became George I of England). Nor was Hanover’s musical past, though fairly recent, inconsiderable. From 1639 to 1641 Schütz was Hofkapellmeister, and later, along with a bevy of excellent French and Italian musicians, the court establishment counted among its members Nicolaus Adam Strungk. Opera was first produced there in 1672, and in 1688 Elector Ernst Augustus (who spent most of his time in Venice and worshipped everything Italian) erected a 1300-seat theatre that was considered the most beautiful opera house in Germany. It was inaugurated with one of Steffani’s operas and continued under the diplomat-composer’s direction until the death of Ernst Augustus in 1698. Although in 1710 there was no longer an active opera company in existence, Hanover still had several good instrumentalists and some able singers. But once more matters are not so simple as documents and circumstances would indicate. Handel stayed in Hanover for little more than the summer of 1710. In October or November he appears in London.

  We know nothing about the compositions Handel produced during this brief sojourn in Hanover, though he must have done some works for the court musicales, as he certainly did during a second stay. Some of his numero
us chamber compositions may well fall into this period; such works, however, are very difficult to date because they were usually reworked years later. Perhaps the most important result of this stay lay in the friendships and acquaintances made among the electoral family and some of the electoral musicians, all of whom figure prominently in his subsequent career in England.

  Georg Ludwig was a dull and unambitious country squire, but he inherited his father’s pleasure in wine, women, and song. While Ernst Augustus maintained a box in five Venetian opera houses and, as we have seen, built a magnificent theatre of his own in Hanover (to which his subjects gladly contributed in order to keep him at home), the son liked opera only when it did not cost him money, and therefore disbanded the fine company, though plays, especially French comedies, continued to be performed in the theatre. The Elector liked and admired Handel, as the latter must have been aware; otherwise his conduct during a second leave from Hanover cannot be explained.

  The real friend was Ernst Augustus’s daughter-in-law, Caroline (1683-1737), the future Princess of Wales and Queen of England. Caroline, the daughter of the Margrave of Brandenburg-Ansbach, was married in 1705 to the electoral prince, later George II. This was in all probability her second meeting with Handel, because Caroline spent her youth in Berlin and was at the court when Handel visited it from Halle. Growing up in a highly artistic environment in the court dominated by the brilliant Sophie Charlotte, she received a good musical training, reputedly studying with Pistocchi, and most certainly with Steffani after she moved to Hanover. She was a good harpsichordist, and Leibniz, with whom she was on intimate terms, praised her voice. Archduke Charles of Austria, the future Emperor, also admired her singing and liked to accompany her on the harpsichord. In fact, Charles was so taken with her that she could have become German Empress, instead of becoming, in a roundabout way, Queen of England. As Princess of Wales she was the one popular member of the new dynasty, mediating between the Hanoverians and the English. Her popularity and her loyalty to her unstable husband, the Prince of Wales, eventually embroiled her with King George I. Of about the same age as Handel, she was devoted to him, and he reciprocated her feelings, treasuring her friendship and memorializing her death in one of his finest compositions, the magnificent Funeral Ode.

  One might conclude that Handel missed the opportunities for opera in Hanover and moved to London, as the young Mozart left Salzburg for Vienna; but then why was a magnificent opportunity to become associated with a fine opera house in Düsseldorf rejected?

  The Elector Palatine, Johann Wilhelm, came from a branch of the Wittelsbach family that had a tradition of close relations with Italy and a fondness for Italian art and music. Indeed, his wife was a Medici, sister of our old acquaintance, Prince Gastone. The Elector, a fervent lover of music, heard glowing reports about Handel’s great success in Venice, and Steffani is once more in the picture, for he must have recommended Handel to the Elector while the former was still in Venice. The peregrinating Bishop had been in the Elector’s service since the dissolution of the opera company in Hanover. Steffani had come as usual on a diplomatic mission, but finding the musical situation ripe for positive intervention, soon took charge and brought the Diisseldorf opera to that peak of excellence that seems always to have crowned his efforts. Under Johann Wilhelm’s rule some of the most notable musicians resided in or visited Düsseldorf; Corelli dedicated his last work, Opus VI, the great set of Concerti Grossi, to the Elector Palatine. The theatre, built in 1659, was modern, the troupe excellent, and the Elector’s largesse considerable. Diisseldorf therefore offered everything that Handel missed in Hanover; moreover, he could have remained in Germany rather than try his fortune in a strange land where opera was just beginning to take root, and where the language was totally foreign to him. Yet he firmly declined the appointment. In truth he never considered either Hanover or Diisseldorf at all.

  A forceful argument may be advanced by those who have observed that at no time in his life did Handel show any interest in a fixed position; an inveterate free-lancer, he was by constitution fiercely independent. There is undoubtedly some validity in this point, but once more the trip to London was the result of his own decision made while still in Italy, and adhered to with his usual tenacity. This decision has been discussed in the previous chapter, and although the ultimate reasons that prompted it must necessarily remain speculative, the circumstances require further examination.

  In accepting the post of court conductor in Hanover, Handel made the unusual stipulation that leaves of absence of considerable duration should be an essential part of the contract. All appearances point to the fact that a journey to England was planned even before the offer from Prince Ernst was accepted. Perhaps the prudent businessman merely wanted a safe berth in case the London expedition proved a failure. There can be no question that the Düsseldorf offer also was known before the acceptance of the Hanover call, and many biographers take it for granted that so was a definite invitation to England, though agreement here is not unanimous. Mainwaring, however, is quite explicit on all these points.

  [Handel] expressed his apprehensions [to Baron Kielmansegg] that the favour intended him would hardly be consistent either with the promise he had actually made to visit the court of the Elector Palatine, or with the resolution he had long taken to pass over into England.... Upon this objection ... [he had obtained] leave to be absent for a twelve-month or more, if he chose it; and to go whithersoever he pleased.

  Mainwaring further believed that Handel was invited to England by the Earl of Manchester, whom we met in Venice as British Ambassador. Possibly, but there are no documents to support the assumption. Charles Montagu, Earl of Manchester, was a cultivated soldier-diplomat, who occupied several important posts before becoming attached in 1714 to the household of King George I, the king subsequently creating him first Duke of Manchester. He was fond of music, appreciated Handel, and we find his name among the original subscribers to the Royal Academy of Music (1719); he seems to have been one of the moving spirits of the institution, and its deputy governor.

  Flower says: “No call had come to Handel from England, no invitation from high quarters.” In contradiction, Rolland maintains that “Handel asked and obtained leave to go to England, from whence proposals had been made to him.” However, none of the biographers comes forward with documentary proof. Manchester may have voiced the desire of those who wanted to establish Italian opera—the nobility on their grand tours were impressed with the social and artistic role of opera—and felt that a likely leader, a “winner,” must be secured who would produce such works on the spot. Handel’s success in Venice pointed clearly to the likelihood of a brilliant career, an estimate that was shared by the maestros in London, judging from their hostility to the newcomer. (Of course, the smartest of the lot soon elected to join the conqueror rather than to oppose him.) Another possible source for the “invitation” may be sought in the Wyche family. We have seen that John Wyche, the English diplomatic representative in Hamburg, was much interested in music and appreciative of Handel’s talents. Son of a rather celebrated father, our diplomat does not rate an entry in the Dictionary of National Biography beyond a bare identification as his father’s son, but he was connected with many in the world of the great and in the world of arts and letters. It is clear that if we postulate that Handel moved in this circle he would also be familiar with these people. And he must have gathered a certain amount of knowledge about England elsewhere in Hamburg, a city where English influence was considerable. There was also the indefatigable champion of English thought, Mattheson, Handel’s bosom friend and mentor in Hamburg, who must have transmitted at least some of his ardent Anglophile sentiments to his junior companion. So, all of this may have contributed to Handel’s departure for England, but the strongest beckoning was from his own past—the “great search” continued.

  On his way to what was to become his home, Handel stopped in Halle to visit his family. His mother lived quietly with Handel’s kindly
aunt, Anna, unable to understand why her son, a solid German middle-class artisan, must roam the world. His younger sister, Johanna Christiana, had died the year before, while the other, Dorothea Sophia, had married Dr. Michael Michaelsen, a civil servant of some standing, thereby stepping into a higher social stratum. And of course, as Mainwaring points out, his revered “old Master Zackaw was by no means forgot” by the now famous pupil. The visit was very short and was followed by an even shorter stop in Düsseldorf, where Handel stayed merely long enough to collect a present from the Elector Palatine. The man of the world bowed out of a flattering offer gracefully in person, and “the Elector Palatine was much pleased with the punctual performance of his promise [of a visit] but much disappointed to find that he was engaged elsewhere.” With his gift, “a fine set of wrought plate,” says Mainwaring, and his usual hoard of scores, he once more took to the road, arriving in London sometime in October or November 1710.20

  [2]

  BRITAIN’S CAPITAL is not usually regarded as a colorful city; it has neither the crisp sea breeze of Hamburg nor the azure of Naples, yet Turner and later Whistler painted the banks of the Thames, shrouded in fog, seeing not the dull mist but the many shades of color that filtered through its curtain. In 1710 London was a great metropolis, the hub of an empire, almost entirely rebuilt after the Great Fire of 1666, and distinguished by many stately public edifices and aristocratic mansions, a number of them designed by Sir Christopher Wren, as well as handsome and capacious middle-class houses. This was not the entire picture, however, for it must be admitted that London was, so to speak, picturesquely clothed in silk and satin, covering almost incredible squalor, misery, and crime. But between the aristocracy, grown rich and dissolute from the wealth of the colonies, and the many living in abject poverty, there was the large stratum of the bourgeoisie, industrious, religious, and moral.