George Frideric Handel_Dover Books on Music

by Paul Henry Lang

  Rinaldo ran for fifteen nights to full houses. It was frequently revived in subsequent seasons, invariably with great success, and London still talked about it in the thirties. Dublin heard the opera on March 11, 1711, the first Italian opera to be sung there; Hamburg in 1715, in German; Milan in 1718. Perhaps the best sign of Handel’s victory and “arrival” was the appearance on the scene of a publisher willing to invest in the printing of Rinaldo’s music. John Walsh, proprietor of “The Golden Harp and Hoboy,” was the dominant figure in English music publishing. A hardbitten, ruthless, piratical businessman for whom no one seems to have a good word to say, he was an able publisher, probably the ablest of the whole age. Walsh lost no time when the first opera reached England, and no sooner had Clayton’s Arsinoe started the genre on its English career than he was on the spot, publishing all the “songs” of the Drury Lane productions. A succès fou such as Rinaldo naturally attracted him, and in no time there appeared the first printed volume of Handel’s music: Song’s in the Opera of Rinaldo Compos’d by Mr Hendel. Walsh’s mean business practices did not appeal to Handel, and the publisher had to wait a long time before again doing business with this composer. Needless to say, in those days the composer’s refusal was not an absolute deterrent to publication; piracy was always possible and John Walsh was an expert at it.

  Overnight Rinaldo had established the unquestioned supremacy of the Haymarket Theatre over the Drury Lane Theatre, or over any other form of public music-making. It was quite clear that this newcomer was not only a celebrity but a power and hence a menace to those who had vested interests in the musical theatre; they therefore lost no time in trying to whittle him down. In addition, when Handel arrived in London there was an articulate opposition to Italian opera in certain literary circles. This is a natural phenomenon in any country where the spoken theatre is highly developed; the same literary opposition greeted opera in France.25 The first salvo, from Addison’s pen, appeared in the Spectator on March 6, 1711, followed ten days later by one from Richard Steele. Both these critics nurtured grievances; Addison was embittered by the failure of his Rosamond, while Steele was angry with the intruder who lured away audiences from his concerts in York Buildings. At the end of Steele’s piece one detects the first signs of some of the arguments opponents of opera were to become fond of marshalling against the genre. “I shall only observe one thing further, in which both Dramas agree; which is, that by the Squeak of their Voices the Heroes of each are Eunuchs; and as the Wit in both Pieces are equal, I must prefer the Performance of Mr. Powell, because it is in our Language.” It must be conceded, though, that Addison did appreciate good singing and praised Nicolini highly. Even if Handel was apprised of the critics’ views, it is not likely that he was disturbed—he had seen worse before. The critical literature in Germany in the age of the Enlightenment was rough, sarcastic, and offensive, with no holds barred, and Handel had got a good taste of it from the violent and coarse pamphleteering that had raged about the libretto of his Almira in Hamburg.

  Rinaldo’s success was both artistic and social. It made Handel’s name known, and now he began to move out of the precincts of the theatre, seeking the intellectual and social circles that were his natural habitat. Very little is known about his life during 1711, though it is plain that Hill, Heidegger, Roner, and others gradually introduced him to a number of persons who were instrumental in facilitating his gradual rise in social level. He may already, as Flower suggests, have made his way to the Piccadilly residence of the Dowager Countess Juliana and her son Richard, Earl of Burlington, but Hawkins and others do not say anything about Burlington House before the second London visit. All biographers agree that throughout 1711 Handel was a frequent visitor at the musical gatherings organized by Thomas Britton, the musical “Small Coal Man.” As a characteristic middle-class phenomenon Britton can be imagined only in England. By trade a coal merchant, in his spare time a bibliophile and good gamba player, he fitted out the low-ceilinged room over his coal bins as a “concert hall,” with a harpsichord and a small organ. The finest musicians of the day, leading literary men, earls and duchesses climbed the rickety stairs to the uncomfortable loft to hear and make music. Handel’s presence at these meetings seems inevitable; he knew many of the persons who were regular participants at Britton’s concerts, yet, strangely, even Otto Erich Deutsch was unable to run down a single positive document attesting such attendance. It would seem perverse to question the accuracy of the assumption that he did attend, and it was undoubtedly at Britton’s that he met Pepusch and others, among them John Hughes.

  Hughes (1677-1720) was a not inconsiderable literary figure; his tragedy, The Siege of Damascus, became a long-time favorite in the theatre later in the century. Author of librettos for Pepusch and Galliard, Hughes was an advocate of opera, in particular of English opera, and as a frequent contributor to the Spectator, the Tatler, and the Guardian, he was well known in the literary world (Johnson wrote his biography), very likely introducing Handel to a number of influential persons. But as we know from past experience, all that Handel needed for making his way was a harpsichord or an organ and an audience, and since there was a harpsichord in many well-appointed London drawing rooms, this was a simple matter. We shall see him ranging far and wide in these drawing rooms upon his return from Hanover in 1712, but it is noteworthy that apparently even during his first visit he managed to gain entry to the court itself. Mainwaring states that before returning to Hanover, Handel paid his respects to Queen Anne, who gave him “large presents and [intimated] her desire of seeing him again.” He adds that Handel promised to return “the moment he could obtain permission from the Prince,” and although there is no other evidence that the visit to the court, the Queen’s invitation, and Handel’s promise actually took place, subsequent events seem to lend credibility to the story.

  At the end of the opera season the exciting London days came abruptly to an end. Handel had to remember that he was not a free agent, but a musician under contract to the Elector of Hanover; he must have left soon after the June 2 closing of the Haymarket Theatre, because his presence in Düsseldorf is recorded on June 17. Apparently Handel was somewhat uneasy about his reception at the hands of Georg Ludwig, perhaps expecting a reprimand, though he had not exceeded the “twelve-month” permitted by the contract. At any rate, he conveyed his misgivings to his great admirer, the Elector Palatine, who graciously gave him a letter to his “cousin,” Hanover, begging leniency. Handel, being a thorough man, and knowing who was most influential at the Hanover court, wheedled a second letter from Johann Wilhelm to the Dowager Electress Sophie. The Hanoverian court conductor resumed his post without any untoward unpleasantness.

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  AFTER THE animated days in London, Hanover must have seemed a very dull place to Handel, but it is obvious that he considered his return a tactical move within a much larger strategy—he did not have the slightest intention of staying in Hanover. The position of dependency that he had resumed in Hanover grated, however well treated he was or how light his duties. Almost immediately upon his arrival he wrote to Andrew Roner requesting him to procure from John Hughes some of his charmantes poésies en Anglois (Handel preferred to correspond in French), significantly adding that he is studying English and has “made some progress in that language.” The intention is clear; we see the moves of a man who knows very well what he is about. Anyway, there was little for him to do; there was no opera in Hanover, the theatre was given over to a French troupe of comedians, the handful of musicians in residence needed only chamber music, which Handel undoubtedly supplied, and he also composed vocal chamber music for the ladies of the court. The uneventful stay was interrupted by a visit to Halle, where Handel attended the baptism of his niece, Johanna Friderike Michaelsen, who became his favorite and the principal beneficiary of his estate. It was again a short visit, and upon his return he applied for another substantial leave of absence, which was granted. In October 1712, almost two years to the day after his first sett
ing foot on English soil, Handel was back in London—this time forever.

  The only significant compositions that positively originated during the brief second residence in Hanover are a remarkable set of chamber duets. In composing them Handel followed a tradition established by Steffani, whose superb duets were created for use at court musicales, probably sung by ladies-in-waiting, though occasioned by the interest of Princess Caroline. The twelve duets, numbered 3-14 in the Handelgesellschaft edition, composed on texts by Ortensio Mauro, Hanoverian court poet, are quite different from such other vocal chamber music as, for instance, the solo cantata with basso continuo. They are indeed chamber music, the vocal version of the trio sonata: the upper parts are imitative, deploying their counterpoint in the manner of the church sonata, the bass is active but nonthematic, and the harmonic support is furnished by the harpsichord. Since they are prevailingly contrapuntal—some of them vocal fugues with accompaniment—the da capo aria form is infrequently used, and of course recitative and ritornel are absent. Although Steffani’s influence was inescapable (some of the duets, like “Che vai pensando,” actually borrow material from Steffani), Handel was by this time not only vastly experienced, but so sure of his own way that he was able to assert his personality even in a genre for which Steffani was the universally admired model of all musicians—Italian, German, and even French. Perhaps the most interesting aspect of this independence is reflected in Handel’s conduct of the linear element. He can be “strict” with his imitation, even though at times the imitative voice enters at the astonishingly wide distance of twelve or sixteen measures, but just as often this part writing is unpredictable and full of surprises; linear logic is never permitted to harm melodic euphony. The writing is very careful, the curves of the various melodic figures are consciously balanced to create a deliberately sculptured pattern in which controlled tensions are resolved. The number of movements within the duets ranges from one to four, the majority of them having either two or three. Only No. 9 is a true one-movement piece. The sections are always tonally related, often forming a harmonic da capo.

  These duets (as well as the others Handel composed earlier in Italy and later in London) deserve considerable attention because Handel found them a particularly congenial medium. Even in his four-part fugues he often operates with two sets of “duets,” since he was very fond of pairing his vocal parts. We shall see, furthermore, that some of the chamber duets formed the basis for four-part choral pieces; in so enlarging them Handel revealed a musical imagination of the most felicitous sort. Finally, these exquisite works represent a facet of Handel’s musical personality that is often overlooked. The duets differ markedly from his better-known choral works and arias. There is no accent on drama, no brilliant contrast, none of the pomp, solemnity, and grandeur usually associated with the composer of anthems and oratorios. This is music for the drawing room, transparent, intricate, and elegant; chamber music for the elite.

  We are fortunate in possessing most of the great duets—in a fine edition by Johannes Brahms. His realization of the figured bass is a model of taste, scholarship, and of course musicianship. Even where the editor is carried away and actually adds a complementary obbligato part, this is done with such thorough understanding of the style that one is tempted to believe that Handel himself would have realized the figured bass in like manner.

  Other works attributed to the second Hanover stay are German songs, harpsichord music, chamber music, and an oboe concerto or two, but none of them can be confidently assigned to this period—or even to any period before about 1720; our only witness, Chrysander, is not reliable. The German songs are really arias on German texts. Max Seiffert in the Liliencron Festschrift proved that three of the set of twelve must be assigned to the Halle period, not unconvincingly arguing that their text had the same author who in early youth wrote a funeral poem for his late father. The remaining nine songs could not have been composed in Hanover, as Chrysander claimed, for among Handel’s few compositions on German texts they are by far the most mature. Seiffert offers the convincing suggestion that they were composed in Hamburg in 1729, when Handel stopped there on his way back from Italy, where he had gone to recruit singers for his opera company. Handel for some reason took the opportunity to pay homage to the local literary celebrity, Brockes. Though the pietistic moralizing of the eminent Hamburg senator must have been difficult to swallow, Handel, in his usual way when he did not care for a text, concentrated on the texture. These arias have concertante parts for a solo instrument in addition to the voice, and are thus a sort of duet; but the keyboard part can also be elaborate, so that the listener’s attention is engaged by the ensemble as a whole. Portions from these fine songs appear in Acis and Galatea and in Messiah.

  VI

  1712-1720

  Handel in Burlington House—Il Pastor fido—Teseo (1713)—First financial crisis—Birthday Ode and Utrecht Te Deum (1713)—Handel assumes Purcell’s legacy—The English tone appears in Handel’s music —Queen Anne dies, Georg Ludwig proclaimed King, August 1714—George I arrives in London—Truant Hanoverian conductor’s dilemma—Handel composes Silla for Burlington, Amadigi for Haymarket (1715) —Handel firmly in saddle—Begins his financial investments—Jacobite rebellion put down—The King leaves for Hanover followed by Handel —Travels to Halle and Ansbach—Meeting Christoph Schmidt—Disputed visit to Hamburg—The German Passion in the 18th century—Brockes Passion (1716?)—Handel returns to London, end of 1716—Opera season of 1717—Cannons—The Duke of Chandos and his establishment —The “English” compositions—Handel’s sister Dorothea dies (summer of 1718)—Water Music, Concertos, Opus 3—Formation of Royal Academy of Music—Handel goes to the Continent to recruit a troupe, June 1719—Returns late in fall—Academy ready to open

  RETURNED TO LONDON, HANDEL IMMEDIATELY ACTED TO realize two ambitions that were important to him: to take the helm of London’s operatic life, and to secure a pied à terre where he could live and work in undisturbed comfort. His luck with high society held good, and we see him in his usual role, being admired—and maintained. First he lodged in Surrey in the home of a wealthy amateur musician, a Mr. Andrews, about whom nothing is known. Apparently he moved to the Andrews residence immediately upon arrival, which suggests an arrangement made beforehand. Soon Handel found his accustomed level, when he took up his abode in Burlington House, the Piccadilly palace of the Earl of Burlington and his mother, the Dowager Countess Juliana.

  The third Earl of Burlington was an English Arcadian, the counterpart of Roman aristocrats and prelates, and in spite of his tender age—he was only about seventeen at that time—Burlington House was already one of the great “salons” of the early 18th century where “men of first eminence for genius” gathered. One must allow a role in this to the Dowager Countess; nevertheless, that Burlington was a known and respected patron of music is clear from the dedications addressed to him. Both Heidegger and Haym emphasized in their dedications of librettos that his “Lordship has always shown generous concern for the promoting of Theatrical Musick.” Moreover, Burlington House and its master pass even Sir Newman Flower’s closest scrutiny; he could not find any trace of “loose living” that would have made the place and the company unfit for the future composer of Messiah. Handel lived there not unlike Corelli in the Ottoboni palace, in his own apartment; he was altogether independent and left undisturbed even when the Earl was away on extended trips. Just when the move to Burlington House was made is not recorded. It seems to this writer, however, that there must be some connection between Handel’s first settings of ceremonial music to English texts and his residence at Burlington House.

  The Ode for Queen Anne’s Birthday was surely composed there, which would date his residence from 1713, while his opera Teseo was still running. Indeed, now begins the acclimatization, the conversion of the German into the Briton, a process that will be discussed in detail below.

  We also see him at his favorite pastime, playing the organ. Hawkins relates that the fine ne
w instrument in St. Paul’s Cathedral had a particular attraction for Handel. The organist, Richard Brind, and especially the latter’s youthful pupil, Maurice Greene (1695-1755), who later achieved a distinguished career, were full of admiration for Handel’s playing, and for a while Greene and Handel became fast friends. Handel played after evening services, staying long after the delighted congregation as well as the bellows boys had left. Greene obligingly trod the bellows, and Burney reports that on several occasions they had themselves locked in for the night. St. Paul’s Churchyard was the center, the stock exchange of music in London, for both professionals and amateurs. A number of taverns, cafés, and music shops were located nearby, and it was here that persons interested in music (and in the fine services conducted in the Cathedral since 1712) gathered for business and pleasure. Hawkins speaks of Handel’s custom of frequenting Queen Anne’s Tavern in the Churchyard, which was the gathering place of the choristers, and thus becoming better acquainted with these able English musicians. The tavern was equipped with a harpsichord, and there was much music-making as well as gossiping. All these new territories conquered and acquaintances made were to have far-reaching consequences in Handel’s future career, but for the moment the foremost matter of interest to him was opera.