A number of other signs point to an exclusive arrangement for charitable purposes. For all of Handel’s concerts in Dublin, the tickets were obtainable at his house in Abbey Street, but the sale of tickets for Messiah was expressly taken out of his hands; they had to be procured at the music hall itself or at Neale’s music store. Now William Neale was not only the head of the consortium that built the New Music Hall for the Charitable Music Society, but also Secretary of the Dublin Charities’ Commission. Evidently the Society was in complete charge of the production; in fact, they even procured the singers from the cathedral choirs. That this was so is once more documented by the fact that with the repeat performance of Messiah Handel’s privilege of selling tickets at his house —and hence for his own ends—was restored, indicating that the original purpose having been achieved, Handel now “owned” his Messiah.
Mainwaring, speaking of the role Messiah played in the deliverance of the prisoners, wrote: “There was a peculiar propriety in this design from the subject of the Oratorio itself; and there was a peculiar grace in it from the situation of Handel’s affairs.” Messiah remained a work that “fed the hungry, clothed the naked, fostered the orphan” (Burney). Its final popularity was due to its association with the Foundling Hospital; it was the yearly charity performances given in the chapel there from 1750 on under Handel’s leadership that started the oratorio on its unexampled career.
It is highly significant that Handel never again returned to the Christian-contemplative oratorio; there must have been a reason for that. As we shall see, though the reception of the Dublin production was one of the greatest artistic triumphs of his life, when Handel returned to London he at first refrained from presenting the oratorio to the London public. It was only at the end of a very successful run of Samson that he virtually slipped Messiah into his repertory, carefully avoiding even mentioning the title. In all announcements save one, the word Messiah was avoided until 1749; the title was always “A new sacred Oratorio.” Israel in Egypt, which had no libretto paraphrasing the Bible but offered selected lines from Exodus in a musical setting, deeply shocked many Englishmen. So here it was, the unbelievable, Holy Scripture in the flesh, uttered—nay, sung—by the most lascivious and immoral of persons, theatre folk, and accompanied by a detestable band of fiddlers in the Play-House, that damnable institution where no true Christian could enter without being soiled. This indignation contributed to the dismal failure of Israel in Egypt. Considering the situation in London, it was hardly possible that Handel would have contemplated, out of sheer religious ecstasy, a work that quotes not only from the Old Testament, hitherto his only source for oratorio in England, but from the Gospels—episodes from the life of Christ presented in the theatre! The subsequent history of Messiah amply proves that Handel knew what he was doing; he could write such a work for Dublin, where everyone understood its purpose, but not for London. Another remarkable fact should be mentioned here: no score of Messiah appeared in Handel’s lifetime. Samson, composed only a few days after Messiah, was almost immediately published by Walsh, but he made no effort to produce any edition of Messiah, which did not appear until 1763. That there was uncertainty about the advisability of publishing the oratorio, or even the customary selection of “songs,” was demonstrated by William C. Smith (Concerning Handel), who proved that the engraved plates were ready in 1749! It stands to reason that once this great work was in existence, Handel was not disposed to let it languish, and he was not unmindful of its original purpose, to aid charity, which was eventually what made Messiah acceptable to London.
PLATE I
PLATE II
PLATE III
PLATE IV
PLATE V
PLATE VI
PLATE VII
PLATE VIII—Handel’s Competitors
PLATE IX—Handel’s Singers
PLATE X
PLATE XI
PLATE XII
PLATE XIII
PLATE XIV
PLATE XV
PLATE XVI
Now let us examine the musical elements that clearly support the contention that Messiah was composed for a specific occasion, and thus was conditioned by available musical forces.
Contrary to the impression firmly established for almost two centuries, the original orchestra Handel used in Messiah was not massive but slight and delicate. This unusually modest orchestra also indicates that Messiah was planned for the small Dublin State Band under Matthew Dubourg, an ensemble that Swift called “a club of fiddlers.” The ubiquitous oboes and bassoons of the Baroque orchestra were missing; only the two trumpets and kettledrums were added in some of the choruses (one trumpet also appears in one of the arias because the text calls for it). The string body itself was so small that Handel did not find it possible to subdivide it in the concerto grosso manner, as had been his custom; the “senza ripieno” signs first appear in the London performances. Subsequent productions of Messiah saw the orchestra considerably enlarged, the Foundling Hospital parts using a fair concerto-grosso string orchestra of about twenty, four oboes, four bassoons, two each of trumpets, horns, and timpani. We also have at least one set of oboe parts in Handel’s handwriting that he wrote in 1749 to “Their sound is gone out.”
Handel composed the alto arias in Messiah for Mrs. Cibber. As Larsen demonstrated, an aria like “He was despised” could not have been composed with an Italian singer in mind but for one particularly adept at good, affective English declamation. This is corroborated by Burney, who also states that the alto arias “had been originally composed for Mrs. Cibber.” Burney says that “Handel was very fond of Mrs. Cibber, whose voice and manners had softened his severity for her want of musical knowledge.” Susanna Cibber was a great tragedienne who played opposite Garrick, and though her singing voice was minuscule, her power of communication made even Handel forget about her “mere thread of a voice.” Their friendship dated from about 1738, and it rested on mutual fondness.
Mrs. Cibber’s private life is harshly judged by most historians, though it is difficult to see on what they based their strictures. Even Sir Newman Flower, highly suspicious of her—after all, she was an actress—grudgingly admits that Handel’s relationship with her “matured into a great and clean friendship.” A more solid moral affidavit than this is unimaginable. But Susanna was unhappily married to a besotted scoundrel, Theophilus Cibber, the playwright’s son, who pursued her with a lawsuit. Terrified of her vicious husband, she fled to a hideaway, known only to Handel, the actor Quinn (a mutual friend), and one or two other intimates, who visited her frequently. Evidently a public appearance in London was out of the question in 1741. Her friends sought more security for the panic-stricken actress, and Handel must have been party to the plan for Mrs. Cibber to seek refuge in Ireland, out of reach of her husband. Though the first notice of her presence in Dublin is from December 12, 1741, she must have been there earlier, for she was ready to sing in Handel’s concerts from the very beginning.86
Against these facts in support of the opinion that Messiah was composed in response to a particular commission, all that the contrary view can offer are stories of rapture during the composition of Messiah, stories that remain unsubstantiated. Handel is supposed to have sequestered himself in his study for weeks, “barely touching food,” and his servant and the few visitors that were admitted found him alternately weeping or praying, or just staring into eternity, a physical-emotional condition that surely would not permit the incredible achievement of composing this colossal score in twenty-four days. “I did think I did see all Heaven before me and the great God Himself,” he was supposed to have declared. Messiah is a great work clearly conceived with love and creative rapture, its inspired quality being consistently high; nor should anyone doubt Handel’s sincere Christian devotion. But the mental conditions described in these stories are wholly uncharacteristic of both the man and the composer. It is remarkable that in this trance-like state, that marvelous apparatus, Handel’s memory, worked so superbly, for Messiah is
studded with the most imaginative adaptations of Italian love lyrics. To be sure, these were his own compositions, but while there are no foreign borrowings in Messiah, the parody technique is conspicuously present, and that requires far more musical concentration than prayer. We find it rather touching when one of our German colleagues, commenting on the famous statement that Handel “did see the great God Himself,” says that this “is hardly susceptible of proof.” This is a sound step toward a saner approach to Messiah and its role in Handel’s life and work.
Dublin, the Irish capital, the birthplace of Swift and Sheridan and the city where Congreve was brought up, could look back upon a long musical past when Handel’s memorable visit took place. One of her native sons, the monk Tuotilo, who became famous around goo in the Irish settlement of St. Gall, Switzerland, is still remembered with admiration for his Christmas trope, Hodie cantandus est nobis puer. The two cathedrals of the city, though partially rebuilt, are of great antiquity, and their musical history is an honorable one; in Handel’s time they had small but well-appointed choirs. Being Irish, the choristers were good not only at singing: a late 17th-century decree forbade them or anyone else the wearing of swords near the cathedrals. Many fine musicians resided or visited in Dublin; besides Handel, Arne and Geminiani were fond of the city in the 18th century. The reader will remember the stormy career of Sigismund Kusser in Hamburg (see p. 30 f.). After leaving the German maritime city he settled in its Irish counterpart, becoming in 1710 the leading musical light in Dublin. At his death he was succeeded by Matthew Dubourg. A Londoner by birth, Dubourg (1703-1767), a pupil and lifelong friend of Geminiani, was a very good violinist and all-round musician who began his career as a child prodigy at Britton’s concerts in the loft above the “small-coal man’s” bins; Handel liked and trusted him. As Kusser’s successor in 1728 he became vice-regal conductor. Opera started immediately following its introduction in London, and Dublin not only performed Scarlatti’s Pyrrhus and Demetrius in 1711 but imported the famous Nicolini to sing in it. The phenomenal success of the Beggar’s Opera caused a spate of Irish ballad operas, and the London Royal Academy of Music also soon found a replica in Dublin. In 1731 a concert hall was built on Crow Street, and a second very fine hall in Fishamble Street opened its doors in 1741 a few weeks before Handel’s arrival. Though small by modern standards, seating about six hundred, the New Music Hall was excellent; Handel praised it highly. Its normal capacity could be extended when the ladies came without hoops and the gentlemen without swords. This they were requested to do for the performance of Messiah; as a result “an Hundred Persons more” could be accommodated “with full ease.” The request for the ladies to appear without hoops became as firm a custom at important concerts (as long as hoops were worn) as the rising of the audience at the singing of the Hallelujah Chorus.
Dublin had several musical societies, for the Irish were and are a music-loving people, but these societies were unusual in that they were organized for charitable purposes. This was owing to the wretched social conditions in Ireland, compared to which London’s poor and the inmates of her prisons and hospitals were well off. A public-spirited citizenry, shocked by the conditions in the prisons and hospitals, wanted to alleviate the misery of these unfortunates, raising funds for this humanitarian purpose through public concerts. The New Music Hall in Fishamble Street was built at the behest of the Charitable Music Society under the guidance of William Neale, a music publisher, and was known for a while as Neale’s Hall. Since Neale, as we have noted, was also the secretary of Dublin’s Charities Commission, he not only had a commanding position in the great events that were to follow but in all probability was party to the invitation that resulted in the creation and production of Messiah. Many a hopeless prisoner wasting away in jail for paltry debts was freed by payments to his creditor from the proceeds of the concerts.
On November 18 “the celebrated Dr. Handell” arrived in Dublin; the newspapers soon learned he neither possessed the doctor’s degree nor wished to have one. The trip was delayed for several days by unfavorable winds. He must have travelled with an inordinate amount of baggage, for the scores and parts of the eight major works performed, and of the concertos and other numbers, must have filled a large trunk. But apparently he took with him a small organ too, for in one of his letters to Jennens he refers to “my organ.” This is quite probable because the New Music Hall did not as yet have an organ.87 It was the first time that Handel had to rely on untried local forces for the bulk of his performers. We know that he was responsible for the presence in Dublin of Susanna Cibber, and two other singers and the organist were also his appointees. One of these was an Italian soprano, Christina Maria Avoglio, who appeared from nowhere in London in 1740 and just as suddenly disappeared without a trace four years later. She was a good soprano, and Handel took her to Dublin. While waiting in Chester, Handel made the acquaintance of an organist by the name of Maclaine and his wife, a soprano, both of whom he engaged for Dublin. Apparently they were good enough musicians for his purposes, but absolutely nothing further is known about the couple.
On December 14 the subscription sale of tickets began at Handel’s home in Abbey Street, though his first public concert was preceded by a charity event at the Round Church (St. Andrew’s), where the Utrecht Te Deum and Jubilate and one of the Coronation Anthems were performed and Handel played the organ, for which he was officially thanked. The first concert took place on December 23, the program consisting of all three parts of L’Allegro, “two concertos for several instruments, and a concerto on the Organ.” The reception was enthusiastic: “The Performance was superior to any Thing of the Kind in this Kingdom before,” said the Dublin Journal. Handel reported to Jennens in a long letter (Deutsch, 530) that the subscription was such a complete success that for all six nights “I needed not sell one single Ticket at the Door.” He praised the performers and found that “the Musick sounds delightfully in this charming Room, which puts me in such Spirits (and my Health being so good) that I exert myself on my Organ with more than usual Success.” For the rest, this is a careful letter. Handel assures Jennens that “the Words of the Moderato are vastly admired,” and requests his correspondent to convey his “most devoted Respects” to a bevy of aristocratic patrons and friends. The praise bestowed on the poetry of Il Moderato did not prevent Handel from omitting it in subsequent performances in favor of the Ode for St. Cecilia’s Day.
The fare for the ensuing concerts consisted (in addition to a repetition of L‘Allegro) of Acis and Galatea, the Ode for St. Cecilia’s Day, and Esther, each program being repeated together with the various concertos. When only half of them had taken place, the success of the subscription concerts was so manifest that by February 6, 1742, a second series of six concerts was advertised in the Dublin Journal, “on the same Footing as the last.” In this series Handel performed Alexander’s Feast, L’Allegro, Esther, and Hymen. The latter, “a new Serenata,” was in reality a concert performance of Imeneo (see p. 322); Handel still had a lingering fondness for this unlucky opera.
The first announcement of Messiah appeared in the Dublin Journal on March 27. The public rehearsal, held on April 9, was reported in the newspapers as a most successful “elegant Entertainment” and “was allowed by the greatest Judges to be the finest Composition of Musick that ever was heard.” Finally, on April 13, 1742, the “New Grand Sacred Oratorio, called The MESSIAH,” received its official premiere. Signora Avoglio and Mrs. Maclaine took the soprano parts, the altos were Mrs. Cibber, William Lambe, and Joseph Ward, the tenors James Baileys and John Church, and the basses John Hill and John Mason. All the men came from the local church choirs. It will be seen that although Messiah has no dramatic figures (only the four customary vocal designations), Handel employed nine solo singers. This was of some importance, because in contemporary practice the soloists sang with the chorus, and they must have constituted a substantial part of the small ensemble, which was reinforced by several other singers from the two cathedrals.
The Charities Commission, which carried on the negotiations for obtaining the singers with the deans of the cathedrals, had no difficulty with Christ Church, but Dean Swift of St. Patrick’s, already close to a mental collapse, caused them a good deal of anguish. At first he gave the Committee permission to draw six singers from his choir, subsequently denying that he ever gave such permission. The document, printed in Swift’s Correspondence, is more than an irascible man’s animadversions.
And whereas it hath been reported, that I gave a licence to certain vicars [choral] to assist at a club of fiddlers in Fishamble Street, I do hereby declare that I remember no such licence to have been ever signed or sealed by me; and that if ever such pretended licence should be produced, I do hereby annul and vacate the said licence; intreating my said Sub-Dean and Chapter to punish such vicars as shall ever appear there, as songsters, fiddlers, pipers, trumpeters, drummers, drum-majors, or in any sonal quality, according to the flagitious aggravations of their respective disobedience, rebellion, perfidy, and ingratitude. Eventually permission was granted by the intercession of friends.
The orchestra was good—Bumey called it “very respectable”—and since it not only had an excellent drill master in Dubourg but by the time of the performance of Messiah had been functioning through the two sets of subscription concerts and rehearsals under Handel’s exacting leadership, it was in fine shape for the great event. Handel directed from the harpsichord, and Maclaine played the organ. The Dublin papers again spoke of “the most finished piece of Musick” and of “exquisite Delight” but praised even more warmly Handel’s generosity in donating all proceeds to charity (the performers also donated their services). Four hundred pounds was distributed to the three “great and pious Charities,” and 142 prisoners released when their creditors were satisfied.
George Frideric Handel_Dover Books on Music Page 46