1720. "_Suite_" does not signify here a definite form of piano music,
as with Bach and his German predecessors. The word indeed can only be
translated by _series_, or _succession_. In this collection there is
not one actual suite, but a number of different pieces for the piano
are arranged in pleasing alternation. There are dances and variations,
but also preludes and fugues, and finally pieces more in the manner of
the Italian chamber music, which preferred the violin to the piano as
a medium of expression. The caprice of the master here held sovereign
sway. Even his manner of writing for the piano is different from that of
Bach. He had learned more than the latter from Krieger and Kuhnau, and
a certain relationship with the South German piano music is also shown;
it is very significant that he interested himself in the "_Componimenti
Musicali_," by Gottlieb Muffat of Vienna, which appeared in 1735, while,
so far as we know, he took no notice of Bach's piano compositions. It
is, however, certain that he allowed himself to be strongly influenced
by the two Scarlattis; this is plainly shown by the style of his piano
technique, but more especially in his manner of writing piano fugues. In
regard to this, one should examine, by the side of the first collection,
the fourth, published in 1735, which only contains six fugues. The
contents of the second and third are less important. Handel at one time
gave instruction to the royal princesses, and may have written down for
their use much that is included in this collection.
As is readily conceivable, when we consider the school in which his taste
was formed, Handel wrote from preference chamber music in the Italian
style. He has given us solo sonatas with bass, trios for two violins and
bass, _concerti grossi_, and concertos for the organ. But here, also,
he shows an inclination to depart from the forms which, after a gradual
process of development, had become established in 1700, not for the
purpose of making organic improvement in them, but through pure caprice.
Like that of his piano compositions, the music has something of an
improvisatorial and accidental character. It might be different, without
becoming therefore less beautiful and entertaining. The creations which
he offers are by no means always original; we repeatedly find portions
of his compositions for the voice, which he has simply arranged for
instruments. He once went with a clerical friend of his to take a walk
in the Vauxhall gardens on the Thames, at the hour of the usual public
concert. The orchestra began to play and both men drew near to listen.
After a time the old clergyman said: "It is wretched stuff." "You are
right," said Handel, "I thought so myself, after I had written it." But
just in this improvisatorial style lies one of the especial charms of his
instrumental music. It is necessarily unequal in merit, but when the
composer was in the right mood, he accomplished something which delighted
everybody and will always delight anew. Among the twelve _concerti
grossi_ of 1739, the third, in E minor, and the sixth, in G minor, are
works of surpassing beauty. The twelve _concerti_ are only written
for stringed instruments, to which Handel, for the most part confines
himself in works of a different class. This is the Italian fashion.
Bach employs by preference the most diverse sorts of wind instruments
in the six great concertos of 1721. To his complex, contrapuntal style
of writing, moreover, the transparent simplicity of Handel, who always
says exactly what he has to say without circumlocution, but with the
greatest emphasis, offers a sharp contrast. One may say, indeed, that
Handel's _concerti grossi_ are no _concerti_ at all, in Bach's sense of
the word. They have the form of Corelli's sonatas, freely adapted to the
resources of a fuller body of instruments. The organ concertos of Handel
are more in the prescribed form. It has already been observed that the
organ is here treated like a piano of richer tone, and not like a church
instrument, after the manner of Bach. English performers have had the
same idea and have just as often made use of the concertos for piano
music.
[Illustration: Fac-simile autograph manuscript of passage from Handel's
"Messiah."]
The Italian cantatas of Handel are likewise to be regarded as a less
important branch, or even a component part of his operas, just as the
chamber duets, anthems and similar compositions belong in the domain
of his oratorios. For a brief survey of his works, it is therefore
sufficient to confine ourselves to the opera and the oratorio. The
opinion has been widespread and prevails even in our day, that so long
as Handel occupied himself with the opera, he was obstinately pursuing
the wrong path, which he only abandoned after many bitter experiences, in
order henceforth to devote himself to the oratorio, for which nature had
intended him. For it has always been considered one of the most marked
characteristics of genius that it discovers the right way unconsciously,
as it were, and impelled by inward necessity. According to this, Handel,
with his forty operas, would have mistaken his true bent during the best
forty years of his life. The opinion rests, however, upon the theory
of an antithesis between the opera and the oratorio, which has never
existed. During the hundred years preceding Handel's time, the two forms
of art, simultaneous in origin, kept equal pace in their development.
Through the changes wrought in the opera in the middle of the seventeenth
century at Venice, and from the end of that period at Naples, solo
song attained almost complete supremacy in that field, while in the
oratorio there was still room for the chorus. The extraordinary pleasure
derived from solo-singing is shown by the effort made to express the
individual personality in music, and the opportunity of doing this is
what attracted Handel to the opera. If we regard the poetic compositions
employed by him in the light of their dramatic value, their delineation
of character, the systematic management and increasing intensity of the
action, they are not, for the most part, calculated to excite a profound
interest. They are after the manner of all operatic poems in Italy in
1700, and generally derive their material from ancient history or from
mythological lore. But the poets certainly show skill in so arranging
their incidents that the personages concerned find opportunity to give
utterance to their feelings. The portrayal of character, by means of
music, was, then, the object in view. This Handel wished to accomplish in
his operas, and, within the limits which he prescribed for himself, he
was entirely successful. Not psychological processes, but psychological
conditions were what he wished to represent in his arias, and the
progress of the action lies always outside of the principal musical
themes. That this was intentional with him, and also with the Italians
of his time, is proved most clearly by the form of solo-song almost
exclusively employed. The aria, as fashioned by Alessandro Scarlatti, is
only adapted to a feeling which indeed rises above its original state,
but soon returns to it. The recurrence of the first part at the end,
after a weakly contrasting middle portion, is the image of a self-centred
exclusiveness. The direct opposite of this form is that in which a slow
movement is followed by a more rapid one, so that the feeling passes from
rest to motion, from contemplation to activity. This is certainly the
dramatic form, and therefore Handel's opera music is not dramatic in a
narrow sense. But no one will attempt to deny that his style has also its
artistic justification and is sure of producing great effects whenever
the hearer concentrates his attention upon the characteristic picture
presented, rather than upon the suspense resulting from an uninterrupted
continuous action. With inexhaustible inventive power, Handel has drawn
such pictures in his operas. No reproach is less deserved than that he
has acquired a stereotyped manner and turns out his productions as if
they were cast in a mould. Whenever the same forms and turns recur in
his works, they express exactly what is demanded by the situation and
is necessary for the accomplishing of a powerful effect. For the rest,
he seizes every problem firmly and repeats himself as little as the
circumstances of our lives are exactly repeated, even if they sometimes
seem to show a general resemblance. His work, to be sure, lies almost
wholly in the province of simple sensations--complicated, romantic,
psychological conditions are out of his sphere. So-called _ensemble_
movements, in which different persons with strongly-contrasting emotions
confront each other, whose utterances it has become one of the most
interesting tasks of the latter opera-composers to weave together upon
the ground of a certain universal sympathy, are of comparatively rare
occurrence in his compositions. Just as little does he concern himself to
give expression to a mood which proceeds from a single scene, considered
as such. The instrumental accompaniment, which finds herein one of its
heaviest tasks, is always extremely simple and restrained. Everything
really essential finds utterance through the singer. Singers of the
highest order are therefore demanded by his operas, those who have not
only command of the most highly perfected technique of their art, but
whose creative mind enables them to become thoroughly imbued with the
spirit of a piece of music. He lived in a time when the art of song on
every side was in a condition of the highest cultivation, and it was
under such influences that he was able to create those perfect specimens
of characteristic and artistic song, found in almost superabundant
measure in his operas. Because in our time this art has been lost, the
beauty of Handel's opera arias remains for the most part concealed from
us, but that another change will one day take place there is no doubt. An
immediate revolution, to be sure, is not to be expected. Music has fallen
by degrees from that lofty height, and only by degrees can she again
attain unto it. What the operas of Handel will then signify to the world
cannot to-day be even approximately estimated.
[Illustration: STATUE OF HANDEL IN PARIS OPERA HOUSE.
Reproduced from a photograph made for this work by special permission.
One of four life-size statues placed in the vestibule of the Opera House,
at the foot of the grand marble staircase.]
Exactly the same characteristic form of musical representation which is
peculiar to Handel's operas constitutes, in a still greater degree, the
essence of his oratorios. From an external point of view the oratorios
stand higher, because they are produced with so much richer musical
resources and because, in order to employ these properly, a much higher
order of art is required. The chorus, which was almost wholly excluded
from the operas, is here made use of in manifold ways, taking at least
equal rank with the solo-song, while it often predominates. But the
inner worth of the oratorio is greater, because in this we are no
longer concerned with transient emotions, confined to a narrow circle
of fictitious personages, who, in their totality, are indifferent to
us, but with the feelings aroused by momentous events in the world's
history, by the deeds and sorrows of great men and women, by legends
full of the deepest symbolism, by lofty, divine decrees, extending even
to the life, sufferings and resurrection of Christ, the son of God.
The mighty choruses in Handel's oratorios took a powerful hold upon
his contemporaries, to whom they appeared in the light of something
wholly new. His Italian predecessors were more or less wanting in that
sense of the sublime which caused Handel to seize upon such material as
demanded the full co-operation of a large body of singers, and in this
very direction was displayed most strikingly the immense superiority of
his genius and his strength as an artist. The imposing array of figures
which he leads before us in his choral pictures is astounding. From the
simplest choral melodies, like the songs of victory in "Saul" and in
"Judas Maccabaeus," to the gigantically towering, yet easily animated
masses of the chorus in "Israel in Egypt," they stand forth, exuberant in
strength, overpowering in the impression they produce, but at the same
time simple and easily understood, as if they were created by the power
of Nature herself. And in the case of these choruses again, the equipment
and co-operation of the orchestra are limited, the principal task
devolving here also upon the singers. With Bach the effect consists in
the complete blending of organ, chorus, and orchestral tone. The hearer
must be conscious neither of those who sing nor those who play; the
incorporeal essence of melody floats through the spaces of the church. In
listening to Handel's choruses, one rejoices in the consciousness that
it is human beings who are singing. Their tones are like the voice of a
victorious army, of nations blessed by God, of all sympathetic humanity.
The greater the number of people united in the expression of an emotion,
the less of his individualism does each retain. An oratorio chorus,
however marked its character, can still express only feelings of a strong
and simple nature. Joy and sorrow! So far as the meaning of a piece of
music can be interpreted, these two words paraphrase the utterances
of Handel's choruses. Both are to be understood in their fullest
significance; joy, from the bright, childish enjoyment of life, to the
tumultuous bursts of exultation after victory won, from pious adoration
to enthusiastic soaring up to God; sorrow, both as quiet sadness and
deep, intensest mourning. But it is always one of these two emotions,
which resounds full and clear. Mixtures of the two, such as often occur
with Bach, are almost never found in Handel's music.
In the last century, the opinion became fully established that Handel
was pre-eminently great in choral music, and, as there was a sudden
revolution of taste at this time in the line of solo-song, his arias and
glorious recitatives were thrown into the shade. But the only way in
which it is possible to be just to the composer, is to acknowledge the
latter as well as the former, to be necessary for the completeness of
the _ensemble_, and dependent upon each other for their effect. Since
the greater number of Handel's oratorios are biblical in subject, and
since from the beginning a certain edificatory purpose was associated
with this order of work, a strong desire prevailed in Germany to class
them as church music. But to do this is to thrust them out of the free
and elevated position which they rightfully hold. In them the distinction
between the worldly and the ecclesiastical is done away with, nor could
they with propriety be designated as religious in character, for, besides
his biblical material, Handel has also employed for his compositions
profane history (Alexander Balus), ancient mythology (Heracles, Semele,
Acis and Galatea), legendary subjects (Theodora), and pure description
(Alexander's Feast; Allegro and Pensieroso). A noble humanity was the
ideal of his art, and this he has completely realized in his oratorios.
The "Messiah" itself is no exception, but rather crowns them all in this
respect.
[Illustration: COMMEMORATION OF HANDEL IN WESTMINSTER ABBEY.
Reproduced from an engraving published at the time. Drawn by E. F. Burney
and engraved by J. Spilsbury. The plate bears this inscription:
View of the Gallery prepared for the reception of their Majesties,
the Royal Family, Directors, and principal Personages in the Kingdom,
at the Commemoration of Handel in Westminster Abbey.
]
The characteristic musical style which from this time especially
distinguishes the oratorio demands no distinct form of poetry. It is
only necessary that events should be presented which are calculated to
hold the feelings in a continuous state of excitement. The portrayal
of these feelings by means of music can, however, just as well be
accomplished with a narrative text, as in "Israel," a descriptive, as
in the "Allegro," or with one which only _indicates_ events, like the
"Messiah," as with a poem in dramatic form. The latter is most frequently
employed by Handel and is particularly adapted to solo-song; still he
would by no means consent to have his oratorios regarded as real musical
dramas, otherwise it would have been easy for him to produce them on
the stage with full action. He objected to this, because a theatrical
representation seemed to him more likely to diminish than to increase
their effect, by diverting the attention from what was to him of still
more importance in the oratorio than in the opera--the working of pure
music.
It was a long time before Handel's oratorios became naturalized in his
native country. The facilities for presenting them were wanting; in
the small private musical societies, which existed here at that time,
there was not room for works of such gigantic growth. But the centennial
anniversary, erroneously celebrated in England in 1784 and repeated in
1785, with its productions of Handel's works on a previously unheard-of
scale, aroused in the German people a spirit of emulation. In 1786,
1787 and 1788, Johann Adam Hiller organized in Berlin, Leipsic, and
Breslau great performances of the "Messiah," which created a profound
impression. The _Singakademie_ founded in Berlin in 1791 proceeded to
occupy itself diligently with Handel, and on the model of this there
soon arose a number of choral societies, which did the same thing. After
the year 1810 great musical festivals began to be held, and it was not
long before Handel's oratorios constituted their principal material. At
the most important of these, the Rhenish, which was established in 1818,
thirty-four oratorios, or other great choral compositions of Handel,
were given in the course of forty-four performances. But as yet, it must
be said, full justice has only been done to the choruses of these great
works; for an adequate rendering of the solo portions, the vocal culture
of our time is not yet sufficient.
Several attempts at a complete edition of Handel's works have been
already made; two of these were in England, in 1784 and 1840
respectively, but both were failures. On the occasion of the one
hundredth anniversary of the composer's death, in the year 1859, the
German Handel Society was founded for the express purpose of finally
accomplishing the desired result. The editor of the edition is Friedrich
Chrysander, and the work, intended to consist of one hundred volumes,
is approaching completion. For the first time, all the operas are here
published in connection with the oratorios. The inestimable service
rendered by Chrysander is not, however, limited to this task. He is also
the author of a biography of Handel (Leipsic, Breitkopf und Härtel),
which far surpasses all earlier works upon this subject and may be
reckoned among the best productions of our century, in the line of
scientific musical literature.
[Illustration: Philipp Spitta]
[Illustration: HANDEL'S HARPSICHORD.]
[Illustration: CHRISTOPH WILIBALD GLUCK.
_Reproduction of a photograph from an oil portrait by J. S. Duplessis,
Paris, 1776. Gluck in his sixty-second year._ (_See page 223._)]
FOOTNOTES:
[Footnote 3: To the latter Charles Jennings had appended verses forming a
third part: "_Il moderato_."]
[Illustration: Gluck]
[Illustration]
CHRISTOPH WILIBALD GLUCK
Poetry and Music, gracious twin-sisters sent from Heaven to comfort
suffering humanity, are seldom intimately united in the history of Art;
it may even be affirmed that the story of their evolution presents a
picture of ceaseless struggle in which the one is ever striving for
mastery over the other. Although these sister-arts (neither of which can
claim the right of primogeniture) at the time of the highest development
of Greek art displayed in united action an inconceivable power which has
never since been attained, they were compelled after a brief period, with
the rise of sophistic philosophy, to descend from that lofty position.
While language and music were developed as separate arts it was indeed
possible for them individually to reach a state of perfection, but the
efficiency subsequently attained by united strength and harmonious
coalescence was then impossible.
In like manner in the Middle Ages poetry and music strove for supremacy.
After the solemn melodies of St. Gregory, linked so closely with the
words, had comforted, inspired and sustained the Western World in a time
of her deepest abasement, song, which had been hitherto for one voice,
developed into polyphony, and with this mighty advance in music the
friendly relations between these arts was once more disturbed. In the joy
at overcoming difficulties which part-music offered the composers as well
as the singers, the former completely lost sight of their duty toward
the words, and were so utterly indifferent to the text of vocal work
that they did not hesitate to use in the same piece two poems upon quite
different subjects, yes, even in different languages, and in so doing
argued, and not without reason, that in the intricacy of the vocal parts
the words would scarcely be heard.
At the appearance of the modern opera in the year 1600, the struggle
of the two sister-arts was especially severe. Even as proposed by
its founders, who saw in it a revival of the antique drama, poets and
composers, during the first decades, were eager to coöperate. When,
however, the passion for the opera was no longer confined to the circle
of the aristocracy, when special buildings had been erected to which
the public could gain access for a consideration (the "Cassiano" in
Venice, in 1637, being the first), the noble simplicity striven for
by those lovers of antiquity came to an end. The popular craving for
the spectacular and the desire for music which was pleasing to the ear
strongly affected the further growth of the opera. In Italy, which
country in the course of the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries set the
fashion for all Europe in operatic and musical matters, the public was
especially enthusiastic over strong, well-trained voices. No matter how
high the point of perfection reached by the art of singing, the singers,
male and female, received but one-sided recognition. Soon these obtained
undisputed control of the opera; in order to please the taste of the
masses, directors, even poets and composers felt obliged to surrender.
For them only was the libretto arranged, and in order to satisfy their
vanity did the composer tax his imagination. In vain did truly artistic
men--among them the Venetian composer Benedetto Marcello with his satire
"Il teatro alla moda" (1720)--raise their voices against "the mighty
abuse of music at the cost of the sister-arts," their warning words fell
unheeded. It was reserved for a German, after a desperate struggle, to
put an end to the nuisance of the singers' sovereignty and to give once
more to the opera a truly artistic significance, and this German was
Gluck.