From the year 1729 the career of Handel was to be a protracted battle,
in which he was sometimes victorious, sometimes defeated, but always
undaunted and animated with a lofty sense of his own superior power.
Let us take a view of some of the rival musicians with whom he came
in contact. Of all these Bononcini was the most formidable. He came to
England in 1720 with Ariosti, also a meritorious composer. Factions
soon began to form themselves around Handel and Bononcini, and a bitter
struggle ensued between these old foes. The same drama repeated itself,
with new actors, about thirty years afterward, in Paris. Gluck was then
the German hero, supported by Marie Antoinette, and Piccini fought for
the Italian opera under the colors of the king's mistress Du Barry,
while all the _litterateurs_ and nobles ranged themselves on either
side in bitter contest. The battle between Handel and Bononcini, as the
exponents of German and Italian music, was also repeated in after-years
between Mozart and Salieri, Weber and Rossini, and to-day is seen in
the acrimonious disputes going on between Wagner and the Italian school.
Bononcini's career in England came to an end very suddenly. It was
discovered that a madrigal brought out by him was pirated from another
Italian composer; whereupon Bononcini left England, humiliated to the
dust, and finally died obscure and alone, the victim of a charlatan
alchemist, who succeeded in obtaining all his savings.
Another powerful rival of Handel was Porpora, or, as Handel used to
call him, "old Borbora." Without Bononcini's fire or Handel's daring
originality, he represented the dry contrapuntal school of Italian
music. He was also a great singing-master, famous throughout Europe,
and upon this his reputation had hitherto principally rested. He came to
London in 1733, under the patronage of the Italian faction, especially
to serve as a thorn in the side of Handel. His first opera, "Ariadne,"
was a great success; but when he had the audacity to challenge the great
German in the field of oratorio, his defeat was so overwhelming that
he candidly admitted his rival's superiority. But he believed that no
operas in the world were equal to his own, and he composed fifty of them
during his life, extending to the days of Haydn, whom he had the honor
of teaching, while the father of the symphony, on the other hand,
cleaned Por-pora's boots and powdered his wig for him.
Another Italian opponent was Hasse, a man of true genius, who in his old
age instructed some of the most splendid singers in the history of the
lyric stage. He also married one of the most gifted and most beautiful
divas of Europe, Faustina Bordoni. The following anecdote does equal
credit to Hasse's heart and penetration: In after-years, when he had
left England, he was again sent for to take Handel's place as conductor
of opera and oratorio. Hasse inquired, "What! is Handel dead?" On
being told no, he indignantly refused, saying he was not worthy to tie
Handel's shoe-latchets.
There are also Dr. Pepusch, the Anglicized Prussian, and Dr. Greene,
both names well known in English music. Pepusch had had the leading
place, before Handel's arrival, as organist and conductor, and made a
distinct place for himself even after the sun of Handel had obscured all
of his contemporaries. He wrote the music of the "Beggar's Opera," which
was the great sensation of the times, and which still keeps possession
of the stage. Pepusch was chiefly notable for his skill in arranging the
popular songs of the day, and probably did more than any other composer
to give the English ballad its artistic form.
The name of Dr. Greene is best known in connection with choral
compositions. His relations with Handel and Bononcini are hardly
creditable to him. He seems to have flattered each in turn. He upheld
Bononcini in the great madrigal controversy, and appears to have wearied
Handel by his repeated visits. The great Saxon easily saw through the
flatteries of a man who was in reality an ambitious rival, and joked
about him, not always in the best taste. When he was told that Greene
was giving concerts at the "Devil Tavern," near Temple Bar, "Ah!" he
exclaimed, "mein poor friend Toctor Greene--so he is gone to de Tevil!"
From 1732 to 1740 Handel's life presents the suggestive and
often-repeated experience in the lives of men of genius--a soul with a
great creative mission, of which it is half unconscious, partly
yielding to and partly struggling against the tendencies of the age, yet
gradually crystallizing into its true form, and getting consecrated to
its true work. In these eight years Handel presented to the public ten
operas and five oratorios. It was in 1731 that the great significant
fact, though unrecognized by himself and others, occurred, which stamped
the true bent of his genius. This was the production of his first
oratorio in England. He was already playing his operas to empty houses,
the subject of incessant scandal and abuse on the part of his enemies,
but holding his way with steady cheerfulness and courage. Twelve years
before this he had composed the oratorio of "Esther," but it was still
in manuscript, uncared for and neglected. It was finally produced by a
society called Philharmonic, under the direction of Bernard Gates, the
royal chapel-master. Its fame spread wide, and we read these significant
words in one of the old English newspapers: "'Esther,' an English
oratorio, was performed six times, and very full."
Shortly after this Handel himself conducted "Esther" at the Haymarket
by royal command. His success encouraged him to write "Deborah," another
attempt in the same field, and it met a warm reception from the public,
March 17, 1733.
For about fifteen years Handel had struggled heroically in the
composition of Italian operas. With these he had at first succeeded; but
his popularity waned more and more, and he became finally the continued
target for satire, scorn, and malevolence. In obedience to the drift
of opinion, all the great singers, who had supported him at the outset,
joined the rival ranks or left England. In fact it may be almost said
that the English public were becoming dissatisfied with the whole system
and method of Italian music. Colley Cibber, the actor and dramatist,
explains why Italian opera could never satisfy the requirement of
Handel, or be anything more than an artificial luxury in England: "The
truth is, this kind of entertainment is entirely sensational." Still
both Handel and his friends and his foes, all the exponents of musical
opinion in England, persevered obstinately in warming this foreign
exotic into a new lease of life.
The quarrel between the great Saxon composer and his opponents
raged incessantly both in public and private. The newspaper and the
drawing-room rang alike with venomous diatribes. Handel was called a
swindler, a drunkard, and a blasphemer, to whom Scripture even was
not sacred. The idea of setting Holy Writ to music scandalized the
Pharisees, who reveled in the licentious operas and love-songs of
the Italian school. All the small wits of the time showered on Handel
epigram and satire unceasingly. The greatest of all the wits, however,
Alexander Pope, was his firm friend and admirer; and in the "Dunciad,"
wherein the wittiest of poets impaled so many of the small fry of the
age with his pungent and vindictive shaft, he also slew some of the most
malevolent of Handel's foes.
Fielding, in "Tom Jones," has an amusing hit at the taste of the period:
"It was Mr. Western's custom every afternoon, as soon as he was drunk,
to hear his daughter play on the harpsichord; for he was a great lover
of music, and perhaps, had he lived in town, might have passed as a
connoisseur, for he always excepted against the finest compositions of
Mr. Handel."
So much had it become the fashion to criticise Handel's new effects in
vocal and instrumental composition, that some years later Mr. Sheridan
makes one of his characters fire a pistol simply to shock the audience,
and makes him say in a stage whisper to the gallery, "This hint,
gentlemen, I took from Handel."
The composer's Oxford experience was rather amusing and suggestive.
We find it recorded that in July, 1733, "one Handell, a foreigner, was
desired to come to Oxford to perform in music." Again the same writer
says: "Handell with his lousy crew, a great number of foreign fiddlers,
had a performance for his own benefit at the theatre." One of the dons
writes of the performance as follows: "This is an innovation; but every
one paid his five shillings to try how a little fiddling would sit upon
him. And, notwithstanding the barbarous and inhuman combination of such
a parcel of unconscionable scamps, he [Handel] disposed of the most of
his tickets."
"Handel and his lousy crew," however, left Oxford with the prestige of
a magnificent victory. His third oratorio, "Athaliah," was received with
vast applause by a great audience. Some of his university admirers, who
appreciated academic honors more than the musician did, urged him to
accept the degree of Doctor of Music, for which he would have to pay a
small fee. The characteristic reply was a Parthian arrow: "Vat te tevil
I trow my money away for dat vich the blockhead vish'? I no vant!"