HANDEL.
George Frederick Handel was born at Halle, in Lower Saxony, Feb. 23, 1685, and like many another composer revealed his musical promise at a very early age, only to encounter parental opposition. His father intended him to be a lawyer; but Nature had her way, and in spite of domestic antagonism triumphed. The Duke of Saxe-Weissenfels recognized his ability and overcame the father’s determination. Handel began his studies with Zachau, organist of the Halle cathedral. After the death of his father, in 1697, he went to Hamburg, and for a time played in the orchestra of the German opera. It was during his residence in that city that he wrote his first opera, “Almira” (1705). In the following year he went to Italy, where he remained several months under the patronage of the Grand Duke of Florence. During the next two years he visited Venice, Rome, and Naples, and wrote several operas and minor oratorios. In 1709 he returned to Germany, and the Elector of Hanover, subsequently George I. of England, offered him the position of capellmeister, which he accepted upon the condition that he might visit England, having received many invitations from that country. The next year he arrived in London and brought out his opera of “Rinaldo,” which proved a great success. At the end of six months he was obliged to return to his position in Hanover; but the English success made him impatient of the dulness of the court. In 1712 he was in London again, little dreaming that the Elector would soon follow him as king. Incensed with him for leaving Hanover, the King at first refused to receive him; but some music which Handel composed for an aquatic fête in his honor brought about the royal reconciliation. In 1718 he accepted the position of chapel-master to the Duke of Chandos, for whom he wrote the famous Chandos Te Deum and Anthems, the serenata “Acis and Galatea,” and “Esther,” his first English oratorio. In 1720 he was engaged as director of Italian opera by the society of noblemen known as the Royal Academy of Music, and from that time until 1740 his career was entirely of an operatic character. Opera after opera came from his pen. Some were successful, others failed. At first composer, then director, he finally became impresario, only to find himself confronted with bitter rivalry, especially at the hands of Bononcini and Porpora. Cabals were instituted against him. Unable to contend with them alone, he formed a partnership with Heidegger, proprietor of the King’s Theatre, in 1729. It was broken in 1734, and he took the management of Covent Garden. The Italian conspiracies against him broke out afresh. He failed in his undertaking and became a bankrupt. Slanders of all sorts were circulated, and his works were no longer well received. In the midst of his adversity sickness overtook him, ending with a partial stroke of paralysis. When sufficiently recovered he went to the Continent, where he remained for a few months. On his return to London he brought out some new works, but they were not favorably received. A few friends who had remained faithful to him persuaded him to give a benefit concert, which was a great success. It inspired him with fresh courage; but he did not again return to the operatic world. Thenceforward he devoted himself to oratorio, in which he made his name famous for all time. He himself said: “Sacred music is best suited to a man descending in the vale of years.” “Saul” and the colossal “Israel in Egypt,” written in 1740, head the list of his wonderful oratorios. In 1741 he was invited to visit Ireland. He went there in November, and many of his works were produced during the winter and received with great enthusiasm. In April, 1742, his immortal “Messiah” was brought out at Dublin. It was followed by “Samson,” “Joseph,” “Semele,” “Belshazzar,” and “Hercules,” which were also successful; but even in the midst of his oratorio work his rivals did not cease their conspiracies against him, and in 1744 he was once more a bankrupt. For over a year his pen was idle. In 1746 the “Occasional Oratorio” and “Judas Maccabæus” appeared, and these were speedily followed by “Joshua,” “Solomon,” “Susanna,” “Theodora,” and “Jephthah.” It was during the composition of the last-named work that he was attacked with the illness which finally proved fatal. He died April 14, 1759, and was buried in Westminster Abbey. During the last few days of his life he was heard to express the wish that “he might breathe his last on Good Friday, in hopes of meeting his good God, his sweet Lord and Saviour, on the day of His resurrection.” The wish was granted him; for it was on Good Friday that he passed away, leaving behind him a name and fame that will be cherished so long as music retains its power over the human heart.
Acis and Galatea.
The first idea of Handel’s famous pastoral, “Acis and Galatea,” is to be found in a serenata, “Aci, Galatea, e Polifemo,” which he produced at Naples in July, 1708. The plan of the work resembles that of the later pastoral, though its musical setting is entirely different.[21] Little was known of it however until nearly a quarter of a century afterwards, when the composer revived portions of it in one of his London concerts, as will shortly be seen.
In 1718 Handel entered the service of James, Duke of Chandos, as chapel-master, succeeding Dr. Pepusch. His patron had accumulated an immense fortune and spent it in a princely manner. He had built a marble palace, at an enormous expense, at Cannons in Middlesex, where he lived in almost regal state. It was the chapel attached to this mansion over which Handel was called to preside, and there were ready for his use a large choir, a band of instrumental performers, and a fine organ. The anthems and services of his predecessor were laid aside, and that year Handel’s busy pen supplied two new settings of the Te Deum and the twelve Chandos Anthems, which are really cantatas in form. His first English opera, “Esther,” was also composed at Cannons, and was followed by the beautiful pastoral which forms the subject of this sketch. “Esther” was first performed Aug. 20, 1720, and it is generally agreed that “Acis and Galatea” followed it in the same year, though Schoelcher in his biography assigns 1721 as the date. Nine characters are contained in the original manuscript,—Galatea, Clori, and Eurilla, sopranos; Acis, Filli, Dorinda, and Damon, altos; Silvio, tenor; and Polifemo, bass.
After this private performance the pastoral was not again heard from until 1731-32, when it was given under peculiar circumstances. On the 13th of March, 1731, it was performed for the benefit of one Rochetti, who took the rôle of Acis; but with this representation Handel had nothing to do. The act of piracy was repeated in the following year, when Mr. Arne, father of Dr. Arne the composer, and the lessee of the Little Theatre in the Haymarket, announced its performance as follows:—
“At the new theatre in the Haymarket, on Thursday next, 11th May, will be performed in English a pastoral opera called ‘Acis and Galatea,’ with all the choruses, scenes, machines, and other decorations, etc. (as before), being the first time it was ever performed in a theatrical way. The part of Acis by Mr. Mourtier, being the first time of his appearance in character on any stage; Galatea, Miss Arne.[22] Pit and boxes, 5s.”
Handel had taken no notice of the 1731 performance; but this representation, given at a theatre directly opposite the one of which he was manager, roused his resentment, though piracy of this kind was very common in those days. He determined to outdo the manager “over the way.” On the 5th of June he announced in the “Daily Journal”:—
“In the King’s Theatre in the Haymarket, the present Saturday, being the 10th of June, will be performed a serenata called ‘Acis and Galatea,’ formerly composed by Mr. Handel, and now revised by him, with several additions, and to be performed by a great number of the best voices and instruments. There will be no action on the stage,[23] but the scene will represent in a picturesque manner a rural prospect, with rocks, groves, fountains, and grottos, among which will be disposed a chorus of nymphs and shepherds; the habits, and every other decoration, suited to the subject. Also on the 13th, 17th, 20th. The libretto printed for J. Watts, in three acts.”
The rival establishment had produced the work as it was originally given at Cannons; but as intimated in his advertisement, Handel made additions, interpolating a number of airs and choruses from the serenata which he had composed at Naples, thus requiring the work to be sung both in Italian and English,—a polyglot practice from which our own times are not exempt. The part of Acis was sung by Senesino, a male soprano; Galatea by Signora Strada; and Polyphemus by Montagnana. The other parts—Clori and Eurilla sopranos, Filli and Dorinda contraltos, and Silvio tenor—were also represented. It was performed eight times in 1732, and was brought out in the same form at Oxford in 1733; but in 1739 Handel restored it to its original shape as it had been given at Cannons. It is now generally performed in two parts with the three characters Galatea, Acis, and Polyphemus, and choruses of nymphs and shepherds.
The pretty pastoral will always possess more than ordinary interest, as four celebrated poets are represented in the construction of the poem. Gay wrote the most of it. It also contains a strophe by Hughes, a verse by Pope,[24] and an extract from Dryden’s translation of the Galatea myth in the Metamorphoses of Ovid.[25] The story is based on the seventh fable in the thirteenth book of the Metamorphoses,—the sad story which Galatea, daughter of Nereus, tells to Scylla. The nymph was passionately in love with the shepherd Acis, son of Faunus and of the nymph Symœthis, and pursued him incessantly. She too was pursued by Polyphemus, the one-eyed Cyclops of Ætna, contemner of the gods. One day, reclining upon the breast of Acis, concealed behind a rock, she hears the giant pouring out to the woods and mountains his story of love and despair: “I, who despise Jove and the heavens and the piercing lightnings, dread thee, daughter of Nereus; than the lightnings is thy wrath more dreadful to me. But I should be more patient under these slights if thou didst avoid all men. For why, rejecting the Cyclop, dost thou love Acis? And why prefer Acis to my embraces?” As he utters these last complaints, he espies the lovers. Then, raging and roaring so that the mountains shook and the sea trembled, he hurled a huge rock at Acis and crushed him. The shepherd’s blood gushing forth from beneath the rock was changed into a river; and Galatea, who had fled to the sea, was consoled.
The overture to the work, consisting of one movement, is thoroughly pastoral in its style and marked by all that grace and delicacy which characterize the composer’s treatment of movements of this kind. It introduces a chorus (“O the Pleasures of the Plains!”) in which the easy, careless life of the shepherds and their swains is pictured. Galatea enters seeking her lover, and after the recitative, “Ye verdant Plains and woody Mountains,” relieves her heart with an outburst of melodious beauty:—
“Hush, ye pretty warbling choir!
Your thrilling strains
Awake my pains
And kindle fierce desire.
Cease your song and take your flight;
Bring back my Acis to my sight.”
Acis answers her, after a short recitative, with another aria equally graceful (“Love in her Eyes sits playing and sheds delicious Death”). The melodious and sensuous dialogue is continued by Galatea, who once more sings:—
“As when the dove
Laments her love
All on the naked spray;
When he returns
No more she mourns,
But loves the live-long day.
Billing, cooing,
Panting, wooing,
Melting murmurs fill the grove,
Melting murmurs, lasting love.”—
Then in a duet, sparkling with the happiness of the lovers (“Happy We”), closing with chorus to the same words, this pretty picture of ancient pastoral life among the nymphs and shepherds comes to an end.
In the second part there is another tone both to scene and music. The opening chorus of alarm (“Wretched Lovers”) portends the coming of the love-sick Cyclops; the mountains bow, the forests shake, the waves run frightened to the shore as he approaches roaring and calling for “a hundred reeds of decent growth,” that on “such pipe” his capacious mouth may play the praises of Galatea. The recitative, “I melt, I rage, I burn,” is very characteristic, and leads to the giant’s love-song, an unctuous, catching melody almost too full of humor and grace for the fierce brute of Ætna:—
“O ruddier than the cherry!
O sweeter than the berry!
O nymph more bright
Than moonshine night,
Like kidlings, blithe and merry.
“Ripe as the melting cluster,
No lily has such lustre.
Yet hard to tame
As raging flame,
And fierce as storms that bluster.”
In marked contrast with this declaration follows the plaintive tender song of Acis (“Love sounds the Alarm”). Galatea appeals to him to trust the gods, and then the three join in a trio (“The Flocks shall leave the Mountain”). Enraged at his discomfiture, the giant puts forth his power. He is no longer the lover piping to Galatea and dissembling his real nature, but a destructive raging force; and the fragment of mountain which he tears away buries poor Acis as effectually as Ætna sometimes does the plains beneath. The catastrophe accomplished, the work closes with the sad lament of Galatea for her lover (“Must I my Acis still bemoan?”) and the choral consolations of the shepherds and their swains:—
“Galatea, dry thy tears,
Acis now a god appears;
See how he rears him from his bed!
See the wreath that binds his head!
Hail! thou gentle murmuring stream;
Shepherds’ pleasure, Muses’ theme;
Through the plains still joy to rove,
Murmuring still thy gentle love.”
[21] The superior attractions of the English serenata will probably prevent the earlier work from ever becoming a popular favorite; more especially since the rôle of Polifemo needs a bass singer with a voice of the extraordinary compass of two octaves and a half.—Rockstro’s Life of Handel.
[22] Miss Arne, afterwards Mrs. Cibber, enjoyed, under the latter name, a great reputation as a singer. Her husband was Theophilus Cibber, the brother of Colley Cibber, a poet laureate in the reign of George II.—Schoelcher’s Life of Handel.
[23] This undoubtedly is the manner in which this charming little piece ought to be performed. It is a dramatic poem, but not an acting play, and the incidents are such as cannot be represented on the stage. A few years ago another attempt was made to perform it as an opera, but without success. Polyphemus is entirely an ideal character, and any attempt to personate him must be ridiculous; and the concluding scene, in which the giant throws a huge rock at the head of his rival, produced shouts of merriment. “Acis and Galatea” is performed in an orchestra in the manner in which oratorios are performed; but its effect would certainly be heightened by the picturesque scenery and decorations employed by Handel himself.—Hogarth’s Musical Drama.
“Not showers to larks so pleasing,
Not sunshine to the bee,
Not sleep to toil so easing,
As these dear smiles to me.”
“Help! Galatea! Help, ye parent gods!
And take me dying to your deep abodes.”
Alexander’s Feast.
Handel composed the music for Dryden’s immortal ode in 1736. In the original score the close of the first part is dated January 5, and the end of the work January 17, showing rapid composition. Three years before this time he had had a violent quarrel with Senesino, his principal singer at the opera-house in the Haymarket, which led to his abandonment of the theatre and its occupancy by his rival, Porpora. After an unsuccessful attempt to compete with the latter, which nearly bankrupted him in health and purse, he decided to quit opera altogether. He sought relief for his physical ailments at Aix-la-Chapelle, and upon his return to London in October, 1735, publicly announced that “Mr. Handel will perform Oratorios and have Concerts of Musick this Winter at Covent Garden Theatre.” One of the first works for these concerts was “Alexander’s Feast,” completed, as stated above, Jan. 17, 1736. The poem was prepared by Newburgh Hamilton, who says in his preface:—
“I determined not to take any unwarrantable liberty with the poem, which has long done honor to the nation, and which no man can add to or abridge in anything material without injuring it. I therefore confined myself to a plain division of it into airs, recitatives or choruses, looking upon the words in general so sacred as scarcely to violate one in the order of its first place. How I have succeeded the world is to judge, and whether I have preserved that beautiful description of the passions, so exquisitely drawn, at the same time I strove to reduce them to the present taste in sounds. I confess my principal view was, not to lose this favorable opportunity of its being set to music by that great master who has with pleasure undertaken the task, and who only is capable of doing it justice; whose compositions have long shown that they can conquer even the most obstinate partiality, and inspire life into the most senseless words. If this entertainment can in the least degree give satisfaction to the real judges of poetry or music, I shall think myself happy in having promoted it; being persuaded that it is next to an improbability to offer the world anything in those arts more perfect than the united labors and utmost efforts of a Dryden and a Handel.”
In addition to the preface Hamilton appended a poem “To Mr. Handel on his setting to Musick Mr. Dryden’s Feast of Alexander,” in which he enthusiastically sings:—
“Two glowing sparks of that celestial flame
Which warms by mystick art this earthly frame,
United in one blaze of genial heat,
Produced this piece in sense and sounds complete.
The Sister Arts, as breathing from one soul,
With equal spirit animate the whole.
Had Dryden lived the welcome day to bless,
Which clothed his numbers in so fit a dress,
When his majestick poetry was crowned
With all your bright magnificence of sound,
How would his wonder and his transport rise,
Whilst famed Timotheus yields to you the prize!”
The work was first performed at Covent Garden Theatre, February 19, about a month after it was written; the principal singers being Signora Strada, Miss Young,[26] John Beard, and Mr. Erard. It met with remarkable success. The London “Daily Post,” on the morning after its production, said:—
“Never was upon the like Occasion so numerous and splendid an Audience at any Theatre in London, there being at least 1,300 Persons present; and it is judged that the Receipt of the House could not amount to less than £450.”
It was repeated four times, and then withdrawn to make room for “Acis and Galatea” and the oratorio of “Esther.” In March, 1737, it was revived, with two additional choruses made by Hamilton for the work; and upon the same occasion an Italian cantata in praise of Saint Cecilia was sung.
It is unnecessary to inform the reader of the nature of a poem familiar the world over. The overture is written for strings and two oboes. Throughout the work the orchestration is thin, bassoons and horns being the only instruments added to those named above; but in 1790 Mozart amplified the accompaniments,—an improvement which he also made for the score of “Acis and Galatea.” The great solos of the composition are the furious aria, “‘Revenge, Revenge!’ Timotheus cries,” and the descriptive recitative, “Give the Vengeance due to the valiant Crew,” in which Handel employs his imitative powers with consummate effect. Clouet, in his “Chants Classiques,” says of the passage “And the king seized a flambeau with zeal to destroy:—
“He paints Alexander issuing forth in the midst of an orgie, arming himself with a torch, and followed by his generals, running to set fire to Persepolis. While the accompaniment sparkles with the confused and unequal glare of the torches, the song expresses truthfully the precipitation and the tumult of the crowd, the rolling of the flames, and the living splendor of a conflagration.”
The choruses of the work are equally strong, and some of them are among the best Handel ever wrote, particularly, “He sang Darius great and good,” “Break his Bands of Sleep asunder,” “Let old Timotheus yield the Prize,” and “The many rend the Skies with loud Applause.” They are as genuine inspirations as the best choruses of the “Messiah” or of “Israel in Egypt.”
In 1739 Handel also set to music Dryden’s shorter “Ode for St. Cecilia’s Day,” beginning,
“From Harmony, from heavenly Harmony
This universal frame began,”
the music for which had been originally composed in 1687 by Giovanni Baptista Draghi, an Italian, who was music-master to Queen Anne and Queen Mary, and at that time was organist to Catharine of Braganza, widow of Charles II. Handel’s setting was first performed on the anniversary of the saint’s festival, Nov. 22, 1739. The programme announced:
“Lincoln’s Inn Fields. At the Theatre Royal in Lincoln’s Inn Fields, Thursday next, November 22 (being St. Cecilia’s Day), will be performed an Ode of Mr. Dryden’s, with two new Concertos for several instruments, which will be preceded by Alexander’s Feast and a Concerto on the organ.”
Though one of the shortest of his vocal works, it contains some magnificent choruses.
[26] Cecilia, a pupil of Geminiani, and afterwards wife of Dr. Arne.
L’Allegro.
“L’Allegro, il Penseroso ed il Moderato,” the first two movements of which contain a musical setting of Milton’s well-known poem, was written in the seventeen days from Jan. 19 to Feb. 6, 1740, and was first performed on the 27th of the latter month at the Royal Theatre, Lincoln’s Inn Fields, London. Upon this occasion the first and second parts were preceded, according to the handbook, by “a new concerto for several instruments,” and the third by “a new concerto on the organ,” which was played by the composer himself. It was performed again Jan. 31, 1741, with the addition of ten new numbers to the music, which in the original manuscript appear at the end, marked by Handel, “l’Additione.” At a still later period Handel omitted the third part (“Moderato”) entirely, and substituted for it Dryden’s “Ode on St. Cecilia’s Day,” which he composed in 1739.
The text of the first two parts is by Milton, Allegro, as is well known, chanting the praises of pleasure, Penseroso those of melancholy; Allegro represented by tenor and Penseroso by soprano, and each supported by a chorus which joins in the discussion of the two moods. There is a radical difference between the poem as Milton wrote it and as it appears set to Handel’s music. Milton presented two distinct poems, though allied by antithesis, and Penseroso does not speak until Allegro has finished. In the poem as adapted for music they alternate in sixteen strophes and antistrophes. The adaptation of these two parts was made by Charles Jennens, who was a frequent collaborator with Handel.[27] He also suggested the addition of a third part, the Moderato, and wrote the words, in which he counsels both Allegro and Penseroso to take the middle course of moderation as the safest. The wisdom of the poet in suggesting the via media is more to be commended than his boldness in supplementing Milton’s stately verse with commonplaces, however wise they may have been. Chrysander, the German biographer of Handel presents a philosophical view of the case. He says:
“In the two pictures a deeply thoughtful mind has fixed for itself two far-reaching goals. With these the poem has reached its perfect end, and in the sense of its inventor there is nothing further to be added. The only possible, the only natural outlet was that into a life of action, according to the direction which the spirit now should take; already it was the first step into this new domain which called forth the divided feeling. The two moods do not run together into any third mood as their point of union, but into active real life, as different characters, forever separate. Therefore ‘Moderation’ could not bring about the reconciliation; only life could do it; not contemplation, but deeds. Gladness and Melancholy are symptoms of a vigorous soul; moderation would be mediocrity. And herein lies the unpoetic nature of the addition by Jennens; read according to Milton, the concluding moral of a rich English land-owner whose inherited abundance points to nothing but a golden mean, and whose only real problem is to keep the balance in the lazy course of an inactive life, makes a disheartening impression.”
The work as a whole is one of Handel’s finest inspirations. The Allegro is bright and spirited throughout; the Penseroso grave and tender; and the Moderato quiet and respectable, as might be expected of a person who never experiences the enthusiasms of joy or the comforts of melancholy. The most of the composition is assigned to solo voices which carry on the discussion, though in the Moderato it is mainly the chorus which urges the sedate compromise between the two.
The work opens without overture, its place having originally been supplied by an orchestral concerto. In vigorous and very dramatic recitative Allegro bids “loathed Melancholy” hence, followed by Penseroso, who in a few bars of recitative far less vigorously consigns “vain, deluding joys” to “some idle brain;” Allegro replies with the first aria (“Come, come, thou Goddess fair”), a beautifully free and flowing melody, responded to by Penseroso, who in an aria of stately rhythm appeals to his goddess, “Divinest Melancholy.” Now Allegro summons his retinue of mirth:—
“Haste thee, nymph, and bring with thee
Jest and youthful jollity,
Quips and cranks and wanton wiles,
Nods and becks and wreathèd smiles,
Such as hang on Hebe’s cheek,
And love to live in dimple sleek,
Sport, that wrinkled care derides,
And Laughter, holding both his sides;”
and the chorus takes up the jovial refrain in the same temper. The aria itself is well known as the laughing song. Indeed, both aria and chorus are full of unrestrained mirth, and go laughingly along in genuine musical giggles.[28] The effect is still further enhanced by the next aria for Allegro (“Come and trip it as you go”), a graceful minuet, which is also taken by the chorus. After a recitative by Penseroso (“Come, pensive Nun”), and the aria, “Come, but keep thy wonted State” the first Penseroso chorus occurs (“Join with thee calm Peace and Quiet”), a short but beautiful passage of tranquil harmony. Once more in recitative Allegro bids “loathed Melancholy” hence, and then in the aria, “Mirth, admit me of thy Crew,” leading into a chorus, sings of the lark, “startling dull Night” and bidding good-morrow at his window,—a brilliant number accompanied with an imitation of the lark’s song. Penseroso replies with an equally brilliant song (“Sweet Bird, that shuns’t the Noise of Folly”), in which the nightingale plays the part of accompaniment. Another aria by Allegro (“Mirth, admit me of thy Crew”) gives an opportunity for a blithe and jocund hunting-song for the bass, followed by one of the most beautiful numbers in the work (“Oft on a Plat of rising Ground”) sung by Penseroso, in which the ringing of the far-off curfew, “swinging slow, with sullen roar,” is introduced with telling effect. This is followed by a quiet meditative aria (“Far from all Resorts of Mirth”), when once again Allegro takes up the strain in the two arias, “Let me wander not unseen,” and “Straight mine Eye hath caught new Pleasures.” The first part closes with the Allegro aria and chorus (“Or let the merry Bells ring round”), full of the very spirit of joy and youth; and ending with an exquisite harmonic effect as the gay crowd creep to bed, “by whispering winds soon lulled to sleep.”
The second part begins with a stately recitative and aria by Penseroso (“Sometimes let gorgeous Tragedy”), followed by one of the most characteristic arias in the work (“But O, sad Virgin, that thy Power might raise!”) in which the passage,
“Or bid the soul of Orpheus sing
Such notes as warbled to the string
Drew iron tears down Pluto’s cheek,”
is accompanied by long persistent trills that admirably suit the words. The next number (“Populous Cities please me then”) is a very descriptive solo for Allegro, with chorus which begins in canon form for the voices and then turns to a lively movement as it pictures the knights celebrating their triumphs and the “store of ladies” awarding prizes to their gallants. Again Allegro in a graceful aria sings, “There let Hymen oft appear.” It is followed by a charming canzonet (“Hide me from Day’s garish Eye”) for Penseroso, which leads to an aria for Allegro (“I’ll to the well-trod Stage anon”), opening in genuinely theatrical style, and then changing to a delightfully melodious warble at the words,—
“Or sweetest Shakspeare, Fancy’s child,
Warble his native wood-notes wild.”
This is followed by three characteristic arias, “And ever, against eating Cares,” “Orpheus himself may heave his Head,” and “These Delights, if thou canst give,”—the last with chorus. Penseroso has a short chorus in plain but stately harmony (“There let the pealing Organ blow”), with pauses for the organ ad libitum, followed by the aria, “May at last my weary Age,” and the majestic devotional fugued chorus, “These Pleasures, Melancholy, give!” which close the second part.
The third part, “Il Moderato,” is rarely given, and the work may well close with the fugue that so beautifully and harmoniously ends the second part. It opens with an aria in which Moderato tenders the sage advice:—
“Come, with native lustre shine,
Moderation, grace divine,
Whom the wise God of nature gave,
Mad mortals from themselves to save.
Keep as of old the middle way,
Nor deeply sad nor idly gay;
But still the same in look and gait,
Easy, cheerful, and sedate,
Keep as of old the middle way.”
With such didactic commonplaces as the above, Moderato commends temperance, health, contentment, frugality, equanimity, and chaste love, and bids them,—
“Come, with gentle hand restrain
Those who fondly court their bane;
One extreme with caution shunning,
To another blindly running.
Kindly teach how blest are they
Who nature’s equal rules obey,
Who safely steer two rocks between,
And prudent keep the golden mean.”
Thus Mr. Jennens’s mild philosophy goes on, one of his verses, “As steals the Morn upon the Night,” set to a brilliant tenor and soprano duet, followed by the closing chorus, “Thy Pleasures, Moderation, give,” in full, broad, rich harmony. There needs no other proof of Handel’s genius, than that he could link such Tupperisms to his grand measures.
[27] Jennens was an amateur poet of the period, descended from a manufacturing family of Birmingham, from whom he inherited a large fortune. He lived on terms of close intimacy with Handel, and was mentioned in his will. He died Nov. 20, 1773.
[28] I was lucky enough to meet with the approbation of Mr. Bates in the recitative of “Deeper and deeper still;” my next song was the laughing one. Mr. Harrison, my predecessor at those concerts, was a charming singer: his singing “Oft on a plat of rising ground,” his “Lord, remember David,” and “O come let us worship and fall down,” breathed pure religion. No divine from the pulpit, though gifted with the greatest eloquence, could have inspired his auditors with a more perfect sense of duty to their Maker than Harrison did by his melodious tones and chaste style; indeed, it was faultless: but in the animated songs of Handel he was very deficient. I heard him sing the laughing song without moving a muscle, and determined, though it was a great risk, to sing it my own way, and the effect produced justified the experiment; instead of singing it with the serious tameness of Harrison, I laughed all through it, as I conceived it ought to be sung, and as must have been the intention of the composer. The infection ran; and their Majesties, and the whole audience, as well as the orchestra, were in a roar of laughter, and a signal was given from the royal box to repeat it, and I sang it again with increased effect.—Michael Kelly’s Reminiscences, 1789.
