Nouvellettes of the musicians

by E. F. Ellet

Händel sat a few moments in silence, looking gloomily from one to another, around the circle. Suddenly he burst into a loud laugh, and cried in cheerful tone—“By my halidome, old fellow, you are right. Give us your hand; to-morrow early I go to the Duke of Bedford; and you shall hear the Messiah, were all the rascals in the three kingdoms and the continent against it. Tom, another mug!”

Loud and long applause followed his words: John Farren essayed a leap in his joy, which, ’spite of his corpulence, succeeded beyond expectation, and moved the guests to renewed peals of laughter. Joseph whispered to the maiden at his side—“Oh, Ellen! if it prospers with him, our fortune is made; I have his word for it.”

The next morning Händel went, as he had promised his friends, to the Duke of Bedford. His Grace had given a grand breakfast, and half the court was assembled in his saloon. As soon as the servants saw Händel ascending the steps, they hastened to announce his arrival to their lord.

The Duke was not much of a connoisseur, but he loved the reputation of a patron of the arts, and took great pleasure in exhibiting himself in that light to the court and the king. It was his dearest wish to win the illustrious master to himself; particularly as he knew well that the absence of Händel from Carlton House was in no way owing to want of favor with the sovereign. The king, on the contrary, appreciated and highly valued his genius. But Händel’s energetic nature could not bend to the observance of the forms and ceremonies held indispensable, not only at Carlton House, but among all the London aristocracy; and it was natural that this peculiarity should gradually remove him from the circles of the nobility. His fame on this account, however, only rose the higher. His Oratorio of Saul, which the preceding year had been produced, first in London, then in the other large cities of England, had stamped him a composer whom none hitherto had surpassed. The king was delighted; the court and nobles professed, at least, to be no less so. Among the people, his name stood, as his friend had truly observed, with the proudest names of the age! When informed of his arrival, the Duke hastened out, shook the master cordially by the hand, and was about leading him, without ceremony, into the hall. But Händel, thanking him for the honor, informed him he was come to ask a favor of his Grace.

“Well, Master Händel,” said the Duke, smiling—“then come with me into my cabinet.” The master followed his noble host, and unfolded his petition in few words, to wit: that his Grace would be pleased to set right the heads of the Lord Mayor and the Archbishop of London, so that they should cease laying hindrances in the way of the representation of his Messiah.

The Duke heard him out, and promised to use all his means and all his influence to prevent any further obstacle being interposed, and to remove those already in the way. Händel was pleased, more, perhaps, with the manner in which the polite but haughty Duke gave the promise, than with the promise itself.

“Now come in with me, Master Händel,” said the Duke; “you will see many faces that are not strangers to you; and moreover, a brave countryman of yours, whom I have taken into my service. His name is Kellermann, and he is an excellent flute player, as the connoisseurs say.”

“Alle tausend!” cried Händel, with joyful surprise; “is the brave fellow in London, and indeed in your Grace’s service? That is news indeed! I will go with you, were your hall filled besides with baboons.”

“Oh! no lack of them,” laughed the Duke, while he led his guest into the saloon; “and you will find a fat capon into the bargain.”

Great was the sensation among the assembled guests, when Bedford entered, introducing the celebrated composer. When he had presented Händel to the company, the Duke beckoned Kellermann to him; and Händel, without regarding the rest, greeted his old friend with all the warmth of his nature, and with childlike expressions of joy. Bedford seemed to enjoy his satisfaction, and let the two friends remain undisturbed; though the idol of the London world of fashion, Signor Farinelli, hemmed and cleared his throat many times over the piano, in token that he was about to sing, and wanted Kellermann to come back and accompany him. At length, Kellermann noticed his uneasiness; he pressed his friend’s hand with a smile, returned to his place, took up his flute, and Signor Farinelli, having once more cleared his throat, began a melting air with his sweet, clear voice.