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We will first take his Concerti Grossi.[406] None of his works are more celebrated and less understood. Handel attached to them a particular value, for he published them himself by subscription, a means which was usual in his day, but which he himself never adopted except under exceptional circumstances.
One knows that the kind of Concerti Grossi, which consists chiefly in a dialogue between a group of solo instrumentalists (the Concertino) and the full body of instruments (Concerto Grosso), to which is added the cembalo,[407] was, if not invented, at least carried to its perfection and rendered classical by Corelli.[408] The works of Corelli, aided by the efforts of his followers, had become widely known in Europe. Geminiani introduced them into England,[409] and without doubt Handel did not hesitate to profit by the example of Geminiani, who was his friend;[410] but it is much more natural to think that he learnt the Concerto Grosso, at its source at Rome, from Corelli himself during his sojourn there in 1708. Several of his Concertos in his Opus 3[411] date from 1710, 1716, 1722. The same feature shows itself right up to the time of his apprenticeship at Hamburg: in any case he might have already known the Corellian style, thanks to the propaganda of George Muffat, who spread this style very early in Germany.[412] After Corelli, Locatelli,[413] and especially Vivaldi,[414] have singularly transformed the Concerto Grosso by giving it the free character of programme music[415] and by turning it resolutely towards the form of the Sonata in three parts. But when the works of Vivaldi were played in London in 1723, and the works which aroused such a general enthusiasm became thoroughly known to Handel, it was always to Corelli that he gave the preference, and he was very conservative in certain ways even about him. The form of his Concerto, of which the principal movements varied from four to six, oscillated between the Suite and the Sonata, and even glanced towards the symphonic overture. It is this for which the theorists blame him, and it is this for which I praise him. For he does not seek to impose a uniform cast on his thoughts, but leaves it open to himself to fashion the form as he requires, and the framework varies accordingly, following his inclinations from day to day. The spontaneity of his thought, which has already been shown by the extreme rapidity with which the Concerti were composed—each in a single day at a single sitting, and many each week[416]—constitutes the great charm of these works. They are, in the words of Kretzschmar, grand impression pictures, translated into a form, at the same time precise and supple, in which the least change of emotion can make itself easily felt. Truly they are not all of equal value. Their conception itself, which depended in a way on mere momentary inspiration, is the explanation of this extreme inequality. One ought to acknowledge here that the Seventh Concerto, for example (the one in B flat major), and the last three have but a moderate interest.[417] They are amongst those least played; but to be quite just we must pay homage to these masterpieces, and especially to the Second Concerto in F major, which is like a Beethovenian concerto: for we find there some of the spirit of the Bonn master. For Kretzschmar the ensemble calls to mind a beautiful autumn day—the morning, where the rising sun pierces its way through the clouds—the afternoon, the joyful walk, the rest in the forest, and finally the happy and belated return. It is difficult in fact not to have natural scenes brought before one’s eyes in hearing these works. The first Andante Larghetto, which predicts, at times, the Pastoral Symphony of Beethoven, is a reverie on a beautiful summer’s day. The spirit lulls itself with nature’s murmur, becomes intoxicated with it, and goes to rest. The tonality rocks between F major to B flat major and G minor. To render this piece well it is necessary to give the time plenty of play, often retarding it, and following the composer’s reverie in a spirit of soft leisurely abandon.
The Allegro in D minor which follows is a spirited and delicate little play, a dialogue leaping from the two solo violins of the Concerto, then on to the Concertino and the Grosso in turn. There, also, certain passages in the Bass, robust, rollicking, and rustic, again bring to mind the Pastoral Symphony.
The third movement, a Largo in B flat major, is one of the most intimate of Handel’s instrumental pages. After seven bars of Largo, in which the Concertino alternates dreamily with the Tutti,
