Sketch of Handel and Beethoven

In 1717, Handel paid a flying visit to his native town. When he returned to London, in 1718, he found the Italian theatre closed, being unable to support itself; but the chapel of the Duke of Chandos was in a flourishing condition. The Duke of Chandos, formerly Paymaster-General of Queen Anne's army, had built near the village of Edgeware a mansion called Cannons.

In "A journey through England," by Miss Spence, this mansion is thus described: —

"The palace of the Duke of Chandos was erected in the eighteenth century. This magnificent structure with its decorations and furniture cost £230,000. The pillars of the great hall were of marble, as were the steps of the principal staircase, each step consisting of one piece twenty-two feet long. The establishment of the household was not inferior to the splendour of the habitation. Notwithstanding the three successive shocks which his fortune received by his concern in the African Company and the Mississippi and South Sea speculations in 1718-19-20, the Duke lived in splendour at Cannons till his death in 1744, rather as the presumptive heir to a diadem than as one of Her Majesty's subjects. So extraordinary indeed, was his style of living, that he was designated 'The Grand Duke.'"

Among other objects of luxury this duke had a chapel furnished like the churches of Italy. It was situate a short distance from the mansion, and we are told that he went there with true Christian humility, "attended by his Swiss Guards," ranged as the Yeoman of the Guard. Every Sunday the road from London to Edgeware was thronged with carriages of the members of the nobility and gentry, who went to pray to God with his grace. Dr. Pepusch, one of the greatest musical celebrities of the time, was the first chapel master; but the Duke of Chandos, who loved ever to worship the Lord with the best of everything, made proposals to the illustrious Handel, and persuaded him to take the place of Pepusch. The Musical Biography tells us that "Dr. Pepusch fully acquiesced in the opinion of Handel's superior merit, and retired from his eminent and honourable situation without any expression whatever either of chagrin or disappointment."

The wise labour for their own sakes, for their own satisfaction, and in the midst of general indifference; but artists only work when they are excited by public attention. The most fruitful have need of external animation to become productive, and require immediate applause. Handel, having an orchestra and singers at his disposal, with the guests of a wealthy nobleman for audience, set himself passionately to work. It was at Cannons that he wrote the two Te Deums and the twelve famous Anthems, called the Chandos Anthems.

Of the splendid residence wherein the Duke of Chandos gave these magnificent "feasts of reason and flow of soul," nothing is now left but the chapel, which, as I said before, was constructed apart from the mansion. It is now the parish church of Edgeware. The most interesting relic is an organ, of moderate size, which stands behind the altar. Upon this may be found a little brass plate, bearing this inscription: —

HANDELwas organist of this churchfrom the year 1718 to 1721, and composedthe oratorio of estheron this organ

The mansion was sold in 1750, three years after the Duke's death, for eleven thousand pounds. (It had cost, you recollect, two hundred and thirty thousand pounds.) Not a vestige of it is left; and, as the site is now in a state of cultivation, Pope's prediction is realized:

"Another age shall see the golden earImbrown the slope and nod on the parterre.Deep harvests bury all his pride has planned,And laughing Ceres reassume the land."Essay— "Of the Use of Riches."

The magnificent Duke himself is now almost forgotten. A marble statue, which was erected to his memory in the crypt of the chapel, is now in the last state of dilapidation. The wind whistles through the broken windows of its funereal abode; and the plaster of the roof, detached from its skeleton of laths, powders his enormous wig, and soils the imperial robe that drapes his shoulders. But the spirit of the master of Cannons may console itself; for in the verses of the poets are monuments of infinitely greater durability than marble. And has not Pope sung: —

"True, some are open, and to all men known;Others so very close, they're hid from none.(So darkness strikes the sense no less than light;)Thus gracious Chandos is beloved at sight."Essay— "Of the Characters of Man."

On either side of the statue stand two long figures, clothed, like it, in Roman costume. These are the first two wives of the Duke. But he married a third wife, who has not, however, been permitted to enter the sanctuary.

The story of this third marriage is worth telling you.

One day the Duke being on a journey, he saw, at the door of an inn at which the horses were changed, a groom beating a young servant girl with a horse-whip. Taking pity on the poor girl, the Duke went to interpose between them, when he was informed that the groom and the girl were married. This being the case, nothing could be said; for the law of England at that time permitted husbands to beat their wives to any excess short of death. The groom, who had noticed the movement of the Duke, came up and offered to sell him his wife, if he would buy her; and in order to save her from further punishment he did so. But when the bargain was concluded, the Duke did not know what to do with his new acquisition, and so he sent her to school. Soon after this the Duchess of Chandos died, and the Duke took it into his head that he would marry his purchase – so that eventually the poor servant girl, whom a groom had beaten by the road side before every passer by, became Duchess of Chandos, and comported herself in her new rank with perfect dignity.

But to return to Handel and to Cannons. One day, as he was going there, he was overtaken by a shower in the midst of the village of Edgeware, and took shelter in the house of one Powell, who was a blacksmith as well as parish clerk of Whitchurch. After the usual salutations, Powell fell to work again at his forge, singing an old song the while. By an extraordinary phenomenon, the hammer, striking in time, drew from the anvil two harmonic sounds, which, being in accord with the melody, made a sort of continuous bass. Handel was struck by the incident, listened, remembered the air and its strange accompaniment, and, when he returned home, composed out of it a piece for the harpsichord. This is the piece which has been published separately a thousand times under the title of The Harmonious Blacksmith. After an existence of upwards of a hundred and forty years, this piece is continually being reprinted, and it will be reprinted so long as the human race is sensible to music. Judge for yourselves, as it shall now be kindly played for you.

HARMONIOUS BLACKSMITH

In the "London Daily Post" of the 19th August, 1738, there is the following paragraph:

"The entertainment at Vauxhall Gardens concluded with the Coronation Anthems of Mr. Handel, to the great pleasure of the company, and amidst a great concourse of people."

The Coronation Anthems here alluded to are those composed for the coronation of George II. He was too fond of music to be satisfied at his coronation with that of the court composer, whom an old law compelled him to have attached to the household, so he requested Handel to give his assistance, who wrote the four anthems which are called the Coronation Anthems. These were performed at Westminster, during the ceremony of the 11th October, 1727, after having been solemnly rehearsed in the cathedral on the 6th, in the presence of a numerous assemblage. This work forms one of the most solid foundations of its author's glory. "Zadok the Priest" especially is an inspiration of prodigious grandeur – the chorus, "God Save the King" (not the National Anthem), is comparable in beauty to the "Hallelujah" chorus, in the "Messiah."

Most of you are familiar with these anthems; they are always performed at the Annual Meeting of Charity Children in St. Paul's;5 and who ever tires of listening to them? Grand music has this advantage over all the other productions of the artistic faculties of man, that people are never tired of it. It is like daily bread, an aliment always new, always wished for. The oftener you hear a fine piece of music, the greater pleasure you take in hearing it again. It charms you in proportion as you have familiarized yourself with it, therefore it is not to be feared that people will be tired of listening to the Coronation Anthems of Handel to the end of time.

I have given you a quotation from the principal daily paper of the period we are now speaking of; allow me to give you another. In the "Daily Post" of the 18th April, 1738, there is the following announcement: —

"We are informed, from very good authority, that there is now nearly finished a statue of the justly celebrated Mr. Handel, exquisitely done, by the ingenious Mr. Roubilliac, of St. Martin's Lane Statuary, out of one entire block of white marble, which is to be placed in a grand nich, erected on purpose, in the great grove of Vauxhall Gardens (The great grove at Vauxhall Gardens! – Sic transit gloria mundi), at the sole expense of Mr. Tyers, undertaker of the entertainment there, who, in consideration of the real merit of that inimitable master, thought it proper that his effigy should preside there, where his harmony has so often charmed even the greatest crowds into the profoundest calm and most decent behaviour."

And in the following copy, that of the 2nd May, 1738, there is the following: —

"Last night Vauxhall was opened, and there was a considerable appearance of both sexes. The several pieces of music played on that occasion had never been heard before in the gardens: the company expressed the greatest satisfaction at the marble statue of Mr. Handel."

Some of you may have seen this marble statue in the great grove at Vauxhall Gardens. I never have; but we may all see the self-same statue any day, in the great room at Exeter Hall.

Apropos of a statue – England has shown great gratitude to Handel – Handel, a foreigner– has she shown anything like equal gratitude to as great, if not a greater genius, and that genius her own son?

Who ever loved England more dearly than Shakespeare? His was not merely the love of a son for his mother, but it was as tender as that of a mother for her son. His works are full of delicious passages, in which his patriotism becomes manifest. No corner of the globe has been sung by native poets as England has by Shakespeare. Many of you, I dare say, are familiar with that beautiful passage in "Richard II." He is describing England, and he says —

"This other Eden, demi-paradise,This fortress, built by Nature for herself,Against infection and the hand of War;This happy breed of men – this little earth;This precious stone set in the silver sea."

Yes, Shakespeare so loved his country, that he divined by intuition the heart-anguish of those who have lost theirs. Romeo, when Friar Laurence tells him that he is banished from Verona, cries: —

"Ha! banishment? Be merciful; say death!For exile hath more terror in his look;Much more than death: do not say 'banishment.'Friar.– Be patient, for the world is broad and wide.Romeo.– There is no world outside Verona's walls!Hast thou no poison mixedTo kill me? but 'banished!' 'banished!'O Friar! the damned use that word in hell!"

He who spoke thus was Shakespeare, and yet his compatriots could not find the means of erecting a statue to him! Even at the present day in London, where you may find in every square a herd of dukes, to whom not even bronze can give celebrity, Shakespeare is nowhere to be found. His image remains shut up in Westminster Abbey, instead of being set upon a column whose height should dominate over the metropolis, as his genius dominates over the world.6

I must necessarily pass over much that is interesting in the life of Handel: recollect I have undertaken to give you only a "sketch," not a history. My sketch, however, would be incomplete did I overlook his greatest production, or his visit to "that generous and polite nation," as he was pleased to call Ireland, for which nation his masterpiece was composed, and in which it was first performed.

For a long time Handel had been wished for in Ireland. The Duke of Devonshire, the Lord Lieutenant of the country at that period, had directly invited him to pay a visit to the island, and the Irish professed great admiration for him.

Almost all the musical societies of Dublin, which were composed of amateurs, gave their entertainments for the furtherance of charitable objects. Handel put himself into communication with the most important of these, that "for the benefit and enlargement (freedom) of poor distressed prisoners for debt," and promised to give an oratorio for its benefit. For this society he composed the "Messiah," the masterpiece of this great master. Whoever has listened to his music will admit that its most distinctive character is the sublime. No one, without exception, neither Beethoven nor Mozart, has ever risen nearer to the grandeur of the ideal than Handel did, and he was never more sublime than in the "Messiah;" and, remembering this, read the dates which are inscribed with his own hand upon the manuscript: —

"Commenced 22nd August, 1741.

"End of 1st part, 28th August.

"End of 2nd, 6th September.

"End of 3rd, 12th September, 1741.

"Filled up on the 14th."

This Herculean work was therefore accomplished in twenty-three days; and Handel was then fifty-six years old!

It is a strange phenomenon: when men of genius are to die YOUNG, they complete their masterpieces at once. Mozart rendered up his soul at thirty-nine; Raphael painted "The School of Athens" at twenty-five, and "The Transfiguration" at thirty-seven; Paul Potter his "Bull" at twenty-two; Rossini composed "The Barber of Sevile" when he was twenty-three, "William Tell" at thirty-seven, and afterwards wrote no more. If these men had lived longer, it would have been impossible for them to surpass themselves.

Great artists, on the other hand, who are destined to have long lives are slow in production, or rather they produce their best things in the decline of life. Handel, e. g., composed his greatest works, "The Funeral Anthem," "Israel," "The Messiah," "Samson," "The Dettingen Te Deum," and "Judas Macabbeus," after he was fifty-two years old. Gluck had not composed one of his operas when he was fifty. Haydn was an old man of sixty-five when he produced the "Creation." Murillo became Murillo only at forty years of age. Poussin was seventy when he painted "The Deluge," which is the most poetically great of all his noble pictures. Michael Angelo counted more than sixty years when he encrusted his incomparable fresco, "The Last Judgment," upon the walls of the Sistine Chapel; and he was eighty-seven when he raised the cupola of St. Peter's to the heavens. And our own Milton was sixty-three when he wrote "Paradise Lost!"

But, to return – Handel set out on his journey and charitable mission, 4th August, 1741. It is to this journey Pope alludes in his "Dunciad: " —

"But soon, ah! soon, rebellion will commence,If music meanly borrows aid from sense;Strong in new arms, lo! giant Handel stands,Like bold Briareus, with his hundred hands,To stir, to rouse, to shake the soul he comes,And Jove's own thunders follow Mars' drums."

He was stayed by contrary winds in the ancient and picturesque city of Chester. Dr. Burney says, "I was at the public school in Chester, and very well remember seeing him smoke a pipe over a dish of coffee at the Exchange coffee house; and, being extremely curious to see so extraordinary a man, I watched him narrowly as long as he remained in Chester, where he stayed on account of the wind being unfavourable for his embarking at Park Gate."

Wishing to employ this delay in trying over some pieces of his new oratorio – the Messiah, he sought for some one who could read music at sight, and a house painter named Janson was indicated to him as one of the best musicians attached to the Cathedral. A meeting took place, but poor Janson managed so badly, that the irascible composer became purple with anger, and after swearing, as was his wont, in four or five languages at a time, cried out, "You Schountrel! tit you not tell me dat you could sing at soite?" "Yes sir," replied the good fellow, "but not at first sight." Handel upon this burst out laughing, and the rehearsal proceeded no further.

He arrived in Dublin on the 18th November, 1741. It was not till April following, however, that the Messiah was for the first time heard. In the Dublin papers of March 1742, the following advertisement appeared: —

"For the relief of the prisoners in the several gaols, and for the support of Mercer's Hospital; on Monday, the 12th April, will be performed at the Music Hall, in Fishamble-street, Mr. Handel's new grand Oratorio called the Messiah."

The performance having taken place, the newspapers vied with each other in commendation and praise. I give you an extract from one: —

"On Tuesday last, (the day I suppose was changed), Mr. Handel's sacred grand Oratorio, the Messiah, was performed in the New Music Hall, in Fishamble-street. The best judges allowed it to be the most finished piece of music. Words are wanted to express the delight it afforded to the admiring crowded audience. The sublime, the grand and the tender, adapted to the most elevated, majestic, and moving words, conspired to transport and charm the ravished heart and ear. It is but justice to Mr. Handel, that the world should know, he generously gave the money arising from this grand performance to be equally shared by the society for relieving prisoners, the Charitable Infirmary, and Mercer's Hospital, for which they will ever gratefully remember his name.

This is high encomium, but the audience paid him higher still. When the chorus all struck up, "For the Lord God omnipotent reigneth," in the Hallelujah, they were so transported that they all together started up and remained standing till the chorus ended."

A few days after the performance of the Messiah, Handel waited on Lord Kinnoul, with whom he was particularly acquainted. His Lordship, as was natural, paid him some compliments on the noble entertainment which he had lately given in the town. "My Lord, said Handel, I should be sorry if I only entertained them, I wish TO MAKE THEM BETTER."

The Messiah has remained the most popular of Oratorios. It is never announced in anything like a fitting manner without attracting the public. It invariably forms part of the programme at all the festivals, and the day on which it is performed is always the most productive. The Sacred Harmonic Societies particularly give it every year for the benefit of distressed musicians. Truly does it deserve the touching eulogy that "it has fed the hungry, clothed the naked, and fostered the orphans."

But I must hasten to a conclusion. Before I conclude this sketch of Handel, I must introduce you to one more of his Oratorios, "L'Allegro."

This magnificent composition has been eulogized by an eminent poet, – a beautiful pigeon! and an old parson! I will briefly tell you the eulogy of each, for brief is the eulogy itself.

The Poet having heard the oratorio performed, wrote thus: —

"If e'er Arion's music calm'd the floodsAnd Orpheus ever drew the dancing woods!Why do not British trees and forest throngTo hear the sweeter notes of Handel's song?This does the falsehood of the fable prove —Or seas and woods when Handel harps would move."

The Pigeon. – "Let me wander not unseen," is considered one of Handel's finest inspirations. Hawkins says, "Of the air, the late Mr. John Lockman relates the following story, assuring his reader, that himself was an eye-witness to it," viz: —

"When at the house of Mr. Lee, a gentleman in Cheshire, whose daughter was a very fine performer on the harpsichord, he saw a pigeon which, whenever the young lady played this song, and this only, would fly from an adjacent dove-house to the window in the parlour where she sat, and listen to it with the most pleasing emotions, and the instant the song was over would fly away to her dove-house."7

The Parson, old Dr. Delaney, F.T.C.D. once heard at the opera a lady8 sing this song. He was so captivated and excited that he could not control himself, but standing up in front of his box exclaimed,

"Oh! woman, for this be all thy sins forgiven!"

Now I do not know whether there is a poet present, or a pigeon, but there is an old parson; and although I shall not give my lady friend absolution for the song, still I am sure she will merit approbation, and receive applause.

"LET ME WANDER NOT UNSEEN."Words by Milton. Music by Handel

On the 21st January, 1751, Handel commenced "Jephtha," the last of his works. It was not finished till the 30th August following. It is the only work he ever took so long to complete. This can be easily accounted for. During its progress his eyesight became impaired; by the last pages of the MS. it appears only too plainly that his vision was no longer clear when he traced them: yet sick as he was, the intrepid old man arose once more when charity had need of him. He gave two performances of the "Messiah" for the Foundling Hospital, one on the 18th April, the other on the 16th May, 1751. The sum for the tickets delivered for the 18th April came to six hundred pounds; that for May, nine hundred and twenty-five guineas. The "London Magazine" of that month says there were eight hundred coaches and chairs. Handel presented this hospital with the copyright of the "Messiah." The performances alone during Handel's life time enriched the hospital with thousands of pounds.

Handel submitted three times to a painful operation, the last time in 1752, but without effect. Blind he became, and was to remain as his mother had been in her old days.

Handel blind – Beethoven deaf! – Sad similitude!

This cruel misfortune afflicted him at first profoundly; but when he was compelled to recognise that the evil was without a remedy, his manly soul got the upper hand, he resigned himself to his fate, and resolved to continue his oratorio performances.

"Samson," one of his favourite oratorios, was in the programme of the season. In spite of all his moral energy, the author could not listen untroubled to the pathetic air of the sightless Hercules of the Hebrews, in which he gave utterance to his immense grief. "Total eclipse. No sun – no moon!" Then it was that they saw the grand old man, who was seated at the organ, grow pale and tremble; and when they led him forward to the audience, which was applauding, many persons present were so forcibly affected that they were moved even to tears.

And we may still be sharers in that emotion, as when we recall the circumstances of that scene, and remember that the verses were composed by Milton, who, you recollect, was himself blind.

"Total eclipse! No sun! – no moon!All dark amidst the blaze of noon!Oh! glorious light! No cheering rayTo glad my eyes with welcome day.Why thus deprived thy prime decree?Sun, moon, and stars are dark to me."

On the 6th April, 1759, the "Messiah" was performed for the last time under the direction of the author.

After returning home from this performance, he went to bed, never to rise again. Seized with a mortal exhaustion, and feeling that his last hour was come, in the full plenitude of his reason, he gently rendered up his soul to die, on the Anniversary of the first performance of the "Messiah," Good Friday, 13th April, 1759, aged seventy-four years.

He was buried with all honour and respect in Westminster Abbey, the Pantheon of Great Britain. His remains were placed in what is called "the Poet's Corner," wherein lie buried Shakspere, Milton, Dryden, Thompson, Sheridan, Gray. And he is in his place there; for who was ever more of a poet than Handel? – who deserved better than he to enter the Pantheon. They might have written upon his tomb the words which Antony spoke when he beheld the body of Cæsar, "This was a man."

Yes: this was a man who had done honour to music as much by the nobility of his character as by the sublimity of his genius. He was one of the too few artists who uphold the dignity of art to the highest possible standard. He was the incarnation of honesty. The unswerving rigidity of his conduct captivates even those who do not take him for a model. He worked ceaselessly for the improvement of others without ever feeling weary. He was virtuous and pure, proud and intrepid. His love of good was as unconquerable as his will. He died at his post, working to the last hour of his life. He has left behind him a luminous track and a noble example.