Great German Composers | Page 7

town flocked
to Britton's on Thursdays--not to order coals, but to sit out his concerts.
Let us follow the short, stout little man on a concert-day. The
customers are all served, or as many as can be. The coal-shed is made
tidy and swept up, and the coal-heaver awaits his company. There he
stands at the door of his stable, dressed in his blue blouse, dustman's
hat, and maroon kerchief tightly fastened round his neck. The
concert-room is almost full, and, pipe in hand, Britton awaits a new
visitor--the beautiful Duchess of B------. She is somewhat late (the
coachman, possibly, is not quite at home in the neighborhood).

Here comes a carriage, which stops at the coal-shop; and, laying down
his pipe, the coal-heaver assists her grace to alight, and in the genteelest
manner escorts her to the narrow staircase leading to the music-room.
Forgetting Ward's advice, she trips laughingly and carelessly up the
stairs to the room, from which proceed faint sounds of music,
increasing to quite an _olla podri-da_ of sound as the apartment is
reached--for the musicians are tuning up. The beautiful duchess is soon
recognized, and as soon in deep gossip with her friends. But who is that
gentlemanly man leaning over the chamber-organ? That is Sir Roger
L'Estrange, an admirable performer on the violoncello, and a great
lover of music. He is watching the subtile fingering of Mr. Handel, as
his dimpled hands drift leisurely and marvelously over the keys of the
instrument.
There, too, is Mr. Bannister with his fiddle--the first Englishman,
by-the-by, who distinguished himself upon the violin; there is Mr.
Woolaston, the painter, relating to Dr. Pepusch of how he had that
morning thrown up his window upon hearing Britton crying "Small
coal!" near his house in Warwick Lane, and, having beckoned him in,
had made a sketch for a painting of him; there, too, is Mr. John Hughes,
author of the "Siege of Damascus." In the background also are Mr.
Philip Hart, Mr. Henry Symonds, Mr. Obadiah Shuttleworth, Mr.
Abiell Whichello; while in the extreme corner of the room is Robe, a
justice of the peace, letting out to Henry Needier of the Excise Office
the last bit of scandal that has come into his court. And now, just as the
concert has commenced, in creeps "Soliman the Magnificent," also
known as Mr. Charles Jennens, of Great Ormond Street, who wrote
many of Handel's librettos, and arranged the words for the "Messiah."
"Soliman the Magnificent" is evidently resolved to do justice to his title
on this occasion with his carefully-powdered wig, frills,
maroon-colored coat, and buckled shoes; and as he makes his progress
up the room, the company draw aside for him to reach his favorite seat
near Handel. A trio of Corelli's is gone through; then Madame Cuzzoni
sings Handel's last new air; Dr. Pepusch takes his turn at the
harpsichord; another trio of Hasse, or a solo on the violin by Bannister;
a selection on the organ from Mr. Handel's new oratorio; and then the

day's programme is over.
Dukes, duchesses, wits and philosophers, poets and musicians, make
their way down the satirized stairs to go, some in carriages, some in
chairs, some on foot, to their own palaces, houses, or lodgings.
III.
We do not now think of Handel in connection with the opera. To the
modern mind he is so linked to the oratorio, of which he was the father
and the consummate master, that his operas are curiosities but little
known except to musical antiquaries. Yet some of the airs from the
Handel operas are still cherished by singers as among the most
beautiful songs known to the concert-stage.
In 1720 Handel was engaged by a party of noblemen, headed by his
Grace of Chandos, to compose operas for the Royal Academy of Music
at the Haymarket. An attempt had been made to put this institution on a
firm foundation by a subscription of £50,000, and it was opened on
May 2d with a full company of singers engaged by Handel. In the
course of eight years twelve operas were produced in rapid succession:
"Floridante," December 9, 1721; "Ottone," January 12, 1723; "Flavio"
and "Giulio Cesare," 1723; "Tamerlano," 1724; "Rodelinda," 1725;
"Scipione," 1726; "Alessandro," 1726; "Admeto," 727; "Siroe," 1728;
and "Tolommeo," 1728. They made as great a furore among the
musical public of that day as would an opera from Gounod or Verdi in
the present. The principal airs were sung throughout the land, and
published as harpsichord pieces; for in these halcyon days of our
composers the whole atmosphere of the land was full of the flavor and
color of Handel. Many of the melodies in these now forgotten operas
have been worked up by modern composers, and so have passed into
modern music unrecognized. It is