The Press. — London, England, 1857-05-30 00:00:00

536 country for twenty years, argues that if you " asked the best general upon earth to sing " the finest opera in the world, he will not " bring one halfpenny into the treasury of the " theatre." M. Sehcelcher maintains that Italian opera in England is much less a taste than a fashion, and that it has never enjoyed on the banks of the Thames but a sickly life, like that of an exotic. " How many specula " tors," he adds, "has it not ruined. In the " present day it is only supported by fashion, " and the large number of wealthy strangers " who abound in such cities as London and " Paris. To prove how factitious is the " audience, it is only necessary to mention " the exceedingly high prices for admission, " and the regulation that a frock coat cannot "be admitted even in the pit. The free " Briton who does not possess a dress coat is " forbidden to listen to an Italian song." M. Scheeteller's acquaintance with London amateurship is singularly limited. Since the days of Queen Elizabeth, when every gentle man was expected to be able to join in part singing at sight, there never existed an aristocracy more accomplished in musical acquirements. The French author's poli tical antipathies intrude themselves into every portion of his work. Royalty and the nobility are his horrors ; an amateur must have a frock coat or no coat at all to command his sympathy. Handel was a tyrant, he ad mits, " but to be a tyrant a man must be a " slave, and Handel was no slave !" Sehcelcher's antipathies are stronger than his logic. After writing thirty-nine Italian operas, Handel came to the conclusion " that John Bull (as " the British nation is vulgarly called) had " not yet the taste for that species of musio, " and - he renounced it for ever." This was in 1741, and in November of that year Handel went to Ireland, alluded to by Pope in the " Dunciad" 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's drums. Arrest him, Empress, or you sleep no more— She heard, and drove him to the Hibernian shore. Handers musical entertainments in Dublin were most successful, and The Messiah and Mr. Townsend's book, "An Account of the Visit of Handel to Dublin," amply proves that his genius was thoroughly understood and appreciated. The advertisements of these per formances request the "ladies to come without 4. their hoops," and the Crystal Palace directors might as well suggest to the ladies of the actual epoch to attend without their crinoline. M Schcelcher is minute to weariness in tracing the history of The Messiah, but he really adds nothing to our previous knowledge. He pro tests against the pianissimos introduced by Costa in the chorus, " Unto us a child is born," and Mr. littlish in the choruses "Fallen is thy foe " and "We hear, we hear" ; but when he calls a pianissimo a " prettiness," we must be pardoned for having our misgivings as to his ability to read a score, the more especially as he avows his ignorance even of the gamut ! The oratorio seasons of Handel in London for a series of years, and his last visit to Germany in 1750, are traced through the records of the period with great industry by his biographer. Jephtha was the last of his works: this was composed in 1752 His sight then began to fail, and in January, 1753, he totally lost it. Ho continued, however, to preside at the organ, where his oratorios were given. In 1759 his health began rapidly to decline. On the 6th of April in that year, at Covent-garden Theatre, The Messiah was given for the last time under his direction, and on returning to Brook-street after the performance, he went to bed, never to rise again ; and at the age of seventy-four years, one month, and tweut3 -one d tys, the greatest musical mastermind of any age died. The legacies in his will show that even after all his losses in his operatic specula tions, he was in excellent circumstances. He left 6001. for a monument to be erected in Westminster Abbey, requesting in the codicil the permission of the Dean and Chapter of Westminster to be buried " in a private man ner" therein. M. Schcelcher cites this as a proof of an enfeebled intelligence. According to Handers desire, on " Friday night, about THE PRESS. " eight o'clock," says the Universal Chronicle of the 24th of April, 1759, "the remains of the " late Mr. Handel were deposited at the foot " of the Duke of Argyle's monument in West " minster Abbey ; and though he mentioned " being privately interred, yet, from the re " spent due to so celebrated a man, the bishop, " prebends, and the whole choir attended to " pay the last honours due to his memory. " There was a vast concourse of people of all " ranks." The Gentleman's Magazine of 1759 adds " there were not fewer than 3.000 persons present on this occasion." Dr. Zachary Pearce, Bishop of Rochester and Dean of Westminster, preached the funeral sermon. And where did the authorities deposit his remains? In the Poets' Corner. On the 10th of July, 1762, his monu ment, by Roubiliac, was inaugurated ; but the year of the birth is wrong ; as before stated, it should be 1685, not 1684. In 1784 was the grand Commemoration in the presence of George 111 , occupying five days, a century after Handel's birth. In June, 1834, was the Royal Festival in the Abbey, at which Wil. Liam IV. and Queen Adelaide were present. And at how many musical festivals in West minster Abbey, York Minster, Edinburgh, Norwich, Birmingham, Chester, Derby, Dub lin, Liverpool, Manchester, Bradford, and those of the three choirs in Worcester, Hereford, and Gloucester, the memory of Handel has been honoured, Mr. Bowley records in his letter in some interesting calculations. But all the attendances at these provincial gather ings have been exceeded at those of the Sacred Harmonic Society since its formation, and from their records it appears that out of 344 performances at Exeter-hall, about one half, or 172, consisted of entire oratorios by Handel. What conclusion is to be drawn from these facts and figures ? That it is utterly absurd on the part of M. Schcelcher to set up the theory, that Handel, living or dead, was not thoroughly appreciated, valued, and rewarded in this country. From Royalty he enjoyed a pension to his death of 6001. per annum. From private patronage of the no bility he drew a considerable income. It is nothing to the purpose for the republican biographer to affirm that " the barons " were divided in their estimation of Handel's genius. He had a large party of the nobility on his side when he was a director of the Italian Opera. He became impracticable, and subse quently impossible. Even then, Handel might have remained a composer, but he choose to be an impresario, and he paid the penalty of his daring. Musicians are prover bially bad managers. M. Schcelcher in his blind idolatory endeavours to establish that Handel was perfect in his compositions. The truth is, that he wrote for money as well as for fame. To write for money he had to ac commodate himself to the taste (?) of the day. Some friend to whom he had sent a score for inspection, pointed out to him the beauties of the work according to his judgment, but Handel replied warmly that he required no such criticism, he knew full well that which was really good, but he wanted to learn that which would sell ! This was common sense, and his biographer in his next edition would do well to introduce the anecdote. Equally fruitless are the attempts to defend Handel's plagiarisms. The surpassing genius of Handel requires no idol worship, and still less the clumsy defence of half-informed partisan ship. A mere collector of materials and dili gent searcher after facts will not make a com• petent biographer. M. Schcelcher has laid the foundation, but the edifice has yet to be erected. His prejudices are strong—his criti cisms are curious—his conclusions are arrived at with a rapidity only to be acquired by French historians. His depreciation of Samuel Wesley is most unjust, and arises from sheer ignorance, and his apprecia tion of Mendelssohn is singularly light and flippant. What does he mean by affirming that he bad no " special grudge " against Elijah? What position can he expect to hold as a critic when he calls the music of Elijah and Paul " hollow," and that it has only gained what he terms an "assumed place." He couples in the oddest manner, amongst modern attempts, Costa's Eli and Mr. Leslie's SATURDAY, Emmanuel. He ignores altogether, in men tioning the latter, Charles Horsley, and he asks not the question what Macfarren and Stern dale Bennett might have done, if they had had chances offered to them in the springtide of their youth. It is monstrous to make a mar tyr of a musician in the days of Handel. The martyrdom is really in these days, because there is now no belief in the present. Th e future is ridiculed in all countries, and those unhappy composers who have been dreaming of it have indeed hut a narrow circle of ad mirers. Indiscriminate fanaticism, a r i s i ng from imperfect acquaintance with music, i s M. Schcelcher's rock. His shortcomings might have been pardoned, but why distort history? Handel was rewarded during his life and has been honoured since his death in the country of his adoption more than any other composer who has ever existed. We did not require, for the glorification of the Shakespeare of music, the sacrifice of historical truth. What has France done for Berlioz, one of her greatest composers ? How long was . it before th e grave of Mozart could be found ? What did the Viennese for Beethoven ? Was not Liszt almost the only contributor to the fund for the monument at Bonn, inaugurated in 1845 in the presence of Queen Victoria and Prince Albert? Who are canvassing the musical amateurs in England fur the projected monument at Halle for Handel? A Winter's Sketches in the South of France and the Pyrenees. By F. H. Johnson. London: Chapman and Hall. THE facilities of travelling have so greatly in- creased the number of English tourists, and the multiplication of books has at the same time so augmented the class of persons who thirst fur literary distinction, that we rarely now open a new volume of travels without the most gloomy anticipations. Every ponderous Paterfamilias, complacent Cantab. priggish Templar, or pert apprentice, who spends his six we 3ks' holiday on the Continent, believes, forsooth, that the world will be much interested in " the faithful record of his own " impressions," or " the dearly-bought results " of his experience," or some such stereotyped phrase, and forthwith proceeds to invest his first quarter's salary in the publication of some red or blue covered octavo, with gold letters on the back, which are usually the only bright thiags about it. People seem to think that because they have "impressions" they must necessarily possess the talent for imparting them to others. Nothing is rarer than this faculty. We believe that for one man who could write down a really correct, to say nothing of a brilliant, description of a landscape or town, or a field of battle, or convey to us a just idea of the manners and appearance of a foreign people, there are twenty who could compose a very tolerable novel, essay, or oration. Keen powers of observation and discrimination, natural good taste, and a style at once clear and well coloured, are indispensable qualifications for a writer of travels. How seldom they are united the very few good books of this class sufficiently testify, and how poor are the results without them English readers of the present day have but too much reason to know. We have felt bound to make these few pre. liminary observations in order that the prals3 we are about to bestow upon the work before us may not appear to result from either thoughtlessness or partiality. Of the three qualifications above mentioned Mr. Johnson possesses only two, and is not, therefore, in our opinion to be ranked in the first class of traveller authors. He lacks the power of seizing on traits of character and points of scenery in such a style as to bring them vividly before the reader —a talent con spicuous in such works as " Highways and Byeways," "Eothen," " The Crescent and the Cross," and Mr. Stanley's "Palestine and Sinai "; but he writes like a scholar and a man of taste. His own admiration of what he sees is communicated to his readers through sympathy, if not through apprehension, and his style is sufficiently glowing to sustain our interest. These sketches are infinitely supe rior to the average of tourists' reminiscences,