at a time when lewd and tuneless songs threatened to swamp Handel and all his works. Gates had also been one of those responsible for unmasking Bononcini's thefts and had conducted much of the correspondence with Lotti. He had a couple of daughters, both of whom he named Atkinson, after a Mrs Atkinson who had been laundress to Queen Anne. Mrs Atkinson made money over the dirty washing from the palace, and she spent some of it in bringing up the girl who was ultimately to become Mrs Gates. There was therefore some reason for Gates thus honouring the wash-tub by condemning his two children to endless confusion by giving them the same Christian name.

In spite of his few peculiarities, Gates was a zealot, and he decided to spring a surprise upon Handel. As a young man he had sung in the master's performance of his Haman and Mordecai at Cannons, so probably possessed a copy of the score, although no print of the work at that time existed. When Handel's birthday arrived he was asked by Gates to attend a performance of the masque by the children of the Chapel Royal at Gates' house in James Street, Westminster. Handel was delighted with the performance, and considerably touched by the sentiment which had prompted it. A little later another performance was given at the Crown and Anchor Tavern in Arundel Street, Strand, by the Academy of Ancient Music.

Gates may have been responsible for the second performance; certainly Handel's biographers have invariably credited him with the enterprise, but there is little evidence that he was, that the children of the Chapel Royal performed in it, or that Gates was ever there at all. We have contemporary evidence that the second performance was an achievement. "From dinner I went to the Music Club (at St James' Street, Westminster)," wrote the Earl of Egmont in his diary, "where the King's Chapel boys acted the History of Hester writ by Pope and composed by Handel; this oratorio of religious opera is exceedingly fine, and the company was highly pleased." There was obviously a coterie of kindred souls like Gates that was prepared to appreciate Handel in this revolution in 1 "Earl of Egmont MSS.," vol. i.

1

The Bishop's Edict

musical production. It was not hero-worship; it was understanding. Egmont and his fellows were pioneers, who really knew the full worth of Handel.

But the two performances set Handel thinking. As Haman was appreciated there was no reason why it should not be put on at the theatre. His pupil, Princess Anne, who had missed the performances, desired it above all things, and her enthusiasm swayed Handel. At any rate, it was a change from Ezio and Sosarmes, both of which lacked the ingredients of signal successes.

If Heidegger had aroused a storm from the Church by the excesses of his masquerades, it was a mere breeze compared with the storm that swirled about Handel when his intention was known. To put a Bible story on the stage, played by common mummers, was the text for Church sermons up and down the town. "What are we coming to," wrote one prelate, "when the will of Satan is to be imposed upon us in this fashion?" "Handel always mixed with the lost; now he had become their slave," declared another. But Handel, who found in the beauties of Church music, rather than in sermons, his approach to the God of his creed, went quietly on with his preparations, and the impious Heidegger, if he thought the project a little mad, at least was a party to it.

The bomb fell when Dr Gibson, Bishop of London, forbade the performance, and, since he was Dean of the Chapel Royal, the children there were put out of Handel's reach. The obstacle only stiffened Handel's resistance. He acknowledged no Bishop as he acknowledged no King, as dictator of his performances. Nevertheless, the Bishop's edict originated the oratorio. Finding it impossible to produce Haman with dramatic representation, Handel made Samuel Humphreys write some additional words, although Pope had been responsible for the words of the masque, and, instead of the masque in six scenes crowded into one act, it became a full-length work, which Handel renamed Esther.

Esther was the first oratorio, and the Bishop had caused it. On the 2nd May 1732 it was performed, but without costume, scenery or action. Four days later the Royal Family attended Esther in state, and the success of the oratorio was assured.

The advertisement in the Daily Journal of 19th April best describes it.

"By His Majesty's Command. At the King's Theatre in the Haymarket on Tuesday the 2nd Day of May will be performed

The Story of Esther

An Oratorio in English. Formerly composed by Mr Handel, and now revised by him, with several additions, and to be performed by a great number of the best Voices and Instru

ments.

"N.B.-There will be no action on the stage, but the House will be fitted up in a decent manner for the Audience. The musick is so disposed after the manner of the Coronation Service."

So small a thing can cause a revolution! Bernard Gates, a diligent little person, not far removed from mediocrity, striving to be different. Keen on his choir. Worshipping that mighty genius that soared so far above. Plume-hunting perhaps, but at least sincere. And a prating Bishop, pious, outraged, shocked. A strictly conventional Bishop who is remembered, not for his good works, but because he stormed across the path of Handel. Officious, hectoring creatureif only he had known that he was going to get the credit of turning the tide of Handel's notes so that the world was given Saul, Israel, Judas, Messiah. Or that, because of it, Time would remember him for his prating, when the recollection of all his good works had gone down into the dust of a forgotten tomb.

Esther was achieved. The first oratorio was an established form of music in England.` And Handel had started on that dreaming which found the path to the stars.

CHAPTER XV

THE VISIT TO OXFORD

WHATEVER obstacles Handel had encountered in the past, bad management, the vanity and quarrelling of singers, the hostility of Bononcini and others, had been surmounted by his genius and the strength of his personality. He had not cared. The gibes, the propaganda of enemies had never seriously wounded him. When people did not agree with him he declared it was because they were ignorant. When they attacked him it was because they were jealous. When he had been called " a German nincompoop " he had commented on the insular mentality of the average Londoner. His work had been too serious an occupation for him to ruminate unduly over these things. A sudden explosion of anger, a flood of invective, and the affair was over. He was lord of his walk; and he kept his dignity.

So far, no concerted powers had come against him. His enemies, by acting singly, had hurled blows which had no more effect than stones against metal. But now the great onslaught

was near.

The success of Esther set the pirates busy, and the times were early enough for any pirate to jump the law. The first open act of war came from a Covent Garden furniture-maker named Arne-a tradesman with distinct musical qualities, who, if he rendered little service to humanity besides making its beds at least bred two notorious children-Dr Arne the composer, and a girl, Susanna Maria, later known as the famous Mrs Cibber, the actress. But Arne père was an opportunist. He realised that in resurrecting Haman in the guise of Esther, Handel had not achieved all the digging up of the work he had put in for the Duke of Chandos at Cannons. He therefore coolly set to work to produce the Cannons version

of Acis and Galatea at the Little Theatre, directly opposite the King's Theatre in the Haymarket, under the very nose of the composer, and without the intention of paying him an oat for the theft. He billed the play as Handel's, and even employed Handel's cook, Waltz, a tenor of quality and an instrumental player above the average, to play in it!

Arne's first performance took place on 17th May 1732, and it set Handel in a fluster. Here was warfare brought to his very doorstep, and the enemy was smiting him with his own weapon. Arne had put his daughter Susanna up in the part of Galatea, though her contralto voice, never very strong, was quite unsuited to such a part. Susanna was an actress before all else. As such she was superb, and she might never have been seriously considered as a singer, but for the bold adventuring of her father with another person's property, and the fact that the deficiencies of her voice were more than balanced by the intense feeling in her singing.

Handel, storming down the Haymarket, must have raved at the little hussy's name when he found the town crowding to Arne's doors. He cursed Arne, he cursed his daughter, he cursed every one who supported a policy of "damned robbery" by going to the theatre. He cursed London. The old firework temperament, the same explosion and afterwards the same lull and kindliness! Ultimately Arne's Galatea, Susanna, after her domestic infelicities as Mrs Cibber, and the fretful fever of her stage life, became one of Handel's warmest friends. He went to her house in the solitude of his later years, sank heavily and goutily into her arm-chair, and cracked jokes with that rapscallion Quin in the chair opposite. He played for Susanna while she sang, played to her some of the best pieces of his uncompleted oratorio and really paid attention to what she said about them-told her that she was pretty that night, or plainer than usual, and turned away while she smiled or pouted to extemporise on the harpsichord, his fat hands dimpled like a baby's. Little did he care about the girl who had pirated his Galatea when, hammered on the anvil of life, she was hostess to him, and he and Quin grew old together. "His hands are feet and his fingers are toes," said Quin after one of those Susanna evenings. But if he had