The name of Dr. Greene is best known in connection with choral compositions.  His relations with Handel and Bononcini are hardly creditable to him.  He seems to have flattered each in turn.  He upheld Bononcini in the great madrigal controversy, and appears to have wearied Handel by his repeated visits.  The great Saxon easily saw through the flatteries of a man who was in reality an ambitious rival, and joked about him, not always in the best taste.  When he was told that Greene was giving concerts at the “Devil Tavern,” near Temple Bar, “Ah!” he exclaimed, “mein poor friend Toctor Greene—­so he is gone to de Tevil!”

From 1732 to 1740 Handel’s life presents the suggestive and often-repeated experience in the lives of men of genius—­a soul with a great creative mission, of which it is half unconscious, partly yielding to and partly struggling against the tendencies of the age, yet gradually crystallizing into its true form, and getting consecrated to its true work.  In these eight years Handel presented to the public ten operas and five oratorios.  It was in 1731 that the great significant fact, though unrecognized by himself and others, occurred, which stamped the true bent of his genius.  This was the production of his first oratorio in England.  He was already playing his operas to empty houses, the subject of incessant scandal and abuse on the part of his enemies, but holding his way with steady cheerfulness and courage.  Twelve years before this he had composed the oratorio of “Esther,” but it was still in manuscript, uncared for and neglected.  It was finally produced by a society called Philharmonic, under the direction of Bernard Gates, the royal chapel-master.  Its fame spread wide, and we read these significant words in one of the old English newspapers:  “‘Esther,’ an English oratorio, was performed six times, and very full.”

Shortly after this Handel himself conducted “Esther” at the Haymarket by royal command.  His success encouraged him to write “Deborah,” another attempt in the same field, and it met a warm reception from the public, March 17, 1733.

For about fifteen years Handel had struggled heroically in the composition of Italian operas.  With these he had at first succeeded; but his popularity waned more and more, and he became finally the continued target for satire, scorn, and malevolence.  In obedience to the drift of opinion, all the great singers, who had supported him at the outset, joined the rival ranks or left England.  In fact it may be almost said that the English public were becoming dissatisfied with the whole system and method of Italian music.  Colley Cibber, the actor and dramatist, explains why Italian opera could never satisfy the requirement of Handel, or be anything more than an artificial luxury in England:  “The truth is, this kind of entertainment is entirely sensational.”  Still both Handel and his friends and his foes, all the exponents of musical opinion in England, persevered obstinately in warming this foreign exotic into a new lease of life.