he conducted rehearsals.

At the age of nineteen Handel received the offer of the Luebeck organ, on
condition that he would marry the daughter of the retiring organist. He
went down with his friend Mattheson, who it seems had been offered
the same terms. They both returned, however, in single blessedness to
Hamburg.

Though the Luebeck maiden had stirred no bad blood between them, musical
rivalry did. A dispute in the theatre resulted in a duel. The only thing
that saved. Handel's life was a great brass button that shivered his
antagonist's point, when they were parted to become firm friends again.

While at Hamburg Handel's first two operas were composed, "Almira" and
"Nero." Both of these were founded on dark tales of crime and sorrow,
and, in spite of some beautiful airs and clever instrumentation, were
musical failures, as might be expected.

Handel had had enough of manufacturing operas in Germany, and so in
July, 1706, he went to Florence. Here he was cordially received; for
Florence was second to no city in Italy in its passion for encouraging
the arts. Its noble specimens of art creations in architecture,
painting, and sculpture, produced a powerful impression upon the young
musician. In little more than a week's time he composed an opera,
"Rodrigo," for which he obtained one hundred sequins. His next visit
was to Venice, where he arrived at the height of the carnival. Whatever
effect Venice, with its weird and mysterious beauty, with its marble
palaces, facades, pillars, and domes, its magnificent shrines and
frescoes, produced on Handel, he took Venice by storm. Handel's power as
an organist and a harpsichord player was only second to his strength as
a composer, even when, in the full zenith of his maturity, he composed
the "Messiah" and "Judas Maccabaeus."

"Il caro Sassone," the dear Saxon, found a formidable opponent as well
as dear friend in the person of Scarlatti. One night at a masked ball,
given by a nobleman, Handel was present in disguise. He sat at the
harpsichord, and astonished the company with his playing; but no one
could tell who it was that ravished the ears of the assembly. Presently
another masquerader came into the room, walked up to the instrument, and
called out: "It is either the devil or the Saxon!" This was Scarlatti,
who afterward had with Handel, in Florence and Rome, friendly contests
of skill, in which it seemed difficult to decide which was victor. To
satisfy the Venetian pu