Continuing where Handel left off: Opera Settecento’s completion of Handel’s Titus L’Empereur at London Handel Festival was a terrific showcase for some of the composer’s lesser-known arias

Handel/Renioult/Duarte: Titus l’Empereur; Steffen Jespersen, Rachel Redmond, Chiara Hendrick, Hugo Hymas, Lucija Vaarsic, Edward Grint, Francis Gush, Opera Settecento, Leo Duarte; London Handel Festival at St George’s Church, Hanover Square
Reviewed 5 March 2026

Handel’s tantalising unfinished, unrealised operatic fragment used as the starting point for a Racine-inspired opera showcasing some of Handel’s lesser-known arias in engaging and involving performances 

During the 1731/32 season, Handel began a new opera, titled on the manuscript Titus l’Empereur. Only the overture, three scenes including two arias were completed. Handel seems to have abandoned the work and the material was reused in his next opera Ezio (which was delivered late). 

Having given us a whole sequence of Handel’s pasticcios, Leo Duarte and Opera Settecento turned to Titus l’empereur for their latest project at the London Handel Festival. On Thursday 5 March 2026 at St George’s Church, Hanover Square, they performed a ‘new’ Handel pasticcio, Titus l’empereur with new recitatives by Pierre-Antoine Renioult and arias from Handel’s operas (mainly pre-1732) chosen by Leo Duarte. Countertenor Steffen Jespersen was Titus (emperor of Rome), soprano Rachel Redmond (queen of Palestine, betrothed to Titus) was Berenice, mezzo-soprano Ciara Hendrick was Antioco (king of Comagène and in love with Berenice), tenor Hugo Hymas was Paolino (a confidant of Titus), Lucija Varsic who won the audience prize at last year’s Handel Singing Competition was Dalinda (a confidante of Berenice), baritone Edward Grint was Oldauro (a Roman tribune), and countertenor Francis Gush was Arsete (a confidant of Antioco).

Handel’s libretto for the putative Titus l’Empereur has not survived, but it seems to have been intended as an adaptation of Racine’s 1670 play Bérénice. Given Handel’s use of French in the title (despite the opera being in Italian), commentators suggest that Racine’s play was being adapted directly and that the halting of work was caused by the librettist not being up to the task. Bérénice is in fact a relatively strange work to be considered for adaptation for an Italian opera. The entire play is taken up with the complexities of Titus and Berenice’s relationship when he becomes emperor but discovers the Roman people do not want a foreign queen, add in his friend Antioco’s unspoken love for Berenice and you have a complex triangle. But that is it. There is no subplot. It is worth bearing in mind that when Handel set the Alceste story in his opera Admeto the librettist introduced an entire subplot that is not in Euripides and not in Gluck’s Alceste.

Opera Settecento’s solution was to enlist the help of Professor Patrick Boyde in creating a libretto out of Racine’s play, which was then translated into Italian by Matteo Dalle Fratte and the recitative set by Pierre-Antoine Renioult in Handelian style. Leo Duarte chose the arias, focusing on the lesser known music from Handel’s operas pre-1732 including some that had never been performed. The result did exactly what pasticcios were often intended to do, to showcase music. We had arias from Amadigi, Floridante, Giulio Cesare, Lucio Silla, Ottone, Rinaldo, Scipione, Tamerlano and of course the original ones from Titus l’Empereur which found their way, in altered form, into Ezio. For the more nerdy amongst us, it was a shame that the programme was not able to give us more context for this music. So that, for instance, at a climactic point in Act Two Berenice sings ‘Piangero la sore mia’ from Giulio Cesare, but it definitely was not the well-known version of the aria. 

With one exception, arias were sung with their original texts which is something that may not have happened in Handel’s day but which is more understandable in our present musicologically conscious age. 

Whether Racine’s Bérénice was the idea vehicle is a point in question. Handel may have indeed been right. The final opera as performed in St George’s Hanover Square might have been called ‘Titus the ditherer’. Or, given that the plot happens almost simultaneously with that of Mozart’s opera, The Dithering of Titus!

Titus opens the opera in love with Berenice but being made aware that he needs to send her home and not marry her because the populace objects. For more than two acts, he puts off actually telling her, including moments when he tries then breaks down and rushes out the room. He is not a conventional opera seria hero who rises above his moral dilemmas. In fact, it is Berenice who displays real nobility. 

Thankfully, the Danish countertenor Steffen Jespersen brought great nobility and personality to the role, engendering real sympathy despite the character’s behaviour.  His music moved from his stately opening aria (one of the original ones) to a fascinating one from Ottone where the relatively dignified vocal line was punctuated by perky, uneven phrases in the orchestra disturbing the tenor of the piece. His accompagnato in Act Two (presumably written by Renioult) was when the character’s emotional journey hotted up and his aria at the end of that act, taken from Rinaldo, was urgent indeed but still sung with lovely tone by Jespersen. In Act Three, finally there is a scene between Berenice and Titus that gets to the nub of the matter. Renioult’s fine recit was strongly delivered by Jespersen and Rachel Redmond and Titus’s final aria, from Ottone, was delivered powerfully by Jespersen.

The most fully rounded, and most opera seria-like character was Antioco, played by Chiara Hendrick. It is this character who goes through the emotional wringer and Hendrick’s performance really lifted the drama. Her opening aria (one of the original ones) featured and urgent performance from Hendrick accompanied by striking sighing motifs in the orchestra. This was followed by a gentle yet intense number from Floridante, the pair drawing a picture of Antioco’s conflicted nature (friend of Titus yet loving Berenice, though she does not realise). Act One ends with Antioco and Berenice at odds, cue an urgent, vigorous duet from Tamerlano. Act Two saw Antioco finding hope, with vigorous passion in a terrific account of an aria from Floridante, leading in Act Three to the joyful aria also from Floridante which Hendrick made engaging yet intense. But this is a false dawn, though the end of the opera is devoted to Berenice and Titus and Antioco’s final sung words are in their trio (taken from Tamerlano).

Rachel Redmond’s Berenice really did go on a journey, but always with great poise. For most of Act One she was joyfully anticipating her nuptials with an aria of engaging charm from Floridante, and then joyful passagework in an aria from Amadigi. Act Two saw her singing the lesser-known ‘Piangero’ from Giulio Cesare, not heart-wrenching but certainly touching, and it was in a striking aria from Lucio Silla that strong passions really occurred. In Act Three she not only had the passionate recitative with Jespersen’s Titus but a dramatic accompagnato which culminated in a finely intense account of  ‘Troppo crudeli siete’ from Giulio Cesare; a fine aria which Handel replaced before the first performance.

The arias for the remaining characters were very fine indeed and all delivered their music admirably, but sometimes there was a sense that the drama was being held up. These are arias by servants and confidants, usually commenting on the action rather than propelling it forward. I did wonder whether it might have improved matters to replace some of these by a subplot involving Berenice’s confidant, Dalinda having a dalliance with one of Titus’s supporters – Paolino or Oldauro. Certainly this would have given the singers concerned something in the way of meaty drama to get their teeth into.

Lucija Varsic made Berenice’s confidante, Dalinda into someone profoundly sympathetic. Her first aria combined vigorous passagework with a rather decisive feeling as she was brisk in response to Berenice’s hopes. Her elegant aria in Act Two with its two recorders was rather moving even though it did hold up the action. Francis Gush’s Arsete had some fine moments indeed, though again this was a confidante commenting. His first aria, a simile aria at the beginning of Act Two, featuring a vocal line that moved onwards over restless strings, and he opened Act Three with an aria from Giulio Cesare where Gush demonstrated his rich tone and commitment. Hugo Hymas as Paolino seemed to express himself via vigorous passagework, always terrifically sung, in both his arias, the second of which (in Act Two) from Giulio Cesare featured Hymas duetting with perky recorders. Edward Grint brought his familiar warm, resonant tones to Oldauro making the character really worth hearing with a strong vocal presence. His first aria, in Act Two, from Tamerlano was finely vigorous 

The small orchestra (nine strings, two oboes/recorders, bassoon and two horns, plus harpsichord) took a little time to settle in the overture and one of the horn players seemed to struggle rather with a recalcitrant instrument. But Duarte’s vigorous direction (he is a very active, engaged conductor) drew fine playing from all concerned. 

Whether or not individual arias contributed to the overall drama, the level of performance and commitment from all concerned was terrific. The music was never less than engaging and, bearing in mind Duarte’s intention to showcase lesser-known arias, all the singers manage to make this unfamiliar music into moments that were by turns touching and terrifically bravura. Certainly the three principals, Steffen Jespersen, Rachel Redmond and Chiara Hendrick really drew you into the characters’ drama so that this was far more than a concert sequence of arias.