From Villainous to Virtuous: Xerxes Through the Lens of Handel’s Ombra mai fu

[Originally submitted 23 August 2023]

First performed in 1738 as a homage to the Herodetean depiction of the Persian king Xerxes, the opening aria of Handel’s Serse serves as a foundation for the opera in entirety. Expressively titled Ombra mai fu, or ‘Never was a shade,’ the piece runs for a precious three minutes, curiously exploring the cruel king’s adoration of a plane tree that he discovers on his way to Sardis (Herodotus 7.31). As highlighted by Olga M. Davidson in her brief Notes on Xerxes and His Persian Empire, the depiction of Xerxes in Handel’s opera “differs from the historical emperor in many ways,” yet the “breathtaking” Ombra mai fu eloquently encapsulates the sacred connection between the king and his beloved plane tree (Davidson). Although the very premise of the despotic Xerxes worshiping a mere plant could be interpreted as a satirical ploy from Handel, this “gesture…is in fact true to the royal traditions of his [Xerxes’] dynasty” (Davidson). Thus, the masterfully crafted Ombra mai fu offers one a window through which a seldomly-envisioned Xerxes can be perceived: tender and venerable, Handel challenges our Herodotean perception of this heartless tyrant.

Although Handel almost certainly draws his lyric inspiration for the Ombra mai fu from Herodotus, the aria’s carefully crafted prose adopts an artistic commentary upon the historic text, thus revealing the intimately human nature of Xerxes’ connection to his sacred plane tree. In The Histories (7.31), Herodotus describes Xerxes as being taken with the “beauty” of the plane tree, resultantly presenting it with “golden decorations” and entrusting “it to the care of one of the Immortals” (Herodotus 7.31). Here, one is left rather confused: surely an almighty king would not provide what is ultimately nothing more than a plant with luxury lavishes and divine protection on account of its beauty? To compound upon such a perplexing proposition, Herodotus simply proceeds to pass over this profound curiosity with nothing more than a short acknowledgement. As a result, one remains wondering what it is about the plane tree’s “beauty” that compels such a response from Xerxes; although true to his dynastic traditions, the notion of a great king bowing before a tree — however beautiful — is plainly bemusing. Intriguingly, Handel provides further context where Herodotus [in 7.31] perhaps falls short. Not only is his Ombra mai fu dedicated to this episodic worship in entirety, but its lyrics provide one with a vivid illustration of the sheer adoration Xerxes holds for the plane tree:

Thus, Handel reveals that the plane tree’s shade is not only the dearest, loveliest and sweetest of all plants encountered by Xerxes, but that even the greatest of elements dare not intrude on its “tender and beautiful… peace of mind.” Fascinatingly, these lyrics adopt an anthropomorphic framing of the tree in relation to Xerxes—through Handel’s eyes, the king sees the plane not as a plant but as a human; it has a “mind” and can be violated. Indeed, if one removes the first two lines of the song and ignores the “shade” of the “plant” in the second verse, the piece transforms into a short love poem in which an individual expresses devotion to another. With this framing, one can viably justify the “gold decorations” and immortal protection gifted from Xerxes to the tree; through Handel’s lyricism, its mere “beauty” becomes a genuine humanistic connection that a simple reading of Herodotus (7.31) does not afford.

Whilst this prose provides a literal encapsulation of the connection between Handel’s Xerxes and his plane tree, the instrumentation of the Ombra mai fu serves as a figurative dedication to the king’s endearment. Composed for soprano castrato and a baroque string ensemble, the textural thinness of the piece tenderly creates an atmospheric venerability afforded only to the most elegantly dainty of songs. It is a highly intentional effort from Handel, who drops the previously-featured wind instruments from the score in order to create the gorgeous serenity produced by an isolated string section. As the opening aria of Serse, the Ombra mai fu serves to underpin the opera in entirety; clearly, Handel wants his portrayal of Xerxes to be built upon the exposed — and therefore delicate — instrumentation of this short piece. Furthermore, the timbre of the operatic Xerxes directly challenges one’s Herodotean understanding of this ruthless king. Despite the king’s historical status as a great ruler of “masculine” appearance, Handel designates that his Xerxes is to be performed by soprano castrato: a male singer, typically castrated, who has the ability to sing in the same range as a soprano, the highest of female voices. Resultantly, one is treated to the ethereal soaring of an effeminate voice, delicately supported by a thin string section. Not only does this confront one’s perception of the historical Xerxes, but it enables Handel to figuratively convey what he provides literally through his lyrics: the exposed accompaniment and soprano castrato voice of Xerxes paint him as a venerable and tender individual, generating a soft picture of the king as he praises the intricate beauty of his beloved plane tree.

This portrayal of Xerxes as an endearing worshiper is further enhanced by the actual music of the Ombra mai fu, thus providing a physical dimension to the literal and figurative foundations formed by its lyrics and instrumentation, respectively. Set firmly within a serene F major, the piece is reminiscent of a soft waltz with its 3⁄4 time signature and sparse harmonic texture throughout. Most deliberately, the accompaniment is both rhythmically and melodically simple; it provides an unobtrusive — yet beautiful — chordal foundation for the singer to “decorate,” much like the historic Xerxes adorning his plane tree with gold. It is not surprising, then, that when the singer first enters, the strings pause momentarily; gasp-like, the music perfectly precedes the floating voice of Xerxes, who enters with a remark of initial admiration: “ Ombra mai fu… | Shade there never was…” (Handel, trans. Nagy). From this very entrance, the melody is used to word paint—a compositional technique that “accentuates the lyrics of the aria” (Burns). Notably, when the soprano castrato Xerxes first mentions “ cara ed amblie | so dear and lovely,” his voice soars upwards to the highest note in the aria—an F5—from the “dear” to the “lovely,” which literally, physically, and figuratively emphasizes the aesthetic beauty of the tree over all else. In similar vein, the final line of the piece, “ soave più | or any more sweet,” also follows this pattern, only it is reprised down the octave: like a lullaby from parent to child, it highlights the king’s tender adoration for the “sweetness” of the plant. Seemingly, the music of the Ombra mai fu not only enhances Handel’s depiction of Xerxes, but embodies the very essence of the king’s endearment, endorsing the intentionally crafted lyrics and instrumentation of the piece.

The Ombra mai fu from Handel’s Serse literally, figuratively, and physically encapsulates the connection between Xerxes and his beloved plane tree, adding a nuanced layer of understanding to one’s perception of the historic Persian king. Whilst Heordotus simply justifies the ruler’s adoration of the plant with its “beauty” in 7.31, the aria provides us with a genuinely human way of understanding this — on the surface, confusing — phenomenon. Although an artistic commentary on the Herodotean depiction of Xerxes, Handel’s glorious work serves to enlighten one’s perspective surrounding the historically despotic king: perhaps this tyrant has a sensitivity beyond the pages of The Histories that document him.