tion of operatic music after it had ruined him; but it was
still some time before he fully appreciated the true turn of his genius,
which could not be trifled with or ignored. In his adversity he had some
consolation. His creditors were patient, believing in his integrity. The
royal family were his firm friends.

Southey tells us that Handel, having asked the youthful Prince of
Wales, then a child, and afterward George the Third, if he loved music,
answered, when the prince expressed his pleasure: "A good boy, a good
boy! You shall protect my fame when I am dead." Afterward, when the
half-imbecile George was crazed with family and public misfortunes, he
found his chief solace in the Waverley novels and Handel's music.

It is also an interesting fact that the poets and thinkers of the age
were Handel's firm admirers. Such men as Gay, Arbuthnot, Hughes, Colley
Cibber, Pope, Fielding, Hogarth, and Smollett, who recognized the deep,
struggling tendencies of the times, measured Handel truly. They defended
him in print, and never failed to attend his performances, and at
his benefit concerts their enthusiastic support always insured him an
overflowing house.

The popular instinct was also true to him. The aristocratic classes
sneered at his oratorios and complained at his innovations. His music
was found to be good bait for the popular gardens and the holiday-makers
of the period. Jonathan Tyers was one of the most liberal managers
of this class. He was proprietor of Vauxhall Gardens, and Handel
(_incognito_) supplied him with nearly all his music. The composer did
much the same sort of thing for Marylebone Gardens, furbishing up old
and writing new strains with an ease that well became the urgency of the
circumstances.

"My grandfather," says the Rev. J. Fountagne, "as I have been told, was
an enthusiast in music, and cultivated most of all the friendship of
musical men, especially of Handel, who visited him often, and had a
great predilection for his society. This leads me to relate an anecdote
which I have on the best authority. While Marylebone Gardens were
flourishing, the enchanting music of Handel, and probably of Arne, was
often heard from the orchestra there. One evening, as my grandfather and
Handel were walking together and alone, a new piece was struck up by the
band. 'Come, Mr. Fountagne,' said Handel, 'let us sit down and listen
to this piece; I want to know your opinion about it.' Down they sat, and
after s