go to ’Theodora’—­dere was room enough to dance dere when dat was perform.”  When Handel heard that an enthusiast had offered to make himself responsible for all the boxes the next time the despised oratorio should be given—­“He is a fool,” said he; “the Jews will not come to it as to ‘Judas Maccabaeus,’ because it is a Christian story; and the ladies will not come, because it is a virtuous one.”

Handel’s triumph was now about to culminate in a serene and acknowledged preeminence.  The people had recognized his greatness, and the reaction at last conquered all classes.  Publishers vied with each other in producing his works, and their performance was greeted with great audiences and enthusiastic applause.  His last ten years were a peaceful and beautiful ending of a stormy career.

VIII.

Thought lingers pleasantly over this sunset period.  Handel throughout life was so wedded to his art, that he cared nothing for the delights of woman’s love.  His recreations were simple—­rowing, walking, visiting his friends, and playing on the organ.  He would sometimes try to play the people out at St. Paul’s Cathedral, and hold them indefinitely.  He would resort at night to his favorite tavern, the “Queen’s Head,” where he would smoke and drink beer with his chosen friends.  Here he would indulge in roaring conviviality and fun, and delight his friends with sparkling satire and pungent humor, of which he was a great master, helped by his amusing compound of English, Italian, and German.  Often he would visit the picture galleries, of which he was passionately fond.  His clumsy but noble figure could be seen almost any morning rolling through Charing Cross; and every one who met old Father Handel treated him with the deepest reverence.

The following graphic narrative, taken from the “Somerset House Gazette,” offers a vivid portraiture.  Schoelcher, in his “Life of Handel,” says that “its author had a relative, Zachary Hardcastle, a retired merchant, who was intimately acquainted with all the most distinguished men of his time, artists, poets, musicians, and physicians.”  This old gentleman, who lived at Paper Buildings, was accustomed to take his morning walk in the garden of Somerset House, where he happened to meet with another old man, Colley Cibber, and proposed to him to go and hear a competition which was to take place at midday for the post of organist to the Temple, and he invited him to breakfast, telling him at the same time that Dr. Pepusch and Dr. Arne were to be with him at nine o’clock.  They go in; Pepusch arrives punctually at the stroke of nine; presently there is a knock, the door is opened, and Handel unexpectedly presents himself.  Then follows the scene: 

“Handel:  ’Vat! mein dear friend Hardgasdle—­vat! you are merry py dimes!  Vat! and Misder Golley Cibbers too! ay, and Togder Peepbush as veil!  Vell, dat is gomigal.  Veil, mein friendts, andt how vags the vorldt wid you, mein tdears?  Bray, bray, do let me sit town a momend.’