Handel and the English

Today I am wildly excited to welcome Sheena Vernon to the salon. Sheena is the author of the wonderful book, Messiah. Love, music and malice at a time of Handel, and is joining us to discuss the composer's life and work in England!

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Handel and the English

Handel was a Saxon yet his home for forty five years (1714-59) was London. He invented a new genre of music, the English dramatic oratorio, yet he came to fame as the composer of Italian opera. He made London the musical capital of Europe with musicians and singers that were almost exclusively foreign. And to complete the conundrum, he created a brand, headed by monarchs who originated from Hanover, that became the epitome of Britishness.

Yes, George Frideric was a mass of wonderful contradictions. Which is possibly why he and the British public had their ups and downs. In fact his ups and downs with pretty much everybody who was anybody were legendary; he was, after all, a ‘creative’ and therefore difficult at times to work with. His Italian singers found him an insufferable dictator. Which is why, in 1733, most of them walked out on him and joined a rival opera company. English composers like Thomas Arne resented the long shadow he cast, getting every commission for public occasions like royal marriages, deaths and coronations. The news sheets liked to deride the Italian Opera for promoting effeminacy and popery and aimed their most excoriating prose at its director, Handel, for encouraging Jonny Eunuch to caper round the stage shrieking in a language that no-one understood. The other accusation was that he was typically German, telling the English what their taste in music should be.

At one stage Handel left London, unable to take the barracking of the tabloids, the tantrums of his singers, and the hissing and growling of London’s beau monde who had divided into factions when the new opera company was set up as a rival to his. In the winter of 1741 he stomped off to Dublin for ten months and it was there that he premiered his greatest oratorio, The Messiah. During the years leading up to this rupture Handel not only endured the media brickbats, factionalism and peer group resentment just mentioned but had come close to bankruptcy, due to audiences being split across two opera companies.

George Frideric Handel by Balthasar Denner, 1726-28 

So why, you might be asking, did Handel make London his home and in 1727 become a naturalised citizen? Why didn’t he move to another Protestant court, in the Netherlands, maybe or Austria, Prussia, and even Hanover where he had once worked? The answer lies with what London had to offer musicians at the time. I think that the close group of sponsors who became his friends also played a part as well as the patronage of the royal family. Finally, Handel eventually hit on a formula which the public loved: he started to compose works in English and to rely on English singers. By the time of his death his airs were being played on every parade ground, in the pleasure gardens of Vauxhall, in the concert halls of provincial cities, and at the ceremonies that trumpeted British triumphs - the Treaty of Utrecht, the Treaty of Aix la Chapelle, the victory at Culloden.

The first half of the eighteenth century saw London became capitalistic, colonial and cosmopolitan (though none of those words existed). The fact that George 1st couldn’t speak English was, for English parliamentarians of the time, part of his charm; they wanted a figurehead who brought stability, they didn’t want a Stuart who believed he had divine rights or who would meddle in running the country. Nowhere else in Europe was there the same libertarian approach to governance that allowed new wealth to be created from trade and finance. For twenty five years Britain made money rather than war. When this period of peace ended in 1739 it was in order to fight the Spanish for trade dominance in the West Indies. 

Handel, being a businessman and entrepreneur, thrived in this ruthless, often brutal and always robust environment even though he was bruised at times. Unlike Mozart, when he died in 1759 he was well-off because there were opportunities to make money as a musician in London which did not exist elsewhere (this was the principal reason why London attracted so many foreign musicians); there were also new audiences from among the mercantile classes and this broke the grip of aristocratic patronage on the arts. 

An additional advantage for Handel was his relationship with the House of Hanover. King George ll was in all senses a philistine, but his father genuinely loved Italian opera and George ll’s spouse, Caroline, and her two eldest daughters - all three of the same Lutheran stock as the composer - were his friends. Handel’s friendship circles were small and tight but very loyal; his right hand man was a fellow Saxon, Johann Christophe Schmidt, but he also moved in several English circles, notably those round Lord Shrewsbury and his near neighbour Mrs Delaney, née Pendarves. When I read about his relations with the British musical and church establishment, I wonder sometimes if Handel wasn’t borderline Aspergers. But the existence of close friends suggests someone capable of considerable, albeit a crusty, charm, and his ongoing popularity with royalty, despite the fact that so many of them loathed each other, is testimony to his diplomatic skills. 

Finally, Handel and the British grew to love one another. After 1741 Handel composed no more Italian operas, focusing instead on English oratorios. Some say this was merely because the opera was just too uneconomic, but maybe Handel himself saw the need to evolve as a musician. Above all of this, he became an institution; the Hallelujah chorus, Zadock the Priest, the water music and the fireworks music are only the tip of a huge Handelian iceberg that defined public life, that made him, truly, one of us.

Sheena Vernon is author of the novel ‘Messiah. Love, music and malice at a time of Handel,’ which is available in paperback, as an ebook or in audio. http://tinyurl.com/povxsus

@BigHandelfan

www.dontyoulovetheeighteenthcentury.com  http://ow.ly/Ioxnv

Written content of this post copyright © Sheena Vernon, 2015.

Roubiliac's Monument to Handel

As regular visitors will know, I am a keen enthusiast of paintings from the glorious Georgian era. I am far from an expert but can happily lose hours studying the work of the era, hopefully learning one or two things along the way. My knowledge of sculpture is somewhat more lacking but today it is that medium that draws my interest, as we take to a trip to Westminster Abbey to mark the anniversary of the unveiling of a hugely impressive monument.

On this day in 1762, three years after the death of George Frideric Handel, Louis-François Roubiliac's breathtaking sculpture of the composer was finally revealed. Roubiliac had sculpted Handel more than twenty years earlier as a commission for Jonathan Tyers, the owner of Vauxhall Pleasure Gardens but whereas that was a somewhat casual depiction of the composer, the Westminster Abbey work was to be far more formal.

The life-size statue shows a finely-dressed Handel among heavenly clouds, accompanied by angels and with a copy of the Messiah score in pride of place. An ornate organ and other instruments are also part of the scene, making the clear point that, even in heaven, Handel would not be kept from composing. The statue is positioned above Handel's final resting place and was modelled from the composer's death mask, so we can be sure that it is an excellent likeness. 

This stunning funereal monument was created thanks to a specific point in Handel's will in which he asked that he be buried in Westminster Abbey, with a monument erected to his memory. I think he might have been pleased with the result!

The Premiere of Serse

We have previously met George Frideric Handel on more than one occasion and witnessed the premieres of both the Water Music and Coronation Anthems. Those works were celebrated by those who heard him, but his opera, Serse, which premiered on this day in 1738, was not quite an instant hit. 

In late 1737 the King's Theatre in the Haymarket was on the lookout for new material and Handel was commissioned to write two new operas. The first, Faramondo, received its premiere on 3rd January 1738 and the second, Serse, was to receive its premiere on 15th April 1738.

George Frideric Handel by Balthasar Denner, 1726-28 

From late December to mid-February Handel laboured on Serse. Faramondo opened to something less than acclaim in January and closed after just eight performances, which hardly filled the composer with confidence for his next work. The follow up piece was eagerly awaited by theatregoers though, who were keen to see if Handel's second composition for the theatre would be an improvement on Faramondo. 

However, as they crowded into the auditorium on the Spring night, the eager audience were wholly unprepared for this innovative new opera and when they left several hours later, enthusiasm had turned to dislike. The opera was quite unlike Handel's other works and bucked the trend of highly serious works by including comic elements that set the collective teeth of the audience on edge. Not only that, but the style of the composition was also different to that which had become the norm as it contained a series of short arias as opposed to the expected longer pieces.

Serse was a failure and Handel's opera closed after five performances. In fact, it was not to receive a major revival for  almost two centuries when it was welcomed by audiences. It remains popular to this day, the opera that had so befuddled Georgian audiences a regular fixture across the globe.

Niccolò Porpora: From Riches to Rags

Niccolò Porpora (Niccolò Antonio Porpora; Naples, Italy, 17th August 1686 – Naples, Italy, 3rd March 1768) 

We Gilflurts all love a singsong and I have been to take the occasional singing lesson to brush up my skills, not that I will be commanding any of the world's stages anytime soon! Today's guest was a celebrated singing tutor and composer who travelled Europe and went head to head with Handel.

Born to a bookseller, Porpora's father arranged for his son to attend musical tuition and as a young man he attended the Conservatorio dei Poveri di Gesu Cristo in Naples, where he shone as a dedicated and successful student and later became a student teacher. He was only 21 when his first opera, L'Agrippina, was performed at the Neapolitan court to great acclaim. This was the start of an illustrious operatic career, with works performed in the most illustrious courts in Europe where he also served as a tutor and composer or opera and religious pieces.

However, Porpora's first love and greatest skill was for teaching and his most famed pupil was the acclaimed castrato, Farinelli, His reputation as a tutor was known throughout Europe and the most celebrated singers on the continent flocked to his rooms at the Conservatorio di Sant'Onofrio and he continued writing at the same time, with his pupils often performing in his operas.

In 1725 Porpora moved to Venice where he continued to compose and teach and just four years later, he settled in London where he was instrumental in establishing a new opera company, the Opera of the Nobility. The company was intended to rival Handel's successes and once again employed Farinelli as a lead yet their productions failed to set audience pulses racing and the effort ended in bankruptcy.

In the years that followed Porpora enjoyed several high profile roles at European courts and even employed the young Joseph Haydn as an accompanist, travelling the continent with him to continue his work as a tutor. However, his compositions were no longer as fashionable as once they were and as his popularity waned so too did his finances began to suffer and by the time Porpora died, he was so poor that he left no money to meet his own funeral costs. The musicians of Naples now arranged one final performance and performed a concert at the church of Ecce Homo, to pay for the composer's burial at the same church.

A Salon Guest... Jonathan Tyers – Creator of Vauxhall Pleasure Gardens

It is an absolute delight to welcome Grace Elliot to the salon today as part of her blog tour for her new novel, The Ringmaster's Daughter. Grace her a tale to tell of a true Georgian character; not only that, but she has shared more about her novel below too!

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My name is Grace, and it’s lovely to pay a call on Madame Gilflurt. Since Madame has an appreciation for 18th century characters it seems appropriate to post about Jonathan Tyers, who in part inspired my latest release, The Ringmaster’s Daughter. 

In the mid 18th century, Jonathan Tyers became best known for making the Vauxhall Pleasure Gardens into a spectacular success that lasted another hundred years. Under his ownership the gardens went from a fairly average recreation area on the south bank of the Thames, to the place to visit. From the sensational lighting to orchestral music, from plays to wooded walks, under his stewardship Vauxhall Pleasure Gardens became the haunt of everyone from the Prince of Wales to the common man. His creative innovations were ahead of their time, as was his canny instinct for marketing and publicity. Tyers achievements were many, but what interests us today is the man behind the hype. 

Tyers was born in 1702, into a family of leatherworkers – dealing in hides and skins.  Perhaps he was ashamed of his humble roots because a recurrent theme during his life was raising his social status from tradesman to gentry. Indeed, Tyers was adept at reinventing not only the gardens –but himself. 
At the age of just 27 Tyers acquired the lease for the Spring Gardens at Vauxhall (later renamed the Vauxhall Gardens) for an annual rent of £250. Over the next thirty years he bought out the lease, finally owning the gardens in 1758. A shrew business man with a talent for advertising, Tyers used the talents of eminent artists and musicians of the day. He enlisted William Hogarth to design season tickets, and Handel to compose music for the gardens. Some of his marketing techniques included having a special barge sail up and down the Thames, with musicians on deck playing Handel’s new pieces – to be played at the gardens that night.  

Tyers hung hundreds of lanterns (an unthinkably extravagant number in the 18th century) from trees lining the walks. Not content with illuminating the gardens, he developed a revolutionary technique of lighting the lanterns, all at the same time – a sight akin to magic in the 1750’s. This rouse was such a success that people flocked to the gardens – just to see the lights being switched on. 

But what of Tyers himself? He married a woman, Elizabeth, two years older than him and already a widow. Evidently, she was a woman of character and positivity, because, when in old age the house was burgled and a considerable amount of silver stolen – instead of complaining she marveled at the skill of the thieves in breaking in without waking anyone. 

Tyers was renowned for having a changeable character. For periods of time he was highly motivated and creative, but this alternated with periods of withdrawal and profound melancholia when he became suicidal. It has been postulated he may have suffered from a psychological condition such as bipolar disorder. 

Under Tyer’s ownership from 1729 to his death in 1767, Vauxhall became the haunt of the fashionable elite – from royalty to dukes, landowners and merchants. For the admission cost of one shilling, the visitor had the exciting prospect of rubbing shoulders with the celebrities of the day.

Tyers was passionate about Vauxhall right up until his death in 1767. When he was terminally ill, he insisted on being carried through the gardens to say farewell to the place he loved so much. He died at his house in the gardens on 1 July aged 65. He left behind a widow, two daughters and two sons (the younger of which took over the running of the gardens). Jonathan was buried in a churchyard near his family home in Bermondsey.  The grave  was not marked and the only commemoration to his life now existing is in the street names around the site of the old Vauxhall. 

So how did Jonathan Tyers inspire The Ringmaster’s Daughter?  The novel is based in the fictional setting of Foxhall Gardens – in part inspired by Vauxhall. The heroine, Henrietta Hart, is the daughter of one of the performers and our story starts when her father becomes too ill to work and somehow she must make a living…

About Grace

Grace Elliot leads a double life as a veterinarian by day and author of historical romance by night. Grace lives near London and is housekeeping staff to five cats, two teenage sons, one husband and a bearded dragon. 

Grace believes that everyone needs romance in their lives as an antidote to the modern world. The Ringmaster’s Daughter is Grace’s fifth novel, and the first in a new series of Georgian romances. 

The Ringmaster’s Daughter – synopsis

1770’s London

The ringmaster’s daughter, Henrietta Hart, was born and raised around the stables of Foxhall  Gardens. Now her father is gravely ill, and their livelihood in danger. The Harts' only hope is to convince Foxhall’s new manager, Mr Wolfson, to let Hetty wield the ringmaster’s whip. Hetty finds herself drawn to the arrogant Wolfson but, despite their mutual attraction, he gives her an ultimatum: entertain as never before – or leave Foxhall.

When the winsome Hetty defies society and performs in breeches, Wolfson’s stony heart is in danger. Loath as he is to admit it, Hetty has a way with horses…and men. Her audacity and determination awaken emotions long since suppressed.

But Hetty’s success in the ring threatens her future when she attracts the eye of the lascivious Lord Fordyce. The duke is determined, by fair means or foul, to possess Hetty as his mistress – and, as Wolfson’s feelings for Henrietta grow, disaster looms.

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This post copyright © Grace Elliot, 2014.

An Abrasive Regent: Anne, Princess Royal and Princess of Orange

Anne, Princess Royal and Princess of Orange (Hanover, Germany, 2nd November 1709 – The Hague, The Netherlands, 12th January 1759) 

Anne, Princess Royal and Princess of Orange, 1736

Not so long ago we met the well-meaning if not always successful William IV, Prince of Orange and today I'm pleased to introduce his wife, Anne, Princess Royal and Princess of Orange. A lady of illustrious lineage, Anne was the daughter of the future King George II and granddaughter to the man who would become King George I. A woman of strong will and no small amount of political talent, she endured personal trials on the road to power.

When Anne was born to George and Caroline of Ansbach at Herrenhausen Palace, her grandfather was not yet King of Great Britain and she was titled Duchess Anne of Brunswick-Lunenburg, named in honour of her grandfather's second cousin Queen Anne. As was usual for a young lady of her station, Anne enjoyed a comprehensive education and excelled in music under the illustrious tuition of our old friend, Handel. These lessons with the composer left Anne with a lifelong appreciation for music and she was particularly fond of the work of her tutor, who would later provide the music to accompany her own words at her wedding to William.

Anne, Princess Royal and Princess of Orange by Johann Valentin Tischbein, 1753

The young Duchess spent much of her childhood in England and at the age of eleven Anne was laid low by smallpox; her suffering caused Caroline of Ansbach to have her other daughters inoculated but by then, it was too late for the young Duchess. Permanently scarred by the disease, Anne was not cowed by her misfortune and returned to her studies as she recovered, her parents already on the lookout for a suitable match. She was named Princess Royal in 1727 by her father, becoming the second holder of the title.

Anne was one of the many potential candidates on the shortlist of possible brides for King Louis XV of France but nothing came of this particular negotiation. Instead, she was married to William IV, Prince of Orange on 25th March 1734 in the Chapel Royal at St James's Palace. The couple formed an immediate fondness for one another and once their honeymoon at Kew was over, the newlyweds sailed for Holland. As we will see, their life was not always picture-perfect but they eventually had five children, two of whom would survive into adulthood.

Anne, Princess Royal and Princess of Orange by Bernard Accama, 1736

Although happy in the company of her husband, when William left his bride at home and travelled to the Rhineland on military business, Anne found herself utterly at sea in her new home and became dreadfully homesick for the familiar surroundings she had left behind. Absolutely convinced that she was pregnant, she travelled back to England and remained there until her father and husband decided that enough was enough, and told her to return to Holland. In fact, there was no pregnancy and Anne returned to her husband and tried once again to settle into married life, finally establishing herself at court and creating a home of her own. A force to be reckoned with, Anne was politically astute and opinionated, two traits that would certainly come to the fore in later years.

In 1751 the 40 year old William died, leaving his widow as regent for their three year old son, William V. She served in this role until her death, proving herself as a leader even as her somewhat abrasive personality made her less than popular. Not all of her policies were successful though and she was not able to secure Dutch support for England in the Seven Years' War, finding increasing antagonism between her adopted homeland and that of her childhood difficult to reconcile.

The formidable regent finally succumbed to dropsy at the age of 49; more regents would follow until William V finally reached majority in 1766, beginning an eventful reign and a story for another time!

Life in the Georgian Court, true tales of 18th century royalty, is available at the links below.

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The Premiere of the Coronation Anthems

George Frideric Handel by Balthasar Denner, 1726-28 

Not so long ago I told the tale of the premiere of the Water Music, which was written by George Frideric Handel in 1717 to accompany George I and his illustrious friends on a barge trip down the Thames. A favourite at the house of Hanover, Handel was to receive another royal commission a decade later, this time from the son of his original benefactor. Once again the request was for music befitting a king and, as with the Water Music, once again Handel would produce a timeless, powerful piece.

On 11th June 1727, George I died at Osnabrück. He was succeeded as King of Great Britain and Ireland by his son, George Augustus, who immediately set about planning his coronation. Of course, the ceremony would come nowhere close to rivalling the scale of George IV's opulent coronation but when the new king began to think about the music that would accompany the festivities, he turned immediately to Handel.

The former Kapellmeister toiled tirelessly over the new compositions, segmenting the coronation ceremony into quarters, each of which would be accompanied by one of four new Coronation Anthems. The anthems premiered on 11th October 1727 and were entitled Let Thy Hand Be Strengthened, Zadok the Priest, The King Shall Rejoice and My Heart Is Inditing.  

George II by Thomas Hudson

Plans were laid for the anthems to be performed by the choir of the Chapel Royal, accompanied by almost 50 additional singers and an enormous orchestra, cementing Handel's reputation as a composer on a grand scale. Incorporating text from the King James Bible, the anthems celebrated the anointing of the new king and the crowning of the queen, building from a low-key start to a rousing, choral celebration.

Quite unlike George IV's precision-planned coronation, on the big day there was confusion among the singers as to exactly when each anthem should be sung. The choir forgot to perform one anthem altogether and though Zadok the Priest was intended to provide a rousing accompaniment to the sovereign's anointing, the piece ended up being sung at the wrong point of the ceremony. Still, my grandmother Gilflurt was there on the day and says it sounded wonderful nonetheless! 

Since that day in 1727 the majestic anthem, Zadok the Priest, has become one of the most famous pieces of music ever written, performed at every coronation since George II. A jubilant celebration, Zadok the Priest is a true Giflurt favourite!

Life in the Georgian Court, true tales of 18th century royalty, is available at the links below.

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The Financial Misfortunes of James Brydges, Duke of Chandos

James Brydges, 1st Duke of Chandos, PC DL FRS (Hereford, England, 6th January 1673 – England, 9th August 1744) 

James Brydges, Duke of Chandos by Michael Dahl, 1719

We're back in England today to meet a gentleman who went from the heights of wealth to the doldrums of debt and provided sport for Alexander Pope along the way!

James Brydges was the oldest child of fourteen children born to Sir James Brydges, 8th Baron Chandos and Elizabeth Barnard. In addition to the title of Baron Chandos, taken after his father's death, he was also 1st Viscount Wilton, 1st Earl of Carnarvon, 1st Duke of Chandos and 1st Marquess of Carnarvon. He served as Member of Parliament for Hereford for almost twenty years, making and losing a fortune in the process.

Like many of his peers, the Duke enjoyed a privileged upbringing. He was schooled at Westminster and Oxford University before beginning a highly lucrative political career as Paymaster-General of the Forces Abroad during the War of the Spanish Succession. Enjoying the patronage of the Duke of Marlborough, Brydges became a Duke in 1717 and lived a high profile life of luxury and influence.

The Chandos Family by Godfrey Kneller, 1713 (The Duke, Henry, Cassandra Willoughby, his second wife, and John)

We Georgians know that there is no sense in having money if you don't let everybody know about it and Brydges understood that better than most. As part of his first wife's dowry he took up hime at Canons, a country estate in Middlesex, and began work on a house in Cavendish Square that was never completed. Although the Duke was a man who liked to show off his wealth he wasn't entirely without a social conscience and was involved in the creation of the Foundling Hospital, serving as a governor to the charity. He was also a champion of education and founded the Chandos Chair of Medicine and Anatomy at the University of St Andrews, which still exists today.

When he wasn't occupied with universities, charity and grand building schemes, the Duke was a lover of the arts and employed Handel as a live-in composer in Middlesex. Handel composed the Chandos Anthems in recognition of the Duke's generosity and the two were devoted friends until the our hero's finances became a little stretched, at which point Handel departed Canons for pastures new. Like the subject of our post earlier this week, the Duke was considerably less popular with Alexander Pope, who took an affectionate swipe at Canons in Epistle to the Earl of Burlington. However, once word began to spread that Brydges was the subject of his satire, Pope was quick to claim that no malice or mockery had been intended. 

James Brydges, Duke of Chandos by Herman van der Mijn, 1725

Despite his early financial success, the Duke of Chandos was not always so canny when it came to financial speculation. He made poor investments and lost a fortune when the  South Sea Bubble burst, though a judicious marriage kept him afloat, if in somewhat reduced circumstances. In fact, the true extent his monetary straits only became known after his death when his son, Henry, became 2nd Duke of Chandos and found himself deeply mired in his father's debt. So dire was the situation that the new Duke was left with no choice but to sell off the contents, fittings and architectural elements of Canons before having the remains of the house demolished in 1747.

Monument at Whitchurch
(photograph from www.findagrave.com)

The Duke was predeceased by two of his three wives and one of his two children. He was laid to rest in Whitchurch and his monument is as lavish as you might expect from a man who knew how to show off his wealth, even when he had none!

The Premiere of the Water Music, 1717

There are no nice ways of saying this, but my great-grandmother Gilflurt was a bit of a one. There was nothing she liked more than a party and nobody she would rather galavant with than that old Hanoverian rogue, George I.

George knew how to throw a bash and he also knew that people expected something more than a round of whist and last year's favourite tunes so he turned to his old Kapellmeister, George Frideric Handel, to commission some musical entertainment to accompany his latest and most ambitious party. Handel had previously served George in Germany and gossip had it that he had left for England under something of a cloud, so this was an invaluable chance to win back the favour of the monarch.

George Frideric Handel by Balthasar Denner, 1726-28 

George's vision was of a party for the great and good with a difference. This celebration would take place on a river barge cruising along the Thames on a summer evening, eventually docking at Chelsea. Travelling in the early evening, there would be no need to row as the tide would propel the barge upstream at a leisurely pace, allowing the partygoers to enjoy the view and the company. A second barge would travel alongside carrying fifty musicians, performing the piece of music Handel had been asked to provide.

Handel eventually delivered the Water Music and as the barges began their stately journey from Whitehall Palace at 8.00pm on 17th July, 1717, with George I accompanied by a number of illustrious guests, his orchestra safely ensconced on the neighbouring vessel and all manner of Londoners sailing alongside as the the Thames filled with people eager to hear the new composition. On arrival at Chelsea the royal party took to the shore for a while before returning to their barge at 11.00pm.

The first performance of the Water Music

Handel's music was an instant hit with the king and it was performed three times during the trip, the orchestra providing a gentle accompaniment to the festivities until just past midnight. As the strains of the orchestra faded away and the people of London returned their boats to the riverside and went to their beds, Handel's favour at court was firmly and permanently re-established.


If that's got you all fired up for more Handel, gallivant over to  Two Kings and a Composer by Christopher Antony Meade, a fascinating romp through Handel's relationship with George I and George II!

What? You want even more? Listen to Handel's Water Music here.

Life in the Georgian Court, true tales of 18th century royalty, is available at the links below.

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