, that he could not bear
to hear the tuning of instruments, and therefore at a performance this was
always done before he arrived. A musical wag, who knew how to extract some
mirth from Handel's irascibility of temper, stole into the orchestra, on a
night when the Prince of Wales was to be present, and untuned all the
instruments. As soon as the prince arrived, Handel gave the signal for
beginning, _con spirito;_ but such was the horrible discord, that the
enraged musician started up from his seat, and having overturned a double
bass, which stood in his way, he seized a kettle-drum, which he threw with
such violence at the leader of the band, that he lost his full-bottomed wig
in the effort. Without waiting to replace it, he advanced bare-headed to
the front of the orchestra, breathing vengeance, but so much choked with
passion, that utterance was denied him. In this ridiculous attitude he
stood staring and stamping for some moments, amidst a convulsion of
laughter; nor could he be prevailed upon to resume his seat, until the
prince went in person, and with much difficulty appeased his wrath.

Handel being only a musician, was obliged to employ some person to write
his operas and oratorios, which accounts for their being so very defective
as poetical compositions. One of those versifiers employed by him, once
ventured to suggest, in the most respectful manner, that the music he had
composed to some lines of his, was quite contrary to the sense of the
passage. Instead of taking this friendly hint as he ought to have done,
from one who (although not a Pindar) was at least a better judge of poetry
than himself, he looked upon the advice as injurious to his talents, and
cried out, with all the violence of affronted pride, "What! you teach me
music? The music is good music: confound your words! Here," said he,
thrumming his harpsichord, "are my ideas; go and make words to them."

Handel became afterwards the proprietor of the Opera House, London; and
presided at the harpsichord in the orchestra (piano-fortes not being then
known). His embellishments were so masterly, that the attention of the
audience was frequently diverted from the singing to the accompaniment, to
the frequent mortification of the vocal professors. A pompous Italian
singer was, on a certain occasion, so chagrined at the marked attention
paid to the harpsichord, in preference to his own singing, that he swore,
that if ever Handel played him a similar trick,