A few months earlier his royal friend, Queen Caroline, had died and Handel gave voice to his genuine grief in the great Funeral Anthem, “The Ways of Zion do Mourn.” And despite his misfortunes he busied himself with a charitable enterprise, the promotion of a Society for the Support of Decayed Musicians, which enlisted his active sympathies for the rest of his life. Not even benefactions of the sort could mollify the legions of his implacable enemies. His aristocratic foes, to hasten his complete downfall, actually hired hoodlums to tear down his posters and precipitate noisy disturbances whenever they thought trouble-making could in some way or other harm him. Yet a few friends stood unshakably by his side, none more faithfully than the loyal Mrs. Delany. Just when his creditors had seized him and threatened him with imprisonment the news of his tribulations gave rise to a popular movement of sympathy. In 1735 he had delighted the English public by his “Alexander’s Feast”, composed on Dryden’s “Ode to St. Cecilia”, produced triumphantly at the Covent Garden Theatre. It had been written in twenty days. As the years passed, Handel’s composing activity seemed incredibly accelerated. In the freezing winter of 1739 he wrote, “to keep himself warm” (as Rolland says) the “little” Cecilia cantata in a week, the version of Milton’s poem (under the title “L’Allegro, Il Penseroso ed Il Moderato”) in just under a fortnight, and the glorious Concerti Grossi, Opus 6, in a month distracted by his last operatic cares! Incidentally, Handel had received about this time a testimonial of public admiration in the form of a marble statue by the sculptor, Roubiliac, which a manager of musical entertainments named Tyers had caused to be erected in Vauxhall Gardens, a meeting place of London Society, where Handel’s works made up the best liked musical features. “THUS SAITH THE LORD,” FROM THE “MESSIAH.” [Illustration: As Handel wrote it, and—] [Illustration: As Christopher Smith transcribed it.] Still, by the spring of 1741, Handel in a moment of profoundest disheartenment prepared to throw up the sponge and leave for good and all his home for the past thirty years. At long last he was fed up on the struggle and announced one last concert for April 8, 1741. And then, when the darkness before dawn seemed blackest, he sat down to create his masterpiece, the most universally beloved choral work ever composed!