“As the glorious strains of the ‘Hallelujah Chorus’ burst upon the awed assemblage, thick-witted George II found himself so deeply affected by Handel’s music (or so eager to shift his position) that he started to his feet with all the spontaneous verve a sixty-year-old gout-ridden monarch could muster. Instantly his phlegmatic courtiers also rose, and since no Englishman may remain seated while his King is standing, the audience at once followed suit, thus inaugurating a custom which persists to the present day. Actually the King’s gesture was more a tribute to Handel’s impressive music than an instance of exceptional religious devotion.... “It is a curious indication of public taste that this casual Eighteenth Century ‘fashion’ has remained for two centuries an inviolable tradition both in England and in America. Even today thousands who can scarcely distinguish F sharp from middle C punctiliously observe a custom established by a stupid Hanoverian king and his worldly court two hundred years ago.” Thanks to bigotry and organized religiosity, however, “Messiah” had only three performances in 1743, none in 1744, two in 1745 and none whatever till four years later. Newman Flower recounts that the master, being complimented on the work by a titled hearer, replied: “My lord, I should be sorry if I only entertained people; I wished to make them better.” Yet as late as 1756 a Miss Catherine Talbot, one of Handel’s most devoted admirers, could say that “the playhouse is an unfit place for such a solemn performance.” However, in the words of Robert Manson Myers, “England’s early rejection of ‘Messiah’ may be ascribed as much to personal resentment as to shallow musical taste.... Handel flaunted his independence and moved with resolute determination, snapping his fingers in the face of princely patrons and daring to defy the bluest blood in England. What was to be done with this insufferable German upstart, this mere musician, who despite persistent opposition succeeded in discharging his debts to the uttermost farthing? Chosen leaders of British ‘quality’ resolved to crush Handel at once. They devised a systematic campaign to boycott his oratorios, and no scheme proved too petty for the gratification of their spite.” * * *