Caro Howell
“This annotation details the mistakes that were made at a state ceremony that should have run like clockwork… but clearly didn’t. It makes you wonder if today’s royal occasions are as precise as we’re led to believe.
Sure, all the courtiers and aristocrats have to move around in a strict pecking order but would punters know if a huge organisational gaffe occurred?
I expect that the attention to detail in the 18th century was no more or less than happens now but human nature is such that the best-laid plans and all that.
When psalms or an entire lesson were omitted – as detailed here – did no one peer at the order of service and say: ‘Hang on!’? Perhaps they did; after all, it’s rarely a problem if a church service is actually shorter than you thought it was going to be. Objects like this give history a real human touch.
It’s wonderful to think that there in the middle of it all was George Frideric Handel – composer of music for Royal functions and, of course, a governor of the original Foundling Hospital – turning majesty into sound while human error slightly undermines the whole enterprise.
Queen Caroline and George II’s coronation ten years earlier didn’t exactly go to plan, either. Someone got his four anthems in a muddle and Zadok the Priest, which has been performed at every subsequent British coronation, was aired twice.
At the Foundling, we’re keen to enable visitors to realise that in helping to establish the original hospital, Handel and fellow benefactor William Hogarth were artists getting stuck into a contemporary social issue just as Grayson Perry or Jeremy Deller work with us today on improving the lot of vulnerable young people.
Our exhibition has some remarkable stories for everyone, from early music aficionados to people like me who couldn’t carry a tune if my life depended on it.
Handel was at the centre of court life. He knew the king back in Hanover so would have been a friendly face in London when the strange finger of fate pointed George towards to the throne.
All these state occasions – marriages, birthdays, funerals – were, therefore, family affairs involving people he knew intimately yet he managed to maintain total autonomy. How wretched must it have been for the official court composer at the time whose name no one can remember?
We have a Handel gallery with musical chairs – big leather, wingback jobs – playing his tunes and every so often I’ll go in there on a Friday afternoon and there are clearly people skiving off work, listening intently in worlds of their own.”
Caro Howell is the director of the Foundling Museum in London
Handel’s Music for Royal Occasions runs until 18 May
“This annotation details the mistakes that were made at a state ceremony that should have run like clockwork… but clearly didn’t. It makes you wonder if today’s royal occasions are as precise as we’re led to believe.
Sure, all the courtiers and aristocrats have to move around in a strict pecking order but would punters know if a huge organisational gaffe occurred?
I expect that the attention to detail in the 18th century was no more or less than happens now but human nature is such that the best-laid plans and all that.
When psalms or an entire lesson were omitted – as detailed here – did no one peer at the order of service and say: ‘Hang on!’? Perhaps they did; after all, it’s rarely a problem if a church service is actually shorter than you thought it was going to be. Objects like this give history a real human touch.
It’s wonderful to think that there in the middle of it all was George Frideric Handel – composer of music for Royal functions and, of course, a governor of the original Foundling Hospital – turning majesty into sound while human error slightly undermines the whole enterprise.
Queen Caroline and George II’s coronation ten years earlier didn’t exactly go to plan, either. Someone got his four anthems in a muddle and Zadok the Priest, which has been performed at every subsequent British coronation, was aired twice.
At the Foundling, we’re keen to enable visitors to realise that in helping to establish the original hospital, Handel and fellow benefactor William Hogarth were artists getting stuck into a contemporary social issue just as Grayson Perry or Jeremy Deller work with us today on improving the lot of vulnerable young people.
Our exhibition has some remarkable stories for everyone, from early music aficionados to people like me who couldn’t carry a tune if my life depended on it.
Handel was at the centre of court life. He knew the king back in Hanover so would have been a friendly face in London when the strange finger of fate pointed George towards to the throne.
All these state occasions – marriages, birthdays, funerals – were, therefore, family affairs involving people he knew intimately yet he managed to maintain total autonomy. How wretched must it have been for the official court composer at the time whose name no one can remember?
We have a Handel gallery with musical chairs – big leather, wingback jobs – playing his tunes and every so often I’ll go in there on a Friday afternoon and there are clearly people skiving off work, listening intently in worlds of their own.”
Caro Howell is the director of the Foundling Museum in London
Handel’s Music for Royal Occasions runs until 18 May
