Isn’t it odd to lump Handel with Haydn? Not for Haydn who, like Beethoven, thought Handel the greatest composer of all. Not for Angela Hewitt either, but for different reasons. She senses an emotional affinity between the composers, just as she senses religious connotations in the music of Bach – a perception shared with Edwin Fischer whom she appears to venerate.

In her booklet-note she also “unashamedly” admits to sharing with him a relish for an old edition of Handel’s Chaconne that differs from one based on other sources. And she observes the repeat only in the theme, not in the variations. “Authenticists” might be dismayed and might even quail at her introspective rubato in the Suites, two of eight that Handel himself published in 1720 when George I granted him a Privilege of Copyright.

But that’s Hewitt, individual, and equally probing in the deeper waters of Haydn’s Variations where, towards the end, the music reflects a composer whose own faith seems to be sorely tested by personal tragedy. Hewitt is with him in his sobriety, lightness, fury and eventual exhaustion. Regrettably she omits the whimsical five bars – included in the autograph but not in Artaria’s first published version – that bridge the last variation to the return of the theme. Yet all has to be forgiven as Hewitt unfolds the drama of the last sonata through proud gesture and pathos. Rhetoric may be understated but her point of view grows with repetition. The recording never stands in your way.