Chambers's Edinburgh Journal, No. 455

Those who are acquainted with the Irish metropolis—not merely with the handsome streets and squares eastward, which are now the abodes of gentility, but with the dirty thoroughfares about the cathedrals—have observed the large houses which some of them contain, now let in single rooms to a wretched population, and need scarcely be told that they were once the abodes of wealth and luxury. Fishamble Street, in this quarter of the town, is one of the oldest streets in Dublin. 'Under the eastern gable of the ancient cathedral of Christ's Church, separated and hidden from it by a row of houses, it winds its crooked course down the hill from Castle Street to the Liffey, as forlorn and neglected as other old streets in its vicinity. A number of trunkmakers' shops give it an aspect somewhat peculiar; miserable alleys open from it on the right and left; a barber's pole or two overhang the footway; and huxters' shops are frequent, with their wonted array of articles more useful than ornamental. One would never guess, looking at this old street, that it was once the festive resort of the wealthy and refined. It needs an effort of imagination to conceive of it as having witnessed the gay throng of fashion and aristocracy; the vice-regal cortège; ladies, in hoops and feathers; and "white-gloved beaux," in bag, and sword, and chapeau; with scores of liveried footmen and pages; and the press of coaches, and chariots, and sedan-chairs. Yet such was the scene often presented here in the eighteenth century.' For see, in an oblique angle of the street, and somewhat retired from the other houses, is a mean, neglected old building, with a wooden porch, still known by name as the Fishamble Street Theatre. This is the remaining part of what was originally 'the great music-hall,' built by a charitable musical society, 'finished in the most elegant manner, under the direction of Captain Castell,' and opened to the public on the 2d October 1741. It was within these walls that the notes of the Messiah first sounded in the ears of an enraptured audience, and here that its author entered on a new career of fame.

To prepare for the reception of this, his master-work, Handel first gave a series of musical entertainments, consisting of some of his earlier oratorios, and other kindred compositions. They commanded a most distinguished auditory, including the Lord-Lieutenant and his family, and were crowned with success in a pecuniary point of view, answering, and indeed exceeding, the composer's highest expectations. In a letter written at this time to Mr C. Jennens, who had selected the words of the Messiah, and composed those of a cantata which had been much admired, he describes, in glowing colours, his happy position, and informs him that he had set the Messiah to music before he left England—thus inferentially affording additional evidence that it had not been performed there. Moreover, the advertisements call it Handel's new oratorio, and boast that it was composed expressly for the charitable purpose to which the proceeds of its first performance were consecrated. This is confirmed by reference to the minutes of one at least of these institutions, in which it appears that Handel was in correspondence with them before he had completed his composition.

The people of Dublin are passionately fond of music, and charitable musical societies form a peculiar and interesting feature of its society during the last century. These were academies or clubs, each of which was attached in the way of patronage to some particular charity, to which its revenues were consecrated. Whitelaw, in his History of Dublin (1758), mentions a very aristocratic musical academy, which held its meetings in the Fishamble Street Hall, under the presidency of the Earl of Mornington—the Duke of Wellington's father. His lordship was himself the leader of the band; among the violoncellos were Lord Bellamont, Sir John Dillon, and Dean Burke; among the flutes, Lord Lucan; at the harpsichord, Lady Freke; and so on. Their meetings, we are told, were private, except once a year, when they performed in public for a charitable purpose, and admitted all who chose to buy tickets. It does not appear, however, that this academy was identical with the association that built the hall, and whose concerts seem to have been much more frequent, as well as its benevolent designs more extensive. It was called, par eminence, The Charitable Musical Society; the others having distinctive designations besides. The objects of its benevolence were the prisoners of the Marshalseas, who were in circumstances similar to those which, many years afterwards, elicited the benevolent labours of John Howard: confined often for trifling debts, pining in hopeless misery, and without food, save that received from the casual hand of charity. This society made a daily distribution of bread among some of these, while others were released through their humane exertions. On the 17th of March 1741, they report, that 'the Committee of the Charitable Musical Society appointed for this year to visit the Marshalseas in this city, and release the prisoners confined therein for debt, have already released 188 miserable persons of both sexes. They offered a reasonable composition to the creditors, and many of the creditors being in circumstances almost equally miserable with their debtors, due regard was paid by the committee to this circumstance.' Their funds must have improved considerably after the erection of their Music Hall, which seems to have been the largest room of the kind in Dublin, and in frequent requisition for public concerts, balls, and other reunions where it was desirable to assemble a numerous company, or employ a large orchestra. The hire of the hall on such occasions would form a handsome addition to the proceeds of their own concerts.

It was to these funds that the proceeds of the first performance of the Messiah were devoted, in connection with those of Mercer's Hospital, an old and still eminent school of surgery—and the Royal Infirmary, which still exists in Jervis Street as a place for the immediate reception of persons meeting with sudden accidents. The performance was duly advertised in Faulkner's Journal, with the additional announcement, that 'many ladies and gentlemen who are well-wishers to this noble and grand charity, for which this oratorio was composed, request it as a favour that the ladies who honour this performance with their presence would be pleased to come without hoops, as it will greatly increase the charity by making room for more company.' In another advertisement it is added, that 'the gentlemen are desired to come without their swords.'

On the ensuing Saturday, the following account was given of this memorable festival: 'On Tuesday last (April 13, 1742), Mr Handel's sacred grand oratorio, the Messiah, was performed in the New Musick Hall in Fishamble Street; the best judges allowed it to be the most finished piece of musick. Words are wanting to express the exquisite delight it afforded to the admiring, crowded audience. The sublime, the grand, and the tender, adapted to the most elevated, majestick, and moving words, conspired to transport and charm the ravished heart and ear. It is but just to Mr Handel, that the world should know he generously gave the money arising from this grand performance to be equally shared by the Society for Relieving Prisoners, the Charitable Infirmary, and Mercer's Hospital, for which they will ever gratefully remember his name; and that the gentlemen of the two choirs, Mr Dubourg, Mrs Avolio, and Mrs Cibber, who all performed their parts to admiration, acted also on the same disinterested principle, satisfied with the deserved applause of the publick, and the conscious pleasure of promoting such useful and extensive charity. There were above 700 people in the room, and the sum collected for that noble and pious charity amounted to about L.400, out of which L.127 goes to each of the three great and pious charities.'

Handel remained five months longer in the Irish metropolis, during which period it is recorded that 'he diverted the thoughts of the people from every other pursuit.' On his return to London in August 1742, he was warmly received by his former friends; his enemies, too, were greatly conciliated. His having relinquished all concern with operatic affairs, and opened for himself a new and undisputed sphere, removed the old grounds of hostility; while the enthusiastic reception which he had met in Dublin, had served as an effectual reproach to those whose malignity had forced him to seek for justice there. Notwithstanding some difficulties at the outset of his new career at home, he lived to realise an income of above L.2000 a year, and never found it necessary or convenient to revisit Ireland; but the custom of performing his oratorios and cantatas for the benefit of medical charities was maintained for many years; and it is believed that the works of no other composer have so largely contributed to the relief of human suffering.

ROYAL GARDENING

Gardening has frequently been one of the most exhilarating recreations of royalty. When Lysander, the Lacedemonian general, brought magnificent presents to Cyrus, the younger son of Darius, who piqued himself more on his integrity and politeness than on his rank and birth, the prince conducted his illustrious guest through his gardens, and pointed out to him their varied beauties. Lysander, struck with so fine a prospect, praised the manner in which the grounds were laid out, the neatness of the walks, the abundance of fruits planted with an art which knew how to combine the useful with the agreeable; the beauty of the parterres, and the glowing variety of flowers exhaling odours universally throughout the delightful scene. 'Everything charms and transports me in this place,' said Lysander to Cyrus; 'but what strikes me most is the exquisite taste and elegant industry of the person who drew the plan of these gardens, and gave it the fine order, wonderful disposition, and happiness of arrangement which I cannot sufficiently admire.' Cyrus replied: 'It was I that drew the plan, and entirely marked it out; and many of the trees which you see were planted by my own hands.' 'What!' exclaimed Lysander with surprise, and viewing Cyrus from head to foot—'is it possible, that with those purple robes and splendid vestments, those strings of jewels and bracelets of gold, those buskins so richly embroidered; is it possible that you could play the gardener, and employ your royal hands in planting trees?' 'Does that surprise you?' said Cyrus. 'I assure you, that when my health permits, I never sit down to table without having fatigued myself, either in military exercise, rural labour, or some other toilsome employment, to which I apply myself with pleasure.' Lysander, still more amazed, pressed Cyrus by the hand, and said: 'You are truly happy, and deserve your high fortune, since you unite it with virtue.'

UNDER THE PALMS

BY CALDER CAMPBELL

Under the palm-trees on India's shore
Ne'er shall I wander at morning or eve;
Hearts there have withered, but still in the core
Of mine springs the memory of feelings that give
Green thoughts in sunshine and bright hopes in gloom;
Friendship, which love's loud emotions becalms:
Oh, happy was I, in those bowers of perfume,
Under the palms!

Go forth, little children; the wood's insect-hum
Invites ye; expand there, like buds in the sun;
Leave schools and their studies for days that will come,
And let thy first lessons from nature be won!
Teachings hath nature most sage and most sweet—
The music that swells in the tree-linnet's psalms;
So taught, my young heart learned to prize that retreat
Under the palms!

The odour of jasmines afloat on the breeze,
That woke in the dawning the birds on each bough;
The frolicsome squirrels, that scampered at case
'Mid lithe leaves and soft moss that smiled down below:
Heaps piled up of mangoes, all fragrant and rich;
Guavas pink-cored, such a wealth of sweet alms
Presented by bright maids, whose sweet songs bewitch
Under the palms!

Pale, yellow bananas, with satiny pulp
That tastes like some dainty of sugar and cream;
Blithe-kernelled pomegranates, just gathered to help
A feast fit to serve in the bowers of a dream!
Milk, foaming and snowy; rice, swelling and sweet;
Iced sherbet that cools, and spiced ginger that warms:
Oh, simple our banquet in that dear retreat
Under the palms!

A tinkling of lutes and a toning of voices—
Of young maiden voices just fresh from the bath;
A sprinkling of rosewater cool, that rejoices
The scented grass screening our bower from the path;
Trim baskets of melons, new gathered, beside
Fair bunches of blossoms that heal all sick qualms;
And books, when to reading our fancies subside,
Under the palms!

Or silence at eve when the sun hath gone down,
Or the sound of one cithern makes melody near;
While a beautiful boy, that hath ne'er known a frown,
Softly murmurs a tale of the East in the ear;
Of peris, that cluster round flower-stalks like fruit—
Of genii, that breathe amid blossoms and balms—
Of gazelle-eyed houris, that play on sweet lutes
Under the palms!

Of roses, that nightly unfold their flower-leaves
To welcome the lays of the loved nightingale—
Of spirits, that home in an Eden of Eves
Where the sun never scorches, the strength never fails!
So singing, so playing, Sleep steals on us all,
Enclasping us gently within her soft arms;—
Let me dream that the moonbeams still over me fall
Under the palms!

notes

1

An Account of the Visit of Handel to Dublin. By Horatio Townsend, Esq. London: Orr & Co.