HANDEL IN DUBLIN.
If biographers will occasionally make assertions at random, and pass lightly over important events, because their records are not at hand, while they give ample development to others, just because the materials for doing so are more abundant, it is well that there is to be found here and there an industrious littérateur, who will leave no leaf unturned, and no corner unexplored, if he suspects that any error has been committed, or any passage of interest slighted, in the memoirs of a favourite author.
Mr Mainwaring, the earliest biographer of Handel, and, on his authority, a host of subsequent writers, took upon them to assert, without any apparent foundation, that the oratorio of the Messiah was performed in London in the year 1741, previously to Handel's visit to Ireland; but that it met with a cold reception, and this was one cause of his leaving England. Dr Burney, when composing his History of Music, examined all the London newspapers where public amusements were advertised during 1741 and for several previous years, but found no mention whatever of this oratorio. He remembered, too, being a school-boy at Chester when Handel spent a week there, waiting for fair winds to carry him across the Channel, and taking advantage of the delay 'to prove some books that had been hastily transcribed, by trying the choruses which he intended to perform in Ireland.' An amateur band was mustered for him, and the manuscript choruses thus verified were those of the Messiah. In the absence, therefore, of stronger evidence to the contrary, Dr Burney believed that Dublin had the honour of its first performance. An Irish barrister has now proved this, we think, beyond dispute.[1] His evidence has been drawn from the newspaper tomes of 1741, preserved in the public libraries of Dublin, confirmed by the records of the cathedrals and some of the charitable institutions, and yet more emphatically from some original letters of this date. He has thus succeeded in doing 'justice to Ireland,' by securing for it, in all time to come, the distinguished place which it is entitled to occupy in the history of this great man. Perhaps we should rather say, he has done justice to England, by clearing it of the imputation of having 'coldly received' a musical production to which immortal fame has since been decreed. While the musical world will thank our author for several new facts particularly interesting to them, the main attraction for general readers will probably be found in the glimpses which this volume affords of a beau monde which has passed away.
In 1720, a royal academy for the promotion of Italian operas was founded in London by some of the nobility and gentry under royal auspices. Handel, Bononcini, and Areosti, were engaged as a triumvirate of composers; and to Handel was committed the charge of engaging the singers. But the rivalry between him and Bononcini rose to strife; the aristocratic patrons took nearly equal sides; and a furious controversy on their respective merits was carried on for years. Hence the epigram of Dean Swift—
Some say that Signor Bononcini,
Compared to Handel, is a ninny;
Others aver that to him Handel
Is scarcely fit to hold the candle.
Strange that such difference should be
'Twixt tweedledum and tweedledee!
When the withdrawal of both his rivals left Handel in sole possession of the field, he quarrelled with some of his principal performers, and thereupon ensued new scenes of discord. Ladies of the highest rank entered with enthusiasm into the strife; and while some flourished their fans aloft on the side of Faustina, whom Handel had introduced in order to supersede Cuzzoni, another party, headed by the Countess of Pembroke, espoused the cause of the depressed songstress, and made her take an oath on the Holy Gospels, that she would never submit to accept a lower salary than her rival. The humorous poets of the day took up the theme, Pope introduced it into his Dunciad, and Arbuthnot published two witty brochures, entitled Harmony in an Uproar, and The Devil to Pay at St James's. The result of these and other contests, in which Handel gradually lost ground, was the establishment of a rival Opera at Lincoln's Inn Fields. It was patronised by the Prince of Wales and most of the nobles; and not even the presence of the king and queen, who continued the steady friends of Handel, could attract for him an audience at the Haymarket. It became quite fashionable to decry his compositions as beneath the notice of musical connoisseurs. Politics, it is said, came to mingle in the controversy; and those who held by the king's Opera were as certainly Tories, as those who went to the nobility's were Whigs. Of course all this was very foolish, and very wrong; yet in our days of stately conventionality, when perfect impassibility is deemed the highest style of breeding, there is something refreshing in reading of such animated scenes in high life. The crowning act of hostility to Handel, was when the Earl of Middlesex himself assumed the profession of manager of Italian operas, and engaged the king's theatre, with a new composer, and a new company.
Handel had, for some time, been meditating a withdrawal from the Opera, in order to devote himself exclusively to the composition of sacred music, of which he had already produced several fine specimens. He was wont to say, that this was an occupation 'better suited to the circumstances of a man advancing in years, than that of adapting music to such vain and trivial words as the musical drama generally consists of.' The truth was, he had discovered his forte. But the tide of fashionable feeling ran so strongly against him, that even the performance of the oratorios of Saul and Israel in Egypt scarcely paid expenses. Unwilling to submit his forthcoming Messiah also to the caprices of fashion, and the malignity of party, he wisely embraced an opportunity which was opened to him of bringing out this great work in Dublin, under singularly favourable auspices, and crossed the Channel in November 1741.
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.