"Seeing that the ruse worked and the coast was clear, they left the shelter or shanty together and the élite society of oilskin and company whom nothing short of an earthquake would move out of their dolce far niente. Stephen, who confessed to still feeling poorly and fagged out, paused at the, for a moment, the door.
— One thing I never understood, he said to be original on the spur of the moment. Why they put tables upside down at night, I mean chairs upside down, on the tables in cafes." (U16.1703)
From the Merriam Webster Dictionary:
Dolce far niente = pleasant relaxation in carefree idleness
Italian, literally, sweet doing nothing
First Known Use: 1814
"To which impromptu the neverfailing Bloom replied without a moment's hesitation, saying straight off:
— To sweep the floor in the morning.
So saying he skipped around, nimbly considering, frankly at the same time apologetic to get on his companion's right, a habit of his, by the bye, his right side being, in classical idiom, his tender Achilles. The night air was certainly now a treat to breathe though Stephen was a bit weak on his pins." (U16.1711)
"and chiefly the belauded peasant class, probably the selfsame evicted tenants he had put in their holdings. So they turned on to chatting about music, a form of art for which Bloom, as a pure amateur, possessed the greatest love, as they made tracks arm in arm across Beresford place.” (U16.1730)
"Wagnerian music, though confessedly grand in its way, was a bit too heavy for Bloom and hard to follow at the first go-off" (U16.1735)
"but the music of Mercadante's Huguenots, Meyerbeer's Seven Last Words on the Cross, and Mozart's Twelfth Mass, he simply revelled in, the Gloria in that being to his mind the acme of first class music as such, literally knocking everything else into a cocked hat." (U16.1737)
"He infinitely preferred the sacred music of the catholic church to anything the opposite shop could offer in that line such as those Moody and Sankey hymns or Bid me to live and I will live thy protestant to be. He also yielded to none in his admiration of Rossini's Stabat Mater, a work simply abounding in immortal numbers, in which his wife," (U16.1740)
Dwight Lyman Moody (1837 - 1899) was an American evangelist born in Northfield, MA. At 17, he moved to Boston and helped his uncle run a shoe store. He attended Mount Vernon Congregational Church, initially to please his uncle, but soon converted to Christianity. Moody started in Chicago the North Market Hall Sunday School which he built up to a membership of 1,500 (the largest of his time). During the Civil War, he was involved with the U.S. Christian Commission of the YMCA, and ministered at battlefields. It was on a trip to England in 1873 that he became famous as an evangelist preacher. Moody preached a Calvinistic creed which he accepted with all his heart, and was master of an effective style; his sermons abounded in personal allusions, shrewd remarks and home thrusts. He had no polish, little formal education, but he knew well the Bible and accepted it literally; he treated Bible characters very familiarly and enlivened his sermons by imaginary conversations with and between them. His preaching attracted gradually larger crowds, up to 30,000 people.
Moody led evangelical campains in England, Scotland, and later throughout the USA, Canada and Mexico. Starting in 1873, Moody was accompanied by Ira D. Sankey, initially as a solo singer, and later as music and choir director as well.
Ira D. Sankey (1840 - 1908) was an American gospel singer and composer born in Edinburg, PA. At age 16, he was converted at a revival meeting at the King's Chapel Church near his home. He was a soldier for the Union during the Civil War, then took a job with the Internal Revenue Service. He was involved with the U.S. Christian Commission of the YMCA, and president of their Newcastle branch. He became well known as a gospel singer, with a melodious baritone voice of rich resonant quality, and was invited to sing at conventions, conferences, and political gatherings. Sankey met Dwight L. Moody in 1870 at a YMCA convention in Indianapolis, IN and was invited to join him on his evangelical campaigns; he soon accepted, resigning from his government job. Sankey accompanied Moody on the 1873-75 revival in the British Isles, and later campaigns in the USA and throughout the world.
Moody would arouse the audience with his preaching, then Sankey would sing, usually accompanied by organ music; in later years, he also led a choir into song. Sankey wrote the music for numerous hymns, many still sung today (The Ninety and Nine, A Shelter in the Time of Storm, Faith Is the Victory, Hiding in Thee, I Am Praying for You, Trusting Jesus, Under His Wings, When the Mists Have Rolled Away) and overall compiled some 1,200 hymns. The first hymn-book bearing the names of Sankey and Moody was published in England in 1873 as 'Sacred Songs and Solos.' A 'Gospel Hymns' series followed, with numbers 1-6 being published 1875 - 1891. By 1900, more than a million dollars had been paid to Sankey and Moody in royalties for the hymns. Sankey is considered the man who ushered in the gospel song era.
"Madam Marion Tweedy, made a hit, a veritable sensation, he might safely say greatly adding to her other laurels and putting the others totally in the shade in the jesuit fathers' church in Upper Gardiner street, the sacred edifice being thronged to the doors to hear her with virtuosos, or virtuosi rather. There was the unanimous opinion that there was none to come up to her and suffice it to say in a place of worship for music of a sacred character there was a generally voiced desire for an encore" (U16. 1745).
"On the whole though favouring preferably light opera of the Don Giovanni description and Martha, a gem in its line, he had a penchant, though with only a surface knowledge, for the severe classical school such as Mendelssohn." (U16.1752)
"And talking of that, taking it for granted he knew all about the old favourites, he mentioned par excellence Lionel's air in Martha, M'appari, which, curiously enough, he had heard or overheard, to be more accurate, on yesterday, a privilege he keenly appreciated, from the lips of Stephen's respected father, sung to perfection, a study of the number, in fact, which made all the others take a back seat." (U176.1755)
"Stephen, in reply to a politely put query, said he didn't but launched out into praises of Shakespeare's songs, at least of in or about that period, the lutenist Dowland who lived in Fetter Lane near Gerard the herbalist, who annos ludendo hausi, Doulandus, an instrument he was contemplating purchasing from Mr Arnold Dolmetsch, whom Bloom did not quite recall, though the name certainly sounded familiar, for sixtyfive guineas and Farnaby and son with their dux and comes conceits and Byrd (William), who played the virginals, he said, in the Queen's Chapel or anywhere else he found them and one Tomkins who made toys or airs and John Bull." (U16.1760)
"On the roadway which they were approaching whilst still speaking beyond the swingchains, a horse, dragging a sweeper, paced on the paven ground, brushing a long swathe of mire up so that with the noise Bloom was not perfectly certain whether he had caught aright the allusion to sixtyfive guineas and John Bull. He inquired if it was John Bull the political celebrity of that ilk, as it struck him, the two identical names, as a striking coincidence." (U16.1770)
"By the chains the horse slowly swerved to turn, which perceiving, Bloom, who was keeping a sharp lookout as usual, plucked the other's sleeve gently, jocosely remarking:
- Our lives are in peril tonight. Beware of the steamroller.
They thereupon stopped. Bloom looked at the head of a horse not worth anything like sixtyfive guineas, suddenly in evidence in the dark quite near, so that it seemed new, a different grouping of bones and even flesh, because palpably it was a fourwalker, a hipshaker, a blackbuttocker, a taildangler, a headhanger, putting his hind foot foremost the while the lord of his creation sat on the perch, busy with his thoughts." (U16.1777)
"But such a good poor brute, he was sorry he hadn't a lump of sugar but, as he wisely reflected, you could scarcely be prepared for every emergency that might crop up. He was just a big foolish nervous noodly kind of a horse, without a second care in the world. But even a dog, he reflected, take that mongrel in Barney Kiernan's, of the same size, would be a holy horror to face." (U16.1786)
"But it was no animal's fault in particular if he was built that way like the camel, ship of the desert, distilling grapes into potheen in his hump. Nine tenths of them all could be caged or trained, nothing beyond the art of man barring the bees." (U16.1791)