The Minor Canon is a warm admirer of Jasper's musical talents, and on one occasion in particular is much impressed with his singing.

I must thank you, Jasper, for the pleasure with which I have heard you to-day. Beautiful! Delightful!

And thus we are introduced to the other musician, whose position at Cloisterham Cathedral is almost as much a mystery as that of Edwin Drood himself. He was the lay precentor or lay clerk, and he was also a good choirmaster. It is unnecessary to criticize or examine too closely the exact position that Jasper held. In answer to a question on this subject, Mr. B. Luard-Selby, the present organist of Rochester Cathedral, writes thus:

We have never had in the choir of Rochester Cathedral such a musical functionary as Dickens describes in The Mystery of Edwin Drood. The only person approaching Jasper in the choir is one of the lay clerks who looks after the music, but who of course has nothing to do with setting the music for the month. I don't think Dickens had much idea of church order or of cathedral worship, though he may have gone over the cathedral with a verger on occasions. The music of a cathedral is always in the hands of the precentor, assisted by the organist.

It is Edwin Drood himself who says that Jasper was lay precentor or lay clerk at the cathedral. He had a great reputation as a choir-trainer and teacher of music, but he is already weary of his position and takes little notice of words of eulogy. He was well acquainted with the old melodies, and on one occasion we find him sitting at the piano singing brave songs to Mr. Sapsea.

No kickshaw ditties, favourites with national enemies, but ... genuine George the Third home brewed, exhorting him (as 'my brave boys') to reduce to a smashed condition all other islands but this island, and all continents, peninsulas, isthmuses, promontories, and other geographical forms of land soever, besides sweeping the sea in all directions. In short he rendered it pretty clear that Providence made a distinct mistake in originating so small a nation of hearts of oak, and so many other verminous peoples.

We have a different picture of him on another occasion, as he sits 'chanting choir music in a low and beautiful voice, for two or three hours'—a somewhat unusual exercise even for the most enthusiastic choirmaster. But this was before the strange journey with Durdles, and we can only guess at the weird thoughts which were passing through the musician's mind as he sat in his lonely room.

We have only a brief reference to the choir of Cloisterham Cathedral. Towards the end we read of them 'struggling into their nightgowns' before the service, while they subsequently are 'as much in a hurry to get their bedgowns off as they were but now to get them on'—and these were almost the last words that came from the Master's pen.

Anthems

There is an interesting reference to anthems in connexion with the Foundling Hospital,[15] an institution which Dickens mentions several times. Mr. Wilding (N.T.), after he had been pumped on by his lawyer in order to clear his head, names the composers of the anthems he had been accustomed to sing at the Foundling.

Handel, Mozart, Haydn, Kent, Purcell, Doctor Arne, Greene, Mendelssohn. I know the choruses to those anthems by heart. Foundling Chapel collection.

Mr. Wilding had a scheme of forming his household retainers and dependents into a singing-class in the warehouse, and a choir in the neighbouring church. Only one member, Joey Ladle, refused to join, for fear he should 'muddle the 'armony,' and his remark that

Handel must have been down in some of them foreign cellars pretty much for to go and say the same thing so many times over

is certainly not lacking in originality.

Hymns and Hymn-Tunes

There are many purists in church music who object to adaptations of any kind, and we do not know what their feelings are on reading the account of the meeting of the Brick Lane Branch of the United Grand Junction Ebenezer Temperance Association. In order to vary the proceedings Mr. Anthony Humm announced that

Brother Mordlin had adapted the beautiful words of 'Who hasn't heard of a Jolly Young Waterman' to the tune of the Old Hundredth, which he would request them to join in singing. (Great applause.) And so the song commenced, the chairman giving out two lines at a time, in proper orthodox fashion.

It was this air that Mr. Jerry's dog, as already related, ground out of the barrel-organ, but, besides this particular melody, we do not find that Dickens mentions any other hymn-tune. The hymns referred to are rather more in number. In The Wreck of the Golden Mary Mrs. Atherfield sang Little Lucy to sleep with the Evening Hymn. There is a veiled reference to Ken's Morning Hymn in O.C.S., where Sampson Brass says:

'Here we are, Mr. Richard, rising with the sun to run our little course—our course of duty, sir.'

Dr. Watts makes several appearances, Dickens made the acquaintance of this noted hymnist in early youth (see p. 7), and makes good use of his knowledge. In The Cricket on the Hearth Mrs. Peerybingle asks John if he ever learnt 'How doth the little' when he went to school. 'Not to quite know it,' John returned. 'I was very near it once.' Another of the Doctor's hymns is suggested by the behaviour of the Young Tetterbys (H.M.).

The contentions between the Tetterbys' children for the milk and water jug, common to all, which stood upon the table, presented so lamentable an instance of angry passions risen very high indeed, that it was an outrage on the memory of Dr. Watts.

The pages of history abound with instances of misguided amateurs who have amended the hymns (and tunes) of others in order to bring them into their way of thinking, and a prominent place in their ranks must be assigned to Miss Monflathers (O.C.S.), who managed to parody the good Doctor's meaning to an alarming extent and to insist that

In books, or work or healthful play[16]

is only applicable to genteel children, while all poor people's children, such as Little Nell, should spend their time.

In work, work, work. In work alway, Let my first years be passed, That I may give for ev'ry day Some good account at last,

which is far from the good Doctor's meaning.

Dr. Strong, David Copperfield's second schoolmaster, was fond of quoting this great authority on mischief, but Mr. Wickfield suggests that Dr. Watts, had he known mankind well, would also have written 'Satan finds some mischief still for busy hands to do.'

Some years ago a question was raised in Notes and Queries as to the identity of the 'No. 4 Collection' of hymns which appeared to afford consolation to Job Trotter. No answer was vouchsafed, the fact being that the title is a pure invention, and no such collection has ever existed. It is scarcely necessary to add that history is silent as to the identity of the hymn-book which Uriah Heep was reading when David Copperfield and others visited him in prison.

We are indebted to Dickens for the introduction to the literary world of Adelaide Procter, many of whose sacred verses have found their way into our hymnals. The novelist wrote an introduction to her Legends and Lyrics, in which he tells the story of how, as editor of Household Words, he accepted verses sent him from time to time by a Miss Mary Berwick, and only discovered, some months later, that his contributor was the daughter of his friend Procter, who was known under the nom de plume of Barry Cornwall.

There seems to be some difficulty in regard to the authorship of the hymn

Hear my prayer, O Heavenly Father, Ere I lay me down to sleep; Bid Thy angels, pure and holy, Round my bed their vigil keep.

It has already been pointed out (see Choir, February, 1912) that this hymn appeared in the Christmas number of Household Words for 1856, in a story entitled The Wreck of the Golden Mary. The chief authorities on the works of Dickens claim it as his composition, and include it in his collected works. On the other hand, Miller, in his Our Hymns (1866), states that Miss Harriet Parr informed him that the hymn, and the story of Poor Dick, in which it occurs, were both her own. We may add that when Dr. Allon applied for permission to include it in his new hymn-book Dickens referred him to the authoress.

Dr. Julian takes this as authoritative, and has no hesitation in ascribing the hymn to Miss Parr. On the other hand, Forster records in his Life of Dickens that a clergyman, the Rev. R.H. Davies, had been struck by this hymn when it appeared in Household Words, and wrote to thank him for it. 'I beg to thank you,' Dickens answered (Christmas Eve, 1856), 'for your very acceptable letter, not the less because I am myself the writer you refer to.' Here Dickens seems to claim the authorship, but it is possible he was referring to something else in the magazine when he wrote these words, and not to the hymn.

[14] Dickens frequently uses the word in this sense. Tom Pinch says, 'I shall punish the Boar's Head tremendously.' It is also interesting to note that Dickens uses the phrase 'I don't think' in its modern slang meaning on at least two occasions. Tom Pinch remarks 'I'm a nice man, I don't think, as John used to say' (M.C. 6), and Sam Weller (P.P. 38) says to Mr. Winkle 'you're a amiably-disposed young man, sir, I don't think.' Mark Tapley uses the expression 'a pious fraud' (M.C. 13).

[15] 'Pet' (L.D. 2) was a frequent visitor to the Hospital.

[16] From the poem on Industry.



CHAPTER VI

SONGS AND SOME SINGERS

The numerous songs and vocal works referred to by Dickens in his novels and other writings furnish perhaps the most interesting, certainly the most instructive, branch of this subject. His knowledge of song and ballad literature was extraordinary, and he did not fail to make good use of it. Not only are the quotations always well chosen and to the point, but the use of them has greatly added to the interest of such characters as Swiveller, Micawber, Cuttle, and many others, all of whom are of a very musical turn of mind. These songs may be conveniently divided into three classes, the first containing the national and popular airs of the eighteenth century, of which 'Rule Britannia' and 'Sally in our Alley' are notable examples. Many of these are referred to in the following pages, while a full list will be found on pp. 135-163.

I.—National Songs

There are numerous references to 'Rule Britannia.' Besides those mentioned elsewhere we have the picture of little David Copperfield in his dismal home.

What evenings when the candles came, and I was expected to employ myself, but not daring to read an entertaining book, pored over some hard-headed, harder-hearted treatise on arithmetic; when the tables of weights and measures set themselves to tunes as 'Rule Britannia,' or 'Away with Melancholy'!

No wonder he finally went to sleep over them!

In Dombey and Son Old Sol has a wonderful story of the Charming Sally being wrecked in the Baltic, while the crew sang 'Rule Britannia' as the ship went down, 'ending with one awful scream in chorus.' Walter gives the date of the tragedy as 1749. (The song was written in 1740.)

Captain Cuttle had a theory that 'Rule Britannia,' 'which the garden angels sang about so many times over,' embodied the outlines of the British Constitution. It is perhaps unnecessary to explain that the Captain's 'garden angels' appear in the song as 'guardian angels.'

Mark Tapley, when in America, entertained a grey-haired black man by whistling this tune with all his might and main. The entry of Martin Chuzzlewit caused him to stop the tune

at that point where Britons generally are supposed to declare (when it is whistled) that they never, never, never—

In the article on 'Wapping Workhouse' (U.T.) Dickens introduces the first verse of the song in criticizing the workhouse system and its treatment of old people, and in the American Notes he tells us that he left Canada with 'Rule Britannia' sounding in his ears.

'British Grenadiers,' said Mr. Bucket to Mr. Bagnet, 'there's a tune to warm an Englishman up! Could you give us "British Grenadiers," my fine fellow?' And the 'fine fellow,' who was none other than Bagnet junior (also known as 'Woolwich'), promptly

fetches his fife and performs the stirring melody, during which performance Mr. Bucket, much enlivened, beats time, and never fails to come in sharp with the burden 'Brit Ish Gra-a-anadeers.'

Our national anthem is frequently referred to. In the description of the public dinner (S.B.S. 19)—

'God Save the Queen' is sung by the professional gentlemen, the unprofessional gentlemen joining in the chorus, and giving the national anthem an effect which the newspapers, with great justice, describe as 'perfectly electrical.'

On another occasion we are told the company, sang the national anthem with national independence, each one singing it according to his own ideas of time and tune. This is the usual way of singing it at the present day.

In addition to those above mentioned we find references to 'The Marseillaise' and 'Ca ira,' both of which Dickens says he heard in Paris. In Little Dorrit Mr. Meagles says:

As to Marseilles, we know what Marseilles is. It sent the most insurrectionary tune into the world that was ever composed.

Without disputing the decided opinion expressed by the speaker, there is no doubt that some would give the palm to 'Ca ira,' which the novelist refers to in one of his letters. The words of this song were adapted in 1790 to the tune of 'Carillon National.' This was a favourite air of Marie Antoinette, and she frequently played it on the harpsichord. After her downfall she heard it as a cry of hatred against herself—it followed her from Versailles to the capital, and she would hear it from her prison and even when going to her death.

When Martin Chuzzlewit and Mark Tapley were on their way to America, one of their fellow travellers was

an English gentleman who was strongly suspected of having run away from a bank, with something in his possession belonging to its strong-box besides the key [and who] grew eloquent upon the subject of the rights of man, and hummed the Marseillaise Hymn constantly.

In an article on this tune in the Choir (Nov., 1911) it is stated that it was composed in 1792 at Strasburg, but received its name from the fact that a band of soldiers going from Marseilles to Paris made the new melody their marching tune. A casual note about it appears to be the only musical reference in A Tale of Two Cities.

From America we have 'Hail Columbia' and 'Yankee Doodle.' In Martin Chuzzlewit we meet the musical coach-driver who played snatches of tunes on the key bugle. A friend of his went to America, and wrote home saying he was always singing 'Ale Columbia.' In his American Notes Dickens tells about a Cleveland newspaper which announced that America had 'whipped England twice, and that soon they would sing "Yankee Doodle" in Hyde Park and "Hail Columbia" in the scarlet courts of Westminster.'

II.—Songs from 1780-1840

We then come to a group of songs dating, roughly, from 1780. This includes several popular sea songs by Charles Dibdin and others, some ballad opera airs, the Irish Melodies and other songs by Thomas Moore, and a few sentimental ditties. Following these we have the songs of the early Victorian period, consisting of more sentimental ditties of a somewhat feebler type, with a few comic and nigger minstrel songs. The task of identifying the numerous songs referred to has been interesting, but by no means easy. No one who has not had occasion to refer to them can have any idea of the hundreds, nay, of the thousands, of song-books that were turned out from the various presses under an infinitude of titles during the eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries. There is nothing like them at the present day, and the reasons for their publication have long ceased to exist. It should be explained that the great majority of these books contained the words only, very few of them being furnished with the musical notes. Dickens has made use of considerably over a hundred different songs. In some cases the references are somewhat obscure, but their elucidation is necessary to a proper understanding of the text. An example of this occurs in Chapter IX of Martin Chuzzlewit, where we are told the history of the various names given to the young red-haired boy at Mrs. Todgers' commercial boarding-house. When the Pecksniffs visited the house

he was generally known among the gentlemen as Bailey Junior, a name bestowed upon him in contradistinction perhaps to Old Bailey, and possibly as involving the recollection of an unfortunate lady of the same name, who perished by her own hand early in life and has been immortalized in a ballad.

The song referred to here is 'Unfortunate Miss Bailey,' by George Colman, and sung by Mr. Mathews in the comic opera of Love Laughs at Locksmiths. It tells the story of a maid who hung herself, while her persecutor took to drinking ratafia.

Dickens often refers to these old song-books, either under real or imaginary names. Captain Cuttle gives 'Stanfell's Budget' as the authority for one of his songs, and this was probably the song-book that formed one of the ornaments which he placed in the room he was preparing for Florence Dombey. Other common titles are the 'Prentice's Warbler,' which Simon Tappertit used, 'Fairburn's Comic Songster,' and the 'Little Warbler,' which is mentioned two or three times. Of the songs belonging to this second period, some are embedded in ballad operas and plays, popular enough in their day, but long since forgotten. An example is Mr. Jingle's quotation when he tells the blushing Rachel that he is going

In hurry, post haste for a licence, In hurry, ding dong I come back,

though he omitted the last two lines:

For that you shan't need bid me twice hence, I'll be here and there in a crack.

This verse is sung by Lord Grizzle in Fielding's Tom Thumb, as arranged by Kane O'Hara.

Paul and Virginia is mentioned by Mrs. Flora Finching (L.D.) as being one of the things that ought to have been returned to Arthur Clennam when their engagement was broken off. This was a ballad opera by Reeve and Mazzinghi, and the opening number is the popular duet 'See from ocean rising,' concerning which there is a humorous passage in 'The Steam Excursion' (S.B.), where it is sung by one of the Miss Tauntons and Captain Helves. The last-named, 'after a great deal of preparatory crowing and humming,' began

in that grunting tone in which a man gets down, heaven knows where, without the remotest chance of ever getting up again. This in private circles is frequently designated a 'bass voice.'

[Figure 1]

See from ocean rising Bright flame, the orb of day; From yon grove the varied song Shall slumber from Virginia chase, chase away, Slumber from Virginia chase, chase away.

Dickens is not quite correct in this description, as the part of Paul was created by Incledon, the celebrated tenor, but there are still to be found basses who insist on singing tenor when they think that part wants their assistance.

III.—Contemporary Comic Songs

When Dickens visited Vauxhall (S.B.S. 14) in 1836, he heard a variety entertainment, to which some reference has already been made. Amongst the performers was a comic singer who bore the name of one of the English counties, and who

sang a very good song about the seven ages, the first half hour of which afforded the assembly the purest delight.

The name of this singer was Mr. Bedford, though there was also a Mr. Buckingham in the Vauxhall programmes of those days. There are at least four songs, all of them lengthy, though not to the extent Dickens suggests, which bear on the subject. They are:

1.—'All the World's a Stage,' a popular medley written by Mr. L. Rede, and sung by Mrs. Kelley in the Frolic of the Fairies.

2.—'Paddy McShane's Seven Ages,' sung by Mr. Johnstone at Drury Lane.

3.—'The Seven Ages,' as sung by Mr. Fuller (eight very long verses).

4.—'The Seven Ages of Woman,' as sung by Mr. Harley.

You've heard the seven ages of great Mister Man, And now Mistress Woman's I'll chaunt, if I can.

This was also a very long song, each verse being sung to a different tune.

Some of these songs are found in a scarce book called London Oddities (1822), which also contains 'Time of Day,' probably the comic duet referred to in The Mistaken Milliner (S.B.). This sketch was written in 1835 for Bell's Life in London, the original title being The Vocal Dressmaker, and contains an account of a concert (real or imaginary) at the White Conduit House. This place of entertainment was situated in Penton Street, Islington, near the top of Pentonville Road, and when Dickens wrote his sketch the place had been in existence nearly a hundred years. Early in the nineteenth century it became a place of varied amusements, from balloon ascents to comic songs. Dickens visited the place about 1835. The titles of some of the pieces he mentions as having been sung there are real, while others (such as 'Red Ruffian, retire') appear to be invented.

Of a different kind is the one sung by the giant Pickleson, known in the profession as Rinaldo di Vasco, a character introduced to us by Dr. Marigold.

I gave him sixpence (for he was kept as short as he was long), and he laid it out on two three penn'orths of gin-and-water, which so brisked him up that he sang the favourite comic of 'Shivery Shakey, ain't it cold?'

Perhaps in no direction does the taste of the British public change so rapidly and so completely as in their idea of humour as depicted in the comic song, and it is unlikely that what passed for humour sixty years ago would appeal to an audience of the present day. The song here referred to had a great though brief popularity. This is the first verse:

THE MAN THAT COULDN'T GET WARM.

Words by J. Beuler. Accompaniment by J. Clinton.

All you who're fond in spite of price Of pastry, cream and jellies nice Be cautious how you take an ice Whenever you're overwarm. A merchant who from India came, And Shiverand Shakey was his name, A pastrycook's did once entice To take a cooling, luscious ice, The weather, hot enough to kill, Kept tempting him to eat, until It gave his corpus such a chill He never again felt warm. Shiverand Shakey O, O, O, Criminy Crikey! Isn't it cold, Woo, woo, woo, oo, oo, Behold the man that couldn't get warm.

Some people affect to despise a comic song, but there are instances where a good specimen has helped to make history, or has added a popular phrase to our language. An instance of the latter is MacDermott's 'Jingo' song 'We don't want to fight but by Jingo if we do.' An illustration of the former comes from the coal strike of March, 1912, during which period the price of that commodity only once passed the figure it reached in 1875, as we gather from the old song 'Look at the price of coals.'

We don't know what's to be done, They're forty-two shillings a ton.

There are two interesting references in a song which Mrs. Jarley's poet adapted to the purposes of the Waxwork Exhibition, 'If I'd a donkey as wouldn't go.' The first verse of the song is as follows:

If I'd a donkey wot wouldn't go, D'ye think I'd wollop him? No, no, no; But gentle means I'd try, d'ye see, Because I hate all cruelty. If all had been like me in fact, There'd ha' been no occasion for Martin's Act Dumb animals to prevent getting crackt On the head, for— If I had a donkey wot wouldn't go, I never would wollop him, no, no, no; I'd give him some hay, and cry gee O, And come up Neddy.

The singer then meets 'Bill Burns,' who, 'while crying out his greens,' is ill-treating his donkey. On being interfered with, Bill Burns says,

'You're one of these Mr. Martin chaps.'

Then there was a fight, when the 'New Police' came up and 'hiked' them off before the magistrate. There is a satisfactory ending, and 'Bill got fin'd.' Here is a reminder that we are indebted to Mr. Martin, M.P., for initiating the movement which resulted in the 'Royal Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals' being established in 1824. Two years previously Parliament had passed what is known as Martin's Act (1822), which was the first step taken by this or any other country for the protection of animals. In Scene 7 of Sketches by Boz there is a mention of 'the renowned Mr. Martin, of costermonger notoriety.' The reference to the New Police Act reminds us that the London police force was remodelled by Mr. (afterwards Sir Robert) Peel in 1829. Hence the date of the song will be within a year or two of this.

Mr. Reginald Wilfer (O.M.F.) owed his nickname to the conventional chorus of some of the comic songs of the period. Being a modest man, he felt unable to live up to the grandeur of his Christian name, so he always signed himself 'R. Wilfer.' Hence his neighbours provided him with all sorts of fancy names beginning with R, but his popular name was Rumty, which a 'gentleman of convivial habits connected with the drug market' had bestowed upon him, and which was derived from the burden—

Rumty iddity, row dow dow, Sing toodlely teedlely, bow wow wow.

The third decade of the nineteenth century saw the coming of the Christy Minstrels. One of the earliest of the so-called 'negro' impersonators was T.D. Rice, whose song 'Jim Crow' (A.N.) took England by storm. It is useless to attempt to account for the remarkable popularity of this and many another favourite, but the fact remains that the song sold by thousands. In this case it may have been due to the extraordinary antics of the singer, for the words certainly do not carry weight (see p. 146).

Rice made his first appearance at the Surrey Theatre in 1836, when he played in a sketch entitled Bone Squash Diabolo, in which he took the part of 'Jim Crow.' The song soon went all over England, and 'Jim Crow' hats and pipes were all the rage, while Punch caricatured a statesman who changed his opinions on some question of the day as the political 'Jim Crow.' To this class also belongs the song 'Buffalo Gals' (see p. 10).

Amongst the contents of the shop window at the watering-place referred to in Out of the Season was

every polka with a coloured frontispiece that ever was published; from the original one, where a smooth male or female Pole of high rank are coming at the observer with their arms akimbo, to the 'Ratcatcher's Daughter.'

This last piece is of some slight interest from the fact that certain people have claimed that the hymn-tune 'Belmont' is derived therefrom. We give the first four lines, and leave our readers to draw their own conclusions. It is worth while stating that the first appearance of the hymn-tune took place soon after the song became popular.[17]

[Figure 2]

In Westminster, not long ago, There lived a ratcatcher's daughter; She was not born in Westminster But on t'other side of the water.

Some Singers

In the Pickwick Papers we have at least three original poems. Wardle's carol—

I care not for Spring; on his fickle wing Let the blossoms and buds be borne—

has been set to music, but Dickens always preferred that it should be sung to the tune of 'Old King Cole,' though a little ingenuity is required to make it fit in. The 'wild and beautiful legend,'

Bold Turpin vunce, on Hounslow Heath His bold mare Bess bestrode—er,

with which Sam Weller favoured a small but select company on a memorable occasion appears to have been overlooked by composers until Sir Frederick Bridge set it to excellent music. It will be remembered that Sam intimated that he was not

wery much in the habit o' singin' without the instrument; but anythin' for a quiet life, as the man said wen he took the sitivation at the lighthouse.

Sam was certainly more obliging than another member of the company, the 'mottled-faced' gentleman, who, when asked to sing, sturdily and somewhat offensively declined to do so. We also find references to other crusty individuals who flatly refuse to exercise their talents, as, for instance, after the accident to the coach which was conveying Nicholas Nickleby and Squeers to Yorkshire. In response to the call for a song to pass the time away, some protest they cannot, others wish they could, others can do nothing without the book, while the 'very fastidious lady entirely ignored the invitation to give them some little Italian thing out of the last opera.' A somewhat original plea for refusing to sing when asked is given by the chairman of the musical gathering at the Magpie and Stump (P.P.). When asked why he won't enliven the company he replies, 'I only know one song, and I have sung it already, and it's a fine of glasses round to sing the same song twice in one night.' Doubtless he was deeply thankful to Mr. Pickwick for changing the subject. At another gathering of a similar nature, we are told about a man who knew a song of seven verses, but he couldn't recall them at the moment, so he sang the first verse seven times.

There is no record as to what the comic duets were that Sam Weller and Bob Sawyer sang in the dickey of the coach that was taking the party to Birmingham, and this suggests what a number of singers of all kinds are referred to, though no mention is made of their songs. What was Little Nell's repertoire? It must have been an extensive one according to the man in the boat (O.C.S. 43).

'You've got a very pretty voice' ... said this gentleman ... 'Let me hear a song this minute.'

'I don't think I know one, sir,' returned Nell.

'You know forty-seven songs,' said the man, with a gravity which admitted of no altercation on the subject. 'Forty-seven's your number.'

And so the poor little maid had to keep her rough companions in good humour all through the night.

Then Tiny Tim had a song about a lost child travelling in the snow; the miner sang a Christmas song—'it had been a very old song when he was a boy,' while the man in the lighthouse (C.C.) consoled himself in his solitude with a 'sturdy' ditty. What was John Browdie's north-country song? (N.N.). All we are told is that he took some time to consider the words, in which operation his wife assisted him, and then

began to roar a meek sentiment (supposed to be uttered by a gentle swain fast pining away with love and despair) in a voice of thunder.

The Miss Pecksniffs used to come singing into the room, but their songs are unrecorded, as well as those that Florence Dombey used to sing to Paul, to his great delight. What was the song Miss Mills sang to David Copperfield and Dora

about the slumbering echoes in the cavern of Memory; as if she was a hundred years old.

When we first meet Mark Tapley he is singing merrily, and there are dozens of others who sing either for their own delight or to please others. Even old Fips, of Austin Friars, the dry-as-dust lawyer, sang songs to the delight of the company gathered round the festive board in Martin Chuzzlewit's rooms in the Temple. Truly Dickens must have loved music greatly himself to have distributed such a love of it amongst his characters.

It is not to be expected that Sampson Brass would be musical, and we are not surprised when on an occasion already referred to we find him

humming in a voice that was anything but musical certain vocal snatches which appeared to have reference to the union between Church and State, inasmuch as they were compounded of the Evening Hymn and 'God Save the King.'

Whatever music he had in him must have been of a sub-conscious nature, for shortly afterwards he affirms that

the still small voice is a-singing comic songs within me, and all is happiness and joy.

His sister Sally is not a songster, nor is Quilp, though he quotes 'Sally in our Alley' in reference to the former. All we know about his musical attainments is that he

occasionally entertained himself with a melodious howl, intended for a song but bearing not the faintest resemblance to any scrap of any piece of music, vocal or instrumental, ever invented by man.

Bass singers, and especially the Basso Profundos, will be glad to know that Dickens pays more attention to them than to the other voices, though it must be acknowledged that the references are of a humorous nature. 'Bass!' as the young gentleman in one of the Sketches remarks to his companion about the little man in the chair, 'bass! I believe you. He can go down lower than any man; so low sometimes that you can't hear him.'

And so he does. To hear him growling away, gradually lower and lower down, till he can't get back again, is the most delightful thing in the world.

Of similar calibre is the voice of Captain Helves, already referred to on p. 62.

Topper, who had his eye on one of Scrooge's niece's sisters (C.C.),

could growl away in the bass like a good one, and never swell the large veins in his forehead or get red in the face over it.

Dickens must certainly have had much experience of basses, as he seems to know their habits and eccentricities so thoroughly. In fact it seems to suggest that at some unknown period of his career, hitherto unchronicled by his biographers, he must have been a choirmaster.

He also shows a knowledge of the style of song the basses delighted in

at the harmony meetings in which the collegians at the Marshalsea[18] used to indulge. Occasionally a vocal strain more sonorous than the generality informed the listener that some boastful bass was in blue water or the hunting field, or with the reindeer, or on the mountain, or among the heather, but the Marshal of the Marshalsea knew better, and had got him hard and fast.

We are not told what the duet was that Dickens heard at Vauxhall, but the description is certainly vivid enough:

It was a beautiful duet; first the small gentleman asked a question and then the tall lady answered it; then the small gentleman and the tall lady sang together most melodiously; then the small gentleman went through a little piece of vehemence by himself, and got very tenor indeed, in the excitement of his feelings, to which the tall lady responded in a similar manner; then the small gentleman had a shake or two, after which the tall lady had the same, and then they both merged imperceptibly into the original air.

Our author is quite impartial in his distribution of his voices. In P.P. we read of a boy of fourteen who was a tenor (not the fat boy), while the quality of the female voices is usually left to the imagination.

If Mrs. Plornish (L.D.) is to be believed, her father, Mr. John Edward Nandy, was a remarkable singer. He was

a poor little reedy piping old gentleman, like a worn-out bird, who had been in what he called the music-binding business.

But Mrs. P. was very proud of her father's talents, and in response to her invitation, 'Sing us a song, father,'

Then would he give them Chloe, and if he were in pretty good spirits, Phyllis also—Strephon he had hardly been up to since he went into retirement—and then would Mrs. Plornish declare she did believe there never was such a singer as father, and wipe her eyes.

Old Nandy evidently favoured the eighteenth-century songs, in which the characters here referred to were constantly occurring. At a subsequent period of his history Nandy's vocal efforts surprised even his daughter.

'You never heard father in such voice as he is at present,' said Mrs. Plornish, her own voice quavering, she was so proud and pleased. 'He gave us Strephon last night, to that degree that Plornish gets up and makes him this speech across the table, "John Edward Nandy," says Plornish to father, "I never heard you come the warbles as I have heard you come the warbles this night." Ain't it gratifying, Mr. Pancks, though; really.'

The Mr. Pancks here referred to did not mind taking his part in a bit of singing. He says, in reference to a 'Harmony evening' at the Marshalsea:

'I am spending the evening with the rest of 'em,' said Pancks. 'I've been singing. I've been taking a part in "White Sand and Grey Sand." I don't know anything about it. Never mind. I'll take part in anything, it's all the same, if you're loud enough.'

Here we have a round of considerable antiquity, though the date and author are alike unknown.

[Figure 3] or [Figure 4]

White sand and grey sand: Who'll buy my white sand? Who'll buy my grey sand?

Glee-Singing

A feature of the Harmonic Meetings at the 'Sol' (B.H.) was the performance of Little Swills, who, after entertaining the company with comic songs, took the 'gruff line' in a concerted piece, and adjured 'his friends to listen, listen, listen to the wa-ter-fall!' Little Swills was also an adept at 'patter and gags.' Glee and catch singing was a feature at the Christmas party given by Scrooge's nephew, for 'they were a musical family, and knew what they were about.' This remark can scarcely be applied to the Malderton family, who, assisted by the redoubtable Mr. Horatio Sparkins,

tried over glees and trios without number; they having made the pleasing discovery that their voices harmonized beautifully. To be sure, they all sang the first part; and Horatio, in addition to the slight drawback of having no ear, was perfectly innocent of knowing a note of music; still, they passed the time very agreeably.

Glee-singing seems to have been a feature in the social life of Cloisterham (E.D.).

'We shall miss you, Jasper' (said Mr. Crisparkle), 'at the "Alternate Musical Wednesdays" to-night; but no doubt you are best at home. Good-night, God bless you. "Tell me shepherds te-e-ell me: tell me-e-e have you seen (have you seen, have you seen, have you seen) my-y-y Flo-o-ora-a pass this way!"'

It was a different kind of glee party that left the Blue Boar after the festivities in connexion with Pip's indentures (G.E.).

They were all in excellent spirits on the road home, and sang 'O Lady Fair,' Mr. Wopsle taking the bass, and assisting with a tremendously strong voice (in reply to the inquisitive bore who leads that piece of music in a most impertinent manner by wanting to know all about everybody's private affairs) that he was the man with his white locks flowing, and that he was upon the whole the weakest pilgrim going.

Perhaps the most remarkable glee party that Dickens gives us is the one organized by the male boarders at Mrs. Todgers', with a view to serenading the two Miss Pecksniffs.

It was very affecting, very. Nothing more dismal could have been desired by the most fastidious taste. The gentleman of a vocal turn was head mute, or chief mourner; Jinkins took the bass, and the rest took anything they could get.... If the two Miss Pecksniffs and Mrs. Todgers had perished by spontaneous combustion, and the serenade had been in honour of their ashes, it would have been impossible to surpass the unutterable despair expressed in that one chorus: 'Go where glory waits thee.' It was a requiem, a dirge, a moan, a howl, a wail, a lament, an abstract of everything that is sorrowful and hideous in sound.

The song which the literary boarder had written for the occasion, 'All hail to the vessel of Pecksniff, the sire,' is a parody of Scott's 'All hail to the chief who in triumph advances,' from the Lady of the Lake.

Two words that by themselves have a musical meaning are 'Chaunter' and 'Drums'; but the Chaunter referred to is one of Edward Dorrit's creditors, and the word means 'not a singer of anthems, but a seller of horses.' To this profession also Simpson belonged, on whom Mr. Pickwick was 'chummed' in the Fleet prison. A 'drum' is referred to in the description of the London streets at night in Barnaby Rudge, and signifies a rout or evening party for cards; while one where stakes ran high and much noise accompanied the play was known as a 'drum major.'

In Our Bore (R.P.) this sentence occurs:

He was at the Norwich musical festival when the extraordinary echo, for which science has been wholly unable to account, was heard for the first and last time. He and the bishop heard it at the same moment, and caught each other's eye.

Dr. A.H. Mann, who knows as much about Norwich and its festivals as any one, is quite unable to throw any light on this mystic remark. There were complaints about the acoustics of the St. Andrew's Hall many years ago, but there appears to be no historic foundation for Dickens' reference. It would certainly be interesting to know what suggested the idea to him.

There is a curious incident connected with Uncle Dick, whose great ambition was 'to beat the drum.' It was only by a mere chance that his celebrated reference to King Charles's head got into the story. Dickens originally wrote as follows (in Chapter 14, D.C.):

'Do you recollect the date,' said Mr. Dick, looking earnestly at me, and taking up his pen to note it down, 'when the bull got into the china warehouse and did so much mischief?'

In the proof Dickens struck out all the words after 'when,' and inserted in their place the following:

'King Charles the First had his head cut off?'

I said I believed it happened in the year sixteen hundred and forty-nine.

'Well,' returned Mr. Dick, scratching his ear with his pen and looking dubiously at me, 'so the books say, but I don't see how that can be. Because if it was so long ago, how could the people about him have made that mistake of putting some of the trouble out of his head, after it was taken off, into mine?'

The whole of the substituted passage is inserted in the margin at the bottom of the page. Again, when Mr. Dick shows David Copperfield his kite covered with manuscript, David was made to say in the proof: 'I thought I saw some allusion to the bull again in one or two places.' Here Dickens has struck through the words, 'the bull,' and replaced them with 'King Charles the First's head.'

The original reference was to a very popular song of the period called 'The Bull in the China Shop,' words by C. Dibdin, Junior, and music by W. Reeve. Produced about 1808, it was popularized by the celebrated clown Grimaldi. The first verse is:

You've heard of a frog in an opera hat, 'Tis a very old tale of a mouse and a rat, I could sing you another as pleasant, mayhap, Of a kitten that wore a high caul cap; But my muse on a far nobler subject shall drop, Of a bull who got into a china shop, With his right leg, left leg, upper leg, under leg, St. Patrick's day in the morning.

[17] Mr. Alfred Payne writes thus: 'Some time ago an old friend told me that he had heard from a Hertfordshire organist that Dr. W.H. Monk (editor of Hymns Ancient and Modern) adapted "Belmont" from the highly classical melody of which a few bars are given above. Monk showed this gentleman the notes, being the actual arrangement he had made from this once popular song, back in the fifties. This certainly coincides with its appearance in Severn's Islington Collection, 1854.'—See Hymn-Tunes and their Story, p. 354.

[18] The Marshalsea was a debtors' prison formerly situated in Southwark. It was closed about the middle of the last century, and demolished in 1856.



CHAPTER VII

SOME NOTED SINGERS

The Micawbers

Dickens presents us with such an array of characters who reckon singing amongst their various accomplishments that it is difficult to know where to begin. Perhaps the marvellous talents of the Micawber family entitle them to first place. Mrs. Micawber was famous for her interpretation of 'The Dashing White Sergeant' and 'Little Taffline' when she lived at home with her papa and mamma, and it was her rendering of these songs that gained her a spouse, for, as Mr. Micawber told Copperfield,

when he heard her sing the first one, on the first occasion of his seeing her beneath the parental roof, she had attracted his attention in an extraordinary degree, but that when it came to 'Little Tafflin,' he had resolved to win that woman or perish in the attempt.

It will be remembered that Mr. Bucket (B.H.) gained a wife by a similar display of vocal talent. After singing 'Believe me, if all those endearing young charms,' he informs his friend Mrs. Bagnet that this ballad was

his most powerful ally in moving the heart of Mrs. Bucket when a maiden, and inducing her to approach the altar. Mr. Bucket's own words are 'to come up to the scratch.'

Mrs. Micawber's 'Little Taffline' was a song in Storace's ballad opera Three and the Deuce, words by Prince Hoare. It will be interesting to see what the song which helped to mould Micawber's fate was like.

LITTLE TAFFLINE.

[Figure 5]

Should e'er the fortune be my lot To be made a wealthy bride, I'll glad my parents' lowly cot, All their pleasure and their pride:

And when I'm drest all in my best, I'll trip away like lady gay, I'll trip, I'll trip away.

And the lads will say, Dear heart, what a flash! Look at little Taffline with a silken sash, And the lads will say, Dear heart, what a flash! And the lads will say, Dear heart, what a flash! Look at little Taffline, Look at little Taffline, Oh, look at little Taffline with the silken sash!

There was also a character called Little Taffline in T. Dibdin's St. David's Day, the music for which was compiled and composed by Thomas Attwood, organist of St. Paul's Cathedral.

Her other song, 'The Dashing White Sergeant,' was a martial and very popular setting of some words by General Burgoyne.

Micawber could both sing and hum, and when music failed him he fell back on quotations. As he was subject to extremes of depression and elevation it was nothing unusual for him to commence a Saturday evening in tears and finish up with singing 'about Jack's delight being his lovely Nan' towards the end of it. Here we gather that one of his favourite songs was C. Dibdin's 'Lovely Nan,' containing these two lines:

But oh, much sweeter than all these Is Jack's delight, his lovely Nan.

His musical powers made him useful at the club-room in the King's Bench, where David discovered him leading the chorus of 'Gee up, Dobbin.' This would be 'Mr. Doggett's Comicall Song' in the farce The Stage Coach, containing the lines—

With a hey gee up, gee up, hay ho; With a hay gee, Dobbin, hey ho!

'Auld Lang Syne' was another of Mr. Micawber's favourites, and when David joined the worthy pair in their lodgings at Canterbury they sang it with much energy. To use Micawber's words—

When we came to 'Here's a hand, my trusty frere' we all joined hands round the table; and when we declared we would 'take a right gude willie waught,' and hadn't the least idea what it meant, we were really affected.

The memory of this joyous evening recurred to Mr. M. at a later date, after the feast in David's rooms, and he calls to mind how they had sung

We twa had run about the braes And pu'd the gowans fine.

He confesses his ignorance as to what gowans are,

but I have no doubt that Copperfield and myself would frequently have taken a pull at them, if it had been feasible.

In the last letter he writes he makes a further quotation from the song. On another occasion, however, under the stress of adverse circumstances he finds consolation in a verse from 'Scots, wha hae',' while at the end of the long epistle in which he disclosed the infamy of Uriah Heep, he claims to have it said of him, 'as of a gallant and eminent naval Hero,' that what he has done, he did

For England, home, and beauty.

'The Death of Nelson,' from which this line comes, had a long run of popularity. Braham, the composer, was one of the leading tenors of the day, and thus had the advantage of being able to introduce his own songs to the public. The novelist's dictum that 'composers can very seldom sing their own music or anybody else's either' (P.P. 15) may be true in the main, but scarcely applies to Braham, who holds very high rank amongst English tenors. Another song which he wrote with the title 'The Victory and Death of Lord Viscount Nelson' met with no success. The one quoted by Micawber was naturally one of Captain Cuttle's favourites, and it is also made use of by Silas Wegg.

The musical gifts of Mr. and Mrs. Micawber descended to their son Wilkins, who had 'a remarkable head voice,' but having failed to get into the cathedral choir at Canterbury, he had to take to singing in public-houses instead of in sacred edifices. His great song appears to have been 'The Woodpecker Tapping.' When the family emigrated Mr. M. expressed the hope that 'the melody of my son will be acceptable at the galley fire' on board ship. The final glimpse we get of him is at Port Middlebay, where he delights a large assembly by his rendering of 'Non Nobis' (see p. 149), and by his dancing with the fourth daughter of Mr. Mell.

The 'Woodpecker' song is referred to in an illustrative way by Mrs. Finching (L.D.), who says that her papa

is sitting prosily breaking his new-laid egg in the back parlour like the woodpecker tapping.

Captain Cuttle

Captain Cuttle is almost as full of melody as Micawber, though his repertoire is chiefly confined to naval ditties. His great song is 'Lovely Peg,' and his admiration for Florence Dombey induces him to substitute her name in the song, though the best he can accomplish is 'Lovely Fleg.'

There are at least three eighteenth-century ballads with Peg, or Lovely Peg, for the subject, and it is not certain which of these the Captain favoured. This is one of them:

Once more I'll tune the vocal shell, To Hills and Dales my passion tell, A flame which time can never quell, That burns for lovely Peggy.

Then comes this tuneful refrain:

[Figure 6]

Lovely Peggy, lovely Peggy, Lovely, lovely, lovely Peggy; The heav'ns should sound with echoes rung In praise of lovely Peggy.

The two others of this period that I have seen are called 'Peggy' and 'Lovely Peggy, an imitation.' However, it is most probable that the one that the Captain favoured—in spite of the mixture of names—was C. Dibdin's 'Lovely Polly.'

LOVELY POLLY

[Figure 7]

A seaman's love is void of art, Plain sailing to his port the heart; He knows no jealous folly, He knows no jealous folly.

'Tis hard enough at sea to war With boist'rous elements that jar— All's peace with lovely Polly, All's peace with lovely Polly, with lovely Polly, lovely Polly, All's peace with lovely Polly.

Dickens was very familiar with Dibdin's songs, while the eighteenth-century ones referred to he probably never heard of, as they are very rarely found.

The worthy Captain enjoys a good rollicking song, preferably of a patriotic turn, but is very unreliable as to the sources of his ditties.

'Wal'r, my boy,' replied the Captain, 'in the Proverbs of Solomon you will find the following words, "May we never want a friend in need, nor a bottle to give him!" When found, made a note of.'

This is taken from a song by J. Davy, known as 'Since the first dawn of reason,' and was sung by Incledon.

Since the first dawn of reason that beam'd on my mind, And taught me how favoured by fortune my lot, To share that good fortune I still am inclined, And impart to who wanted what I wanted not. It's a maxim entitled to every one's praise, When a man feels distress, like a man to relieve him; And my motto, though simple, means more than it says, 'May we ne'er want a friend or a bottle to give him.'

He is equally unreliable as to the source of a still more famous song. When Florence Dombey goes to see him the Captain intimates his intention of standing by old Sol Gills,

'and not desert until death do us part, and when the stormy winds do blow, do blow, do blow—overhaul the Catechism,' said the Captain parenthetically, 'and there you'll find these expressions.'

I have not heard of any church that has found it necessary to include this old refrain in its Catechism, nor even to mix it up with the Wedding Service.

A further mixture of quotations occurs when he is talking of Florence on another occasion. Speaking of the supposed death of Walter he says,

Though lost to sight, to memory dear, and England, home, and beauty.

The first part—which is one of Cuttle's favourite quotations—is the first line of a song by G. Linley. He composed a large number of operas and songs, many of which were very popular. The second part of the quotation is from Braham's 'Death of Nelson' (see p. 116).

In conversation with his friend Bunsby, Cuttle says—

Give me the lad with the tarry trousers as shines to me like di'monds bright, for which you'll overhaul the 'Stanfell's Budget,' and when found make a note.

Elsewhere he mentions Fairburn's 'Comic Songster' and the 'Little Warbler' as his song authorities.

The song referred to here is classed by Dr. Vaughan Williams amongst Essex folk-songs, but it is by no means confined to that county. It tells of a mother who wants her daughter to marry a tailor, and not wait for her sailor bold.

My mother wants me to wed with a tailor And not give me my heart's delight; But give me the man with the tarry trousers, That shines to me like diamonds bright.

After the firm of Dombey has decided to send Walter to Barbados, the boy discusses his prospects with his friend the Captain, and finally bursts into song—

How does that tune go that the sailors sing?

For the port of Barbados, Boys! Cheerily! Leaving old England behind us, boys! Cheerily!

Here the Captain roared in chorus,

Oh cheerily, cheerily! Oh cheer-i-ly!

All efforts to trace this song have failed, and for various reasons I am inclined to think that Dickens made up the lines to fit the occasion; while the words 'Oh cheerily, cheerily' are a variant of a refrain common in sea songs, and the Captain teaches Rob the Grinder to sing it at a later period of the story. The arguments against the existence of such a song are: first, that the Dombey firm have already decided to send the boy to Barbados, and as there is no song suitable, the novelist invents one; and in the second place there has never been a time in the history of Barbados to give rise to such a song as this, and no naval expedition of any consequence has ever been sent there. It is perhaps unnecessary to urge that there is no such place as the 'Port of Barbados.'

Dick Swiveller

None of Dickens' characters has such a wealth of poetical illustration at command as Mr. Richard Swiveller. He lights up the Brass office 'with scraps of song and merriment,' and when he is taking Kit's mother home in a depressed state after the trial he does his best to entertain her with 'astonishing absurdities in the way of quotation from song and poem.' From the time of his introduction, when he 'obliged the company with a few bars of an intensely dismal air,' to when he expresses his gratitude to the Marchioness—

And she shall walk in silk attire, And siller have to spare—

there is scarcely a scene in which he is present when he does not illumine his remarks by quotations of some kind or other, though there are certainly a few occasions when his listeners are not always able to appreciate their aptness. For instance in the scene between Swiveller and the single gentleman, after the latter has been aroused from his slumbers, and has intimated he is not to be disturbed again.

'I beg your pardon,' said Dick, halting in his passage to the door, which the lodger prepared to open, 'when he who adores thee has left but the name—'

'What do you mean?'

'But the name,' said Dick, 'has left but the name—in case of letters or parcels—'

'I never have any,' said the lodger.

'Or in case anybody should call.'

'Nobody ever calls on me.'

'If any mistake should arise from not having the name, don't say it was my fault, sir,' added Dick, still lingering; 'oh, blame not the bard—'

'I'll blame nobody,' said the lodger.

But that Mr. Swiveller's knowledge of songs should be both 'extensive and peculiar' is only to be expected from one who held the distinguished office of 'Perpetual Grand Master of the Glorious Apollers,' although he seems to have been more in the habit of quoting extracts from them than of giving vocal illustrations. On one occasion, however, we find him associated with Mr. Chuckster 'in a fragment of the popular duet of "All's Well" with a long shake at the end.'

The following extract illustrates the 'shake':

ALL'S WELL (DUET).

Sung by Mr. Braham and Mr. Charles Braham.

Music by Mr. Braham. [Figure 8]

All's well, All's well; Above, below, All, all's well.

Although most of Swiveller's quotations are from songs, he does not always confine himself to them, as for instance, when he sticks his fork into a large carbuncular potato and reflects that 'Man wants but little here below,' which seems to show that in his quieter moments he had studied Goldsmith's Hermit.

Mr. Swiveller's quotations are largely connected with his love-passages with Sophy Wackles, and they are so carefully and delicately graded that they practically cover the whole ground in the rise and decline of his affections. He begins by suggesting that 'she's all my fancy painted her.'

From this he passes to

She's like the red, red rose, That's newly sprung in June. She's also like a melody, That's sweetly played in tune.

then

When the heart of a man is depressed with fears, The mist is dispelled when Miss Wackles appears,

which is his own variant of

If the heart of a man is depressed with care, The mist is dispelled when a woman appears.

But at the party given by the Wackleses Dick finds he is cut out by Mr. Cheggs, and so makes his escape saying, as he goes—

My boat is on the shore, and my bark is on the sea; but before I pass this door, I will say farewell to thee,

and he subsequently adds—

Miss Wackles, I believed you true, and I was blessed in so believing; but now I mourn that e'er I knew a girl so fair, yet so deceiving.

The denouement occurs some time after, when, in the course of an interview with Quilp, he takes from his pocket

a small and very greasy parcel, slowly unfolding it, and displaying a little slab of plum cake, extremely indigestible in appearance and bordered with a paste of sugar an inch and a half deep.

'What should you say this was?' demanded Mr. Swiveller.

'It looks like bride-cake,' replied the dwarf, grinning.

'And whose should you say it was?' inquired Mr. Swiveller, rubbing the pastry against his nose with dreadful calmness. 'Whose?'

'Not—'

'Yes,' said Dick, 'the same. You needn't mention her name. There's no such name now. Her name is Cheggs now, Sophy Cheggs. Yet loved I as man never loved that hadn't wooden legs, and my heart, my heart is breaking for the love of Sophy Cheggs.'

With this extemporary adaptation of a popular ballad to the distressing circumstances of his own case, Mr. Swiveller folded up the parcel again, beat it very flat upon the palms of his hands, thrust it into his breast, buttoned his coat over it, and folded his arms upon the whole.

And then he signifies his grief by pinning a piece of crape on his hat, saying as he did so,

'Twas ever thus: from childhood's hour I've seen my fondest hopes decay; I never loved a tree or flower But 'twas the first to fade away; I never nursed a dear gazelle, To glad me with its soft black eye, But when it came to know me well, And love me, it was sure to marry a market gardener.

He is full of song when entertaining the Marchioness. 'Do they often go where glory waits 'em?' he asks, on hearing that Sampson and Sally Brass have gone out for the evening. He accepts the statement that Miss Brass thinks him a 'funny chap' by affirming that 'Old King Cole was a merry old soul'; and on taking his leave of the little slavey he says,

'Good night, Marchioness. Fare thee well, and if for ever then for ever fare thee well—and put up the chain, Marchioness, in case of accidents.

Since life like a river is flowing, I care not how fast it rolls on, ma'am, While such purl on the bank still is growing, And such eyes light the waves as they run.'

On a later occasion, after enjoying some games of cards he retires to rest in a deeply contemplative mood.

'These rubbers,' said Mr. Swiveller, putting on his nightcap in exactly the same style as he wore his hat, 'remind me of the matrimonial fireside. Cheggs's wife plays cribbage; all-fours likewise. She rings the changes on 'em now. From sport to sport they hurry her, to banish her regrets; and when they win a smile from her they think that she forgets—but she don't.'

Many of Mr. Swiveller's quotations are from Moore's Irish Melodies, though he has certainly omitted one which, coming from him, would not have been out of place, viz. 'The time I've lost in wooing'!

On another occasion Swiveller recalls some well-known lines when talking to Kit. 'An excellent woman, that mother of yours, Christopher,' said Mr. Swiveller; '"Who ran to catch me when I fell, and kissed the place to make it well? My mother."'

This is from Ann Taylor's nursery song, which has probably been more parodied than any other poem in existence. There is a French version by Madame a Taslie, and it has most likely been translated into other languages.

Dick gives us another touching reference to his mother. He is overcome with curiosity to know in what part of the Brass establishment the Marchioness has her abode.

My mother must have been a very inquisitive woman; I have no doubt I'm marked with a note of interrogation somewhere. My feelings I smother, but thou hast been the cause of this anguish, my—

This last remark is a memory of T.H. Bayly's celebrated song 'We met,' which tells in somewhat incoherent language the story of a maiden who left her true love at the command of her mother, and married for money.

The world may think me gay, For my feelings I smother; Oh thou hast been the cause Of this anguish—my mother.

T. Haynes Bayly was a prominent song-writer some seventy years ago (1797-1839). His most popular ballad was 'I'd be a Butterfly.' It came out with a coloured title-page, and at once became the rage, in fact, as John Hullah said, 'half musical England was smitten with an overpowering, resistless rage for metempsychosis.' There were many imitations, such as 'I'd be a Nightingale' and 'I'd be an Antelope.'

Teachers and Composers

Although we read so much about singers, the singing-master is rarely introduced, in fact Mr. M'Choakumchild (H.T.), who 'could teach everything from vocal music to general cosmography,' almost stands alone. However, in view of the complaints of certain adjudicators about the facial distortions they beheld at musical competitions, it may be well to record Mrs. General's recipe for giving 'a pretty form to the lips' (L.D.).

Papa, potatoes, poultry, prunes, and prism are all very good words for the lips, especially prunes and prism. You will find it serviceable in the formation of a demeanour.

Nor do composers receive much attention, but amongst the characters we may mention Mr. Skimpole (B.H.), who composed half an opera, and the lamp porter at Mugby Junction, who composed 'Little comic songs-like.' In this category we can scarcely include Mrs. Kenwigs, who 'invented and composed' her eldest daughter's name, the result being 'Morleena.' Mr. Skimpole, however, has a further claim upon our attention, as he 'played what he composed with taste,' and was also a performer on the violoncello. He had his lighter moments, too, as when he went to the piano one evening at 11 p.m. and rattled hilariously

That the best of all ways to lengthen our days Was to steal a few hours from Night, my dear!

It is evident that his song was 'The Young May Moon,' one of Moore's Irish Melodies.

The young May moon is beaming, love, The glow-worm's lamp is gleaming, love, How sweet to rove Through Morna's grove While the drowsy world is dreaming, love!

Then awake—the heavens look bright, my dear! 'Tis never too late for delight, my dear! And the best of all ways To lengthen our days Is to steal a few hours from the night, my dear!

Silas Wegg's Effusions

We first meet Silas Wegg in the fifth chapter of Our Mutual Friend, where he is introduced to us as a ballad-monger. His intercourse with his employer, Mr. Boffin, is a frequent cause of his dropping into poetry, and most of his efforts are adaptations of popular songs. His character is not one that arouses any sympathetic enthusiasm, and probably no one is sorry when towards the end of the story Sloppy seizes hold of the mean little creature, carries him out of the house, and deposits him in a scavenger's cart 'with a prodigious splash.'

The following are Wegg's poetical effusions, with their sources and original forms.

Book I, Ch. 5.

'Beside that cottage door, Mr. Boffin,' from 'The Soldier's Tear'

Alexander Lee

Beside that cottage porch A girl was on her knees; She held aloft a snowy scarf Which fluttered in the breeze. She breath'd a prayer for him, A prayer he could not hear; But he paused to bless her as she knelt, And wip'd away a tear.

Book I, Ch. 15.

The gay, the gay and festive scene, I'll tell thee how the maiden wept, Mrs. Boffin.

From 'The Light Guitar.' (See Index of Songs.)

Book I, Ch. 15.

'Thrown on the wide world, doomed to wander and roam.' From 'The Peasant Boy'

J. Parry

Thrown on the wide world, doom'd to wander and roam, Bereft of his parents, bereft of his home, A stranger to pleasure, to comfort and joy, Behold little Edmund, the poor Peasant Boy.

Book I, Ch. 15.

'Weep for the hour.' From 'Eveleen's Bower' T. Moore

Oh! weep for the hour When to Eveleen's bower The lord of the valley with false vows came.

Book I, Ch 15.

'Then farewell, my trim-built wherry.' From 'The Waterman'

C. Dibdin

Book II, Ch. 7.

'Helm a-weather, now lay her close.' From 'The Tar for all Weathers'

Unknown

Book III, Ch. 6.

'No malice to dread, sir.' From verse 3 of 'My Ain Fireside.'

Words by Mrs. E. Hamilton

Nae falsehood to dread, nae malice to fear, But truth to delight me, and kindness to cheer; O' a' roads to pleasure that ever were tried, There's nane half so sure as one's own fireside. My ain fireside, my ain fireside, Oh sweet is the blink o' my ain fireside.

Book III, Ch. 6.

And you needn't, Mr. Venus, be your black bottle, For surely I'll be mine, And we'll take a glass with a slice of lemon in it, to which you're partial, For auld lang syne.

A much altered version of verse 5 of Burns' celebrated song.

Book III, Ch. 6.

Charge, Chester, charge, On Mr. Venus, on.

From Scott's Marmion.

Book IV, Ch. 3.

'If you'll come to the bower I've shaded for you.' From 'Will you Come to the Bower'

T. Moore

Will you come to the Bower I've shaded for you, Our bed shall be roses, all spangled with dew. Will you, will you, will you, will you come to the Bower? Will you, will you, will you, will you come to the Bower?



A LIST OF SONGS AND INSTRUMENTAL MUSIC MENTIONED BY DICKENS

WITH HISTORICAL NOTES

The figures in brackets denote the chapter in the novel referred to

A COBBLER THERE WAS (D. & S. 2)

A cobbler there was, and he lived in a stall, Which serv'd him for parlour, for kitchen and hall, No coin in his pocket, nor care in his pate, No ambition had he, nor no duns at his gate, Derry down, down, down, derry down.

The melody appeared in Beggar's Opera, 1728, and Fashionable Lady, 1730.

A FROG HE WOULD (P.P. 32)

The theme of the ballad belongs to the late sixteenth century.

A frog he would a-wooing go, Heigho! said Rowley, Whether his mother would let him or no, With his rowly powly, Gammon and spinnage, O heigh! said Anthony Rowley.

We are told that Jack Hopkins sang 'The King, God Bless Him,' to a novel air, compounded of 'The Bay of Biscay' and 'A Frog He Would.' The latter was evidently the modern setting by C.E. Horn.

ALICE GRAY

See 'Yet Lov'd I.'

ALL HAIL TO THE VESSEL OF PECKSNIFF THE SIRE (M.C. 11)

Perhaps a parody on 'All Hail to the Chief.'

ALL IN THE DOWNS (P.P. 3)

See 'Black-Eyed Susan.'

ALL'S WELL (O.C.S. 56).

See p. 125.

Duet in The English Fleet.

(T. Dibdin) J. Braham.

Deserted by the waning moon, When skies proclaim night's cheerless gloom, On tower, fort, or tented ground, The sentry walks his lonely round; And should a footstep haply stray Where caution marks the guarded way, Who goes there? Stranger, quickly tell, A friend. The word? Good-night. All's well.

AND SHE SHALL WALK (O.C.S. 66)

Words by Susan Blamire.

And ye shall walk in silk attire, And siller ha'e to spare, Gin ye'll consent to be my bride, Nor think on Donald mair.

Susan Blamire was born at Carden Hall, near Carlisle. Very few of her poems were published under her own name, as well-born ladies of those days disliked seeing their names published as authors. 'The Siller Crown,' from which this verse is taken, is in the Cumberland dialect. It first appeared anonymously in the Scots Musical Museum, 1790, and the authorship was subsequently settled by members of the family.

AND YOU NEEDN'T, MR. VENUS, BE YOUR BLACK BOTTLE (O.M.F.).

See p. 134.

A STIFF NOR'-WESTER'S BLOWING, BILL (D. & S. 49)

From 'The Sailor's Consolation.'

One night came on a hurricane, The seas were mountains rolling, When Barney Buntline turned his quid, And said to Billy Bowling, A stiff Nor'-Wester's blowing, Bill, Hark, don't you hear it roar now? Lord help 'em! how I pity's all Unhappy folk ashore now.

Mr. Kidson says in reference to this: 'I do not know that it was ever written to music, though I fancy more than one popular tune has been set to the words, which are by a person named Pitt.'

AULD LANG SYNE ('Holly Tree,' D.C. 17, 28)

Words by Burns.

A version of the melody occurs at the end of the overture to Shield's Rosina, 1783, and is either his own composition or an imitation of some Scotch melody. As, however, such melody has not hitherto been discovered, no great importance can be attached to this theory. Rosina was performed in Edinburgh.

Some maintain that the tune is taken from a Scotch reel known as the 'Miller's Wedding,' found in Bremner's Reels (1757-1761).

AWAY WITH MELANCHOLY (O.C.S. 58, O.M.F. ii. 6, P.P. 44, D.C. 8)

The melody is from Mozart's Magic Flute, 'Das klinget so herrlich'—a chorus with glockenspiel accompaniment. The writer of the words is unknown.

The air was introduced into an arrangement of Shakespeare's Tempest, and set to the words 'To moments so delighting!' sung by Miss Stephens. Also found as a duet 'composed by Sigr. Mozart, arranged by F.A. Hyde.'

BAY OF BISCAY (U.T. 31, D. & S. 39, P.P. 32)

Words by Andrew Cherry. J. Davy.

Also see under 'A Frog He Would.'

BEETHOVEN'S SONATA IN B.

See p. 28.

BEGONE, DULL CARE (O.C.S. 7, E.D. 2)

Author unknown. The words occur in various song-books of the eighteenth century. The tune is seventeenth century, possibly derived from the 'Queen's Jigg' in the Dancing Master.

Begone, dull care, I prithee begone from me; Begone, dull care, you and I can never agree.

The words were set as a glee by John Sale, and this may be the music that Dickens knew.

BELIEVE ME, IF ALL JARLEY'S WAXWORKS SO RARE (O.C.S. 27)

A parody on the following.

BELIEVE ME, IF ALL THOSE ENDEARING YOUNG CHARMS (B.H. 55)

Words by T. Moore.

Set to the old melody 'My Lodging is on the Cold Ground.' This appears to have come into existence about the middle of the eighteenth century. It is found in Vocal Music, or the Songster's Companion, 1775, and it was claimed by Moore to be an Irish melody, but some authorities deny this. It has also been claimed as Scotch, but the balance of opinion is in favour of its English origin (F. Kidson).

BESIDE THAT COTTAGE DOOR, MR. BOFFIN (O.M.F.)

See p. 133.

BID ME DISCOURSE (S.B.T. 4)

Words adapted from Shakespeare's Venus and Adonis.

H.R. Bishop.

BIRD WALTZ (D. & S. 29, 38) Panormo.

A very popular piano piece of the pre-Victorian period.

BLACK-EYED SUSAN (A.N.), OR ALL IN THE DOWNS (P.P. 3)

Words by John Gay. R. Leveridge.

This song was printed in sheet form previous to 1730, in which year it appeared in Watts' Musical Miscellany, Vol. IV., and was also inserted about that time in several ballad operas.

BOLD TURPIN VUNCE (P.P. 43)

Mr. Frank Kidson has pointed out that Sam Weller's song is founded upon a ballad entitled 'Turpin and the Bishop,' which appears in Gaieties and Gravities, by one of the authors of Rejected Addresses. The author is said to be Horatio Smith. There is a good four-part setting of the words by Sir F. Bridge.

BRAVE LODGINGS FOR ONE (P.P. 29)

Original.

BRITISH GRENADIERS (B.H. 49)

The tune as we know it now is the growth of centuries, the foundation probably being a tune in The Fitzwilliam Virginal Book. The Grenadiers were founded in 1678. The second verse refers to 'hand grenades,' and the regiment ceased to use these in the reign of Queen Anne. The author is unknown.

BRITONS, STRIKE HOME (S.L.)

The well-known song in Purcell's Bonduca gave its name to an opera by Charles Dibdin, published in 1803. This work probably suggested the phrase to Dickens. It was written with a view to arousing a patriotic feeling. The following verse occurs in the work:

When Dryden wrote and Purcell sung Britons, strike home, The patriot-sounds re-echoing rung The vaulted dome.

BUFFALO GALS (Letters)

See p. 10.

BY THE SAD SEA WAVES (Letters) Julius Benedict.

A once popular song from the opera The Brides of Venice.

CHEER, BOYS, CHEER (U.T. 29)

Words by Charles Mackay. Henry Russell.

Cheer! boys, cheer! no more of idle sorrow— Courage! true hearts shall bear us on our way, Hope points before, and shows the bright to-morrow, Let us forget the darkness of to-day.

One of Russell's most popular songs. He sold the copyright for L3, and shortly afterwards learnt that the publisher had to keep thirty-nine presses at work on it night and day to meet the demand.

COPENHAGEN WALTZ (D. & S. 7)

Also known as the Danish Waltz.

DEAD MARCH.

From the oratorio Saul. Handel.

See p. 61.

DEATH OF NELSON (D.C. 52, D. & S. 48, O.M.F. iv. 3)

See p. 116. J. Braham.

Too well the gallant hero fought, For England, home, and beauty.

DI PIACER (S.B.T. 1) Rossini.

A favourite air from the opera La Gazza Ladra.

DOWNFALL OF PARIS

See p. 31.

DRAGON OF WANTLEY (D.C. 38)

An eighteenth-century popular burlesque opera.

Words by H. Carey, music by Lampe.

DRINK TO ME ONLY WITH THINE EYES (O.M.F. iii. 14)

Words by Ben Jonson.

The composer is unknown. The air was originally issued as a glee for three voices.

DUMBLEDUMDEARY (S.B.S. 10)

A refrain rarely found in old songs. It occurs in 'Richard of Taunton Dean.' Also (as in the reference) the name of a dance.

EVENING BELLS (D.C. 38)

Duet by G. Alexander Lee.

Come away, come away, evening bells are ringing, Sweetly, sweetly; 'tis the vesper hour.

FARE THEE WELL, AND IF FOR EVER (O.C.S. 58)

Words by Byron.

Included in 'Domestic Pieces.'

Fare thee well, and if for ever, Still for ever, fare thee well; Even though unforgiving, never 'Gainst thee shall my heart rebel.

About 1825 the words were set to an air from Mozart's La Clemenza di Tito. There are original settings by Parke, S. Webbe, and six other composers.

FILL THE BUMPER FAIR (N.T.)

Moore's Irish Melodies, air 'Bob and Joan.'

FLOW ON, THOU SHINING RIVER (S.B.T. 1)

Moore's National Melodies.

Said to be a 'Portuguese Air.' The melody has been utilized as a hymn-tune.

FLY, FLY FROM THE WORLD, MY BESSY, WITH ME (S.B.S. 2)

Words and music by T. Moore.

FOR ENGLAND

See 'Death of Nelson.'

FOR ENGLAND, HOME, AND BEAUTY

See 'Death of Nelson.'

FOR THE PORT OF BARBADOS, BOYS (D. & S. 15)

Original (?) See p. 122.

FROM SPORT TO SPORT (O.C.S. 58)

From 'Oh no, we never mention her.'

Words by T.H. Bayly. H.R. Bishop.

From sport to sport they hurry me, To banish my regret; And when they win a smile from me, They think that I forget.

GEE UP, DOBBIN (D.C. 12)

In the Burney Collection is a tune 'Gee Ho, Dobbin.' Also in Apollo's Cabinet, 1757, Vol. II, and Love in a Village, 1762. The tune was frequently used for ephemeral songs.

It is doubtful if Dickens would know this song, the title of which has passed into a common phrase.

GLORIOUS APOLLO (O.C.S. 13, 56) S. Webbe.

The title of this glee probably suggested the name of the 'Glorious Apollers.' See p. 124.

GO WHERE GLORY WAITS THEE (M.C. 11)

('Do they often go where glory waits 'em?' O.C.S. 58)

Moore's Irish Melodies, set to the air 'Maid of the Valley.'

GOD BLESS THE PRINCE OF WALES (U.T. 29)

Words by J. Ceiriog Hughes. Trans, by G. Linley. H. Brinley Richards, 1862.

GOD BLESS YOU, MERRY GENTLEMEN (C.C.)

Origin unknown. The second word should be 'rest,' and the correct reading is

God rest you merry, gentlemen.

GOD SAVE THE KING (S.B.S. 19, &c.)

GOD SAVE THE QUEEN (M.C. 29)

It is unnecessary here to discuss the origin and sources of this air. The form in which we know it is probably due to Henry Carey, and the first recorded public performance was on September 28, 1745.

HAD I A HEART FOR FALSEHOOD FRAMED (D. & S. 14)

Words by R.B. Sheridan.

Sung by Mr. Leoni (see Choir, May, 1912).

In the Duenna, 1775. Set to the air now known as 'The Harp that once through Tara's Halls.'

Moore, in his Irish Melodies, calls the melody 'Gramachree.'

HAIL COLUMBIA (M.C. 13, A.N.)

Mr. Elson (National Music of America) says that the music was originally known as the 'President's March,' probably by a German composer. The words were subsequently adapted to the air by Dr. Joseph Hopkinson.

HARMONIOUS BLACKSMITH (G.E. 21)

From Handel's Suite de Pieces pour le Clavecin, Set I.

See p. 19.

HAS SHE THEN FAILED IN HER TRUTH (N.N. 49)

Anon. H.R. Bishop.

And has she then failed in her truth, The beautiful maid I adore? Shall I never again hear her voice, Nor see her lov'd form any more?

HEART OF OAK (B.R. 7, E.D. 12, U.T. 20, parody)

Words by D. Garrick. W. Boyce.

It is important to notice that the correct title is as given, and not 'Hearts of Oak.'

HELM A WEATHER, NOW LAY HER CLOSE (O.M.F.)

See p. 133.

HOW DOTH THE LITTLE— (Ch.) Dr. Watts.

See p. 79.

I AM A FRIAR OF ORDERS GREY (S.B.S. 8) (Out of Season)

Words by John O'Keefe. Wm. Reeve.

Appeared in Merry Sherwood, 1795.

I CARE NOT FOR SPRING

See p. 99.

I'D CROWNS RESIGN, TO CALL HER MINE (D.C. 25)

'Lass of Richmond Hill.'

Words by L. MacNally. J. Hook.

I'd crowns resign, to call her mine, Sweet lass of Richmond Hill.

For a long time there was a dispute between the partisans of Surrey and Yorkshire as to which 'Richmond Hill' was referred to. The former county was the favourite for a long time, till a communication in Notes and Queries (10th series iii. p. 290) pulverized its hopes and definitely placed the locality in Yorkshire.

IF I HAD A DONKEY (O.C.S. 27)

See p. 95.

IF YOU'LL COME TO THE BOWER (O.M.F.)

See p. 134.

I'LL TELL THEE HOW THE MAIDEN WEPT (O.M.F.)

See p. 133.

IN HURRY, POST HASTE FOR A LICENCE (P.P. 10)

See p. 90.

I SAW HER AT THE FANCY FAIR (S.B.T. 11)

I SAW THY SHOW IN YOUTHFUL PRIME (O.C.S. 27)

Moore's Irish Melodies, air 'Domhnall.'

I saw thy form in youthful prime, Nor thought that pale decay Would steal before the steps of time, And waste its bloom away, Mary.

ISLE OF THE BRAVE AND LAND OF THE FREE (M.J.)

Original.

IT MAY LIGHTEN AND STORM (M.C. 42)

Possibly from some old ballad opera, but more probably original.

JACK'S DELIGHT (TO) HIS LOVELY NAN (D.C. 11)

Words and music by C. Dibdin.

From 'Lovely Nan.' Last two lines:

But oh, much sweeter than all these, Is Jack's delight, his lovely Nan.

JIM CROW (A.N.) Unknown.

See p. 97.

I come from old Kentucky, A long time ago, Where I first larn to wheel about, And jump Jim Crow; Wheel about and turn about, And do jis so, Eb'ry time I wheel about, I jump Jim Crow.

JOLLY YOUNG WATERMAN (It., P.P. 33)

Words and music by C. Dibdin in The Waterman.

KING DEATH (B.H. 33)

Words by Barry Cornwall. Neukomm.

King Death was a rare old fellow, He sat where no sun could shine, And he lifted his hand so yellow, And pour'd out his coal-black wine. Hurrah for the coal-black wine!

John Leech used to sing 'King Death,' and it was of his voice that Jerrold once remarked, 'I say, Leech, if you had the same opportunity of exercising your voice as you have of using your pencil, how it would draw!'

LESBIA HATH A BEAMING EYE (Letter to Lemon)

Words by Moore.

Set to the delightfully gay air 'Nora Creina.'

Lesbia hath a beaming eye, But no one knows for whom it beameth, Right and left its arrows fly, But what they aim at no one dreameth!

LISTEN TO THE WATERFALL (B.H. 32) Lord Mornington.

From the glee 'Here in cool grot.'

LITTLE TAFFLINE (D.C. 28)

Words by Prince Hoare. S. Storace.

In the opera Three and The Deuce, produced in 1806.

See pp. 112, 113.

There is a character 'Little Taffline' in T. Dibdin's St. David's Day, music composed and compiled by Attwood. There is another setting said to be 'composed by J. Parry,' but it is merely an altered form of the original.

LOVELY PEG (D. & S. 10)

See pp. 117-119.

MARSEILLAISE (M.C. 15, E.D. 2, L.D. 2)

Rouget de Lisle.

For brief history see The Choir (Nov., 1911)

MASANIELLO (S.B.T. 9)

Opera by Auber.

See p. 26.

MAY WE NE'ER WANT A FRIEND (D. & S. 15)

See 'When the first dawn of reason.'

MEN OF PROMETHEUS (S.B.T. 9)

See p. 26.

This was the name given to the first edition of Beethoven's ballet music to Prometheus, composed in 1800.

MISS WACKLES, I BELIEVED YOU TRUE (O.C.S. 8)

'Mary, I believed thee true,' Moore (one of his 'Juvenile Poems').

Mary, I believed thee true, And I was blest in so believing, But now I mourn that e'er I knew A girl so fair and so deceiving!

It has been suggested that these words were adapted and sung to the Scotch air 'Gala Water.'

MY BOAT IS ON THE SHORE (G.S.) (D.C. 54, Letters)

Words by Lord Byron. Bishop.

See p. 12.

Also set by W. Cratherne.

MY FEELINGS I SMOTHER (O.C.S. 36)

See 'We met.'

MY HEART'S IN THE HIGHLANDS (O.C.S. 2, S.B.S. 2)

Words partly by Burns.

In Captain Fraser's Airs Peculiar to the Scottish Highlands, 1816.

There is a parody by Dickens (see Forster's Life, ch. 8).

NEVER LEAVE OFF DANCING (D.C. 41)

Said to be the subject of a French song.

NO MALICE TO DREAD, SIR (O.M.F.)

See p. 134.

NON NOBIS (S.B.S. 19)

This celebrated canon, by Byrd, has been performed at public dinners from time immemorial. It also used to be performed at the Theatre Royal, Covent Garden.

NOW'S THE DAY, AND NOW'S THE HOUR (D.C. 54)

Verse 2 of 'Scots, Wha Hae' (Burns).

Now's the day, and now's the hour, See the front o' battle lour, See approach proud Edward's power, Chains and slaverie.

OF ALL THE GIRLS THAT ARE SO SMART (O.C.S. 50)

Words and music by Henry Carey.

Carey composed his melody in 1715. It soon became popular, but owing to the similarity of certain phrases to those of an older tune known as 'The Country Lass,' the two gradually got mixed up, with the result that the latter became the recognized setting.

OFF SHE GOES (S.B.T. 7)

A once popular dance air.

OFT IN THE STILLY NIGHT (S.B.S. 13)

From T. Moore's National Airs, set to an air possibly of Scotch origin. There are also settings by Stevenson and Hullah.

OH BLAME NOT THE BARD (O.C.S. 35)

Words by T. Moore.

In Irish Melodies. Set to the tune 'Kitty Tyrrel.'

OH GIVE ME BUT MY ARAB STEED (O.C.S. 21)

Words by T.H. Bayly. G.A. Hodson.

Written in 1828. Sung by Braham.

Oh give me but my Arab steed, My prince defends his right, And I will to the battle speed, To guard him in the fight.

OH CHEERILY, CHEERILY (D. & S. 32)

Original, but a refrain similar to this is not uncommon in old sea songs.

OH LADY FAIR (G.E. 13)

Trio by Moore.

See 'Strew then, O strew.'

OH LET US LOVE OUR OCCUPATIONS (Ch.)

Original lines by Dickens. 'Set to music on the new system,' probably refers to Hullah's method (c. 1841), or possibly the Tonic Sol-fa (c. 1843), see p. 17.

OH LANDSMEN ARE FOLLY (H.R.)

Original.

OLD CLEM (G.E. 12, 15)

A custom prevailed at Chatham of holding a procession on St. Clement's day, and the saint, who was irreverently designated 'Old Clem,' was personated by a young smith disguised for the occasion.

Dickens frequently writes a verse in the form of prose, and this is an example. Written out properly, it reads thus:

Hammer boys round—Old Clem, With a thump and a sound—Old Clem, Beat it out, beat it out—Old Clem, With a cluck for the stout—Old Clem, Blow the fire, blow the fire—Old Clem, Roaring drier, soaring higher—Old Clem.

OLD KING COLE (O.C.S. 58, P.P. 36)

The personality of this gentleman has never been settled. Chappell suggests he was 'Old Cole,' a cloth-maker of Reading temp. Henry I. Wardle's carol 'I care not for spring' (P.P. 36) was adapted to this air, and printed in How's Illustrated Book of British Song.

OVER THE HILLS AND FAR AWAY (Dr. M., M.C. 36)

An old saying, both in song and as a phrase. It occurs in two songs in D'Urfey's Pills to Purge Melancholy, 1709, one of which is,

Tom he was a piper's son, He learned to play when he was young; But all the tune that he could play Was over the hills and far away. (Vol. iv.)

Doctor Marigold's version is probably original:

North and South and West and East, Winds liked best and winds liked least, Here and there and gone astray, Over the hills and far away.

OVER THE WATER TO CHARLIE (O.C.S. 27)

Tune in Johnson's Musical Museum, Vol. II, 1788.

Come boat me o'er, come row me o'er, Come boat me o'er to Charlie, I'll gie John Brown another half-crown, To boat me o'er to Charlie; We'll o'er the water, we'll o'er the sea, We'll o'er the water to Charlie, Come weal, come woe, we'll gather and go, And live or die wi' Charlie.

Another Jacobite song was the cause of an amusing incident at Edinburgh. On the occasion of one of his visits there Dickens went to the theatre, and he and his friends were much amazed and amused by the orchestra playing 'Charlie is my darling' amid tumultuous shouts of delight.