III.—Contemporary Comic Songs

III.—Contemporary Comic SongsWhen 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 whosang 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, thoughthere 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 theFrolic 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 calledLondon Oddities(1822), which also contains ‘Time of Day,’ probably the comic duet referred to inThe Mistaken Milliner(S.B.). This sketch was written in 1835 forBell's Life in London, the original title beingThe Vocal Dressmaker, and containsan 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 thepresent 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 priceOf pastry, cream and jellies niceBe cautious how you take an iceWhenever you're overwarm.A merchant who from India came,And Shiverand Shakey was his name,A pastrycook's did once enticeTo take a cooling, luscious ice,The weather, hot enough to kill,Kept tempting him to eat, untilIt gave his corpus such a chillHe 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, duringwhich 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 ActDumb animals to prevent getting cracktOn 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 ofSketches by Bozthere 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’ hadbestowed 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 entitledBone 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, whilePunchcaricatured 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 atthe watering-place referred to inOut of the Seasonwasevery 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[MIDI][Score to The Ratcatcher's Daughter]In Westminster, not long ago,There lived a ratcatcher's daughter;She was not born in WestminsterBut on t'other side of the water.Some SingersIn thePickwick Paperswe have at least three original poems. Wardle's carol—I care not for Spring; on his fickle wingLet 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 HeathHis 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 notwery 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 findreferences 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 nomention 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 thenbegan 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 hisgreat delight. What was the song Miss Mills sang to David Copperfield and Doraabout 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 himhumming 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 thatthe 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 heoccasionally 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 theSketchesremarks 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 inat the harmony meetings in which the collegians at the Marshalsea18used 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 talllady had the same, and then they both merged imperceptibly into the original air.Our author is quite impartial in his distribution of his voices. InP.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 wasa 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.[MIDIorMIDI][Score to White sand and grey sand]White sand and grey sand:Who'll buy my white sand?Who'll buy my grey sand?Glee-SingingA 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) thathewas 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 chiefwho in triumph advances,’ from theLady 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 inBarnaby 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.’InOur 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 historicfoundation 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 inthe 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.17Mr. 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 ofHymns 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'sIslington Collection, 1854.’—SeeHymn-Tunes and their Story, p. 354.18The Marshalsea was a debtors' prison formerly situated in Southwark. It was closed about the middle of the last century, and demolished in 1856.CHAPTER VIISOME NOTED SINGERSThe MicawbersDickenspresents 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 endearingyoung charms,’ he informs his friend Mrs. Bagnet that this ballad washis 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 operaThree 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.[MIDI][Score to Little Taffline]Should e'er the fortune be my lotTo 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'sSt. 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 hisfavourite songs was C. Dibdin's ‘Lovely Nan,’ containing these two lines:But oh, much sweeter than all theseIs 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 farceThe 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 sungWe twa had run about the braesAnd 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 didFor 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 Micawberwas 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 papais sitting prosily breaking his new-laid egg in the back parlour like the woodpecker tapping.Captain CuttleCaptain 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:[MIDI][Score to Lovely Peggy]Lovely Peggy, lovely Peggy,Lovely, lovely, lovely Peggy;The heav'ns should sound with echoes rungIn 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 thatthe Captain favoured—in spite of the mixture of names—was C. Dibdin's ‘Lovely Polly.’LOVELY POLLY[MIDI][Score to Lovely Polly]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 warWith 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 heprobably 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,’ saidthe 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, andEngland, 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. VaughanWilliams 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 tailorAnd 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 Captainteaches 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 SwivellerNone 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 findhim 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.[MIDI][Score to All's well]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'sHermit.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 toShe's like the red, red rose,That's newly sprung in June.She's also like a melody,That's sweetly played in tune.thenWhen the heart of a man is depressed with fears,The mist is dispelled when Miss Wackles appears,which is his own variant ofIf 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.Thedénouementoccurs some time after, when, in the course of an interview with Quilp, he takes from his pocketa 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 hourI've seen my fondest hopes decay;I never loved a tree or flowerBut '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 sportto 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'sIrish 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 à 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;Ohthouhast been the causeOf 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 ComposersAlthough 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 thecomplaints 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 hilariouslyThat the best of all ways to lengthen our daysWas to steal a few hours from Night, my dear!It is evident that his song was ‘The Young May Moon,’ one of Moore'sIrish Melodies.The young May moon is beaming, love,The glow-worm's lamp is gleaming, love,How sweet to roveThrough Morna's groveWhile 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 waysTo lengthen our daysIs to steal a few hours from the night, my dear!Silas Wegg's EffusionsWe first meet Silas Wegg in the fifth chapter ofOur 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.

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, thoughthere 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 theFrolic 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.

1.—‘All the World's a Stage,’ a popular medley written by Mr. L. Rede, and sung by Mrs. Kelley in theFrolic 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 calledLondon Oddities(1822), which also contains ‘Time of Day,’ probably the comic duet referred to inThe Mistaken Milliner(S.B.). This sketch was written in 1835 forBell's Life in London, the original title beingThe Vocal Dressmaker, and containsan 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 thepresent 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 priceOf pastry, cream and jellies niceBe cautious how you take an iceWhenever you're overwarm.A merchant who from India came,And Shiverand Shakey was his name,A pastrycook's did once enticeTo take a cooling, luscious ice,The weather, hot enough to kill,Kept tempting him to eat, untilIt gave his corpus such a chillHe 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.

Words by J. Beuler.

Accompaniment by J. Clinton.

All you who're fond in spite of priceOf pastry, cream and jellies niceBe cautious how you take an iceWhenever you're overwarm.A merchant who from India came,And Shiverand Shakey was his name,A pastrycook's did once enticeTo take a cooling, luscious ice,The weather, hot enough to kill,Kept tempting him to eat, untilIt gave his corpus such a chillHe 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, duringwhich 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 ActDumb animals to prevent getting cracktOn 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 ofSketches by Bozthere 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’ hadbestowed 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 entitledBone 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, whilePunchcaricatured 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 atthe watering-place referred to inOut of the Seasonwas

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

[MIDI][Score to The Ratcatcher's Daughter]In Westminster, not long ago,There lived a ratcatcher's daughter;She was not born in WestminsterBut on t'other side of the water.

[MIDI][Score to The Ratcatcher's Daughter]

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

In thePickwick Paperswe have at least three original poems. Wardle's carol—

I care not for Spring; on his fickle wingLet 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 HeathHis 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 findreferences 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 nomention 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.

‘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 hisgreat 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 theSketchesremarks 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 Marshalsea18used 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 talllady had the same, and then they both merged imperceptibly into the original air.

Our author is quite impartial in his distribution of his voices. InP.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.

[MIDIorMIDI][Score to White sand and grey sand]White sand and grey sand:Who'll buy my white sand?Who'll buy my grey sand?

[MIDIorMIDI][Score to White sand and grey sand]

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

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) thathewas 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 chiefwho in triumph advances,’ from theLady 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 inBarnaby 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.’

InOur 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 historicfoundation 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?’

‘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 inthe 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.

17Mr. 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 ofHymns 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'sIslington Collection, 1854.’—SeeHymn-Tunes and their Story, p. 354.

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

Dickenspresents 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 endearingyoung 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 operaThree 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.[MIDI][Score to Little Taffline]Should e'er the fortune be my lotTo 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!

[MIDI][Score to Little Taffline]

Should e'er the fortune be my lotTo 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'sSt. 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 hisfavourite songs was C. Dibdin's ‘Lovely Nan,’ containing these two lines:

But oh, much sweeter than all theseIs 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 farceThe 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 braesAnd 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 Micawberwas 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 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:

[MIDI][Score to Lovely Peggy]Lovely Peggy, lovely Peggy,Lovely, lovely, lovely Peggy;The heav'ns should sound with echoes rungIn praise of lovely Peggy.

[MIDI][Score to Lovely Peggy]

Lovely Peggy, lovely Peggy,Lovely, lovely, lovely Peggy;The heav'ns should sound with echoes rungIn 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 thatthe Captain favoured—in spite of the mixture of names—was C. Dibdin's ‘Lovely Polly.’

LOVELY POLLY[MIDI][Score to Lovely Polly]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 warWith 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.

[MIDI][Score to Lovely Polly]

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 warWith 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 heprobably 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,’ saidthe 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, andEngland, 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. VaughanWilliams 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 tailorAnd 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!

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 Captainteaches 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.’

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.

‘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 findhim 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.[MIDI][Score to All's well]All's well, All's well;Above, below,All, all's well.

Sung by Mr. Braham and Mr. Charles Braham.

Music by Mr. Braham.

[MIDI][Score to All's well]

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'sHermit.

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.

Thedénouementoccurs 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.

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 hourI've seen my fondest hopes decay;I never loved a tree or flowerBut '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.’

‘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 sportto 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'sIrish 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 à 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;Ohthouhast been the causeOf 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.’

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 thecomplaints 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 daysWas to steal a few hours from Night, my dear!

It is evident that his song was ‘The Young May Moon,’ one of Moore'sIrish Melodies.

The young May moon is beaming, love,The glow-worm's lamp is gleaming, love,How sweet to roveThrough Morna's groveWhile 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 waysTo lengthen our daysIs to steal a few hours from the night, my dear!

The young May moon is beaming, love,The glow-worm's lamp is gleaming, love,How sweet to roveThrough Morna's groveWhile 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 waysTo lengthen our daysIs to steal a few hours from the night, my dear!

We first meet Silas Wegg in the fifth chapter ofOur 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.

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