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Title: Charles Dickens and Music
Author: Lightwood, James T.
Language: English
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Copyright Status: Not copyrighted in the United States. If you live elsewhere check the laws of your country before downloading this ebook. See comments about copyright issues at end of book.

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_First Edition, 1912_



For many years I have been interested in the various musical
references in Dickens' works, and have had the impression that
a careful examination of his writings would reveal an aspect of
his character hitherto unknown, and, I may add, unsuspected.
The centenary of his birth hastened a work long contemplated,
and a first reading (after many years) brought to light an
amount of material far in excess of what I anticipated, while a
second examination convinced me that there is, perhaps, no great
writer who has made a more extensive use of music to illustrate
character and create incident than Charles Dickens. From an
historical point of view these references are of the utmost
importance, for they reflect to a nicety the general condition
of ordinary musical life in England during the middle of the
last century. We do not, of course, look to Dickens for a
history of classical music during the period--those who want
this will find it in the newspapers and magazines; but for the
story of music in the ordinary English home, for the popular
songs of the period, for the average musical attainments of
the middle and lower classes (music was not the correct thing
amongst the 'upper ten'), we must turn to the pages of Dickens'
novels. It is certainly strange that no one has hitherto thought
of tapping this source of information. In and about 1887 the
papers teemed with articles that outlined the history of music
during the first fifty years of Victoria's reign; but I have
not seen one that attempted to derive first-hand information
from the sources referred to, nor indeed does the subject of
'Dickens and Music' ever appear to have received the attention
which, in my opinion, it deserves.

I do not profess to have chronicled _all_ the musical references,
nor has it been possible to identify every one of the numerous
quotations from songs, although I have consulted such excellent
authorities as Dr. Cummings, Mr. Worden (Preston), and Mr. J.
Allanson Benson (Bromley). I have to thank Mr. Frank Kidson, who,
I understand, had already planned a work of this description,
for his kind advice and assistance. There is no living writer
who has such a wonderful knowledge of old songs as Mr. Kidson,
a knowledge which he is ever ready to put at the disposal of
others. Even now there are some half-dozen songs which every
attempt to run to earth has failed, though I have tried to
'mole 'em out' (as Mr. Pancks would say) by searching through
some hundreds of song-books and some thousands of separate songs.

Should any of my readers be able to throw light on dark
places I shall be very glad to hear from them, with a view to
making the information here presented as complete and correct
as possible if another edition should be called for. May
I suggest to the Secretaries of our Literary Societies,
Guilds, and similar organizations that a pleasant evening
might be spent in rendering some of the music referred to by
Dickens. The proceedings might be varied by readings from his
works or by historical notes on the music. Many of the pieces
are still in print, and I shall be glad to render assistance in
tracing them. Perhaps this idea will also commend itself to the
members of the Dickens Fellowship, an organization with which
all lovers of the great novelist ought to associate themselves.

                                         JAMES T. LIGHTWOOD.
    _October, 1912._

    I truly love Dickens; and discern in the inner man of
    him a tone of real Music which struggles to express
    itself, as it may in these bewildered, stupefied
    and, indeed, very crusty and distracted days--better
    or worse!

                                          THOMAS CARLYLE.


    CHAP.                                             PAGE

      I.  DICKENS AS A MUSICIAN                          1

     II.  INSTRUMENTAL COMBINATIONS                     23

          (AND SOME HUMMERS)                            36

     IV.  VARIOUS INSTRUMENTS (_continued_)             56

      V.  CHURCH MUSIC                                  69

     VI.  SONGS AND SOME SINGERS                        83

    VII.  SOME NOTED SINGERS                           112

          LIST OF SONGS, &c., MENTIONED BY DICKENS     135

          INDEX OF MUSICAL INSTRUMENTS                 164

          INDEX OF CHARACTERS                          165

          GENERAL INDEX                                169

          DICKENS' CHARACTERS                          172


_With Abbreviations Used_

    _American Notes_                     1842       _A.N._
    _Barnaby Rudge_                      1841       _B.R._
    _Battle of Life_                     1848       _B.L._
    _Bleak House_                        1852-3     _B.H._
    _Chimes_                             1844       _Ch._
    _Christmas Carol_                    1843       _C.C._
    _Christmas Stories_                    --       _C.S._
    _Christmas Stories_--
          Dr. Marigold's Prescription    1865       _Dr. M._
          Going into Society             1855       _G.S._
          Holly Tree                     1855       _H.T._
          Mugby Junction                 1866       _M.J._
          Mrs. Lirriper's Lodgings       1863         --
          No Thoroughfare                1867       _N.T._
          Somebody's Luggage             1862       _S.L._
          Wreck of the Golden Mary       1856       _G.M._
    _Collected Papers_                     --       _C.P._
    _Cricket on the Hearth_              1845       _C.H._
    _Dombey & Son_                       1847-8     _D. & S._
    _David Copperfield_                  1849-50    _D.C._
    _Edwin Drood_                        1870       _E.D._
    _Great Expectations_                 1860-1     _G.E._
    _Hard Times_                         1854       _H.T._
    _Haunted House_                      1859         --
    _Haunted Man_                        1848       _H.M._
    _Holiday Romance_                      --       _H.R._
    _Little Dorrit_                      1855-6     _L.D._
    _Martin Chuzzlewit_                  1843-4     _M.C._
    _Master Humphrey's Clock_            1840-1     _M.H.C._
    _Mystery of Edwin Drood_             1870       _E.D._
    _Nicholas Nickleby_                  1838-9     _N.N._
    _Old Curiosity Shop_                 1840       _O.C.S._
    _Oliver Twist_                       1837-8     _O.T._
    _Our Mutual Friend_                  1864       _O.M.F._
    _Pickwick Papers_                    1836-7     _P.P._
    _Pictures from Italy_                1846       _It._
    _Reprinted Pieces_--
          Our Bore                       1852         --
          Our English Watering-Place     1851         --
          Our French Watering-Place      1854         --
          Our School                     1851         --
          Out of the Season              1856         --
    _Sketches by Boz_                    1835-6     _S.B._
          Characters                       --       _S.B.C._
          Our Parish                       --         --
          Scenes                           --       _S.B.S._
          Tales                            --       _S.B.T._
    _Sunday under Three Heads_           1836         --
    _Sketches of Young People_           1840         --
    _Sketches of Young Gentlemen_        1838         --
    _Tale of Two Cities, A_              1859         --
    _Uncommercial Traveller_             1860-9     _U.T._




The attempts to instil the elements of music into Charles
Dickens when he was a small boy do not appear to have been
attended with success. Mr. Kitton tells us that he learnt the
piano during his school days, but his master gave him up in
despair. Mr. Bowden, an old schoolfellow of the novelist's when
he was at Wellington House Academy, in Hampstead Road, says that
music used to be taught there, and that Dickens received lessons
on the violin, but he made no progress, and soon relinquished
it. It was not until many years after that he made his third
and last attempt to become an instrumentalist. During his
first transatlantic voyage he wrote to Forster telling him
that he had bought an accordion.

    The steward lent me one on the passage out, and I
    regaled the ladies' cabin with my performances. You
    can't think with what feelings I play 'Home, Sweet Home'
    every night, or how pleasantly sad it makes us.

On the voyage back he gives the following description of the
musical talents of his fellow passengers:

    One played the accordion, another the violin, and
    another (who usually began at six o'clock a.m.) the key
    bugle: the combined effect of which instruments, when
    they all played different tunes, in different parts
    of the ship, at the same time, and within hearing of
    each other, as they sometimes did (everybody being
    intensely satisfied with his own performance), was
    sublimely hideous.

He does not tell us whether he was one of the performers on
these occasions.

But although he failed as an instrumentalist he took
delight in hearing music, and was always an appreciative yet
critical listener to what was good and tuneful. His favourite
composers were Mendelssohn--whose _Lieder_ he was specially
fond of[1]--Chopin, and Mozart. He heard Gounod's _Faust_
whilst he was in Paris, and confesses to having been quite
overcome with the beauty of the music. 'I couldn't bear it,'
he says, in one of his letters, 'and gave in completely. The
composer must be a very remarkable man indeed.' At the same
time he became acquainted with Offenbach's music, and heard
_Orphée aux enfers_. This was in February, 1863. Here also he
made the acquaintance of Auber, 'a stolid little elderly man,
rather petulant in manner.' He told Dickens that he had lived
for a time at 'Stock Noonton' (Stoke Newington) in order to
study English, but he had forgotten it all. In the description
of a dinner in the _Sketches_ we read that

    The knives and forks form a pleasing accompaniment to
    Auber's music, and Auber's music would form a pleasing
    accompaniment to the dinner, if you could hear anything
    besides the cymbals.

He met Meyerbeer on one occasion at Lord John Russell's. The
musician congratulated him on his outspoken language on Sunday
observance, a subject in which Dickens was deeply interested,
and on which he advocated his views at length in the papers
entitled _Sunday under Three Heads_.

Dickens was acquainted with Jenny Lind, and he gives the
following amusing story in a letter to Douglas Jerrold, dated
Paris, February 14, 1847:

    I am somehow reminded of a good story I heard the
    other night from a man who was a witness of it and
    an actor in it. At a certain German town last autumn
    there was a tremendous _furore_ about Jenny Lind, who,
    after driving the whole place mad, left it, on her
    travels, early one morning. The moment her carriage
    was outside the gates, a party of rampant students who
    had escorted it rushed back to the inn, demanded to be
    shown to her bedroom, swept like a whirlwind upstairs
    into the room indicated to them, tore up the sheets,
    and wore them in strips as decorations. An hour or two
    afterwards a bald old gentleman of amiable appearance,
    an Englishman, who was staying in the hotel, came to
    breakfast at the _table d'hôte_, and was observed to be
    much disturbed in his mind, and to show great terror
    whenever a student came near him. At last he said, in
    a low voice, to some people who were near him at the
    table, 'You are English gentlemen, I observe. Most
    extraordinary people, these Germans. Students,
    as a body, raving mad, gentlemen!' 'Oh, no,' said
    somebody else: 'excitable, but very good fellows,
    and very sensible.' 'By God, sir!' returned the old
    gentleman, still more disturbed, 'then there's something
    political in it, and I'm a marked man. I went out for
    a little walk this morning after shaving, and while I
    was gone'--he fell into a terrible perspiration as he
    told it--'they burst into my bedroom, tore up my sheets,
    and are now patrolling the town in all directions with
    bits of 'em in their button-holes.' I needn't wind
    up by adding that they had gone to the wrong chamber.

It was Dickens' habit wherever he went on his Continental
travels to avail himself of any opportunity of visiting the
opera; and his criticisms, though brief, are always to the
point. He tells us this interesting fact about Carrara:

    There is a beautiful little theatre there, built of
    marble, and they had it illuminated that night in my
    honour. There was really a very fair opera, but it is
    curious that the chorus has been always, time out of
    mind, made up of labourers in the quarries, who don't
    know a note of music, and sing entirely by ear.

But much as he loved music, Dickens could never bear the
least sound or noise while he was studying or writing, and
he ever waged a fierce war against church bells and itinerant
musicians. Even when in Scotland his troubles did not cease,
for he writes about 'a most infernal piper practising under
the window for a competition of pipers which is to come off
shortly.' Elsewhere he says that he found Dover 'too bandy'
for him (he carefully explains he does not refer to its legs),
while in a letter to Forster he complains bitterly of the
vagrant musicians at Broadstairs, where he 'cannot write half
an hour without the most excruciating organs, fiddles, bells,
or glee singers.' The barrel-organ, which he somewhere calls
an 'Italian box of music,' was one source of annoyance, but
bells were his special aversion. 'If you know anybody at St.
Paul's,' he wrote to Forster, 'I wish you'd send round and ask
them not to ring the bell so. I can hardly hear my own ideas
as they come into my head, and say what they mean.' His bell
experiences at Genoa are referred to elsewhere (p. 57).

How marvellously observant he was is manifest in the numerous
references in his letters and works to the music he heard in
the streets and squares of London and other places. Here is
a description of Golden Square, London, W. (_N.N._):

    Two or three violins and a wind instrument from
    the Opera band reside within its precincts. Its
    boarding-houses are musical, and the notes of pianos
    and harps float in the evening time round the head of
    the mournful statue, the guardian genius of the little
    wilderness of shrubs, in the centre of the square....
    Sounds of gruff voices practising vocal music invade
    the evening's silence, and the fumes of choice tobacco
    scent the air. There, snuff and cigars and German
    pipes and flutes, and violins and violoncellos, divide
    the supremacy between them. It is the region of song
    and smoke. Street bands are on their mettle in Golden
    Square, and itinerant glee singers quaver involuntarily
    as they raise their voices within its boundaries.

We have another picture in the description of Dombey's house,

    the summer sun was never on the street but in the
    morning, about breakfast-time.... It was soon gone
    again, to return no more that day, and the bands of
    music and the straggling Punch's shows going after
    it left it a prey to the most dismal of organs and
    white mice.

_As a Singer_

Most of the writers about Dickens, and especially his personal
friends, bear testimony both to his vocal power and his love
of songs and singing. As a small boy we read of him and his
sister Fanny standing on a table singing songs, and acting them
as they sang. One of his favourite recitations was Dr. Watts'
'The voice of the sluggard,' which he used to give with great
effect. The memory of these words lingered long in his mind,
and both Captain Cuttle and Mr. Pecksniff quote them with
excellent appropriateness.

When he grew up he retained his love of vocal music, and showed
a strong predilection for national airs and old songs. Moore's
_Irish Melodies_ had also a special attraction for him. In
the early days of his readings his voice frequently used to
fail him, and Mr. Kitton tells us that in trying to recover
the lost power he would test it by singing these melodies to
himself as he walked about. It is not surprising, therefore,
to find numerous references to these songs, as well as to
other works by Moore, in his writings.

From a humorous account of a concert on board ship we gather
that Dickens possessed a tenor voice. Writing to his daughter
from Boston in 1867, he says:

    We had speech-making and singing in the saloon of the
    _Cuba_ after the last dinner of the voyage. I think I
    have acquired a higher reputation from drawing out the
    captain, and getting him to take the second in 'All's
    Well' and likewise in 'There's not in the wide world'[2]
    (your parent taking the first), than from anything
    previously known of me on these shores.... We also sang
    (with a Chicago lady, and a strong-minded woman from
    I don't know where) 'Auld Lang Syne,' with a tender
    melancholy expressive of having all four been united
    from our cradles. The more dismal we were, the more
    delighted the company were. Once (when we paddled i'
    the burn) the captain took a little cruise round the
    compass on his own account, touching at the Canadian
    Boat Song,[3] and taking in supplies at Jubilate, 'Seas
    between us braid ha' roared,' and roared like ourselves.

J.T. Field, in his _Yesterdays with Authors_, says: 'To hear him
sing an old-time stage song, such as he used to enjoy in his
youth at a cheap London theatre ... was to become acquainted
with one of the most delightful and original companions in
the world.'

When at home he was fond of having music in the evening. His
daughter tells us that on one occasion a member of his family
was singing a song while he was apparently deep in his book,
when he suddenly got up and saying 'You don't make enough of
that word,' he sat down by the piano and showed how it should
be sung.

On another occasion his criticism was more pointed.

    One night a gentleman visitor insisted on singing
    'By the sad sea waves,' which he did vilely, and he
    wound up his performance by a most unexpected and
    misplaced embellishment, or 'turn.' Dickens found the
    whole ordeal very trying, but managed to preserve a
    decorous silence till this sound fell on his ear, when
    his neighbour said to him, 'Whatever did he mean by
    that extraneous effort of melody?' 'Oh,' said Dickens,
    'that's quite in accordance with rule. When things
    are at their worst they always take a _turn_.'

Forster relates that while he was at work on the _Old Curiosity
Shop_ he used to discover specimens of old ballads in his
country walks between Broadstairs and Ramsgate, which so
aroused his interest that when he returned to town towards
the end of 1840 he thoroughly explored the ballad literature
of Seven Dials,[4] and would occasionally sing not a few of
these wonderful discoveries with an effect that justified
his reputation for comic singing in his childhood. We get a
glimpse of his investigations in _Out of the Season_, where
he tells us about that 'wonderful mystery, the music-shop,'
with its assortment of polkas with coloured frontispieces, and
also the book-shop, with its 'Little Warblers and Fairburn's
Comic Songsters.'

    Here too were ballads on the old ballad paper and
    in the old confusion of types, with an old man in a
    cocked hat, and an armchair, for the illustration
    to Will Watch the bold smuggler, and the Friar of
    Orders Grey, represented by a little girl in a hoop,
    with a ship in the distance. All these as of yore,
    when they were infinite delights to me.

On one of his explorations he met a landsman who told him
about the running down of an emigrant ship, and how he heard
a sound coming over the sea 'like a great sorrowful flute or
Aeolian harp.' He makes another and very humorous reference to
this instrument in a letter to Landor, in which he calls to mind

    that steady snore of yours, which I once heard piercing
    the door of your bedroom ... reverberating along the
    bell-wire in the hall, so getting outside into the
    street, playing Aeolian harps among the area railings,
    and going down the New Road like the blast of a trumpet.

The deserted watering-place referred to in _Out of the Season_
is Broadstairs, and he gives us a further insight into its
musical resources in a letter to Miss Power written on July 2,
1847, in which he says that

    a little tinkling box of music that stops at 'come'
    in the melody of the Buffalo Gals, and can't play 'out
    to-night,' and a white mouse, are the only amusements
    left at Broadstairs.

'Buffalo Gals' was a very popular song 'Sung with great
applause by the Original Female American Serenaders.' (_c._
1845.) The first verse will explain the above allusion:

    As I went lum'rin' down de street, down de street,
    A 'ansom gal I chanc'd to meet, oh, she was fair to view.
    Buffalo gals, can't ye come out to-night, come out to-night,
            come out to-night;
    Buffalo gals, can't ye come out to-night, and dance by the
            light of the moon.

We find some interesting musical references and memories in
the novelist's letters. Writing to Wilkie Collins in reference
to his proposed sea voyage, he quotes Campbell's lines from
'Ye Mariners of England':

    As I sweep
    Through the deep
    When the stormy winds do blow.

There are other references to this song in the novels. I have
pointed out elsewhere that the last line also belongs to a
seventeenth-century song.

Writing to Mark Lemon (June, 1849) he gives an amusing parody of

    Lesbia hath a beaming eye,


    Lemon is a little hipped.

In a letter to Maclise he says:

    My foot is in the house,
      My bath is on the sea,
    And before I take a souse,
      Here's a single note to thee.

These lines are a reminiscence of Byron's ode to Tom Moore,
written from Venice on July 10, 1817:

    My boat is on the shore,
      And my bark is on the sea,
    But before I go, Tom Moore,
      Here's a double health to thee!

The words were set to music by Bishop. This first verse had a
special attraction for Dickens, and he gives us two or three
variations of it, including a very apt one from Dick Swiveller
(see p. 126).

Henry F. Chorley, the musical critic, was an intimate friend
of Dickens. On one occasion he went to hear Chorley lecture on
'The National Music of the World,' and subsequently wrote him
a very friendly letter criticizing his delivery, but speaking
in high terms of the way he treated his subject.

In one of his letters he makes special reference to the
singing of the Hutchinson family.[5] Writing to the Countess
of Blessington, he says:

    I must have some talk with you about these American
    singers. They must never go back to their own country
    without your having heard them sing Hood's 'Bridge
    of Sighs.'

Amongst the distinguished visitors at Gad's Hill was Joachim,
who was always a welcome guest, and of whom Dickens once said
'he is a noble fellow.' His daughter writes in reference to
this visit:

    I never remember seeing him so wrapt and absorbed as
    he was then, on hearing him play; and the wonderful
    simplicity and _un_-self-consciousness of the genius
    went straight to my father's heart, and made a fast
    bond of sympathy between those two great men.

_In Music Drama_

Much has been written about Dickens' undoubted powers as
an actor, as well as his ability as a stage manager, and
it is well known that it was little more than an accident
that kept him from adopting the dramatic profession. He ever
took a keen interest in all that pertained to the stage, and
when he was superintending the production of a play he was
always particular about the musical arrangements. There is in
existence a play-bill of 1833 showing that he superintended a
private performance of _Clari_. This was an opera by Bishop,
and contains the first appearance of the celebrated 'Home, Sweet
Home,' a melody which, as we have already said, he reproduced
on the accordion some years after. He took the part of Rolano,
but had no opportunity of showing off his singing abilities,
unless he took a part in the famous glee 'Sleep, gentle lady,'
which appears in the work as a quartet for alto, two tenors,
and bass, though it is now arranged in other forms.

In his dealings with the drama Dickens was frequently his
own bandmaster and director of the music. For instance, in
_No Thoroughfare_ we find this direction: 'Boys enter and
sing "God Save the Queen" (or any school devotional hymn).'
At Obenreizer's entrance a 'mysterious theme is directed
to be played,' that gentleman being 'well informed, clever,
and a good musician.'

Dickens was concerned in the production of one operetta--_The
Village Coquettes_--for which he wrote the words, and John
Hullah composed the music. It consists of songs, duets, and
concerted pieces, and was first produced at St. James's Theatre,
London, on December 6, 1836. The following year it was being
performed at Edinburgh when a fire broke out in the theatre,
and the instrumental scores together with the music of the
concerted pieces were destroyed. No fresh copy was ever made,
but the songs are still to be obtained. Mr. Kitton, in his
biography of the novelist, says, 'The play was well received,
and duly praised by prominent musical journals.'

The same writer gives us to understand that Hullah originally
composed the music for an opera called _The Gondolier_, but
used the material for _The Village Coquettes_. Braham, the
celebrated tenor, had a part in it. Dickens says in a letter to
Hullah that he had had some conversation with Braham about the
work. The singer thought very highly of it, and Dickens adds:

    His only remaining suggestion is that Miss
    Rainforth[6] will want another song when the piece is
    in rehearsal--'a bravura--something in "The soldier
    tired" way.'

We have here a reference to a song which had a long run of
popularity. It is one of the airs in Arne's _Artaxerxes_,
an opera which was produced in 1761, and which held the
stage for many years. There is a reference to this song in
_Sketches by Boz_, when Miss Evans and her friends visited
the Eagle. During the concert 'Miss Somebody in white satin'
sang this air, much to the satisfaction of her audience.

Dickens wrote a few songs and ballads, and in most cases he
fell in with the custom of his time, and suggested the tune
(if any) to which they were to be sung. In addition to those
that appear in the various novels, there are others which
deserve mention here.

In 1841 he contributed three political squibs in verse to
the _Examiner_, one being the 'Quack Doctor's Proclamation,'
to the tune of 'A Cobbler there was,' and another called
'The fine old English Gentleman.'

For the _Daily News_ (of which he was the first editor) he
wrote 'The British Lion, a new song but an old story,' which
was to be sung to the tune of the 'Great Sea Snake.' This was
a very popular comic song of the period, which described a
sea monster of wondrous size:

    One morning from his head we bore
      With every stitch of sail,
    And going at ten knots an hour
      In six months came to his tail.

Three of the songs in the _Pickwick Papers_ (referred to
elsewhere) are original, while Blandois' song in _Little
Dorrit_, 'Who passes by this road so late,' is a translation
from the French. This was set to music by R.S. Dalton.

In addition to these we find here and there impromptu lines
which have no connexion with any song. Perhaps the best known
are those which 'my lady Bowley' quotes in _The Chimes_,
and which she had 'set to music on the new system':

    Oh let us love our occupations,
    Bless the squire and his relations,
    Live upon our daily rations,
    And always know our proper stations.

The reference to the 'new system' is not quite obvious. Dickens
may have been thinking of the 'Wilhem' method of teaching
singing which his friend Hullah introduced into England, or it
may be a reference to the Tonic Sol-fa system, which had already
begun to make progress when _The Chimes_ was written in 1844.[7]

There are some well-known lines which owners of books were
fond of writing on the fly-leaf in order that there might be
no mistake as to the name of the possessor. The general form
was something like this:

    John Wigglesworth is my name,
      And England is my nation;
    London is my dwelling-place,
      And Christ is my salvation.

(See _Choir_, Jan., 1912, p. 5.) Dickens gives us at least
two variants of this. In _Edwin Drood_, Durdles says of the
Mayor of Cloisterham:

    Mister Sapsea is his name,
      England is his nation,
    Cloisterham's his dwelling-place,
      Aukshneer's his occupation.

And Captain Cuttle thus describes himself, ascribing the
authorship of the words to Job--but then literary accuracy
was not the Captain's strong point:

    Cap'en Cuttle is my name,
      And England is my nation,
    This here is my dwelling-place,
      And blessed be creation.

It is said that there appeared in the _London Singer's Magazine_
for 1839 'The Teetotal Excursion, an original Comic Song by
Boz, sung at the London Concerts,' but it is not in my copy
of this song-book, nor have I ever seen it.

Dickens was always very careful in his choice of names and
titles, and the evolution of some of the latter is very
interesting. One of the many he conceived for the magazine
which was to succeed _Household Words_ was _Household Harmony_,
while another was _Home Music_. Considering his dislike of
bells in general, it is rather surprising that two other
suggestions were _English Bells_ and _Weekly Bells_, but the
final choice was _All the Year Round_. Only once does he make
use of a musician's name in his novels, and that is in _Great
Expectations_. Philip, otherwise known as Pip, the hero, becomes
friendly with Herbert Pocket. The latter objects to the name
Philip, 'it sounds like a moral boy out of a spelling-book,'
and as Pip had been a blacksmith and the two youngsters were
'harmonious,' Pocket asks him:

    'Would you mind Handel for a familiar name? There's
    a charming piece of music, by Handel, called the
    "Harmonious Blacksmith."'

    'I should like it very much.'

Dickens' only contribution to hymnology appeared in the _Daily
News_ February 14, 1846, with the title 'Hymn of the Wiltshire
Labourers.' It was written after reading a speech at one of
the night meetings of the wives of agricultural labourers in
Wiltshire, held with the object of petitioning for Free Trade.
This is the first verse:

    O God, who by Thy Prophet's hand
      Did'st smite the rocky brake,
    Whence water came at Thy command
      Thy people's thirst to slake,
    Strike, now, upon this granite wall,
      Stern, obdurate, and high;
    And let some drop of pity fall
      For us who starve and die!

We find the fondness for Italian names shown by vocalists and
pianists humorously parodied in such self-evident forms as
Jacksonini, Signora Marra Boni, and Billsmethi. Banjo Bones is
a self-evident _nom d'occasion_, and the high-sounding name of
Rinaldo di Velasco ill befits the giant Pickleson (_Dr. M._),
who had a little head and less in it. As it was essential that
the Miss Crumptons of Minerva House should have an Italian
master for their pupils, we find Signer Lobskini introduced,
while the modern rage for Russian musicians is to some extent
anticipated in Major Tpschoffki of the Imperial Bulgraderian
Brigade (_G.S._). His real name, if he ever had one, is said
to have been Stakes.

Dickens has little to say about the music of his time, but in
the reprinted paper called _Old Lamps for New Ones_ (written in
1850), which is a strong condemnation of pre-Raphaelism in art,
he attacks a similar movement in regard to music, and makes
much fun of the Brotherhood. He detects their influence in
things musical, and writes thus:

    In Music a retrogressive step in which there is much
    hope, has been taken. The P.A.B., or pre-Agincourt
    Brotherhood, has arisen, nobly devoted to consign to
    oblivion Mozart, Beethoven, Handel, and every other
    such ridiculous reputation, and to fix its Millennium
    (as its name implies) before the date of the first
    regular musical composition known to have been achieved
    in England. As this institution has not yet commenced
    active operations, it remains to be seen whether the
    Royal Academy of Music will be a worthy sister of the
    Royal Academy of Art, and admit this enterprising body
    to its orchestra. We have it, on the best authority,
    that its compositions will be quite as rough and
    discordant as the real old original.

Fourteen years later he makes use of a well-known phrase in
writing to his friend Wills (October 8, 1864) in reference to
the proofs of an article.

    I have gone through the number carefully, and have
    been down upon Chorley's paper in particular, which
    was a 'little bit' too personal. It is all right now
    and good, and them's my sentiments too of the Music
    of the Future.[8]

Although there was little movement in this direction when
Dickens wrote this, the paragraph makes interesting reading
nowadays in view of some musical tendencies in certain quarters.

[1]  In his speech at Birmingham on 'Literature and Art'
     (1853) he makes special reference to the 'great music
     of Mendelssohn.'

[2]  Moore's _Irish Melodies_.

[3]  Moore.

[4]  'Seven Dials! the region of song and poetry--first
     effusions and last dying speeches: hallowed by the
     names of Catnac and of Pitts, names that will entwine
     themselves with costermongers and barrel-organs, when
     penny magazines shall have superseded penny yards of
     song, and capital punishment be unknown!' (_S.B.S._ 5.)

[5]  The 'Hutchinson family' was a musical troupe composed of
     three sons and two daughters selected from the 'Tribe of
     Jesse,' a name given to the sixteen children of Jesse
     and Mary Hutchinson, of Milford, N.H. They toured in
     England in 1845 and 1846, and were received with great
     enthusiasm. Their songs were on subjects connected
     with Temperance and Anti-Slavery. On one occasion
     Judson, one of the number, was singing the 'Humbugged
     Husband,' which he used to accompany with the fiddle,
     and he had just sung the line 'I'm sadly taken in,'
     when the stage where he was standing gave way and he
     nearly disappeared from view. The audience at first
     took this as part of the performance.

[6]  Miss Rainforth was the soloist at the first production
     of Mendelssohn's 'Hear my Prayer.' (See _The Choir_,
     March, 1911.)

[7]  John Curwen published his _Grammar of Vocal Music_
     in 1842.

[8]  Quoted in Mr. R.C. Lehmann's _Dickens as an Editor_




Dickens' orchestras are limited, both in resources and in the
number of performers; in fact, it would be more correct to
call them combinations of instruments. Some of them are of
a kind not found in modern works on instrumentation, as, for
instance, at the party at Trotty Veck's (_Ch._) when a 'band of
music' burst into the good man's room, consisting of a drum,
marrow-bones and cleavers, and bells, 'not _the_ bells but a
portable collection on a frame.' We gather from Leech's picture
that other instrumentalists were also present. Sad to relate,
the drummer was not quite sober, an unfortunate state of things,
certainly, but not always confined to the drumming fraternity,
since in the account of the Party at Minerva House (_S.B.T._)
we read that amongst the numerous arrivals were 'the pianoforte
player and the violins: the harp in a state of intoxication.'

We have an occasional mention of a theatre orchestra, as,
for instance, when the Phenomenon was performing at Portsmouth

    'Ring in the orchestra, Grudden.'

    That useful lady did as she was requested, and shortly
    afterwards the tuning of three fiddles was heard,
    which process, having been protracted as long as it
    was supposed that the patience of the orchestra could
    possibly bear it, was put a stop to by another jerk of
    the bell, which, being the signal to begin in earnest,
    set the orchestra playing a variety of popular airs
    with involuntary variations.

On one occasion Dickens visited Vauxhall Gardens by day, where
'a small party of dismal men in cocked hats were "executing"
the overture to _Tancredi_,' but he does not, unfortunately,
give us any details about the number or kind of instruments
employed. This would be in 1836, when the experiment of day
entertainments was given a trial, and a series of balloon
ascents became the principal attraction. Forster tells us
that Dickens was a frequent visitor at the numerous gardens
and places of entertainment which abounded in London, and
which he knew better than any other man. References will
be found elsewhere to the music at the Eagle (p. 47) and the
White Conduit Gardens (p. 93).

_Violin and Kit._

We meet with but few players on the violin, and it is usually
mentioned in connexion with other instruments, though it was to
the strains of a solitary fiddle that Simon Tappertit danced a
hornpipe for the delectation of his followers, while the same
instrument supplied the music at the Fezziwig's ball.

    In came a fiddler with a music-book, and went up to
    the lofty desk, and made an orchestra of it, and tuned
    like fifty stomach-aches.

The orchestra at the 'singing-house' provided for Jack's
amusement when ashore (_U.T._ 5) consisted of a fiddle and
tambourine; while at dances the instruments were fiddles
and harps. It was the harps that first aroused Mr. Jingle's
curiosity, as he met them being carried up the staircase
of The Bull at Rochester, while, shortly after, the tuning
of both harps and fiddles inspired Mr. Tupman with a strong
desire to go to the ball. Sometimes the orchestra is a little
more varied. At the private theatricals which took place at
Mrs. Gattleton's (_S.B.T._ 9), the selected instruments were
a piano, flute, and violoncello, but there seems to have been
a want of proper rehearsal.

    Ting, ting, ting! went the prompter's bell at eight
    o'clock precisely, and dash went the orchestra into
    the overture to the _Men of Prometheus_. The pianoforte
    player hammered away with laudable perseverance, and the
    violoncello, which struck in at intervals, sounded very
    well, considering. The unfortunate individual, however,
    who had undertaken to play the flute accompaniment
    'at sight' found, from fatal experience, the perfect
    truth of the old adage, 'Out of sight, out of mind';
    for being very near-sighted, and being placed at
    a considerable distance from his music-book, all he
    had an opportunity of doing was to play a bar now and
    then in the wrong place, and put the other performers
    out. It is, however, but justice to Mr. Brown to
    say that he did this to admiration. The overture,
    in fact, was not unlike a race between the different
    instruments; the piano came in first by several bars,
    and the violoncello next, quite distancing the poor
    flute; for the deaf gentleman _too-too'd_ away, quite
    unconscious that he was at all wrong, until apprised,
    by the applause of the audience, that the overture
    was concluded.

It was probably after this that the pianoforte player fainted
away, owing to the heat, and left the music of _Masaniello_ to
the other two. There were differences between these remaining
musicians and Mr. Harleigh, who played the title rôle, the
orchestra complaining that 'Mr. Harleigh put them out, while the
hero declared that the orchestra prevented his singing a note.'

It was to the strains of a wandering harp and fiddle that Marion
and Grace Jeddler danced 'a trifle in the Spanish style,'
much to their father's astonishment as he came bustling out
to see who 'played music on his property before breakfast.'

The little fiddle commonly known as a 'kit' that dancing-masters
used to carry in their capacious tail coat pockets was much more
in evidence in the middle of last century than it is now. Caddy
Jellyby (_B.H._), after her marriage to a dancing-master,
found a knowledge of the piano and the kit essential, and so
she used to practise them assiduously. When Sampson Brass
hears Kit's name for the first time he says to Swiveller:

    'Strange name--name of a dancing-master's fiddle,
    eh, Mr. Richard?'

We must not forget the story of a fine young Irish gentleman,
as told by the one-eyed bagman to Mr. Pickwick and his friends,

    being asked if he could play the fiddle, replied he
    had no doubt he could, but he couldn't exactly say
    for certain, because he had never tried.


Mr. Morfin (_D. & S._), 'a cheerful-looking, hazel-eyed elderly
bachelor,' was

    a great musical amateur--in his way--after business,
    and had a paternal affection for his violoncello, which
    was once in every week transported from Islington,
    his place of abode, to a certain club-room hard by
    the Bank, where quartets of the most tormenting and
    excruciating nature were executed every Wednesday
    evening by a private party.

His habit of humming his musical recollections of these
evenings was a source of great annoyance to Mr. James Carker,
who devoutly wished 'that he would make a bonfire of his
violoncello, and burn his books with it.' There was only a thin
partition between the rooms which these two gentlemen occupied,
and on another occasion Mr. Morfin performed an extraordinary
feat in order to warn the manager of his presence.

    I have whistled, hummed tunes, gone accurately through
    the whole of Beethoven's Sonata in B, to let him know
    that I was within hearing, but he never heeded me.

This particular sonata has not hitherto been identified.

It is comforting to know that the fall of the House of Dombey
made no difference to Mr. Morfin, who continued to solace
himself by producing 'the most dismal and forlorn sounds
out of his violoncello before going to bed,' a proceeding
which had no effect on his deaf landlady, beyond producing
'a sensation of something rumbling in her bones.'

Nor were the quartet parties interfered with. They came round
regularly, his violoncello was in good tune, and there was
nothing wrong in _his_ world. Happy Mr. Morfin!

Another 'cellist was the Rev. Charles Timson, who, when
practising his instrument in his bedroom, used to give strict
orders that he was on no account to be disturbed.

It was under the pretence of buying 'a second-hand wiolinceller'
that Bucket visited the house of the dealer in musical instruments
in order to effect the arrest of Mr. George (_B.H._).


The harp was a fashionable drawing-room instrument in the
early Victorian period, although the re-introduction of
the guitar temporarily detracted from its glory. It was
also indispensable in providing music for dancing-parties
and concerts. When Esther Summerson went to call on the
Turveydrops (_B.H._) she found the hall blocked up with a
grand piano, a harp, and various other instruments which had
been used at a concert. As already stated, it was the sight
of these instruments being carried up the stairs at The Bull
in Rochester that aroused Mr. Jingle's curiosity (_P.P._)
and led to the discovery that a ball was in prospect.

We must not forget the eldest Miss Larkins, one of David
Copperfield's early, fleeting loves. He used to wander up and
down outside the home of his beloved and watch the officers
going in to hear Miss L. play the harp. On hearing of her
engagement to one of these he mourned for a very brief period,
and then went forth and gloriously defeated his old enemy
the butcher boy. What a contrast between this humour and the
strange scene in the drawing-room at James Steerforth's home
after Rosa Dartle had sung the strange weird Irish song to
the accompaniment of her harp! And how different, again, the
scene in the home of Scrooge's nephew (_C.C._) when, after tea,
'they had some music.'

    Scrooge's niece played well upon the harp; and played,
    among other things, a simple little air.

It reminded Scrooge of a time long past.

    He softened more and more; and thought that if he
    could have listened to it often, years ago, he might
    have cultivated the kindnesses of life for his own
    happiness with his own hand.

Little Paul Dombey told Lady Skettles at the breaking-up party
that he was very fond of music, and he was very, very proud of
his sister's accomplishments both as player and singer. Did they
inherit this love from their father? 'You are fond of music,'
said the Hon. Mrs. Skewton to Mr. Dombey during an interval
in a game of picquet. 'Eminently so,' was the reply. But the
reader must not take him at his word. When Edith (the future
Mrs. Dombey) entered the room and sat down to her harp,

    Mr. Dombey rose and stood beside her, listening. He
    had little taste for music, and no knowledge of the
    strain she played; but he saw her bending over it,
    and perhaps he heard among the sounding strings some
    distant music of his own.

Yet when she went to the piano and commenced to sing Mr. Dombey
did not know that it was 'the air that his neglected daughter
sang to his dead son'!


Lady musicians are numerous, and of very varied degrees of
excellence. Amongst the pianists is Miss Teresa Malderton, who
nearly fell a prey to that gay deceiver Mr. Horatio Sparkins
(_S.B.T._ 5). Her contribution to a musical evening was
'The Fall of Paris,' played, as Mr. Sparkins declared, in a
masterly manner.

There was a song called 'The Fall of Paris,' but it is most
probable that Dickens was thinking of a very popular piece
which he must have often heard in his young days, of which
the full title was

    THE SURRENDER OF PARIS. A characteristic Divertimento
    for the Pianoforte, including the events from the Duke
    of Wellington and Prince Blucher's marching to that
    capital to the evacuation by the French troops and
    taking possession by the Allies, composed by Louis
    Jansen, 1816.

Not the least curious section of this piece of early programme
music is a _moderato_ recording the various articles of the
capitulation. These are eighteen in number, and each has
its own 'theme.' The interspersion of some discords seems to
imply serious differences of opinion between the parties to
the treaty.

There was also a song called 'The Downfall of Paris,' the
first verse of which was

    Great news I have to tell you all,
      Of Bonaparte and a' that;
    How Paris it has got a fall,
      He's lost his plans and a' that.


    Rise up, John Bull, rise up and sing,
      Your chanter loudly blaw that;
    Lang live our auld and worthy king,
      Success to Britain, a' that.

The instrument beloved of Miss Tox (_D. & S._) was the
harpsichord, and her favourite piece was the 'Bird Waltz,' while
the 'Copenhagen Waltz' was also in her repertoire. Two notes of
the instrument were dumb from disuse, but their silence did not
impoverish the rendering. Caddy Jellyby found it necessary to
know something of the piano, in order that she might instruct
the 'apprentices' at her husband's dancing-school. Another
performer was Mrs. Namby, who entertained Mr. Pickwick with
solos on a square piano while breakfast was being prepared. When
questioned by David Copperfield as to the gifts of Miss Sophy
Crewler, Traddles explained that she knew enough of the piano
to teach it to her little sisters, and she also sang ballads to
freshen up her family a little when they were out of spirits,
but 'nothing scientific.' The guitar was quite beyond her. David
noted with much satisfaction (though he did not say so) that
his Dora was much more gifted musically.

When Dickens wrote his earlier works it was not considered
the correct thing for a gentleman to play the piano, though
it might be all very well for the lower classes and the music
teacher. Consequently we read of few male performers on the
instrument. Mr. Skimpole could play the piano, and of course
Jasper had a 'grand' in his room at Cloisterham.

At one time, if we may believe the turnkey at the Marshalsea
prison, William Dorrit had been a pianist, a fact which raised
him greatly in the turnkey's opinion.

    Brought up as a gentleman, he was, if ever a man was.
    Educated at no end of expense. Went into the Marshal's
    house once to try a new piano for him. Played it,
    I understand, like one o'clock--beautiful.

In the _Collected Papers_ we have a picture of the 'throwing
off young gentleman,' who strikes a note or two upon the piano,
and accompanies it correctly (by dint of laborious practice)
with his voice. He assures

    a circle of wondering listeners that so acute was his
    ear that he was wholly unable to sing out of tune,
    let him try as he would.

Mr. Weller senior laid a deep plot in which a piano was to
take a prominent part. His object was to effect Mr. Pickwick's
escape from the Fleet.

    Me and a cab'net-maker has dewised a plan for
    gettin' him out. 'A pianner, Samivel, a pianner,'
    said Mr. Weller, striking his son on the chest with
    the back of his hand, and falling back a step or two.

    'Wot do you mean?' said Sam.

    'A pianner-forty, Samivel,' rejoined Mr. Weller, in a
    still more mysterious manner, 'as he can have on hire;
    vun as von't play, Sammy.'

    'And wot 'ud be the good of that?' said Sam.

    'There ain't no vurks in it,' whispered his father. 'It
    'ull hold him easy, vith his hat and shoes on; and
    breathe through the legs, vich is holler.'

But the usually dutiful Sam showed so little enthusiasm for
his father's scheme that nothing more was heard of it.





We find several references to the flute, and Dickens contrives
to get much innocent fun out of it. First comes Mr. Mell,
who used to carry his instrument about with him and who, in
response to his mother's invitation to 'have a blow at it'
while David Copperfield was having his breakfast, made, said
David, 'the most dismal sounds I have ever heard produced
by any means, natural or artificial.' After he had finished
he unscrewed his flute into three pieces, and deposited them
underneath the skirts of his coat.

Dickens' schoolmasters seem to have been partial to the
flute. Mr. Squeers, it is true, was not a flautist, but
Mr. Feeder, B.A., was, or rather he was going to be. When
little Paul Dombey visited his tutor's room he saw 'a flute
which Mr. Feeder couldn't play yet, but was going to make a
point of learning, he said, hanging up over the fireplace.'

He also had a beautiful little curly second-hand 'key bugle,'
which was also on the list of things to be accomplished on
some future occasion, in fact he has unlimited confidence in
the power and influence of music. Here is his advice to the
love-stricken Mr. Toots, whom he recommends to

    learn the guitar, or at least the flute; for women
    like music when you are paying your addresses to 'em,
    and he has found the advantage of it himself.

The flute was the instrument that Mr. Richard Swiveller took
to when he heard that Sophy Wackles was lost to him for ever,

    thinking that it was a good, sound, dismal occupation,
    not only in unison with his own sad thoughts, but
    calculated to awaken a fellow feeling in the bosoms
    of his neighbours.

So he got out his flute, arranged the light and a small
oblong music-book to the best advantage, and began to play
'most mournfully.'

    The air was 'Away with Melancholy,' a composition which,
    when it is played very slowly on the flute, in bed,
    with the further disadvantage of being performed
    by a gentleman but imperfectly acquainted with the
    instrument, who repeats one note a great many times
    before he can find the next, has not a lively effect.

So Mr. Swiveller spent half the night or more over this pleasing
exercise, merely stopping now and then to take breath and
soliloquize about the Marchioness; and it was only after he
'had nearly maddened the people of the house, and at both the
next doors, and over the way,' that he shut up the book and
went to sleep. The result of this was that the next morning
he got a notice to quit from his landlady, who had been in
waiting on the stairs for that purpose since the dawn of day.

Jack Redburn, too (_M.H.C._), seems to have found consolation
in this instrument, spending his wet Sundays in 'blowing a
very slow tune on the flute.'

There is one, and only one, recorded instance of this very
meek instrument suddenly asserting itself by going on strike,
and that is in the sketch entitled _Private Theatres_ (_S.B.S._
13), where the amateurs take so long to dress for their parts
that 'the flute says he'll be blowed if he plays any more.'

We must on no account forget the serenade with which the
gentlemen boarders proposed to honour the Miss Pecksniffs. The
performance was both vocal and instrumental, and the description
of the flute-player is delightful.

    It was very affecting, very. Nothing more dismal could
    have been desired by the most fastidious taste.... The
    youngest gentleman blew his melancholy into a flute. He
    didn't blow much out of it, but that was all the better.

After a description of the singing we have more about the flute.

    The flute of the youngest gentleman was wild and
    fitful. It came and went in gusts, like the wind. For
    a long time together he seemed to have left off, and
    when it was quite settled by Mrs. Todgers and the
    young ladies that, overcome by his feelings, he had
    retired in tears, he unexpectedly turned up again at
    the very top of the tune, gasping for breath. He was
    a tremendous performer. There was no knowing where to
    have him; and exactly when you thought he was doing
    nothing at all, then was he doing the very thing that
    ought to astonish you most.

Yet another performer is the domestic young gentleman (_C.P._)
who holds skeins of silk for the ladies to wind, and who then

    brings down his flute in compliance with a request
    from the youngest Miss Gray, and plays divers tunes
    out of a very small book till supper-time.

When Nancy went to the prison to look for Oliver Twist, she
found nobody in durance vile except a man who had been taken
up for playing the flute, and who was bewailing the loss of
the same, which had been confiscated for the use of the county.

The gentleman who played the violoncello at Mrs. Gattleton's
party has already been referred to, and it only remains to
mention Mr. Evans, who 'had such lovely whiskers' and who
played the flute on the same occasion, to bring the list of
players to an end.


We meet with a remarkable musician in _Dombey and Son_ in
the person of Harriet Carker's visitor, a scientific one,
according to the description:

    A certain skilful action of his fingers as he hummed
    some bars, and beat time on the seat beside him,
    seemed to denote the musician; and the extraordinary
    satisfaction he derived from humming something very
    slow and long, which had no recognizable tune, seemed
    to denote that he was a scientific one.

A less capable performer was Sampson Brass, who hummed

    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.'

Musicians of various degrees abound in the _Sketches_. Here is
Mr. Wisbottle, whistling 'The Light Guitar' at five o'clock
in the morning, to the intense disgust of Mr. John Evenson,
a fellow boarder at Mrs. Tibbs'. Subsequently he came down to
breakfast in blue slippers and a shawl dressing-gown, whistling
'Di piacer.' Mr. Evenson can no longer control his feelings,
and threatens to start the triangle if his enemy will not stop
his early matutinal music. A suggested name for this whistler
is the 'humming-top,' from his habit of describing semi-circles
on the piano stool, and 'humming most melodiously.' There are
a number of characters who indulge in the humming habit either
to cover their confusion, or as a sign of light-heartedness and
contentment. Prominent amongst these are Pecksniff, who, like
Morfin, hums melodiously, and Micawber, who can both sing and
hum. Nor must we omit to mention Miss Petowker, who 'hummed a
tune' as her contribution to the entertainment at Mrs. Kenwigs'
party. Many of the characters resort to humming to conceal
their temporary discomfiture, and perhaps no one ever hummed
under more harassing circumstances than when Mr. Pecksniff had
to go to the door to let in some very unwelcome guests, who
had already knocked several times. But he was a past master
in the art of dissimulation. He is particularly anxious to
conceal from his visitors the fact that Jonas Chuzzlewit is
in the house. So he says to the latter--

    'This may be a professional call. Indeed I am pretty
    sure it is. Thank you.' Then Mr. Pecksniff, gently
    warbling a rustic stave, put on his garden hat, seized
    a spade, and opened the street door; calmly appearing
    on the threshold as if he thought he had, from his
    vineyard, heard a modest rap, but was not quite certain.

Then he tells his visitors 'I do a little bit of Adam still.'
He certainly had a good deal of the old Adam in him.


The clarionet is associated with the fortunes of Mr. Frederick
Dorrit, who played the instrument at the theatre where his
elder niece was a dancer, and where Little Dorrit sought an
engagement. After the rehearsal was over she and her sister
went to take him home.

    He had been in that place six nights a week for many
    years, but had never been observed to raise his eyes
    above his music-book.... The carpenters had a joke
    that he was dead without being aware of it.

At the theatre he had no part in what was going on except the
part written for the clarionet. In his young days his house
had been the resort of singers and players. When the fortunes
of the family changed his clarionet was taken away from him, on
the ground that it was a 'low instrument.' It was subsequently
restored to him, but he never played it again.

Of quite a different stamp was one of the characters in
_Going into Society_, who played the clarionet in a band at
a Wild Beast Show, and played it all wrong. He was somewhat
eccentric in dress, as he had on 'a white Roman shirt and a
bishop's mitre covered with leopard skin.' We are told nothing
about him, except that he refused to know his old friends. In
his story of the _Seven Poor Travellers_ Dickens found the
clarionet-player of the Rochester Waits so communicative that
he accompanied the party across an open green called the Vines,

    and assisted--in the French sense--at the performance
    of two waltzes, two polkas, and three Irish melodies.


A notable bassoon player was Mr. Bagnet, who had a voice
somewhat resembling his instrument. The ex-artilleryman
kept a little music shop in a street near the Elephant and
Castle. There were

    a few fiddles in the window, and some Pan's pipes and
    a tambourine, and a triangle, and certain elongated
    scraps of music.

It was to this shop that Bucket the detective came under
the pretence of wanting a second-hand 'wiolinceller' (see
p. 29). In the course of conversation it turns out that Master
Bagnet (otherwise 'Woolwich') 'plays the fife beautiful,'
and he performs some popular airs for the benefit of his
audience. Mr. Bucket also claims to have played the fife
himself when a boy, 'not in a scientific way, but by ear.'


Two references to the bagpipes deserve notice. One is in
_David Copperfield_, where the novelist refers to his own
early experiences as a shorthand reporter. He has no high
opinion of the speeches he used to take down.

    One joyful night, therefore, I noted down the music
    of the parliamentary bagpipes for the last time, and
    I have never heard it since; though I still recognize
    the old drone in the newspapers.

In _O.M.F._ (II.) we read of Charley Hexam's fellow pupils
keeping themselves awake

    by maintaining a monotonous droning noise, as if they
    were performing, out of time and tune, on a ruder sort
    of bagpipe.

The peculiar subdued noise caused by a lot of children in a
school is certainly suggestive of the instrument.


Little is said about the trombone. We are told, in reference
to the party at Dr. Strong's (_D.C._), that the good Doctor
knew as much about playing cards as he did about 'playing the
trombone.' In 'Our School' (_R.P._) we are told a good deal
about the usher who 'made out the bills, mended the pens,
and did all sorts of things.'

    He was rather musical, and on some remote quarter-day
    had bought an old trombone; but a bit of it was lost,
    and it made the most extraordinary sounds when he
    sometimes tried to play it of an evening.

In a similarly dismembered state was the flute which Dickens
once saw in a broker's shop. It was 'complete with the exception
of the middle joint.'

This naturally calls to mind the story of the choir librarian
who was putting away the vocal parts of a certain funeral
anthem. After searching in vain for two missing numbers he
was obliged to label the parcel

    'His body is buried in peace.' Two parts missing.


The references to the organ are both numerous and interesting,
and it is pretty evident that this instrument had a great
attraction for Dickens. The gentle Tom Pinch (_M.C._), whom
Gissing calls 'a gentleman who derives his patent of gentility
direct from God Almighty,' first claims our attention. He used
to play the organ at the village church 'for nothing.' It was a
simple instrument, 'the sweetest little organ you ever heard,'
provided with wind by the action of the musician's feet,
and thus Tom was independent of a blower, though he was so
beloved that

    there was not a man or boy in all the village and
    away to the turnpike (tollman included) but would have
    blown away for him till he was black in the face.

What a delight it must have been to him to avail himself of
the opportunity to play the organ in the cathedral when he
went to meet Martin!

    As the grand tones resounded through the church they
    seemed, to Tom, to find an echo in the depth of every
    ancient tomb, no less than in the deep mystery of his
    own heart.

And he would have gone on playing till midnight 'but for a
very earthy verger,' who insisted on locking up the cathedral
and turning him out.

On one occasion, while he was practising at the church, the
miserable Pecksniff entered the building and, hiding behind
a pew, heard the conversation between Tom and Mary that led
to the former being dismissed from the architect's office,
so he had to leave his beloved organ, and mightily did the
poor fellow miss it when he went to London! Being an early
riser, he had been accustomed to practise every morning,
and now he was reduced to taking long walks about London,
a poor substitute indeed!

Nor was the organ the only instrument that he could play,
for we read how he would spend half his nights poring over the
'jingling anatomy of that inscrutable old harpsichord in the
back parlour,' and amongst the household treasures that he
took to London were his music and an old fiddle.

The picture which forms our frontispiece shows Tom Pinch playing
his favourite instrument. At the sale of the original drawings
executed by 'Phiz' for _Martin Chuzzlewit_ this frontispiece,
which is an epitome of the salient characters and scenes in
the novel, was sold for £35.

We read in _Christmas Stories_ that

    Silas Jorgan
    Played the organ,

but we are not told the name of the artist who at the concert
at the Eagle (_S.B.C._ 4) accompanied a comic song on the
organ--and such an organ!

    Miss J'mima Ivins's friend's young man whispered it
    had cost 'four hundred pound,' which Mr. Samuel Wilkins
    said was 'not dear neither.'

The singer was probably either Howell or Glindon. Dickens
appears to have visited the Eagle Tavern in 1835 or 1836. It
was then a notable place of entertainment consisting of gardens
with an orchestra, and the 'Grecian Saloon,' which was furnished
with an organ and a 'self-acting piano.' Here concerts were
given every evening, which in Lent took a sacred turn, and
consisted of selections from Handel and Mozart. In 1837 the
organ was removed, and a new one erected by Parsons.

The Eagle gained a wide reputation through its being introduced
into a once popular song.

    Up and down the City Road,
      In and out the Eagle,
    That's the way the money goes,
      Pop goes the weasel.

This verse was subsequently modified (for nursery purposes)

    Half a pound of tuppenny rice,
      Half a pound of treacle,
    That's the way the money goes,[9]
      Pop goes the weasel.

Many explanations have been given of 'weasel.' Some say
it was a purse made of weasel skin; others that it was a
tailor's flat-iron which used to be pawned (or 'popped')
to procure the needful for admission to the tavern. A third
(and more intelligible) suggestion is that the line is simply
a catch phrase, without any meaning.

There is a notable reference to the organ in _Little
Dorrit_. Arthur Clennam goes to call on old Frederick Dorrit,
the clarionet player, and is directed to the house where he
lived. 'There were so many lodgers in this house that the
door-post seemed to be as full of bell handles as a cathedral
organ is of stops,' and Clennam hesitates for a time, 'doubtful
which might be the clarionet stop.'

Further on in the same novel we are told that it was the organ
that Mrs. Finching was desirous of learning.

    I have said ever since I began to recover the blow of
    Mr. F's death that I would learn the organ of which
    I am extremely fond but of which I am ashamed to say
    I do not yet know a note.

The following fine description of the tones of an organ occurs
in _The Chimes_:

    The organ sounded faintly in the church below. Swelling
    by degrees the melody ascended to the roof, and filled
    the choir and nave. Expanding more and more, it rose
    up, up; up, up; higher, higher, higher up; awakening
    agitated hearts within the burly piles of oak, the
    hollow bells, the iron-bound doors, the stairs of
    solid stone; until the tower walls were insufficient
    to contain it, and it soared into the sky.

The effect of this on Trotty Veck was very different from that
which another organ had on the benevolent old lady we read of
in _Our Parish_. She subscribed £20 towards a new instrument
for the parish church, and was so overcome when she first
heard it that she had to be carried out by the pew-opener.

There are various references to the organs in the City churches,
and probably the description of one of them given in _Dombey
and Son_ would suit most instruments of the period.

    The organ rumbled and rolled as if it had got the
    colic, for want of a congregation to keep the wind
    and damp out.


In real life the barrel-organ was a frequent source of annoyance
to Dickens, who found its ceaseless strains very trying when
he was busy writing, and who had as much trouble in evicting
the grinders as David Copperfield's aunt had with the donkeys.

However, he takes a very mild revenge on this deservedly
maligned instrument in his works, and the references are, as
usual, of a humorous character. A barrel-organ formed a part of
the procession to celebrate the election of Mr. Tulrumble[10]
as Mayor of Mudfog, but the player put on the wrong stop,
and played one tune while the band played another.

This instrument had an extraordinary effect on Major Tpschoffki,
familiarly and more easily known as 'Chops,' the dwarf,
'spirited but not proud,' who was desirous of 'Going into
Society' (_G.S._), and who had got it into his head that he
was entitled to property:

    His ideas respectin' his property never come upon him so
    strong as when he sat upon a barrel-organ, and had the
    handle turned. Arter the wibration had run through him
    a little time he would screech out, 'Toby, I feel my
    property coming--grind away! I'm counting my guineas
    by thousands, Toby--grind away! Toby, I shall be a
    man of fortun! I feel the Mint a-jingling in me, Toby,
    and I'm swelling out into the Bank of England.' Such
    is the influence of music on a poetic mind.

Dickens found the streets in New York very different from
those in London, and specially remarks how quiet they were--no
itinerant musicians or showmen of any kind. He could only
remember hearing one barrel-organ with a dancing-monkey.
'Beyond that, nothing lively, no, not so much as a white mouse
in a twirling cage.'

We must not forget that he has two references to pipe organs
in his _American Notes_. When he visited the Blind School at
Boston he heard a voluntary played on the organ by one of the
pupils, while at St. Louis he was informed that the Jesuit
College was to be supplied with an organ sent from Belgium.

The barrel-organ brings to mind Jerry and his troupe of
dancing-dogs (_O.C.S._), especially the unfortunate animal who
had lost a halfpenny during the day, and consequently had to
go without his supper. In fact, his master made the punishment
fit the crime; for, having set the stop, he made the dog play
the organ while the rest had their evening meal.

    When the knives and forks rattled very much, or any
    of his fellows got an unusually large piece of fat,
    he accompanied the music with a short howl; but he
    immediately checked it on his master looking round
    and applied himself with increased diligence to the
    Old Hundredth.

In _Dombey and Son_ there is a very apt comparison of
Mr. Feeder, B.A., to this instrument. He was Doctor Blimber's
assistant master, and was entrusted with the education of
little Paul.

    Mr. Feeder, B.A. ... was a kind of human barrel-organ
    with a little list of tunes at which he was continually
    working, over and over again, without any variation. He
    might have been fitted up with a change of barrels,
    perhaps, in early life, if his destiny had been
    favourable, but it had not been.

So he had only one barrel, his sole occupation being
to 'bewilder the young ideas of Dr. Blimber's young
gentlemen.' Sometimes he had his Virgil stop on, and at other
times his Herodotus stop. In trying to keep up the comparison,
however, Dickens makes a curious mistake. In the above quotation
Feeder is assigned one barrel only, while in Chapter XLI we
are told that he had 'his other barrels on a shelf behind him.'

We find another comparison in _Little Dorrit_, when the
long-suffering Pancks turns round on Casby, his employer,
and exposes his hypocrisy. Pancks, who has had much difficulty
in getting his master's rents from the tenants, makes up his
mind to leave him; and before doing so he tells the whole truth
about Casby to the inhabitants of Bleeding Heart Yard. 'Here's
the Stop,' said Pancks, 'that sets the tune to be ground. And
there is but one tune, and its name is "Grind! Grind! Grind!"'


Although the guitar was a fashionable instrument sixty
years ago, there are but few references to it. This was the
instrument that enabled the three Miss Briggses, each of them
performers, to eclipse the glory of the Miss Tauntons, who could
only manage a harp. On the eventful day of 'The Steam Excursion'
(_S.B._) the three sisters brought their instruments, carefully
packed up in dark green cases,

    which were carefully stowed away in the bottom of the
    boat, accompanied by two immense portfolios of music,
    which it would take at least a week's incessant playing
    to get through.

At a subsequent stage of the proceedings they were asked to
play, and after replacing a broken string, and a vast deal of
screwing and tightening, they gave 'a new Spanish composition,
for three voices and three guitars,' and secured an encore,
thus completely overwhelming their rivals. In the account of
the _French Watering-Place_ (_R.P._) we read about a guitar
on the pier, 'to which a boy or woman sings without any voice
little songs without any tune.'

On one of his night excursions in the guise of an 'Uncommercial
Traveller' Dickens discovered a stranded Spaniard, named
Antonio. In response to a general invitation 'the swarthy youth'
takes up his cracked guitar and gives them the 'feeblest ghost
of a tune,' while the inmates of the miserable den kept time
with their heads.

Dora used to delight David Copperfield by singing enchanting
ballads in the French language and accompanying herself 'on a
glorified instrument, resembling a guitar,' though subsequent
references show it was that instrument and none other.

We read in _Little Dorrit_ that Young John Chivery wore
'pantaloons so highly decorated with side stripes, that each
leg was a three-stringed lute.' This appears to be the only
reference to this instrument, and a lute of three strings is the
novelist's own conception, the usual number being about nine.

[9]  Or, 'Mix it up and make it nice.'

[10] _The Public Life of Mr. Tulrumble_, 1837.



Many musical instruments and terms are mentioned by way of
illustration. Blathers, the Bow Street officer (_O.T._),
plays carelessly with his handcuffs as if they were a pair of
castanets. Miss Miggs (_B.R._) clanks her pattens as if they
were a pair of cymbals. Mr. Bounderby (_H.T._), during his
conversation with Harthouse,

    with his hat in his hand, gave a beat upon the crown
    at every division of his sentences, as if it were
    a tambourine;

and in the same work the electric wires rule 'a colossal strip
of music-paper out of the evening sky.'

Perhaps the most extraordinary comparison is that instituted
by Mrs. Lirriper in reference to her late husband.

    My poor Lirriper was a handsome figure of a man,
    with a beaming eye and a voice as mellow as a musical
    instrument made of honey and steel.

What a vivid imagination the good woman had! Her descriptive
powers remind us of those possessed by Mrs. Gamp in speaking
of the father of the mysterious Mrs. Harris.

    As pleasant a singer, Mr. Chuzzlewit, as ever you heerd,
    with a voice like a Jew's-harp in the bass notes.

There are many humorous references to remarkable performances on
various instruments more or less musical in their nature. During
the election at Eatanswill the crier performed two concertos
on his bell, and shortly afterwards followed them up with a
fantasia on the same instrument. Dickens suffered much from
church bells, and gives vent to his feelings about them in
_Little Dorrit_, where he says that

    Maddening church bells of all degrees of dissonance,
    sharp and flat, cracked and clear, fast and slow,
    made the brick-and-mortar echoes hideous.

In his _Pictures from Italy_ he wrote thus:

    At Genoa the bells of the church ring incessantly,
    not in peals, or any known form of sound, but in
    horrible, irregular, jerking dingle, dingle, dingle;
    with a sudden stop at every fifteenth dingle or so,
    which is maddening.... The noise is supposed to be
    particularly obnoxious to evil spirits.

But it was these same bells, which he found so maddening,
that inspired him with the title of a well-known story. He
had chosen a subject, but was at a loss for a name. As he sat
working one morning there suddenly rose up from Genoa

    the clang and clash of all its steeples, pouring into
    his ears, again and again, in a tuneless, grating,
    discordant jerking, hideous vibration that made his
    ideas spin round and round till they lost themselves
    in a whirl of vexation and giddiness, and dropped
    down dead.... Only two days later came a letter in
    which not a syllable was written but 'We have heard
    THE CHIMES at midnight, Master Shallow,' and I knew
    he had discovered what he wanted.[11]

Yet, in spite of all this, Dickens shows--through his
characters--a deep interest in bells and bell-lore. Little Paul
Dombey finds a man mending the clocks at Dr. Blimber's Academy,
and asks a multitude of questions about chimes and clocks;
as, whether people watched up in the lonely church steeples
by night to make them strike, and how the bells were rung
when people died, and whether those were different bells from
wedding-bells, or only sounded dismal in the fancies of the
living; and then the precocious small boy proceeds to give
the astonished clockmaker some useful information about King
Alfred's candles and curfew-bells.

As Smike and Nicholas tramp their long journey to Portsmouth
they hear the sheep-bells tinkling on the downs. To Tom Pinch
journeying Londonwards 'the brass work on the harness was a
complete orchestra of little bells.'

What a terror the bells are to Jonas Chuzzlewit just before
he starts on his evil journey! He hears

    the ringers practising in a neighbouring church, and
    the clashing of their bells was almost maddening. Curse
    the clamouring bells! they seemed to know that he
    was listening at the door, and to proclaim it in a
    crowd of voices to all the town! Would they never be
    still? They ceased at last, and then the silence was
    so new and terrible that it seemed the prelude to some
    dreadful noise.

The boom of the bell is associated with many of the villains
of the novels. Fagin hears it when under sentence of death.
Blackpool and Carker hear the accusing bells when in the midst
of planning their evil deeds.

We can read the characters of some by the way they ring a
bell. The important little Mr. Bailey, when he goes to see his
friend Poll Sweedlepipe (_M.C._) 'came in at the door with
a lunge, to get as much sound out of the bell as possible,'
while Bob Sawyer gives a pull as if he would bring it up by
the roots. Mr. Clennam pulls the rope with a hasty jerk,
and Mr. Watkins Tottle with a faltering jerk, while Tom Pinch
gives a gentle pull. And how angry Mr. Mantalini is with
Newman Noggs because he keeps him

    'ringing at this confounded old cracked tea-kettle
    of a bell, every tinkle of which is enough to throw
    a strong man into convulsions, upon my life and
    soul,--oh demmit.'

The introduction of electric bells has been a great trial to
those who used to vent their wrath on the wire-pulled article
or the earlier bell-rope, which used not infrequently to add
unnecessary fuel by coming incontinently down on the head of
the aggrieved one. What a pull the fierce gentleman must have
given whose acquaintance Mr. Pickwick made when he was going
to Bath! He had been kept waiting for his buttered toast,
so he (Captain Dowler)

    rang the bell with great violence, and told the waiter
    he'd better bring the toast in five seconds, or he'd
    know the reason why.

Dickens rang far more changes on the bells than there is space
to enumerate; but I have shown to what extent he makes their
sound a commentary on innumerable phases of life. A slight
technical knowledge of bell phraseology is found in _Barnaby
Rudge_ (7), where he mentions the variations known as a
'triple bob major.' Finally there is an interesting reference
in _Master Humphrey's Clock_ to a use of the bell which has
now passed into history. Belinda says in a postscript to a
letter to Master Humphrey, 'The bellman, rendered impatient
by delay, is ringing dreadfully in the passage'; while in a
second PS. she says, 'I open this to say the bellman is gone,
and that you must not expect it till the next post.'

In the old days it was the custom for the letter-carriers to
collect letters by ringing a bell.

There is no doubt that a most extraordinary, certainly a
most original, musical effect is that secured by Mr. George
(_B.H._), who had just finished smoking.

    'Do you know what that tune is, Mr. Smallweed?' he adds,
    after breaking off to whistle one, accompanied on the
    table with the empty pipe.

    'Tune,' replies the old man. 'No, we never have
    tunes here.'

    'That's the "Dead March" in _Saul_. They bury soldiers
    to it, so it's the natural end of the subject.'

Surely a highly original way of bringing a conversation to
a close!

This march is referred to in _Our Mutual Friend_, where
Mr. Wilfer suggests that going through life with Mrs. Wilfer
is like keeping time to the 'Dead March' in _Saul_, from
which singular simile we may gather that this lady was not
the liveliest of companions.

Several other instruments are casually mentioned. Mr. Hardy
(_S.B.T._ 7) was a master of many accomplishments.

    He could sing comic songs, imitate hackney coachmen
    and fowls, play airs on his chin, and execute concertos
    on the Jew's harp.

The champion 'chin' performer of the early Victorian period
was Michael Boai, 'The celebrated chin melodist,' who was
announced to perform 'some of his admired pieces' at many
of the places of entertainment. There is another reference
to this extraordinary way of producing music in _Sketches by
Boz_, where Mrs. Tippin performed an air with variations on the
guitar, 'accompanied on the chin by Master Tippin.' To return
to Mr. Hardy, this gentleman was evidently deeply interested
in all sorts and degrees of music, but he got out of his depth
in a conversation with the much-travelled Captain Helves. After
the three Miss Briggses had finished their guitar performances,
Mr. Hardy approached the Captain with the question, 'Did you
ever hear a Portuguese tambourine?'

    'Did _you_ ever hear a tom-tom, sir?' sternly inquired
    the Captain, who lost no opportunity of showing off
    his travels, real or pretended.

    'A what?' asked Hardy, rather taken aback.

    'A tom-tom.'


    'Nor a gum-gum?'


    'What _is_ a gum-gum?' eagerly inquired several
    young ladies.

The question is unanswered to this day, though Hardy afterwards
suggests it is another name for a humbug.

When Dickens visited the school where the half-time system
was in force, he found the boys undergoing military and naval
drill. A small boy played the fife while the others went
through their exercises. After that a boys' band appeared,
the youngsters being dressed in a neat uniform. Then came
a choral class, who sang 'the praises of a summer's day to
a harmonium.' In the arithmetical exercises the small piper
excels (_U.T._ 29).

    Wise as the serpent is the four feet of performer on
    the nearest approach to that instrument.

This was written when the serpent was practically extinct, but
Dickens would be very familiar with the name of the instrument,
and may have seen and heard it in churches in his younger days.

In referring to another boy's attempt at solving the
arithmetical puzzles, he mentions the cymbals, combined with
a faint memory of St. Paul.

    I observe the player of the cymbals to dash at a
    sounding answer now and then rather than not cut in at
    all; but I take that to be in the way of his instrument.

In _Great Expectations_ Mr. Wopsle, who is a parish clerk
by profession, had an ambition not only to tread the boards,
but to start off as Hamlet. His appearance was not a success,
and the audience was derisive.

    On his taking the recorders--very like a little black
    flute that had just been played in the orchestra and
    handed out at the door--he was called upon unanimously
    for 'Rule Britannia.'

Reference has already been made to Bucket's music-shop,
so we must not forget to visit Caleb Plummer's little room,
where there were

    scores of melancholy little carts which, when the
    wheels went round, performed most doleful music. Many
    small fiddles, drums, and other instruments of torture.

The old man made a rude kind of harp specially for his poor
blind daughter, and on which Dot used to play when she visited
the toy-maker's. Caleb's musical contribution would be 'a
Bacchanalian song, something about a sparkling bowl,' which
much annoyed his grumpy employer.

    'What! you're singing, are you?' said Tackleton, putting
    his head in at the door. 'Go it, _I_ can't sing.'

    Nobody would have suspected him of it. He hadn't what
    is generally termed a singing face, by any means.

The wonderful duet between the cricket and the kettle at the
commencement of _The Cricket on the Hearth_ certainly deserves
mention, though it is rather difficult to know whether to
class the performers as instrumentalists or singers. The kettle
began it with a series of short vocal snorts, which at first
it checked in the bud, but finally it burst into a stream of
song, 'while the lid performed a sort of jig, and clattered
like a deaf and dumb cymbal that had never known the use of its
twin brother.' Then the cricket came in with its chirp, chirp,
chirp, and at it they went in fierce rivalry until 'the kettle,
being dead beat, boiled over, and was taken off the fire.'

Dickens was certainly partial to the cricket, for elsewhere
(_M.H.C._) we read of the clock that

    makes cheerful music, like one of those chirping
    insects who delight in the warm hearth.

There are two or three references to the key bugle, which
also used to be known as the Kent bugle. It was a popular
instrument half a century ago, as the addition of keys gave
it a much greater range of notes than the ordinary bugle
possessed. A notable though inefficient performer was the
driver who took Martin Chuzzlewit up to London.

    He was musical, besides, and had a little key bugle in
    his pocket on which, whenever the conversation flagged,
    he played the first part of a great many tunes, and
    regularly broke down in the second.

This instrument was on Mr. Feeder's _agenda_.

Two more instruments demand our attention. At the marriage
of Tackleton and May Fielding (_C.H._) there were to be
marrow-bones and cleavers, while to celebrate the union of
Trotty Veck's daughter Meg and Richard they had a band including
the aforesaid instruments and also the drum and the bells. It
was formerly the custom for butchers' assistants to provide
themselves with marrow-bones and cleavers for musical effects.
Each cleaver was ground so that when it was struck with the
bone it emitted a certain note.[12] A complete band would
consist of eight men, with their cleavers so tuned as to give
an octave of notes. After more or less practice they would
offer their services as bandsmen on the occasion of marriage
ceremonies, which they had a wonderful faculty for locating,
and they would provide music (of a kind) _ad libitum_ until the
requisite fee was forthcoming. If their services were declined
the butchers would turn up all the same, and make things very
unpleasant for the marriage party. The custom dates from the
eighteenth century, and though it has gradually fallen into
disuse a marrow-bone and cleaver band is still available in
London for those who want it. A band took part in a wedding
ceremony at Clapham as recently as the autumn of 1911.

The following extract, referring to the second marriage of
Mr. Dombey, shows what bridal parties had to put up with in
the good old days:

    The men who play the bells have got scent of the
    marriage; and the marrow-bones and cleavers too;
    and a brass band too. The first are practising in
    a back settlement near Battle-bridge[13]; the second
    put themselves in communication, through their chief,
    with Mr. Tomlinson, to whom they offer terms to be
    bought off; and the third, in the person of an artful
    trombone, lurks and dodges round the corner, waiting
    for some traitor-tradesman to reveal the place and
    hour of breakfast, for a bribe.

Other instruments casually referred to are the Pan's pipes,
which in one place is also called a mouth-organ (_S.B.S._ 20),
the flageolet, and the triangle. It is difficult to classify
the walking-stick on which Mr. Jennings Rudolph played tunes
before he went behind the parlour door and gave his celebrated
imitations of actors, edgetools, and animals (_S.B.C._ 8).

[11] Forster, _Life of Charles Dickens._

[12] This is rather a modern development.

[13] Near King's Cross Station (G.N.R.).



Dickens has not much to say about church music as such, but the
references are interesting, inasmuch as they throw some light
upon it during the earlier years of his life. In _Our Parish_
(_S.B._) we read about the old naval officer who

    finds fault with the sermon every Sunday, says that the
    organist ought to be ashamed of himself, and offers to
    back himself for any amount to sing the psalms better
    than all the children put together.

This reminds us that during the first half of last century,
and indeed later in many places, the church choir as we know
it did not exist, and the leading of the singing was entrusted
to the children of the charity school under the direction of
the clerk, a custom which had existed since the seventeenth
century. The chancel was never used for the choir, and the
children sat up in the gallery at the west end, on either side
of the organ. In a City church that Dickens attended the choir
was limited to two girls. The organ was so out of order that
he could 'hear more of the rusty working of the stops than of
any music.' When the service began he was so depressed that,
as he says,

    I gave but little heed to our dull manner of ambling
    through the service; to the brisk clerk's manner of
    encouraging us to try a note or two at psalm time;
    to the gallery congregation's manner of enjoying a
    shrill duet, without a notion of time or tune; to the
    whity-brown man's manner of shutting the minister into
    the pulpit, and being very particular with the lock
    of the door, as if he were a dangerous animal.

Elsewhere he found in the choir gallery an 'exhausted
charity school' of four boys and two girls. The congregations
were small, a state of things which at any rate satisfied
Mrs. Lirriper, who had a pew at St. Clement Danes and was
'partial to the evening service not too crowded.'

In _Sunday under Three Heads_ we have a vivid picture of the
state of things at a fashionable church. Carriages roll up,
richly dressed people take their places and inspect each other
through their glasses.

    The organ peals forth, the hired singers commence a
    short hymn, and the congregation condescendingly rise,
    stare about them and converse in whispers.

Dickens passes from church to chapel. Here, he says,

    the hymn is sung--not by paid singers, but by the
    whole assembly at the loudest pitch of their voices,
    unaccompanied by any musical instrument, the words
    being given out, two lines at a time, by the clerk.

It cannot be said that, as far as the music is concerned,
either of these descriptions is exaggerated when we remember
the time at which they were written (1838). Very few chapels
in London had organs, or indeed instruments of any kind, and
there is no doubt that the congregations, as a rule, _did_
sing at the tops of their voices, a proceeding known under
the more euphonious title of 'hearty congregational singing.'

He gives a far more favourable account of the music in the
village church. In the essay just referred to he mentions
the fact that he attended a service in a West of England
church where the service 'was spoken--not merely read--by a
grey-headed minister.'

    The psalms were accompanied by a few instrumental
    performers, who were stationed in a small gallery
    extending across the church at the lower end; and the
    voices were led by the clerk, who, it was evident,
    derived no slight pride and gratification from this
    portion of the service.

But if the church music in England was not of a very high
quality when Dickens wrote the above, it was, according to his
own account, far superior to what he heard in certain churches
in Italy. When in Rome he visited St. Peter's, where he was
quite unimpressed by the music.

    I have been infinitely more affected in many English
    cathedrals when the organ has been playing, and in
    many English country churches when the congregation
    have been singing.

On another occasion he attended church at Genoa on a feast day,
and he writes thus about the music:

    The organ played away lustily, and a full band did the
    like; while a conductor, in a little gallery opposite
    the band, hammered away on the desk before him, with a
    scroll, and a tenor, without any voice, sang. The band
    played one way, the organ played another, the singer
    went a third, and the unfortunate conductor banged and
    banged, and flourished his scroll on some principle
    of his own; apparently well satisfied with the whole
    performance. I never did hear such a discordant din.

_Parish Clerks_

We have but few references to parish clerks in the
novels. Mr. Wopsle (_G.E._)--whom Mr. Andrew Lang calls 'one
of the best of Dickens' minor characters'--'punished the Amens
tremendously,'[14] and when he gave out the psalms--always
giving the whole verse--he looked all round the congregation
first, as much as to say 'You have heard our friend overhead;
oblige me with your opinion of this style.' This gentleman
subsequently became a 'play-actor,' but failed to achieve
the success he desired. Solomon Daisy (_B.R._) is bell-ringer
and parish clerk of Chigwell, though we hear nothing of his
exploits in these capacities. However, he must have been a
familiar figure to the villagers as he stood in his little desk
on the Sunday, giving out the psalms and leading the singing,
because when in the rifled and dismantled Maypole he appeals to
the poor witless old Willet as to whether he did not know him--

    'You know us, don't you, Johnny?' said the little
    clerk, rapping himself on the breast. 'Daisy, you
    know--Chigwell Church--bell-ringer--little desk on
    Sundays--eh, Johnny?'

    Mr. Willet reflected for a few moments, and then
    muttered as it were mechanically: 'Let us sing to the
    praise and glory of--'

    'Yes, to be sure,' cried the little man hastily,
    'that's it, that's me, Johnny.'

Besides the numerous body of more or less distinguished artists
whom the novelist introduces to us and whose achievements
are duly set forth in these pages, there are two others whose
connexion with Cloisterham gives them a prominent position in
our list. One of these is the Rev. Mr. Crisparkle (_E.D._),
Minor Canon of Cloisterham:

    early riser, musical, classical, cheerful, kind,
    good-natured, social, contented, and boy-like.

What a contrast to the Stiggins and Chadband type! He is a
member of the 'Alternate Musical Wednesdays' Society, and
amongst his lesser duties is that of corrector-in-chief of
the un-Dean-like English of the cathedral verger.

    It is Mr. Crisparkle's custom to sit up last of the
    early household, very softly touching his piano and
    practising his parts in concerted vocal music.

Over a closet in his dining-room, where occasional refreshments
were kept,

    a portrait of Handel in a flowing wig beamed down at
    the spectator, with a knowing air of being up to the
    contents of the closet, and a musical air of intending
    to combine all its harmonies in one delicious fugue.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


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

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

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

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

is certainly not lacking in originality.

_Hymns and Hymn-Tunes_

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

    In books, or work or healthful play[16]

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

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

which is far from the good Doctor's meaning.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[16] From the poem on _Industry_.



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

I.--_National Songs_

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

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

No wonder he finally went to sleep over them!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

II.--_Songs from 1780-1840_

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

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

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

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

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

though he omitted the last two lines:

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

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

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

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

    [Figure 1]

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

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

III.--_Contemporary Comic Songs_

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

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

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

  1.--'All the World's a Stage,' a popular medley written by
      Mr. L. Rede, and sung by Mrs. Kelley in the _Frolic
      of the Fairies_.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


    _Words by J. Beuler._       _Accompaniment by J. Clinton._

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Amongst the contents of the shop window at the watering-place
referred to in _Out of the Season_ was

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

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

    [Figure 2]

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

_Some Singers_

In the _Pickwick Papers_ we have at least three original
poems. Wardle's carol--

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Topper, who had his eye on one of Scrooge's niece's sisters

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

    [Figure 3] or [Figure 4]

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


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

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

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

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

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

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

In _Our Bore_ (_R.P._) this sentence occurs:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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



_The Micawbers_

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

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

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

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

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


    [Figure 5]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He confesses his ignorance as to what gowans are,

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

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

    For England, home, and beauty.

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

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

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

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

_Captain Cuttle_

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

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

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

Then comes this tuneful refrain:

    [Figure 6]

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

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


    [Figure 7]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

In conversation with his friend Bunsby, Cuttle says--

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

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

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

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

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

    How does that tune go that the sailors sing?

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

    Here the Captain roared in chorus,

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

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

_Dick Swiveller_

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

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

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

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

    'What do you mean?'

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

    'I never have any,' said the lodger.

    'Or in case anybody should call.'

    'Nobody ever calls on me.'

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

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

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

The following extract illustrates the 'shake':


    _Sung by Mr. Braham and Mr. Charles Braham._

                                        _Music by Mr. Braham._
    [Figure 8]

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

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

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

From this he passes to

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


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

which is his own variant of

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

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

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

and he subsequently adds--

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

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

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

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

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

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


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

This is from Ann Taylor's nursery song, which has probably
been more parodied than any other poem in existence. There is
a French version by Madame 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;
    Oh _thou_ hast been the cause
      Of this anguish--my mother.

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

_Teachers and Composers_

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

_Silas Wegg's Effusions_

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

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

Book I, Ch. 5.

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

                                               _Alexander Lee_

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

Book I, Ch. 15.

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

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

Book I, Ch. 15.

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

                                                    _J. Parry_

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

Book I, Ch. 15.

'Weep for the hour.' From 'Eveleen's Bower'         _T. Moore_

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

Book I, Ch 15.

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

                                                   _C. Dibdin_

Book II, Ch. 7.

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


Book III, Ch. 6.

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

                                   Words by _Mrs. E. Hamilton_

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

Book III, Ch. 6.

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

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

Book III, Ch. 6.

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

From Scott's _Marmion_.

Book IV, Ch. 3.

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

                                                    _T. Moore_

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



_The figures in brackets denote the chapter in the novel
referred to_


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

The melody appeared in _Beggar's Opera_, 1728, and _Fashionable
Lady_, 1730.


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

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

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


See 'Yet Lov'd I.'


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


See 'Black-Eyed Susan.'

ALL'S WELL (_O.C.S._ 56).

See p. 125.

Duet in _The English Fleet_.

(_T. Dibdin_)                                     _J. Braham._

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


Words by _Susan Blamire_.

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

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


See p. 134.


From 'The Sailor's Consolation.'

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

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

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

Words by _Burns_.

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

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

AWAY WITH MELANCHOLY (_O.C.S._ 58, _O.M.F._ ii. 6, _P.P._ 44,
_D.C._ 8)

The melody is from Mozart's _Magic Flute_, 'Das klinget
so herrlich'--a chorus with glockenspiel accompaniment.
The writer of the words is unknown.

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

BAY OF BISCAY (_U.T._ 31, _D. & S._ 39, _P.P._ 32)

Words by _Andrew Cherry_.                           _J. Davy._

Also see under 'A Frog He Would.'


See p. 28.

BEGONE, DULL CARE (_O.C.S._ 7, _E.D._ 2)

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

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

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


A parody on the following.


Words by _T. Moore_.

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


See p. 133.


Words adapted from Shakespeare's _Venus and Adonis_.

                                                _H.R. Bishop._

BIRD WALTZ (_D. & S._ 29, 38)

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


Words by _John Gay_.                           _R. Leveridge._

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


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




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


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

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

BUFFALO GALS (_Letters_)

See p. 10.

                                            _Julius Benedict._

A once popular song from the opera _The Brides of Venice_.


Words by _Charles Mackay_.                    _Henry Russell._

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

One of Russell's most popular songs. He sold the copyright for
£3, and shortly afterwards learnt that the publisher had to
keep thirty-nine presses at work on it night and day to meet
the demand.


Also known as the _Danish Waltz_.


From the oratorio _Saul_.                            _Handel._

See p. 61.

DEATH OF NELSON (_D.C._ 52, _D. & S._ 48, _O.M.F._ iv. 3)

See p. 116.
                                                  _J. Braham._

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

DI PIACER (_S.B.T._ 1)

A favourite air from the opera _La Gazza Ladra_.


See p. 31.


An eighteenth-century popular burlesque opera.

Words by _H. Carey_, music by _Lampe_.


Words by _Ben Jonson_.

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


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


Duet by _G. Alexander Lee_.

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


Words by _Byron_.

Included in 'Domestic Pieces.'

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

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


Moore's _Irish Melodies_, air 'Bob and Joan.'


Moore's _National Melodies_.

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


Words and music by _T. Moore_.


See 'Death of Nelson.'


See 'Death of Nelson.'


Original (?) See p. 122.


From 'Oh no, we never mention her.'

Words by _T.H. Bayly_.                          _H.R. Bishop._

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

GEE UP, DOBBIN (_D.C._ 12)

In the Burney Collection is a tune 'Gee Ho, Dobbin.' Also in
_Apollo's Cabinet_, 1757, Vol. II, and _Love in a Village_,
1762. The tune was frequently used for ephemeral songs.

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

                                                   _S. Webbe._

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


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

Moore's _Irish Melodies_, set to the air 'Maid of the Valley.'


Words by _J. Ceiriog Hughes_.
Trans, by G. Linley.              _H. Brinley Richards_, 1862.


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

    God rest you merry, gentlemen.

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


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


Words by _R.B. Sheridan_.

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

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

Moore, in his _Irish Melodies_, calls the melody 'Gramachree.'

HAIL COLUMBIA (_M.C._ 13, _A.N._)

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


From Handel's _Suite de Pieces pour le Clavecin_, Set I.

See p. 19.


_Anon._                                         _H.R. Bishop._

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

HEART OF OAK (_B.R._ 7, _E.D._ 12, _U.T._ 20, parody)

Words by _D. Garrick_.                             _W. Boyce._

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


See p. 133.

                                                  _Dr. Watts._

See p. 79.

I AM A FRIAR OF ORDERS GREY (_S.B.S._ 8) (_Out of Season_)

Words by _John O'Keefe_.                          _Wm. Reeve._

Appeared in _Merry Sherwood_, 1795.


See p. 99.


'Lass of Richmond Hill.'

Words by _L. MacNally_.                             _J. Hook._

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

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


See p. 95.


See p. 134.


See p. 133.


See p. 90.



Moore's _Irish Melodies_, air 'Domhnall.'

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




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


Words and music by _C. Dibdin_.

From 'Lovely Nan.' Last two lines:

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


See p. 97.

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


Words and music by _C. Dibdin_ in _The Waterman_.

KING DEATH (_B.H._ 33)

Words by _Barry Cornwall_.                          _Neukomm._

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

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


Words by _Moore_.

Set to the delightfully gay air 'Nora Creina.'

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

                                            _Lord Mornington._

From the glee 'Here in cool grot.'


Words by _Prince Hoare_.                         _S. Storace._

In the opera _Three and The Deuce_, produced in 1806.

See pp. 112, 113.

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

LOVELY PEG (_D. & S._ 10)

See pp. 117-119.

MARSEILLAISE (_M.C._ 15, _E.D._ 2, _L.D._ 2)

                                            _Rouget de Lisle._

For brief history see _The Choir_ (Nov., 1911)


Opera by _Auber_.

See p. 26.


See 'When the first dawn of reason.'


See p. 26.

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


'Mary, I believed thee true,' _Moore_ (one of his 'Juvenile

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

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

MY BOAT IS ON THE SHORE (_G.S._) (_D.C._ 54, _Letters_)

Words by _Lord Byron_.                               _Bishop._

See p. 12.

Also set by W. Cratherne.


See 'We met.'


Words partly by _Burns_.

In Captain Fraser's _Airs Peculiar to the Scottish Highlands_,

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


Said to be the subject of a French song.


See p. 134.

NON NOBIS (_S.B.S._ 19)

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


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

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


Words and music by _Henry Carey_.

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


A once popular dance air.


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


Words by _T. Moore_.

In _Irish Melodies_. Set to the tune 'Kitty Tyrrel.'


Words by _T.H. Bayly_.                          _G.A. Hodson._

Written in 1828. Sung by Braham.

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


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

OH LADY FAIR (_G.E._ 13)

Trio by _Moore_.

See 'Strew then, O strew.'


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



OLD CLEM (_G.E._ 12, 15)

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

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

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

OLD KING COLE (_O.C.S._ 58, _P.P._ 36)

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


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

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

Doctor Marigold's version is probably original:

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


Tune in Johnson's _Musical Museum_, Vol. II, 1788.

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

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

PAUL AND VIRGINIA (_S.B.T._ 7, _L.D._ 13)
                                               _J. Mazzinghi._

The popular duet from this opera 'See from ocean rising'
was sung by Mr. Johnstone and Mr. Incledon. See p. 91.


An old country dance.


Probably an imaginary title, invented by Dickens.

RULE BRITANNIA (_D. & S._ 4, 39, _U.T._ 2, _M.C._ 11, 17,
_A.N._, _D.C._ 8)

Words by _Thomson_ or _Mallet_.                        _Arne._

First appeared in print at the end of the masque _The Judgement
of Paris_, but it was composed for the masque of _Alfred_,
which was first performed on August 1, 1740. See _Musical
Times_, April, 1900.


See 'Of all the girls.'


See p. 80.
                                                  _Dr. Watts._


See _Paul and Virginia_.


('Alice Gray.')

See 'Yet lov'd I.'


Burns revised the words from an old song.

The music is in _Caledonian Pocket Companion_, Bk. VII, 1754,
under the name 'Low Down in the Broom.'


See p. 94.

ii. 12)


    Since laws were made for ev'ry degree
    To curb vice in others as well as me,
    I wonder we han't better company
          Upon Tyburn Tree.

From _Beggar's Opera_. Words by _Gay_.

Set to the tune of 'Greensleeves,' which dates from 1580. This
tune is twice mentioned by Shakespeare in _The Merry Wives
of Windsor_. An earlier 'Tyburn' version is a song entitled
'A Warning to False Traitors,' which refers to the execution
of six people at 'Tyborne' on August 30, 1588.

                                                    _J. Davy._

See p. 120.


There are several songs of this nature, such as 'The Flowing
Bowl' ('Fill the bowl with sparkling nectar'). Another began
'Fill, fill the bowl with sparkling wine.'

(_D.C._ 33)

Not at present traced.


Words and music by _Moore_.

From the glee 'Holy be the Pilgrim's Sleep,' which is a sequel
to 'Oh Lady Fair' (q.v.).

Moore wrote two inane songs, entitled 'Holy be the Pilgrim's
Sleep' and 'Oh Lady Fair.' For both pilgrim and lady arrangements
are made for spending the night somewhere, and in each song occur
the words

    Strew then, oh strew his [our] bed of rushes,
    Here he shall [we must] rest till morning blushes.

TAMAROO (_M.C._ 32)

Said to be taken from an English ballad in which it is
supposed to express the bold and fiery nature of a certain
hackney coachman.

According to _Notes and Queries_ (x. 1), this was sung
at Winchester School some seventy or eighty years ago.

The following is quoted as the first verse:

    Ben he was a coachman rare
    ('Jarvey! Jarvey!' 'Here I am, yer honour'),
    Crikey! how he used to swear!
    How he'd swear, and how he'd drive,
    Number two hundred and sixty-five.
        Tamaroo! Tamaroo! Tamaroo!

Dr. Sweeting, the present music-master at Winchester, says,
'The song "Tamaroo" is quite unknown here now, and if it was
sung here seventy or eighty years ago, I should imagine that
that was only because it was generally well known. Dickens'
allusion to it seems to suggest that it was a song he had heard,
and he utilized its character to label one of his characters
in his own fanciful way.'


An old folk-song. A mother wants her daughter to marry a tailor,
and not wait for her sailor bold, telling her that it is quite
time she was a bride. The daughter says:

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


Glee. 'Ye Shepherds, tell me' (or 'The Wreath').


Words by _H.F. Chorley_.                         _E.J. Loder._

    A song for the oak, the brave old oak,
      Who hath ruled in the greenwood long;
    Here's health and renown to his broad green crown,
      And his fifty arms so strong!


See p. 111.


From 'Poor Jack.'                                 _C. Dibdin._

    For d'ye see, there's a cherub sits smiling aloft
    To keep watch for the life of Poor Jack.

                      (_Last two lines of verse 3._)


Moore's _Irish Melodies_.


Words by _General Burgoyne_.                    _H.R. Bishop._

    If I had a beau, for a soldier who'd go,
    Do you think I'd say no? No, no, not I.


See 'The Light Guitar.'


Set to the air 'Rampant Moll.'

    Perhaps you have all of you heard of a yarn
      Of a famous large sea snake,
    That once was seen off the Isle Pitcairn
      And caught by Admiral Blake.

See p. 16.


Words by _Dickens_. The most popular musical setting is that
by _Henry Russell_.


    Oh leave the gay and festive scene,
      The halls of dazzling light,
    And rove with me through forests green
      Beneath the silent night.


Words, c. 1762.                                    Tune, 1728.

Referring to a disused boiler and a great iron wheel, Dickens
says they are

    Like the Miller of questionable jollity in the song.
    They cared for Nobody, no not they, and Nobody cared
    for them.

The air is found in _The Quaker's Opera_, 1728.


See p. 98.


See pp. 91, 92.


Dr. Arne translated the words from the _Artaserse_ of
Metastasio. This song was the great 'show song' for sopranos
for many years. It was originally sung by Miss Brent.

    The soldier, tired of war's alarms,
    Forswears the clang of hostile arms,
      And scorns the spear and shield;
    But if the brazen trumpet sound,
    He burns with conquest to be crowned,
      And dares again the field.

THE WOODPECKER TAPPING (_D.C._ 36, _L.D._ 35, _S.B.T._ 1,
_M.C._ 25)

Words by _Moore_.                                  _M. Kelly._

    Every leaf was at rest, and I heard not a sound
    But the woodpecker tapping the hollow beech-tree.


See p. 131.


See p. 133.


Probably original.


Words and music by _G. Linley_.

    Tho' lost to sight, to mem'ry dear
      Thou ever wilt remain,
    One only hope my heart can cheer:
      The hope to meet again.


See p. 133.

TIME OF DAY (_S.B.C._ 8)

See p. 92.

                                                  _Dr. Watts._


('Oh ever,' &c.)

Words by _Moore_.

From 'Lalla Rookh.' Has been set to music by S. Glover,
E. Souper, and Verini.


Sung by Mr. Robson and by S. Cowell.

Composer unknown.               A very popular song 1850-1860.

    It's of a liquor merchant who in London did dwell,
    He had but one darter, a beautiful gal.
    Her name it was Dinah, just sixteen years old,
    And she had a large fortune in silver and gold.
        To my too-ral-lal loo-ral-li loo-ral-li-day.

                                                   _J. Percy._


See p. 133.

WE MET (_O.C.S._ 36, _S.B.T._ 11)
                                                 _T.H. Bayly._

The story of a girl who was compelled by her mother to jilt
her true love and marry some one else. The story ends with
the words misquoted by Swiveller:

    The world may think me gay,
      For my feelings I smother--
    Oh! _thou_ hast been the cause
      Of this anguish, my mother!

WE'RE A'NODDIN' (_B.H._ 39)


A once popular Scotch song.

    O we're a' noddin, nid nid noddin,
    O we're a' noddin at our house at home;
    How's o' wi' ye, kimmer? And how do ye thrive,
    And how many bairns hae ye now? Bairns I hae five.


Said in the _London Singer's Magazine_ (c. 1839) to be
written and composed by C. Blondel ('adapted and arranged'
might be more correct). The tune is founded on an air known
as Malbrough, or Malbrook, which originated during the Duke
of Marlborough's campaign, 1704-1709, known as 'The War of
the Spanish Succession.'


Words by _J.E. Carpenter_.                   _Stephen Glover._

This duet was founded upon the question little Paul Dombey
asks his sister:

    I want to know what it says--the sea, Floy, what is
    it that it keeps on saying?


Words by _Moore_.

In _Irish Melodies_ to the air 'The Fox's Sleep.'


Probably original. The nearest I have found to it is--


    When first I came to London Town,
      How great was my surprise,
    Thought I, the world's turned upside down,
      Such wonders met my eyes.

And in _The Universal Songster_--

    When I arrived in London Town,
    I got my lesson pat, &c.


Moore's _Irish Melodies_.

In 1833 Dickens wrote a travesty called _O' Thello_, in which
is a humorous solo of eight lines, to be sung to the air to
which the above is set.


    'Do my pretty Olivia,' cried she, 'let us have that
    little melancholy air your papa was so fond of;
    your sister Sophy has already obliged us. Do, child,
    it will please your old father.' She complied in a
    manner so exquisitely pathetic, as moved me.

      When lovely woman stoops to folly,
        And finds, too late, that men betray,
      What charm can soothe her melancholy?
        What art can wash her guilt away?

       (Goldsmith's _Vicar of Wakefield_, ch. xxiv.)

WHEN THE HEART OF A MAN (_D.C._ 24, _O.M.F._ iii. 14)

Words by _Gay_ (_Beggar's Opera_). Set to a seventeenth-century

    If the heart of a man is depressed with care,
    The mist is dispelled when a woman appears,
    Like the notes of a fiddle she sweetly, sweetly
    Raises our spirits and charms our ears.

WHEN THE STORMY WINDS (_D.C._ 21, _D. & S._ 23)

Words by _Campbell_, who may have taken them from an earlier
source. See 'You Gentlemen of England.'

WHITE SAND (_L.D._ i. 32)

An old glee. See p. 106.


(Blandois' Song.)

Words by _C. Dickens_.                        _H.R.S. Dalton._

An old French children's singing game. Dickens' words are
a literal translation. See _Eighty Singing Games_ (Kidson
and Moffat).


From Ann Taylor's nursery song 'My Mother.'


From 'Begone, dull care' (q.v.).

                                                  _John Davy._


Mr. F. Kidson has traced this to 'A selection of Scotch,
English, Irish, and Foreign Airs,' published in Glasgow by
James Aird, c. 1775 or 1776.


Words by _William Mee_.                             _Millard._

From 'Alice Gray.'

    She's all my fancy painted her,
      She's lovely, she's divine,
    But her heart it is another's,
      It never can be mine.
    Yet lov'd I as ne'er man loved,
      A love without decay,
    Oh my heart, my heart is breaking,
      For the love of _Alice Gray_!

'Alice Gray.' A ballad, sung by Miss Stephens, Miss Palon,
and Miss Grant. Composed and inscribed to Mr. A. Pettet by
Mrs. Philip Millard.

Published by A. Pettet, Hanway Street.


Old English Ballad.

A seventeenth-century song, the last line of each verse being
'When the stormy winds do blow.'


In _Sketches by Boz_ this sentence occurs:

    'When we say a "shed" we do not mean the conservatory
    kind of building which, according to the old song,
    Love frequented when a young man.'

The song referred to is by T. Moore.

    Young love lived once in a humble shed,
      Where roses breathing,
      And woodbines wreathing,
    Around the lattice their tendrils spread,
    As wild and sweet as the life he led.

It is one of the songs in _M.P., or The Blue-Stocking_,
a comic opera in three acts.


  Accordion, 1, 2
  Aeolian Harp, 10

  Bagpipes, 5, 44
  Banjo, [20]
  Barrel-Organ, 5, 6, 10, 50, 53, 78
  Bassoon, 43
  Bells (church) 55, 57
  Bells (various), 23, 57, 61, 66

  Castanets, 56
  'Chaunter,' 109
  Chin-playing, 62
  Clarionet, 42, 43
  Cymbals, 3, 56, 64

  Drum, 23, 64, 66, 110
  'Drums,' 109

  Fiddle, see Violin
  Fife, 44, 63, 85
  Flageolet, 67
  Flute, 6, 25, 26, 36, 37-40, 45

  Guitar, 37, 54, 55, 62
  'Gum-gum,' 63

  Harmonium, 63
  Harp, 6, 23, 25, 26, 29, 30, 31, 64
  Harpsichord, 33, 47

  Jew's-harp, 57

  Key Bugle (or Kent Bugle), 2, 3, 65, 66, 87
  Kit, 27

  Lute, 55

  Marrowbones and Cleaver, 23, 66, 67
  Mouth-organ, 67

  Organ, 45-50, 52, 69-72

  Pan's Pipes, 43, 67
  Piano, 1, 6, 25-29, 31-35, 74, 76
  Piano ('self acting'), 48

  Recorders, 64

  Serpent, 63

  Tambourine, 25, 43, 56, 62
  Tom-tom, 62
  Triangle, 41, 43, 68
  Trombone, 43, 67

  Violin, 1, 2, 5, 6, 23-29, 47, 64
  Violoncello, 6, 25, 29, 44


  Antonio (_U.T._), 54
  Atherfield, Mrs. (_G.M._), 78

  Bagnet, Mrs. (_B.H._), 113
  Bagnet (_B.H._), 43, 85
  Bagnet, Master (_B.H._), 44, 85
  Bailey, Jr. (_M.C._), 59, 89
  Banjo Bones (_U.T._ 5), 20
  Belinda (_M.H.C._), 61
  Billsmethi (_S.B.C._ 9), 20
  Blackpool, S. (_H.T._), 59
  Blandois (_L.D._), 17
  Blathers (_O.T._), 56
  Blimber, Dr. (_D.C._), 53, 58
  Boffin (_O.M.F._), 133
  Bounderby (_H.T._), 56
  Brass, Sally (_O.C.S._), 103, 128
  Brass, Sampson (_O.C.S._), 27, 40, 78, 102, 128
  Briggses, Miss (_S.B.T._ 7), 54, 62
  Browdie, John (_N.N._), 101
  Brown, Mr. (_S.B.T._ 9), [26]
  Bucket (_B.H._), 29, 43, 44, 64, 85, 112
  Bunsby (_L.D._), 121

  Carker, Harriet (_D. & S._), 40
  Carker, James (_D. & S._), 28, 59
  Casby (_L.D._), 53
  Chadband, Rev. (_B.H._), 74
  Cheggs (_O.C.S._), 126
  Chivery, Young (_L.D._), 55
  Chuckster (_O.C.S._), 125
  Chuzzlewit, Jonas (_M.C._), 41, 59
  Chuzzlewit, Martin (_M.C._), 102
  Chuzzlewit, M., Jr., 46, 66, 84, 86
  Clennam, Arthur (_L.D._), 49, 59, 90
  Copperfield, David (_D.C._), 30, 33, 36, 55, 80, 84, 102, 112, 115
  Crewler, Sophy (_D.C._), 33
  Crisparkle, Rev. (_E.D._), 74, 107
  Crumptons, Miss (_S.B.T._ 3), 20
  Cuttle, Capt. (_D. & S._), 7, 18, 83, 84, 89, 117-123

  Daisy, Solomon (_B.R._), 73
  Dartle, Rosa (_D.C._), 30
  Dick, Mr. (_D.C._), 110
  Dombey, Mr. (_D. & S._), 6, 31, 67
  Dombey, Florence (_D. & S._), 89, 101, 118, 120, 121
  Dombey, Paul (_D. & S._), 30, 36, 53, 58, 101
  Dorrit, E. (_L.D._), 109
  Dorrit, F. (_L.D._), 42, 49
  Dorrit, W. (_L.D._), 34
  Dorrit, Miss (_L.D._), 42
  Dorrit, Little (_L.D._), 42
  Dowler (_P.P._), 60
  Drood, E. (_E.D._), 75
  Durdles (_E.D._), 18, 76

  Evans, Jemima (_S.B.C._ 4), 16, 48
  Evans, Mr. (_S.B.T._ 9), 39
  Evenson (_S.B.T._ 1), 40

  Fagin (_O.T._), 59
  Feeder (_D. & S._), 36, 52, 53, 66
  Fezziwig, Mrs. (_C.C._), 25
  Fielding, May (_C.H._), 66
  Finching, Flora (_L.D._), 49, 90, 117
  Fips (_M.C._), 102

  Gamp, Mrs. (_M.C._), 57
  Gattleton, Mrs. (_S.B.T._ 9), 25, 39
  Gay, Walter (_D. & S._), 84, 120, 121
  General, Mrs. (_L.D._), 131
  George, Mr. (_B.H._), 29, 44, 61
  Gills ('Old Sol') (_D. & S._), 120
  Graham, Mary (_M.C._), 47

  Handel (_G.E._), see Pirrip
  Hardy (_S.B.T._ 7), 62, 63
  Harleigh (_S.B.T._ 9), 9
  Harris, Mrs. (_M.C._), 57
  Heep (_D.C._), 80, 116
  Helves, Capt. (_S.B.T._ 7), 62, 90, 103
  Hexham (_O.M.F._), 44
  Hopkins, 135
  Humm (_P.P._), 78
  Humphrey, Master (_M.H.C._), 61
  Hunter, Mrs. (_P.P._)

  Jacksonini (_Letters_), 20
  Jarley, Mrs. (_O.C.S._), 95
  Jasper (_E.D._), 34, 74, 75, 107
  Jeddler (_B.L._), 26
  Jellyby, Caddy (_B.H._), 27, 33
  Jerry (_O.C.S._), 52, 78
  Jingle (_P.P._), 25, 29, 90
  Jorgan (_P.P._), 47

  Kenwigs, Mrs. (_N.N._), 41, 131
  Kit, see Nubbles

  Ladle, Joey (_N.T._), 77
  Larkins, Miss (_D.C._), 30
  Lirriper, Mrs. (_L.L._), 56, 70
  Lobskini (_S.B.T._ 3), 20

  M'Choakumchild (_H.T._), 130
  Malderton, Miss (_S.B.T._ 5), 31, 107
  Maldon, Jack (_D.C._)
  Mantalini (_N.N._), 60
  Marchioness, The (_O.C.S._), 38, 123, 128, 129
  Marigold, Dr., 93
  Marra Boni (_S.B.C._ 8), 20
  Meagles (_L.D._), 86
  Meagles, Miss ('Pet'), 77
  Mell (_D.C._), 36, 117
  Micawber (_D.C._), 41, 83, 112-117
  Micawber, Mrs. (_D.C._), 112, 113, 117
  Micawber, W. (_D.C._), 117
  Miggs, Miss (_B.R._), 56
  Mills, Miss (_D.C._), 102
  Monflathers, Mrs. (_O.C.S._), 79
  Mordlin, Brother (_P.P._), 78
  Morfin (_D. & S._), 27, 28, 29, 41

  Namby, Mrs. (_P.P._), 33
  Nancy (_O.T._), 39
  Nandy (_L.D._), 105, 106
  Nell, Little (_O.C.S._), 79, 101
  Nickleby (_N.N._), 58, 100
  Noggs (_N.N._), 60
  Nubbles ('Kit') (_O.C.S._), 27, 129

  Obenreizer (_N.T._), 14
  'Old Clem,' 151
  'Old Sol,' see Gills

  Pancks (_L.D._), vii, 53, 106
  Pecksniff (_M.C._), 7, 41, 46
  Pecksniffs, Miss (_M.C._), 38, 89, 101, 108
  Peerybingle, Mrs. (_C.H._), 79
  'Pet,' see Meagles, Miss
  Petowker, Miss (_N.N._), 41
  Phenomenon, The (_N.N._), 24
  Pickleson (_Dr. M._), 20, 93
  Pickwick, Mr. (_P.P._), 27, 33, 34, 60, 100
  Pinch, Tom (_M.C._), 46, 47, 59, 60, 72 (&c.)
  Pirrip ('Pip' or 'Handel'), 19, 108
  Pip (_G.E._), see Pirrip
  Plornish, Mrs. (_L.D._), 105, 106
  Plornish, Mr. (_L.D._), 106
  Plummer (_C.H._), 64
  Pocket, Herbert (_G.E._), 19

  Quilp (_O.C.S._), 103, 127

  Redburn, Jack (_M.H.C._), 38
  Rob the Grinder (_D. & S._), 123
  Rudolph, Jennings (_S.B.C._ 8), 68

  Sapsea, Mr. (_E.D._), 18, 76
  Sawyer, Bob (_P.P._), 59, 100
  Scrooge (_C.C._), 30
  Scrooge's Nephew (_C.C._), 30, 107
  Simpson (_P.P._), 109
  Skettles, Lady (_D. & S._), 30
  Skewton, Hon. Mrs. (_D. & S._), 31
  Skimpole (_B.H._), 33, 131
  Smike (_N.N._), 58
  Sparkins (_S.B.T._ 5), 31, 107
  Spenlow, Dora (_D.C._) 33, 55, 102
  Squeers (_N.N._), 36, 100
  Steerforth (_D.C._) 30
  Stiggins (_P.P._), 74
  Strong, Dr. (_D.C._) 45, 80
  Summerson, Esther (_B.H._), 29
  Sweedlepipe (_M.C._), 59
  Swills, Little (_B.H._), 107
  Swiveller, Dick (_O.C.S._), 12, 27, 37, 78, 83, 123-130

  Tackleton (_C.H._), 65, 66
  Tapley, Mark (_M.C._), 73, 84, 86, 102
  Tappertit (_B.R._), 25
  Tauntons, Miss (_S.B.T._ 7), 54, 90
  Tetterby Family (_H.M._), 79
  Tibbs, Mrs. (_S.B.T._ 1), 40
  Timson, Rev. (_S.B.T._ 10), 29
  Tiny Tim (_C.C._), 101
  Tippin, Mrs. (_S.B.T._ 4), 62
  Tippin, Master (_S.B.T._ 4), 62
  Todgers, Mrs. (_M.C._), 89, 108
  Tomlinson (_D. & S._), 67
  Toots (_D.C._), 37
  Topper (_C.C._), 103
  Tottle, Watkins (_S.B.T._ 10), 59
  Tox, Miss (_D. & S._), 33
  Tpschoffki (_G.S._), 20, 51
  Traddles (_D.C._), 33
  Trotter, Job (_P.P._), 80
  Trotwood, Miss (_D.C._), 50
  Tulrumble (_M.P._), 51
  Tupman (_P.P._), 25
  Turveydrop (_B.H._), 29
  Twist, Oliver (_O.T._), 39

  Varden, Mrs. (_B.R._)
  Veck, Toby ('Trotty') (_Ch._), 23, 50, 66
  Velasco, Rinaldo di, see Pickleson

  Wackles, Sophy (_O.C.S._), 37, 125-128
  Wardle (_P.P._), 99
  Wegg, Silas (_O.M.F._), 132-134
  Weller, Mr. (_P.P._), 34
  Weller, Sam (_P.P._), 34, 73 (&c.), 99, 100
  Wickfield (_D.C._), 80
  Wilding (_N.T._), 77
  Wilfer (_O.M.F._), 61, 96
  Wilkins (_S.B.C._), 48
  Willet, Joe (_B.R._), 73
  Wisbottle (_S.B.T._ 1), 40
  Wopsle (_G.E._), 64, 72, 108


  Allon, Dr., 81
  Arne, Dr., 16, 77, 153, 157
  Attwood, T., 114
  Auber, 3

  Barnett, J., 157
  Bath, 60
  Bayly, T.H., 130, 159
  Bedford (singer), 91
  Beethoven, 21, 148
  _Beggar's Opera_, 135, 153, 161
  _Bell's Life in London_, 92
  'Belmont' (Hymn-tune), 98
  Benedict, Sir J., 140
  Bishop, Sir H., 12, 14, 138, 142, 144, 148, 156
  Blamire, S., 136
  Blondel, C., 159
  Boai, M., 62
  Boston (U.S.A.), 7, 32
  Bowden, 1
  Boyce, W., 144
  Braham (singer), 15, 116, 136, 140
  Bridge, Sir F., 99, 139
  Broadstairs, 5, 9, 10
  Buckingham (singer), 92
  Burgoyne, 156
  Burns, 137, 149, 153
  Byrd, 149
  Byron, 12, 141

  Campbell, 11, 161
  Carey, H., 141, 143, 149
  Carpenter, J.E., 160
  Carrara, 4
  Chappell, W., 151
  'Chaunter,' 109
  Cherry, Andrew, 137
  _Choir_, The, 18, 87
  Chopin, 2
  Chorley, H., 12, 21
  Clapham, 67
  _Clari_, 14
  Collins, Wilkie, 11
  Cowell (singer), 139
  Curwen, John, 17

  _Daily News_, The, 16, 20
  Dalton, H.R.S., 17, 161
  Davies, Rev. R., 82
  Davy, J., 120, 137, 154, 162
  Dibdin, C., 88, 115, 119, 133, 139, 146, 156
  Dibdin, C., Jr., 111
  Dibdin, T., 114, 147
  Dover, 5
  'Drums,' 109
  D'Urfey, 151

  'Eagle,' The, 24, 27, 47, 48
  'Elephant and Castle,' The, 43
  Elson, C., 144

  Fairburn (song publisher), 9, 89, 121
  Field, J.T., 8
  Forster, J., 1, 5, 9, 24, 58, 82
  Foundling Hospital, 77

  Garrick, D., 144
  Gay, 153, 161
  Genoa, 5, 72
  Gissing, 46
  Glindon, 48
  Glover, S., 158, 160
  Golden Square, 6
  Goldsmith, 161
  Gounod, 2
  Greene, M., 77
  Grimaldi, 111

  Hamilton, Mrs. E., 134
  Handel, 21, 45, 48, 74, 77, 140, 144
  Haydn, 77
  Hoare, Prince, 113
  Hodson, G.A., 150
  Hook, J., 145
  Horn, C.E., 135
  _Household Words_, 19, 80-82
  Howell, 48
  Hughes, J.C., 143
  Hullah, 15, 17, 130, 150
  Hutchinson Family, 13

  Incledon, 91, 152
  _Irish Melodies_, 7, 8, 88, 129, 131, 142 et seq.

  Jonson, Ben, 141
  Jerrold, D., 3
  Joachim, 13
  Julian, Dr., 81

  Kelly, M., 158
  Kent (composer), 77
  Kidson, Mr. F., 137, 139, 161, 162
  Kitton, F.G., 1, 7, 15

  Lampe, J.F., 141
  Landor, 10
  Lang, A., 72
  Lee, G.A., 133, 141
  Leech, J., 23
  Lemon, Mark, 11
  Leveridge, R., 139
  Lind, Jenny, 3
  Linley, G., 121, 143, 158
  Lisle, Rouget de, 148
  _Little Warbler_, 9, 89, 121
  Loder, E.J., 155
  _London Oddities_, 92
  _London Singer's Magazine_, 18, 159
  Luard-Selby, B., 75

  Macdermott, 94
  Maclise, 12
  Mallet, 153
  Mann, Dr. A.H., 109
  Marseilles, 86
  Marshalsea, 34
  Martin's Act, 96
  Mazzinghi, 152, 155
  Mendelssohn, 2, 77
  Meyerbeer, 3
  Millard, Mrs., 162
  Miller, Rev. J., 81
  Moffat, J., 161
  Moore, T., 7, 12, 133, 134, 142 et seq.
  Mornington, Lord, 147
  Mozart, 2, 21, 48, 77, 137, 141
  _Musical Times_, The, 153

  Neukomm, 147
  Norwich Festival, 109
  'Number Four Collection,' 80

  Offenbach, 2

  Panormo, 138
  Parke, 141
  Parr, Miss, 81
  Parry, J., 133
  Parsons, 48
  Peel, Sir R., 96
  Percy, J., 159
  'Phiz,' 47
  Power, Miss, 10
  _Prentice's Warbler_, 89
  Procter, A., 80
  Purcell, 77, 139

  Rainforth, Miss, 15
  Reeve, W., 111, 145
  Rice, T.D., 97
  Richards, Brinley, 143
  Robson (singer), 159
  Rochester, 43, 75
  Rossini, 141
  Royal Academy of Music, 21
  Russell, Henry, 140, 156
  Russell, Lord John, 3

  St. Clement Danes, 70
  St. Peter's, Rome, 72
  Seven Dials, 9
  Shakespeare, 154
  Sheridan, R.B., 144
  Shield, 137
  Stanfell's Budget, 89
  Storace, S., 113, 147
  Souper, E., 158
  Sweeting, Dr., 155

  Thomson, 153
  Tonic Sol-Fa, 17, 150

  Vauxhall Gardens, 24, 91, 104
  Verini, 158
  Vicar of Wakefield, 161

  Watts, Dr., 7, 78, 79, 80, 145, 153, 158
  Webbe, S., 141, 143
  Wellington House Academy, 1
  White Conduit gardens, 24, 93
  Williams, Dr. V., 122
  Wills, 21



_All these pieces are in the possession of Mr. W. Miller,
Librarian of the Dickens Fellowship_

Songs in the VILLAGE COQUETTES. Words by _Charles Dickens_.
Music by _Hullah_.

THE IVY GREEN. Song. Words by _Charles Dickens_. Music by
_Mrs. Henry Dale_.

THE IVY GREEN. Song. Music by _A. De Belfer_.

THE IVY GREEN. Song. Music by W. _Lovell Phillips_.

THE IVY GREEN. Song. Music by _Henry Russell_.

    (This song has been published by almost every music
    publisher in London and America.)

Introduction and familiar variations on THE IVY GREEN arranged
for the pianoforte by _Ricardo Linter_.

Russell's Song THE IVY GREEN, with introduction and variations
for the pianoforte by _Stephen Glover_.

THE IVY GREEN as a vocal duet. Music by _Henry Russell_.

A CHRISTMAS CAROL. Words by _Charles Dickens_. Music by _Henry

A CHRISTMAS CAROL. Words by _Charles Dickens_. Music by _Henry
Russell_ to the tune of OLD KING COLE.

BOLD TURPIN. Words by _Charles Dickens_. Music by _Sir J.F.

PICKWICK. Set to Music by _George L. Jeune_. Words by _George

DEPARTURE FROM LONDON. Written and sung by _J.M. Field, Esq._
Adapted to an old air. Boston, 1842.


SAM WELLER'S ADVENTURES. Reprinted in _The Life and Times of
James Catnach_.

GABRIEL GRUB. Cantata Seria Buffa. Adapted by _Frederick
Wood_. Music by _George Fox_.


MR. STIGGINS. Song. Maliciously written and composed by
'_Tony Weller_.'

THE PICKWICK QUADRILLE. Composed by _Fred Revallin_.

THE PICKWICK LANCERS. Composed by _Camille D'Aubert_.

PICKWICK. Songs and Dances by _Edward Solomon_. Words of songs
by _Sir F.C. Burnand_.

OLIVER TWIST. Written by _H. Copeland_ from a song by _W.T.

THE ARTFUL DODGER. Written by _Charles Sloman_ and _Sam
Cowell_. Music by _Fred Bridgeman_. Sung by _Sam Cowell_.


by _Beuler_.


pianoforte by _Charles Arnold_.

Major_. Arranged by _J. Monro_.

LITTLE NELL. Words by _Miss Charlotte Young_. Music by _George

LITTLE NELL. Composed by _George Linley_. Arranged for the
pianoforte by _Carlo Totti_.

NELL. Song. Composed by _H.L. Winter_.

LITTLE NELL. By _Miss Hawley_.

LITTLE NELL. Waltz by _Dan Godfrey_.

NELL. Words by _Edward Oxenford_. Music by _Alfred J.

LITTLE NELLIE'S POLKA. Composed by _J. Pridham_.


DOLLY VARDEN. Ballad. Words and Music by _Cotsford Dick_.

_G.W. Hunt's_ Popular Song DOLLY VARDEN.

DOLLY VARDEN. Comic Song. Words by _Frank W. Green_.
Music _Alfred Lee_.

_Vance's_ DOLLY VARDEN. Written, composed, and sung by _Alfred
G. Vance_.

_G.W. Moore's_ Great Song DRESSED AS A DOLLY VARDEN. Written,
composed, and sung by _G.W. Moore_.

DOLLY VARDEN'S WEDDING. Comic Song. Written, composed, and
arranged by _T.R. Tebley_.

DOLLY VARDEN WALTZ. By _Henry Parker_.

DOLLY VARDEN VALSE. Composed by _Sara Leumas_.

THE DOLLY VARDEN POLKA. By _Brinley Richards_.


DOLLY VARDEN POLKA. By _Henry Parker_.

THE DOLLY VARDEN POLKA. Arranged by _T.C. Lewis_. Composed by
_G. Discongi_.

DOLLY VARDEN POLKA. By _George Gough_.

DOLLY VARDEN GALOP. By _Charles Coote, jun._



DOLLY VARDEN GAVOTTE. By _Clementine Ward_.


DOLLY VARDEN QUADRILLE, on old English Tunes. By _C.H.R.

MAYPOLE HUGH. Song. Words by _Charles Bradberry_. Music by
_George Fox_.

Comic Song. Written by _James Briton_. Music arranged to an
American Air by _Geo. Loder_.


TINY TIM. Words by _Edward Oxenford_. Music by _Alfred J.

TINY TIM. Words by _Harry Lynn_. Music by _W. Knowles_.

THE SONG OF CHRISTMAS. Song sung in _A Christmas Carol_ at
the Theatre Royal, Adelphi. Composed by _C. Herbert Rodwell_.

TINY TIM. Written and composed by _Arthur Wingham_.

'GOD BLESS US EVERY ONE.' Words by _Geo. Cooper_. Music by
_Herbert Foster_.

THE CHIMES. Song. Written by _J.E. Carpenter_. Music composed
by _F. Nicholls Crouch_.

THE CHIMES. By _Jullien_.



THE CHIMES GAVOTTE. For the pianoforte, with bell accompaniment
(ad lib.). Composed by _Wm. West_, Organist and Choirmaster
of St. Margaret Pattens (Rood Lane, E.C.).

LILLIAN. Ballad from _The Chimes_. The Poetry by _Fanny E.
Lacey_. Music by _Edward L. Hime_.

THE SPIRIT OF THE CHIMES. Written and composed by _Fanny
E. Lacey_.

THE CRICKET ON THE HEARTH. Song. By _James E. Stewart_,
Cincinnati, U.S.A.

THE CRICKET ON THE HEARTH. A Domestic Ballad. Written by
_Edward J. Gill_. Music by _J. Blewitt_.


THE CRICKET POLKA. Composed by _Jullien_.


THE CRICKET ON THE HEARTH. A set of Quadrilles. By _T.L.

THE CRICKET ON THE HEARTH. A new Christmas Quadrille.
By _F. Lancelott_.

THE NEW CRICKET POLKA. Composed by _Johann Lupeski_.

THE BATTLE OF LIFE. Song. Words by _O.C. Lynn_. Music by
_R. Graylott_. Published in _The Illustrated London News_,
March 20, 1847.

THE FRUIT GATHERERS' SONG ('The Battle of Life'). Written by
_Fanny E. Lacey_. Composed by _Edwin Flood_.


Carpenter_. Music by _Stephen Glover_.

WHAT ARE THE WILD WAVES SAYING? (_Stephen Glover_). Arranged
for the pianoforte by _Brinley Richards_.

A VOICE FROM THE WAVES (an answer to the above). Words by
_R. Ryan_. Music by _Stephen Glover_.

LITTLE PAUL BALLAD. Poetry by _Miss C. Young_. Music by _W.T.

PAUL. Song. Words by _Edward Oxenford_. Music by _Alfred J.

FLORENCE. Song. Written by _Charles Jeffrey_.

POOR FLORENCE. Song. Music composed by _W.T. Wrighton_.

WALTER AND FLORENCE. Song. Written by _Johanna Chandler_.
Music by _Stephen Glover_.

DOMBEY AND SON QUADRILLE. By _Miss Harriet Frances Brown_.


THE MICAWBER QUADRILLE (played in the drama of _Little Em'ly_,
at the Olympic Theatre, in 1869). Composed by _J. Winterbottom_.

LITTLE EM'LY VALSES. By _John Winterbottom_. (Played in the
drama of _Little Em'ly_, at the Olympic Theatre, in 1869.)

THE LITTLE EM'LY POLKA. Composed by _W.G. Severn_.

AGNES; or I HAVE LOVED YOU ALL MY LIFE. Ballad. Written by
_Ger Vere Irving_. Composed by _Gerald Stanley_.

DORA; or THE CHILD-WIFE'S FAREWELL. Ballad. Written by _George
Linley_. Composed by _Gerald Stanley_.

PEGGOTTY THE WANDERER. Ballad. Written by _William Martin_.
Music by _James William Etherington_.

DORA TO AGNES. Song. Words by _Charles Jeffrey_. Music by
_J.H. Tully_.

LITTLE BLOSSOM. Ballad by _Stephen Glover_. Words by _Charlotte

HOUSEHOLD WORDS. Duet. Written by _Charlotte Young_.
Composed by _John Blockley_.

Songs and Ballads from _Bleak House_:

  (1) THE SONG OF ESTHER SUMMERSON, 'Farewell to the Old
      Home.' Written by _Charles Jeffrey_. Music by _Charles
      W. Glover_.

  (2) ADA CLARE. Written by _Charles Jeffrey_. Set to Music
      by _Charles W. Glover_.

POOR JO! Ballad. Written by _H.B. Farnie_. Composed by
_C.F.R. Marriott_.

POOR JO! Song and Chorus. Written by _W.R. Gordon_. Composed
by _Alfred Lee_.

'JO.' Galop for the pianoforte upon airs from the celebrated
drama, by _Edward Solomon_.

'HE WAS WERY GOOD TO ME.' Poor Jo's song. Written and composed
by _Alfred Allen_.

THE TOKEN FLOWERS. Song founded on 'Caddy's Flowers' in
_Bleak House_. Written by _Joseph Edward Carpenter_. Music by
_B. Moligne_.

HARD TIMES. Polka. By _C.W._

LITTLE DORRIT. Ballad. Written and composed by _John Caulfield_.

LITTLE DORRIT. Song. Written by _Henry Abrahams_. Music by
_C. Stanley_.

LITTLE DORRIT'S POLKA. Composed by _Jules Norman_.





'MY DEAR OLD HOME.' Ballad. Written by _J.E. Carpenter_.
Composed by _John Blockley_.

WHO PASSES BY THIS ROAD SO LATE? Blandois' song from _Little
Dorrit_. Words by _Charles Dickens_. Music by _H.R.S. Dalton_.
(This song was suggested to Dickens by the French song entitled
'Le Chevalier du guet.')

FLOATING AWAY BALLAD. Written by _J.E. Carpenter_. Music by
_John Blockley_.

Written by _W.S. Passmore_. Composed by _John Blockley_.




TOM TIDDLER'S POLKA. Composed by _W. Wilson_.


_Coote's_ Lancers, 'SOMEBODY'S LUGGAGE.'

MRS. LIRRIPER'S QUADRILLE. Written by _Adrian Victor_.

Oxenford_. Music by _Alfred J. Caldicott_.

JENNY WREN QUADRILLES. Arranged by _Rosabel_.

MUGBY JUNCTION GALOP. By _Charles Coote, jun._

NO THOROUGHFARE GALOP. Composed by _Charles Coote, jun._

[From an edition:]





The musical extracts are marked [Figure 1]-[Figure 8].
These are available as MIDI files.
Italic text is marked _thus_ with underscores.


Page  10  "and can't play 'out to-night,'"
          Hyphen not inked in original.

Page  25  "and tuned like fifty stomach-aches."
          Corrected typo: "tuned liked"

Page  40  "which had no recognizable tune"
          Corrected typo: "recognizable time"

Page  89  "given to the young red-haired boy"
          Corrected typo: "young red-haired boots"

Page  93  "penn'orths"
Page 104  "hunting field,"
          Letter 't' not inked in original.

Page 115  "His musical powers made him useful at the club-room"
          Hyphen at line-end: could be "clubroom".

Page 116  "'as of a gallant and eminent naval Hero,'"
          Closing quote missing in original.

Page 146  "(_O.C.S._ 27)"
          Corrected typo: "_D.C.S._"

Page 148  "See 'Since the first dawn of reason.'"
          Original had "When the first dawn of reason."

Page 150  "See 'Strew then, Oh strew.'"
          Original had "Strew then, O strew."

Page 152  "Come weal, come woe, we'll gather and go,"
          Line indented in original.

Page 164  "Banjo"
Page 165  "Brown, Mr."
          Page numbers missing in original.

Pages 27, 33, 166, 177
          "Cadby" corrected to "Caddy"

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