composing them; and when it was the custom with all writers of sonnets and canzoni to prefix to their poems a sort of key-note, by which the intonation in reciting or chanting them was to be regulated. sooner had the quaigh taken its round, after As the practice of uniting in one individual, -whether Bard, Scald, or Troubadour,-the character and functions both of musician and poet, is known to have been invariably the mark of a rude state of society, so the gradual separation of these two callings, in accordance with that great principle of Political Economy, the division of labor, has been found an equally sure index of improving civilization. So far, in Eng and, indeed, has this partition of workmanship been carried, that, with the signal exception of Milton, there is not to be found, I believe, among all the eminent poets of Eng-less, by seeing how I entered into the spirit land, a single musician. It is but fair, at the same time, to acknowledge, that out of the works of these very poets might be produced a select number of songs, surpassing, in fancy, grace, and tenderness, all that the language, perhaps, of any other country could furnish. We witness, in our own times,-as far as the knowledge or practice of music is concerned, -a similar divorce between the two arts; and my friend and neighbor, Mr. Bowles, is the only distinguished poet of our day whom I can call to mind as being also a musician.† Not to dwell further, however, on living writers, the strong feeling, even to tears, with which I have seen Byron listen to some favorite melody, has been elsewhere described by me; and the musical taste of Sir Walter Scott I ought to be the last person to call in question, after the very cordial tribute he has left on record to my own untutored minstrelsy. But I must say, that, pleased as my illustrious friend appeared really to be, when I first sung for him at Abbotsford, it was not till an evening or two after, at his own hospitable supper-table, that I saw him in his true sphere of musical enjoyment. No *The following is a specimen of these memorandums, as given by Foscolo:-"I must make these two verses over again, singing them, and I must transpose them-3 o'clock, A. M. 19th October." Frequently to sonnets of that time such notices as the following were prefixed:-"Intonatum per Francum"-"Scriptor dedit sonum." The late Rev. William Crowe, author of the noble poem of" Lewisden Hill," was likewise a musician, and has left a Treatise on English versification, to which his knowledge of the sister art lends a peculiar interest. So little does even the origin of the word "lyrick," as ap of it,-gave to the whole scene, I confess, a zest and charm in my eyes such as the finest musical performance could not have bestowed on it. Having been thus led to allude to this visit, I am tempted to mention a few other circumstances connected with it. From Abbotsford I proceeded to Edinburgh, whither Sir Walter, in a few days after, followed; and during my short stay in that city an incident occurred which, though already mentioned by Scott, in his Diary, and owing its chief interest to the connection of his name with it, ought not to be omitted among these memoranda. As I had expressed a desire to visit the Edinburgh theatre, which opened but the evening before my departure, it was proposed to Sir Walter and myself, by our friend Jeffrey, that we should dine with him at an early hour for that purpose, and both were good-natured enough to accompany me to the theatre. Having found, in a volume sent to me by some anonymous correspondent, a more circumstantial account of the scene of that evening than Sir Walter has given in his Diary, I shall here plied to poetry, seem to be present to the minds of some writers, that the poet, Young, has left us an Essay on Lyric Poetry, in which there is not a single allusion to Music, from beginning to end. Life by Lockhart, vol. vi. p. 128. "We went to the theatre together, and the house being luckily a good one, received T. M. with rapture I could have hugged them, for it paid back the debt of the kind reception I met with in Ireland.' Written by Mr. Benson Hill. it not for his example, I should say none but a poet versed in the sister-art ought to attempt, has yet, by him, with the aid of a music to which my own country's strains are alone comparable, been exercised with so workmanly a hand, and with so rich a variety of passion, playfulness, and power, as no songwriter, perhaps, but himself, has ever yet displayed. avail myself of its graphic and (with one ex- | in congenial union with melody, which, were ception) accurate details. After adverting to the sensation produced by the appearance of the late Duchess of St. Alban's in one of the boxes, the writer thus proceeds :-" There was a general buzz and stare, for a few seconds; the audience then turned their backs to the lady, and their attention to the stage, to wait till the first piece should be over ere they intended staring again. Just as it terminated, another party quietly glided into a box near that filled by the Duchess. One pleasing female was with the three male comers. In a minute the cry ran round:- Eh, yon's Sir Walter, wi' Lockhart an' his wife, and wha's the wee bit bodie wi' the pawkie een? Wow, but it's Tam Moore, just-Scott, Scott! Moore, Moore !'--with shouts, cheers, bravos, and applause. But Scott would not rise to appropriate these tributes. One could see that he urged Moore to do so; and he, though modestly reluctant, at last yielded, and bowed hand on heart, with much animation. The cry for Scott was then redoubled. He gathered himself up, and, with a benevolent bend, acknowledged this deserved welcome. The orchestra played alternately Scotch and Irish Melodies." Among the choicest of my recollections of that flying visit to Edinburgh, are the few days I passed with Lord Jeffrey at his agreeable retreat, Craig Crook. I had then recently written the words and music of a glee contained in this volume, "Ship a hoy!" which there won its first honors. So often, indeed, was I called upon to repeat it, tha he upland echoes of Craig Crook ought long to have had its burden by heart. Having thus got on Scottish ground, I find myself awakened to the remembrance of a name which, whenever song-writing is the theme, ought to rank second to none in that sphere of poetical fame. Robert Burns was wholly unskilled in music; yet the rare art of adapting words successfully to notes, of wedding verse The writer was here mistaken. There was one lady of our party; but neither Mr. nor Mrs. Lockhart was present. ↑ It appears certain, notwithstanding, that he was, in his youth, wholly insensible to music. In speaking of him and his brother, Mr. Murdoch, their preceptor, says, "Robert's ear, in particular, was remarkably dull, and his voice untunable. It was long before I could get him to distinguish one tune from another." That Burns, however untaught, was yet, in ear and feeling, a musician,† is clear from the skill with which he adapts his verse to the structure and character of each different strain. Still more strikingly did he prove his fitness for this peculiar task, by the sort of instinct with which, in more than one instance, he discerned the real and innate sentiment which an air was calculated to convey, though previously associated with words expressing a totally dif ferent cast of feeling. Thus the air of a ludicrous old song, "Fee him, father, fee him," has been made the medium of one of Burns's most pathetic effusions; while, still more marvellously, "Hey tuttie tattie" has been elevated by him into that heroic strain, "Scots, wha hae wi' Wallace bled;"-a song which, in a great national crisis, would be of more avail than all the eloquence of a Demosthenes.‡ It was impossible that the example of Burns, in these, his higher inspirations, should not materially contribute to elevate the character of English song-writing, and even to lead to a reunion of the gifts which it requires, if not, as of old, in the same individual, yet in that perfect sympathy between poet and musician which almost amounts to identity, and of which, in our own times, we have seen so interesting an example in the few songs which bear the united names of those two sister muses, Mrs. Arkwright and the late Mrs. Hemans. Very different was the state of the song-department of English poesy at the period when I first tried my novice hand at the lyre. The divorce between song and sense had then I know not whether it has ever been before remarked, that the well-known lines in one of Burns's most spirited songs, "The title's but the guinea's stamp, The man's the gold for a' that," may possibly have been suggested by the following passage in Wycherley's play, the "Country Wife:"-"I weigh the man, not his title; 'tis not the King's stamp can make the metal better." reached its utmost range; and to all verses connected with music, from a Birth-day Ode down to the libretto of the last new opera, might fairly be applied the solution which Figaro gives of the quality of the words of songs, in general,-"Ce qui ne vaut pas la peine d'être dit, on le chante." It may here be suggested that the convivial lyrics of Captain Morris present an exception to the general character I have given of the songs of this period; and, assuredly, had Morris written much that at all approached the following verses of his "Reasons for Drinking," (which I quote from recollection,) few would have equalled him either in fancy, or in that lighter kind of pathos, which comes, as in this instance, like a few melancholy notes in the middle of a gay air, throwing a soft and passing shade over mirth : "My muse, too, when her wings are dry, But round a bowl she'll dip and fly, If then the nymph must have her share, "Then, many a lad I lik'd is dead, And many a lass grown old; To fill my glass again." How far my own labors in this field-if, indeed, the gathering of such idle flowers may be so designated-have helped to advance, or even kept pace with the progressive improvement I have here described, it is not for me to presume to decide. I only know that in a strong and inborn feeling for music lies the source of whatever talent may have shown for poetical composition; and that it was the effort to translate into language the emotions and passions which music appeared to me to express, that first led to my writing any poetry at all deserving of the name. Dryden has happily described music as being "inarticulate poetry;" and I have always felt, in adapting words to an expressive air, that I was but * I cannot let pass the incidental mention here of this social and public-spirited nobleman, without expressing my strong sense of his kindly qualities, and lamenting the loss bestowing upon it the gift of articulation, and thus enabling it to speak to others all that was conveyed, in its wordless eloquence, to myself. Owing to the space I was led to devote, in our last volume, to subjects connected with the Irish Melodies, I was forced to postpone some recollections, of a very different description, respecting the gala at Boyle Farm, by which my poem, entitled The Summer Fête, was suggested. In an old letter of my own to a friend in Ireland, giving an account of this brilliant festival, I find some memorandums which, besides their reference to the subject of the poem, contain some incidents also connected with the first appearance before the public of one of the most successful of all my writings, the story of the Epicurean. I shall give my extracts from this letter, in their original diarylike form, without alteration or dressing The June 30, 1837.-Day threatening for the Fête. Was with Lord Essex* at three o'clock, and started about half an hour after. whole road swarming with carriages-and-four all the way to Boyle Farm, which Lady de Roos has lent, for the occasion, to Henry ;the five givers of the Fête, being Lords Chesterfield, Castlereagh, Alvanley, Henry de Roos, and Robert Grosvenor, subscribing four or five hundred pounds each towards it. The arrangements all in the very best taste. The pavilion for quadrilles, on the bank of the river, with steps descending to the water, quite eastern-like what one sees in Daniel's pictures. Towards five the élite of the gay world was assembled the women all looking their best, and scarce a single ugly face to be found. About half past five, sat down to dinner, 450 under a tent on the lawn, and fifty to the Royal Table in the conservatory. The Tyrolese musicians sung during dinner, and there were, after dinner, gondolas on the river, with Caradori, De Begnis, Velluti, &c., singing barcarolles and rowing off occasionally, so as to let their voices die away and again return. After these succeeded a party in dominos, Madame Vestris, Fanny Ayton, &c., who rowed about in the same manner, and sung, among other things, my gondola song, "Oh come to me when daylight sets." The evening which not only society, but the cause of sound and progressive Political Reform, has sustained by his death. was delicious, and, as soon as it grew dark, the groves were all lighted up with colored lamps, in different shapes and devices. A little lake near a grotto took my fancy particularly, the shrubs all round being illuminated, and the lights reflected in the water. Six-and-twenty of the prettiest girls of the world of fashion, the F* t rs, Brd 1s, De R * * s's, Miss F *ld g, Miss F*x, Miss Rss * ll, Miss B **ly, were dressed as Rosières, and opened the quadrilles in the pavilion * * While talking with D-n, (Lord P.'s brother,) he said to me, "I never read any thing so touching as the death of your heroine." "What!" said I, "have you got so far already?" 66 Oh, I read it in the Literary Gazette." This anticipation of my catastrophe is abominable. Soon after, the Marquis P-Im-a said to me, as he and I and B-m stood together, looking at the gay scene, "This is like one of your Fêtes." "Oh yes," said B—m, thinking he alluded to Lalla Rookh, quite oriental." Non, non," replied P-Im-a, "je veux dire cette Fête d'Athènes, dont j'ai lu la description dans la Gazette d'aujourd'hui." 66 Respecting the contents of the present Volume I have but a few more words to add. Accustomed as I have always been to consider my songs as a sort of compound creations, in which the music forms no less essential a part than the verses, it is with a feeling which I can hardly expect my unlyrical readers to understand, that I see such a swarm of songs as crowd these pages all separated from the beautiful airs which have formed hitherto their chief ornament and strength-their "decus et tutamen." But, independently of this uneasy feeling, or fancy, there is yet another inconvenient consequence of the divorce of the words from the music, which will be more easily, perhaps, comprehended, and which, in justice to myself, as a metre-monger, ought to be noticed. Those occasional breaches of the laws of rhythm, which the task of adapting words to airs demands of the poet, though very frequently one of the happiest results of his skill, become blemishes when the verse is separated from the †The Epicurean had been published but the day before. I shall avail myself of this opportunity of noticing the charge brought by Mr. Bunting against Sir John Stevenson, of having made alterations in many of the airs that formed our Irish Collection. Whatever changes of this kind have melody, and require, to justify them, the presence of the music to whose wildness or sweetness the sacrifice had been made. In a preceding page of this preface, I have mentioned a Treatise by the late Rev. Mr. Crowe, on English versification; and I remember his telling me, in reference to the point I have just touched upon, that, should another edition of that work be called for, he meant to produce, as examples of new and anomalous forms of versification, the following songs from the Irish Melodies :-"Oh the days are gone when Beauty bright"-" At the dead hour of night, when stars are weeping, I fly,"-and, "Through grief and through danger thy smile hath cheer'd my way." PREFACE ΤΟ THE SIXTH VOLUME. THE Poem, or Romance, of LALLA ROOKн, having now reached its twentieth edition, a short account of the origin and progress of a work which has been hitherto, at least, so very fortunate in its course, may not be deemed, perhaps, superfluous or misplaced. It was about the year 1812 that, impelled far more by the encouraging suggestions of friends than impelled by any confident promptings of my own ambition, I was induced to attempt a Poem upon some Oriental subject, and of those quarto dimensions which Scott's late triumphs in that form had then rendered the regular poetical standard. A nogotiation on the subject was opened with the Messrs. Longman in the same year, but from some causes which have now escaped my recollection, led to no decisive result; nor was it till a year or two after, that any further steps were taken in the matter, their house being the only one, it is right to add, with which, from first to been ventured upon, (and they are but few and slight,) the responsibility for them rests solely with me, as, leaving the Harmonist's department to my friend Stevenson, I reserved to myself entirely the selection and management of the airs. last, I held any communication upon the sub- having made some progress in my task, I wrote ject. On this last occasion, an old friend of mine, Mr. Perry, kindly offered to lend me the aid of his advice and presence in the interview which I was about to hold with the Messrs. Longman, for the arrangement of our mutual terms; and what with the friendly zeal of my negotiator on the one side, and the prompt and libual spirit with which he was met on the other, there has seldom occurred any transaction in which Trade and Poesy have shone out so advantageously in each other's eyes. The short discussion that then took place between the two parties, may be comprised in a very few sentences. "I am of opinion," said Mr. Perry, enforcing his view of the case by arguments which it is not for me to cite,"that Mr. Moore ought to receive for his Poem the largest price that has been given, in our day, for such a work." "That was," answered the Messrs. Longman, "three thousand guineas." "Exactly so," replied Mr. Perry, "and no less a sum ought he to receive." It was then objected, and very reasonably, on the part of the firm, that they had never yet seen a single line of the Poem; and that a perusal of the work ought to be allowed to them, before they embarked so large a sum in the purchase. But, no;-the romantic view which my friend, Perry, took of the matter, was, that this price should be given as a tribute to reputation already acquired, without any condition for a previous perusal of the new work. This high tone, I must confess, not a little startled and alarmed me; but, to the honor and glory of Romance,-as well on the publisher's side as the poet's,-this very generous view of the transaction was, without any difficulty, acceded to, and the firm agreed, before we separated, that I was to receive three thousand guineas for my Poem. At the time of this agreement, but little of the work, as it stands at present, had yet been written. But the ready confidence in my success shown by others, made up for the deficiency of that requisite feeling within myself; while a strong desire not wholly to disappoint this auguring hope," became almost a substitute for inspiration. In the year 1815, therefore, 66 * April 10, 1815. to report the state of the work to the Messrs. Longman, adding, that I was now most willing and ready, should they desire it, to submit the manuscript for their consideration. Their answer to this offer was as follows:-" We are certainly impatient for the perusal of the Poem; but solely for our gratification. Your sentiments are always honorable." I continued to pursue my task for another year, being likewise occasionally occupied with the Irish Melodies, two or three numbers of which made their appearance during the period employed in writing Lalla Rookh. At length, in the year 1816, I found my work sufficiently advanced to be placed in the hands of the publishers. But the state of distress to which England was reduced, in that dismal year, by the exhausting effects of the series of wars she had just then concluded, and the general embarrassment of all classes, both agricultural and commercial, rendered it a juncture the least favorable that could well be conceived for the first launch into print of so light and costly a venture as Lalla Rookh. Feeling conscious, therefore, that, under such circumstances, I should act but honestly in putting it in the power of the Messrs. Longman to reconsider the terms of their engagement with me, leaving them free to postpone, modify, or even, should such be their wish, relinquish it altogether, I wrote them a letter to that effect, and received the following answer :-" We shall be most happy in the pleasure of seeing you in February. We agree with you, indeed, that the times are most inauspicious for ' poetry and thousands;' but we believe that your poetry would do more than that of any other living poet at the present moment."† The length of time I employed in writing the few stories strung together in Lalla Rookh will appear, to some persons, much more than was necessary for the production of such easy and "light o'love" fictions. But, besides that I have been, at all times, a far more slow and painstaking workman than would ever be guessed, I fear, from the result, I felt that, in this instance, I had taken upon myself a more than ordinary responsibility, from the immense stake risked by others on my chance November 9, 1816. |