conveyed to me;—and, at last, my awful turn came, and I stood in presence of the formidable tribunal. There sat, with severe look, the vice-chancellor, and, by his side, the memorable Doctor Duigenan, — memorable for his eternal pamphlets against the Catholics. The oath was proffered to me. "I have an objection, my Lord," said I, "to taking this oath." "What is your objection?" he asked sternly. "I have no fears, my Lord, that any thing I might say would criminate myself; but it might tend to involve others, and I despise the character of the person who could be led, under any such circumstances, to inform against his associates." This was aimed at some of the revelations of the preceding day; and, as I learned afterwards, was so understood. "How old are you, Sir ?" he then asked. "Between seventeen and eighteen, my Lord." He then turned to his assessor, Duigenan, and exchanged a few words with him, in an under tone of voice. "We cannot," he resumed, again addressing me," suffer any one to remain in our University who refuses to take this oath." “I shall, then, my Lord," I replied, “take the oath,- still reserving to myself the power of refusing to answer any such questions as I have just described." "We do not sit here to argue with you, Sir," he rejoined sharply; upon which I took the oath, and seated myself in the witnesses' chair. The following are the questions and answers that then ensued. After adverting to the proved existence of United Irish Societies in the University, he asked, "Have you ever belonged to any of these societies ?" "No, my Lord." "Have you ever known of any of the proceedings that took place in them?" "No, my Lord." "Did you ever hear of a proposal at any of their meetings, for the purchase of arms and ammunition ?" "Never, • There had been two questions put to all those examined on the first day, —"Were you ever asked to join any of these societies?" and "By whom were you asked?"-which I should have refused to answer, and must, of course, have abided the consequences. ↑ For the correctness of the above report of this short examination, I can pretty confidentially answer. It may amuse, therefore, my readers, -as showing the manner in which biographers make the most of small facts, to see an extract or two from another account of this affair, published not many years since by an old and zealous friend of our family. After stating with tolerable correctness one or two of my answers, ! the writer thus proceeds: -"Upon this, Lord Clare repeated the question, and young Moore made such an appeal, as my Lord." "Did you ever hear of a proposition made, in one of these societies, with respect to the expediency of assassination?" "Oh no, my Lord." He then turned again to Duigenan, and, after a few words with him, said to me:"When such are the answers you are able to give*, pray what was the cause of your great repugnance to taking the oath ?" "I have already told your Lordship my chief reason; in addition to which, it was the first oath I ever took, and the hesitation was, I think, natural.”† 66 I was now dismissed without any further questioning; and, however trying had been this short operation, was amply repaid for it by the kind zeal with which my young friends and companions flocked to congratulate me ;—not so much, I was inclined to hope, on my acquittal by the court, as on the manner in which I had acquitted myself. Of my reception, on returning home, after the fears entertained of so very different a result, I will not attempt any description;-it was all that such a home alone could furnish. I have continued thus down to the very verge of the warning outbreak of 1798, the slight sketch of my early days which I ventured to commence in the First Volume of this Collection: nor could I have furnished the Irish Melodies with any more pregnant illustration, as it was in those times, and among the events then stirring, that the feeling which afterwards found a voice in my country's music, was born and nurtured. I shall now string together such detached notices and memoranda respecting this work, as I think may be likely to interest my readers. Of the few songs written with a concealed political feeling,—such as "When he who adores thee," and one or two more,—the most successful, in its day, was "When first I met caused his lordship to relax, austere and rigid as he was. The words I cannot exactly remember; the substance was as follows:- that he entered college to receive the education of a scholar and a gentleman; that he knew not how to compromise these characters by informing against his college companions; that his own speeches in the debating society had been ill construed, when the worst that could be said of them was, if truth had been spoken, that they were patriotic that he was aware of the high-minded nobleman he had the honour of appealing to, and if his lordship could for a moment condescend to step from his high station and place himself in his situation, then say how he would act under such circumstances, it would be his guidance."- HERBERT's Irish Varieties. London, 1836. b thee warm and young," which alluded, in its hidden sense, to the Prince Regent's desertion of his political friends. It was little less, I own, than profanation to disturb the sentiment of so beautiful an air by any connexion with such a subject. The great success of this song, soon after I wrote it, among a large party staying at Chatsworth, is thus alluded to in one of Lord Byron's letters to me:- "I have heard from London that you have left Chatsworth and all there full of entusymusy' . . . . . and, in particular, that 'When first I met thee' has been quite overwhelming in its effect. I told you it was one of the best things you ever wrote, though that dog ** wanted you to omit part of it." * The fancy of the "Origin of the Irish Harp," was (as I have elsewhere acknowledged*) | suggested, by a drawing made under peculiarly painful circumstances, by the friend so "When, in consequence of the compact entered into between government and the chief leaders of the conspiracy, the State Prisoners, before proceeding into exile, were allowed to see their friends, I paid a visit to Edward Hudson, in the jail of Kilmainham, where he had then lain immured for four or five months, hearing of friend after friend being led out to death, and expecting every week his own turn to come. I often mentioned in this sketch, Edward Hudson. In connexion with another of these matchless airs, - one that defies all poetry to do it justice, I find the following singular and touching statement in an article of the Quarterly Review. Speaking of a young and promising poetess, Lucretia Davidson, who died very early from nervous excitement, the Reviewer says, "She was particularly sensitive to music. There was one song (it was Moore's Farewell to his Harp) to which she took a special fancy. She wished to hear it only at twilight,—thus (with that same perilous love of excitement which made her place the Eolian harp in the window when she was composing) seeking to increase the effect which the song produced upon a nervous system, already diseasedly susceptible; for it is said that, whenever she heard this song, she became cold, pale, and almost fainting; yet it was her favourite of all songs, and gave occasion to those verses addressed in her fifteenth year to her sister."† With the Melody entitled "Love, Valour, and Wit," an incident is connected, which awakened feelings in me of proud, but sad pleasure-as showing that my songs had reached the hearts of some of the descendants of those great Irish families, who found themselves forced, in the dark days of persecution, to seek in other lands a refuge from the shame and ruin of their own;-those, whose story I have thus associated with one of their country's most characteristic airs : : Ye Blakes and O'Donnells, whose fathers resign'd The green hills of their youth, among strangers to find That repose which at home they had sigh'd for in vain. From a foreign lady, of this ancient extraction, - whose names, could I venture to mention them, would lend to the incident an additional Irish charm,—I received, about two years since, through the hands of a gentleman to whom it had been entrusted, a large portfolio, adorned inside with a beautiful drawing, representing Love, Wit, and Valour, as described in the song. In the border that surrounds the drawing are intro "Si les poëtes n'étoient en quelque sorte une propriété intellectuelle dont chacun prend sa part à raison de la puissance qu'ils exercent, je ne saurois en vérité comment faire pour justifier mon courage!-car il en falloit beaucoup pour avoir osé consacrer mon pauvre talent d'amateur à vos délicieuses poësies, et plus encore pour en renvoyer le pâle reflet à son véritable auteur. "J'espère toutefois que ma sympathie pour l'Irlande vous fera juger ma foible production avec cette heureuse partialité qui impose silence à la critique: car, si je n'appartiens pas à l'Ile In spite of the satirist's assertion, that Verte par ma naissance, ni mes relations, je puis dire que je m'y intéresse avec un cœur Irlandais, et que j'ai conservé plus que le nom de mes pères. Cela seul me fait espérer que mes petits voyageurs ne subiront pas le triste noviciat des étrangers. Puissent-ils remplir leur mission sur le sol natal, en agissant conjointement et toujours pour la cause Irlandaise, et amener enfin une ère nouvelle pour cette héroïque et malheureuse nation:-le moyen de vaincre de tels adversaires s'ils ne font qu'un ? "Vous dirai-je, Monsieur, les doux moments que je dois à vos ouvrages? ce seroit répéter une fois de plus ce que vous entendez tous les jours et de tous les coins de la terre. Aussi j'ai garde de vous ravir un tems trop précieux par l'écho de ces vieilles vérités. "next to singing, the most foolish thing Is gravely to harangue on what we sing," I shall yet venture to prefix to this Volume a few introductory pages, not relating so much to the Songs which it contains as to my own thoughts and recollections respecting songwriting in general. The close alliance known to have existed between poetry and music, during the infancy of both these arts, has sometimes led to the conclusion that they are essentially kindred to each other, and that the true poet ought to be, if not practically, at least in taste and ear, a musician. That such was the case in the early times of ancient Greece, and that her poets then not only set their own verses to music, but sung them at public festivals, there is every reason, from all we know on the subject, to "Si jamais mon étoile me conduit en Irlande, believe. A similar union between the two arts je ne m'y croirai pas étrangère. Je sais que le attended the dawn of modern literature, in the passé y laisse de longs souvenirs, et que la con- twelfth century, and was, in a certain degree, formité des désirs et des espérances rapproche continued down as far as the time of Petrarch, en dépit de l'espace et du tems. when, as it appears from his own memo“Jusque là, recevez, je vous prie, l'assurance randums, that poet used to sing his verses, in 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 our repast, than his friend, Sir Adam, was called upon, with the general acclaim of the whole table, for the song of "Hey tuttie tattie," and gave it out to us with all the true national relish. But it was during the chorus that Scott's delight at this festive scene chiefly showed itself. At the end of every verse, the whole company rose from their crossed, so as to grasp the hand of the neighbour on each side. Thus interlinked, we continued to keep measure to the strain, by moving our arms up and down, all chanting forth vociferously, "Hey tuttie tattie, Hey tuttie tattie." Sir Walter's enjoyment of this old Jacobite chorus,—a little increased, doubt 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 separ-seats, and stood round the table with arms ation of these two callings, in accordance with that great principle of Political Economy, the division of labour, has been found an equally sure index of improving civilisation. So far, in England, 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 neighbour, 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 favourite melody, has been elsewere 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 connexion 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. avail myself of its graphic and (with one ex-in congenial union with melody, which, were ception) accurate details. After adverting to it not for his example, I should say none but 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 honours. So often, indeed, was I called upon to repeat it, that the 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. 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. 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 different 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 re-union 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." |