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 t.i.tle 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 d.i.c.kens wrote his sketch the place had been in existence nearly a hundred years. Early in the nineteenth century it became a place of varied amus.e.m.e.nts, from balloon ascents to comic songs. d.i.c.kens visited the place about 1835. The t.i.tles 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 pa.s.sed for humour sixty years ago would appeal to an audience of the present day. The song here referred to had a great though brief popularity. This is the first verse:

THE MAN THAT COULDN'T GET WARM.

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

All you who're fond in spite of price Of pastry, cream and jellies nice Be cautious how you take an ice Whenever you're overwarm.

A merchant who from India came, And Shiverand Shakey was his name, A pastrycook's did once entice To take a cooling, luscious ice, The weather, hot enough to kill, Kept tempting him to eat, until It gave his corpus such a chill He never again felt warm.

Shiverand Shakey O, O, O, Criminy Crikey! Isn't it cold, Woo, woo, woo, oo, oo, Behold the man that couldn't get warm.

Some people affect to despise a comic song, but there are instances where a good specimen has helped to make history, or has added a popular phrase to our language. An instance of the latter is MacDermott's 'Jingo' song 'We don't want to fight but by Jingo if we do.' An ill.u.s.tration of the former comes from the coal strike of March, 1912, during which period the price of that commodity only once pa.s.sed 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 pa.s.sed 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 ent.i.tled _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 cla.s.s 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 d.i.c.kens 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, st.u.r.dily 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 pa.s.s 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 gla.s.ses 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 d.i.c.key 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 'st.u.r.dy'

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 a.s.sisted 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 d.i.c.kens 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 Bra.s.s 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 s.n.a.t.c.hes which appeared to have reference to the union between Church and State, inasmuch as they were compounded of the Evening Hymn and 'G.o.d 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