|
'MUSICAL Thomson
(memorable, more so than venerable, as the publisher of Burns's songs):
him I saw one evening sitting in the Reading-room; a clean-brushed
commonplace old gentleman in scratch-wig; whom we spoke a few words to,
and took a good look of.' Such is Carlyle's reference to George Thomson,
speaking of his own visits to Edward Irving at Annan, somewhere about
the year 1821. To any one who did not know the circumstances of the
case, there would be something misleading in the description of Thomson
as 'the' publisher of Burns's songs; for Burns's songs were being
published before Thomson had anything to do with the poet, and Thomson's
collection contained, after all, but a very small proportion of the
lyrics which make up the Burns total in that department of verse. But
Thomson has been rather unfortunate in the matter of designations. In
Mr. W. K. Leask's recent monograph on Boswell he is referred to as 'the
composer' (it is Mr. Leask who buries John Knox in St. Andrews!) while
in Sir George Grove's Dictionary of Music he figures as 'the
music-publisher of Edinburgh.' In the strict sense of the terms, he was
neither composer nor music-publisher: he was an enthusiastic amateur
musician, whose hobby was the collection and preservation of national
music and song; and it was for this, as well as for the connection with
Burns to which it led, that he desired and expected to be remembered.
Having recently had his correspondence placed in my hands for editing
with a view to publication, I propose in this article to revive his
memory and to tell some things about him which will probably give a new
interest to the well known letters of Burns addressed to him.
Writing to Robert
Chambers in 1838, Thomson, then an octogenarian, declares that he cannot
believe himself to be so old as the 'information' regarding the year of
his birth would make him out to be. As a matter of fact, he was a couple
of years older than even his ' information' led him to suppose. He gives
his birth year as 1759, but he was really born on the 4th of March,
1757, as appears from the local registers. His father, Robert Thomson,
was then a schoolmaster at Limekilns, in Fife; but soon after George was
born the family removed to Banff. Here, as it appears, the dominie had
somewhat of a struggle to maintain an increasing family; and after
trying 'some mercantile means of enlarging his income,' without success,
he, about 1774, resolved upon going to Edinburgh. He became a
messenger-at-arms in the capital, but I can find nothing further
regarding him.
Young Thomson had reached
his seventeenth year by this time, and had received a fairly good
education, first of course from his father, and then at the local
grammar school. He speaks himself of having learned ' the dead
languages' at Banff; and from his correspondence afterwards I find that
he could read both French and Italian, in which languages Beethoven and
Haydn, notwithstanding that both were Germans, wrote their letters to
him. In Edinburgh Thomson got into the office of a Writer to the Signet;
and in 1780 he was lucky enough, through the influence of John Home, the
author of Douglas, with one of the members, to secure the post of junior
clerk to the Board of Trustees for the Encouragement of Art and
Manufactures in Scotland. Not long after, the principal clerk died, and
Thomson succeeding to his post, remained with the Board until his
retirement in 1839, after a service of fifty-nine years. In his official
capacity there is very little of interest to tell regarding him, though
one or two circumstances connected therewith may be brought out in the
course of this paper. He seems to have found both his work and his
superiors entirely to his mind, and no doubt his duties were light
enough to enable him to give a good deal of office time to the subject
which so engrossed his attention. When he was twenty-five he had entered
upon a very happy union with Miss Miller, the daughter of a lieutenant
iu the 50th regiment. By this lady he had two sons and four daughters.
One of the latter, Georgina, became in 1814 the wife of George Hogarth,
the musical critic and historian, and a daughter of that union,
Catherine, became, as everybody knows, the wife of Charles Dickens. The
novelist's children are thus the great grandchildren of the old
gentleman in the scratch-wig whom Carlyle had 'a good look of' at Annan.
There is a letter of Burns written to Thomson in July 1793, in which the
poet, speaking of the first volume of Thomson's collection then recently
published, says:
'Allow me to congratulate
you now as a brother of the quill. You have committed your character and
fame, which will now be tried for ages to come by the illustrious jury
of the sons and daughters of taste—all of whom poesy can please or music
charm. Being a bard of Nature, I have some pretensions to second sight;
and I am warranted by the spirit to foretell and affirm that your
great-great-grand-children will hold up your volumes and say with honest
pride : ''This so much admired selection was the work of my ancestor."
It would be interesting
to know if Burns's prediction has been fulfilled in this particular.
Personally, I am somewhat doubtful!
I have said that Thomson
was an enthusiastic amateur musician, and the phrase iu his case covers
a great deal more than it usually does in these greedy utilitarian days.
It was not his time only that he gave towards the furtherance of the
art; he gave much of his means for the same cause, and iu one case of
which I shall have to speak he involved himself in a serious pecuniary
difficulty simply iu order that a talented girl might not want for a
proper musical training. As a musical amateur, his great hobby, apart
from his interest in national song, was the violin. In his leisure hours
he used, as he puts it himself, ' to con over our Scottish melodies and
to devour the choruses of Handel's oratorios, in which, when performed
at St. Cecilia's Hall, I generally took a part. ... I had so much
delight in singing these matchless choruses and in practising the violin
quartettes of Pleyel and Haydn that it was with joy I hailed the hour
when, like the young amateur in the good old Scotch song, I could hie me
hame to my Cremona and enjoy Haydn's admirable fancies.' Whether Thomson
ever possessed a 'Cremona' I am unable to say: the term is sometimes
used in a loose way as merely a synonym for violin. But if such an
instrument was not among his belongings, it was not because he had made
no efFoit to obtain it. In the year 1819 he was trying to sell the
copyright of certain compositions which Beethoven had written for him,
and in a letter to Messrs. Breitkopf & Hartel, the music publishers of
Leipzig, he says:
'I have long wished to
possess an old violin of the best quality by Stradivarius or Joseph
Guarnerius. If you have a violin of either master of undoubted
originality and in good preservation I would give yon all the MSS. of
Beethoven above-mentioned in exchange for the violin.'
As the manuscripts '
above-mentioned ' were valued by Thomson at the low figure of a hundred
and twenty-five ducats (say £62), it is evident that cremona violins
were not then the costly things that they are now, when an instrument '
of undoubted originality and in good preservation' can seldom be
procured under £1000. The Leipzig firm, unfortunately, did not care to
have the Beethoven MSS., and Thomson, for the time being at any rate,
had to do without his cremona. From one of his letters I see that he
sent 'Hogg a violin as ' a small return ' for some of the songs the
Ettrick Shepherd had written for him.
The St. Cecilia concerts,
of which Thomson speaks, were a notable institution in the Edinburgh of
a hundred years ago and earlier. Thomson had a good deal to do with them
in his time. He calls the undertaking ' one of the most interesting and
liberal musical institutions that ever existed in Scotland, or indeed in
any country,' and allowing a little for excusable exaggeration, the
claim may be admitted. The concerts, to quote Chambers, were attended by
'all the rank, beauty and fashion of which Edinburgh could then boast;'
and in addition to the professional performers, ' many amateurs of great
musical skill and enthusiasm, such as Mr. Tytler of Woodhouselee, were
pleased to exhibit themselves for the amusement ot their friends, who
alone were admitted by ticket.' In their first form the gatherings were
known as the 'Gentlemen's Concerts.' In Guy Mannering it will be
remembered that Scott speaks of Counsellor Pleydell as 'a member of the
Gentlemen's Concert in Edinburgh,' 'scraping a little upon the
violoncello.' At first the place of meeting was the upper room of St.
Mary's Chapel in Niddry's Wynd; but by the year 1762 the Society had so
increased in popularity that a hall, named after the patron saint of
music, was specially built at the foot of the Wynd. The structure was
designed on the plan of the Grand Opera House at Parma, but of course on
a smaller scale. Arnot, the historian of Edinburgh, says it was
excellently adapted for music, and had a seating capacity of about five
hundred. The orchestra, he remarks, is at the upper end ' which is
handsomely terminated by an elegant organ.' In its time the building
would seem to have been given up to some rather doubtful doings. Its
palmiest days were the days when convivial knights-errant used to 'save
the ladies' by toasting their idols in a bumper. The deepest drinker '
saved his lady,' and Thomson, speaking of the old place in Niddry's Wynd,
declares that the bold champion had often considerable difficulty in '
saving' himself from the floor in his efforts to regain his seat.
The concerts of the
Society went on until the spring of 1798, by which time, owing to the
attractions of the New Town, it was beginning to be felt that Niddry's
Wynd was not quite a convenient locale for a concert hall. Iu addition
to that, it appears that the building of the South Bridge was believed
to have done harm to the Society's hall; for we find the Improvement
Trustees handing over certain areas adjoining the building' 'to the
Directors of the said Musical Society, as a recompense for their having
agreed to the widening of Niddry Street, by which the entry to the hall
was much hurt.' The Society, at anyrate, was formally wound up in 1801,
and next year the hall was sold to the Baptists. In 1809 it was
purchased by the Grand Lodge of Scotland; in 1844 by the Town Council as
Trustees for Dr. Bell's Trust; and now it is occupied as a warehouse. It
has, of course, seen a good many changes since George Thomson and other
grave amateurs of his time made music within its walls, but enough of
the original remains to show how admirably the place was adapted for
concert purposes.
It was in Niddry's Wynd
that Thomson got his first incentive towards making a collection of
national song. On this point it will perhaps be best to quote himself.
He says:
'At the St. Cecilia
concerts I heard Scottish songs sung in a style of excellence far
surpassing any idea which I had previously had of their beauty, and that
too from Italians, Signor Teuducci the one and Signora Domenica Corri
the other. Teuducci's "I'll never leave thee," and "Braes o' Ballenden,"
and the Signora's "Ewe-Bughts, Marion," and "Waly, waly," so delighted
every hearer that in the most crowded room not a whisper was to be
heard, so entirely did they rivet the attention and admiration of the
audience. Teuducci's singing was full of passion, feeling and taste, and
what we hear very rarely from singers, his articulation of the words was
no less perfect than his expression of the music. It was in consequence
of my hearing him and Signora Corri sing a number of our songs so
charmingly that I conceived the idea of collecting all our best melodies
and songs, and of obtaining accompaniments to them worthy of their
merit.'
It is certainly not a
little curious that the beauty of Scottish song should been first
revealed to Thomson by a couple of Italians; but the musical Edinburgh
of his day, as indeed it has always been to some extent, was dominated
mainly by foreigners. There was Christoff Schetky, the principal 'celloist
of the St. Cecilia Society; there was Pietro Urbani, of whom more by and
bye; there were various members of the Corri family; there were Teuducci
and others—all continental artists, and all more or less intimately
associated with the music of the capital; while only the Gows and
Stephen Clarke and such like had a footing as representing the native
element in art. Teuducci was very fond of singing Scots songs, and there
is a unity of testimony to the fact that he sang them uncommonly well.
He came to Edinburgh to take part in the St. Cecilia concerts in 1768,
and he appeared regularly before the Society for some time after. All
the time he was giving lessons in singing; and one of his pupils, it is
interesting to note, was the Alexander Campbell who so miserably failed
to teach psalmody to Sir Walter Scott, owing to the 'incurable defects'
of the novelist's ear.
The Corris were rather a
numerous and confusing family, but the one with whom Thomson had
specially to do was Natale Corri, a brother of the more famous Domenico,
whose wife had charmed him by her singing at the St. Cecilia concerts.
Natale Corri was for many years a singing master of reputation in
Edinburgh; and Thomson, as it appears, had become security for him to
the Royal Bank for a sum of £363. In 1821 Thomson writes to the
Directors of the Bank regretting that ' we find it impossible to pay
this debt at present, or in any other than by instalments.' Corri and
Thomson divided the sum in three bills, payable at twelve, twenty-four,
and thirty-six months; but in the end Thomson had to meet the whole
amount. Corri died soon after the bills were drawn, and his daughter,
Frances, who had subscribed them jointly with her father, now became the
object of Thomson's anxious attention. In a letter he addressed to her
at Florence iu March, 1824, he reminds her that she had accepted bills
to him for £200, ' being one half of the sum which I am now paying for
your late father to the Royal Bank here, by instalments of £60 a year
out of my very limited income.' He goes on to say that the lady's father
had declared to him that ' the whole sum which I am now obliged to pay
was laid out by him for your education in London, and that you had
assured him iu the strongest terms that you would not permit me to be a
loser. . . . You may easily conceive how hard it bears upon me and my
family out of a salary of £300 to carry £15 every three months to the
Bank.' This letter was sent under cover to Mr. Haig of Bemerside, who
was then at Florence, ' with an earnest request to him to endeavour to
get the money from her either in whole or in part.' I have been unable
to discover whether Thomson ever succeeded in getting the money. Nor
does it matter much here : the main reason of my bringing the case
forward at all is because of its indirect bearing upon the pecuniary
relations of Burns and Thomson, to be afterwards discussed. Miss Corri
ought certainly to have been in a position to pay. In this very year
when Thomson was writing to her at Florence, a musical critic was able
to declare of her that 'she promises in a few years to be one of the
greatest ornaments of the Italian stage;' and even before that she was
thought good enough to be associated with the great Catalani in a long
professional tour through the Continent. But she was in Italy and
Thomson was in Edinburgh, and in those days it was more difficult
recovering a debt under the circumstances than it is even now.
Having got his sense of
the worth and beauty of national song awakened at the St. Cecilia
concerts, Thomson was not long in setting to work as a collector and
editor. He tells how, before doing anything, he examined all the
collections within his reach, and found them ' all more or less
exceptionable—a sad mixture of good and evil, the pure and the impure.'
Generally 'there were no symphonies to introduce and close the airs, and
the accompaniments (for the piano or harpsichord onl}r) were meagre and
commonplace, while the words were in a great many cases such as could
not be tolerated or sung iu good society.' The collections thus referred
to may be identified with tolerable certainty, for the number of such
works up to Thomson's time was by no means great. The earliest published
collection of Scottish music was the Orpheus Caledonim of William
Thomson, and the first volume of that work was not issued till 1725, the
second following in 1733. In the 1725 volume Allan Ramsay published
about seventy Scottish melodies as a sort of musical appendix to his
Tea-Table Miscellany. Thomson was an Edinburgh musician who in the early
years of the century went to Loudon, where he acquired some fame as a
singer. Burney has a reference to him in his well known History of
Music. He says: 'In February [1722] there was a benefit concert for Mr.
Thomson, the first editor of a collection of Scots tunes in England. To
this collection, for which there was a very large subscription, may be
ascribed the subsequent favour of these national melodies south of the
Tweed.'
After Thomson, the next
collector of any note was James Oswald, who published several sets of '
Scots Tunes,' and finally, in 1759, his Caledonian Pocket Companion. If
George Thomson went to him for guidance, he was certainly in danger of
going astray. Oswald had no idea of preserving the airs in their
original form, but ' decked them out with embellishments in order to
display the skill of the singer.' Moreover, with the view no doubt of
giving additional celebrity to certain melodies in his collection, he
passed them off as the composition of the luckless David Rizzio, who was
just enough of a musician to give a plausible appearance to the trick.
Oswald's impositions in this way are pointedly referred to in a poetical
epistle addressed to him in the Scots Magazine for October, 1741. Scott
evidently knew of them, as witness the following from The Fair Maid of
Perth: ' It's no a Scotch tune, but it passes for ane: Oswald made it
himsell, I reckon—he has cheated mony ane, but he canna cheat Wandering
Willie.' Oswald was originally a teacher of music, first in Dunfermline,
and then in Edinburgh. About 1741 he settled as a music publisher in
London, where he obtained the distinction of 'chamber composer' to
George III.
The collections of Pietro
Urbani and William Napier came quite close to George Thomson's venture
in the matter of date. Urbani's name has survived in certain references
of Burns, but for which it would probably have been entirely forgotten.
An Italian singer and music-teacher, settled for some years in
Edinburgh, he was both a good musician and a good vocalist. He had the
merit of being practically the first person who attempted, at great
cost, to get up some of Handel's oratorios in the Scottish capital. In
January, 1803, we find him making this announcement: ' To the public.
For a considerable time past Mr. Urbani has been busily employed in
preparing and rehearsing three of the most celebrated of Handel's
oratorios, and he is now happy to mention that on Tuesday, the 1st
February, 1803, the sacred and sublime oratorio of The Messiah will be
performed by the most numerous and perfect band of vocal and
instrumental performers which have appeared in this part of the
kingdom.' George Farquhar Graham says that the meritorious attempt thus
notified ' was not encouraged, and Urbani was ruined.' There may have
been losses, certainly, but The Messiah at any rate was such a success
that it was repeated on February 15, the concert beginning, as in
London, at 12 o'clock noon.' Urbani's name disappeared, however, from
the Edinburgh concert programmes not long after this. He removed to
Dublin sometime in 1805, and died there in 1816. Burns seems to have met
him first in 1793, when he was on his tour iu Galloway. In that year, at
any-' rate, the poet wrote to Thomson: ' He is, entre nous, a narrow,
conceited creature; but he sings so delightfully that whatever he
introduces at your concert [i.e., the St. Cecilia Concerts] must have
immediate celebrity.' In the same letter Burns tells Thomson that Urbani
' looks with rather an evil eye' on his collection, which was likely
enough, seeing that Urbani and Thomson were both rivals for public
favour. It was Urbani who, on being shown by Burns the air of 'Scots,
wha hae,' begged him to 'make soft verses for it.'
The first volume of the
Italian's 'Selection of Scots songs harmonised and improved, with simple
and adapted graces,' etc., appeared about the end of the century. The
second volume was entered at Stationer's Hall in 1794, so that the
initial volume was probably published about 1792. The work extended
finally to six folio volumes, the last volume being published in 1804.
It contained upwards of 150 Scottish melodies with their associated
songs. The airs were all harmonised by Urbani himself, the harmonies
being filled up in notes for the right hand ; and the first four
volumes, iu addition to the pianoforte part, had accompaniments for two
violins and a viola. The number and kind of instruments were rather
novel, but still more novel at that time was the filling up of the
harmonies, aud the addition of introductory and concluding symphonies to
the airs. Even in the collection of William Napier, the first volume of
which was published in 1790, there were no opening or closing
symphonies, and the harmony consisted merely of what was called a '
figured bass' for the harpsichord. These 'figured basses' could only be
interpreted by musicians, so that in the matter of accompaniments the
amateurs of last century were left to shift for themselves.
Napier's was rather an
important work. The first volume contained 81 songs, and the airs were
harmonised by four professional musicians, who, together, represented a
somewhat varied nationality. There were Dr. Samuel Arnold and William
Shields, both Englishmen ; there was Thomas Carter, an Irishman; and
there was F. H. Barthelemon, a Frenchman, who is described as 'a
singular character and a Swedenborgian.' The second volume, issued in
1792, contained one hundred airs, all harmonised by Haydn, who was
presently to do so much work of the same kind for Thomson.
Of Johnson's Museum it is
hardly necessary to speak, that work being so well known from the
intimate connection which Burns had with it. Though the last volume did
not appear until 1803, the first was issued as early as 1787, so that
Thomson probably included the work among the unsatisfactory collections
of which he afterwards wrote. He certainly had a very low opinion of the
Museum, though I am not aware that his views on the matter have ever
before been made public. In the copies of his own letters in my
possession, the work is several times referred to, and always in
opprobrious terms. Thus, in a letter dated September 7, 1821, he speaks
of it as ' an omnium gatherum in six volumes, containing a number of
tawdry songs which I would be ashamed to publish.' It is, he presumes,'
as much a book for topers as for pianoforte players.' It was 'brought
out in a miserable style, and without letterpress,' and yet, he is
pained to add, it has ' had a good sale at seven shillings per volume.'
Tirades of this kind are abundant in the correspondence, but there is no
need to dwell on the matter. The Museum was Thomson's most serious
rival, and one who reads between the lines can see quite well that
Thomson was chagrined at having to share with Johnson the honour of
having Burns as a contributor. He did not appear to realise that in
condemning the Museum, he was to some extent condemning Burns, who, as
everybody knows, was practically the editor of the earlier volumes. At
the same time, there is no doubt that the Museum did leave a good deal
to be desired alike as to the purity and taste of its contents and the
unattractive character of its 'get up.'
It was in the year 1792
that Thomson seriously set about arranging for the publication of a
collection of national song. At the outset he was not the only moving
spirit of the concern. This much, indeed, we learn from the first letter
which he wrote to Burns. ' For some years past,' he tells the poet, ' I
have with a friend or two employed my leisure hours in collating and
collecting the most favourite of our national melodies for publication.'
So far as I know, the identity of only one of Thomson's coadjutors has
been established. This was the Honourable Andrew Erskine, a brother of
the musical Earl of Kellie. Erskine was a well-known wit and versifier
of the period, who had settled in Edinburgh after having served for some
time in the army. He was on intimate terms with James Boswell, and in
1763 published his correspondence with that prince of biographers. He is
described as ' a silent, dull man, much beloved by his friends, and,
like David Hume, extremely fond of children.' Unhappily, he was
extremely fond of gambling as well, and it appears to have been some
losses in that way which led him in 1793 to drown himself in the Forth.
Thomson probably looked to Erskine to share with him the financial risks
of the intended collection ; but in any case, the former was soon
writing to tell Burns that he had been left entirely alone in the
carrying out of the scheme. How he went to work in order to get the
required songs, we all know from the letters he addressed to Burns, and
those sent to him by the poet in reply. With these letters it is quite
unnecessary to deal here, so familiar .have they become to the students
aud admirers of Burns. It is enough to say that Bums addressed in all
fifty-six letters to Thomson. Dr. Currie, in printing Thomson's letters
to the poet, remarks that they were 'arranged for the Press by Slr.
Thomson.' What the term 'arranged' exactly signifies no one can say, but
at anyrate, without having some unmistakeable evidence of the fact, I do
not think we are entitled to suggest, as some writers have suggested,
that Thomson tampered with the original text of the letters. Why should
he '? The insinuation is of course made by those who want to bring out
that he dealt unfairly with Burns, but Burns's letters to Thomson are
extant, exactly as he wrote them, and they are as clear upon a certain
point as even Thomson himself could have wished to make them. Besides,
we are entitled to regard a man as a gentleman, until we have proved him
to be otherwise, and I see nothing in Thomson's life or in his
voluminous correspondence, now in my hands, to suggest that he was ever
actuated by anything but the highest principles of honour.
And this brings me to an
important point. During his own lifetime, Thomson suffered a good deal
from the charge that he had taken an unfair advantage of Burns by
accepting so much from the poet without making him any pecuniary return.
The charge still hangs about Thomson's name in a vague kind of way, for
in matters of this kind the dog who has once acquired an evil reputation
is likely to retain it. In Messrs. Henley and Henderson's recently
published edition of Burns, the editors, speaking of Thomson's first
letter to the poet, and of the reply of Burns declining payment, remark
that Thomson answered so-and-so, ' but as he says nothing of Burns'
admirable generosity, it is reasonable to infer that the idea of payment
would have been unwelcome to his mind.' It is reasonable to infer
nothing of the kind. Thomson never sought to take an undue advantage of
any one. His letters to his other poetical correspondents, in my
possession, show that when they declined money, as, like Burns, they did
for the most part, he made them presents, which in some cases must have
cost him far more than the recipient's work was really worth. Beethoven
and Haydu exacted terms from him in keeping with their exalted position
in the musical world, yet when he writes to Hummel and to Kozeluch,
nonentities as compared with these giants, he offers them—and says he is
offering them—exactly the same terms. Why, then, are we to 'infer' that
the idea of remunerating Burns would have been ' unwelcome to his mind.'
As a matter of fact,
Thomson did in regard to Burns everything that it was possible for him
to do in the circumstances. From the very outset it was his explicit
desire to pay Burns. He says so, and there is nothing in his
after-conduct to belie his words. When he first wrote to the poet in
September, xxx. 9 1792, enlisting his aid on behalf of the new
enterprise, he said expressly:
'We shall esteem your
poetical assistance a particular favour, besides paying any reasonable
price you shall please to demand for it. Profit is quite a secondary
consideration with us ; and we are resolved to spare neither pains nor
expense on the publication.'
This, surely, is
perfectly clear. But how did Burns receive the suggestion? Writing to
Thomson immediately after the receipt of his letter, he declares that
the request for assistance will ' positively add to my enjoyments in
complying with it;' and he adds that he will enter into the undertaking
with such abilities as he possesses, ' strained to their utmost exertion
by the impulse of enthusiasm.' It is quite apparent that Bums was as
anxious to be of use to Thomson as Thomson was to avail himself of his
aid. But the poet is even more explicit on the matter. He says:
'As to remuneration, you
may think my songs either above or below price; for they shall
absolutely be the one or the other. In the honest enthusiasm with which
I embark in your undertaking, to talk of money, wages, fee, hire, etc.,
would be downright sodomy of soul!'
This also was plain
enough. But we do not find that Thomson was anxious to take advantage of
the fine independent spirit of the poet as thus exemplified. On the
contrary, when the first volume of songs was published, containing six
pieces from Burns's pen, Thomson, to use his own words, ' ventured with
all possible delicacy to send him a pecuniary present, notwithstanding
what he had said on that subject/ On this point the original letter,
which is dated 1st July, 1793, may be quoted. Thomson writes to the
poet:
'I cannot express how
much I am obliged to you for the exquisite new songs you are sending me
; but thanks, my friend, are a poor return for what you have done. As I
shall be benefited by the publication, you must suffer me to enclose a
small mark of my gratitude [the sum sent was £5], and to repeat it
afterwards when I find it convenient. Do not return it, for by heaven!
if you do, our correspondence is at an end; and though this would be no
loss to you, it would mar the publication, which, under your auspices,
cannot fail to be respectable and interesting.'
And yet Messrs. Henley
and Henderson can 'infer' that the idea of payment would have been
unwelcome! Burns replied to this as one would have expected him to reply
after reading his first letter to Thomson. This is what he says:
'I assure you, my dear
sir, that you truly hurt me with your pecuniary parcel. It degrades me
in my own eyes. However, to return it would savour of bombast
affectation ; but, as to any more traffic of that debtor and creditor
kind, I swear by that Honor which crowns the upright statue of Robert
Burns' Integrity—on the least motion of it, I will indignantly spurn the
by-past transaction, and from that moment commence entire stranger to
you! Bums' character for generosity of sentiment and independence of
mind will, I trust, long outlive any of his wants which the cold
unfeeling one can supply; at least I shall take care that such a
character he shall deserve.'
Proud as Burns was it
must have cost him something in the way of self-denial to write this
letter. Though his salary as an exciseman was only £70 per annum, he was
certainly not so poor as he is sometimes represented to have been. Yet,
as his biographers have shown, at this very date, that is to say in July
1703, a few pounds would have been of material service to him. ' It will
be readily admitted,' says Mr. William Wallace (Chambers' Burns, iii.
440), ' that Burns could never have been comfortable under the burden of
even the smallest debt. Yet there is evidence that the trifle (10s.) due
to Jackson of the Dumfries Journal for advertising the sale of his stock
at Ellisland was now, after twenty months, still unpaid. It was
discharged on the 12th July, probably out of the very money transmitted
by Thomson.' All this, however, only shows to better effect the highly
honourable sentiment which animated him in his dealings with the
Edinburgh amateur. Lockhart and others have expressed their surprise at
the poet's persistent repudiation of the pecuniary obligation which
Thomson so clearly admitted. They quote Burns as admitting to Carfrae
that ' the profits of the labours of a man of genius are, I hope, as
honourable as auy profits whatever;' and they remind us that he made no
scruples about accepting hundreds of pounds from Creech on account of
his poems.
But there was manifestly
some difference between accepting the profits of a work published in the
ordinary course of business and taking money from an amateur enthusiast,
whose pecuniary success must have been felt by Burns to be purely
problematical. He had declined to accept payment from Johnson, and
afterwards found his justification in the fact that the Museum was not a
pronounced commercial success. Was it not as likely—nay, was it not more
likely—that Thomson's venture would prove an unprofitable enterprise ?
The truth is that Burns declined to write deliberately for money : he
would—in a patriotic undertaking of this kind, at anyrate—write for love
or not write at all. If his poems brought him a profit—well, they were
not written with that profit in view: the pecuniary return was, as it
were, but an after-accident, welcome, no doubt, but still not affecting
in any way the inception of the work. This was his view of the matter as
expressed to Thomson, and he expressed it to others. In a brief memoir
of the poet which appears in the Scots Magazine for January 1797, the
statement is expressly made that he considered it beneath him to be an
author by profession. ' A friend,' says the anonymous writer, ' knowing
his family to be in great want [an exaggeration, certainly], urged the
propriety, and even necessity, of publishing a few poems, assuring him
of their success, and showing the advantage that would accrue to his
family from it. His answer was—"No ; if a friend desires me, and if I'm
in the mood for it, I'll write a poem; but I'll be d-d if I write for
money.'"
What, then, in the
circumstances, was to be expected of Thomson further? He had gone as far
with Burns as it was prudent for him to go in the interests of his own
enterprise; and if he now kept silence on the pecuniary question, it was
certainly not because he failed to realise his obligation. When at last
he had an opportunity of rewarding the poet he did what was asked of him
cheerfully and with alacrity. Burns —ill, and trying to get along on
half of his salary as an exciseman, threatened by a lawyer on account of
a paltry tailor's bill of £7 9s.—wrote in despair to his cousin, James
Burness, and to Thomson. He asked £5 from Thomson, and Thomson sent that
sum 'instantly,' he says, 'by the very first post after it was asked.'
He has been blamed for not sending more. But remember his position. He
was a married man with a young family growing up around him. He was only
a clerk, with certainly a great deal less than the £300 a year which we
have found he was being paid in 1824. Lord Cockburn speaks of his salary
as being at the time 'a very humble income,' but 'humble' is, of course,
a comparative term. At anyrate the amount is not likely to have been
over £200. Moreover, whatever Thomson expected his national collection
to become (and I have the clearest evidence to show that he eventually
lost considerably by it), the work was at the time all risk and all
outlay. The outlay was growing and grew to be enormous, especially on
the musical side, so as to almost justify Thomson's friends iu
impeaching his prudence with having anything to do with it. Remembering
all this, we cannot fail to see that it was not a situation in which
Thomson was entitled to be ostentatious in his donations and to hold
himself out as if he were the wealthy patron of this neglected poet. As
a matter of fact (and it may surprise a good many people to hear it),
Thomson had actually to borrow the £5 which he sent to Burns.
The statement is made in
a letter of June 30th, 1843, addressed to Messrs. Blackie, the Glasgow
publishers, who were then preparing an edition of Burns. There is a long
reference in the letter to Professor Wilson's essay on the poet, in the
course of which we come upon this :
'The poet afterwards, in
his last illness, condescended on an emergency to ask me for five
pounds, and perhaps the Professor thinks I was to blame for not sending
more than the sum asked. If this has provoked his ire, I would merely
say that I was not then burdened with money, and had to borrow of a
friend the £5 I sent. And on consulting two of the poet's most intimate
friends whether I should enlarge the sum they both were of opinion that
if I sent more than the poet asked there would be a greater risque of
offending than of pleasing him.'
On the Athole, then,
taking a generous and common-sense view of the situation, I think we
must exonerate Thomson from any charge of unfair dealing with Burns.
Lord Cockburn put the whole matter very well in the speech which he made
on the occasion of the public presentation of a piece of plate to
Thomson in 1847. 'We must above and beyond all,' he said, 'remember the
kind of man with whom Thomson had to deal. We must consider a man
morbidly sensitive upon the subject of what he called his independence,
glowing with indignation at every appearance of pecuniary assistance,
and boasting, even under the united pressure of disease and poverty,
that he was Robert Burxs, who would never ask any pecuniary help, and
would scorn it were it offered. Placing the two men in their respective
situations, I repeat it as my conviction,' said Lord Cockburn, 'as I
believe it will be the conviction of posterity, that our friend on this
occasion acted up to the character he has shown upon every occasion—that
of a sensible, a judicious, and a liberal man.' Liberal, that is,
according to his circumstances. The impression seems to have got abroad
that Thomson became a highly prosperous old gentleman, and a kind of
post facto criticism of the Burns business has been the result in some
quarters. Mr. Scott Douglas says (Burns, vi., 214) that, '.whatever was
his financial condition about the period of Burns's death, when poverty
was made a plea to shelter him from charges of peuuriousuess in his
dealings with the poet and his family he certainly soon thereafter
attained a prosperous worldly position.' His correspondence certainly
gives no indication of such a prosperous condition—rather the reverse.
He is often pressed for money, and wants to sell his copyrights in
consequence ; and even as late as 1847 I find from letters addressed to
Robert Chambers (which Mr. C. E. S. Chambers has most courteously
allowed me to see) that he felt it expedient to try to turn the pictures
on his walls into cash. Let us not iu our blind worship of Burus be
unfair to Thomson. There was no more enthusiastic admirer of the poet
than he, and he gave himself a good deal of trouble in defending the
character of the poet from the imputations cast upon it by Allan
Cunningham and others. That lie was entirely honourable, I am fully
persuaded.
It has been asserted by
several of the Burns biographers that Thomson never saw Burns. In a
letter of Thomson to the poet, dated May 1795, there is the following
sentence apropos of Allan's sketch of ' The Cotter's Saturday Night,'
which Thomson was sending to Burns: ' The figure intended for your
portrait I think strikingly like you, as far as I can remember the phiz.'
The inference is clear enough, namely that Thomson is speaking of some
occasion when he had seen or met the poet. But Scott Douglas in printing
the letter (Vol. vi. p. 340) appends this foot-note :
'That is to say—"As I
remember the phiz in Beugo's engraving from Nasmyth's picture;" for he
never saw Burns in the flesh.'
Scott Douglas is entirely
in error. In the sixth volume of Hogg's Instructor (1851, page 409)
appears a long letter from Thomson, mainly on the old subject of his
alleged 'penurious dealings' with Burns. To that letter the following
postscript is added by the writer : ' The charms of Burns's conversation
may well make us regret that he was not, like Johnson, attended by a
Boswell. 1 speak from experience, for I once had the delight to dine in
a small party loith him' The italics, of course, are mine. I have been
unable to trace the occasion of the meeting, but it was no doubt in
Edinburgh at the time of Burns's blaze of popularity in the capital.
In the interests of his
collection Thomson corresponded with many other poet celebrities besides
Burns. Scott, of course, was on the spot, and the letters to and from
him are not very numerous. Sir Walter was always ready with a promise to
write for any melody which Thomson might assign him with a view to
words; but promise was one thing, performance another and quite a
different thing. Thomson writes again and again to urge the peccant
Pegasus, and even offers to call at Castle Street to sing over the
melody requiring to be mated. The same thing happened with Lockhart; aud
in the end Thomson is found declaring that Scott and Lockhart had not a
single note of music between them ! Hogg was more pliable (as well as
more musical—for did he not play the fiddle ?) and indeed sent Thomson a
great deal more than he could use. Byron was tried, and eventually,
after sundry urgent reminders of his promise, declared that any attempt
to fulfil his promise would be hazardous. Song-writing is not a species
of work he undervalues; on the contrary, Burns and Moore have shown that
' even their splendid talents may acquire additional reputation from
this exercise of their powers.' But as for himself—well, nothing but his
' most decided conviction that both you and I would regret it could have
prevented me from long ago contributing to your volume.' Moure is ' very
much flattered ' at the idea of ' being associated in any way with
Haydn,' and promises to write several songs, but his letters show more
interest iu Jeffrey and the Edinburgh Review (for obvious reasons) than
in Thomson's work.
Joanna Baillie, Mrs.
Hunter, Mrs. Opie, and Mrs Grant of Laggan, are amongst the ladies whose
pens were called into requisition by Thomson. There is much that is
interesting in this section of the correspondence, but I will deal with
one point only. In the year 1844 there was published the Memoir and
Correspondence of Mrs. Grant of Laggan, edited by her son, John P.
Grant, then a W.S. in Edinburgh. Now there is before me a letter of
Thomson's dated from Brighton, 10th March 1844, and addressed to J. P.
Grant, complaining that, while he was almost solely instrumental iu
carrying through the publication and subscription of Mrs. Grant's volume
of Poems issued after her husband's death, his name and his efforts in
the matter have been entirely ignored in the memoir. Thomson says that
he was iu fact the editor of the volume—that Mrs. Grant sent him all her
manuscripts, which he arranged and put into the printer's hands.' He
continues:
'When proofs were sent me
from time to time, however, and I had thus to examine every line closely
and critically, I found that a good deal of pruning and little
alterations and re-touchings were necessary in order to produce a more
clear connection of the parts than the original manuscript contained,
all which, of course, I regularly transmitted to your mother for her
consideration and directions, till at length the volume was completed to
her entire satisfaction. And never was man more gratified than when all
the subscription papers were returned to me containing the largest
number of names that any literary work, with the exception perhaps of
Burns's Poems, ever obtained in Scotland.'
I do not suppose that any
one reads Mrs. Grant's poems now, but all the same it seems right that
Thomson should have credit for what he declares to have occupied all the
leisure hours of a twelvemonth.
Having decided upon his
plan in regard to the words of his songs, the next question with Thomson
was as to the arrangement of the music. And here he decided to go at
once to the fountain-head. No second-rate native musician would suit
him: he must have his work done by the eminent Continental composers,
whose names were familiar to music lovers all the world over. Thomson's
correspondence with these notabilities would in itself make an
interesting little volume. The most prominent name is, of course, that
of Beethoven. When he wrote to the composer in 1803, he had already
published arrangements of Scottish airs by Pleyel and Kozeluch, and with
the true eye of a man of business, he was now anxious to obtain from a
greater and more famous musician than either six sonatas on Scottish
themes. Beethoven replied offering to compose the sonatas for three
hundred ducats (£150) the lot, but Thomson was not inclined to give more
than half that sum, and with an intimation of this fact, the
correspondence ceased, to be resumed in 1810 when Beethoven began on the
Scottish airs. In passing, it may be remarked that all the artists with
whom Thomson established communication showed a fine concern for the
commercial side of the business. When Baron Tauchnitz, the German
publisher, once asked Thackeray to excuse him for his badly-written
letters, Thackeray promptly replied—' Do not be afraid of your English.
A letter containing £ s. d. is always in pretty style.' So, in effect,
said Thomson's correspondents. Beethoven remarks that he will always
state his terms ' with the frankness aud precision which I like in
business matters,' asking Thomson to accept the assurance that he is
dealing with an artist who yet 'loves to be honourably paid.'
Beethoven, indeed,
debates more about his fees than any of the other composers. Thomson, it
appears, had asked him to make his accompaniments to the Scottish airs
less difficult; but the master replies that ' the task to render them
easier is always a worry to me ;' and, in short, the easier the music
the stiffer must be the honorarium ! Thomson, with the view of inviting
a compromise, told him that Kozeluch was doing accompaniments for ten
ducats (five shillings) each, but this made him only sarcastic. ' I
esteem myself,' he says, ' something superior to the genre of M.
Kozeluch (miserabilis!) and I hope and believe you to possess some
distinction that you are able to do me so much justice.' Haydn, the
other notable correspondent of Thomson, is not quite so mercenary as to
details, but he, too, makes it perfectly clear that he does not mean to
work for nothing. It is true that in one letter he expresses regret that
' in this world I am obliged to work for any one who pays me;' but he
immediately adds by way of hint that Mr. Whyte (of Edinburgh) gives him
two guineas for each air, or double the sum paid by Thomson. In 1802 he
dispatches thirty-two airs to Edinburgh, and 'would be very pleased if"
you would send me the money quickly, which amounts in all to forty
guineas.' At one time he made up his mind not to do any more work for
Thomson, ' the price hitherto paid not being in proportion to the time
and trouble which his compositions cost him;' and tbe veteran was only
mollified by Thomson making him, on the suggestion of the British
Ambassador at Vienna, a present of a dozen handkerchiefs, which he
specially wanted to get. And speaking of handkerchiefs, Thomson made an
awkward mistake when, iu 1803, he sent him some as a gift to Frau Haydn.
' 'Mv poor wife,' wrote the composer, ' has already been three years
under the sod.' It is pathetic to find Haydn remarking in 1804 that he
would like still before his death to do at least a dozen more airs for
Thomson. 'Great things I can no more undertake; my old age makes me
increasingly weak.' Haydn lived for five years after this, but his days
were passed in a continual struggle with the infirmities of age. Hummel
was another of the eminent musicians whom Thomson engaged for his
undertakings. He, too, complains about Thomson's low prices, and hopes
that Thomson ' will do me justice and raise the honoraire something
more.' He is the only one of the great musiciaus who attempts to write
in English, aud he makes rather a mess of it, as, from his begging for
excuse, he evidently himself suspected. Hummel was a pupil of Mozart,
and for some time Beethoven's rival in love matters, having married a
sister of the singer Roeckel, to whom Beethoven was also much attached.
It is hardly necessary to
say that the accompaniments and arrangements thus provided by the great
masters made the most expensive item in connection with Thomson's
collection. Unlike the poets, not one of them would work without
pecuniary reward; nor did
Thomson ever suggest to them that they should. Even when he askes such
comparatively small men as Bishop and R. A. Smith to do something for
him he generally sends the honorarium with the request. This is clearly
brought out in the correspondence, and I insist on it again in view of
the discreditable insinuations thrown at him by Mr. Henley and others.
But to return. In my opinion Thomson paid the great Continental
musicians quite as much as their efforts were worth, but it was only
natural that they should value themselves more highly than it was
possible for the lovers of Scottish national music to value them. It is
calculated that, at the lowest estimate, Beethoven must have received
for his share in Thomson's publications not less than £550 ; Haydn can
hardly have had much under £300 ; while the other payments to Weber,
Plegel, Kozeluch, Hummel, Bishop, and Hogarth, who all had a hand at one
time or other iu the accompaniments, must have run up the total costs of
the music alone to considerably over £1000. Even Burns's Jolly Beggars,
music by Bishop, cost £60. When we add to all this the costs of
production and other incidental expenses, and recall the fact that
Thomson kept the distribution of the work entirely in his own hands—a
very ineffective business, as I can clearly see—we need not be surprised
to find him trying frantically to get rid of his burden, even at an
immense sacrifice, and admitting iu a public speech, not long before his
death, that he could never get his money back.
The demand for such
works, limited even now, was far more limited then, when the number of
musical amateurs was much fewer than it is now. Nor can it be said that
the collection had all the claims on the public which its editor so
frequently urges in his correspondence. In spite of Thomson's very
natural opinion to the contrary, the unbiassed critic cannot blind
himself to the fact that the Continental masters whom he employed were
not altogether happy in their attempts to adorn the Scottish airs. They
failed in many instances to catch the characteristic style of the music,
and although in some cases they managed to hit the proper vein, their
work, as a whole, only proves again that the greater the genius when
misapplied, the more signal is the failure likely to be. Even Thomson
himself came to see this in the case of Beethoven. In a letter of 1821
he says sadly : ' I have no expectation of ever receiving any benefit
from what Beethoven has done for me. He composes for posterity. I hoped
that his gigantic genius would bend and accommodate itself to the simple
character of national melodies, but in general he has been too learned
and eccentric for my purpose, and all my gold ducats have been thrown
away, besides the expense of engraving, printing, and paper.' Alas ! not
even for posterity did Beethoven and these other masters write in this
particular case. The Thomson collections are totally neglected, and
although some of Beethoven's arrangements for them have been rescued by
his admirers iu Germany, they really survive only in the thematic
catalogue of his works. Thomson, as I believe, made quite a mistake in
going abroad for his musical work, but his mistake is not so uncommon
even in these days, and in any case he suffered the penalty.
Thomson's collection was
a large and handsome work in six volumes folio, each volume having an
engraved frontispiece, besides smaller engraved embellishments. The
first volume was published in 1793, while the last did not appear until
1841! A cheap edition, containing such airs as had been issued up to
that time, was published in 1822, in six volumes royal octavo. Thomson
also edited collections of Welsh and Irish melodies, but these, the
Welsh especially (in 3 volumes), were far from successful. In his
letters he is especially severe on the Welsh people for their apathy,
but the truth is that Thomson was lacking in the requisite
qualifications for the editing of a Welsh collection. He did not know
the Welsh dialect; he was imperfectly acquainted with the
already-existing stores of Welsh melody; and in the collecting of airs
for his work he put himself to a great extent at the mercy of
correspondents iu Wales, who might or might not be qualified to advise
him. The Irish collection I have not seen, but as the late Sir Robert P.
Stewart, the Dublin University Professor of Music, charges the editor
with being 'careless or incompetent' in the matter of the text of the
airs, I am afraid we must conclude that Thomson was here also on
unfamiliar ground.
A few miscellaneous notes
may now be gathered together in closing. Scott and Thomson were warm
friends, and several of his letters show that he had been in the habit
of calling frequently on the great novelist. He was often at James
Ballantyne's table along with Scott and other celebrities of the time,
and Lockhart tells of one supper at which ' old George Thomson, the
friend of Burns,' was ready with ' The Moorland Wedding,' or ' Willie
brewed a peck o' mant,' for the benefit of the guests. Thomson appears
to have been an excellent 'company' man in this respect. Mr. George
Croal, of Edinburgh, tells in his recent reminiscences of having, as a
comparatively young man, met him at supper oue evening. Thomson was then
an octogenarian, but notwithstanding, ' seemed to be in the full
enjoyment of all the amenities of social life.' On the occasion to which
Mr. Croal refers, he sang the song of' Muirland Willie ' with great
spirit, and with all the humour it demands. At home he was in his
element with his fiddle, and he got quite enthusiastic with such of his
guests as could take a part with him in his favourite compositions. In a
letter to Robert Chambers, he remarks that Mrs. Chambers being musical,
he ought to know her; and, inviting the couple to spend an evening with
him, he begs that Mrs. Chambers will send some of her music before her,
so that he may practise and be in readiness. He was one of the directors
of the first Edinburgh musical festival held between the 30th October
and the 5th November, 1815, and much of the success of the gathering was
undoubtedly due to him. According to the Scots Magazine, the festival
created such excitement that ' for many miles round in all directions
there was not a post horse to be had on any roads, and before the
Festival began, the hotels, inns and lodging-houses were so full that,
unless in private houses, there was absolutely not room for another
individual.' George Hogarth, Thomson's son-in-law, and at this time a
'Writer to the Signet, was one of the secretaries of this phenomenal
festival, so that between them the pair are entitled to no small credit
for the successful issue of the affair. Why, it may be asked, should
Scotland not have such festivals now?
Thomson died at Leith on
the 18th of February, 1851, at the patriarchal age of ninety-four. After
his retirement in 1839 he took up his residence in London, but he
thought the streets too dangerous for a man of his years, and when his
wife died in 1841, he let his house and went to Brighton. Brighton did
not suit him either. Writing to his son William, in August, 1844, he
says: 'I am weary of Brighton, where there are handsome buildings no
doubt, but little else to look at, except the sea, without ships, which
are only to be seen dimly in the far offing as they pass up and down the
channel: no meadows, gardens, plantations, shrubberies, or any rural
scenery, which I long to see again. . . . If I get the house I am in
sub-let before winter, we shall be off to good old Scot-laud again,
where I shall be much more safe [compared, that is, with Loudon] during
the remainder of my evening of life.' He does not forget to add either
that in Scotland he can live so much more economically : ' Goals, which
Ave get for ten shillings a ton there, cost us thirty shillings here.' A
friend from Ireland had told him that there a pair of fowls might be had
for sixpence, and lamb at threepence per pound; but then the people in
Ireland are ' cruelly governed and oppressed' (Thomson was evidently a
Home Ruler), and after all there is no place like 'bonnie Scotland.' And
so Thomson returned to Edinburgh. He had laid his wife to rest in Kensal
Green Cemetery ' on the spot next to that which belongs to Charles
Dickens, Esq.' There now rests also the old gentleman in the
scratch-wig, who saw Carlyle as a youth in Annan and did not know that
he saw a coming celebrity.
J. Cuthbert Hadden. |
