In the Willey whipper-in Dibdin found the same unsophisticated bit of primitive nature cropping up which he so successfully brought out in his portraits of salt-water heroes; he found the same spirit differently manifested; for had Moody served in the cock-pit, the gun-room, on deck, or at the windlass, he would have been a “Ben Backstay” or a “Poor Jack”—from that singleness of aim and daring which actuated him. How clearly Dibdin set forth this sentiment in that stanza of the song of “Poor Jack,” in which the sailor, commenting upon the sermon of the chaplain, draws this conclusion:—
“D’ye mind me, a sailor should be, every inch,
All as one as a piece of a ship;
And, with her, brave the world without off’ring to flinch,
From the moment the anchor’s a-trip.
As to me, in all weathers, all times, tides, and ends,
Nought’s a trouble from duty that springs;
My heart is my Poll’s, and my rhino my friend’s,
And as for my life, ’tis my King’s.”
The country was indebted to this faculty of rhyming for much of that daring and devotion to its interests which distinguished soldiers and sailors at that remarkable period. Dibdin’s songs, as he, with pride, was wont to say, were “the solace of sailors on long voyages, in storms, and in battles.” His “Tom Moody” illustrated the same pluck and daring which under the vicissitudes and peculiarities of the times—had it been Tom’s fortune to have served under Drake or Blake, Howe, Jervis, or Nelson—would equally have supplied materials for a stave.
From the letter of the Squire the reader will see how truthfully the great English Beranger, as he has been called, adhered to the circumstances in his song:—
“You all knew Tom Moody, the whipper-in, well.
The bell that’s done tolling was honest Tom’s knell;
A more able sportsman ne’er followed a hound
Through a country well known to him fifty miles round.
No hound ever open’d with Tom near a wood,
But he’d challenge the tone, and could tell if it were good;
And all with attention would eagerly mark,
When he cheer’d up the pack, ‘Hark! to Rockwood, hark! hark!
Hie!—wind him! and cross him! Now, Rattler, boy! Hark!’“Six crafty earth-stoppers, in hunter’s green drest,
Supported poor Tom to an earth made for rest.
His horse, which he styled his ‘Old Soul,’ next appear’d,
On whose forehead the brush of his last fox was rear’d:
Whip, cap, boots, and spurs, in a trophy were bound,
And here and there followed an old straggling hound.
Ah! no more at his voice yonder vales will they trace!
Nor the welkin resound his burst in the chase!
With high over! Now press him! Tally-ho! Tally-ho!“Thus Tom spoke his friends ere he gave up his breath:
‘Since I see you’re resolved to be in at the death,
One favour bestow—’tis the last I shall crave,
Give a rattling view-halloo thrice over my grave;
And unless at that warning I lift up my head,
My boys, you may fairly conclude I am dead!’
Honest Tom was obeyed, and the shout rent the sky,
For every one joined in the tally-ho cry!
Tally-ho! Hark forward! Tally-ho! Tally-ho!”
On leaving Willey, Mr. Forester asked Dibdin what he could do to discharge the obligation he felt himself under for his services; the great ballad writer, whom Pitt pensioned, replied “Nothing;” he had been so well treated that he could not accept anything. Finding artifice necessary, Mr. Forester asked him if he would deliver a letter for him personally at his banker’s on his arrival in London. Of course Dibdin consented, and on doing so he found it was an order to pay him £100!
When the song first came out Charles Incledon, by the “human voice divine,” was drawing vast audiences at Drury Lane Theatre. On play-bills, in largest type, forming the most attractive morceaux of the bill of fare, this song, varied by others of Dibdin’s composing, would be seen; and when he was first announced to sing it, a few fox-hunting friends of the Squire went to London to hear it. Taking up their positions in the pit, they were all attention as the inimitable singer rolled out, with that full volume of voice which at once delighted and astounded his audience, the verse commencing:—
“You all knew Tom Moody the whipper-in well.”
But the great singer did not succeed to the satisfaction of the small knot of Shropshire fox-hunters in the “tally-ho chorus.” Detecting the technical defect which practical experience in the field alone could supply, they jumped upon the stage, and gave the audience a specimen of what Shropshire lungs could do.
The song soon became popular. It seized at once upon the sporting mind, and upon the mind of the country generally. The London publishers took it up, and gave it with the music, together with woodcuts and lithographic illustrations, and it soon found a ready sale. But the illustrations were untruthful. The church was altogether a fancy sketch, exceedingly unlike the quaint old simple structure still standing. A print published by Wolstenholme, in 1832, contains a very faithful representation of the church on the northern side, with the grave, and a large gathering of sportsmen and spectators, at the moment the “view halloo” is supposed to have been given. It is altogether spiritedly drawn and well coloured, and makes a pleasing subject; but the view is taken on the wrong side of the church, the artist having evidently chosen this, the northern side, because of the distance and middle distance, and in order to make a taking picture. The view has this advantage, however, it shows the Clee Hills in the distance. Tom’s grave is covered by a simple slab, containing the following inscription,