A Mrs. K * * * y, a lady then d’âge mûr, but moving in the best society of Ireland, sat on a chair behind Moore: I watched her profile: her lips quavered in unison with the piano; a sort of amiable convulsion, now and then raising the upper from the under lip, composed a smile less pleasing than expressive; her eye softened, glazed,—and half melting she whispered to herself the following words, which I, standing at the back of her chair, could not avoid hearing: “Dear, dear!” lisped Mrs. K * * * y, “Moore, this is not for the good of my soul!”
Almost involuntarily, I ejaculated in the same low tone, “What is not, Mrs. K * * * y?”
“You know well enough!” she replied (but without blushing, as people used to do formerly); “how can you ask so silly a question?” and she turned into the crowd, but never came near the piano again that night.
I greatly admire the national, indeed patriotic idea, of collecting and publishing the Irish Melodies, so admirably acted on by Mr. T. Moore; and it were to be wished that some of them had the appearance of having been written more enthusiastically.[[28]]
Sir John Stevenson, that celebrated warbler, has melodised a good many of these; but he certainly has forgotten poor Carolan, and has also melo-dramatised a considerable portion. I think our rants and planxties would have answered just as well without either symphonies or chromatics, and that the plaintive national music of Ireland does not reach the heart a moment the sooner for passing through a crowd of scientific variations. Tawdry and modern upholstery would not be very appropriate to the ancient tower of an Irish chieftain; and some of Sir John’s proceedings in melodising simplicity, remind me of the Rev. Doctor Hare, who whitewashed the great rock of Cashell to give it a genteel appearance against the visitation.
As I do not attempt (I ought to say presume) to be a literary, so am I still less a musical critic: but I know what pleases myself, and in that species of criticism I cannot be expected to yield to any body.
As to my own authorship, I had business more important than writing books in my early life: but now, in my old days, it is my greatest amusement, and nothing would give me more satisfaction than hearing the free and fair remarks of the critics on my productions.
[28]. I allude to the public trial as to copyright, by Mr. Power, when it was stated that Mr. Moore wrote the Melodies for so much a year. They are certainly very unequal.