(From “The Rectory Umbrella”)
The nineteenth century has produced a new school of music, bearing
about the same relation to the genuine article which the hash or stew
of Monday does to the joint of Sunday.[21]
We allude, of course, to the prevalent practice of diluting the works
of earlier composers with washy modern variations, so as to suit the
weakened and depraved taste of this generation; this invention is
termed “setting” by some, who, scorning the handsome offer of Alexander
Smith to “set this age to music,” have determined to set music to this
age.
Sadly we admit the stern necessity that exists for such a change; with
stern prophetic eye we see looming in the shadowy Future the downfall
of the sister Fine Arts. The National Gallery have already subjected
some of their finest pictures to this painful operation. Poetry must
follow.
That we may not be behind others in forwarding the progress of
Civilisation, we boldly discard all personal and private feelings,
and with quivering pen and tear-dimmed eye we dedicate the following
composition to the Spirit of the Age, and to that noble band of gallant
adventurers who aspire to lead the van in the great march of reform.
[21] What _would_ Mr. Carroll have said with regard to the epileptic
style in musical composition which is in vogue in this present year of
grace? Possibly he would have been “inspired” to write a companion poem
to “Jabberwocky,” with the Demon of Jazz as its “manxome foe.”