Thomas Moore- Collected Poetical Works

by Thomas Moore

  “The other night, at a ball, I was presented by order to our gracious Regent, who honoured me with some conversation, and professed a predilection for poetry. — I confess it was a most unexpected honour, and I thought of poor B —— s’s adventure, with some apprehension of a similar blunder, I have now great hope, in the event of Mr. Pye’s decease, of ‘warbling truth at court,’ like Mr. Mallet of indifferent memory. — Consider, one hundred marks a year! besides the wine and the disgrace; but then remorse would make me drown myself in my own butt before the year’s end, or the finishing of my first dithyrambic. — So that, after all, I shall not meditate our laureate’s death by pen or poison.

  “Will you present my best respects to Lady Holland? and believe me hers and yours very sincerely.”

  The second letter, entering much more fully into the particulars of this interview with Royalty, was in answer, it will be perceived, to some enquiries which Sir Walter Scott (then Mr. Scott) had addressed to him on the subject; and the whole account reflects even still more honour on the Sovereign himself than on the two poets.

  LETTER 95. TO SIR WALTER SCOTT, BART.

  “St. James’s Street, July 6. 1812.

  “Sir,

  “I have just been honoured with your letter. — I feel sorry that you should have thought it worth while to notice the ‘evil works of my nonage,’ as the thing is suppressed voluntarily, and your explanation is too kind not to give me pain. The Satire was written when I was very young and very angry, and fully bent on displaying my wrath and my wit, and now I am haunted by the ghosts of my wholesale assertions. I cannot sufficiently thank you for your praise; and now, waving myself, let me talk to you of the Prince Regent. He ordered me to be presented to him at a ball; and after some sayings peculiarly pleasing from royal lips, as to my own attempts, he talked to me of you and your immortalities: he preferred you to every bard past and present, and asked which of your works pleased me most. It was a difficult question. I answered, I thought the “Lay.” He said his own opinion was nearly similar. In speaking of the others, I told him that I thought you more particularly the poet of Princes, as they never appeared more fascinating than in ‘Marmion’ and the ‘Lady of the Lake.’ He was pleased to coincide, and to dwell on the description of your Jameses as no less royal than poetical. He spoke alternately of Homer and yourself, and seemed well acquainted with both; so that (with the exception of the Turks and your humble servant) you were in very good company. I defy Murray to have exaggerated his Royal Highness’s opinion of your powers, nor can I pretend to enumerate all he said on the subject; but it may give you pleasure to hear that it was conveyed in language which would only suffer by my attempting to transcribe it, and with a tone and taste which gave me a very high idea of his abilities and accomplishments, which I had hitherto considered as confined to manners, certainly superior to those of any living gentleman.

  “This interview was accidental. I never went to the levee; for having seen the courts of Mussulman and Catholic sovereigns, my curiosity was sufficiently allayed; and my politics being as perverse as my rhymes, I had, in fact, ‘no business there.’ To be thus praised by your Sovereign must be gratifying to you; and if that gratification is not alloyed by the communication being made through me, the bearer of it will consider himself very fortunately and sincerely,

  “Your obliged and obedient servant,

  “BYRON.

  “P.S. — Excuse this scrawl, scratched in a great hurry, and just after a journey.”

  During the summer of this year, he paid visits to some of his noble friends, and, among others, to the Earl of Jersey and the Marquis of Lansdowne. “In 1812,” he says, “at Middleton (Lord Jersey’s), amongst a goodly company of lords, ladies, and wits, &c., there was (* * *.)

  “Erskine, too! Erskine was there; good, but intolerable. He jested, he talked, he did every thing admirably, but then he would be applauded for the same thing twice over. He would read his own verses, his own paragraph, and tell his own story again and again; and then the ‘Trial by Jury!!!’ I almost wished it abolished, for I sat next him at dinner. As I had read his published speeches, there was no occasion to repeat them to me.

  “C * * (the fox-hunter), nicknamed ‘Cheek C * *,’ and I, sweated the claret, being the only two who did so. C * *, who loves his bottle, and had no notion of meeting with a ‘bon-vivant’ in a scribbler, in making my eulogy to somebody one evening, summed it up in— ‘By G —— d he drinks like a man.’

  “Nobody drank, however, but C * * and I. To be sure, there was little occasion, for we swept off what was on the table (a most splendid board, as may be supposed, at Jersey’s) very sufficiently. However, we carried our liquor discreetly, like the Baron of Bradwardine.”

  In the month of August this year, on the completion of the new Theatre Royal, Drury Lane, the Committee of Management, desirous of procuring an Address for the opening of the theatre, took the rather novel mode of inviting, by an advertisement in the newspapers, the competition of all the poets of the day towards this object. Though the contributions that ensued were sufficiently numerous, it did not appear to the Committee that there was any one among the number worthy of selection. In this difficulty it occurred to Lord Holland that they could not do better than have recourse to Lord Byron, whose popularity would give additional vogue to the solemnity of their opening, and to whose transcendant claims, as a poet, it was taken for granted, (though without sufficient allowance, as it proved, for the irritability of the brotherhood,) even the rejected candidates themselves would bow without a murmur. The first result of this application to the noble poet will be learned from what follows.

  LETTER 96. TO LORD HOLLAND.

  “Cheltenham, September 10. 1812.

  “My dear Lord,

  “The lines which I sketched off on your hint are still, or rather were, in an unfinished state, for I have just committed them to a flame more decisive than that of Drury. Under all the circumstances, I should hardly wish a contest with Philo-drama — Philo-Drury — Asbestos, H * *, and all the anonymes and synonymes of Committee candidates. Seriously, I think you have a chance of something much better; for prologuising is not my forte, and, at all events, either my pride or my modesty won’t let me incur the hazard of having my rhymes buried in next month’s Magazine, under ‘Essays on the Murder of Mr. Perceval,’ and ‘Cures for the Bite of a Mad Dog,’ as poor Goldsmith complained of the fate of far superior performances.

  “I am still sufficiently interested to wish to know the successful candidate; and, amongst so many, I have no doubt some will be excellent, particularly in an age when writing verse is the easiest of all attainments.

  “I cannot answer your intelligence with the ‘like comfort,’ unless, as you are deeply theatrical, you may wish to hear of Mr. * *, whose acting is, I fear, utterly inadequate to the London engagement into which the managers of Covent Garden have lately entered. His figure is fat, his features flat, his voice unmanageable, his action ungraceful, and, as Diggory says, ‘I defy him to extort that d —— d muffin face of his into madness.’ I was very sorry to see him in the character of the ‘Elephant on the slack rope;’ for, when I last saw him, I was in raptures with his performance. But then I was sixteen — an age to which all London condescended to subside. After all, much better judges have admired, and may again; but I venture to ‘prognosticate a prophecy’ (see the Courier) that he will not succeed.

  “So, poor dear Rogers has stuck fast on ‘the brow of the mighty Helvellyn’ — I hope not for ever. My best respects to Lady H.: — her departure, with that of my other friends, was a sad event for me, now reduced to a state of the most cynical solitude. ‘By the waters of Cheltenham I sat down and drank, when I remembered thee, oh Georgiana Cottage! As for our harps, we hanged them up upon the willows that grew thereby. Then they said, Sing us a song of Drury Lane,’ &c.; — but I am dumb and dreary as the Israelites. The waters have disordered me to my heart’s content — you were right, as you always are. Believe me ever
your obliged and affectionate servant,

  “BYRON.”

  The request of the Committee for his aid having been, still more urgently, repeated, he, at length, notwithstanding the difficulty and invidiousness of the task, from his strong wish to oblige Lord Holland, consented to undertake it; and the quick succeeding notes and letters, which he addressed, during the completion of the Address, to his noble friend, afford a proof (in conjunction with others of still more interest, yet to be cited) of the pains he, at this time, took in improving and polishing his first conceptions, and the importance he wisely attached to a judicious choice of epithets as a means of enriching both the music and the meaning of his verse. They also show, — what, as an illustration of his character, is even still more valuable, — the exceeding pliancy and good humour with which he could yield to friendly suggestions and criticisms; nor can it be questioned, I think, but that the docility thus invariably exhibited by him, on points where most poets are found to be tenacious and irritable, was a quality natural to his disposition, and such as might have been turned to account in far more important matters, had he been fortunate enough to meet with persons capable of understanding and guiding him.

  The following are a few of those hasty notes, on the subject of the Address, which I allude to: —

  TO LORD HOLLAND.

  “September 22. 1812.

  “My dear Lord,

  “In a day or two I will send you something which you will still have the liberty to reject if you dislike it. I should like to have had more time, but will do my best, — but too happy if I can oblige you, though I may offend a hundred scribblers and the discerning public. Ever yours.

  “Keep my name a secret; or I shall be beset by all the rejected, and, perhaps, damned by a party.”

  LETTER 97. TO LORD HOLLAND.

  “Cheltenham, September 23. 1812.

  “Ecco! — I have marked some passages with double readings — choose between them — cut — add — reject — or destroy — do with them as you will — I leave it to you and the Committee — you cannot say so called ‘a non committendo.’ What will they do (and I do) with the hundred and one rejected Troubadours? ‘With trumpets, yea, and with shawms,’ will you be assailed in the most diabolical doggerel. I wish my name not to transpire till the day is decided. I shall not be in town, so it won’t much matter; but let us have a good deliverer. I think Elliston should be the man, or Pope; not Raymond, I implore you, by the love of Rhythmus!

  “The passages marked thus ==, above and below, are for you to choose between epithets, and such like poetical furniture. Pray write me a line, and believe me ever, &c.

  “My best remembrances to Lady H. Will you be good enough to decide between the various readings marked, and erase the other; or our deliverer may be as puzzled as a commentator, and belike repeat both. If these versicles won’t do, I will hammer out some more endecasyllables.

  “P.S. — Tell Lady H. I have had sad work to keep out the Phoenix — I mean the Fire Office of that name. It has insured the theatre, and why not the Address?”

  TO LORD HOLLAND.

  “September 24.

  “I send a recast of the four first lines of the concluding paragraph.

  “This greeting o’er, the ancient rule obey’d, The drama’s homage by her Herald paid, Receive our welcome too, whose every tone Springs from our hearts, and fain would win your own. The curtain rises, &c. &c.

  And do forgive all this trouble. See what it is to have to do even with the genteelest of us. Ever,” &c.

  LETTER 99. TO LORD HOLLAND.

  “September 26. 1812.

  “You will think there is no end to my villanous emendations. The fifth and sixth lines I think to alter thus: —

  “Ye who beheld — oh sight admired and mourn’d, Whose radiance mock’d the ruin it adorn’d;

  because ‘night’ is repeated the next line but one; and, as it now stands, the conclusion of the paragraph, ‘worthy him (Shakspeare) and you,’ appears to apply the ‘you’ to those only who were out of bed and in Covent Garden Market on the night of conflagration, instead of the audience or the discerning public at large, all of whom are intended to be comprised in that comprehensive and, I hope, comprehensible pronoun.

  “By the by, one of my corrections in the fair copy sent yesterday has dived into the bathos some sixty fathom —

  “When Garrick died, and Brinsley ceased to write.

  Ceasing to live is a much more serious concern, and ought not to be first; therefore I will let the old couplet stand, with its half rhymes ‘sought’ and ‘wrote.’ Second thoughts in every thing are best, but, in rhyme, third and fourth don’t come amiss. I am very anxious on this business, and I do hope that the very trouble I occasion you will plead its own excuse, and that it will tend to show my endeavour to make the most of the time allotted. I wish I had known it months ago, for in that case I had not left one line standing on another. I always scrawl in this way, and smooth as much as I can, but never sufficiently; and, latterly, I can weave a nine-line stanza faster than a couplet, for which measure I have not the cunning. When I began ‘Childe Harold,’ I had never tried Spenser’s measure, and now I cannot scribble in any other.

  “After all, my dear Lord, if you can get a decent Address elsewhere, don’t hesitate to put this aside. Why did you not trust your own Muse? I am very sure she would have been triumphant, and saved the Committee their trouble—’’tis a joyful one’ to me, but I fear I shall not satisfy even myself. After the account you sent me, ’tis no compliment to say you would have beaten your candidates; but I mean that, in that case, there would have been no occasion for their being beaten at all.

  “There are but two decent prologues in our tongue — Pope’s to Cato — Johnson’s to Drury Lane. These, with the epilogue to the ‘Distrest Mother,’ and, I think, one of Goldsmith’s, and a prologue of old Colman’s to Beaumont and Fletcher’s Philaster, are the best things of the kind we have.

  “P.S. — I am diluted to the throat with medicine for the stone; and Boisragon wants me to try a warm climate for the winter — but I won’t.”

  LETTER 100. TO LORD HOLLAND.

  “September 27. 1812.

  “I have just received your very kind letter, and hope you have met with a second copy corrected and addressed to Holland House, with some omissions and this new couplet,

  “As glared each rising flash, and ghastly shone The skies with lightnings awful as their own.

  As to remarks, I can only say I will alter and acquiesce in any thing. With regard to the part which Whitbread wishes to omit, I believe the Address will go off quicker without it, though, like the agility of the Hottentot, at the expense of its vigour. I leave to your choice entirely the different specimens of stucco-work; and a brick of your own will also much improve my Babylonish turret. I should like Elliston to have it, with your leave. ‘Adorn’ and ‘mourn’ are lawful rhymes in Pope’s Death of the unfortunate Lady. — Gray has ‘forlorn’ and ‘mourn;’ — and ‘torn’ and ‘mourn’ are in Smollet’s famous Tears of Scotland.

  “As there will probably be an outcry amongst the rejected, I hope the committee will testify (if it be needful) that I sent in nothing to the congress whatever, with or without a name, as your Lordship well knows. All I have to do with it is with and through you; and though I, of course, wish to satisfy the audience, I do assure you my first object is to comply with your request, and in so doing to show the sense I have of the many obligations you have conferred upon me. Yours ever, B.”

  LETTER 103. TO LORD HOLLAND.

  “September 29. 1812.

  “Shakspeare certainly ceased to reign in one of his kingdoms, as George III. did in America, and George IV. may in Ireland. Now, we have nothing to do out of our own realms, and when the monarchy was gone, his majesty had but a barren sceptre. I have cut away, you will see, and altered, but make it what you please; only I do implore, for my own gratification, one lash on those accursed quadrupeds— ‘a long shot, Sir Luci
us, if you love me.’ I have altered ‘wave,’ &c., and the ‘fire,’ and so forth for the timid.

  “Let me hear from you when convenient, and believe me, &c.

  “P.S. — Do let that stand, and cut out elsewhere. I shall choke, if we must overlook their d —— d menagerie.”

  LETTER 105. TO LORD HOLLAND.

  “Far be from him that hour which asks in vain Tears such as flow for Garrick in his strain;

  or,

  “Far be that hour that vainly asks in turn {crown’d his} Such verse for him as {wept o’er} Garrick’s urn.

  “September 30. 1812.

  “Will you choose between these added to the lines on Sheridan? I think they will wind up the panegyric, and agree with the train of thought preceding them.

  “Now, one word as to the Committee — how could they resolve on a rough copy of an Address never sent in, unless you had been good enough to retain in memory, or on paper, the thing they have been good enough to adopt? By the by, the circumstances of the case should make the Committee less ‘avidus glorias,’ for all praise of them would look plaguy suspicious. If necessary to be stated at all, the simple facts bear them out. They surely had a right to act as they pleased. My sole object is one which, I trust, my whole conduct has shown; viz. that I did nothing insidious — sent in no Address whatever — but, when applied to, did my best for them and myself; but, above all, that there was no undue partiality, which will be what the rejected will endeavour to make out. Fortunately — most fortunately — I sent in no lines on the occasion. For I am sure that had they, in that case, been preferred, it would have been asserted that I was known, and owed the preference to private friendship. This is what we shall probably have to encounter; but, if once spoken and approved, we sha’n’t be much embarrassed by their brilliant conjectures; and, as to criticism, an old author, like an old bull, grows cooler (or ought) at every baiting.