Thomas Moore- Collected Poetical Works

by Thomas Moore

  “Scott’s ‘Lord of the Isles’ is out— ‘the mail-coach copy’ I have, by special licence, of Murray.

  “Now is your time; — you will come upon them newly and freshly. It is impossible to read what you have lately done (verse or prose) without seeing that you have trained on tenfold. * * has floundered; * * has foundered. I have tried the rascals (i.e. the public) with my Harrys and Larrys, Pilgrims and Pirates. Nobody but S * * * *y has done any thing worth a slice of bookseller’s pudding; and he has not luck enough to be found out in doing a good thing. Now, Tom, is thy time— ‘Oh joyful day! — I would not take a knighthood for thy fortune. Let me hear from you soon, and believe me ever, &c.

  “P.S. Lady Byron is vastly well. How are Mrs. Moore and Joe Atkinson’s ‘Graces?’ We must present our women to one another.”

  LETTER 210. TO MR. MOORE.

  “January 19. 1815.

  “Egad! I don’t think he is ‘down;’ and my prophecy — like most auguries, sacred and profane — is not annulled, but inverted.

  “To your question about the ‘dog’ — Umph! — my ‘mother,’ I won’t say any thing against — that is, about her: but how long a ‘mistress’ or friend may recollect paramours or competitors (lust and thirst being the two great and only bonds between the amatory or the amicable) I can’t say, — or, rather, you know, as well as I could tell you. But as for canine recollections, as far as I could judge by a cur of mine own, (always bating Boatswain, the dearest and, alas! the maddest of dogs,) I had one (half a wolf by the she side) that doted on me at ten years old, and very nearly ate me at twenty. When I thought he was going to enact Argus, he bit away the backside of my breeches, and never would consent to any kind of recognition, in despite of all kinds of bones which I offered him. So, let Southey blush and Homer too, as far as I can decide upon quadruped memories.

  “I humbly take it, the mother knows the son that pays her jointure — a mistress her mate, till he * * and refuses salary — a friend his fellow, till he loses cash and character — and a dog his master, till he changes him.

  “So, you want to know about milady and me? But let me not, as Roderick Random says, ‘profane the chaste mysteries of Hymen’ — damn the word, I had nearly spelt it with a small h. I like Bell as well as you do (or did, you villain!) Bessy — and that is (or was) saying a great deal.

  “Address your next to Seaham, Stockton-on-Tees, where we are going on Saturday (a bore, by the way,) to see father-in-law, Sir Jacob, and my lady’s lady-mother. Write — and write more at length — both to the public and yours ever most affectionately,

  “B.”

  LETTER 211. TO MR. MOORE.

  “Seaham, Stockton-on-Tees, February 2. 1815.

  “I have heard from London that you have left Chatsworth and all the women full of ‘entusymusy’ about you, personally and poetically; and, in particular, that ‘When first I met thee’ has been quite overwhelming in its effect. I told you it was one of the best things you ever wrote, though that dog Power wanted you to omit part of it. They are all regretting your absence at Chatsworth, according to my informant— ‘all the ladies quite,’ &c. &c. &c. Stap my vitals!

  “Well, now you have got home again — which I dare say is as agreeable as a ‘draught of cool small beer to the scorched palate of a waking sot’ — now you have got home again, I say, probably I shall hear from you. Since I wrote last, I have been transferred to my father-in-law’s, with my lady and my lady’s maid, &c. &c. &c. and the treacle-moon is over, and I am awake, and find myself married. My spouse and I agree to — and in — admiration. Swift says ‘no wise man ever married;’ but, for a fool, I think it the most ambrosial of all possible future states. I still think one ought to marry upon lease; but am very sure I should renew mine at the expiration, though next term were for ninety and nine years.

  “I wish you would respond, for I am here ‘oblitusque meorum obliviscendus et illis.’ Pray tell me what is going on in the way of intriguery, and how the w —— s and rogues of the upper Beggar’s Opera go on — or rather go off — in or after marriage; or who are going to break any particular commandment. Upon this dreary coast, we have nothing but county meetings and shipwrecks; and I have this day dined upon fish, which probably dined upon the crews of several colliers lost in the late gales. But I saw the sea once more in all the glories of surf and foam, — almost equal to the Bay of Biscay, and the interesting white squalls and short seas of Archipelago memory.

  “My papa, Sir Ralpho, hath recently made a speech at a Durham tax-meeting; and not only at Durham, but here, several times since, after dinner. He is now, I believe, speaking it to himself (I left him in the middle) over various decanters, which can neither interrupt him nor fall asleep, — as might possibly have been the case with some of his audience. Ever thine, B.

  “I must go to tea — damn tea. I wish it was Kinnaird’s brandy, and with you to lecture me about it.”

  LETTER 212. TO MR. MURRAY.

  “Seaham, Stockton-upon-Tees, February 2. 1815.

  “You will oblige me very much by making an occasional enquiry at Albany, at my chambers, whether my books, &c. are kept in tolerable order, and how far my old woman continues in health and industry as keeper of my old den. Your parcels have been duly received and perused; but I had hoped to receive ‘Guy Mannering’ before this time. I won’t intrude further for the present on your avocations, professional or pleasurable, but am, as usual,

  “Very truly,” &c.

  LETTER 213. TO MR. MOORE.

  “February 4. 1815.

  “I enclose you half a letter from * *, which will explain itself — at least the latter part — the former refers to private business of mine own. If Jeffrey will take such an article, and you will undertake the revision, or, indeed, any portion of the article itself, (for unless you do, by Phoebus, I will have nothing to do with it,) we can cook up, between us three, as pretty a dish of sour-crout as ever tipped over the tongue of a bookmaker.

  “You can, at any rate, try Jeffrey’s inclination. Your late proposal from him made me hint this to * *, who is a much better proser and scholar than I am, and a very superior man indeed. Excuse haste — answer this. Ever yours most,

  “B.

  “P.S. All is well at home. I wrote to you yesterday.”

  LETTER 214. TO MR. MOORE.

  “February 10. 1815.

  “My dear Tom,

  “Jeffrey has been so very kind about me and my damnable works, that I would not be indirect or equivocal with him, even for a friend. So, it may be as well to tell him that it is not mine; but that if I did not firmly and truly believe it to be much better than I could offer, I would never have troubled him or you about it. You can judge between you how far it is admissible, and reject it, if not of the right sort. For my own part, I have no interest in the article one way or the other, further than to oblige * *; and should the composition be a good one, it can hurt neither party, — nor, indeed, any one, saving and excepting Mr. * * * *.

  “Curse catch me if I know what H * * means or meaned about the demonstrative pronoun, but I admire your fear of being inoculated with the same. Have you never found out that you have a particular style of your own, which is as distinct from all other people, as Hafiz of Shiraz from Hafiz of the Morning Post?

  “So you allowed B * * and such like to hum and haw you, or, rather, Lady J * * out of her compliment, and me out of mine. Sun-burn me, but this was pitiful-hearted. However, I will tell her all about it when I see her.

  “Bell desires me to say all kinds of civilities, and assure you of her recognition and high consideration. I will tell you of our movements south, which may be in about three weeks from this present writing. By the way, don’t engage yourself in any travelling expedition, as I have a plan of travel into Italy, which we will discuss. And then, think of the poesy wherewithal we should overflow, from Venice to Vesuvius, to say nothing of Greece, through all which — God willing — we might perambulate in one twelve months. If I take my wife,
you can take yours; and if I leave mine, you may do the same. ‘Mind you stand by me in either case, Brother Bruin.’

  “And believe me inveterately yours,

  “B”

  LETTER 215. TO MR. MOORE.

  “February 22. 1815.

  “Yesterday I sent off the packet and letter to Edinburgh. It consisted of forty-one pages, so that I have not added a line; but in my letter, I mentioned what passed between you and me in autumn, as my inducement for presuming to trouble him either with my own or * *’s lucubrations. I am any thing but sure that it will do; but I have told J. that if there is any decent raw material in it, he may cut it into what shape he pleases, and warp it to his liking.

  “So you won’t go abroad, then, with me, — but alone. I fully purpose starting much about the time you mention, and alone, too.

  “I hope J. won’t think me very impudent in sending * * only: there was not room for a syllable. I have avowed * * as the author, and said that you thought or said, when I met you last, that he (J.) would not be angry at the coalition, (though, alas! we have not coalesced,) and so, if I have got into a scrape, I must get out of it — Heaven knows how.

  “Your Anacreon is come, and with it I sealed (its first impression) the packet and epistle to our patron.

  “Curse the Melodies and the Tribes, to boot, Braham is to assist — or hath assisted — but will do no more good than a second physician. I merely interfered to oblige a whim of K.’s, and all I have got by it was ‘a speech’ and a receipt for stewed oysters.

  “‘Not meet’ — pray don’t say so. We must meet somewhere or somehow. Newstead is out of the question, being nearly sold again, or, if not, it is uninhabitable for my spouse. Pray write again. I will soon.

  “P.S. Pray when do you come out? ever, or never? I hope I have made no blunder; but I certainly think you said to me, (after W * * th, whom I first pondered upon, was given up,) that * * and I might attempt * * * *. His length alone prevented me from trying my part, though I should have been less severe upon the Reviewée.

  “Your seal is the best and prettiest of my set, and I thank you very much therefor. I have just been — or rather, ought to be — very much shocked by the death of the Duke of Dorset. We were at school together, and there I was passionately attached to him. Since, we have never met — but once, I think, since 1805 — and it would be a paltry affectation to pretend that I had any feeling for him worth the name. But there was a time in my life when this event would have broken my heart; and all I can say for it now is that — it is not worth breaking.

  “Adieu — it is all a farce.”

  LETTER 216. TO MR. MOORE.

  “March 2. 1815.

  “My dear Thom,

  “Jeffrey has sent me the most friendly of all possible letters, and has accepted * *’s article. He says he has long liked not only, &c. &c. but my ‘character.’ This must be your doing, you dog — ar’nt you ashamed of yourself, knowing me so well? This is what one gets for having you for a father confessor.

  “I feel merry enough to send you a sad song. You once asked me for some words which you would set. Now you may set or not, as you like, — but there they are, in a legible hand, and not in mine, but of my own scribbling; so you may say of them what you please. Why don’t you write to me? I shall make you ‘a speech’ if you don’t respond quickly.

  “I am in such a state of sameness and stagnation, and so totally occupied in consuming the fruits — and sauntering — and playing dull games at cards — and yawning — and trying to read old Annual Registers and the daily papers — and gathering shells on the shore — and watching the growth of stunted gooseberry bushes in the garden — that I have neither time nor sense to say more than yours ever, B.

  “P.S. I open my letter again to put a question to you. What would Lady C —— k, or any other fashionable Pidcock, give to collect you and Jeffrey and me to one party? I have been answering his letter, which suggested this dainty query. I can’t help laughing at the thoughts of your face and mine; and our anxiety to keep the Aristarch in good humour during the early part of a compotation, till we got drunk enough to make him ‘a speech.’ I think the critic would have much the best of us — of one, at least — for I don’t think diffidence (I mean social) is a disease of yours.”

  LETTER 217. TO MR. MOORE.

  “March 8. 1815.

  “An event — the death of poor Dorset — and the recollection of what I once felt, and ought to have felt now, but could not — set me pondering, and finally into the train of thought which you have in your hands. I am very glad you like them, for I flatter myself they will pass as an imitation of your style. If I could imitate it well, I should have no great ambition of originality — I wish I could make you exclaim with Dennis, ‘That’s my thunder, by G —— d!’ I wrote them with a view to your setting them, and as a present to Power, if he would accept the words, and you did not think yourself degraded, for once in a way, by marrying them to music.

  “Sun-burn N * *! — why do you always twit me with his vile Ebrew nasalities? Have I not told you it was all K.’s doing, and my own exquisite facility of temper? But thou wilt be a wag, Thomas; and see what you get for it. Now for my revenge.

  “Depend — and perpend — upon it that your opinion of * *’s poem will travel through one or other of the quintuple correspondents, till it reaches the ear, and the liver of the author. Your adventure, however, is truly laughable — but how could you be such a potatoe? You ‘a brother’ (of the quill) too, ‘near the throne,’ to confide to a man’s own publisher (who has ‘bought,’ or rather sold, ‘golden opinions’ about him) such a damnatory parenthesis! ‘Between you and me,’ quotha — it reminds me of a passage in the Heir at Law— ‘Tête-a-tête with Lady Duberly, I suppose.’— ‘No — tête-a-tête with five hundred people;’ and your confidential communication will doubtless be in circulation to that amount, in a short time, with several additions, and in several letters, all signed L.H.R.O.B., &c. &c. &c.

  “We leave this place to-morrow, and shall stop on our way to town (in the interval of taking a house there) at Col. Leigh’s, near Newmarket, where any epistle of yours will find its welcome way.

  “I have been very comfortable here, — listening to that d —— d monologue, which elderly gentlemen call conversation, and in which my pious father-in-law repeats himself every evening — save one, when he played upon the fiddle. However, they have been very kind and hospitable, and I like them and the place vastly, and I hope they will live many happy months. Bell is in health, and unvaried good-humour and behaviour. But we are all in the agonies of packing and parting; and I suppose by this time to-morrow I shall be stuck in the chariot with my chin upon a band-box. I have prepared, however, another carriage for the abigail, and all the trumpery which our wives drag along with them.

  “Ever thine, most affectionately,

  “B.”

  LETTER 218. TO MR. MOORE.

  “March 17. 1815.

  “I meaned to write to you before on the subject of your loss; but the recollection of the uselessness and worthlessness of any observations on such events prevented me. I shall only now add, that I rejoice to see you bear it so well, and that I trust time will enable Mrs. M. to sustain it better. Every thing should be done to divert and occupy her with other thoughts and cares, and I am sure that all that can be done will.

  “Now to your letter. Napoleon — but the papers will have told you all. I quite think with you upon the subject, and for my real thoughts this time last year, I would refer you to the last pages of the Journal I gave you. I can forgive the rogue for utterly falsifying every line of mine Ode — which I take to be the last and uttermost stretch of human magnanimity. Do you remember the story of a certain Abbé, who wrote a treatise on the Swedish Constitution, and proved it indissoluble and eternal? Just as he had corrected the last sheet, news came that Gustavus III. had destroyed this immortal government. ‘Sir,’ quoth the Abbé, ‘the King of Sweden may overthrow the constituti
on, but not my book!!’ I think of the Abbé, but not with him.

  “Making every allowance for talent and most consummate daring, there is, after all, a good deal in luck or destiny. He might have been stopped by our frigates — or wrecked in the Gulf of Lyons, which is particularly tempestuous — or — a thousand things. But he is certainly Fortune’s favourite, and

  Once fairly set out on his party of pleasure, Taking towns at his liking and crowns at his leisure, From Elba to Lyons and Paris he goes, Making balls for the ladies, and bows to his foes.

  You must have seen the account of his driving into the middle of the royal army, and the immediate effect of his pretty speeches. And now if he don’t drub the allies, there is ‘no purchase in money.’ If he can take France by himself, the devil’s in ‘t if he don’t repulse the invaders, when backed by those celebrated sworders — those boys of the blade, the Imperial Guard, and the old and new army. It is impossible not to be dazzled and overwhelmed by his character and career. Nothing ever so disappointed me as his abdication, and nothing could have reconciled me to him but some such revival as his recent exploit; though no one could anticipate such a complete and brilliant renovation.

  “To your question, I can only answer that there have been some symptoms which look a little gestatory. It is a subject upon which I am not particularly anxious, except that I think it would please her uncle, Lord Wentworth, and her father and mother. The former (Lord W.) is now in town, and in very indifferent health. You, perhaps, know that his property, amounting to seven or eight thousand a year, will eventually devolve upon Bell. But the old gentleman has been so very kind to her and me, that I hardly know how to wish him in heaven, if he can be comfortable on earth. Her father is still in the country.