Irish Melodies
was published; they continued to appear at
irregular intervals till 1834, when 122 had been printed. A master of
the art of versification, Moore sings, with graceful fancy, in a tone of
mingled mirth and melancholy, his love of his country, of the wine of
other countries, and the women of all countries. But, except in his
patriotism, he shows little depth of feeling. The
Melodies
are
the work of a brilliantly clever man, endowed with an exquisite musical
ear, and a temperament that is rather susceptible than intense. With
them may be classed his
National Airs
(1815) and
Sacred
Song
(1816).
Moore had already found one field in which he excelled; it was not long
before he discovered another. His serious satires,
Corruption
(1808),
Intolerance
(1808), and
The Sceptic
(1809),
failed. His nature was neither deep enough nor strong enough for success
in such themes. In the ephemeral strife of party politics he found his
real province. Nothing can be better of their kind than the metrical
lampoons collected in
Intercepted Letters, or the Twopenny Post-bag,
by Thomas Brown the Younger
(1813). In his hands the bow and arrows
of Cupid become formidable weapons of party warfare; nor do their
ornaments impede the movements of the archer. The shaft is gaily winged
and brightly polished; the barb sharp and dipped in venom; and the
missile hums music as it flies to its mark. Moore's satire is the satire
of the Clubs at its best; but it is scarcely the satire of literature.
The Twopenny Post-bag
was the parent of many similar productions,
beginning with
The Fudge Family in Paris
(1818), and ending with
Fables for the Holy Alliance
(1823), which he dedicated to Byron.
As a serious poet, and the author of
Lalla Rookh
(1817),
The
Loves of the Angels
(1823), and
Alciphron
(1839), Moore was
perhaps overrated by his contemporaries. In spite of their brightness of
fancy, metrical skill, and brilliant cleverness, they lack the greater
elements of the highest poetry.
Moore's prose work begins, apart from his contributions to periodical
literature, with the
Memoirs of Captain Rock
(1824),
The
Epicurean
(1827),
The Travels of an Irish Gentleman in Search of
a Religion
(1834),
The History of Ireland
(1846); and a
succession of biographies—the life of
Sheridan
(1825), of
Byron
(1830), and
Lord Edward Fitzgerald
(1831)—complete
the list. In the midst of his biographical work, Moore was advised by
Lord Lansdowne to write nine lives at once, and print them together
under the title of
The Cat
.
In 1811 Moore married Miss Elizabeth Dyke (born 1793), an actress who
fascinated him at the Kilkenny private theatricals in 1809. To the outer
world, Mrs. Moore's bird, as she called him, was a sprightly little
songster, who lived in a whirl of dinners, suppers, concerts, and
theatricals. These, as well as his private anxieties and misfortunes,
are recorded in the eight volumes of his
Memoirs, Journals, and
Correspondence
, which were edited by Lord John Russell, in 1853.
Moore was an excellent son, a good husband, an affectionate father, and
to Byron a loyal friend, neither envious nor subservient. Clare,
Hobhouse, and Moore were (Lady Blessington's
Conversations
, 2nd
edition, 1850, pp. 393, 394) the only persons whose friendship Byron
never disclaimed. He spoke of Moore (
ibid
., pp. 322, 323) as
"a delightful companion, gay without
being boisterous, witty without effort, comic without coarseness,
and sentimental without being lachrymose. He reminds one of the
fairy who, whenever she spoke, let diamonds fall from her lips.
My tête-à-tête suppers with Moore are among the most agreeable
impressions I retain of the hours passed in London."
In July, 1806, in consequence of the article in the
Edinburgh
Review
on his recent volume of
Poems
, Moore sent, through his
friend Hume, a challenge to Jeffrey, who was seconded by Francis
Horner, and a meeting was arranged. Moore, who had only once
in his life discharged a firearm of any kind, and then nearly blew
his thumb off, borrowed a case of pistols from William Spencer, and
bought in Bond Street enough powder and bullets for a score of
duels. The parties met at Chalk Farm; the seconds loaded the
pistols, placed the men at their posts, and were about to give the
signal to fire, when the police officers, rushing upon them from
behind a hedge, knocked Jeffrey's weapon from his hand, disarmed
Moore, and conveyed the whole party to Bow Street. They were
released on bail; but, on Moore returning to claim the borrowed
pistols, the officer refused to give them up, because only Moore's
pistol was loaded with ball. Horner, however, gave evidence that
he had seen both pistols loaded; and there, but for the reports circulated
in the newspapers, the affair would have ended. But the
joke was too good to be allowed to drop, and, in spite of Moore's
published letter, he was for months a target for the wits (
Memoirs,
Journals, and Correspondence
, vol. i. pp. 199-208).
In
English Bards, etc.
, lines 466, 467, and his
note
, Byron made
merry over "Little's leadless pistol," with the result that, when the
second edition o£ the satire was published, with his name attached,
Moore sent him the following letter:
"Dublin, January 1, 1810.
"My Lord,—Having just seen the name of 'Lord Byron' prefixed
to a work entitled English Bards, and Scotch Reviewers, in
which, as it appears to me, the lie is given to a public statement
of mine, respecting an affair with Mr. Jeffrey some years since, I
beg you will have the goodness to inform me whether I may consider
your Lordship as the author of this publication.
"I shall not, I fear, be able to return to London for a week or
two; but, in the mean time, I trust your Lordship will not deny
me the satisfaction of knowing whether you avow the insult contained
in the passages alluded to.
"It is needless to suggest to your Lordship the propriety of keeping
our correspondence secret.
"I have the honour to be,
"Your Lordship's very humble servant,
"Thomas Moore.
"22, Molesworth Street."
Owing to Byron's absence abroad, the letter never reached him;
it was, in fact, kept back by Hodgson. On his return to England,
Moore, who in the interval had married, sent him a second letter,
restating the nature of the insult he had received in
English Bards
.
"'It is now useless,' I continued (Life, p. 143), 'to speak of the
steps with which it was my intention to follow up that letter.
The time which has elapsed since then, though it has done away
neither the injury nor the feeling of it, has, in many respects,
materially altered my situation; and the only object which I have
now in writing to your Lordship is to preserve some consistency
with that former letter, and to prove to you that the injured feeling
still exists, however circumstances may compel me to be deaf
to its dictates, at present. When I say "injured feeling," let me
assure your Lordship that there is not a single vindictive sentiment
in my mind towards you. I mean but to express that uneasiness, under
(what I consider to be) a charge of falsehood,
which must haunt a man of any feeling to his grave, unless the
insult be retracted or atoned for; and which, if I did not feel, I
should, indeed, deserve far worse than your Lordship's satire could
inflict upon me.' In conclusion I added, that so far from being
influenced by any angry or resentful feeling towards him, it would
give me sincere pleasure if, by any satisfactory explanation, he
would enable me to seek the honour of being henceforward ranked
among his acquaintance."
Byron's
of October 27, 1811. was written in reply to this
second letter from Moore.
For Samuel Rogers, see p. 67,
1.
List of Letters
Contents
8, St. James's Street, 29th October, 1811.
Dear Sir
,—I arrived in town last night, and shall be very glad to see
you when convenient.
Yours very truly,
Byron
.
List of Letters
Contents
204—to Thomas Moore1
8, St. James's Street, October 29, 1811.
Sir
,—Soon after my return to England, my friend, Mr. Hodgson, apprised
me that a letter for me was in his possession; but a domestic event
hurrying me from London immediately after, the letter (which may most
probably be your own) is still
unopened in his keeping
. If, on
examination of the address, the similarity of the handwriting should
lead to such a conclusion, it shall be opened in your presence, for the
satisfaction of all parties. Mr. H. is at present out of town;—on
Friday I shall see him, and request him to forward it to my address.
With regard to the latter part of both your letters, until the principal
point was discussed between us, I felt myself at a loss in what manner
to reply. Was I to anticipate friendship from one, who conceived me to
have charged him with falsehood? Were not
advances
, under such
circumstances, to be misconstrued,—not, perhaps, by the person to whom
they were addressed, but by others? In
my
case such a step was
impracticable. If you, who conceived yourself to be the offended person,
are satisfied that you had no cause for offence, it will not be
difficult to convince me of it. My situation, as I have before stated,
leaves me no choice. I should have felt proud of your acquaintance, had
it commenced under other circumstances; but it must rest with you to
determine how far it may proceed after so
auspicious
a beginning.
I have the honour to be, etc.
Moore had replied, accepting Byron's explanation, and adding,
As your Lordship does not show any wish to proceed beyond the rigid
formulary of explanation, it is not for me to make any further
advances. We Irishmen, in businesses of this kind, seldom know any
medium between decided hostility and decided friendship; but, as any
approaches towards the latter alternative must now depend entirely on
your Lordship, I have only to repeat that I am satisfied with your
letter, and that I have the honour to be," etc., etc.
List of Letters
Contents
205—to Thomas Moore1
8, St. James's Street, October 30, 1811.
Sir
,—You must excuse my troubling you once more upon this very
unpleasant subject. It would be a satisfaction to me, and I should think
to yourself, that the unopened letter in Mr. Hodgson's possession
(supposing it to prove your own) should be returned
in statu quo
to the writer; particularly as you expressed yourself "not quite easy
under the manner in which I had dwelt on its miscarriage."
A few words more, and I shall not trouble you further. I felt, and still
feel, very much flattered by those parts of your correspondence, which
held out the prospect of our becoming acquainted. If I did not meet them
in the first instance as perhaps I ought, let the situation I was placed
in be my defence. You have
now
declared yourself
satisfied
, and on that point we are no longer at issue. If,
therefore, you still retain any wish to do me the honour you hinted at,
I shall be most happy to meet you, when, where, and how you please, and
I presume you will not attribute my saying thus much to any unworthy
motive.
I have the honour to remain, etc.
"Piqued," says Moore (Life, 144), "at the manner in which my
efforts towards a more friendly understanding were received,"
he had briefly expressed his satisfaction at Byron's explanation, and
added that the correspondence might close.
List of Letters
Contents
8, St. James's Street, October 31, 1811.
Dear Sir
,—I have already taken up so much of your time that there needs
no excuse on your part, but a great many on mine, for the present
interruption. I have altered the passages according to your wish. With
this note I send a few stanzas on a subject which has lately occupied
much of my thoughts. They refer to the death of one to whose name you
are a
stranger
, and, consequently, cannot be interested. I mean
them to complete the present volume. They relate to the same person whom
I have mentioned in Canto 2nd, and at the conclusion of the poem.
I by no means intend to identify myself with
Harold
, but to
deny
all connection with him. If in parts I may be thought to
have drawn from myself, believe me it is but in parts, and I shall not
own even to that.
to the
Monastic dome
, etc.
, I thought those circumstances would suit him as well as any other, and I
could describe what I had seen better than I could invent. I would not
be such a fellow as I have made my hero for all the world.
Yours ever,
B.
Childe Harold
, Canto II. stanza xlviii.
List of Letters
Contents
8, St. James's Street, November 1, 1811.
Sir,—As I should be very sorry to interrupt your Sunday's engagement,
if Monday, or any other day of the ensuing week, would be equally
convenient to
and friend, I will then have the honour of
accepting his invitation
.
Of the professions of
with which Mr. Rogers
has honoured me,
I cannot but feel proud, though undeserving. I should be wanting to
myself, if insensible to the praise of such a man; and, should my
approaching interview with him and his friend lead to any degree of
intimacy with both or either, I shall regard our past correspondence as
one of the happiest events of my life. I have the honour to be,
Your very sincere and obedient servant,
Byron
.
Rogers has left an account of this dinner.
"Neither Moore nor myself had ever seen Byron when it was settled that
he should dine at my house to meet Moore; nor was he known by sight to
Campbell, who, happening to call upon me that morning, consented to
join the party. I thought it best that I alone should be in the
drawing-room when Byron entered it; and Moore and Campbell accordingly
withdrew. Soon after his arrival, they returned; and I introduced them
to him severally, naming them as Adam named the beasts. When we sat
down to dinner, I asked Byron if he would take soup? 'No; he never
took soup.' 'Would he take some fish?' 'No; he never took fish.'
Presently I asked if he would eat some mutton? 'No; he never ate
mutton.' I then asked if he would take a glass of wine? 'No; he never
tasted wine.' It was now necessary to inquire what he did eat
and drink; and the answer was, 'Nothing but hard biscuits and
soda-water.' Unfortunately, neither hard biscuits nor soda-water were
at hand; and he dined upon potatoes bruised down on his plate and
drenched with vinegar. My guests stayed very late, discussing the
merits of Walter Scott and Joanna Baillie. Some days after, meeting
Hobhouse, I said to him, 'How long will Lord Byron persevere in his
present diet? 'He replied, 'Just as long as you continue to notice
it.' I did not then know, what I now know to be a fact, that Byron,
after leaving my house, had gone to a Club in St. James's Street and
eaten a hearty meat-supper"
(
Table-Talk of Samuel Rogers
, pp.
231, 232). Moore's (
Life
, p. 145) first impressions of Byron
were
"the nobleness of his air, his beauty, the gentleness of his
voice and manners, and—what was naturally not the least
attraction—his marked kindness to myself. Being in mourning for his
mother, the colour, as well of his dress, as of his glossy, curling,
and picturesque hair, gave more effect to the pure, spiritual paleness
of his features, in the expression of which, when he spoke, there was
a perpetual play of lively thought, though melancholy was their
habitual character when in repose."
Samuel Rogers (1763-1855), the third son of a London
banker, was born at Stoke Newington. Shortly after his father's death,
in 1793, he withdrew from any active part in the management of the bank,
and devoted himself for the rest of his long life to literature, art,
and society. In 1803 he moved from chambers in the Temple to a house in
St. James's Place, overlooking the Green Park. Here he lived till his
death, in December, 1855, and here he gathered round him, at his
celebrated breakfasts, the most distinguished men and women of his time.
An excellent account of the "Town Mouse" entertaining the "Country
Mouse" is given by Dean Stanley (
Life
, vol. i. p. 298), who met
Wordsworth at breakfast with Rogers, in 1841, and describes
"the town mouse a sleek, well-fed, sly, white mouse, and the
country mouse with its rough, weather-worn face and grey hairs; the
town mouse displaying its delicate little rolls and pyramids of
glistening strawberries, the country mouse exulting in its hollow
tree, its crust of bread and liberty, and rallying its brother on his
late hours and frequent dinners."
One of his earliest recollections was the sight of a rebel's head upon
a pole at Temple Bar. He had talked with a Thames boatman who remembered
Pope; had seen Garrick in
The Suspicious Husband
; had heard Sir
Joshua Reynolds deliver his last lecture as President of the Royal
Academy; had seen John Wesley "lying in state" in the City Road; had
gone to call on Dr. Johnson, but, when his hand was on the knocker,
found his courage fled. He lived to be offered the laureateship in 1850,
on the death of Wordsworth, and to decline it in favour of Tennyson.
"Time was," wrote Mathias (Pursuits of Literature, note, p.
360, ed. 1808), "when bankers were as stupid as their guineas could
make them; they were neither orators, nor painters, nor poets. But
now. .. Mr. Rogers dreams on Parnassus; and, if I am rightly informed,
there is a great demand among his brethren for the Pleasures of
Memory."
Rogers began to write poetry at an early age, and continued to write it
all his life. His
Ode to Superstition
was published in 1786; the
Pleasures of Memory
, in 1792; the
Epistle to a Friend
, in
1798;
Columbus
, in 1812;
Jacqueline
, in 1813;
Human
Life
, in 1819;
Italy
, in 1822-34. His later years were
occupied in revising, correcting, or amplifying his published poems, and
in preparing the notes to
Italy
, which are admirable studies in
compactness and precision of language. A disciple of Pope, an imitator
of Goldsmith, Rogers was rather a skilful adapter than an original poet.
His chief talent was his taste; if he could not originate, he could
appreciate. The fastidious care which he lavished on his work has
preserved it. In his commonplace-book he has entered the number of years
which he spent in composing and revising his poems. His
Pleasures of
Memory
occupied seven years,
Columbus
fourteen, and
Italy
fifteen. An excellent judge of art, he employed Flaxman,
Stothard, and Turner at a time when their powers were little appreciated
by his fellow-countrymen. Of his taste Byron speaks enthusiastically in
his Journal (see p. 331). But the following passage (hitherto
unpublished) from his
Detached Thoughts
(Ravenna, 1821) gives his
later opinion of the man:
"When Sheridan was on his death-bed, Rogers aided him with purse and
person. This was particularly kind of Rogers, who always spoke ill of
Sheridan (to me, at least), but, indeed, he does that of everybody to
anybody. Rogers is the reverse of the line:
'The best good man with the worst natured Muse,'
being:
'The worst good man with the best natured Muse.'
His Muse being all Sentiment and Sago and Sugar, while he himself is a
venomous talker. I say 'worst good man' because he is (perhaps) a
good man; at least he does good now and then, as well he may,
to purchase himself a shilling's worth of salvation for his slanders.
They are so
little, too—small talk—and old Womanny, and he is
malignant too—and envious—and—he be damned!"
In a manuscript note to these passages Sir Walter Scott writes,
"I never heard Rogers say a single word against Byron, which is rather
odd too. Byron wrote a bitter and undeserved satire on Rogers. This
conduct must have been motived by something or other."
Speaking of Rogers and Sheridan, he says,
"He certainly took pennyworths out of his friend's character. I sat
three hours for my picture to Sir Thomas Lawrence, during which the
whole conversation was filled up by Rogers with stories of Sheridan,
for the least of which, if true, he deserved the gallows. One
respected his committing a rape on his sister-in-law on the day of her
husband's funeral. Others were worse."
In politics Rogers was a Whig, in religion a Presbyterian. But
he meddled little with either. In private life he was as kindly in
action as he was caustic in speech. A sensitive man himself, he
studied to be satirical to others. When Ward condemned
Columbus
in the
Quarterly Review
, Rogers repaid his critic in the stinging
epigram:
"Ward has no heart, they say; but I deny it;—
He has a heart, and gets his speeches by it."
Byron warmly admired Rogers's poetry. To him he dedicated
The
Giaour
, in
"admiration for his genius, respect for his character, and gratitude
for his friendship."
The
Quarterly Review
, in an article on
The Corsair
and
Lara
, mentions
"the highly refined, but somewhat insipid, pastoral tale of
Jacqueline."
Byron, on reading the review, said to Lady Byron,
"The man's a fool. Jacqueline is as superior to Lara as
Rogers is to me"
(
Table-Talk of Samuel Rogers
, p. 154,
note
).
"The Pleasures of Memory," he said (Lady Blessington's
Conversations, p. 153), "is a very beautiful poem, harmonious,
finished, and chaste; it contains not a single meretricious ornament.
If Rogers has not fixed himself in the higher fields of Parnassus, he
has, at least, cultivated a very pretty flower-garden at its base."