Thomas Moore- Collected Poetical Works

by Thomas Moore

  To this extent do I confess myself to have been influenced by the sort of feeling which he attributes to me. But in taking for granted (as it will appear he did from one of his letters) that I entertained any very decided or definite wishes on the subject, he gave me more credit for seriousness in my suggestions than I deserved. If even the lady herself, the unconscious object of these speculations, by whom he was regarded in no other light than that of a distinguished acquaintance, could have consented to undertake the perilous, — but still possible and glorious, — achievement of attaching Byron to virtue, I own that, sanguinely as, in theory, I might have looked to the result, I should have seen, not without trembling, the happiness of one whom I had known and valued from her childhood risked in the experiment.

  I shall now proceed to resume the thread of the Journal, which I had broken off, and of which, it will be perceived, the noble author himself had, for some weeks, at this time, interrupted the progress.

  VOLUME III.

  JOURNAL, 1814.

  “February 18.

  “Better than a month since I last journalised: — most of it out of London and at Notts., but a busy one and a pleasant, at least three weeks of it. On my return, I find all the newspapers in hysterics, and town in an uproar, on the avowal and republication of two stanzas on Princess Charlotte’s weeping at Regency’s speech to Lauderdale in 1812. They are daily at it still; — some of the abuse good, all of it hearty. They talk of a motion in our House upon it — be it so.

  “Got up — redde the Morning Post, containing the battle of Buonaparte, the destruction of the Custom-house, and a paragraph on me as long as my pedigree, and vituperative, as usual.

  “Hobhouse is returned to England. He is my best friend, the most lively, and a man of the most sterling talents extant.

  “‘The Corsair’ has been conceived, written, published, &c. since I last took up this journal. They tell me it has great success; — it was written con amore, and much from existence. Murray is satisfied with its progress; and if the public are equally so with the perusal, there’s an end of the matter.

  “Nine o’clock.

  “Been to Hanson’s on business. Saw Rogers, and had a note from Lady Melbourne, who says, it is said I am ‘much out of spirits.’ I wonder if I really am or not? I have certainly enough of ‘that perilous stuff which weighs upon the heart,’ and it is better they should believe it to be the result of these attacks than of the real cause; but — ay, ay, always but, to the end of the chapter.

  “Hobhouse has told me ten thousand anecdotes of Napoleon, all good and true. My friend H. is the most entertaining of companions, and a fine fellow to boot.

  “Redde a little — wrote notes and letters, and am alone, which Locke says, is bad company. ‘Be not solitary, be not idle.’ — Um! — the idleness is troublesome; but I can’t see so much to regret in the solitude. The more I see of men, the less I like them. If I could but say so of women too, all would be well. Why can’t I? I am now six-and-twenty; my passions have had enough to cool them; my affections more than enough to wither them, — and yet — and yet — always yet and but— ‘Excellent well, you are a fishmonger — get thee to a nunnery.’— ‘They fool me to the top of my bent.’

  “Midnight.

  “Began a letter, which I threw into the fire. Redde — but to little purpose. Did not visit Hobhouse, as I promised and ought. No matter, the loss is mine. Smoked cigars.

  “Napoleon! — this week will decide his fate. All seems against him; but I believe and hope he will win — at least, beat back the invaders. What right have we to prescribe sovereigns to France? Oh for a Republic! ‘Brutus, thou sleepest.’ Hobhouse abounds in continental anecdotes of this extraordinary man; all in favour of his intellect and courage, but against his bonhommie. No wonder; — how should he, who knows mankind well, do other than despise and abhor them?

  “The greater the equality, the more impartially evil is distributed, and becomes lighter by the division among so many — therefore, a Republic!

  “More notes from Mad. de * * unanswered — and so they shall remain. I admire her abilities, but really her society is overwhelming — an avalanche that buries one in glittering nonsense — all snow and sophistry.

  “Shall I go to Mackintosh’s on Tuesday? um! — I did not go to Marquis Lansdowne’s, nor to Miss Berry’s, though both are pleasant. So is Sir James’s, — but I don’t know — I believe one is not the better for parties; at least, unless some regnante is there.

  “I wonder how the deuce any body could make such a world; for what purpose dandies, for instance, were ordained — and kings — and fellows of colleges — and women of ‘a certain age’ — and many men of any age — and myself, most of all!

  “‘Divesne prisco et natus ab Inacho, Nil interest, an pauper, et infimâ De gente, sub dio moreris, Victima nil miserantis Orci. * * * * * Omnes eodem cogimur.’

  “Is there any thing beyond? — who knows? He that can’t tell. Who tells that there is? He who don’t know. And when shall he know? perhaps, when he don’t expect, and generally when he don’t wish it. In this last respect, however, all are not alike: it depends a good deal upon education, — something upon nerves and habits — but most upon digestion.

  “Saturday, Feb. 19.

  “Just returned from seeing Kean in Richard. By Jove, he is a soul! Life — nature — truth without exaggeration or diminution. Kemble’s Hamlet is perfect; — but Hamlet is not Nature. Richard is a man; and Kean is Richard. Now to my own concerns.

  “Went to Waite’s. Teeth all right and white; but he says that I grind them in my sleep and chip the edges. That same sleep is no friend of mine, though I court him sometimes for half the twenty-four.

  “February 20.

  “Got up and tore out two leaves of this Journal — I don’t know why. Hodgson just called and gone. He has much bonhommie with his other good qualities, and more talent than he has yet had credit for beyond his circle.

  “An invitation to dine at Holland House to meet Kean. He is worth meeting; and I hope, by getting into good society, he will be prevented from falling like Cooke. He is greater now on the stage, and off he should never be less. There is a stupid and under-rating criticism upon him in one of the newspapers. I thought that, last night, though great, he rather under-acted more than the first time. This may be the effect of these cavils; but I hope he has more sense than to mind them. He cannot expect to maintain his present eminence, or to advance still higher, without the envy of his green-room fellows, and the nibbling of their admirers. But, if he don’t beat them all, why then — merit hath no purchase in ‘these coster-monger days.’

  “I wish that I had a talent for the drama; I would write a tragedy now. But no, — it is gone. Hodgson talks of one, — he will do it well; — and I think M — e should try. He has wonderful powers, and much variety; besides, he has lived and felt. To write so as to bring home to the heart, the heart must have been tried, — but, perhaps, ceased to be so. While you are under the influence of passions, you only feel, but cannot describe them, — any more than, when in action, you could turn round and tell the story to your next neighbour! When all is over, — all, all, and irrevocable, — trust to memory — she is then but too faithful.

  “Went out, and answered some letters, yawned now and then, and redde the Robbers. Fine, — but Fiesco is better; and Alfieri and Monti’s Aristodemo best. They are more equal than the Tedeschi dramatists.

  “Answered — or, rather acknowledged — the receipt of young Reynolds’s Poem, Safie. The lad is clever, but much of his thoughts are borrowed, — whence, the Reviewers may find out. I hate discouraging a young one; and I think, — though wild and more oriental than he would be, had he seen the scenes where he has placed his tale, — that he has much talent, and, certainly, fire enough.

  “Received a very singular epistle; and the mode of its conveyance, through Lord H.’s hands, as curious as the letter itself. But it was gratifying and pretty.

  “Sund
ay, February 27.

  “Here I am, alone, instead of dining at Lord H.’s, where I was asked, — but not inclined to go anywhere. Hobhouse says I am growing a loup garou, — a solitary hobgoblin. True;— ‘I am myself alone.’ The last week has been passed in reading — seeing plays — now and then visiters — sometimes yawning and sometimes sighing, but no writing, — save of letters. If I could always read, I should never feel the want of society. Do I regret it? — um!— ‘Man delights not me,’ and only one woman — at a time.

  “There is something to me very softening in the presence of a woman, — some strange influence, even if one is not in love with them, — which I cannot at all account for, having no very high opinion of the sex. But yet, — I always feel in better humour with myself and every thing else, if there is a woman within ken. Even Mrs. Mule, my fire-lighter, — the most ancient and withered of her kind, — and (except to myself) not the best-tempered — always makes me laugh, — no difficult task when I am ‘i’ the vein.’

  “Heigho! I would I were in mine island! — I am not well; and yet I look in good health. At times, I fear, ‘I am not in my perfect mind;’ — and yet my heart and head have stood many a crash, and what should ail them now? They prey upon themselves, and I am sick — sick— ‘Prithee, undo this button — why should a cat, a rat, a dog have life — and thou no life at all?’ Six-and-twenty years, as they call them, why, I might and should have been a Pasha by this time. ‘I ‘gin to be a weary of the sun.’

  “Buonaparte is not yet beaten; but has rebutted Blucher, and repiqued Swartzenburg. This it is to have a head. If he again wins, ‘Væ victis!’

  “Sunday, March 6.

  “On Tuesday last dined with Rogers, — Madame de Staël, Mackintosh, Sheridan, Erskine, and Payne Knight, Lady Donegall and Miss R. there. Sheridan told a very good story of himself and Madame de Recamier’s handkerchief; Erskine a few stories of himself only. She is going to write a big book about England, she says; — I believe her. Asked by her how I liked Miss * *’s thing, called * *, and answered (very sincerely) that I thought it very bad for her, and worse than any of the others. Afterwards thought it possible Lady Donegall, being Irish, might be a patroness of * *, and was rather sorry for my opinion, as I hate putting people into fusses, either with themselves or their favourites; it looks as if one did it on purpose. The party went off very well, and the fish was very much to my gusto. But we got up too soon after the women; and Mrs. Corinne always lingers so long after dinner that we wish her in — the drawing-room.

  “To-day C. called, and while sitting here, in came Merivale. During our colloquy, C.(ignorant that M. was the writer) abused the ‘mawkishness of the Quarterly Review of Grimm’s Correspondence.’ I (knowing the secret) changed the conversation as soon as I could; and C. went away, quite convinced of having made the most favourable impression on his new acquaintance. Merivale is luckily a very good-natured fellow, or, God he knows what might have been engendered from such a malaprop. I did not look at him while this was going on, but I felt like a coal — for I like Merivale, as well as the article in question.

  “Asked to Lady Keith’s to-morrow evening — I think I will go; but it is the first party invitation I have accepted this ‘season,’ as the learned Fletcher called it, when that youngest brat of Lady * *’s cut my eye and cheek open with a misdirected pebble— ‘Never mind, my Lord, the scar will be gone before the season;’ as if one’s eye was of no importance in the mean time.

  “Lord Erskine called, and gave me his famous pamphlet, with a marginal note and corrections in his handwriting. Sent it to be bound superbly, and shall treasure it.

  “Sent my fine print of Napoleon to be framed. It is framed; and the Emperor becomes his robes as if he had been hatched in them.

  “March 7.

  “Rose at seven — ready by half-past eight — went to Mr. Hanson’s, Berkeley Square — went to church with his eldest daughter, Mary Anne (a good girl), and gave her away to the Earl of Portsmouth. Saw her fairly a countess — congratulated the family and groom (bride) — drank a bumper of wine (wholesome sherris) to their felicity, and all that — and came home. Asked to stay to dinner, but could not. At three sat to Phillips for faces. Called on Lady M. — I like her so well, that I always stay too long. (Mem. to mend of that.)

  “Passed the evening with Hobhouse, who has begun a poem, which promises highly; — wish he would go on with it. Heard some curious extracts from a life of Morosini, the blundering Venetian, who blew up the Acropolis at Athens with a bomb, and be d —— d to him! Waxed sleepy — just come home — must go to bed, and am engaged to meet Sheridan to-morrow at Rogers’s.

  “Queer ceremony that same of marriage — saw many abroad, Greek and Catholic — one, at home, many years ago. There be some strange phrases in the prologue (the exhortation), which made me turn away, not to laugh in the face of the surpliceman. Made one blunder, when I joined the hands of the happy — rammed their left hands, by mistake, into one another. Corrected it — bustled back to the altar-rail, and said ‘Amen.’ Portsmouth responded as if he had got the whole by heart; and, if any thing, was rather before the priest. It is now midnight, and * * *.

  “March 10. Thor’s Day.

  “On Tuesday dined with Rogers, — Mackintosh, Sheridan, Sharpe, — much talk, and good, — all, except my own little prattlement. Much of old times — Horne Tooke — the Trials — evidence of Sheridan, and anecdotes of those times, when I, alas! was an infant. If I had been a man, I would have made an English Lord Edward Fitzgerald.

  “Set down Sheridan at Brookes’s, — where, by the by, he could not have well set down himself, as he and I were the only drinkers. Sherry means to stand for Westminster, as Cochrane (the stock-jobbing hoaxer) must vacate. Brougham is a candidate. I fear for poor dear Sherry. Both have talents of the highest order, but the youngster has yet a character. We shall see, if he lives to Sherry’s age, how he will pass over the redhot ploughshares of public life. I don’t know why, but I hate to see the old ones lose; particularly Sheridan, notwithstanding all his méchanceté.

  “Received many, and the kindest, thanks from Lady Portsmouth, père and mère, for my match-making. I don’t regret it, as she looks the countess well, and is a very good girl. It is odd how well she carries her new honours. She looks a different woman, and high-bred, too. I had no idea that I could make so good a peeress.

  “Went to the play with Hobhouse. Mrs. Jordan superlative in Hoyden, and Jones well enough in Foppington. What plays! what wit! — helas! Congreve and Vanbrugh are your only comedy. Our society is too insipid now for the like copy. Would not go to Lady Keith’s. Hobhouse thought it odd. I wonder he should like parties. If one is in love, and wants to break a commandment and covet any thing that is there, they do very well. But to go out amongst the mere herd, without a motive, pleasure, or pursuit— ‘sdeath! ‘I’ll none of it.’ He told me an odd report, — that I am the actual Conrad, the veritable Corsair, and that part of my travels are supposed to have passed in privacy. Um! — people sometimes hit near the truth; but never the whole truth. H. don’t know what I was about the year after he left the Levant; nor does any one — nor — nor — nor — however, it is a lie — but, ‘I doubt the equivocation of the fiend that lies like truth!’

  “I shall have letters of importance to-morrow. Which, * *, * *, or * *? heigho! — * * is in my heart, * * in my head, * * in my eye, and the single one, Heaven knows where. All write, and will be answered. ‘Since I have crept in favour with myself, I must maintain it;’ but I never ‘mistook my person,’ though I think others have.

  “* * called to-day in great despair about his mistress, who has taken a freak of * * *. He began a letter to her, but was obliged to stop short — I finished it for him, and he copied and sent it. If he holds out, and keeps to my instructions of affected indifference, she will lower her colours. If she don’t, he will, at least, get rid of her, and she don’t seem much worth keeping. But the poor lad is in love — if that is the case, s
he will win. When they once discover their power, finita e la musica.

  “Sleepy, and must go to bed.

  “Tuesday, March 15.

  “Dined yesterday with R., Mackintosh, and Sharpe. Sheridan could not come. Sharpe told several very amusing anecdotes of Henderson, the actor. Stayed till late, and came home, having drank so much tea, that I did not get to sleep till six this morning. R. says I am to be in this Quarterly — cut up, I presume, as they ‘hate us youth.’ N’importe. As Sharpe was passing by the doors of some debating society (the Westminster Forum), in his way to dinner, he saw rubricked on the walls Scott’s name and mine— ‘Which the best poet?’ being the question of the evening; and I suppose all the Templars and would bes took our rhymes in vain, in the course of the controversy. Which had the greater show of hands, I neither know nor care; but I feel the coupling of the names as a compliment, — though I think Scott deserves better company.

  “W.W. called — Lord Erskine, Lord Holland, &c. &c. Wrote to * * the Corsair report. She says she don’t wonder, since ‘Conrad is so like.’ It is odd that one, who knows me so thoroughly, should tell me this to my face. However, if she don’t know, nobody can.