Oh! who may sing that hour of mortal strife, One cheerless blank, one rayless mist is there- Here the reader has the first effort of the essayist's mind. To trace its growth in the Edinburgh, and in the Lays of Ancient Rome, will repay the study-possibly if Alexander Smith attempt it, he may one day write a history brilliant as Macaulay's, and an essay famous as that on Ranke's Popes. ART. VI.-MOORE'S JOURNALS AND CORRESPONDENCE. Memoirs, Journals, and Correspondence of Thomas Moore. Edited by the Right Honourable Lord John Russell, M.P. Vols. I., II., III., IV. London: Longman and Co. 1853. At the conclusion of the second volume of this work, Thomas Moore was, on the 30th of August, 1819, in London, and preparing to start with Lord John Russell upon a continental tour. He had told us of his birth; of his school days; of his early London struggles; of his unfortunate colonial appointment; of his duel with Jeffrey; of his introduction to Byron; of his marriage; of his removal to Derbyshire; of his triumphs as a poet; of his position in the society of the gay and great; of his struggles, his difficulties, and his fears. On quitting England with Lord John Russell, he left his wife and children in his recently hired residence, Sloperton, and from the 5th of September, 1819, the day upon which he sailed from Dover, to the 31st of October, 1825, the day upon which the last entry in that portion of the Diary closing the fourth volume is made, his life appears to have been six years of gaiety, scarcely chequered by disappointment or saddened by care. True, there were dark and weary days when exile or the gaol seemed lowring before him; but the elastic spirit of the poet bore its possessor through all; his own bright fancy-a sunshine of the soul peculiar to himself-made that but a passing care which would have been to many men gnawing as "a rooted sorrow." In these four volumes, particularly in the two first issued, there is left upon the mind of him who reads them aright, a regretful feeling that Moore was not formed by nature more unamiable in disposition, because thus he might have escaped being the "idol of his own" brilliant circle. Amongst all the men of genius over whose autobiographies and mind-histories we have mused, saddened yet delighted, this is the very wofullest. Life was frittered away; genius was squandered; learning was used, and, indeed, confessedly but acquired, to illustrate the flashing, glowing genius of his poems. He did " dearly love a Lord;" and, as with equal truth, Byron said, wasted too many years" among dowagers and unmarried girls." Through all the portion of the Diary kept during his residence in Paris or its neighbourhood, we can discover little save the records of dances, dinners, and pleasures; stories of great people, reminding us most strongly of a modern Brantome, so that we almost expect to meet J'ay cognu une fort belle et honneste dame de par le monde-or-Jay cognu un gentilhomme très-honneste à la cour, as the gay old Frenchman writes when about to introduce his stories; and the high, the pleasant society in which Moore lived and was so prized, proves how truly Scott judged when writing-"he's a charming fellow, a perfect gentleman in society; to use a sporting phrase, there is no kick in his gallop." It was impossible to reside in his neighbourhood and not know him; it was equally impossible to know him and not like him. Thus, when he lodged in the same house with Benjamin Constant, the great orator cannot resist sending word to Moore that Madame Constant would come down from her etage to take chocolate with him; but this using Madame's name was only a ruse, a playing upon Moore's gallantry, for down came Benjamin himself without the lady. The poet was, indeed, a complete contradiction to Le Mercier's observation-on est etranger a son voisin. That Moore felt the effect of this mode of life, and fully appreciated the injurious extent to which friends had become the thieves of his time, is evident in several portions of the Diary. Melancthon himself was not more industrious in deed, than was Moore in intention; and in the midst of all his whirling life, it is amusing to find him writing thus, in the Journal: we dined alone with our little ones, for the first time, since the first of July, which was a very great treat to both of us; and Bessy said, in going to bed, this is the first rational day we have had for a long time.' Before I went to bed, experienced one of those bursts of devotion which, perhaps, are worth all the church-going forms in the world. Tears came fast from me as I knelt down to adore the one only God, whom I acknowledge, and poured forth the aspirations of a soul deeply grateful for all his goodness." This is a touching entry, and referring to "Bessy's" observation, "this is the first rational day we have had for a long time," Lord John Russell observes-"Mrs. Moore was quite right; in reading over the diary of dinners, balls, and visits to the theatre, I feel some regret in reflecting that I had some hand in persuading Moore to prefer France to Holyrood. universal popularty was his chief enemy." His The Melodies, The Satirical Poems, and The Loves of the Angels, written during his residence in France, were composed at times which there is little impropriety or exaggeration in calling odd quarter hours. Byron wrote with more preparation than Moore: indeed had he led an existence exciting, and society-disturbed, as that of the latter, he could never have produced Childe Harold or Don Juan. In Byron's Diary we see the working of the mind, even though the pen has but traced the thoughts which were afterwards wrought out. In Moore's Journal we rarely perceive the working of the mind, save where he specially informs us of the particulars and of the circumstances connected with the composition of the poem upon which he was engaged. He did, occasionally, read for an hour or two at Denon's, or in the Bibliothèque Royal, but he appears rarely to have extended his study beyond two hours. We write thus regretfully, because better things might have been expected, and must of necessity have proceeded from Moore's mind, had he devoted a larger portion of his time to careful and well-regulated study; and those who now sneer at his pretensions to the fame of a great poet, classing him merely amongst brilliant song writers, would have been silent or harmless. Scott's plan of composition was, indeed, somewhat different from either of his brother poets. He said to Robert Cadell, "I lie simmering over things for an hour or two before I get up-and there's the time I am dressing to overhaul my halfsleeping half-waking projet de chapitre-and when I get the paper before me, it commonly runs off pretty easily. Besides I often take a doze in the plantations, and while Tom marks out a dyke or a drain as I have directed, one's fancy may be running its ain riggs in some other world." Moore allowed every thing, every friend, and every little untoward circumstance to check his work. Not so with Scott. When writing The Bride of Lammermoor he was ill, racked by pain, and obliged to seek the aid of an amanuensis, and Moore thus writes,-"Called upon Stewart Rose, who has brought me a letter of introduction from Lord Landsdowne. Talking of Scott (with whom he is intimate), says he has no doubt of his being the author of all the novels. Scott's life in Edinburgh favorable to working; dines always at home, and writes in the evening. Writing quite necessary to him; so much so, that when he was very ill some time ago, he used to dictate for three or four hours at a time." The real facts of the manner in which Scott wrote are thus stated by Lockhart : "The copy (as M.S. for the press is technically called) which Scott was thus dictating, was that of The Bride of Lammermoor, and his amanuensises were William Laidlaw and John Ballantyne ;—of whom he preferred the latter, when he could be at Abbotsford, on account of the superior rapidity of his pen; and also because John kept his pen to the paper without interruption, and, though with many an arch twinkle in his eyes, and now and then an audible smack of his lips, had resolution to work on like a well-trained clerk; whereas good Laidlaw entered with such keen zest into the interest of the story as it flowed from the author's lips, that he could not suppress exclamations of surprise and delight Gude keep us a'!-the like o' that!-eh sirs! eh sirs!' and so forth-which did not promote dispatch. I have often, however, in the sequel, heard both these secretaries describe the astonishment with which they were equally affected when Scott began this experiment. The affectionate Laidlaw beseeching him to stop dictating, when his audible suffering filled every pause, Nay, Willie,' he answered, only see that the doors are fast. I would fain keep all the cry as well as all the wool to ourselves; but as to giving over work, that can only be when I am in woollen.' John Ballantyne told me, that after the first day, he always took care to have a dozen good pens made before he seated himself opposite to the sofa on which Scott lay, and that though he often turned himself on his pillow with a groan of torment, he usually 6 continued the sentence in the same breath. But when dialogue of peculiar animation was in progress, spirit seemed to triumph altogether over matter-he arose from his couch and walked up and down the room, raising and lowering his voice, and as it were acting the parts. It was in this fashion that Scott produced the far greater portion of the Bride of Lammermoor-the whole of the Legend of Montrose-and almost the whole of Ivanhoe. Yet, when his health was fairly re-established, he disdained to avail himself of the power of dictation, which he had thus put to the sharpest test, but resumed, and for many years resolutely adhered to, the old plan of writing everything with his own hand. When I once, sometime afterwards, expressed my surprise that he did not consult his ease, and spare his eyesight at all events, by occasionally dictating, he answered-'I should as soon think of getting into a sedan chair while I can use my legs." Moore's chief object in undertaking the continental tour, with the description of which nearly the whole of the third volume is occupied, was to pay a visit to Lord Byron, then residing in the neighbourhood of Venice. The account which he gives of the statues, pictures and churches, we omit; but it is interesting to compare it with those of many of the same works of art described two hundred and seventy years ago by Montaigne, and one hundred and fifty years ago by Addison. Moore arrived at Lord Byron's villa, on the seventh of October, 1819, and gives the following relation of all he witnessed on that day, and during his stay in Venice: "Left Padua at twelve, and arrived at Lord Byron's country house, La Mira, near Fusina, at two. He was but just up and in his bath; soon came down to me; first time we have met these five years; grown fat, which spoils the picturesqueness of his head. The Countess Guiccioli, whom he followed to Ravenna, came from thence with him to Venice by the consent, it appears, of her husband. Found him in high spirits and full of his usual frolicksome gaiety. He insisted upon my making use of his house in Venice while I stay, but could not himself leave the Guiccioli. He drest, and we set off together in my carriage for Venice; a glorious sunset when we embarked at Fusina in a gondola, and the view of Venice and the distant Alps (some of which had snow on them, reddening with the last light) was magnificent; but my companion's conversation, which, though highly ludicrous and amusing, was anything but romantic, threw my mind and imagination into a mood not at all agreeing with the scene. Arrived at his palazzo on the Grand Canal, (he having first made the gondolier row round in order to give me a sight of the Piazetta), where he gave orders with the utmost anxiety and good nature for my accommodation, and dispatched persons in search of a laquais de place, and his friend Mr. Scott, to give me in charge to. No Opera this evening. He ordered dinner from a traiteur's, and |