From Chambers's Edinburgh Journal. THOMAS MOORE. "I CANNOT help thinking that it is possible to love one's country very zealously, and to feel deeply interested in her honor and happiness, without believing that the Irish was the language spoken in Paradise-that our ancestors were kind enough to polish the Greek or that Avaris, the hyperborean, was a native of Ireland." It is to Thomas Moore, who thus frankly and truly speaks, that Ireland is indebted for at least the beginning of the association of her name with elegant literature. He has been the defender of her political and religious liberties; he has sympathized with her wrongs, and pleaded indignantly against her oppression; he has held up her claims to equitable treatment, veiled her foibles and vices, and inseparably connected her in the imagination with all that is graceful in music and song. Thomas Moore was born on the 28th of May, 1780. Genius, the French say, is especially plebeian, and the poet was no exception to the rule. His father was Garret Moore, a respectable tradesman in Dublin, gifted with plain good sense, and possessing some acquirements. Nothing is recorded worthy of notice in regard to Moore's childhood; none of those precocious evidences of talent that have so frequently disappointed expectation. He was placed at school with a Mr. Whyte, in Grafton street, Dublin, where he made such satisfactory progress, that his father thought he was justified in transplantiug him at fourteen to Trinity College. There, although in the midst of much unblushing obsequiousness to authority of any and every kind, young Moore acquired and cherished that independence of feeling which ever afterwards distinguished him. He was remarkable, likewise, from his earlier years for his social tem-. per, and distinguished for his conversational talents and ready wit, at a time when the principles he professed were regarded with an evil eye by the political party that ruled Ireland under a system destitute of all principle. At that time, about the close of the century, there was a spirit of conviviality abroad in Dublin, which was shared by many persons of talent. In their amusements they exhibited no small fertility of invention, if all their countrymen, Sir Jonah Barrington, has written about them is to be credited. There is a small island, or rather rock, on the south side of the bay of Dublin, called Dalkey Island, lying off a town of the same name on the main. A number of frolicsome spirits, and among them Curran the Irish master of the rolls, suggested an annual visit to this island, and the coronation of a monarch of the fete, to be called the King of Dalkey, together with the attendant officers of a mock court. The day was always humorously announced in the "Dublin Morning Post." Various regal ceremonies were performed, guns were fired, a mock-heroic speech delivered from the throne, and the new monarch anointed by pouring a beaker of whiskey upon his head. Petitions and complaints accumulated during the preceding year were heard and answered, an archbishop preached a courtly sermon, a laureate ode was recited, and a dinner on the rocks concluded the business of the day. Some of the proceedings were very humorous. There was a Lord Minikin, dignified as lieutenant of the town; and a periwinkle order of knighthood. The last coronation took place in 1797, just before the rebellion broke out, when such proceedings might have been punished as treasonable. Moore was then in his 17th year, and contributed the last laureate ode. The lines not being in his works, may be worthy of record here :— Our soldiers here deserve the name, Nor wear a feather they don't pluck from fame! How much unlike those wretched realms Here informers get no pensions No placemen nor pensioners here are harangu- No soldiers are shooting, no seamen are hang- No mutiny reins in the army or fleet, Thus young did the poet exhibit that spirit of lent : "You, sir, are, I understand, connected with this kingdom of Dalkey ?" I am, my lord." "Pray, may I ask how are you nized ?" “I am Duke of Muglins." "And what post may you hold ?" "Chief commissioner of revenue." "What are your emoluments?" "I am allowed to import ten thousand hogsheads duty free." "How ?-hogsheads of what?" equally against law and reason, was a mild proceeding to someothers taken about that time. Many of the collegians were ready. to swear that they were not themselves disaffected persons; others would not swear one way or the other, insisting upon the unconstitutional nature of such a requirement. On thus objecting, fifty were marked out for expulsion. Thomas Moore was one of the first who refused to be sworn. He objected until the scene became ludicrous. He shook his head at the book which they wanted to thrust upon him, and put his hand behind his back; they then tried to put it into his left hand, and he placed that where his right was. They still pressed the book upon him, and he retreated backward until the wall of the room forbade his retreating further. On the following day the chancellor, probably feeling he had presumed too far, modified the oath, and Moore consented to swear that he knew of no treasonable practices or societies within the walls of the university. This conduct exhibited remarkable firmness in a lad of sixteen. His acuteness, and his progress in classical acquirements at the college, are yet remembered by some of his contemporaries. In 1799 Moore quitted Ireland for London, and entered himself of the Middle Temple, being in his nineteenth year. In place of studying the law, however, he employed himself in translating the Odes of Anacreon. He was at this time a mere boy in appearance, and his translation obtained for recog-him the name of "Anacreon Moore." The "Anacreon" is a fluent and pleasing, rather than a close translation. The Greek of "Anacreon," at all times too condensed for a modern tongue, has always been paraphrased rather than translated-by Cowley and Hawkes, for example-in English, none approaching the brevity of the original. Not only did Moore shine as a translator at this time, but also as a wit, a "failing" fatal to the due consideration demanded by Coke and Littleton. His powers in this respect are on record by one who was both himself a wit, and the cause of wit in others. Sheridan highly praised his brilliant conversational powers, and declared there was "no man who put so much of his heart into his fancy as Thomas Moore." "Of salt-water, my lord!" The lord chancellor made no further inquiry about Dalkey. There is another anecdote of Lord Clare with which Thomas Moore was connected. Moore was then at Trinity College. The lord chancellor, hearing that an offensive paper had been circulated among the collegians, insisted that they and their officers should take an inquisitorial oath, called "an oath of discovery;" or, in other words, should swear before him, each and all of them, that they did not know who had written the document, and that they had not written the seditious paper themselves; and further, that they did not know of any disaffected persons or treasonable societies in the university. Such an oath 1 of those days as delightful, but the opera scription. In 1803 he was appointed vice- | 66 The The next work of Moore was of a higher character-the "Irish Melodies," written at Mayfield or Mathfield in Staffordshire. These are too well appreciated by all who feel the charms of music and song, and, above all, by the poet's countrymen, to need criticism. He was perhaps the only poet among all his contemporaries who understood music, and was able to set his own songs. He had therefore peculiar advantages for undertaking such a work, although the present airs were arranged by Sir John Stevenson. Moore was not only a composer, but played and sung with great taste, and his voice was remarkably soft and pleasing. He translated at this time a portion of Sallust for Murphy, and edited the work soon after the death of that author. The "Skeptic," an odd theme for the erratic muse of Moore, and a performance not very edifying either in its ethics or rhyme, was next published. "Lalla Rookh," an Oriental romance, appeared in 1817. For this poem Moore received three thousand guineas. It was read universally, and translated into several European languages. Though an Eastern tale, it has none of the verisimilitude of “ Vathek" as respects Eastern manners and objects. It is in this respect for the most part wholly poetical, and is indebted to the richness of the author's fancy for its attraction, as he has seized insulated objects belonging to Eastern climes and manners, and strung them his own way rather than in their natural associations. The poem has no lofty Miltonic flights-no hall of Eblis reaching the height of the sublime-but it is calculated to suit the taste of every order of mind. Young and old, educated and uneducated, | alike comprehend its luxurious imagery, sweet passages, fascinating descriptions, and gorgeous voluptuousness: hence the uncommon popularity of the poem. The gilding and carmine, the glare and riches, lavished upon a feeble structure of story, are not at first seen to be misplaced. The numbers flow harmoniously, and there is no surfeit from the perfumes that are presented to the senses. Those who have hearts for the deeper things of humanity, whose enjoyments come not from external color, Orient hues and Tyrian purple, will prefer the heart which is shown in many of Moore's other productions. "Lalla Rookh" is too merely sensuous for such as seek their pleasure in natural things. "The Fudge Family in Paris" appeared in 1818, purporting to be letters in verse written by Thomas Brown the Younger. Mr. Fudge, the author has hinted, was one of those "gentlemen" whom the Lord Castlereagh of that day delighted to honor with pensions for certain offices which individuals with clean hands scorned to perform. The letters are full of political allusions, but with interest generally of a temporary char acter. 66 Sacred and National Songs and Ballads," "Tom Crib's Memorial to Congress," "Trifles Reprinted in Verse," and "The Loves of the Angels," next appeared. "The Loves of the Angels" was written at the moment when Byron was about to publish his beautiful drama on the same subject; but in "Cain" there is an intensity of feeling which in Moore's poems is looked for in vain. Rhymes on the Road." "Evenings in Greece," "Memoirs of Captain Rock," in prose, "The Epicurean," "Life of Sheridan," one of Byron, and it is said "A Letter from a Young Man in Search of a Religion," have all proceeded from his fertile pen. Moore's prose works, however, have not added to his literary reputation. The poet married Miss Dyke, a lady of beauty and accomplishments, by whom he had several children, who are now dead. He resided at one period in a retired cottage at Mathfield or Mayfield, on the Staffordshire side of the river Dove, two miles from Ashbourne in Derbyshire. His habitation was truly a cottage, squarely built, having an orchard on one side, and trellis work around the door. His small library was in a room on one side, and from thence he dated No. 6 of the "Irish Melodies" in 1815. Here he was only a mile from Oberon Hall, and but three miles from Wootton, where Rousseau lived for some time, not far from the noble woods of Ilam and the entrance to Dovedale, renowned for the visits of Isaac Walton. Latterly, his residence has been at Sloperton Cottage, near Devizes, Wilts. It is not so picturesque as his Staffordshire retreat, but more convenient. It is within a short distance of Bowood, the seat of the Marquis of Lansdowne, and not a great way from Bremhill parsonage, the residence of the late Rev. William Lisle Bowles, a brother poet. There are two doors in front of the cottage, which is very plain; both are surrounded with trelliswork, and the whole covered with flowering shrubs. As a host, Moore was hospitable, lively, and attentive to his guests: the "feast of reason and the flow of soul" every accompanying the grosser entertainment. was always full of animation, easy, and cordial, but in person so diminutive, that the Prince of Wales (George IV.) is said to have hinted in his own presence that a winecooler would make an appropriate habitation for the Bacchanalian poet. Moore's acquaintance with Byron commenced in an odd way. The latter had turned into ridicule, in his "English Bards and Scotch Reviewers," the bloodless duel between Moore and Jeffrey, in the lines "When Little's leadless pistols met his eye, And Bow Street myrmidons stood laughing by." Moore's Milesian blood was immediately up; and he addressed a letter on the subject to the noble poet, which (Byron being abroad at the time) did not reach him for a year and a-half. When Byron at length received the missive, he wrote a candid, manly reply, assuring Moore that he would find him ready to adopt any conciliatory proposition which should not compromise his honor. This led to a meeting at Roger's, when four poetsRogers, Campbell, Moore, and Byron-sat down together to a friendly dinner. A singular circumstance in relation to Byron occurred in the life of Moore. There were certain memoirs of the noble poet written by himself, and placed in Moore's hands as a legacy, for his sole benefit. Moore, at the desire of his friend, lodged the manuscript with Mr. Murray, the bookseller, as a security for the sum of two thousand guineas. "Believing," said Moore, "that the manuscript was still mine, I placed it at the disposal of Lord Byron's sister, Mrs. Leigh, with the sole reservation of a protest against its total destruction-at least without previous perusal and consultation among the 66 | parties. The majority of the persons present disagreed with me in opinion, and it was the only point upon which there did exist any difference between us. The manuscript was accordingly torn and burned before our eyes, and I immediately paid to Mr. Murray, in the presence of the gentlemen assembled, two thousand guineas, with interest, &c., being the amouut of what I had owed him upon, the security of my bond," &c. The family of Byron proposed an arrangement by which Moore might be reimbursed; but this he declined. Moore's conduct was applauded by many, but not by all. It was pointed out that there was a duty owing to the deceased poet, which had been neglected. The proper course to have taken was for persons of judgment, totally unconnected with the parties, to have read the papers, and if there were anything seriously objectionable, to sanction their destruction. Byron seems to have concluded that the papers would be in safe custody in a friend's hands; and farther, he had declared he was indifferent about all the world knowing what they contained. "There were few licentious adventures of his own, or scandalous anecdotes that would affect others, in the book." It is taken up from my earliest recollections-almost from childhood-very incoherent, written in a very loose and familiar style. The second part will prove a good lesson to young men; for it treats of the irregular life I led at one period, and the fatal consequences of dissipation. There are few parts that may not, and none that will not, be read by women." In the year 1818 a public dinner was given to Moore in Dublin. The Earl of Charlemont was in the chair, and the poet and his venerable father sat on his right and left hand. The poet was welcomed to his native land with the most flattering acclamations. He replied in a very eloquent but short speech, being much affected by the scene around him. One of the passages in his speech on "The poet" being given as a toast, will explain his manner, and it ran as follows :-"Can I name to you Byron without recalling to your hearts recollections of all that his mighty genius has awakened there; his energy, his burning words, his intense passion, that disposition of fine fancy to wandering among the ruins of the heart, to dwell in places which the fire of feeling has desolated, and like the chestnut-tree, that grows best on volcanic soils, to luxuriate most where the conflagration of passion has left its mark? Need I mention to you Scott, that fertile and fascinating writer, the vegetation of whose mind is as rapid as that of a northern summer, and as rich as the most golden harvest of the south, whose beautiful creations succeed each other like fruits in Armida's enchanted gardenone scarce is gathered ere another grows? Shall I recall to you Rogers, who has hung up his own name on the shrine of memory, among the most imperishable tablets there? Southey (not the laureate) but the author of Don Roderick,' one of the noblest and most eloquent poems in any language? Campbell, the polished and spirited Campbell, whose song of Innisfail' is the very tears of our own Irish muse, crystallized by the touch of genius-made immortal? Wordsworth, a poet even in his puerilities, whose capacious mind, like the great whirlpool of Norway, draws into its vortex not only the mighty things of the deep, but its minute weeds and refuse? Crabbe, who has shown what the more than galvanic power of talent can effect, by giving not only motion, but life and soul, to subjects that seemed incapable of it? I could enumerate still more," &c. Moore visited Paris with his family in 1822, and resided there for some weeks, became acquainted with many of the literary characters of that capital, most of whom have since since been taken away by death. A dinner was given to him by some of his countrymen on this occasion, which was very numerously attended, and which he addressed with his accustomed facility and figurativeness of expression. On numerous public occasions in the British metropolis, he has also delivered speeches of more than ordinary eloquence, especially where they have been connected with literary objects. His songs Moore, however, is merely the poet of society: he belongs to artificial life. Incapable of a flight long sustained, his poetical talents are best displayed in poems of a few pages, or even a few stanzas. He is evidently the bard of the town circles-lively, witty, fluttering, and brilliant. Nothing can be farther in idea from a Highland solitude, a dashing brook, or the aspect of a sere autumn, than the poetry of Moore. are not full of natural truth, like those of Burns, nor elevating, nor passionate, after nature's simple guise. He makes love in the drawing-room. His heroines are all town ladies, dressed by court tire-women in the newest mode from Madame Deville's. They are opera-haunters, ballet-dancers, and figu rantes. In satire his excellence consists in hitting-as a pugilist would say the vanities, ignorance, and vulgarisms of high life, and the inanities of great personages. Like |