Poems, under the assumed name of the late] Thomas Little, Esq. 8vo. 1808. Without entering into the respective claims of Mr Murray and myself to the property in A Letter to the Roman Catholics of Dublin. these memoirs (a question which, now that they 8vo. 1810. are destroyed, can be but of little moment to any M. P., or the Blue Stocking, a comic opera in one), it is sufficient to say that, believing the three acts, performed at the Lyceum. 1811. Intercepted Letters, or the Twopenny-Post Bag (in verse), by Thomas Brown the Younger. 8vo. 1812. Of this upwards of fourteen editions have appeared in England. manuscript still to be 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 perusa! and consultation among the parties. The ma A Selection of Irish Melodies, continued to jority of the persons present disagreed with this 9 numbers. opinion, and it was the only point upon which there did exist any difference between us. The manuscript was, accordingly, torn and burnt before our eyes; and I immediately paid to Mr Murray, in the presence of the gentlemen assembled, two thousand guineas, with interest, etc., being the Mr Moore completed the translation of Sallust, which had been left unfinished by Mr Arthur Murphy, and he superintended the printing of the work for the purchaser, Mr Carpenter. The Sceptic, a philosophical satire. Lalla Rookh, an oriental romance, dedicated to amount of what I owed him upon the security Samuel Rogers, Esq. 1817. of my bond, and for which I now stand indebted The Fudge Family in Paris, letters in verse. to my publishers, Messrs Longman and Co. 1818. National Airs, continued to four numbers. Ballads, Songs, etc. Tom Crib's Memorial to Congress, in verse. Rhymes on the Road, extracted from the journal of a travelling member of the Pococurante Society. Miscellaneous Poems, by different members of the Pococurante Society. Fables for the Holy Alliance, in verse. « Since then the family of Lord Byron have, in a manner highly honourable to themselves, proposed an arrangement, by which the sum thus paid to Mr Murray might be reimbursed to me; but, from feelings and considerations which it is unnecessary here to explain, I have respectfully, but peremptorily, declined their offer.. Before we proceed to offer a few unprejudiced observations on this unpleasant subject, we deem it proper to lay before our readers the various opinions, pro et contra, to which this letter of Mr Moore gave rise. It is but justice, however, to Mr Moore's high and unblemished reputation to premise, that neither by those who regretted the burning of Byron's Memoirs, as a public loss, The Life of the late Right Honourable Richard nor by those who condemned it as a dereliction Brinsley Sheridan. For Lalla Rookh Mr Moore received 3,000 guineas of Messrs Longman and Co. For the Life of Sheridan he was paid 2,000 guineas by the same house.-Mr Moore enjoys an annuity of 5ool. from Power, the music-seller, for the Irish Melodies and other lyrical pieces. He has, moreover, lately, we understand, engaged to write for the TIMES newspaper, at a salary of 500l. per annum. It is well known that the Memoirs of the late Lord Byron, written by himself, had been deposited in the keeping of Mr Moore, and designed as a legacy for his benefit. It is also known that the latter, with the consent and at the desire of his lordship, had long ago sold the manuscript to Mr Murray, the bookseller, for the sum of two thousand guineas. These memoirs are, however, lost to the world: the leading facts relative to which were related in the following letter addressed by Mr Moore to the English journals: of the most important duty he owed to the memory and fame of his noble-minded friend-by none of these, nor by any one we ever heard of, has Mr Moore's honour, disinterestedness, or delicacy-extreme delicacy-ever been, in the slightest degree impeached. The enemies of «The Eurning said, that Mr Moore's explanatory letter was an ingenious but not an ingenuous one-for that, at any rate, it threw no light on the subject.-They cavilled at the words and it was the only point on which there did exist any difference between us,» professing to wonder what other point of any consequence could possibly have been in discussion, save that of preserving or destroying the manuscript. They could not see, or were incapable of feeling, what paramount sense of delicacy or duty could operate upon a mind like Mr Moore's to counterbalance the delicacy and duty due to his dead friend's fame, which, according to them, he had thus abandoned to a sea of idle speculation.—Moreover, they were unable to comprehend what business Mr Murray moirs. We have received several letters expressing the bookseller, or any of the gentlemen present, the extreme mortification of the writers on learnhad with the business, when Mr Moore had re-ing the fact, and venting their indignation in no deemed the MS., with interest, etc.," and with very measured terms against the perpetrators, his own money (that is, the sum he borrowed for and we should not have concealed our own opithe purpose). Finally, it was past their under- | nion that, however nobly Mr Thomas Moore may standing to conceive, how any person could allow have acted as regards his own interest, his pubhis own fair, just, and honourably-acquired pro- | lished letter makes out no justification either in perty to be burnt and destroyed before his eyes, regard to his late illustrious friend, whose repuand against his own protested opinion, even if, tation was thus abandoned without that defence, from an honest but too sensitive deference for which probably his own pen could alone furnish, others, he had conceded so far as to withhold of many misrepresented passages in his conduct; its publication to a more convenient season; » or in regard to the world, which is thus robbed or simply to preserve it as a precious relic in his of a treasure that can never be replaced. But family. we have learnt one fact, which puts a different face upon the whole matter. It is, that Lord Byron himself did not wish the Memoirs published. How they came into the hands of Mr Moore and the bookseller-for what purpose and under what reservations-we shall probably be at liberty to explain at a future time; for the present, we can only say that such is the fact, as the noble poet's intimate friends can testify,» To this, the firm supporters of church and state-the pure sticklers for public morals-the friends of decorum and decency-the respecters of the inviolability of domestic privacy--the foes to unlicensed wit and poetic license-the disinterested and tender regarders of Lord Byron's character itself,—one and all, proudly replied, that Mr Moore had performed one of the most difficult and most delicate duties that ever fell to the Such were the couflicting opinions of the time relating to this mysterious and painfully delicate subject; on which, however, we are bound to introduce a few suminary remarks. This is indeed an explanation «devoutly to be lot of man, friend, citizen, or christian to per-wished, nor can we conceive why it should be form, in the most manly, friendly, patriotic, and | still delayed. It is highly probable, however, that christian-like manner. As a man, he had nobly Mr Moore will himself fully and satisfactorily sacrificed his private interest and opinion, out of elucidate the affair, in the life he is said to be respect to Lord Byron's living connexions; as a writing of Lord Byron. friend, he had evinced a real and rare friendship by withholding, at his own personal loss, those self-and- thoughtlessly-intruded specks and deformities of a great character from the popular gaze, which delights too much to feast on the infirmities of noble minds. As a citizen, he had forborne to display sparkling wit at the expense of sound morality; and, finally, as a christian, he had acted like a good and faithful servant of the church, in leaving his friend's memory, and sing his own reputation, to martyrdom, from the most religious and exalted motives. expo The private and particular friends of Mr Moore briefly and triumphantly referred to his unspotted character, When Lord Byron's death was once ascertained, the whole interest of society seemed centered in his Memoirs. Curiosity swallowed up grief; and people, becoming wearied by the comments of other writers on him who was no more, turned with unexampled anxiety to know what he had written upon himself. Whether or not the public had a right to these Memoirs, is a question which it is not, perhaps, quite useless to discuss. It is, at any rate, our opinion that they had the right; and that the depository of the manuscript was no more than a trustee for the public, however his individual interest was concerned or consulted. Lord Byron bequeathed his Memoirs to the world. The profits of their sale were alone meant for Mr Moore. Lord Byron's family had no pretension whatever to the monopoly. And though the delicate consideration of Mr Moore prompted his offer of having the manuscript perused and purified, if such be the proper word, by the nearest surviving relative of Lord Byron, we maintain that he was right, strictly right, in We were going to allude again this week to protesting against its unconditional destruction. the question between Mr Moore and the public, For ourselves, we think that, in respect to the respecting the destruction of Lord Byron's Me-burning, Mr Moore's conduct is not clearly un Which never yet the breath of calumny had tainted, and they properly condemned uncharitable conjecture on a subject of which the most that could be said was Causa latet, vis est notissima. The Examiner newspaper gave the subjoined statement, which, if it were properly authenticated, would at once set the matter at rest, to the entire justification of the Bard of Erin. a derstood or appreciated. Some blame, as we large; and a satisfaction which may be, in most have shown, appears to have been attached to his instances, withheld from the one, ought very rareshare in the matter, not only in Great Britain, ly to be refused to the other. Nothing has ever had but on the continent, where the subject excited' such power of excitement upon the mass of manan interest quite as lively as in England. But it kind as private details of illustrious individuals, is our opinion that Mr Moore's conduct in the and, most of all, what may be called their confesaffair has been too hastily condemned. One duty, sions: and if those individuals chuse to make we think, remains for his performance-but one, their opinions as much the property of the and that most imperative: it is to give to the world after their death, as their conduct and world the genuine work of Lord Byron, if it be their works had been before, we repeat, that it is in his power to do so. The opinion is at all nothing short of a fraud upon the public to events wide spread, if not well founded, that one snatch away the treasure of which they were the copy at least of the original work is in existence. just inheritors. Nor must it be said that the That opinion is afloat, and nothing will sink it. property in question is of no intrinsic value. If the Life which Mr Moore is supposed to be Every thing which ministers to the public indulpreparing come out as his own production, it gence is of wealth proportioned to its raritywill be difficult, if not impossible, to convince and in this point of view Lord Byron's Memoirs the public that it is not a compilation from the were beyond price. If they contain gross scancopy which we allude to, or from a memory pow-dal, or indecent disclosure, let such parts be superfully tenacious of the original. If it be not pressed; and enough will remain amply to satisfy avowed as such, its genuineness will be doubted, all readers. But we say this merely for the sake and a dozen spurious lives will probably appear, of supposition, and for the purpose of refuting professing to be that identical copy, of whose an argument founded in an extreme case; we existence no one will consent to doubt. No rea- have great pleasure in believing that the only presoning, nothing, in fact, short of Mr Moore's tence for such an imputation on the manuscript, positive assertion to the contrary, will persuade was the selfish or squeamish act of its supprespeople that he could, for years, have run the risksion. of leaving so interesting a manuscript, or that he could have entrusted it, without possessing a duplicate, in the hands of any one. And, at all events, it will be thought morally certain, that more than one of those to whom it was entrusted had curiosity enough to copy it; and very improbable that any one had honesty enough to confess it. Besides these reasons for the publication of the real Memoirs, supposing a copy to exist, there is one of such paramount importance, that we are sure it must have struck every body who has thought at all upon the subject. We mean the retrospective injury done to the character of the deceased, by the conjectures which are abroad, as to the nature of the Memoirs he left behind. We do not pretend to be in the secret of their contents, but we are quite sure they can be in no way so reprehensible, as the public imagination, and the enemies of Lord Byron, have figured them to be; and there is one notion concerning them, of a nature too delicate to touch upon, and for the removal of which no sacrifice of individual or family vanity would be a price too high. We have, moreover, good authority for believing that the Memoirs might and ought to have been published, with perfect safety to public morals, and with a very considerable gratification to public anxiety. Curiosity, which is so contemptible in individuals, assumes a very different aspect when it is shared by society at We trust that Mr Moore will yet consider well the part he has to perform; that he is not insensible to the narro arrow scrutiny which the public displays in this affair, and which posterity will confirm; and that he will, on this occasion, uphold the character for integrity and frankness which is so pre-eminently his. We speak with certitude of his disinterested and upright feelings throughout; we only hope his delicacy towards others may not lead him too far towards the risk of his own popularity, or the sacrifice of what we designate once more the public property. If credit may be given to Captain Medwin, Lord Byron was most desirous for the posthumous printing of his Memoirs; and he seems, indeed, to have intrusted them to Mr Moore, as a safeguard against that very accident into which the high-wrought notions of delicacy of the trustee, and his deference to the relations and friends of the illustrions deceased, actually betrayed them. Lord Byron seems to have been aware of the prudery of his own immediate connexions; and in the way in which he bestowed the manuscript, to have consulted at once his generous disposition towards a friend, and his desire of security against mutilation or suppression. On this subject Captain Medwin's Journal makes him speak as follows:- ! I am sorry not to have a copy of my Memoirs to show you. I gave them to Moore, or rather to Moore's little boy.»' There is some trifling inaccuracy in this, as Moore's b « I remember saying, 'Here are two thousand pounds for you, my young friend.' I made one reservation in the gift-that they were not to be published till after my death." « I have not the least objection to their being circulated; in fact they have been read by some of mine, and several of Moore's friends and acquaintances; among others they were lent to Lady Burghersh. On returning the manuscript, her ladyship told Moore that she had transcribed the whole work. This was un peu fort, and he suggested the propriety of her destroying the copy. She did so, by putting it into the fire in his presence. Ever since this happened, Douglas Kinnaird has been recommending me to resume possession of the manuscript, thinking to frighten me by saying, that a spurious or a real copy, surreptitiously obtained, may go forth to the world. I am quite indifferent about the world knowing all that they contain. There are very few licentious adventures of my own, or scandalous anecdotes that will 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 this particular Lord Byron's fate has been singular; and a superstitious person might be startled at the coincidence of so many causes, all tending to hide his character from the public. That scandal and envy should have been at work with such a man is not very extraordinary; but the burning of his Memoirs, and the subsequent injunction on the publication of his Letters to his Mother, seem as if something more than mere chance had operated to preserve unconfuted the calumnies of the day, for the benefit of future biographers. Of these Letters a friend of ours was fortunate enough to obtain a glimpse, and never, he told us, was more innocent, and at the same time more valuable matter, so withheld from the world. It were, he observed, but an act of cold justice to the memory of Lord Byron to state, publicly, that they appear the reflections of as generous a mind as ever committed its expression to paper: for though, indeed, the traces of his temperament, and of his false position in society, are there, still the sentiments are lofty and enthusiastic; and every line betrays the warmest sympathy with human suffering, and a son was not with him in Italy. It is nevertheless true, as we are assured, that this was the turn which Lord Byron gave to his present, in order to make it more acceptable to his friend. scornful indignation against mean and disgraceful vice. The extempore song, addressed by Lord Byron to Mr Moore, on the latter's last visit to Italy, proves the familiar intercourse and friendship that subsisted between him and the subject of this memoir. The following stanzas are very expressive: Were't the last drop in the well, 'Tis to thee that I would drink. And a health to thee, Tom Moore! as the When Lord Byron had published his celebrated satire of « English Bards and Scotch Reviewers,» in which our poet, in common with most of his distinguished contemporaries was visited rather << too roughly» by the noble modern Juvenal, his lordship expected to be called out," fashionable phrase is; but no one had courage to try his prowess in the field, save Mr Moore, who did not relish the joke about «Little's leadless pistols," and sent a letter to his lordship in the nature of a challenge, but which he, by his leaving the country, did not receive. On Byron's return, Mr Moore made inquiry if he had received the epistle, and stated that, on account of certain changes in his circumstances, he wished to recal it, and become the friend of Byron, through Rogers, the author of The Pleasures of Memory,» and who was intimate with both the distinguished bards. The letter, addressed to the care of Mr Hanson, had been mislaid; search was made for it, and Byron, who at first did not like this offer, of one hand with a pistol, and the other to shake in fellowship, felt very awkward. On the letter being recovered, however, he delivered it unopened to Mr Moore, and they afterwards continued to the last most particular friends. It is but justice to the unquestionable courage and spirited conduct of the Bard of Erin, to observe here, that, though Byron had stated the truth about the said «leadless pistols, he had not stated the whole truth. The facts were these: Mr Jeffrey, the celebrated critic, and editor of the Edinburgh Review, had, in « good set phrase, abused the Poems of Thomas Little, Esq., alias Thomas Moore, Esq.; and the latter, not chusing to put up with the flagellation of the then modern Aristarchus, challenged him. When they arrived at Chalk Farm, the place fixed on for the duel, the police were ready, and deprived them of their fire-arms. On drawing their contents, the compound of « villanous saltpetre » was found, but the cold lead, The pious metal most in requisition On such occasions, but has amply acknowledged it in the elegant and glowing terms in which he has celebrated had somehow disappeared. The cause was this: its praises. No individual presides with more One of the balls had fallen out in the carriage, grace at the convivial board, nor is there one and the seconds, with a laudable anxiety to pre-whose absence is more liable to be regretted by serve the public peace, to save the shedding of such valuable blood, and to make both equal, drew the other ball. In his youth Mr Moore was in the high road to court favour, and had his spirit been less independent, we might even have had a Sir Thomas More in our days. It is said that when the juvenile Anacreon was introduced to the then Prince of Wales, His Royal Highness inquired of him whether he was a son of Dr Moore, the celebrated author of Zeluco; and that the bard promptly replied, No, Sir; I am the son of a grocer at Dublin!» The following anecdote shows that His Majesty King George the Fourth did not forget to pay off the Prince of Wales's « old score with our poet: -In the king's presence, a critic, speaking of the « Life of Sheridan, declared that Moore had murdered his friend. You are too severe," said his Majesty, I cannot admit that Mr Moore has murdered Sheridan, but he has certainly attempted his life." " his friends. Being on one occasion prevented from attending a banquet where he was an expected guest, and where, in consequence, every thing seemed (to use a familiar phrase) out of sorts, a gentleman, in the fervour of his disappointment, exclaimed, Give us but one Anacreon more, ye gods, whatever else you deny us. Presiding once at a tavern dinner, where some of the company were complaining that there was no game at the table, a gentleman present, alluding to the fascinating manners of Mr Moore, who kept the table in a roar,» said, Why, gentlemen, what better game would you wish than moor game, of which I am sure you have abundance?» At another time, after the pleasures of the evening had been extended to a pretty late hour, Mr D. proposed, as a concluding bumper, the health of Mr Moore; a toast which, having been twice drank in the course of the evening, was objected to as unnecessary. Mr D., however, For death may come with brow unpleasant, And grimly bid us-drink no More! Let It was not till after the Prince of Wales's in-persisted in giving the toast; and quoted in supvestment with regal power, that Mr Moore level- port of it the following passage from Mr Moore's led the keen shafts of his grey goose quill» translation of the eighth ode of Anacreon. against that illustrious personage. He had pre- us drink it now,» said he, viously dedicated the translation of Anacreon to His Royal Highness, by whom, it is said, his poetry was much admired. We question, though, if his verse was as palatable to the Prince Regent as it had been to the Prince of Wales. Mr Moore, perhaps, thought as one of his predecessors had done on this subject, of whom the following anecdote is recorded. Pope, dining one day with Frederic, Prince of Wales, paid the prince many compliments. «I wonder,» said His Royal Highness, that you, who are so severe on kings, should be so complaisant to me.» « It is, replied the witty bard, « because I like the lion before his claws are grown.. The name of Anacreon Moore, by which our author is distinguished, is not so much his due from the mere circumstance of his having translated the odes of the Teian bard, as from the social qualities which he is known to possess, and the convivial spirit of his muse. Mr Moore seems to be of opinion, that If with water you fill up your glasses, Which hurries a bard to the skies. He is not, however, ungrateful for whatever share conviviality may have had in inspiring his muse, We here terminate the Biographical part of our sketch; and, after a few introductory and general remarks, shall proceed to take a critical review of our author's principal works, including some interesting sketches and anecdotes of ancient minstrelsy, illustrative of the Irish Melodies.» Moore is not, like Wordsworth or Coleridge, the poet's poet; nor is it necessary, in order to enjoy his writings, that we should create a taste for them other than what we received from nature and education. Yet his style is contemned as tiusel and artificial, whereas the great praise bestowed on those preferred to it is, that they are the only true natural.--Now if it requires study and progressive taste to arrive at a sense of the natural, and but common feeling to enjoy the beauties of the artificial, then certainly these names have changed places since we met them in the dictionary. Formerly, people were content with estimating books-persons are the present objects universally. It is not the pleasure or utility a volume |