her mother! But I must be off! If I stay here a minute longer I shall break out in spite of you. To-morrow, without fail, Roper!"

"Without fail," the steward emphatically replied.

And without waiting to say good night to the Vicar, or to any one else, the Squire rushed out of the house, followed by Paul Flitwick, and more leisurely by the reverend gentleman himself, upon whom the punch had made considerable impression.

A few words then passed between Roper and the young gamekeeper and his wife. On learning that the Squire desired to see them at Monkbury on the following day, Frank readily agreed to go there; but though Rose offered no remonstrance, a deep flush overspread her features, quickly succeeded by perfect paleness. Her emotion did not escape the notice of the steward, who endeavoured to re-assure her by a look; though it passed unobserved by her husband, as he had turned at the moment to take leave of Nelly. This point achieved, Mr. Roper went his way.

Soon afterwards, the pair took their departure; Jonas and Nelly attending them to the door, with many professions of regard. As may be supposed, they had much to talk of on the way home, and scarcely noticed the gambols of Dragon by their side.

Ere half an hour more had elapsed, all the inmates of the Old Inn were buried in repose.

All except one. And we know how He passed the night.

THOMAS MOORE'S DIARY.*

Moore starts

THIS "Diary" increases in interest as it progresses. for Italy in company with Lord John Russell, whom he found to be "mild and sensible; and took off Talma well." We have also the impressions of the other party in an indirect way. Lord John told Moore that the Duchess of Bedford, in whose company they crossed the Channel, said, on starting for the Rhine, that she "wished they had some one with them like Mr. Moore, to be agreeable when they got to their inn in the evening!"

At Paris, bought for forty francs the complete edition of his works, in six volumes. "Cruel kindness this, to rake up all the rubbish I have ever written in my life-good, bad, and indifferent; it makes me ill to look at it." Dined at St. Cloud with a large and fashionable party, but went to sup at the Café Hardy on a salade de volaille, "having got but little to eat at St. Cloud." Writes a great deal about his " darling Betsy," but is not the less attentive to "a pretty little girl, Miss Herbert," for whom he sings, copies music, and whom he attends to the Opera. Apropos of the Opera, Moore says, "Few things set my imagination on the wing so much as these spectacles at the Opera."

At Geneva, one Dumont informed them that the standing army of Geneva was 350 men, and that he had proved in the assembly that it was, in proportion, the largest army in Europe, except that of Russia : this, says Moore, is excellent. A M. Cramer made a calculation of the space that the animals and the food requisite for them took up in Noah's

* Memoirs, Journal, and Correspondence of Thomas Moore. Edited by the Right Honourable Lord John Russell, M.P. Vols. III. and IV. Longman, Brown, Green, and Longmans.

Ark, and found out that there was more room than they wanted. General Cumming declared the government of Geneva to be the most arbitrary in Europe; a sentinel ran with fixed bayonet at the driver of his char-à-banc for daring to trot past the town-hall. Another wise Englishman, standing by, said, "If you knocked a man down here you would be imprisoned for three days, and seemed to think it a very hard

case.

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Passing the Simplon had the same effect as the first view of Mont Blanc-only in this case it was the Jungfrau. "I alternately shuddered and shed tears as I looked at it," says Moore, and his biographer alludes in his preface to this exquisite sensibility to the beauties and the sublimities of nature's works. The grotto, however, at Villa Tansi, was like all other grottos, as Dr. Johnson says, "fit for a toad."

Moore bought a crazy little calèche at Milan and parted from Lord John, with the horror of banditti in prospective, but soon found that hotel-keepers, waiters, and "cursed fabros," were the real ladri-the others mere Opera heroes. At Brescia, "called at five, but thought it was raining a deluge, and went to sleep again; found afterwards it was only a fountain in the yard; beautiful morning!"

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 frolicsome gaiety. He insisted upon my making use of his house at Venice while I stay, but could not himself leave the Guiccioli. He dressed, 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 despatched 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 stopped to dine with me. Had much curious conversation with him about his wife before Scott arrived. He has written his memoirs, and is continuing them; thinks of going and purchasing lands under the Patriotic Government in South America. Much talk about Don Juan; he is writing a third canto; the Duke of Wellington; his taking so much money; gives instances of disinterested men, Epaminondas, &c., &c., down to Pitt himself, who,

As minister of state, is

Renown'd for ruining Great Britain gratis.

"Forgot to mention," Moore adds, afterwards, "that Byron introduced me to his countess before we left La Mira: she is a blonde and young; married only about a year, but not very pretty." When he saw the countess again, on his return from Venice, she looked prettier, he says, than she did the first time. The Guiccioli's husband was, he says, a fine

specimen of an Italian husband. He wanted Lord B. to lend him 10007. at five per cent.; that is, give it, though he talks of giving security; and says, in any other way it would be an avvilimento to him! It is

not likely, however, that he got such golden consolations, for Scott told Moore that Lord B. kept a box, into which he occasionally put sequins; that he had collected about 300, and his great delight was to open the box and contemplate his store.

As to the city of the Adriatic, "the disenchantment," he exclaims, "one meets with at Venice-the Rialto so mean--the canals so stinking! -the piazzetta of St. Mark, with its extraordinary ducal palace and the fantastical church, and the gaudy clock opposite," are described as altogether making a most barbaric appearance. It was better at night. "Lord B. took me home in his gondola at two o'clock; a beautiful moonlight, and the reflection of the palaces in the water, and the stillness and grandeur of the whole scene (deprived as it was of its deformities by the dimness of the light), gave a nobler idea of Venice than I had yet had."

At Covigliaio, Moore writes:

Among my epistles from Italy must be one on the exaggeration of travellers, and the false colouring given both by them and by drawings to the places they describe and represent. Another upon painting; the cant of connoisseurs; the contempt artists have for them. To a real lover of nature the sight of a pretty woman, or a fine prospect, beyond the best painted pictures of them in the world. Give, however, the due admiration to the chefs d'œuvre of art, of Guido, Titian, Guercino, &c. Mention the tiresome sameness of the subjects on which the great masters employed themselves; how refreshing a bit of paganism is after their eternal Madonnas, St. Francises, &c.: Magdalen my favourite saint. Introduce in a note the discussions about the three Marys. Another epistle must touch upon the difference between the Italian women and the German in love: more of physique in the feelings of the former; the Italian would kill herself for a living lover, whom she would forget if he died; the German would pine away for a dead one. The senses of the latter are reached through her imagination (as is the case very much with the English woman), but the imagination of the Italian woman is kindled through her senses, &c., &c.

At Florence, Moore was fêted by the Burghershes, the Dillons, the Morgans, and others. We like one bit of natural criticism: "Was much disappointed by the Fornarina, which has coarse skin, coarse features, and coarse expression."

From Florence to Rome with Colonel Camac, Princess Chigi, and an escort of dragoons part of the way. The old princess said "she knew of my fame, &c., &c.; but this is all nonsense." At Rome, the Duchess of Devonshire and Lady Davy were rival cicerones, but as the duchess had "undertaken" Canning, Moore fell to the philosopher's lady. What was of more value to him, he got the company also of Chantrey, Sir Thomas Lawrence, Turner, Jackson, and other distinguished artists. Canova and Thorwaldsen, were also at Rome at that time. Eastlake is spoken of at that time as "an artist, studying in Rome." Among others, also" In the evening went to the Princess Borghese's, a fine creature in her way; delighted to find I knew her friends, Ladies Jersey, Holland, and Lansdowne. Showed her beautiful little hands, which I had the honour of kissing twice; and let me feel her foot, which is matchless!" Canova was still more favoured, witness his Venere Vincitrice. Moore's diary has at times a faint resemblance to that of the immortal Pepys, the Admiralty secretary, tuned down to modern taste. For example: "Went in the evening to the Duchess of Devonshire's.

Mrs. Dodwell looking beautiful; her husband used to be a great favourite with the Pope, who always called him 'Caro Doodle.' His first addresses were paid to Vittoria Odescalchi, but he jilted her; and she had six masses said to enable her soul to get over its love for him."

he

We may fairly be allowed to pass over the account of all the palaces, chiesas, piazzas, portas, galleries, campaniles, chapels, baptisteries, villas, temples, arches, and tombs; all the statues, fountains, and frescoes; all the Laocoons, Apollos, Antinouses, Andromedas, Cupids and Psyches; all the Madonnas, virgins, angels, and saints; all the Raphaels, Titians, Michael Angelos, Rembrandts, and other great masters, that the poet's eye gloated on, and the poet's pen describes. We must keep, amid such redundant matter, to what is new or characteristic. Passing a church, for example, on his way to the Corso, the altar of which was most splendidly illuminated, the doors wide open, and people kneeling in the street, says: "If there had been but a burst of music from it, the glory of the spectacle would have been perfect. Music issuing out of light is as good an idea as we can have of heaven." Again, on a visit to Tivoli: "Nature never disappoints; the humbug is always found in the arts, literature, ruins, &c., &c. The little streamilets that issue from the well by quiet ways of their own, and join the tumult afterwards, a fine illustration of something-I don't know what."" It is strange enough," he says of Canova (if the world did not abound in such anomalies)," that Canova values himself more on some wretched daubs he has perpetrated in painting than on his best sculpture." At Terni, again: "The rainbow over the fall, like the providence of God watching over a stormy world." The poet is far more at home with nature than art, far more susceptible of nature's beauties, although by no means insensible to the wonders and perfection of art; but, still, in the one case admiration is natural, in the other far too maniféstly elaborated criticism. This, notwithstanding that Lucchesini called him uno dei pilastri delle arte. Very different are some of the recorded criticisms of his friends distinguished in art. For example, Chantrey on the Duomo of Florence: "The great object of architecture is to produce, by its different forms and projections, different pleasing effects of light and shadows; but an almost flat surface like that of the Duomo, which substitutes variety of light and shadow, is so far from being in good taste, that, at the best, it can only be considered a large and beautiful toy."

66

On Moore's return to Florence, the society there had received an accession in the person of Lady Charlemont. Lady Mansfield told me that the effect she produces here with her beauty is wonderful; last night, at the Comtesse d'Albany's, the Italians were ready to fall down and worship her." Even the essentially artistic Italians can be more struck by nature than by art. Lady Burghersh was intimate with Maria Louisa. Said she loved Napoleon at first, but his rebutant manner to her disgusted her at last. Treated her like a child. Never had either message or line from Napoleon after his first abdication, nor until his return from Elba, when he wrote a short note, and, without beginning "Madame," or "Chère," or anything, he said he expected her and the child at Paris immediately. Never hears from him at St. Helena. (This was in 1819.) Keeps his picture secretly, and seems to be proud of the child's likeness to him. She is very romantic.

At Parma, calling for a bottle of Champagne, which he had lost as a wager, Moore told the waiter. "C'è un scomesso ch'io perduto. Perduto! he exclaimed, Ah, per bacco!"

This beats Bob Acres' oath for appropriateness." On his return to Paris, Moore found letters from the Longmans, stating that the Bermuda business had not been arranged yet, and he had better prolong his stay in France. This was a sad disappointment. His dear cottage and his books! So he took lodgingsa fairy suite of apartments, he calls them-an entresol in the Rue Chantereine, and sent for his wife and family, whom he went to escort from Calais.

On his way discussed American literature with two French ladies. Argued that what prevented the Americans exerting themselves was their having the work already done to their hands in the literature of the mother country; "and that, in fact, to be langue epuisée (it should be une langue epuisée). 'Comment,' she answered, une langue epuisée, when there are such poets as Byron and Scott alive?' The silence about me I bore very philosophically; found afterwards she had heard much of my name, but never read me.' Another disappointment soon followed. A French bonnet was procured for Mrs. Moore the moment of her arrival in Paris; and with this they proceeded together to the Marionettes, "where, notwithstanding her bonnet, somebody cried out, Voila une dame Anglaise !" This was not all; he had to go to the Couturière. "Rather hard upon me," he says, "to be the interpreter on these occasions." And then, in return for all these self-sacrifices, Lady E. Fielding said to him, "Every one speaks of your conjugal attention, and I assure you all Paris is disgusted with it."

It is curious to read what authors are sometimes charged with. At this time there were monsters in Paris, known as piqueurs, who stabbed women; and the practice was attributed in fashionable circles to the study of Lord Byron's works, and the principles inculcated by him. Similar absurd charges have been made in our time, or it would be impossible to imagine anything so ridiculous.

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At this time Moore got into a cottage"-his worldly ambition-in the Champs Elysées, and set to work at his "Fudge Family," at the rate of thirty lines a day. He appears to have read a great deal for a work apparently so light-especially in art. The murder of the Duc de Berri took place shortly afterwards. A lady who went to see the body at the Louvre, said, "Voila la seconde exposition au Louvre de l'industrie de M. de Caze."

Went with Madame de Flahault to the Opera. When they were leaving the theatre, the Duchesse de Raguse came over to whisper to her, and asked whether it was Monsieur Walter Scott she had by the arm. Upon Madame de F.'s saying "No, it was Mr. Moore," the duchesse replied, "Ah! c'est la même chose, c'est Lalla Rookh' que j'adore." Another time, discussing English literature at the Duc de Broglie's, a Frenchman present mentioning those of Lord Byron's works he liked the best, he said the "Corsair" and "Lalla Rookh."

Received a letter, at last, from Lord Byron, through Murray, telling me he had informed Lady B. of his having given me his memoirs for the purpose of their being published after his death, and offering the perusal of them in case she might wish to confute any of his statements. Her note in answer to this offer (the original of which he inclosed me) is as follows: