costing him a world of pains, and not a few disagreeable and tiresome researches. Embarrassing doubts as to the colouring proper to be given to certain passages, and honest disgust at the generally discreditable cast of the character he had to pourtray, were frequently present with the biographer, who obviously felt his task oppressive. Here is an entry of Sept., 1818" In the garden all day-delicious weather— at my Sheridan task from ten till three . . . I often wish Sheridan, Miss Linley, and Matthews at the devil. This would have been a day for poetry, and yet thus have I lost all this most poetical summer." (Vol. ii. p. 173.)

Another entry at this period is worth quoting, as an example of Moore's power of giving himself up to present feeling, regardless of harassing contingencies: -"One day so like another, that there is little by which to distinguish their features; and these are the happiest; true cottage days, tranquil and industrious. Pursued task all day in the garden," &c.

my

The amusing jeu d'esprit which his trip to Paris gave rise to, The Fudge Family, and which had considerable vogue, furnished a welcome addition to "the supplies." By way of keeping them up, too, he excogitated another piquant, though not perhaps very felicitous satire, Tom Cribb's Memorial, of which Moore himself felt not, we suspect, particularly proud. There is in the Diary the following sentence:"Went on with the slang epistle. It seems profanation to write such buffoonery in the midst of this glorious sunshine; but, alas! money must be had; and these trifles bring it soonest and easiest." (Vol. ii. p. 218.)

The Bermuda matter wearing a serious aspect towards the middle of the following year (1819), Moore judged it prudent to take steps for avoiding legal pursuit. He had some idea of betaking himself to Holyrood House, in expectation of which Sir James Mackintosh writes to him thus:-" You will find in Edinburgh as many friends and admirers as even you could find anywhere." But the prospect of going to the Continent, in company with his friend Lord John Russell, came between, and decided him upon passing a few months abroad; the rather as Lord and Lady Lansdowne were contemplating an excursion to Paris, and Moore expected to meet them in that city.

All this came duly to pass: moreover, Lord John and Moore travelled on together across the Alps, as far as Milan, where the friends took leave of each other, not without regret. Moore, full of curiosity to see more of Italy, sets off alone, in a crazy vehicle bought at Milan for the journey, and first wends his way, by Brescia, Padua, &c., to the spot where Lord Byron, who had recently achieved his most striking exploit in the paths of gallantry, was at this time residing near Fusina. To our thinking, this journal of Moore's Italian tour affords the most interesting matter of any in the volumes. We hardly call to mind any autobiography which more entirely reflects the thoughts, feelings, and foibles of the writer, so that one seems to follow him about, with a thoroughly familiar companionship, owing to the rare fidelity and candour with which he records both his proceedings and reflections.

What, indeed, can be more life-like than the details of the few days he spent at Venice, comprehending

many hours passed in the company of Lord Byron? We here see these two creative geniuses en déshabille, and are enabled to add one more to the evidences we already possess, how completely the imaginative faculty can be cast aside, and the gross reality of human nature suffered to predominate, in the persons of great poets; as, indeed, with great orators, painters, great musical composers, and the like. It would seem that splendid gifts are frequently associated with a lively appetite and capacity for enjoyment, and that the whole Being, ardently constituted in every respect, must expend its various forces in turn, in order to maintain its balance of powers.*

The noble Bard at least was aroused from all his sentimental musings by the arrival of "Anacreon"; and this to so great a degree as to destroy all the pleasure of the latter in approaching Venice: Lord Byron's rattling ludicrous talk utterly putting to flight the whole illusion and poetic charm of Moore's first gondola voyage. (Vol. iii. p. 24.)

Five days of delightful racketing ensued: Lord Byron, although he could not quit the young "contessa" with whom he had but just set up house at La Mira, insisted on Moore's taking up his quarters at his palazzo in Venice, coming in occasionally himself to enjoy his friend's company. They dine together at the "Pellegrino" more than once, go to the theatre, and afterwards adjourn to a sort of public-house, "to drink hot punch; forming a strange contrast to a dirty cobbler, whom we saw in a nice room delicately

* The names of Raphael, Michael Angelo, Benvenuto Cellini, Alfieri, Sheridan, Mozart, Charles James Fox, Rossini, Mirabeau, Porson, Burns, &c., may in some sort serve to sustain this hypothesis.

eating ice. Lord B. took me home in his gondola at two o'clock: a beautiful moonlight, and the stillness and grandeur of the whole scene, gave a nobler idea of Venice than I had yet had." (Vol. iii. p. 28.)

The two poets were not alone on these occasions, for another Englishman, named Scott, whom Lord Byron had requested to accompany Moore about Venice, usually formed one of their party. By a whimsical caprice of fate, this fortunate individual afterwards became transformed into a Northumbrian parson, and, to the best of our belief, still lives on his hill top; talking ever and anon of these Venetian orgies as of passages in a former state of exist

ence.

On leaving Venice, Moore travelled, viâ Bologna, to Florence, where he worked hard at sight-seeing; but, as everywhere else, diversifying those duties by theatres and society. Lady Morgan at this period was in the ascendant; and through her and Lady Burghersh, Moore met all who were worth seeing in Florence. His susceptibility to sublime emotions is thus unaffectedly manifested after a visit to the church of the Annunziata:-"Whether it be my Popish blood or my poetical feelings, nothing gives me more delight than the 'pomp and circumstance' of a mass in so grand a church; accompanied by fine music, and surrounded by such statuary and such paintings, it is a most elevating spectacle.'

And now the traveller reaches Rome, the everlonged-for goal of all sentimental pilgrims. Here Lady Davy, who, with the Duchess of Devonshire, appears to have shared the privilege of "lionizing " distinguished English visitors about the Eternal City,

"undertakes" Moore, whilst Mr. Canning falls to the care of her Grace.

Nothing can be more fresh and entertaining than the record of his stay in Rome. The mingled naïveté and instinctive good taste with which he notes his impressions, coupled with his frank disavowal of all pretensions to knowledge in the domain of high art, remind us of the journal of John Bell, the distinguished anatomist of Edinburgh, who brought to the subject something of the same healthy, masculine judgment, unassisted by much previous study. But we must deny ourselves the pleasure of giving extracts from these lively entries, and hasten to get the poet out of Italy again, or we shall have to omit subsequent matters essential to our sketch.

He makes a brief halt at Florence, where he is forced to consent to sit to Bartolini for his bust, partly at the instance of Chantrey, who wants to make one also, and to "let Moore see the difference." Whilst here, Lady Burghersh communicated to him some particulars respecting the Empress Maria Louisa, with whom she had frequent opportunities of intercourse, passing some time with her at her Principality. Maria Louisa, it seems, "loved Napoleon at first; but his rébutant manner to her disgusted her at last. Treated her like a mere child; her regency a mere sham; did not know what the papers were she had to sign; never had either message or line from Napoleon after his first abdication, nor until his return from Elba; never hears from him at St. Helena," &c. (Vol. iii. p. 79.)

Moore arrives once more in Paris about the close of the year (1820); and, after a month or two, spent en