The Middlebury register. [volume] (Middlebury, Vt.) 1850-1882, 1859-12-14

ne l have never found in anything
outside OF the four walls of my study any
enjoyment equal to sitting at my writing
desk, with a clean page, a new theme and
II mine awake.
dis literary empioymcnts, he remarked
had always been more like entertainments
than tasks.
"Some WRITER'S" said he appear to
have been Independent OF moods. Sir
Walter Scott. for instance had great DOW
er OF writing and coul work almost At
an7 time; so could Crnbhe but with
th'* difference Scott always and Crabbe
seldom wrote well. remember, said he.
taking breakfast one morning with Rogers
Moore, and Crabbe the conversation
turned On Lord tyron's poetic moods
Crabhe said that, as for himself he could
write as well one time as at another.
But" said Irving, with twinkle of
humor at recalling the incident, " Crab5e
has written Il great deal that nobody can
read"
he mentioned that while living il Par
is be went long period without being
able to write
sat down repeai iedly," said he, with
pen and ink, but could invent n thing
worth putting on the paper. At length
| told my friend Tom Moore, who drop.
ped in one morning, that now, after long
waiting, had the mood, and would hold
it, and work it out as long as it would last
until had wrung my brain dry. So I
began to write shortly after breakfast,
and continued, without noticing how the
time was passing, until Moore came in at
four in the atternoon-when | had COM
pletey covered the table with freshly
written sheets-I kept the mood almost
without interruption for six weeks"
asked which of his books was the re-
suit of this frenzy; be replied " Brace
bridge Hall"
None of your works." remarked
"are more charming than the Biography
of Goldsmith"
Yet that was written" said he' " even
more rapidly than the other" He then
added:
" hen have been engaged on a con.
tinuous work, / have often been obliged
to rise in the middle Of the night, light
my lamp and write an hour or two, to
relieve my mind l. and now that write
no more, | am sometimes compelled to
get up in the same way to read"
Sometimes, also, as the last Idlewild
letters mentioned, he gets up to shave!
When was in SPAIN" he remarked,
searching the old chronicles, and engaged
on the life of Columbus, | often wrote
fourteen or fifteen hours out of thetwenty
four"
He said that whenever he had forced
his mind unwillingly to work, the product
was worthless, and he invariably threw it
away and began again " for" as he OBJ
served, "an essay or chapter that has
been only hammered out, is seldom good
for anything. An authors right time to
work is when his mind is aglow; when
his imagination is kindled these are his
precious moments; let him wait until
they come, but when they have come, let
MN lldhC luC uIOsl VI luCn.,
referred to his last and greatest work
the Life of Washington, d d asked if he
felt on finishing it. any such sensation as
Gibbon is said to have experienced over
the last shee, OF the Decline and Fall.
He replied that the whole work had en-
crossed his mind to such a degree that, be-
fore he was aware, he had written himself
into febleness Of health that he feared
in the midst of his labar that it would
break him down before he could end it:
that when at last the final pages were
written he gave the manuscript to his
nephew to be conducted through the
press, and threw himself back upon his
red'cushioned lounge with an indescribable
fee ing Of relief! He added that the
great fatigue Of mind throughout tho
whole task had resulted from the care
and pains required in the construction
and arrangement OF materials, and not in
the mere literary composition Of the suo-
cessiye chapters.
Bu; what magnificent volumes What
a work for an old man to have achieved !
What fitting close TO the labors of long
and busy life They unite on one page
and will perpetuate in one memory, not
only great n9me, but its great namesake;
the Father Of the American Republic and
the Father Of the American Republic of
Letters
On the parlor wall hung the engraving
Of Faed's picture of Scott and his Co.
temporaries." l alluded to it as present
ing group of his former friends.
Yes said he, " l knew every man of
them but three aud now they are all
gone"
"Are the portraits good ?" inquired.
SCOTS head" he replied, A" is well
drawn, though the expression lacks some,
thing of Scott's force; Campbell's is tol.
cradle; Loc'Shart's is the worst. Lock
hart,' said he, was a man Of very delicate
organization, but he had more manly
look than in the picture.
"You should write one more book" l
hinted.
What is that?"
Your "reminiscences OF those literary
friends"
"Ah," he exclaimed, "it is too late
now! shall never take tho pen again;
have so entirely given up writing that
even my best friends letters lie unan-
swered | must have rest. No more
books now !"
10 raEarnd IN tho vis;t q ueak hafore