Chapter Fifteen Sets Forth Certain Explanations
Lord Brooking spoke truly when he declared that the dedication of Moore’s volume of poems accepted by the Prince would bring fame and prosperity to the young Irishman, who had toiled with such enthusiasm and unwavering diligence in paraphrasing and adapting the Odes of Anacreon. Arrayed and ornamented by his brilliant fancy, owing as much to their translator as to Anacreon himself, they were given to the world and received with such choruses of commendation from both the public and the critics that the reputation of Thomas Moore was firmly established by his first book. Society delighted itself by showing favor to the author it had hitherto neglected. Moore became a stranger to privation and occupied the best suite in the dwelling presided over by Mrs. Malone, who now was numbered in the ranks of his greatest admirers. In fact the old woman seemed to take a personal pride in the social success of her lodger, and followed with an enthusiasm worthy of a better cause his course in the upper world as traced by the papers in their reports of the diversions of the aristocracy. Moore remained quite unchanged by his sudden good fortune. Never even in his darkest hour had he doubted that he deserved success, and, now that it had come, he accepted it as his just earnings and valued it as nothing more, though jubilant that his merits had at last been recognized. His reception by the world of society was more than flattering. Where he was invited first because he was the poetic lion of the season he was asked again on account of his own charming personality. Moore the poet opened the door of the drawing-room for Moore the society man, who was forthwith made an honored and much-sought guest. He sang his own songs in a melting baritone that struck a responsive chord in the hearts of young and old alike. His ballads were the most popular of the day. Romantic swains and sentimental maidens warbled them on every possible occasion; but none equalled in feeling and grace the manner in which they were rendered by the hitherto unknown youth who had penned them. The grand dames were often rivals in their attempts to secure the poet’s presence at their musicales and receptions. The young bucks sought him as guest at their late suppers, while the publishers bid against one another for the privilege of printing his next book, as, in spite of his gadding about from function to function, Moore contrived to find time to continue his literary labors. Lord Moira, thanks to the glowing representations of his nephew, made much of the poet, and through his influence Moore became acquainted with certain of the great gentlemen of the time who had but few moments to waste on social amenities, and were therefore far more exclusive than the better-known figures in the gay world drawing its guiding inspiration from Carlton House. Though Moore did not lose his head as a result of the flattery and admiration now showered upon him, it would have been strange indeed if he had not secretly exulted over the triumph he had won. His almost juvenile delight was frankly acknowledged by him in the long and loving letters he wrote to the members of his own family, who in distant Dublin gloried in the London victory of the firstborn. It was no odd or unusual thing for the poet to be seen at three or four fashionable gatherings in one evening. His presentation to the Prince of Wales, whose condescension had made certain the success of the Odes, followed soon after the publication of the book, and prince and poet were equally charmed, each with the other. Moore seized upon this meeting as an opportunity to tender to his Highness the thanks previously conveyed for him by Lord Brooking. To his great delight, Wales graciously declared that he considered himself honored by the dedication of the volume, and expressed a hope that they might have the opportunity of enjoying each other’s society on many occasions in the near future. Moore came away that evening belonging wholly to the Regent, for, when that noble gentleman willed it so, no one could be more charming, and as his Highness was distinctly taken with the clever and modest young poet, he saw fit to be more than usually condescending and agreeable. He had chatted genially with Moore on literary topics of present interest, complimented him on the grace and rippling beauty of his translation of the Odes, and warmly applauded the young Irishman’s singing of several of his own ballads. Taking all things into consideration, Moore had every reason except one to be content with his present lot. That the single disturbing element in his existence was the misunderstanding with Bessie Dyke need scarcely be asserted. They met frequently in society, for, thanks to the influence of Sir Percival, the doors which Moore had pried apart by mighty effort with his pen, had opened in easy welcome to the beautiful young actress, who, though coldly pleasant in her demeanor, made no attempt to conceal her desire to avoid Moore when the opportunity offered. As he, hurt and hopeless, made but little effort to force his company upon her, they might have been comparative strangers for all the evidence of mutual interest they gave at the various social gatherings when they chanced to meet, so, though several months had elapsed since Moore emerged from obscurity, no progress had been made in his love affair.
Sir Percival Lovelace had contemplated his rival’s sudden rise to fame with interest, not unmixed with cynical amusement, his humorous sensibilities being rarely tickled at his own discomfiture, for this pleasant gentleman was philosopher enough to extract cause for merriment from his own disappointments and miscalculations. But the real reason for the toleration exhibited by the baronet was the confidence he felt that he had in his possession a weapon which, when he chose to wield it, would not fail to utterly destroy Moore in the estimation and good graces of the Regent, for Sir Percival felt certain that the loss of royal favor would result in the social ruin of his rival. As he thought he had ascertained by various means that there was comparatively little likelihood of the differences between Bessie and her lover being patched up, Sir Percival had held back the blow which he intended should completely demolish the prosperity of the poet, deciding to allow Moore to climb even higher on the ladder of fortune before knocking it from beneath his feet, that a greater fall might follow. But meanwhile the baronet had not been idle in other directions. Like many other gentlemen of the quill, Robin Dyke imagined that he was possessed of much ability in affairs of finance, and as numerous opportunities were ever at hand for indulgence in such hazards as are afforded by stock speculation to the unwary, he succeeded in quickly and secretly losing all the money he made over and above the funds necessary to maintain the modest little home tenanted by himself and daughter. After much mental debating he mentioned his indiscretion to his patron, who, scenting immediately a chance to secure a much-desired hold upon the foolish old gentleman, at his own suggestion loaned Dyke three hundred pounds, taking notes at ninety days’ sight in exchange for the sum, stipulating that the matter should be kept from Bessie. Dyke, naturally reluctant to admit the previous ill-success of his investments to his daughter, readily consented to accept this condition, and without more ado proceeded to send good money after bad by repeating his financial mistakes. This time he hesitated very little before acquainting Sir Percival with his lack of success, and found no difficulty in securing a further loan of another three hundred pounds, the investment of which resulted in even more brilliant disaster than before. Sanguine ever of ultimate success which should retrieve the losses already incurred, the worthy but foolish old rhymer increased his indebtedness to Sir Percival until he owed him in all one thousand pounds without Bessie having even a suspicion of the true state of affairs. Time passed and the notes matured, but Dyke, having no means of settling, frankly announced the fact to his patron and received reassuring smiles in return, a reply which fully contented him. The baronet affected to be quite indifferent as to the length of the period he might have to wait for his money, and told Dyke to take his own time in repaying him. This the old gentleman proceeded to do and thus made possible the events to be described in succeeding chapters.