The young poet espoused these principles with warmth and sympathy; and having been entered at Trinity College in 1795, supported his opinions with a lively eloquence, which, as matters stood, might have caused danger. He passed through the academic course with much credit, was distinguished for his classical acquirements, took part in the debates of the Historical Society, and was much admired for the wit and playfulness he exhibited among his associates. Having brought his collegiate studies to a termination, taken the degree of bachelor of arts, and won the character of a most pleasant companion, he proceeded to London in 1799, and had the happiness of being enrolled as a student of law at the Middle Temple.
Meantime he had been prompt to seize every means of improvement, and his innate talent for music had been cultivated with assiduity and effect; he had gained no inconsiderable amount of classical learning; and he had acquired some knowledge of the French and Italian languages. In the middle of the year following his arrival in England, the translation of Anacreon’s Odes, with which he had been engaged for some time, was published by subscription. This work had been contemplated by the eager and aspiring boy even in his school days, and it now appeared, with a dedication to the Prince of Wales, to whom the poet had already been presented. Its reception was most flattering; public favor was bestowed in abundance, and it elicited this complimentary impromptu—
“Ah, mourn not for Anacreon dead!
Ah, mourn not for Anacreon fled!
The lyre still breathes he touched before,
For we have one Anacreon Moore!”
The rhyming adventurer from the “Green Isle”—small in form but sprightly in mind—was introduced to fashionable circles, excited the curiosity and interest of royal personages, and charmed patrician assemblies with his vocal powers. He had, moreover, the distinction of dining twice at Carlton House with the Prince of Wales, and of being admitted to a grand fête given by his royal highness on becoming regent. At a subsequent period he was one of the same exalted individual’s keenest assailants and sharpest satirists.
In 1803, Moore, through the influence of his friend Lord Moira, to whom he had been introduced by a Dublin Mæcenas, obtained an official appointment at Bermuda, and went thither to undertake the duties attached to it. The novelty of the situation might, for a brief season, lend it some slight charm and attraction; but after a year’s trial of the island he considered it intolerable, as might have been anticipated in the case of one who had revelled in all the joys of poetic celebrity, and whose delightful singing had been rewarded in glittering halls with the dazzling and fascinating smiles of aristocratic beauty. He therefore resolved on fulfilling its functions, in future, by deputy; and after a flying visit to America, returned to England.
Moore, soon after this brief absence from the world of wit and fashion, published his “Odes and Epistles,” suggested by this rambling excursion. In these poems, as in the volume given to the world under the assumed name of “Thomas Little,” the glowing and irresistible imagination of the bard led him to commit what were very generally regarded as nothing less than most objectional offenses against delicacy and decorum. Accordingly he was attacked in the “Edinburgh Review,” with, as he conceived, so much and undeserved severity, that he thought himself called on to challenge Jeffrey, as the responsible editor, to mortal combat. In consequence, the poet and critic met at Chalk Farm to enjoy the doubtful luxury of being fired at by each other; but, fortunately, the interference of lurking police-officers stopped the matter in time to prevent mischief, otherwise it is not improbable—so great was their awkwardness—that it might have resulted in involuntary suicide; at all events, the seconds seem to have been in a position of no slight peril. If any thing could have added to the absurdity of the affair, it would have been the report, which asserted that the pistols, on examination, were found to contain paper pellets, substituted in place of leaden bullets. This proved to have been erroneous; but the whole transaction exposed the actors to much tantalizing but well-merited ridicule. “A fellow-feeling makes us wondrous kind,” and the parties principally implicated formed a close and lasting friendship.
Having already essayed dramatic composition, in a piece entitled the “Gipsy Prince,” Moore, in 1811, made a second attempt in an opera, “M.P., or the Blue Stocking,” which was produced at the Lyceum theatre with partial success. He was infinitely more fortunate in a matrimonial adventure, made about the same period; after which he removed from the metropolis, and chose a residence in Dorsetshire. Then appeared the “Twopenny Post-bag,” a political effusion, in which several eminent persons, holding opinions at variance with those of the author’s patrons, were lashed with sparkling wit, sharp sarcasm, and humorous pleasantry: but he was not unoccupied with projects more worthy of his fine taste and beaming fancy. He now came forth with his “Irish Melodies,” which are replete with real feeling and true delicacy, and fully entitle him to be rewarded, as he desired, with the proud title of “the Poet of the Irish people.” They are the happiest emanations of his gay and fanciful muse. Among song-writers he is almost unrivaled. No matter what may be the theme—playful or pathetic, light or impassioned, his verse flows onward like a “shining river” with graceful fluency; and his cadences tell how exquisitely the ear was tuned to the expression of the sentiment, which had its origin in the mind. It is as the producer of lyrics for the ancient music of his country that he gave proof of his peculiar and felicitous combination of power, and achieved so wide a reputation. He poured out these verses with unexampled readiness and fertility. In some he appeared not only as poet, but musical composer also; and his delicious words and graceful music thrilled and captivated the public ear and heart. His popularity had now risen high, but it soon appeared that his name had not yet gathered all the fame which was to enrich it, when, in 1817, “Lalla Rookh” made its appearance. This Oriental romance, rich, brilliant, and gorgeous, was his most elaborate poem. It had been produced in frost and snow, yet his potent imagination had conjured before him the sunniest of Eastern scenes, with all their splendor and magnificence; and, what was a most important part of the business, the manuscript is said to have brought him three thousand guineas. When presented to the public, it was found to unite the purest and softest tenderness with poetic fervor and lofty dignity. Its effect was immediate and extensive; it was received with eager enthusiasm; and the readers showed their appreciation by committing large portions to memory. No doubt the English public were, at the time, athirst for verse; but even under such circumstances nothing but high merit, taste, fancy, feeling, and delicacy, could have ensured such rapturous approval, and wrought such enchantment as Moore’s poem, rich with imagery and ornament, now did, though on a subject by no means calculated to interest the bulk of the community.
His next work, “The Fudge Family in Paris,” saw the light in 1818, and was one of those brilliant trifles in which its author was considered to be altogether unrivaled in his day and generation. It arose from a passing visit made by the poet to the Continent, and ran through successive editions. He afterward reproduced the actors in “The Fudge Family in England;” but with a felicity and success utterly unequal to the original effort.
Moore had now, as a poet, achieved splendid triumphs, and excited immense admiration.
“Crowned with perennial flowers,
By wit and genius wove,
He wandered through the bowers
Of fancy and of love;”