One result of the success attending Bertram was—the play being produced anonymously—that several individuals began to make claims for the authorship. This circumstance contributed to Maturin’s determination to emerge from his anonymity and publicly take his place among the men of letters of his day. With regard to any further professional preferment this was definitely to burn his boats: a clergyman of the established church the writer of a play whose morality was generally pronounced to be an abomination. On the other hand the dream of his life now seemed realized, and the way open to the circles to which he felt himself to belong. He took the step; and, in order to make the most of it, accepted an invitation from London to come over to witness the triumph of his production. This was the only journey of any length ever undertaken by Maturin; if not very adventurous, it still was something of an enterprise at that time, when a crossing between Dublin and Liverpool could take up to 36 hours. Maturin’s stay in London did not exceed a month. He arrived there in the latter part of May, and the 22:nd of June he wrote, from home, his first letter to Murray, in acknowledgment of the kindness shown him by the publisher. In the New Monthly Magazine 1827 we read that Maturin was, while in the metropolis, ‘suddenly elevated to the most dizzy and flattering distinction,’ being ‘caressed by the first men of the day, recognized by the audience during the performance of his play, and received with acclamations.’ The language, however, in Maturin’s own letters referring to his reception is very different, and suggestive rather of a disappointment. Even in his first letter, when sending his respects to Mrs. Murray, he assures his correspondent that ‘to your friendly and hospitable attention I am indebted for the only pleasant hours passed during my sojourn in London.’ In another letter, from July 6:th, he returns to the theme with marked bitterness:
I should be particularly obliged by your letting me know at your leisure, and as a friend (in which light I shall always consider, and feel my obligations to you) whether the impression I made in London was favourable or otherwise, or, whether I made any impression at all. My reason for urging this strange question is, the marked coldness of my reception at every house but yours and Lord Essex’s, and the singular circumstance of my never being invited to Mr. Lamb’s. I am aware that long struggle with distress and difficulty will not only cloud the mind, but degrade the manners of the sufferer, but still I cannot but think that my habits and conduct could not justify my exclusion from the line of society to which I was born, and in which till latterly I have always lived.
When you have time to write, tell me if my apprehensions are true, and if I was really though unfit for the company of men who invited me over and on whose hospitality and courtesy I had therefore some claim during my very short stay.
In spite of a soothing answer from Murray, the idea that he had not appeared to advantage continued to haunt Maturin. It ought to be mentioned, however, that in the letter quoted above there is an allusion to a member of the fair sex upon whom the impression made by the Irish guest seems to have been even more favourable than he could have wished—yet at the same time something to gratify the vanity of which he had, perhaps a little more than the usual allotment:
I have received a letter from—since my return to Ireland. I really would be glad of your advice in this unpleasant business. I dread her resentment if provoked, and I am determined not to answer her letters. I wish it could be intimated to her that I was in the country and never received her Epistle—you know what Congreve says of “woman spurned.”—
Bertram was the first of Maturin’s works that appeared with his name. It was published by Murray, and ran through seven editions in the course of 1816; the current price of 3 sh. for a new play was on this occasion raised to 4 sh. 6 d.[88] Together with the profits of the performance, the sum cleared by Maturin for his tragedy is said to have amounted to £ 1000. The consequences, however, of the unhappy transaction in which he had been involved some years before, disagreeably asserted themselves at this piece of good luck, and he speaks of his affairs in a pessimistic tone. In a letter to Murray dated August 19:th he says:
There is not a shilling I have made by Bertram that has not been expended to pay the debts of a scoundrel for whom I had the misfortune to go security, so here I am with scarce a pound in my pocket, simpering at congratulations on having made my fortune.
Yet, if Maturin had not made his fortune by his first tragedy, he probably intended to make it by his second, for he took no pains to undeceive his congratulators. He was, by all accounts, somewhat dazzled by the bright prospects he imagined to be dawning for him, when he returned to Dublin as the greatest of its literary celebrities, and he changed his mode of living accordingly. He was, as appears from his letters to Murray, under the impression of being born to a line of society embellished by elegance and refinement, and his recollections of the easy circumstances in which he had grown up had not vanished amid the privations of later life. After his arrival from London Maturin plunged into the delights of society and became a conspicuous figure in saloons and assemblies; and his unpretending house in York Street was re-furnished and decorated with a splendour of which a friend of his who, however, admits that he did not see Maturin’s home until a later period, when the whole show had disappeared, gives the following account:[89]
The walls of the parlours were done in panels, with scenes from his novels, painted by an artist of some eminence; the richest carpets, ottomans, lustres, and marble tables ornamented the withdrawing-rooms; the most beautiful papers covered the walls, and the ceilings were painted to represent clouds, with eagles in the centre, from whose claws depended brilliant lustres.
In this abode—whether it exactly answered to the above description or not—was then received what Dublin society had to offer not only in the way of intellect, but preferably of youth and beauty. What it was that attracted Maturin in his social intercourse is vividly described by his biographer:[90]