Part 12

“Though he was full of energy in anything he took up,” says Mr Pearce, “he was sometimes very indolently inclined. Often and often I used to try to tempt him to dictate. Sometimes I succeeded, and at other times he would vote it a bore.... I have known him to be so dissatisfied with his morning’s or evening’s work that he destroyed it. At other times his flashing and brilliant thoughts carried him on for a great length of time, pacing the room excitedly, while his delivery of words was so rapid that it was impossible to keep pace with them.... But he never allowed too slow absorption on paper of his thick-coming fancies, rapidly dictated, to elicit an exclamation of impatience. He was always genial, gentle, good-humoured; and at times as playful as a child.”

Life at Templeogue during the days of Mr Pearce’s sojourn was singularly peaceful. The only “outbreaks” were occasional dinner-parties,--generally assemblages of brilliant men; and when the more staid amongst the guests had left for the city, it was Lever’s custom to wind up the night with whist. The host was always overflowing with good stories: frequently his guests forgot that time was running away, and were startled by observing the daylight peeping in through the chinks of the window-shutters. Mr Pearce relates one of these card-table anecdotes.

“When the 11th Hussars arrived in Dublin, their notoriety made them a great attraction, owing to the Earl of Cardigan being their colonel, and the numerous duels and quarrels that had occurred in the regiment. One of their officers, after a _levée_, was walking along Sackville Street, on a sunny afternoon, in full dress, and was met by two Irishmen fresh from the country. Staggered at the glittering and gorgeous apparition clanking towards them, they riveted their eyes on the blazing gold, blue, and crimson figure, and, with a wondering gaze, the one exclaimed to the other, with a sharp nudge in the ribs and a look of exquisite fun--‘Begorra, wouldn’t I like to have the chance of pawning him!’”

Lever could hardly avoid falling into traps such as he would set for his own characters. One of these accidents has its amusing and its pleasant side. He wished to get some contributions for the Magazine from the Rev. Edward Johnson, and in writing to him he not only asked him for contributions, but he invited him to pay a visit to Templeogue. He addressed this letter to G. P. R. James, and James answered to the call. Lever saw no way out of the difficulty except to arrange with the prodigious romancist* for a serial story.

Major Dwyer recalls another dinner-party at Templeogue,** the guests being himself, G. P. R James, Captain Siborne, and Dr Anster. James took the lead in the conversation, discussing, with an air of authority, horsemanship and military tactics. He entangled his host in the equestrian discussion, and Lever proved to be more than a match for him, for he had a genuine knowledge of horses, and though he was not a correct or a graceful rider,*** he knew all the points of a horse, and could, according to Major Dwyer, “knock as much out of the veriest screw” as any man he had ever known. The author of a hundred and eighty-nine volumes was not a bad judge of horseflesh, but his ideas of warfare were developed from his inner consciousness, and Dwyer recognised some of the military theories which James had expounded at Lever’s dinner-table in a novel entitled ‘Arrah Neil’ (which ran through ‘The Dublin University’ in 1844--doubtless the serial which was commissioned in order to cover a blunder), “where a highly scientific imaginary battle is fought in a corner of a field leading to a ford.”

* G. P. R James is said to have been the author of one hundred and eighby-nine volumes. He was “Historiographer to Great Britain” daring the reign of William IV. Subsequently he entered the consular service. He was at Garlsruhe in 1846 when Lever was visiting the Grand Duchy of Baden, and he was British Consul at Richmond from 1862 to 1868, and at Venice from 1868 until his death, in 1800.--E. D.

** “Reminiscences of Lever and Thackeray,” by Major D------. From “The Portfolio” (Appendix to ‘life of Lever,’ by Dr Fitzpatrick).

*** He galloped his horse on the hardest road, says one authority. Though the boldest of riders, says another, he had a loose rolling seat Yet another authority declares that in riding his face wore an expression of the utmost enjoyment. Even on horseback he dressed himself almost as negligently as if he were in his “snuggery,” displaying a wide expanse of shirt-front, the lowest button on his waistcoat being the only one in its button-hole.--E. D.

The Major tells an anecdote of another dinnerparty--one at the house of Remy Sheehan, a well-known Dublin journalist of the period. Sheehan was the leading member of the staff of ‘The Evening Mail’.* (to which paper Lever was an occasional contributor). In the hall of Sheehan’s house were certain wooden figures partly clad in armour. The lady whom Lever took in to dinner asked him if he could tell her who the wooden figures were intended to represent. “They are the staff of ‘The Mail,’” replied the humourist.

* Sheridan Le Fanu subsequently owned and edited this journal--E.D.

Before he had got halfway through ‘The O’Donoghue’ its light-hearted author grew weary: he feared he was becoming too serious. He appealed to his publisher for advice, asking him how he would prefer to have the story: was he to wind it up amid the lightning and thunder which scattered the French fleet in Bantry Bay? or was he to end it “in Colburn-and-Bentley fashion, with love and marriage licences?” He considered that the scheme of the story required a tragic ending. M’Glashan objected to tragedy--“the ladies wouldn’t like it,”--and Lever at last consented to make a more or less happy ending to his ‘Tale of Ireland, Fifty Years Ago.’

When ‘The O’Donoghue’ was completed, Lever wrote a short novel which he entitled ‘St Patrick’s Eve.’ He dedicated this book to his children. Being aware that his relations with the Magazine (and consequently with the publishers of his books) were none too pleasant, Mr Pearce volunteered to take the manuscript of ‘St Patrick’s Eve’ to London. He went straight to Chapman & Hall, and read the greater portion of the story to the brothers Chapman, who promptly purchased it.* Mr Pearce is under the impression that at the same time he made an agreement on Lever’s behalf with the Chapmans for a new novel--‘The Knight of Gwynne.’

* ‘St Patrick’s Eve’ was illustrated by Phiz. Chapman & Hall paid the author £200 on account to cover royalties on the sale of 5000 copies.--E. D.

The year 1844 furnished Lorrequer with another challenge from a testy man of letters. In the January number of his Magazine a memoir of Dr Maginn appeared. It was written by Dr Kenealy. The article was of considerable length, and Lever informed his publishers that eighteen persons, ranging from the Duke of Wellington to Sam Lover, were insulted, and that there were at least four distinct libels in the memoir.

Lever cut out most of the matter which he considered to be offensive or dangerous, and the result was that Dr Kenealy sent his editor a challenge. But the matter was somehow arranged without a hostile meeting.

Lorrequer was growing heartily weary of editorial worries. Throughout his career he suffered from hyper-sensitiveness,--the complaint stuck to him in every clime as persistently as his gouty attacks. While he held the reins at the office of ‘The Dublin University,’ Ireland was in an acutely nervous condition. O’Connell was struggling for repeal of the Act of Union; the Young Irelanders were urging the people to adopt methods more drastic than O’Connell would countenance; the political sect to which Lever belonged was antagonistic to O’Connell and to the Young Irelanders. Party feeling ran high, party rancour flourished, and many a hard blow was struck. William Carleton fell foul of Lever at an early stage, and attacked him at every opportunity. ‘The Nation’--that unique Irish paper, founded in 1842--published in 1843 an article about the editor of ‘The Dublin University,’ accusing him of every literary vice. This article was written by Carleton, who lived in a glass house, but was not afraid to hurl stones at his brother novelist. It became the fashion for every Dublin print which was not of the same way of thinking, politically, as Lever, to abuse him. He complains, early in 1845, of being racked by annoyances from every quarter, “sick of falsehood, pretension, bad faith, covert insolence, senile flattery.” He thought Ireland would have welcomed him with open arms, and would have encouraged him to reside in it, and the incense that was offered to him, he says bitterly, was misrepresentation and abuse. He did not make sufficient allowance for the intense acerbity which distinguishes political bickerings. He speaks also of “vile headaches not leaving him night or day for months.” He was plainly the victim of overwork. Five novels and numerous short papers had been written in less than three years, and during these years the editorship of ‘The Dublin University’ used up a considerable portion of his time, and played havoc with his nerves.

He made up his mind to bid good-bye to Templeogue,--“to seek out a tranquil place in a foreign land,” he writes, “and to work away among my children”; and in February 1845 he set out once more for Brussels, Mr Pearce accompanying him.

It was whispered at the time of his departure that he was in serious money difficulties, but two of his intimate Mends, Judge Longfield and Major Dwyer, vouch that when leaving Ireland he left no debt behind him. Lever’s own statement to Canon Hayman was that Dublin people were telling one another he was about to take “French leave.” “The truth is,” he continued, “I came to Dublin so poor a man that I cannot be much poorer leaving it. But no one suffers by my poverty, except me and mine.” Though he ceased to be the editor of ‘The Dublin University’ he did not sever his connection with the Magazine until a much later period.*

* The average circulation of the Magazine (which, it must be remembered, was published at half-a-crown) was 4000 during Lever’s editorship. The circulation gradually fell away, and early in the ‘Eighties the periodical died.--E. D.

And here, as we see the last of Charles Lever as a resident on Irish soil, it may be suggested that it has been the fashion to contemplate his novels which have Irishmen for their heroes--‘Harry Lorrequer’ being rather a series of stories of desultory adventures than an ordinary novel--from points of view which indicate some obliquity or narrowness of vision. In Great Britain Lever is recognised merely as the humorsome delineator of the rollicking, mule-cart-topping, bullet-proof dragoon: in Ireland he is regarded by a considerable section of his countrymen as a farce-writer, or else as that abomination, the Anti-Irish Irishman.** Many of his critics--English, Irish, American--assert that his sketches of Hibernian life are hopelessly out of drawing, that his gross exaggeration smudges the picture. William Carle-ton went so far as to accuse him of deliberately giving to the public “disgusting and debasing caricatures” of Irish life and character. This class of criticism is born either of ignorance or of jealousy or of crassness.

** Some of his Irish traducers--meaning to be scornful-- speak of him as an Englishman, and imply that he was unable to view men and affairs with an Irish eye. Thomas Davis, like Lever, was the son of an English father and of a mother who was of Cromwellian-Irish stock, yet no Irishman dreams of referring to Davis as “a foreigner.”--E. D.

Any one who will take the trouble to make himself acquainted with the chronicles of social life of the periods described by Lever will find that there is little exaggeration in his pictures. Of Irish peasant life he did not possess that intimate knowledge--it can be acquired only through actual experience--that Carle-ton possessed; but in none of Lever’s books is there to be found anything bordering on disgusting and debasing caricatures of the peasantry. One of his later Irish critics goes so far in another direction as to insist that Lever “represents the native virtues of the Irish so delicately and justly that no Englishman is suffered to scoff at the poverty or ignorance of the people.” The same critic continues: “Irish novelists are blamable for much of the reproach cast upon Ireland in other countries. But Lever is not chargeable either with caricature or concealment. Whenever he has to deal with the good qualities of a race much maligned, he shows that he is engaged upon a labour of love.” And his Irish gentleman _is_ a gentleman. If any class of Irishmen has a right to complain of unfair treatment at the hands of Harry Lorrequer, that class is the priesthood: but this applies only to his very early books,--and Father Tom Loftus atones for much.

The English novel-reader in the lump cares less than nothing for Lever’s most valuable opinions and sketches of current political and social life, or for his admirable pictures of a bygone time in the Emerald Isle,--he is anxious to “cut the cackle and get to the ‘osses.” Many an Irish reader professes to hold the belief that because Lever occasionally treads upon a pet corn he was impregnated with a savage desire to stamp violently on the foot of the patriot, eager to offer him a jibe or a sneer in lieu of an apology. Irishmen--if an Irishman may say it--are too ready to take offence at having their foibles laughed at. Race-feeling has much to do with this sensitiveness: circumstances more. The prosperous Briton can afford to enjoy banter. He says to himself, “He laughs best who laughs last”; and he is confident he is going to have the last laugh against somebody else. The mere Irishman resents having fun poked at him. He prefers, or pretends to prefer, unstinted praise to a reasonable mixture of praise, blame, and sarcasm; he knows that in his inmost breast he harbours the quality of merciless self-criticism. He does not desire laudation for the comfort of his inner self, but for blazonry--for the eye of the world outside his beloved island. Lever made no attempt to pander to this idiosyncrasy--like Don John, he laughed when he was merry and clawed no man in his humour; but whether he laughed at or with his country or his fellow-countrymen, there was no bitterness or spitefulness in his mirth. Whatsoever his political opinions, his sympathies were as Irish as the Wicklow hills, and his kindly heart could not foster malice: even for his relentless enemy, the gout, he could always find a pleasant word.

VII. BRUSSELS--BONN--CARLSRUHE 1845-1846

Although he left Ireland in pique, and although he gave his friends the impression that he was leaving it for ever, it is doubtful if Lever had arrived at any definite decision concerning his future movements when he set out from Templeogue. It may be judged from the letter which he wrote to Spencer upon his arrival in Brussels that he had at the back of his mind an idea of returning, after a brief period of exile, to his native country.

_To Mr Alexander Spencer._

“Brussels, _Feb._ 28, 1845.

“On my way through London I made certain publishing arrangements which can be fulfilled either by a residence abroad or in Ireland; and it is a matter of grave debate with what to decide upon. Meanwhile, I should like the power to resume my tenure of Templeogue, and would be greatly gratified if you could make such an arrangement with Gogarty* that I could hold on till the end of June or July on payment of a certain sum (say £50), and in the event of returning continue my tenancy as before. Should Gogarty make any arrangement to this purpose, pray then communicate with Bennett the auctioneer, and do not let him sell the oak or anything else, save the old lace given to him by my wife. If there be a great difficulty with Gogarty, I should rather retain the house and let it for the season in the event of my not returning. The other alternative of being turned out of a place which suits me so well [? is hateful].

* The landlord of Templeogue House.

“We have, _malgré_ two stormy nights at sea, [? progressed] admirably. The children are in great health and spirits, and enjoying their old haunts here in perfect ecstasies.

“The weather here is cold beyond anything. Snow and ice everywhere. Stoves and fur coats are able for it, however, and the elasticity of the air is actual champagne after the muddy small beer of a Dublin day.”

_To Mr Alexander Spencer._

“Hôtel Britannique, Brussels, _March 22_,1845.

“I am regularly installed here in capital quarters at the Hôtel Britannique, with every comfort in the midst of much attentions and civilities on all sides. The Rhine is frozen and the highroads ten or twelve feet deep in snow, so that further travelling is for the present out of the question, nor do I much regret it. We are well housed, fed, and entertained--away from the worry of Curry & Co., and at least enjoying tranquillity--if not deriving other benefits....

“There has been great delay about my book, ‘St Patrick’s Eve,’ but I hope by the time this reaches you, you will have received a copy. I am anxious you should like it, because, apart from any literary [? vanity], I have taken the opportunity of saying my _mot sur l’Irelande_ which, whether unfounded or true, is at least sincere.”

Pleasantly situated and infected with the gaiety of life in a Continental capital, Lever quickly forgot his editorial worries. The calumnies, the neglect, and the hard knocks which he had suffered at the hands of political and journalistic opponents in Ireland were forgotten or forgiven, and doubtless it was while he was enjoying this charitable and happy frame of mind that he penned his “Word at Parting,” which was printed in the August number of ‘The Dublin University.’ (A publishers note accompanied the “Word,” explaining that it should have appeared in the issue for July.) He proclaims: “I abdicate at goodwill with all my fellow-labourers, and for reasons so purely personal that I feel it would be an act of egotism to obtrude them on public notice.” Then he goes on to say that he would have left the stage in silence,--there was not infrequently a hint of the theatre about his sayings and doings,--if he did not consider that his silence might be regarded as an act of ingratitude to a public who had contributed so much to his happiness, and who were so dear to his memory.

_To the Rev. John Lever._

“Brussels, _May_ 18, 1846.

“Etienne [or Steeni] has just arrived safely with all his menagerie in good condition,--not even a scratch on the horses,--and his newly-bought phaeton [? is] a perfect bijou, and when harnessed with my two new ponies, a perfect park equipage, and already the envy of Belgium and the Belgians.

“Will you think me a very shabby fellow if I ask you to give me back a gift? I would not make the request for myself or mine, but I am differently circumstanced at this moment. Sir Hamilton Seymour, whose kindness to me is hourly and increasing, has asked me to initiate him into the art or mystery of equestrianising his nursery, and even gone so far as to beg me to get him a pony. Will you give me Prince for him? I would not, as I have said, ask him for myself, but there are obligations which really weary by repetition, and I, who have not found too many such friends in the world, begin to feel a kind of depression at being the recipient of bounties. Pray, then, forgive me, and don’t think me the meanest fellow in the world.

“If I am not asking more than I dare, will you send the beastie to Dublin and have him shipped--Saturday morning--by _long sea_ for London, where Mr Pearce will meet him on landing, and take care of him. I am ashamed (I cannot say more or less) of all this, but I own to you I feel I am on safe ground that you will not judge me unfairly or harshly. ‘I’m in a dead fix, and that’s a fact,’ as the Yankees say. It is rather of consequence that he should be sent off by the Saturday’s Dublin Packet, because the Antwerp boat leaves London on Thursday morning, and if the pony were not despatched by that day he should stay a week in London. Smith, the gardener at Temple-ogue, would assist in getting him comfortably installed by giving one of the sailors 10s. to mind him during the voyage. He could be cared for--hay and bran being of course provided....

“I shall write a line to Saunders by this post to assist so far as regards payment of various expenses, land and sea. The beastie should be well muffled up against cold.

“I have only one word to add. If all this be impracticable, difficult, or impossible, get Dycer to buy me the smallest, roughest, most shelty, ‘Princely’ pony that can be had. I don’t care if he costs a little more than a horse-fancier would say was his value. £10 or £15 I’ll give if necessary.”

After a pleasant experience of entertaining and of being entertained in Brussels, after a round of visits to salons and to picture-galleries, excursions to Waterloo and elsewhere, Lever decided to set out upon a tour through Belgium and up the Rhine. He was accompanied by the full strength of his household, and about the middle of June he bade good-bye once more to Brussels.

His first halting-place of importance was Bonn.

_To Mr Alexander Spencer._

“Hotel bellevue, Bonn, _June_ 24, 1845.

“I have certainly the gift of what the French call the _mémoire de l’escalier_, or the faculty of remembering on the stairs what should have been said in the drawing-room....

“I am gaining in health and spirits and losing in flesh and depression, wellnigh down to 12 stone (_vice_ 14 1/2), and I can exercise from morning till night without feeling the slightest fatigue, and eat of everything most sour, greasy, and German, and never know the penalty of indigestion. For the three years I passed in Ireland I had not as many days of health as I have already enjoyed here. This, though very favourable to comfort, seems little conducive to hard labour, for I cannot write a line, and really do nothing save amuse myself from morning till night. The temptations are strong: we have the Rhine and the mountains beside us, and, as we are all mounted, we pass the days on horseback or on the water. We dine at one! and so have a very long evening.... Let me hear how you like No. 7 [The] O’D[onoghue] when you read it.”

_To Mr Alexander Spencer._

“Carlsruhe (or Bonn), _July_ 26, 1845.

“...My mind is at ease by thinking that I owe nothing to or in Ireland save my affection for John* and yourself....

“My friend James has been spending a week with me here.”

* His brother.

_To Mr Alexander Spencer._

“Carlsruhe, _Aug_. 10, 1846.

“Your letter followed me here from Bonn, from which delightful little sojourn a royal visit and a musical festival had driven me,--Queen Victoria and Beethoven, with the due accompaniment of bonfires, blue lights, and bassoons, being too much for my common nerves. Here we are for the present, located, as the Yankees say, in the stillest, quietest, most fast-asleep of all German cities, regularly, even beautifully, built,--with a Grand Duke and a Ministry and a _corps diplomatique_, but all seemingly mesmerised into a dreamy lethargy, in which all speech or motion is excluded. We had some thoughts of passing a winter here, but though it would suit my pocket well, my impatience and restlessness could scarcely stand the sluggish tranquillity.... I am unable to say where we shall pass the winter. There was some thought of Lausanne, but all Switzerland is dear, and our party is a large one--ten souls and five quadrupeds.”