Towards the close of 1849 ‘Roland Cashel’ was published in book form by
Messrs Chapman & Hall. It was dedicated to G. P. R. James--“a Roland for
your Oliver, or rather for your Stepmother,” according to Lever (to whom
James had dedicated the last-named novel). The opening of 1850 found the
author of ‘Roland Cashel’ struggling to make headway with a new work of
fiction, for which he was troubled not only to find a satisfactory
plot but even a satisfactory title. Ere long, however, the story shaped
itself, and the title came trippingly--‘Maurice Tiernay, the Soldier of
Fortune.’ M’Glashan had written to Lever asking him to contribute a new
serial to ‘The Dublin University’; and choosing to forget his Dublin
quarrellings, he agreed to write a novel which would run for twelve or
twenty numbers according to the humour, or at the discretion, of the
author. He was also busy with ‘The Daltons.’ ‘Maurice Tiernay’ was to be
a tale of military adventure, ‘The Daltons’--possibly his most ambitious
book--a novel of a more homely pattern. The story of the Daltons was a
long time in the making. The author employed some of the ideas he had
entertained for ‘Corrig O’Neill,’ the novel which he had abandoned
in 1845--most likely because of Miss Edgeworth’s objections. He had
commenced ‘The Daltons’ late in 1849. He tells us that it was no labour
to sit at his desk for the easy hour and a half which sufficed to carry
on his literary labours at this period. The incidents came to him as
he required them without effort, and the sayings and doings of his
characters afforded him infinite amusement. “Although no longer a young
man,” he writes, “I had not yet felt one touch of age, nor knew myself
other than I was at five-and-twenty; and it was this conscious buoyancy
of temperament, joined to a shrewder knowledge of the life, that
imparted to me a sense of enjoyment in society for which I have no word
but ecstasy. The increasing business of life went on before me like
a play in which, if occasionally puzzled by the plot, I could always
anticipate the _dénoûment_ by my reading of the actors. Such a theatre
was Florence in these old grand-ducal times--times which, whatever the
political shortcomings, were surrounded with a charm of existence words
cannot picture. If it were an obligation on me to relive any portion of
my life, I should select this part, even in preference to earlier youth
and more hopeful ambitions.”
His only anxieties or troubles arose whenever he was suddenly aroused to
a knowledge of the fact that money was going out much more rapidly
than it was coming in--a discovery which always spurred him to renewed
literary exertions.
_To Mr Alexander Spencer._
“Casa Ximenes, _Jan_. 14, 1850
“It is a very short-sighted view of the past year which regards the
struggle as one between the principles of Monarchy and Democracy. The
real question at issue is the far greater question of Social Equality.
It was begun in Switzerland, attempted at Cracow, mooted [?] in Pau,
in Vienna, throughout Italy and Germany and Hungary, and is yet in
litigation,--with all men to urge and argue it, and with starving
half-enlightened millions to drive them forward. Not the least dangerous
part of this tremendous commotion is that many worthy and right-minded
men wish it success. Some see in it the hope of a grand advance in
human happiness and civilisation. Others predict that Protestantism--the
religion of liberty and enlightenment--will overcome the old foe of
superstition. But all seem to forget to restore order, for chaos is not
man’s prerogative, and that in every history we read how such convulsion
inevitably threw mankind back almost into elemental barbarism, glad even
of the refuge of a tyranny against the more cruel dominion of their own
passions. Pray, my dear friend, don’t set my [? lamentation] down as a
worse evil than what it is intended to typify. And now for ourselves!
“Here we are, with snow a yard deep and the thermometer at 18° to 20°
Fahrenheit, and this with Italian houses, marble halls and floors,
marble tables, and every accessory for icing poor human nature on a
grand scale. We never suffered as much from cold in the Tyrol Alps, for
really there is not one single preparation here against it,--and as to
fire, I have burned a small forest already.
“Socially we are far worse off than before. The worst feeling exists
between the Austrians and the Italians: they seldom meet, and never
amicably. The consequence is that few houses are open, and those few
admit only a certain set of intimates. The Court, to avoid difficulties,
does nothing; and theatres--of which there are seven--every night are
deplorably bad. So you can see how dull one can be even in this favoured
region. We are, however, all well, and the children not the less happy
that sliding and skating replace mere promenading.
“I am in the throes of a new book, of which after a few months’ full
pondering over I cannot even fix up the name, so that you see I haven’t
made much progress.”
_To Mr Alexander Spencer._
“Florence, _Feb_. 2, 1850.
“The enclosed bulky packet--which I need not say is entirely open to you
if you care to read it--I want you to negotiate with M’Glashan for ‘The
Dublin University Magazine’; the ground of the treaty being that I am
to write a serial story, of which this is the opening chapter,* [?
instalments] of a length varying from 16 to 18 pp. in the Magazine, the
copyright of which I am to retain,--the whole to be concluded in twelve
or twenty contributions, as we may see best, and for which I ask £20 per
sheet, but if obliged will take 16 guineas--terms he offered me before.
My plan is a story which, embracing the great changes in the present
century, would bring my hero _en scène_ in the recent convulsions of the
world--in the years ‘48 and ‘49.”
* ‘Maurice Tiernay.’
_To Mr Alexander Spencer._
“Florence, _Feb_. 26,1850.
“As to his [M’Glashan’s] codicil. He knows me by this time well enough
to be aware that if he but gives me the wind of a word, I am always
ready to pull up short; and if the story should not be found to tell
with his readers, I’ll make a short yarn of it willingly. Only I beg
that I may not be asked to spoil a catastrophe by any abruptness, but
get fair notice to shorten sail....
“With ‘Tiernay’ I may be able to work along in these hard times, when,
besides my confoundedly wasteful habits, education--or what affects to
be education--for the brats runs away with every sixpence I can make.
“I have said nothing about [using] my name in the M’Glashan compact,
because as he does not in the Magazine append other names, he will not
of course do so with mine. But in any other way I have no desire
to blink the authorship, intending, as I do, to make the story as
interesting as I am able.
“In another six weeks we shall be in the mountains,--in our old
delightful quarters at the Bagni di Lucca,--where cheapness and glorious
scenery are happy associates.
“I have not heard more of the notices of my book in ‘The Dublin
University Magazine,’ and now that a new contribution of mine will
appear there, it would be too late, and look too like a puff, to print
a critique on me in the same sheet with myself. Tell M’Glashan that
however anxious [? I may be] for a review, I’d rather forgo it now than
incur such a malapropos.
“I have repeated assurances sent special to me of the high estimate of
my books entertained by the directors of ‘The Quarterly,’ but from some
underhand proceeding--some secret influence of whose machinery I can
obtain no information--they never have noticed me publicly. I have
been given to understand that the Dickens and Thackeray cliques have
conspired to this end. Of course I have never hinted this to any one,
nor shown any feeling on the subject, but the injury is considerable
even in a pecuniary point.
“You would scarcely believe how much I have sacrificed in not being
a regular member of the Guild of Letters,--dining at the Athenaeum,
getting drunk at The Garrick, supping with ‘Punch,’ and steaming down to
a Whitebait feed at Blackwall with reporters, reviewers, and the
other [? acolytes] of the daily press. This you will say is no such
fascinating society. Very true; but it pays--or, what is worse, nothing
else will pay. The ‘Pressgang’ take care that no man shall have success
independent of them. Or if he do--_gare à lui_--let him look to himself!
“I am now cudgelling my brains about a new story for Chapman, to
be called ‘The Daltons, or, Three Roads in Life,’ in which I have
attempted--God knows with what chance of success!--the quiet homely
narrative style of German romance-writers. I shall be very anxious to
know what you will think of it, and you shall see the first No. as soon
as it is printed.
“Scott says that to write well you must write unceasingly, and that the
well of imagination does not go dry from exhaustion but from want of
pumping. Mine is not likely to fail if I only intend to keep bread in
our mouths.”
The circle of Anglo-Florentine society was widened in 1850 by the advent
of Richard Lalor Shiel,* who came to Florence as British Minister. In
Ireland Lever and Shiel had been bitterly opposed to each other, but
meeting in a foreign city, their political animosities were forgotten,
and they fraternised as Irish exiles and Irish humourists. Lever enjoyed
wit as keenly as whist; and he declared that Shiel had lost none of his
wit by being transplanted, and that he could make a _bon mot_ in French
with as much readiness and grace as he could make one in English.
Shiel, unfortunately, had a short tenure of office in Florence. He died
suddenly in 1851.
* Richard Lalor Shiel had enjoyed a checkered career. He had
studied for the Catholic priesthood. Then, with a view to
the Bar, he entered Trinity College. When he was only about
twenty years of age he wrote a tragedy. He followed this up
with other plays, the most popular being “Evadne, or the
Statue.” In 1822 he was called to the Bar. In the same year
he allied himself with Daniel O’Connell. He entered
Parliament in 1831. Later he was Vice-President of the Board
of Trade, and subsequently Master of the Mint Gladstone, in
1877, described Shiel as “a great orator with a very fervid
imagination and an enormous power of language and strong
feeling.”--E. D.
Another of Lever’s Irish friends of this period was Catharine Hayes:
a biographical sketch of the famous soprano appeared in ‘The Dublin
University’ for November 1850.
‘Maurice Tiernay’ commenced its magazine career in May 1850. The story
bore no author’s name, but the authorship must have been more than
suspected by the readers of ‘The Dublin University.’ Lever was very
diligent during this year. In addition to ‘Tiernay’ he had ‘The Daltons’
in hand. M’Glashan was anxious to procure short contributions from the
busy man’s pen. He applied to him for a memoir of Samuel Lover,* but
Lever declined to undertake anything so onerous as biography. Failing to
obtain this memoir, M’Glashan inquired if Lever would furnish materials
for a sketch of the author of ‘Harry Lorrequer.’ But Lorrequer was not
to be drawn. He explained that though his taste was sufficiently gross
to crave laudation, he would be expected to enter into a defence of his
Irish character-sketching, and this he would not do. “I will not be a
sign-post to myself,” he wrote. “Like old Woodcock in the play, my cry
is--‘No money till I die.’”
* The memoir of the author of ‘Handy Andy’--a brief one--
was written by another hand: it appeared in the D. U. M. for
February 1861.--E. D.
Writing to Miss Mitford, in November 1850, Mrs Browning makes a sad
complaint of the Irish novelist. “We never see him,” she says; “it
is curious. He made his way to us with the sunniest of faces and the
cordialest of manners at Lucca; and I, who am much taken by manner, was
quite pleased with him, and wondered why it was that I didn’t like his
books. Well, he only wanted to see that we had the right number of eyes
and no odd fingers. Robert, in return for his visit, called on him
three times, I think, and I left my card on Mrs Lever; but he never came
again. He had seen enough of us, he could put down in his private diary
that we had neither claw nor tail,--and there an end, properly enough.
In fact, he lives a différent life from ours; he is in the ball-room and
we in the cave,--nothing could be more different; and perhaps there are
not many subjects of common interest between us.”
Mrs Browning was unquestionably and not unreasonably offended. In a
later letter to Miss Mitford, railing against English society, she says:
“People in Florence come together to gamble or dance, and if there’s an
end, why, so much the better; but there’s _not_ an end in most cases, by
any manner of means, and against every sort of innocence. Mind, I imply
nothing about Mr Lever, who lives irreproachably with his wife and
family, rides out with his children in a troop of horses to the Cascine,
and yet is as social a person as his joyous temperament leads him to
be. But we live in a cave, and peradventure he is afraid of the damp of
us.” *
* Dr Fitzpatrick asserts in his ‘Life of Lever’ that Lever
was intimately associated with the Brownings in Florence,
and “found a real charm in the companionship.” And pity
‘tis tis untrue!--E. D.
The only plausible explanation of Lever’s neglect of the Brownings is
that he did not feel quite at ease in the presence of the author of
‘Aurora Leigh.’ When he sought mental relaxation, after a hard day’s
work, he sought it in the society of those who were content to listen
to his agreeable rattle rather than in the society of those to whom he
should lend his ears. He was by no means insensible to feminine charms,
mental or physical. He gloried in praise coming from the mouths of
intellectual women. But the woman of genius was not the comrade he
coveted in his hours of ease: the companionship of men--of good talkers
or good listeners--was what he craved. He had a peculiar reverence
for women. He idealised the gentler sex: his heroines are refined,
beautiful, pure. He abhorred the intricacies of sexuality in fiction
as strongly as he abhorred modern “sensationalism.” Feminine
intellectuality of the most exalted type did not attract him--possibly
because it was likely to freeze the genial current of his conversation.
The opening of the New Year--1851--did not bring monetary relief. He
invited M’Glashan to make him an offer for the copyright of ‘Maurice
Tiernay,’ and he told him that he was willing to contribute a new serial
to the Magazine when ‘Tiernay’ had run its course. ‘The Daltons’ was
still moving slowly along. Mortimer O’Sullivan wrote encouragingly about
this novel. Adverting to O’Sullivan’s favourable criticism, the author
said that his own feeling was, he had spent too much time dallying among
the worthless characters. For this he had an apology to offer--namely,
that the good people in the book were fictitious, while the unworthy
ones were drawn from life.
M’Glashan was slow to reply, and Lever bombarded him for remittances,
vowing that he was so crippled for want of cash that he could not put
any heart into his work. It was almost impossible, he declared, to
retrench in Florence, “where” (he somewhat naively observes) “we have
lived in the best, and consequently in the most expensive, set. To leave
it would incur great expense.... I am alternately fretting, hoping,
riding, dining, and talking away,--to all seeming the most easy-minded
of mortals; but, as Hood said, sipping champagne on a tight-rope.”
But whether you feel angry with him for his improvidence, or whether you
are moved to compassion by contemplating his difficulties, you cannot
help smiling at his excuses or parables. A friend upon one solemn
occasion tendered advice on the score of his extravagance. He pointed
out that Lever kept too many horses and too many servants, gave too many
dinners, and played too highly at cards. The friend--a personage--wound
up his homily by saying, “Begin your reformation with small economies.”
The novelist determined to economise, and he tried to think where it
would be easiest to begin. He racked his brain throughout the night in
the endeavour to hit upon a starting-point in the proposed career of
reformation. At length a happy thought occurred to him. He was in the
habit of indulging in pistol-practice at a shooting-gallery, and he used
to give a franc to a man who held his horse while he was amusing himself
in the gallery. Now it would be an admirable effort in the scheme of
economy to do away with the splendour of hiring a man to hold his
horse. Henceforth he would fasten the bridle to one of the hooks of
the jalousies. When he arrived next morning at the gallery the man who
usually held the horse was in waiting. Lever informed him that he did
not require his services. The dismay of the man smote the economist
to the heart, but he had been told that he might expect to endure many
pangs in the effort to inaugurate the campaign of frugality. He hitched
his horse to the hook, shamefacedly, and entered the gallery. The effort
to economise steeled his nerves, and at the first shot he hit the centre
of the target. This excellent example of shooting had the effect of
ringing a bell denoting the triumph of the marksman. The bell startled
the horse outside, and the animal broke away, “carrying the window-frame
with him,” according to Lever. “Altogether,” he says, “the repairs
amounted to eighty-seven francs.... This was my first and last attempt
at economy.”
A small turn of fortune’s wheel cheered him in March. A man to whom he
had loaned a considerable sum of money gave him a series of bills which
he managed to discount at a large sacrifice for cash. During the same
month a trouble, not of his own making, disturbed him--the threat of a
fresh outbreak in Florence. This, however, blew over, and he was able
to continue his literary labour until the heat of August drove him, limp
and desk-weary, from the Tuscan capital.
He turned his steps towards Spezzia (destined to be his official place
of residence at a later period), and here he enjoyed to its full extent
the luxury of lotus-eating. He offered a deaf ear to appeals for “copy.”
He could do nothing, he told his publishers, except to sit on the rocks
with his children and dream away the whole day. When he did arouse
himself from this form of lethargy, it was only to indulge in another
variety of _dolce far niente_--swimming. One day he was aroused from a
half dream, as he lay floating on the bosom of the bay, by the sting of
an electric-fish. His arm became swollen and inflamed, and he suffered
excruciating pain. Leeching and blistering, and subsequently massage,
pulled him through, but left him weak and querulous.
“The piano-playing, guitar-twanging, sol-fahing, and yelling” which went
on at his hotel drove him out of Spezzia in September.
_To Mr Alexander Spencer._
“Casa Capponi, Florence, _Nov_. 21, 1851.
“‘Maurice Tiernay’ being completed, I want to know how I stand. If I
remember aright, M’Glashan advanced me £60 here, and paid two other sums
for insurance, amounting to about £160 or £170 more, leaving a surplus
sufficient, I hope, for the accruing insurance of next Xmas. In
addition to this I have proposed to him to purchase out my copyright of
‘Tiernay,’ to which he replied by stating that he is ‘engaged in making
certain calculations on the subject, and will give me the result in a
speedy letter.’ Now I am so aware of his procrastinations that I would
rather intrust the negotiations to you, and ask of you to find out his
resolve and let me hear it. I want to learn if he desires another serial
from me, to begin about the same month as before--April. If so (and that
he makes me any acceptable offer about the copyright of ‘Tiernay ‘),
I would wish to know if he would feel disposed to take the story
altogether off my hands at once,--I mean, to give me a certain monthly
sum for the tale, surrendering my copyright, so that I should attain no
subsequent lien upon it, my object being to have a little more money for
present purposes, which the education of my children and other outlays
render needful.
“Even with both oars [this refers to ‘The Dal-tons’] I have barely kept
my bark in motion for the past year, and these anxious inquiries will
show you how anxious I feel about the year to come. _Hinc illo lachrymo_
thus tormenting of you!
“With so much of actual Peter Daltonism in my own affairs, I have little
courage to ask you what you think of my fictitious woes, but I hope
you go with me in the chief views I take of priestly craft and priestly
political meddling. O’Sullivan writes me many encouraging things about
the story generally, and in parts; and I believe it is not worse than
some, and is better than many of its fellows,--its chief errors (which
I see too late) being an undue dalliance among the more worthless
_dramatis persono_, and less stress consequently on the better features
of the piece. More of Nelly and less of Haggerstone & Coy. would have
been better. My own apology is, I have lived only among the Haggerstone
class latterly, and that Nelly is pure fiction while the others are
naked facts,--indeed they are portraits drawn from the life, and in some
cases so close as to make the original manifestly uneasy.
“‘Tiernay’ is of course a poor performance--sketchy-meat [? or meal] and
skim-milky; but here, again, I am ready with an excuse. I cannot be good
for £20 a sheet!--just as I should revoke if I played whist for shilling
points.
“O’Sullivan wishes me to take time for a really good effort in three
vols., and so on. But how am I to live meanwhile? While I am training
for the match I’ll die of hunger.
“As to a new M’Glashan serial, I have a thing _en tête_ that would do;
but of course he would trust me as to my giving him value without any
question as to the colour of the cloth. Believe me, my dear friend, that
if I knew how, I should not have inflicted upon you all this surplus
labour nor given you more of my tiresomeness than you see in my
red-bound Nos. illustrated by Phiz. But so it is: an author is
an unlucky friend, whether it be his life or works that are under
consideration.”
_To Mr Alexander Spencer._
“Florence, _Dec_ 24, 1861.
“As to the ‘Tiernay’ copyright, it is somewhat equivocal in him
[M’Glashan] to talk to me for three months of calculations and then
ask a proposition from me. Now such is my necessity that I will take
absolutely anything for it. If he thinks £200 too much, then £150--nay
£100--say one hundred, as Mr [O’] Connell observed. I repeat, my urgent
necessity is such that I would make any sacrifice for the use of that
sum at once. I leave it to your diplomacy to make the proposal in any
shape you can,--the great object being M’Glashan’s permission to draw
on him at three months for whatever he may deem the suitable price. You
will see, my dear friend, that I am driven to my last resources--and
for this reason: that at this season a deluge of duns await me, who,
whatever their forbearance before, give me no quarter at the end of the
year. I need not tell you, then, that days are very precious to me.
I have no occasion to stimulate your kindness and affection. I am
overdrawn with Chapman, and have actually no immediate resource, this
procrastination of M’Glashan from the early part of October last having
occupied me with the hopes of a settlement, and thus taken me off the
track by which I might possibly have extricated myself.
“As to the future, let us, if he will, renew the old contract--£20 per
sheet; and I will begin with the April quarter--if I don’t jump into
the Arno before--a brand new serial as jocose and comical as can well be
expected from a mind so thoroughly easy and well-to-do as mine. I will
complete it in twelve or twenty parts monthly, and it shall be at his
discretion to say which. I cannot yet give him the text, because I am
vacillating between two themes,--and to predict a plan is with me to
make the whole effort pall and disgust me. So much so is this the case,
that when the children guess a _dénoûment_ that I intend, I am never
able to write it after; and when you read this to M’Glashan he will
recognise a fact that he knew well once, though he may have forgotten
it. If I am to go to work, let him tell me this,--or, rather, let him
tell you at once,--for our Carnival begins here next week, and for a
month at least all quiet and repose is at an end, but still I could pick
up some of the raw material for future fabrication.
“Now, my dear friend, for my first proposition, _l’affaire_ Tiernay. Get
me something--anything--out of him. Let me know M’Glashan’s reply to the
new Story proposal as soon as he can make up his mind, but _do not wait
for the answer_ if you have any tidings for me _re_ ‘Tiernay.’
“My little people are all well,--and this, thank God, is a piece of good
fortune that goes far to reconcile me to many a hard rub.”
Early in 1852 Lever heard of the tragic fate of his friend Eliot
Warburton, who had perished in the Amazon, the ill-starred steamer which
was burned on her voyage to the west coast of America. Warburton had
made Lever’s acquaintance through sending to the editor of ‘The Dublin
University’ some brilliant sketches of travel: these were published in
the Magazine in 1843, under the title of ‘Episodes of Eastern Travel.’
Subsequently the author of ‘The Crescent and the Cross’ was a guest
at Templeogue, and Lever entertained for him the warmest feelings.
War-burton’s violent end, following closely upon the sudden death
of Shiel,--who was to have dined with Lever the very day of his
death,--gave the novelist a rude shock. He indulged in some very gloomy
moralisings about the uncertainty of all human things, and engineered
himself into a state in which work was impossible. In February he
thought a journey southwards might give him a mental fillip which he
sadly needed. He paid his first visit to Rome, his wife and children
accompanying him. The daily expenditure increased seven-fold: but had he
not forsworn small economies?
_To Mr Alexander Spencer._
“Hôtel De Minerva, Rome, _Feb_. 24, 1852.
“As to the tale for the Magazine. If left entirely to myself as to
place, &c., I could begin about the June or July No., but as yet my
ideas are in anything but a story-telling vein. My head is actually
whirling with its sound of odd and incongruous associations--the ancient
Rome of statues and temples jostling with the modern one of bonbons and
_confetti_,--for it is the height of the Carnival, and the population
has gone clean mad with tomfoolery.
“Old Rome is infinitely grander than I looked for,--the Colosseum and
the Pantheon far beyond all I could conceive.
“We stay only a few days and then on to Naples--to see that (e poi?)t
then back to Florence, for the expense is ruinous. The hotels are
crammed; and as we are all here, and what with ciceroni, carriage hire,
&c, every day is like a week of common living.
“This would do very well if I could afford it. There is everything to
make this a place of intense interest, but one defect as a place of
residence is insuperable--it cannot be inhabited in the summer months.”
_To Mr Alexander Spencer._
“Casa Capponi, Florence, _April_ 3, 1852.
“I write to know in case of need whether the Guardian Office would
advance me a sum of £300 to £500 on my policy for £1500, the annual
payments being now completed? I have received certain offers from
America--on a literary point--which might, or might not, be worth
serious consideration, but they all entail the necessity of residence
in the States, and consequently a degree of preliminary expense of a
serious amount. I am very far from wishing for any arrangement which
as a necessary step includes banishment, and this America is, in my
estimation. But in my position, and with my prospects, bread is the
first requisite.
“I submitted, through O’Sullivan, a plan of a serial to M’Glashan, but
have not yet received a reply.
“Do not mention to any one my American project, as nothing but direst
stress of circumstances would induce me to think of it.”
About this time he forwarded to Mortimer O’Sullivan the plan of a new
serial which he was anxious to negotiate with ‘The Dublin University.’
This was ‘Sir Jasper Carew.’ He was busy, too, evolving the plot of a
new book to follow ‘The Daltons,’ and to be published in monthly parts
by Chapman & Hall. He could not raise any money on this until at least
he had got the story under way. M’Glashan was growing more and more
dilatory in the matter of payments, and Lever was on tenter-hooks,
anticipating a fresh and an accentuated attack of impecuniosity.
Hampered with his private troubles, mostly pecuniary, and with the
burden of his literary engagements, the undaunted novelist presently
hoisted another pack on his shoulders--the championship of Tuscany.
Early in 1852 he contributed two political papers to ‘The Dublin
University,’--one on “Lord Palmerston and Our Policy in the
Mediterranean,” the other on “Great Britain and Italy.” He insisted that
Austria was at the bottom of grave mischief in the Italian peninsula,
and that her designs upon Tuscany were base and tyrannical, and
prejudicial to British interests. “If this beautiful country be worth
preserving,” he writes, “it behoves our new Foreign Secretary so to act
that Englishmen may not be obliged to exclaim, ‘Would that we had Lord
Palmerston back again!’” These articles attracted the notice of Lord
Palmerston, and Sir E. Bulwer-Lytton (who was Attaché at Florence)
informed Lever of this fact, but the whimsical publicist was not hopeful
that his attacks upon Austria’s growing domination in Italy would
advance him in the good graces of the then Foreign Secretary, Lord
Malmesbury. However, later in the year the Conservative party,
conceiving a scheme for the establishment in London of an inspired
Tory organ, cast its eye upon Charles Lever as a likely editor, and the
novelist voyaged to England in order to discuss the project with
Lord Lyndhurst. Major Dwyer furnished Dr Fitzpatrick with some notes
purporting to be Lever’s account of his London experiences. He was shown
into a room where Lord Lyndhurst was seated at one end of a long table.
At once he was seized with the impression that “the wonderful old man”
was one with whom it would be dangerous to trifle, so he decided to
speak with as much brevity and as little levity as possible. “Well,
Mr Lever,” said his lordship, “what principles do you propose for the
direction of our press at this time?” “As much good sense, my lord,”
said the novelist, “as the party will bear.” Evidently the Minister was
pleased with the reply. “That will do, Mr Lever, that will do,” he
said. Lord Ellenborough (or Lord Redesdale), however, was not so easily
satisfied with Lever’s vague political programme.
During his stay in London he visited Thackeray, who sought to dissuade
him from entering the ranks of journalism, assuring him that in his
opinion the author of ‘Charles O’Malley’ would not be in his right place
as the editor of an English political organ. Finally the project
was abandoned by the leaders of the Conservative party, and Lever,
considerably disappointed,--for he felt that his love of politics and
his wide knowledge of political life would enable him to shine as
a political writer, and eventually to become a force in
politics,--returned to Italy.
A practical joke which Lorrequer played shortly after his resignation
of ‘The Dublin University’ caused some trouble more than six years after
date. In the Magazine, early in 1846, there appeared “Lines by G. P.
R James” entitled “A Cloud is on the Western Sky.” The verses were
prefaced by a note: “My dear L------, I send you the song you wished to
have. The Americans totally forgot, when they so insolently calculated
upon aid from Ireland in a war with England, that their own apple is
rotten at the core. A nation with five or six millions of slaves who
would go to war with an equally strong nation with no slaves is a mad
people.--Yours, G. P. R James.” “The Cloud” (amongst other things not
intended to be pleasant to Americans) called upon the dusky millions to
“shout,” and the author of the “Lines” declared that Britain was
ready to draw the sword in the sacred cause of liberty. ‘The Dublin
University’ must have had a circulation in the States, and the readers
of it across the Atlantic had longer memories than Lever wotted. When
his friend James was appointed British Consul at Richmond, Virginia, in
1852, an attempt was made to expel him from the country. The cause of
the aversion to the British Consul was the “Cloud is on the Western
Sky.” James had never even heard of this rhythmical irritant, and
fortunately he was able to convince indignant American patriots that he
was not the author of the poem. When Lever heard of the _contretemps_
he exclaimed: “God forgive me! it was my doing; but I had no more
notion that ‘James’s powder’ could stir up national animosity than that
Holloway’s ointment could absorb a Swiss glacier.” It is pleasant to
note that the belated discovery of this extraordinary joke did not
create any ill-feeling between the two novelists.
_To Mr Alexander Spencer._
“Florence, _Oct. 30, 1852._
“I am glad you like ‘The Dodds.’ I tried it as a vehicle for all manner
of opinions and criticisms--of course as often fanciful as real--on all
manner of things. Kenny Dodd is of course the _cheval de bataille_ of
the performance, and by him and his remarks I hope to make the whole
readable.
“Of Charlie I have the very best account. He is a very quiet boy, and
with great energy of character, half smothered by the indolence
of foreign life and habits; but once in a position to display his
abilities, I have few fears of the result.
“I can speak with even more confidence of his honourable and
straightforward character, nor have I one uncomfortable thought as to
any action he may commit. Ever since he has been away his letters have
convinced me that my confidence is not misplaced, and my chief regret
regarding him is that my scanty means have reduced me to send him to
Armagh _vice_ Eton or Harrow, and that I must give him classics with a
brogue.”
_To Mr Alexander Spencer._
“Casa Capponi, Florence, _June_ 30, 1862.
“My present difficulties, which are considerable, are owing in great
part to a delay (by Chapman’s fault) in the publication of a new serial
story. It was to have begun immediately after ‘The Daltons’ finished,
but by a number of mischances has been deferred, and will now probably
be still longer put off, as the dog-days are death to literature, and
the Literophobia is the malady in season. Meanwhile, if the public are
not devouring my writings I am, and at the present moment have already
eaten the first three numbers.
“I feel, and have long felt, the force of the argument as to residence
in or near England, and probably were it not for a letter that I
received yesterday, would have increased my loan from the Guardian to
convey us all to Ireland. Indeed, such was my full and firm resolve
when I last wrote to you. Yesterday, however, there came a letter from
Whiteside (in reply to one of mine asking to make use of his influence
to obtain for me some diplomatic or consular appointment abroad),
in which he says that he made the application, and it was well
received,--my claims being recognised and my name put down in Lord
Malmesbury’s list. Of course there is nothing now for it but Patience
and Hope--or at least the former; and happily if experience in life
is not favourable to Hope, it makes some compensation by installing
Patience.
“I have no heart to talk about story-telling nor mix up troubles with my
own. Mayhap, however, M’Glashan may supply me with an additional trait
to make up my portrait of The Grinder.
“The account of the Clermont affair reads pleasantly, but now I wish not
to tell the terms, but to wait to have a look at the probable tenant.
These dodges do not require Italian experience to see through,--though
I must say that the man who lets Paddy cheat him after five years’
residence at this side of the Alps, has eaten his macaroni to very
little profit,--the finesse and tact of roguery here being to all
ordinary rascality in the ratio of 1000 to 1.
“Can you give me any idea when the new Parliament will meet? If I go to
London, I should like to be there then.”
The official notice taken of him by the leaders of the Conservative
party encouraged Lever to hope that high things were in store for him.
The alarming feature was that the Derby Administration was crumbling: he
could expect nothing from the Whigs; so that if anything was to be done,
he told himself that “‘twere well ‘twere done quickly.” At this time
there was a project in the air which interested him immensely,--a
project to establish diplomatic relations between England and Rome.
Lever made a journey to Rome in November, and obtained from Sir Henry
Bulwer (afterwards Lord Dalling) some information which he sent, in
the form of a letter, to ‘The Dublin University.’ The conductor of the
Magazine was aghast at the idea of establishing a British Embassy at the
Court of Pius IX., and though he published Lever’s communication,* he
prefaced it with an editorial statement that the Magazine was in no
way responsible for the sentiments or opinions expressed in the letter
signed “C. L.” “As a temporal power,” quoth the editor, “the Court
of Rome, without army, navy, wealth, commerce, or numbers, is in all
respects too helpless and beggarly to afford us the faintest shadow of
a pretext for establishing a diplomatic intimacy with it.” Lever’s
argument was that there was nothing in the project which should offend
or alarm Protestanism. He goes on to say that it would not be necessary
to establish a resident Papal minister at St James’s. The real object
was that England should be represented at the Vatican, and that the
principal business of the mission would be to enlighten the Papacy upon
the condition of political and social affairs in Ireland. Very possibly
Lever considered that he would be “The Man for Rome.”
* “Diplomatic Relations with Rome.” ‘The Dublin University
Magazine’ for December 1852.--E. D.
The break-up of the Derby Administration in December 1852 gave Lever
pause, and threw him back upon his literary work and upon the pleasures
of the card-table. Baron Erlanger testifies to the overpowering
influence which the game of whist had upon the master of Casa Capponi.
“Many a time,” says the Baron, “have I travelled to his charming little
cottage near Florence. On opening the gate we already heard his gay
voice, laughing or talking. Officially we came to play whist.... He
loved his literary pursuits, of course, but no panegyric about his last
book would have given him as much satisfaction as an acknowledgment of
his superiority at whist. He loved the game beyond anything. To us, I
confess, the cards were a mere pretext. It was not one of these dire
sittings when the cards are gravely dealt and every point is scored in
dead silence. A continuous roar of laughter accompanied the game.... His
wit and humour never lacked for a moment a continuous cross-fire of
_bon mots_, unprepared and spontaneous. His extraordinary memory
always astonished us.” Sir Hamilton Seymour bears testimony to Lever’s
wonderful brilliancy as a table-talker. Once he said to the novelist,
“Try to write that anecdote just as you have told it.” “Ah,” replied
Lever, “it can’t be done that way. All the ingenious contrivances ever
invented could not impart to a bottle of Vichy or Carlsbad the freshness
of the water as it sparkled from the fountain.”
_To Mr Alexander Spencer._
“Florence, _April_ 11, 1853.
“I have had a strange half-gouty attack that has put me out of sorts for
the last few days, but I am again at work and trying to get ‘The Dodds’
out of Baden. I hope you like it, and that the characters appear to you
each marked and distinguished.
“Politically we are expecting great things, for if any breach of the
peace occurs in Europe, all Italy will be in arms against the Austrians
in twenty-four hours.”
_To Mr Alexander Spencer_.
“Florence, _June_ 25, 1853.
“Charlie has just reached us in perfect health and spirits, and already
told us of all your kindness to him, and at a time, too, when your
anxieties were so deeply engaged about your own boy. My best wishes go
with him, and I fervently trust he may meet fortune and happiness in the
world beyond the seas,--for, indeed, I can no longer see what is open
to any of us in this quarter. Could I recall twenty years of life I’d
emigrate tomorrow.
“I find Charlie greatly grown and in full strength and vigour, but I am
sorely puzzled as to his future; and in reality in this old system
of Latin and Greek education I neither perceive any impulse given to
intellectual development, nor any solid groundwork of knowledge. I
follow it, however, as I would go with a current. _Voilà tout!_
“I have had four days of bad gout--stomach and knees alternately
attacked. I’m now better, though terribly depressed and very weak.
“We are in all the anxieties of a great crisis, and every one asks,
Shall we have war? I believe Russia has advanced to the present position
in full reliance that we and France never can act in concert, and bases
all her hopes on racial and irreconcilable grudges. If we do agree,
certes nothing can resist us; but the hypothetical ‘if’ is all the
question. I enclose this hurriedly to go with a M’Glashan packet of
‘Jasper.’”
_To Mr Alexander Spencer._
“Spezzia, _Aug_. 22, 1853.
“Your letter reached me in the very nick of a negotiation of which
Charley was the object. The Messrs Sandell, the Engineers to whom the
Tuscan and some other of the Italian railroads have been conceded, have
made me an offer to take him as a pupil and make him a C.E. I hesitated
when first the proposition reached me, and I thought it was possible he
might possess talents likely to win college honours and distinction,
and make a fair chance of what follows on them. I find that this is less
likely than I had believed; that his natural indolence requires the spur
of a personal interest to stimulate it,--and this probably a real career
may effect. He certainly likes the notion greatly, and appears as if
the choice was really what he himself would have made. I accepted,
therefore, and he does not return to Ireland. God grant that I may have
done wisely what I have done maturely and after much reflection.
“I shall be chargeable with Charley’s expenses for two years certain;
after that I hope he will contribute to them himself. Though it was
certainly advisable he should have encountered the rough-and-tumble of
a school, yet probably I should not have incurred the great outlay had I
anticipated only this opening. However, it may be all for the best.
“In my career through life I have made what are popularly called many
valuable acquaintances, but I can safely aver that I could not to-morrow
get my son made a policeman or letter-carrier, with all my fine friends
and titled associates, and the offer of Messrs Sandell is the one
solitary instance of a kindness in this wise I have ever met with. From
what Mr S. tells me, I shall have to pay something like a hundred per
annum for a couple of years. He will be stationed in Italy at various
places, and Cha. will be at his headquarters, wherever that may be.
“J. Sandell is a pupil of Stevenson, and reputed to be a man of great
knowledge of his profession. His offer to me was spontaneous and made
in the most flattering manner, so that, everything considered, I should
feel that I was not doing a prudent thing to reject it.
“Cha. tells me that Guillemand at the most can only take a quarter’s
salary for want of a previous notice of withdrawal, but I should deem
him exceedingly shabby if he wanted _that_....
“We are here boating and bathing and swimming and salting ourselves all
day long. It is the most enjoyable spot of the most enjoyable land, and
we have a house five miles distant from any other, on the edge of the
sea, and approachable only by boat. I cannot, however, write a line, for
our whole time is spent on the water. What’s to be done with K. J. and
Mrs D., Heaven knows!
“I suppose you may have seen Maxwell. He is, or ought to be, in
Ireland by this time. This affair of Charles was only decided upon this
afternoon, and I don’t lose a post in letting you know about it.
“I am greatly pleased at your opinion of ‘The Dodds,’ since through all
its absurdity of incident and situation I have endeavoured to convey
whatever I know of life and the world. I by no means intend to endorse
as my own every judgment of K. J., but I mean that many of his remarks
are, so far as I am capable of saying, just and correct, and when he
does blunder, it is only for the sake of preserving that species of
characteristic which should take off any appearance of dogmatism or
pretension when speaking of more important subjects.
“As to the [? criticism] about foreigners and the Continent generally,
I assure you I have not the courage to tell the things that have come
under my own notice, while foreign notions of England are equally, if
not more, ridiculous. I am quite prepared to hear ‘genteel people’ call
K. J. very low and his family vulgar, but if so, I am consoled by the
fact that it has touched the sore places in some snobbish nature; and
in all ranks and conditions of our countrymen snobbery is the great
prevailing vice. I am meanwhile amusing myself jotting down on paper the
things which have so often afforded me real fun to contemplate in the
world,--and so far from high colouring, my great effort is to tone down
the picture to the sombre tints of verisimilitude and probability.”
In October the weather made boating a somewhat dangerous pastime. In
reply to M’Glashan’s stereotyped complaint that Lever was “huddling
his castastrophes,” the novelist playfully replied that “a smashing
Levanter” had half-filled his boat with water one day, and “all but
closed the career of the author of ‘Sir Jasper Carew’ without a
huddle.” He begged M’Glashan to give himself a breathing-time, to
clear his head by inhaling some fresh Italian air, to visit Florence and
discuss with the author of ‘Sir Jasper’ the best means of putting the
hero to bed. But M’Glashan could not be inveigled into the paying of a
visit to the novelist; nor could he be induced to furnish Lever with
the long letters which at one time had helped to keep him in touch with
literary life in Ireland and elsewhere. The fact was that M’Glashan was
beginning to break down.
_To Mr Alexander Spencer_.
“Florence, _Nov_. 24, 1853.
“A very strange, but I fear impracticable, offer has come to me from the
United States, which I have sent to O’Sullivan for his counsel, to be
then forwarded to John....
“Meanwhile--and to be in a measure prepared for the future--I want you
to do a bit of diplomacy for me. My story of ‘Carew’ will finish
in March, when ‘The Dodds’ also will close; and as Chapman & Hall
contemplate the new issue of my older books, I suspect they will not be
disposed to engage me contemporaneously with a new work, so that I shall
be suddenly without any engagement in London or Dublin. What I want is,
therefore, that you should sound M’Glashan as to a new serial story,--to
be published by him both in the Magazine and in monthly numbers, as he
did with ‘O’Malley,’ and _with my name_. I want the thing done adroitly,
as if the notion originated with you, and so that, if he approved,
you could then suggest it to me. If he said Yes, we could then talk of
terms. At all events, you could say that an offer of American origin had
been made to me, and if this (the serial) could be managed, _you_ would
rather have it than the Transatlantic project.”
_To Mr Alexander Spencer_
“Hôtel d’Odessa, Spezzia, _Dec_ 20, 1853.
“You write (as I am accustomed to feel) soberly and seriously. But there
is this difference between us: you have borne the heavy burden of a long
life of labour with noble earnestness and self-denial; I have, on the
contrary, only to look back upon great opportunities neglected and fair
abilities thrown away, capacity wasted, and a whole life squandered.
Yet if it were not for the necessity that has kept me before the world,
perhaps I should have sunk down wearied and exhausted long ago: but as
the old clown in the circus goes on grinning and grimacing even when the
chalk won’t hide his wrinkles, so do I make a show of light-heartedness
I have long ceased to feel, or, what is more, to wish for!
“If I had the choice given me I’d rather be forsaken by my creditors
than remembered by my friends.
“I am glad you like ‘Carew.’ It was more than pleasant to me to write
it. What a strange confession, is it not?--as though saying that when
an author came to take pleasure in his own book, he was reduced to the
condition of a bear who loved sucking his own paw.
“We have come here to pass the winter, for though intrinsically little
cheaper than Florence, as we are all driven to a hotel, we have got rid
of horses and stable expenses altogether. Our economy up to this has
not done much, but even a little seems to encourage, and I suppose that
thrift is one of those remedies that requires to be introduced gradually
into the system.
“I scribble a great deal--political hash amongst the rest--but not very
profitable, for whatever is done without name is nearly always done
without money. ‘Garibaldi,’ however, brought me about £50.
“Don’t bore yourself writing to me; but, if you like, let me write to
you. I have plenty--too much--time on my hands, and it is about the
last pleasure left me to commune with one who, though he has known me so
long, still loves me.
“Charles is working hard away at his new trade, and likes it. His
masters, the Messrs Sandell, have built a large foundry, and make all
the materials of the rail.”
_To Mr Alexander Spencer_.
“Casa Capponi, Florence, _Jan._ 23, 1854.
“I am fully aware how difficult--impossible I might say--it is to obtain
any reply to any demand from M’Glashan, and am therefore not impatient
on that score. Besides that, from his repeated remonstrances and
complaints about ‘Carew’ lately, I am more than disenchanted to renew my
connection with him.
“I hope soon again to be at work on something new for Chapman & Hall.
“John and Anne give me the only good news I ever heard of ‘Sir Jasper’;
but even were it worse than I like to believe, it can scarcely call for
the criticisms M’G. forwards me. I really wrote it painstakingly and
carefully, and, so far as in me lies, I try to do honestly with him.
“I have done nothing but feast and dance and other tomfooleries these
last three weeks, for it is our Carnival; and to help me out of my
slender exchequer, the Duke of Wellington has been here on a visit to
us!”
_To Mr Alexander Spencer._
“Florence, _Oct_. 1864.
“Read the article I have written on Sardinia and Austria in the
forthcoming number of the Magazine. It is a bold suggestion,--but it
has met such high sanction already in Piedmont, and has appeared in a
translation at Turin, whither I sent it. Lord J. Russell is here,--I
have dined with him twice,--and he comes to me on Saturday. He is very
silent and reserved, but of course this is all essential to one
whose chance expressions are eagerly caught at--happy if they be not
misrepresented.”
‘Maurice Tiernay’ and ‘Sir Jasper Carew’ were issued as volumes of the
Parlour Library, nothing appearing on the title-pages to indicate that
these two excellent works of fiction came from the pen of Charles Lever.
The author’s reason for preserving anonymity sprang from a fear--not
unwarrantable--that the public might get the idea in its head that he
was “over-writing.” His red-wrappered monthly-part novels had now become
a kind of institution in the book trade, and anything that would tend to
depreciate the circulation of them was to be carefully avoided.
‘The Dodd Family’ had arrived at its serial end in April, and was
published in book form; and Chapman & Hall had agreed to issue its
successor, ‘The Martins of Cro-Martin.’ Lever was still endeavouring
to make a bargain with ‘The Dublin University’ for a new serial. He was
wavering about an American expedition, and Mr Chapman was all the
while advocating a cheap reissue of his novels. These arrangements and
projects afforded the novelist some mental relief, and he found himself
able to attack his work with _verve_. In sending to M’Glashan the
skeleton of a plot for his proposed Magazine serial, he described
himself as labouring “with the zeal of an apostle and the sweat of a
galley-slave.” His fitful mind was disturbed presently by a rumour which
reached him in July. It was whispered that ‘The Dublin University’
would shortly be in the market. He wrote at once to Spencer asking this
much-enduring man to institute inquiries. There was nothing he would not
sacrifice in order to obtain possession of the periodical. If he had it
in his hands again, he was confident that he would be able to retain it
and to make a good property of it. But the rumour--arising possibly out
of a suspicion that M’Glashan was breaking down--proved to be premature.
Lever had contemplated a visit to Ireland during the spring. Having
decided to lay the scene of his next novel in Ireland, he was anxious
for “atmosphere.” Late in July he set out from Casa Capponi, and
M’Glashan received one morning an invitation to meet him at his hotel in
Dublin. The novelist found his admonisher in a low state of spirits,
and he exerted himself to rouse him from his despondency. To a certain
extent he must have succeeded, for a nephew of Lever, who dined with the
pair at the Imperial Hotel in Dublin, declares that it was “a roar of
fun from beginning to end.” Lorrequer was in most brilliant form, and
even the waiters might have been observed rushing from the dining-room
endeavouring to stifle their laughter.
Lever spent the time gaily in Dublin--reviving old friendships and
making new friends, listening to good stories and telling better ones.
Amongst the old friends was M. J. Barry, who had been one of the most
valued contributors to ‘The Dublin University.’ He told Barry that
Florence was the ideal place for the literary man; that he himself lived
there for about £1200 a-year* in a style which could not be adopted in
London on £3000 a-year, or in Ireland for any sum. He owned that his
tastes and habits were extravagant: his mode of life, he explained, was
not merely a case of luxurious inclinations, but one of necessity. “It
feeds my lamp,” he said, “which would die out otherwise. My receptions
are my studies. I find there characters, and I pick up a thousand things
that are to me invaluable. You can’t keep drawing wine off the cask
perpetually and putting nothing in it.”
* It is impossible to arrive at any definite conclusions
concerning Lever’s earnings from his writings. It is certain
that during some years his annual income was not less than
£2000. If the whole of the period from ‘Harry Lorrequer’ in
1837 to ‘Lord Kilgobbin’ in 1871; was taken into account, his
estimate of £1200 a-year would not be very far astray. It is
most likely an under-estimate. £60,000 would probably
represent more accurately the sum of his literary earnings.
--E. D.
Amongst his entertainers in Dublin was the Viceregal Court. His
_vis-à-vis_ at a dinner at the Viceregal Lodge was Sir Bernard Burke,
the Ulster King-at-Arms. The remainder of the company was interested
merely in military affairs or Court functions. No one at the table
seemed to care whether the Irish humourist spoke or was silent--no one
there was interested in such a paltry entity as a mere man of intellect;
so Lever, the life and soul of Florentine salons, preserved silence for
most of the evening. When he did join in the conversation, he happened
to venture an opinion that Sebastopol would not be taken for at least
another year, and this resulted in his having to incur “as much ridicule
as was consistent with viceregal politeness to bestow, and the small
wit of small AD.C.’s to inflict.” So far as he was concerned, this
dinner-party was a dismal affair: it recalled some equally dismal
dinner-parties, or receptions, at the grand-ducal court of Baden.
Apparently Lever made no headway in Dublin with the matter of the
Magazine, but his visit to Ireland refreshed and invigorated him. The
sight of Irish faces and of Irish scenery and the sound of Irish voices
dissipated some Florentine languorousness, and enabled him to set to
work spiritedly at his new novel, ‘The Martins.’
During the autumn of 1854 he submitted to M’Glashan a proposal for an
interesting series of papers--“Stories of the Ruined Houses of Ireland.”
Nothing came of this. Towards the end of the year he contributed some
further papers on Italian politics to ‘The Dublin University.’ One upon
Sardinia and Austria created some attention in Italy, and a translation
was published in Turin. English politics and foreign politics, viewed
from the British standpoint, were affording him keen interest, and he
had the privilege of discussing them under his own roof with a very
distinguished personage, the Lord President of the Council, Lord John
Russell.
Thoughts of entering Parliament were again crossing Lever’s mind at
this period; but his best friends, notably his brother John, sought
to dissuade him from embarking upon a career which, for a man of his
temperament, would be full of pitfalls, and would in all likelihood end
in Nowhere.