During his first year in Florence Lever made the acquaintance of Miss Mary Boyle, a daughter of Admiral Sir Courtenay Boyle. This clever lady had published some verses and tales. She was a friend of Tennyson, of Dickens, of the Brownings,* of G. P. R. James, and of other literary people of note.
* Mrs Browning describes Miss Boyle in one of her letters to
Miss Mitford. “A kinder, more cordial little creature, fall
of talent and accomplishment, never had the world’s polish
upon it. Very amusing, too, she is, and original, and a good
deal of laughing she and Robert make between them.”—E. D.
In announcing the birth of his youngest daughter to Miss Boyle, Lever styles the baby “another volume added to the domestic history in the duodecimo shape of a daughter.... The necessity of quiet,” he adds, “the pleasing features of this little place, and the utter dulness of Florence, drove us here. What with horses and dogs and newspapers, books to write and a baby to wait for, our winter has gone over most pleasantly. We had no tramontane wind, no tea-parties, no morning concerts.”
In a letter written in 1879, Miss Boyle gives an interesting description of the Irish humourist. She recalls him as “one of the most genial spirits” she had ever met. “His conversation was like summer lightning—brilliant, sparkling, harmless. In his wildest sallies I never heard him give utterance to an unkind thought. He essentially resembled his works, and whichever you preferred, that one was most like Charles Lever. He was the complete type and model of an Irishman—warm-hearted, witty, rollicking, never unrefined, imprudent, often blind to his own interests—adored by his friends, and the playfellow of his children and the gigantic boar-hound he had brought from the Tyrol.”
Miss Boyle relates a characteristic anecdote of her highly-lauded friend. One afternoon at her house, where Lever was introduced to Lord and Lady Spencer, the hostess took up a volume of Bret Harte’s works, and read aloud one of the parodies of popular authors, selecting the skit in which Lorrequer’s early manner is most funnily burlesqued. Lever enjoyed the recitation, laughing heartily as his tormentor proceeded. He was asked if he could name the author whose work was parodied. “Upon my soul!” said he, “I must have written it myself—it’s so like me.”
To Mr Alexander Spencer.
“Bagni di Lucca, Feb. 14, 1849.
“Chapman and I, without any formal document, have already come to an understanding respecting the [? copyrights], should we be successful in obtaining the books. There will be many points to arrange finally between us,—some of them nice ones,—inasmuch that of ‘O’Leary’ I possess the sole copyright; but from his previous honourable dealings and his general character for fairness, I anticipate no difficulty whatever in establishing a perfectly just and equitable transaction. For my future advantage I should rather that Chapman had these copyrights in his hands, even though I never were to benefit one shilling by their sale, because it secures to me—what in these eventful and changing times is of paramount importance—a permanent demand for my labour. Hence my anxiety, hence all my eagerness, that he and not another should be the purchaser.
“My wife and baby are doing most favourably. The latter promises to be the prettiest of the lot, and the others are growing up handsome. Julia is very nearly as tall as myself, and a fine and high-spirited happy-minded girl. Charley promises to be very clever, and Pussy—No 3—a most gifted child, requiring all our care to keep her faculties from running wild.
“We are in full revolution here. The Grand Duke has fled. The usual farce of a provisional government elected: forced loans—bankruptcy—brigandage, are all at work, and we look for pillage and the barricades. But somehow, like eels getting used to be skinned, one begins nowadays to get indifferent to carnage and rapine, and to think that grape and canister are among the compliments of the season.