Charles Lever, His Life in His Letters, Vol. I

by Charles James Lever

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.’