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

by Charles James Lever

James Lever sent his second son to school when the youth was only four years of age. Charles’s first preceptor was one Ford, who had a habit of flogging his pupils with almost as much ferocity as John Claudius Beresford flogged the children of the larger growth at his Marlborough Green Academy. Ford’s school was broken up suddenly. The father of a child who had been subjected to a severe handling paid a surprise visit to the school, and, seizing the offending birch-rod, he flogged the pedagogue with such violence that Mr Ford “rushed into the street, yelling.” After this débâcleyoung Lever was introduced to Florence McCarthy, whose school was situated at 56 William Street. McCarthy is said to have been “an accomplished man with a fine presence.” He had been a student at Trinity College, but as he belonged to the proscribed faith he was debarred from taking a scholarship. It speaks volumes for James Lever’s liberal-minded-ness that he should have sent his son to a school presided over by a Roman Catholic. The future author of ‘Harry Lorrequer’ is described at this period as being a handsome fair-haired boy, noted for his tendency to indulge in practical joking.

Writing to his brother in Lancashire during the year 1812, James Lever says: “Charles is at school, and is full of mischief as ever you were, and resembles you much in his tricks.” A couple of years later Mr Lever reports Charles as “a very fine boy now—eight years old last September. I think to make him an architect.” Possibly with a view to this, the father took his son from Florence McCarthy’s school and sent him to the academy of “a noted mathematician.” William O’Callaghan, of 113 Abbey Street. Here Charles Lever met John Ottiwell, who was later to be one of his models for Frank Webber. Ottiwell, who was some years older than Lever, was the boyish beau-ideal of a hero: he rode, swam, fenced, composed songs and sang them, was a clever ventriloquist, and played the wildest of pranks.

When Lever was eleven years of age he paid a visit to his cousins the Inneses, who lived at Inistiogue in the Co. Kilkenny. He attended the classes of the tutor who was instructing his cousins, a Mr James Cotterall, “schoolmaster and land-surveyor.” Cotterall was the son of a well-to-do farmer, and had received an excellent training in Catholic colleges in Ireland and on the Continent.

On his return to Dublin he was sent to “The Proprietary School,” Great Denmark Street. The head of this establishment was the Rev. George Newenham Wright, a gentleman who was almost as free with the birch as Mr Ford had been. His suffering pupils eventually discovered a weak point in his armour—namely, that he had broken down sadly in his examination in the Greek Testament when seeking for holy orders. When Wright was made aware that his pupils had heard of his deficiency in classical knowledge he grew tamer. But though he was a bad Greek scholar and a tyrant, the Rev. Mr Wright was by no means a bad teacher. He appears to have had a great liking for Lever, and the youth seems to have entertained a liking and a respect for his master. At Great Denmark Street the pupils were coached in other matters beside classics and mathematics. After the ordinary curriculum of the school had been gone through, young Lever took lessons in fencing and dancing, and won distinction in those arts. His father, writing at this period to Lancashire, says: “Charles is still at school. I don’t know what to make of him;... he is a very smart fellow.”

As his business grew, James Lever found himself advancing in social paths. He was fond of good company, and of this there was a plenitude in Dublin. The commercial depression which followed the union of the parliaments, though it had undermined many of the city’s sources of wealth, tarnished its brilliancy, and destroyed its life as a political capital, had not succeeded in crushing the high spirits of the citizens. Many of the guests who enjoyed the hospitality of James Lever had suffered sadly from the political and other changes which had occurred in the early years of the nineteenth century, but they could still enjoy a good dinner and a good story, and could appreciate a good host. Much of the conversation which took place at Lever’s supper or dinner-parties was of the brilliant era immediately preceding the Union. Tales of the Parliament House, of its orators, its wits, its eccentrics; reminiscences of the clubs, anecdotes of duelling and drinking and hard riding, went the round of the table; and as a mere child the future author of ‘Charles O’Malley’ listened now and again to hilarious gossip which he moulded later into hilarious fiction.

Mrs Lever was an excellent housewife,—very tidy, very orderly, and deeply devoted to her husband and to her two children. She is described as a pleasant coquettish little woman, whose sole desire was to make every one in her circle happy. Charles Lever’s early days were spent in a bright and cheerful home—an inestimable blessing to any youth, but especially to an imaginative boy. He did not stand much in awe of his good-humoured parents: he was by no means shy of playing upon them mild practical jokes. One of these—it was frequently repeated, yet it never seemed to miss fire—was to read aloud the details of some wonderful event supposed to be recorded in a newspaper, leaving his father and mother to discover at their leisure that the wonderful event was a coinage of Charlie’s brain.

During his schooldays he had a theatre of his own at the back of the house: he produced stock pieces—“Bombastes Furioso” was one of his favourites—and improvised dramas. He painted the necessary scenery, designed the costumes, was the leading actor, and occasionally his own orchestra. As much of his pocket-money as he could spare, after satisfying the demands upon it for theatrical pursuits, was expended on books—chiefly novels. In addition to this love of literature and the drama, young Lever evinced at a very early age a fondness for military heroes and military affairs. Occasionally military men were to be encountered under his father’s roof, and at times the youth was to be found haunting some convenient barrack. James Lever had expressed a desire that his second son should become an architect, but he was not infrequently fearful that the lad might one fine morning take it into his wild head to seek the bubble reputation even in the cannon’s mouth. Charles, however, decided, in his sixteenth year, that he would not become an architect or a soldier. He was desirous of qualifying for the medical or the legal profession; and his father, although he was anxious that his son should take up his own business, made no protest against the selection of a more learned avocation. On October 14, 1822, Charles Lever entered Trinity College, Dublin,* as a pensioner, taking up his quarters at No. 2 Botany Bay Square. His college chum was Robert Torrens Boyle.

* Lever’s writing-table and study-chair are kept in the
librarian’s room at Trinity College. They were presented to
the University in 1874 by Lever’s eldest daughter, Mrs
Nevill—E. D.

They played almost as many pranks in Trinity as Charles O’Malley and Webber* played there; but though he was the leading spirit in all the mischief that was afoot, young Lever was never guilty of any discreditable conduct or of any personal excesses. One might be led to think, in reading his early novels, that their author had been a wild liver; but it is stated on trustworthy authority that at no period was he otherwise than moderate in the use of stimulants. He is described as being, during his college era, tall, athletic, and mercurial, with wonderfully expressive eyes, sometimes flashing fire, sometimes twinkling with mirth. Notwithstanding his love of fun and frolic he found time for reading—light reading as well as heavy reading. In later years he speaks of the days when he was a freshman: “We talked of ‘Ivan-hoe’ or ‘Kenilworth,’ and I can remember too, when the glorious spirit of these novels had so possessed us, that we were elevated and warmed to an unconscious imitation of the noble thoughts and deeds of which we had been reading.” This boyish enthusiasm, he goes on to say, was better than the spirit of mockery engendered by the insensate craving for stimulus which was produced by the reading of sensation stories. “The glorious heroism of Scott’s novels was a fine stream to turn into the turbid waters of our worldliness. It was of incalculable benefit to give men even a passing glance of noble devotion, of high-hearted courage, and unsullied purity.” His admiration of Sir Walter Scott’s romances, and his contempt for “sensational novels,” remained with him to the end.

* Frank Webber was an amalgam of Boyle and of John Ottiwell
(who had been the Trinity chum of Charles Lever’s brother,
John).—E. D.