“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.