For many years Lever had been engaged in rough passages-at-arms with the Catholic Church militant in Ireland, and though he was by no means a bigoted Anti-Romanist, he regarded “the priest in politics” as a highly dangerous factor. It is greatly to the credit of Miss Edgeworth’s sense of proportion, and to her level-headedness and her acumen, that she saw that if Charles Lever made “priestcraft” his pivot, he would be tempted to outstrip the limits of fair-play in fiction. And it is creditable to Lever that he was so easily dissuaded from undertaking the novel in which the Irish priesthood—then his sworn foe—was to figure as the conglomerate villain of the piece. No doubt the book which Lever had in his mind was one which he proposed to his Dublin publisher, James M’Glashan, giving it the provisional title of ‘Corrig O’Neill.’ Some of the material for this abandoned novel he used in ‘The Daltons,’ in which the Abbé D’Esmonde has a prominent part, though this ecclesiastic’s intriguing (which is almost purely political) has little concern with affairs Hibernian.
To Miss Edgeworth.
“Riedenburg, Bregenz, Lac De Constance, April 6, 1847.
“My dear Miss Edgeworth,—I am not quite certain that in now thanking you—and thank you I do most cordially and gratefully—for your kind letter, I am not imitating the obtrusive and old-fashioned politeness of people who will not slip away without saying the ‘good nights.’ Not even the fear of being classed with these rococos, however, shall prevent me from saying how I feel the extreme good-nature that dictated your delightful letter, and I now see—I own I never did see so clearly till now—the difficulties of my new story, and in your warnings I already read the censure, anticipatory as it is, of the very faults I should inevitably have committed. I do not fear, indeed, that I should have fallen into any imitation of Eugene Sue—for whose genius I entertain nothing like the admiration I feel for Balzac’s, and for whose false morality and no principle I have a hearty contempt; but I do feel that my prejudices might have easily led me away to father on my priest evils, social and political, which in all likelihood he could never have been answerable for, and, in my anxiety to make out my case, prove too much.
“I am, then, if not deterred, at least checked as to the projected story, and will not adventure on it without more thought and reflection. Perhaps the tone towards Ireland at this moment is not very favourable to such portraiture: indeed, I am told that anything Irish is an ungracious theme to English ears just now, and I am reminded of the man who could never laugh at Liston, for remembering that the actor owed him ten pounds.
“If I fear to ask, I hope no less that my ‘Knight’ holds his place in your good opinion. I am aware that some of the late numbers introduce the reader to less agreeable companionship than is always pleasant, but I felt that the tableland was too even and unbroken, and that strong contrasts were needed to relieve some of the uniformity, even at the hazard of damaging my picture by false keeping. After all, there is nothing so bad as being tiresome, and I can see that this dread evil was spreading over my story. Heavens knows if, endeavouring to avert it, I have not made bad worse!
“I am not unreasonable enough to ask you to write to me again—but this much I will say, that I know of no favour for which I am more grateful, nor for any kindness on which I set such store, as a letter from Miss Edgeworth.”
This letter seems to have closed the correspondence. In May 1849 Miss Edgeworth died at the advanced age of eighty-three years.