To Mr John Blackwood.
“33 Brook Street, London, May 12,1869.
“I cannot tell you how I feel the disappointment of not seeing you here, and my regret is all the deeper for the cause of your absence. I thoroughly know besides how you yourself regard a position which, while you are powerless for all good, leaves you still unable to quit it. I fervently hope that your poor brother may rally, and that I may soon hear better tidings of him. In the turmoil and movement around me I always feel like a man the day after a hard drinking-bout, my head aching, my senses confused, my memory shaken, and through all a sort of shame that this is not my place at all, and that I am wastefully squandering my hard-got half-crowns to the detriment of my family. On the other side of the picture I find great kindness and great courtesy, a number of agreeable people to talk to, and the only women I have seen for a long while who, to be pleasant, do not need to be made love to. We have been greatly asked out, and some of my old friends have vied with each other in kindness to my daughters.
“Lord L.* proposes our passing next week at Knebworth, and the idea has something tempting, but I suspect if you are not likely to come up, I shall scarcely delay here, but make a straight run home, from which my last accounts are far from reassuring.
* A story is told of this visit. The Consul, on his arrival
in England, called upon Lord Lytton. The two novelists
chatted for some time, and at length Lytton said, “I’m so
glad for many reasons to see you here. You will have an
opportunity presently of meeting your chief, Clarendon. I
expect him every moment.” Lever was aghast. He recollected
that he had left Trieste without obtaining formal “leave.”
He endeavoured to excuse himself to Lytton (who was now very
deaf): he had to be off to meet his daughters. While he was
apologising for his hurried decision to say good-bye, the
Minister for Foreign Affairs was announced. “Ah, Mr Lever,”
said Lord Clarendon, “I didn’t know that you had left
Trieste.” “No, my lord,” stammered Lever, unable for the
moment to see how he was going to get out of the difficulty.
“The fact is, I thought it would be more respectful if I
came and asked your lordship personally for leave.”
Possibly this anecdote is of the “ben trovato” order.—E. D.
“My old friend Seymour is with us every day with plans for amusement.
“To turn to other matters, I have a couple of half finished O’Ds. which, if you like to print, I shall have time to lick into shape. I went yesterday to the ‘House’ to see if my countryman the Mayor of Cork might not furnish matter for an O’Dowd, but the whole was flat and wearisome.”
To Mr William Blackwood.
“Knebworth, May 18, 1869.
“Half stupid with a cold, and shaken by the worst cough I ever had in my life, I send you an O’D., part of which I read to your uncle, and indeed wrote after a conversation with him. I hope it has more go in it than the man who wrote it.