CHAPTER XXIII
RESIDENCE IN FLORENCE—CHARLES LEVER—REVOLUTION, AND THE BROWNINGS
Our new residence in Florence consisted of a very pretty apartment on the ground floor of the Casa Lagerschwerd, opening on a bright little garden, which was a perfect sun-trap, and where, even on cold days, my dear mother could bask in safety. We had not been there very long ere I received a letter from our friend G. P. R. James, recommending his friend, the bearer, Charles Lever, to our especial notice.
Him he thus describes:-“One of the most genial spirits I ever met; his conversation is like summer lightning—brilliant, sparkling, but harmless. In his wildest sallies I never heard him give utterance to an unkind thought.”
The old advice, “If you like his works, do not make acquaintance with the author,” would have been misplaced as regards him. He essentially resembled his works, and whichever you preferred, that one was most like Charles Lever. He was the complete type and model of an Irishman—warm-hearted, witty, rollicking, of many metres in his pen, but never unrefined, imprudent and often blind to his own interests—adored by his friends, the play-fellow of his children and of the gigantic boar-hound he had brought from Tyrol.
LEVER’S ENTRY INTO FLORENCE
I well remember his first visit, his chivalrous, deferential manner to my mother, and the hearty, cordial way in which he claimed my friendship. He gave me a most amusing description of his entry into Florence, with his three children, two girls and a boy, with whom he had performed the journey from the Tyrol on horseback. They had spent the summer among hardy mountaineers, and had imbibed many of the tastes, and had adopted the greater part of the costume of the Tyrolese—such as the conical-shaped hat with its golden cord and peacocks’ feathers. Altogether, his appearance, with that of his young companions, followed by their brindled boar-hound, attracted great attention as they passed slowly through the Porto San Gallo. The crowd which gathered round them were impressed by the belief that they formed part of a company of a circus or hippodrome, and Charles Lever, in great glee, even assured me that he had been accosted on his road with a view to an engagement. Our first interview, on the whole, was most satisfactory, and all the more so when my new friend informed me that he had rented Casa Standish for the winter, and that he counted upon me to resume the post of prima donna, which he had heard, so ran his courteous words, “I had already filled with so much honour.”
It did not take Charles Lever long to be installed as tenant of Casa Standish, manager and lessee of the little theatre; and then began a series of rehearsals and dramatic representations, the frequent reunion of kindred spirits, the merry suppers and joyous dances in which my soul delighted. Our company was excellent, and foremost in the troupe, and in my recollection, since we generally played the two leading characters of the “Juvenile Caste,” was Captain Elliott, who, with his charming wife, was located for the time in an apartment in Piazzi Pitti. Good-looking, graceful in deportment, courteous in manner, with great flexibility of countenance, Captain Elliott was well qualified to play first lover, although he occasionally condescended to take a part in low comedy. We shared some bright laurels on several occasions, especially in two or three detached scenes from the School for Scandal, particularly in the famous Screen scene; Captain Elliott distinguished himself as “Joseph Surface,” while our host and lessee gave a decided and Irish colouring to the reckless humour of his namesake “Charles.” But the latter was still more in his element in the then favourite farce of The Irish Tutor, a part lately rendered famous by the impersonation of Tyrone Power, the best “Irishman” that ever walked, or rather tripped, the stage—he whose untimely fate made so deep an impression on the lovers of the drama, when all hope was relinquished of the safety of that vessel in which he had been a joyous passenger. Charles Lever was no unworthy rival in the character of “Doctor O’Toole,” and the jig which we danced together laid good claim to be called an “Everlasting,” its duration being so prolonged by repeated plaudits of the audience.
Dear old friend! We met twice again after a separation of many years, once, as a glad surprise, when arriving rather late for dinner, I turned round and found him as my neighbour at one of those delightful banquets at Charles Dickens’ table, where all that was eminent in Literature and Art, or endowed with social and intellectual gifts, was sure to find a place and a welcome.
I ENTERTAIN LEVER IN 1870