Volume I Part 23 (1/2)
”Riedenburg, Bregenz, Lac De Constance, _Jan_. 28, 1847.
”Dear Madam,--Your letter is now before me, and although I can fancy how tired you are of _my_ grat.i.tude, I am never weary of telling you how much I feel _your_ kindness. As a manager returns thanks for the _dramatis persona_ of his corps, I beg to repeat mine for Miss Darcy, Daly, Freney, and Co.,* who, I beseech you to believe, have derived any spirit of life they possess from the genial breath of your encouragements. Like the 'Bourgeois Gentilhomme,' who spoke prose without knowing, I find I really had a story to tell, and, however late came the knowledge, your criticism set me about seeing how best to do it.
* Characters in 'The Knight of Gwynne.'--E. D.
”Pray accept my excuses for what must have been a very bungling expression in my last note, and which has caused you an apprehension that, although only momentary, I am sincerely sorry for,--sorry, I will own not only on your account, but on my own--my _amour propre_, having no more tender point than the dread of being a bore. I never intended to inflict my MS. on you, for after some ninety-nine good and sufficient reasons comes the hundredth,--I never wrote more at any time than was sufficient for the monthly call of my printers, and that only at the spur of the emergency. In taking what I felt to be the great liberty of asking your counsel, I had still a sense of moderation for an author, and would not worry you by what is called a sketch. Indeed, it is your opinion as to the _intention_ of the tale I would sue for, and your judgment of how far the story seems suited to such a hand as mine,--whether in itself it contains enough of romantic and dramatic element to be a good theme to work out.
”And now _a l'ouvrage!_ It occurred to me when attached to a British Emba.s.sy to learn that the whole scheme and game of Irish politics were not only known to the members of the Roman Catholic clergy, but that they took the very deepest interest in the cause and progress of events, and, strangest of all, were informed thoroughly on all the points of social distinctions at issue amongst us--knowing the very names of such localities and obscure people as were the scenes or actors in outrage or disturbance,--were conversant with the petty details of magisterial justice, and aware of all that terrible machinery of crime which for years back has been at work in Ireland. That such knowledge should have originated in mere curiosity would be absurd to conceive; that it sprung from a deep interest in the events is far easier to see, and in some cases I even believe from a controlling, regulating power that, if not exercised to promote actual crime, yet could watch its progress and effect, withholding the opposing influences the Church could supply if she would. This, of course, is surmise, and mere surmise,--the former part I _know_. I know also that details of Irish outrage have been transmitted to Rome, not by post, but by a secret system of transmission from priest to priest, from Belgium to the Vatican, by _journees d'etapes_. This, to say the least, is very curious, but I think it is more. I believe it to be highly dangerous. I do not know whether you will smile at my fancies that the days of Hildebrand might yet be in store for us, but I feel if I were known to you personally I should scarcely be supposed likely to be regarded as an alarmist, and least of all on such grounds. My friends generally accuse me of having, from long foreign residence, a very tolerant feeling towards Romanism.
”Now, without tormenting you with any details, my idea would be to take this theme as the groundwork of a story, whose scene should lie alternatively in Ireland and abroad, the characters being home and foreign as occasion required. My priest (Machiavellian, of course) would be the _cheval de bataille_--not attempted, I need scarcely say, in any rivalry with Eugene Sue, whose vast superiority in every way as a writer refutes such a presumption, but because the object would open up a very different cla.s.s of character and interest. My people would be enlisted from various ranks and conditions of men, and afford contrasts of country as well as of individuality.
”This meagre outline it is I would ask your opinion of. Indeed, I scarce knew how shadowy and vague it was till I wrote it down here, and yet there is that _within_ it which a really strong hand might turn to account. Will you kindly say if this be the kind of material that such [? a hand] as mine could work out with interest?
”I told you I would not inflict a MS. upon you, and here I have been doing something so very like it that I am ashamed to look back. However, if you knew how much more prosy and tedious I could have been, and on the very same subject, too, you would be gratified to be let off so easily.
”My best thanks for the hints about the two books. I have already written for them. Strange enough you should have suggested Spain as a likely _locale_ for interest, at a time when I was actually meditating a visit to the Peninsula, my former chief being made Amba.s.sador at the Court of Lisbon, and having pressed me to visit him.
”Your last letter put me into such good-humour with my 'Knight,' that I set about writing a new No., and with your criticism so fully in my head, I believe I did better than at any previous stage of his monthly existence.
”There is no part of your praise I set more value on than what you observe as to the good-breeding of certain characters, for while our fas.h.i.+onable (!) writers depict ladies and gentlemen by a hundred distinctive traits of manners and taste, all evidencing the most vulgar views of life, there is another cla.s.s who love to represent every person of station as a species of moral monster, made of sensuality, deceit, and utter selfishness. If I have avoided these opposite errors, I wish I may have hit the middle course without at the same time making good manners insipid. Your praise lets me hope this, and I could not wish for a more competent authority. I need not now say with what eagerness I will read any remarks you are so kind as to make on my 'Knight.' The book only occupies any place in my esteem by reason of your opinion. If you see cause to continue it, I am but too happy to be reconciled to my unworthy offspring.
”My Tyrol stories* I have shelved for the present. They grew to be _triste_ in spite of me, so I resolved to wait for better weather and better spirits, or in other words (such as my children tell me), 'until Papa gets another pleasant letter from Miss Edge worth.'”
* Two of these tales of Tyrol, probably the only Tyrol stories written by him, were subsequently included in 'Horace Templeton.'--E. D.
For many years Lever had been engaged in rough pa.s.sages-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 ac.u.men, 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 t.i.tle of 'Corrig O'Neill.' Some of the material for this abandoned novel he used in 'The Daltons,' in which the Abbe 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-fas.h.i.+oned politeness of people who will not slip away without saying the 'good nights.' Not even the fear of being cla.s.sed 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, antic.i.p.atory 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 companions.h.i.+p 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.
X. COMO--FLORENCE--BAGNI DI LUCCA 1847-1849
Lever was now at the threshold of the most brilliant period of his career. Still in the prime of life, he was able to enjoy all the fun of the fair, and to record his impressions of men and affairs with unflagging vivacity, but with mellowed shrewdness. He neither hoped nor desired to reach again that giddy pinnacle upon which stood 'Harry Lorrequer' and 'Charles O'Malley.' He now possessed a firmer grip of character; he was more adroit in the arts of description and dialogue; and he had gained a truer insight into the workings of the human mind.
His military fever was slowly burning itself out, though he was able to fan the embers into flame when, later, he was inditing the adventures of ”Maurice Tiernay.” His sense of fantastic and boisterous humour was as strong as when he had created ”Mickey Free” and ”Corney Delany”: under firmer control it had lost much of its side-splitting qualities; yet, as one may judge from 'Con Cregan,' it was only because he held his art in high esteem that he did not, in his later period, produce another ”Lorrequer.”