"I have been told that in the character of Linton I have exaggerated wickedness beyond all belief. I am sorry to reply that I made but a faint copy of him who suggested that personage, and who lives and walks the stage of life as I write. One or two persons-not more-who know him whose traits furnished the picture, are well aware that I have neither overdrawn my sketch, nor exaggerated my drawing."

Lever's power, as evinced up to this stage of his career, was dioramic rather than dramatic. In his constantly shifting scenes we find a kaleidoscope of sparkling adventure unpremeditated in the shape they are likely to take, but wonderfully bright when they come. More dramatic strength is visible from the birth of "Roland Cashel," in which deadly passions plot and work. If not at all times faultlessly artistic, his handiwork is always vivid. Like a true surgeon as he was, he had a lady's hand with a lion's heart. With practice he attained confidence, and every new success strengthened his hand. He could manipulate and manage the most tender emotions; and, at the same time, grapple with the strongest passions of Nature; and it was well remarked by the Times, that he continued to tone his subjects and his style down to his years; and so as his "admirers grew older, like himself, he carried the mass of them along with him. Indeed, the men who roared over 'O'Malley' are now, for the most part, lean and slippered, but as strong in love for their early friend as ever."

MISS BOYLE'S RECOLLECTIONS.

157

"Roland Cashel," published in 1849, was dedicated to G. P. R. James, who had previously inscribed a pleasant tale to Lever. The latter, with his usual modesty, presented "Roland" to James on the plea of that classic authority who, in the interchange of armour, gave "Brass for Gold." This was not the only Roland which Lever gave for James's Oliver. There was a perpetual interchange of bright compliments between them. The recollections of Miss Mary Boyle, whom Lord Spencer, later on, speaks of as "his cousin who enjoyed the friendship of Lever," furnish pleasant testimony on this point, as well as useful biographic detail.

"I first made acquaintance with Chas. Lever at Florence in 1848. My friend Mr. James had written to me and my mother urging us to do so. 'One of the most genial spirits I ever met,' he wrote, '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, don't make acquaintance with the author,' would have been mistimed as regards him. He essentially resembled his works, and whichever you preferred, that one was most like Chas. 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 playfellow of his children and the gigantic boar-hound he had brought from the Tyrol. He told me with great gusto how, on one occasion riding

with all his children in the glory of their Tyrolese hats, with peacock-feathers, they had been taken for a company of hippodrome riders, and accosted with the view to an engagement. He was an admirable actor, and resided in the Casa Standish on the walls at Florence, which contained a charming little theatre. We had constant dramatic representations. His impersonation of 'The Irish Tutor' was inimitable. I had the honour of playing Mary to his Dr. O'Toole," and I certainly thought our 'jig' would have proved everlasting, so prolonged was it at the wish of the audience. His countenance, his whole frame was alive and aglow with expression, and the 'slight taste of the brogue,' was essentially musical from his lips. He loved a joke even at his own expense. One evening at 5 o'clock tea, at my house, where he met Lord and Lady Spencer, I took up a volume of Bret Harte† and read aloud to him part of a parody on a popular author,' where the Irish officer's horse at Waterloo clears the general's cocked hat and feathers, and 'that was the first time I found myself in the presence of the Duke of Wellington.' I then asked him if he could name the author from the style, and, with one of his ringing laughs, which always proved contagious, he said, 'Upon my soul I must have written that myself-it is so like me.' "As I write, my heart is full of tender memories for the friend I have lost!"

* Vide p. 13, vol. ii., ante.

† See p. 422, infra, for an extract by way of sample.

Letter of Miss M. Boyle, Venice, April the 21st, 1879.

HIS CHANGE OF STYLE.

159

Miss Mitford's letters at this time make frequent reference to Lever. "I should be delighted to see him," she writes. "You know I have always had a mannish sort of fancy for those 'O'Malley' and 'Jack Hinton' books, which always put me in good spirits and good-humour (I wish he wrote so now); and I remember, most gratefully, the pleasure his books gave to my father."

Lever's change of style, noticed by Miss Mitford, was first discernible in "Roland Cashel." Thenceforth we find more gravity and dignity, with less of the rollicking fun of boyhood in his books. It may be said that with "Roland" he bridged the gulf between the earlier and later series. Liston sighed to think that London mistook his talent, which he fancied lay in tragedy. Two great low comedians of our own day are found to be still greater in tragic rôles; and Lever fancied that he had made a similar discovery after he had been hammering away for ten years on the ringing anvil of loud farce.

Physicians are unanimous in condemning as unwholesome mental exertion after meals: but doctors of medicine, as of divinity, do not always practise what they preach. Lever generally went to work after breakfast, and laboured from ten till two o'clock, when he joined the children at dinner, and then rode, drove, walked and talked. The late dinner had been ordered from the menu regularly furnished to him at the breakfast table. It was an elaborate affair, full of joy to the epicure but Lever never made a god of his stomach.

When describing his visit to Venice in 1847, he speaks with aversion" of those who could not stop to behold a splendid sunset, because dinner was waiting, and the soup would be cold, and who are afraid to venture out in the evening lest they might catch rheumatic gout."* A work on the "Domestic Economics of Foreign Residence " was projected in 1850. He knew something of the matter, he said, to his cost, and he thought that the subject would not be uninteresting, as so many go abroad for cheapness. This book never saw the light.

Overtures from McGlashan, in 1850, to renew old relations with Lever, were hailed by the latter with great pleasure, and reminded him of Auld Lang Syne, when hope was fresher with both. It was arranged that a new tale, called "Maurice Tierney," should be supplied in monthly instalments, but Lever declined to write a memoir of Samuel Lover for divers reasons-needless to detail the ninety-ninth reason, he said, which Governor Gomm gave for not saluting the garrison was-they had no powder!

Would Lever, then, furnish-sub rosa-a memoir of himself, to be utilized by another hand? To this suggestion he was equally opposed. Not that his crave of praise would be too gross even for his own taste, as he explained; but he could not enter into any defence of his motives and intentions in his portraiture of Irish character, without betraying his identity and showing * "D. U. M.,” p. 89, vol. xxx.