Charles Lever, His Life in His Letters, Vol. II

To Mr William Blackwood.

“March 16,1870.

“I have no patience with you for being ill. What I a fellow of something and twenty, with a sound chest, six feet in his stockings, and a hunter in top condition; what an ungrateful dog to Fortune you are! Leave sickness to old cripples like myself, – hipped, dunned, and blue-devilled, – with a bad balance at the bank, and a ruined digestion. You have no business with malady! Come over and see me here: the very contrast will make you happy and contented.

“I hope, however, you are all right by this time. I’m sure you stick too close to the desk. Be warned by me! It was all over-application and excessive industry ruined my constitution; and instead of being threatened to be cut off, as I am now, in the flower of my youth, I might have lived on to a ripe old age, and all that rottenness that they tell us makes ‘medlars’ exquisite.

“I send you a tailpiece to the O’D. Heaven grant that the Saxon intelligence, for which I daily feel less veneration, should not suspect me of being a Fenian in disguise, though if it should get me dismissed from my consulate and turned out into the streets, I’d almost cry hurrah! for, after all, picking oakum could scarcely be worse than cudgelling my brains for what, after all the manipulation, can’t be got out of them.”

To Mr John Blackwood.

“Trieste, April 1,1870.

“I suppose ‘Sanding the Sugar’ reached you too late, or was it that you don’t like it? I thought it was good, but needed careful going over again and perhaps enlarging.

“I send you three now, and hope you will like them. I have been days over them, and without getting on, for my poor wife’s time of being operated on again draws nigh, and her fear and nervousness have made her seriously ill. For the last three nights I have been sitting up beside her, and as I have been very ‘creaky’ some time back, this pressure has pushed me very hard indeed.

“Many thanks for ‘Piccadilly’; it is beautifully got up, and the style and look of it perfectly faultless. I have re-read it, and like it greatly, – indeed, I think more than the first time. In the little touches of that brusqueness which the well-bred world affects, Oliphant is admirable, and so removed from that low-world dialogue that vulgar novelists imagine people in Society converse in. I am, however, not surprised at the strange step he has taken in life; such extreme fastidiousness could find no rest anywhere but in savagery, just as we see incredulity take refuge in the Church of Rome: les extrêmes se touchent oftener in life than we suspect.”

To Mr John Blackwood.

“Trieste, April 5, 1870.

“I send you an ‘O’Dowd’ I hope will please you. I think it has more ‘fun’ in it than all my late ones, – though, God knows, I never myself felt less disposed to drollery, for I am literally worn out with watching beside my poor sick wife. I cannot bear to read, and it is a blessing to me to run to the pen for distraction.

“The O’D. on Canning has been going the round of the Italian papers, and I see one, the ‘Eco de l’Arno,’ has given a sort of series of extracts from the O’Ds. called Leverania.

“I see Whiteside is in London. How I wish I could go over! I’d like to have a dinner with you both. You’d be greatly pleased with him.

“I am told that the deadlock about the Education Bill is caused by the opposition of the Irish Catholic bishops, who insist on denominational schools – that is, having the whole grant for themselves. No bad idea after all. I wish every consul, with a bald back to his head, should have double salary.

“My best regards to Mrs Blackwood. Tell her she’ll have her meals in peace this time in London, but it isn’t my fault after all.”

To Mr John Blackwood.

“Trieste, April 12, 1870.

“You gratify me much by what you say of these O’Ds. Failing health, broken spirits, a very sad home, and many uncertainties are hard to bear, but I believe I could face them all better than the thought of ‘Brain bankruptcy.’ To draw on my intellect and get for answer ‘no assets’ would, I feel, overwhelm me utterly. Your hearty words have, therefore, done me good service, and in my extra glass of claret – and I will take one to-day – I’ll drink your health.

“I am distressed at not getting the April No. of ‘Maga’ yet; by some accident it has been forgotten or miscarried, and it is a great comfort to me to ‘cuddle over.’

“My poor wife is still suffering intensely, and too weak to undergo the operation, which is eminently necessary. She has at last, too, lost all courage, and, I might almost say, wish to live. Much of this depression is from actual pain, and all our efforts are now directed to allay that. I never leave the house, or, if I do, go beyond the garden. Of course, I admit no visitors, and scarcely remember the days of the week.”

To Mr John Blackwood.

“Trieste, April 15,1870.

“I think the title had better be ‘Personal and Peculiar.’ I have added and changed the conclusion, whether for the better or not you shall decide. There was some danger in saying more, and I might have found, if I went on, that, as Curran says, I had argued myself out of my brief.

“I have a half suspicion the Bill may break down after all, – not that it signifies much, since the Tories could not take office with any chance of holding it, but the mere failure would offend Gladstone, and even that would be a comfort.

“I have no better news to send for this, and am low, low!

“Don’t forget to send me ‘Maga’ for this month – April.

“Have you read Dickens’ new serial, and what do you say to it? I am curious to hear.

“We have a report here from Greece that the English Sec. of Legation and a whole picnic party have been captured by the brigands, and an immense ransom demanded.”

To Mr John Blackwood.

“Trieste, April 23, 1870.

“The blow has fallen at last, and I am desolate. My poor darling was taken from me at two this morning, without suffering. It seems to me as if years had gone over since she smiled her last good-bye to me. All the happiness of my life has gone, and all the support. God’s greatest mercy would be to take me from a life of daily looking back, which is all that remains to me now.

“You are, I feel, a true friend who will feel for my great sorrow, and I write this as to one who will pity me.”

To Mr John Blackwood.

“Trieste, May 28, 1870.

“Though I cannot read your note by any other light than an affectionate desire to be of service to me, veiled under the notion that I could be of any use to you; and though I say I see all this, and see besides how little capable I now am of even a weak effort, I accept your offer and write at once for leave of absence, which, between ourselves, I do not think would be accorded me if it was guessed that I intended to visit Greece. Indeed I know that Mr Gladstone’s Hellenism is calculated on at Athens to sustain the Greek government through anything that the public opinion of Europe would be likely to submit to.10

“Erskine is an old friend of mine, but he is a very self-contained and reserved fellow, who will reveal nothing, and I would be glad of some Greek introductions to any persons not officially bound to sustain the Queen’s Cabinet. My wish would be to take the Constantinople boat that leaves on Saturday next, the 4th, and reaches Athens on Thursday following, 9th; but if my leave is not accorded me by telegraph I cannot do this, and there is only one boat in the week. I have to-day seen a private telegram from M. W – , the Greek Minister to the Austrian government here, saying that he is on the track of this most infamous outrage, and that if his suspicion prove true, some men of political eminence will have to fly from Greece for ever.

“I cannot thank you enough for your kind and affectionate remembrance of me: it is very dear to me such friendship in this dark hour of my life. There is something gone wrong with the action of my heart, and I have short moments when it seems disposed to give in, – and indeed I don’t wonder at it.

“As there would be no time to send me letters here in reply to this, write to me addressed British Legation, Athens – that is, taking for granted that I shall start on Saturday next.”

To Mr John Blackwood.

“Trieste, June 4, 1870.

“I have looked out anxiously for a note from you these last couple of days. I hope you got my telegram safely. Yesterday I received a telegraphic despatch from F. O. saying my ‘leave was granted,’ and I sail now in two hours. If I find that my heart disturbance – which has been very severe the last couple of days – increases on me, I shall stop at Corfu and get back again at my leisure. I do not know if there is much to be learned at Athens that Erskine has not either gleaned or muddled, but I will try and ascertain where the infamy began.

“I used once to think that the most sorrowful part of leaving home was the sad heart I left behind me. I know now that there is something worse than that – it is to carry away the sadness of a desolate heart with me.

“I believe the post leaves Athens for the Continent on Saturdays: if so, and that I arrive safely on Thursday 9th, I shall write to you by that mail.

“My affectionate remembrances to Mrs Blackwood.”

To Mr John Blackwood.

“Athens, Hôtel d’Angleterre, June 9,1870.

“Here I am, in poor Vyner’s quarters: but short as the time is since my arrival, it has taught me that there is nothing, or next to nothing, to be learned. The amount of lying here beats Banagher – indeed all Ireland. However, I will try and make a résumé of the question that will be readable and, if I can, interesting.

“I am a good deal fagged, but not worse for my journey, and, on the whole, stronger than when I started.

“I thought I should have had some letter from you here, but possibly there has not been time.

“If Lord Carnarvon knew of my direct source of information it would be of great use; for the Legation and Finlay, whom I have seen, are simply men defending a thesis, and so far not to be relied on.”

To Mr John Blackwood.

“Athens, June 17,1870.

“I send you a hurried line to catch F. O. messenger, who is just leaving. I want merely to say that I have got together a considerable number of facts about brigandage altogether, and the late misfortune in particular, and only wait till I get back to put them into shape. Keep me a corner, then, not for next No. but August, and I hope I shall send something readable.

“I have met much courtesy and civility here, but I am dying to get home. My palpitations still trouble me, and if I don’t actually faint, I suppose it is that I don’t know how.

“I have been anxiously looking out for letters from you, and now I am off to Corinth, and shall work my way back through the islands.

“Do you know that if any of the blunders had failed, these poor fellows would now have been alive! and even with the concurring mistakes of [? ], Erskine, and [? ], they would not have succeeded if the rains had not swollen the streams and made them unfordable. It is the saddest story of cross-purposes and stupidities I ever listened to in my life.”

To Mr William Blackwood.

“Trieste, June 30,1870.

“I have just reached home, and send you at once what I have done, and what may still require a page or two to complete. Not knowing where your uncle is, and not liking to incur the delay of sending on a wrong errand if he should have left London, I hope he may like what I have written, which, whether good or bad, I can honestly declare has occupied all my sleeping and waking thoughts these last four weeks, insomuch that I have never looked at the [? proofs] of a story11 that must begin next August à contrat, and for which I can feel neither interest nor anxiety. Indeed, I am in every way ‘at the end of my tether,’ my journey, and certainly my heart symptoms are greatly diminished, and the sooner I shut up altogether the better will it be for that very little scrap of reputation which I once acquired.

“I am very ‘shaky’ in health, but very happy to be again at home with my dear girls, who never weary of kindnesses to me, and who would give me comfort if I could be comforted.”

To Mr John Blackwood.

“Trieste, July 1,1870.

“Your letter just reached me by a late post as I was sending off this packet. I write a line to thank you, and say how happy it made me to see your handwriting again.

“My daughters find me looking much better for

“It is quite true ‘this Greek story is a very strange one’; whether we ever shall get to the bottom of it is very doubtful. I believe the present Cabinet in Greece are dealing fairly with Erskine now, – partly from a hope that it is the best policy – partly from believing that England will resent heavily any attempt at evasion. Of Noel I have great distrust; he has been brought up amongst Greeks – and even Greek brigands – of whom he speaks in terms of eulogy and warmth that are (with our late experiences) positively revolting.

“I hope you will like what I have written. I have given it my whole thought and attention, and for the last four weeks neither talked, reflected, or speculated on anything but the Marathon disaster. I saw Finlay, who is very old and feeble, and I thought mentally so too.

“I wonder will the new Secretary at F. O. act energetically about Greece? I have grave doubts that Gladstone will make conciliation the condition of his appointment. We are in a position to do whatever we like: the difficulty is to know what that should be. To cause the misfortune [? ], the blunders of [?] & Co. would not have succeeded without the heavy rain that made the rivers impassable and retarded the movements. In fact, such a combination of evil accidents never was heard of, and had anybody failed in anything they did, the poor fellows would now be living.

“I am glad to think Oliphant will come back to the world again, – these genial fellows are getting too rare to spare one of the best of them to barbarism. I should like to meet him again.”

To Mr John Blackwood.

“Trieste, July 9, 1870.

“I have just received your cordial note, and write at once to say how sorry I am not to be able to do a sketch of Lord C[larendon]. First of all, I have not anything that could serve to remind me of his career. I know he was a Commissioner of Customs in Ireland, an Ambassador in Spain, and a Viceroy in Dublin, but there ends my public knowledge of him. Personally I only remember him as a very high-bred and courteous gentleman, who made a most finished manner do service for wit (which he had not), and a keen insight into life, especially foreign life, of which he really only knew the conventional part. If I had the materials for his biography I would not hesitate about the sketch, but it is as well (for you) that I have not, for I should not do it well, and we should both of us be sorry at the failure.

“I’ll tell you, however, who could and would do it well, Rob. Lytton, who married his niece, and is now at Knebworth. He knew Lord C. intimately, and had exactly that sort of appreciation of him that the public would like and be pleased to see in print.

“I don’t think Dickens’ memory is at all served by this ill-judged adulation. He was a man of genius and a loyal, warm-hearted, good fellow; but he was not Shakespeare, nor was Sam Weller Falstaff.

“I hope you will like my Greek paper. I cannot turn my mind to anything else, and must add some pages when I see the proof. I hear there will be no Greek debate, as all parties are agreed not to discuss Lord C.‘s absurd concession about the ship of war to take off the brigands, – a course which would have given Russia such a handle for future meddling, and left us totally unable to question it.

“My journey has certainly done me good. My flurried action of the heart has greatly left me, and except a sense of deep dreariness and dislike to do anything – even speak – I am as I used to be.

“I’d say time would do the rest if I did not hope for something more merciful than time and that shall anticipate time: I mean rest – long rest.”

To Mr John Blackwood.

“Aug. 4, 1870.

“I was conning over the enclosed O’D. when your letter came this morning, – and of late the post misses three days in five, – and I believe I should have detained my MS. for further revision, but I cannot delay my deepest thanks for your munificent remittance. I have not now to be told so to feel how much more you were thinking of me than of Greece when you advised this journey. Be assured that in the interest you felt for me in my great sorrow I grew to have a care for life and a desire to taste its friendships that I didn’t think my heart was capable of. I know well, too well, that I could not have written anything that could justify such a mission – least of all with a breaking heart and an aching head, – but I was sure that in showing you how willing I was to accept a benefit at your hands I should best prove what a value I attached to your friendship, and how ready I was to owe you what brought me round to life and labour again. I do fervently hope the Greek article may be a success; but nothing that it could do, nor anything that I might yet write, could in any way repay what I am well content should be my great debt to your sterling affection for me, – never to be acquitted – never forgotten.”

To Mr John Blackwood.

“Trieste, Aug. 7, 1870.

“I am full sure that nothing but war will now be talked, and so I send another bellicose ‘O’Dowd’ to make up the paper. I hope there may be time for a proof; but if not, my hand is so well known to you now, and you are so well aware of what I intended where I blotch or break down, it is of less consequence.

“This Wissembourg battle was really a great success; and I don’t care a rush that the Prussians were in overwhelming numbers. May they always be so, and may those rascally French get so palpably, unmistakably licked that all their lying press will be unable to gloss over the disgrace.

“If L. Nap. gets one victory he’ll go in for peace and he’ll have England to back him; and I pray, therefore, that Prussia may have the first innings, and I think Paris will do the rest by sending the Bonapartes to the devil.”

To Mr John Blackwood.

“Trieste, Aug. 14.

“An idea has just occurred to me, and on telling it to my daughters they wish me to consult with you on it. It is of a series of papers, the rationale of which is this: —

“All newspaper correspondence from the war being interdicted, or so much restricted as to be of little value, I have thought that a mock narrative following events closely, but with all the licence that an unblushing liar might give himself, either as to the facts or the persons with whom he is affecting intimacy, and this being done by Major M’Caskey, would be rather good fun. I would set out by explaining how he is at present at large and unemployed, making the whole as a personal narrative, and showing that in the dearth of real news he offers himself as a military correspondent, whose qualifications include not only special knowledge of war, but a universal acquaintance with all modern languages, and the personal intimacy of every one from the King of Prussia to Mr Cook the excursionist. This is enough for a mere glimpse of the intention, which, possibly, is worth consideration. Turn it over in your mind and say has it enough in it to recommend it? I know all will depend on how it is done, and I have no sanguine trust in myself now, either for nerve or ‘go,’ and still less for rattling adventures, but yet the actual events would be a great stimulant, and perhaps they might supply some of the missing spirit I am deploring.

“I don’t know that I should have written about this now, but the girls have given me no peace since I first talked of it, and are eternally asking have I begun Major M’Caskey’s adventures. Your opinion shall decide if it be worth trial.”

To Mr John Blackwood.

“Aug. 29,1870.

“A post that takes seven days (and travels, I believe, over Berlin and part of Pomerania) before it reaches Vienna, warns me to be early, and so I despatch these two O’Ds. to see if you like them as part of next month’s envoy.

“Of course, people will admit of no other topic than the war or the causes of it. As the month goes on new interests may arise, and we shall be on the watch for them.

“Be assured ‘The Standard’ is making a grave blunder by its anti-Germanism, and English opinion has just now a value in Germany which, if the nation be once disgusted with us, will be lost for ever.

“Even Mr Whitehurst of ‘The Daily Telegraph’ gives the Emperor up, and how he defers his abdication after such a withdrawal of confidence is not easy to say.

“I don’t suspect that the supremacy of Prussia will be unmitigated gain to us – far from it; but we shall not be immediate sufferers, and we shall at least have the classic comfort of being the ‘last devoured.’

“I hope you gave Lord Lytton and myself the credit (that is due to us) of prophesying this war.”

To Mr John Blackwood.

“Sept. 1, 1870.

“I have so full a conviction of your judgment and such a thorough distrust of my own, that I send you a brief bit of M’Caskey for your opinion. If you like it, if you think it is what it ought to be and the sort of thing to take, just send me one line by telegraph to say ‘Go on.’ I shall continue the narrative in time to reach you by the 18th at farthest, and enough for a paper. Remember this – the real war narrative is already given and will continue to be given by the newspapers, and it is only by a mock personal narrative, with the pretentious opinions of this impudent blackguard upon all he sees, hears, or meets with, that I could hope for any originality.

“My eldest daughter is very eager that I should take your opinion at once, and I am sure you will not think anything of the trouble I am giving you for both our sakes.”

To Mr William Blackwood.

“Trieste, Sep. 2, 1870.

“What a kind thought it was to send me the slip with Corkhardt’s paper! It is excellent fun, and I send it to-day to the Levant to a poor banished friend on a Greek island.

“I regard the nation that thrashes France with the same sort of gratitude I feel for the man who shoots a jaguar. It is so much done in the interests of all humanity, even though it be only a blackguard or a Bismarck who does it.

“I send you an O’D. to make enough for a short paper with the other sent on Monday last.

“I sent your uncle a specimen page of M’Caskey, but by bad luck I despatched it on my birthday, the 31st August,12 and, of course, it will come to no good. It was Dean Swift’s custom to read a certain chapter of Job on his birthday, wherein the day is cursed that a man-child was born. I don’t go that far, but I have a very clear memory of a number of mishaps (to give them a mild name) which have taken this occasion to date from. It would be very grateful news to me to learn I was not to see ‘another return of the happy event,’ but impatience will serve me little, and I must wait till I’m asked for.”

To Mr John Blackwood.

“Trieste, Sept 11,1870.

“Since I got your ‘go on’ I have never ceased writing about M’Caskey. Upon you I throw all the responsibility, the more as it has very nearly turned my own brain with its intrinsic insanity.

“I suppose I have sent you folly enough for the present month; and if you will write me one line to say you wish it, I will set to work at once at the next part and to the extent you dictate.

“Pray look fully to the corrections, and believe me [to be] not very sane or collected.”

To Mr John Blackwood.

“Trieste, Sept. 13, 1870.

“The post, which failed completely yesterday, brought me your three proofs to-day. I now send a short, but not sweet, O’Dowd on ‘Irish Sympathy’ (whose correction you must look to for me), but which is certainly the best of the batch.

“I had hoped to have heard you mention the receipt of M’Caskey, whose revelations on the war will only be of value if given at once. I also sent off some additional matter for M’C. on Sunday last, and hope they have arrived safely.