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

“In fact, she makes me send the enclosed, and ask you to forward it to Kellett – that is, if you agree with her. For myself, I own I am the aggrieved party; I was d – d civil to the whole menagerie, rhinoceros included. I half ruined myself in entertaining them, and now I am rebuked for a little very mild pleasantry and very weak joking.

“What! is it because ye are bluejackets there shall be no more ‘O’Dowds’? Ay, marry, and very hot ones too – and sharp in the mouth.

“All right as to the new tariff. It is a great [? nuisance] to me that the public does not like its devilled kidneys in wholesale, but perhaps we may make the palate yet: I’ll try a little longer, at all events. But if the Tories come in and make me a tide-waiter, I’ll forswear pen-and-ink and only write for ‘The Hue and Cry.’”

To Mr John Blackwood.

“Dec. 11,1865.

“Your first objection to Cave’s ‘spoonyness’[5 - In ‘Sir Brook Fossbrooke.’ of doctrine by the opposite poles – Exeter and Cashel, Colenso and Carlisle; but you will see that I never instanced these men, or any other individuals, as likely to offer their pulpits.] I answer thus. Cave was heartily ashamed of himself for having played at stakes far above his means, and, like a man so overwhelmed, was ready to do, say, or approve of anything in his confusion. I was drawing from life in this sketch.

“2nd, Sewell’s addressing the men in his town so carelessly. He never saw them before; they came, hundreds, to see a race, and his acquaintances and the public were so mingled. He addressed them with an insolence not infrequent in Englishmen towards ‘mere Irish,’ and only corrected himself when pulled up.

“I am deep in thinking over the story; and though I have not written a line, I am at it night and day.” To Mr John Blackwood.

“Florence, Dec. 12,1865.

“I have just got your note. I need not say it has not given me pleasure, for I really thought – so little are men judges of their own work – that there were some of these O’Ds. equal to any I ever wrote. The paper that requires either explanation or defence can’t be good, and so I accept the adverse verdict. I make no defence, but I must make explanation.

“In the ‘Prof. Politeness’ paper there is no personality whatever. I simply expressed divergence.

“As to the practice, I have seen it over and over, and I can vouch for it in hospitals, home and foreign, as well.

“I have expunged ‘Times,’ and made the word ‘newspapers’; I have cancelled ‘C. Connellan’ altogether. And now I trust your fear of an action must be relieved, – though if Corney Connellan were to be offended, I might really despair of a joke being well taken by any one.”

To Mr John Blackwood.

“Villa Morelli, Christmas Day.

“I send you a full measure of ‘Sir B.’ for next month, and despatch it now, as I have only remained here to eat my Christmas dinner, and start to-morrow for Spezzia, where I have some eight or ten days’ work before me.

“I hope you will like the present ‘envoy.’ I have taken pains with the dialogue, and made it as sharp and touchy as I could.

“There is, I hear, a compact in petto between the Whigs and the Irish by which all Irish Education is to be made over to the Church of Rome. If so, a paper on the way in which countries, essentially Romish, reject the priest’s domination and provide against all subjugation to the Church, might be well timed. It has only struck me this morning, but it is worth you turning your mind to, especially if the papers were to be ready and in print for the eventuality of the debate in Parliament, and debate there will be on the question.

“I am not sure I could do such a paper, but I could be of use to any one who could, and give him some valuable material, too, from Italian enactments.

“I do not know if my Belgium bit reached you in time, and our post is now so irregular here I may not know for some days.

“I hear that the Government mean to hand over Eyre to the Radicals; and though there is much in his case hard to defend, that the man did his best in a great difficulty according to ‘his lights’ I am convinced.

“I have such a good story for you about Drummond Wolff versus Bulwer, – but I can’t write it. You shall hear it, however, when I come over in spring, even if I go down to Edinburgh to tell it.

“A great many happy Christmases to you and all yours.”

To Mr John Blackwood.

“Croce di Malta, Spezzia, Dec. 30, 1866.

“Your last pleasant note and its ‘stuffing’ has just reached me here, where I am consularising, bullying Custom-house folk, and playing the devil with all the authorities to show my activity in the public service. I can’t endure being away from home and my old routine life; but there was no help for it, and I am here now for another week to come.

“The name I want for the author of Tony is ‘Arthur Helsham,’ the name of my mother’s family; and the last man who bore the aforesaid was the stupidest blockhead of the house, and the luckiest too. Faustum sit augurium.

“As to G. Berkeley’s book, it is quite impossible to do anything at all commensurate with so rascally a book. It is hopeless work trying to make a sweep dirtier, and I agree with you – better not touch him.”

XVI. FLORENCE AND SPEZZIA 1866

To Mr John Blackwood.

“Villa Morelli, Florence, Jan. 3,1866.

“I came back from Spezzia this morning to find your pleasant letter and its enclosure. I thank you much for both. I wanted the money not a little, but half suspect I wanted the kind assurances of your satisfaction just as much. I was not content with your opinion of the last ‘O’Dowds,’ most probably from some lurking suspicion that you might be right, and that they were not as good as they ought to be, or as I meant them to be. Now I am easier on that score, – and since I have seen them in print I am better pleased also.

“My Xmas was cut in two: I was obliged to go down to Spezzia the day after Christmas Day and stay there ever since, idling, far from pleasantly, and living at a bad inn somewhat dearer than the Burlington. I could not write while there; but I have turned over a couple of ‘O’Dowds’ in my head, and if they be heavy don’t print them, and I’ll not fret about it. It’s not very easy, in a place like this, where the only conversation is play or intrigue, to find matters of popular interest.

“I often wish I could break new ground; but I’m too old, perhaps, to transplant. But I’ll not grumble now: it’s Christmas, and I wish you and all around you every happiness that Christmas should bring.

“I hope you like my last envoy of ‘Sir B.’ which I trust to see in proof in a few days.

“I was half tempted to make an ‘O’Dowd’ on the recent installation of a Knight of St Patrick, as described in an Irish paper: ‘The mantle is worn over one shoulder and falls gracefully on the ground, the legend Quis Separabit being inscribed on the decoration of the collar.’ What with the trailing garment, I was sorely tempted to translate Quis Separabit ‘Who’ll tread on me?’

“I was right glad to read of Fergusson’s honours. What a manly bold letter that was of his about the Negro atrocities. I vow to God I have not temper to write of them.

“I hear young Lytton is likely to lose his sight, – some terrible inflammation of the iris, I believe, and it is feared must end in total blindness.”

To Mr John Blackwood.

“Villa Morelli, Florence, Jan. 5,1866.

“I am so ‘shook’ by a bad train and a [? wetting] that I can scarcely hold a pen, and my head is still addled with the crash and reverberation of big guns, for I have been ‘assisting’ at the trial of armour-plates, with steel shot, for the Italian Navy, – though what they have to do with the subject, seeing that they neither fire at the enemy or wait to be fired at, is more than I know.

“Persano was so overcome by terror that he was literally carried down the ladder to his gig, when he changed his flag to the Affondatore. The on dit is he will be dismissed from the service. Quite enough, God knows, for any shortcoming; for bravery, after all, as Dogberry says of reading and writing, is ‘the gift of God.’

“We have had a sombre Xmas here: my wife very ill, and the rest of us poorly enough.

“There is not a word of news. A small squabble with the Turks, who fired at one of the ships, has made the Italians warlike once more, and they are crying out, ‘Hold me, for you know my temper!’ But it will blow over after some un-grammatical interchange of despatches, and be forgotten.

“Hardman was dining with me the other day, when an Italian admiral – the ablest man they have – launched out fiercely against ‘The Times’ and its Italian correspondent. The thing was too late for remedy, but Hardman’s good sense prevented further embarrassment.”

To Mr John Blackwood.

“Villa Morelli, Jan. 7, 1866.

“I hope long ere this your face-ache has left you. I dread these neuralgic things, having had one or two seizures of them: and they are so infernally treacherous; they come back just when one is triumphing over being rid of them.

“I send you some O’Ds. One, I hope, will please you – the ‘Two Rebellions.’ I know you will go with me in the d – d cowardice of the newspaper fellows talking to a man in a pinch and saying how he should behave. I had one of these men out in my boat at Spezzia, and such a pluckless hound I never saw, and yet if you read his Garibaldian articles in the paper, you’d have thought him a paladin!

“I read this O’D. aloud here, and it was thought the best I had done for some time. The ‘Extradition’ is not bad, the rest are so-so.