Charles Lever, His Life in His Letters Volume I Part 3

"You will then fight us all. We are forty-eight in number, and Prussians. Adieu."

Having said this with the most provoking nonchalance, he withdrew, and the door closed after him, leaving me with an unfinished abjuration of groceries upon my lips.

Ere the following day closed my Prussian friend again visited me to say that Vaust, having complied with the demand made upon him, was no longer under ban.

And now that I have shown you the dark side of the picture, let me a.s.sure you that there is a better one. For firm adherence to each other, for true brotherhood, the German student is above any other I ever met with; and although the principle of honour is overstrained, yet in many respects the consequences are good, and the chivalrous feeling thus inculcated renders him incapable of a mean or unworthy action. There is in everything they do at this period a mixture of highly wrought romantic feeling which strangely contrasts with the drudging, plodding habits which distinguish them in after days.

As I have all along preferred to give instances and facts rather than to indulge in mere speculation, I shall relate an occurrence which made too strong an impression on me ever to be forgotten.

I had been about a month in Gottingen, when I was sitting alone one evening in that species of indolent humour in which we hail a friend's approach without possessing energy sufficient to seek for society abroad, when my friend Eisendaller entered. He resisted all my entreaties to remain, and briefly informed me that he came to request me to accompany him the following morning to Meissner, a distance of about five leagues, where he was to fight a duel. He told me that to avoid suspicion in town the horses should wait at my door, which was outside the ramparts, as early as five o'clock. Having thus acquainted me with the object of his visit, and having cautioned me not to forget that he would breakfast with me before starting, he wished me good-night and departed.

I remained awake the greater part of the night conjecturing what might be the reason for this extraordinary caution, for I well knew that several duels took place every day within the precincts of the University without mention being made of them, or any inquiry being inst.i.tuted by the prorector or consul.

Towards morning I fell into a kind of disturbed sleep, from which I was awakened by my friend entering and halloing "Auf, auf! die Sonne sheint h.e.l.l" (Up, up! the sun shines bright)--the first line of a well-known student "catch."

I rose and dressed myself, and, having breakfasted, we mounted our nags and set off at a sharp pace to the place of meeting. For the first few miles not a word was spoken on either side: my companion was apparently wrapped up in his own thoughts, and I did not wish to intrude upon his feelings at such a moment. At last he broke silence, and informed me that the duel was to be fought with pistols, as he and his adversary had vainly endeavoured to decide this quarrel in several meetings with swords. The cause of this deadly animosity--for such it must have been to require a course rarely if ever pursued by a student of resorting to pistols--he did not clearly explain, but merely gave me to understand that it originated concerning a relative of his opponent,--a very lovely girl, whom he had met at the Court of Hanover.

Having given this brief explanation he again relapsed into silence, and we rode on for miles without a word.

The morning was delightful, the country through which we pa.s.sed highly picturesque, and there was an appearance of happy content and cheerfulness on the faces of the peasants--who all saluted us as they went forth to their morning labour--that stood in awful contrast to our feelings, hurrying forward, as we were, on the mission of death.

At length we arrived at Meissner, where several of my friend's party were expecting him, and, having stabled our horses, we left the town and took a narrow path across the fields, which led to a mill about half a mile off. This was the place of rendezvous. On our way we overtook the other party, who had all pa.s.sed the preceding night at Meissner,--and guess my surprise and horror to find that my friend's antagonist was one of my own intimate acquaintances, and the very student who had been the first to show me any attention on my arriving at Gottingen! He was a young Prussian named Hanstell, whose mild manners and gentlemanlike deportment had acquired for him the sobriquet of "der Zahm" (the Gentle). After saluting each other the parties proceeded to the ground together. There was little time spent in arranging the preliminaries.

It was agreed, as both were well-known marksmen, to throw dice for the first fire. The seconds then came forward, and Hanstel's friends announced that Eisendaller had won. There was an instantaneous falling back of all but the two princ.i.p.als, who now took their positions about fifteen yards from each other. I watched them both closely, and never did I see men more apparently unmoved than they were at that moment. Not a muscle of their features betrayed the least emotion or any concern of the awful situation in which they were placed.

The pistol was handed to Eisendaller with directions to fire before the lapse of a minute. He immediately levelled it, and remained in the att.i.tude of covering his antagonist for some seconds; but at length, finding his hand becoming unsteady, he deliberately lowered his arm to his side, stiffening and stretching it to its utmost length, and remaining thus for an instant, he appeared to be summoning resolution for his deadly purpose. It was a moment of awful suspense. I felt my heart sicken at the bloodthirsty coolness of the whole proceeding, and had to turn away my head in disgust. When I again looked round he had raised his pistol, and was taking a long and steady aim. At length he fired. The ball whizzed through Hanstel's hair, and, as it grazed his cheek, he wheeled half round by an involuntary motion and raised his hand to feel if there was blood. I was looking anxiously at Eisendaller, but he still stood firm and motionless as a statue. I thought at one moment I saw his lip curl, and a half scowl, as if of disappointment and impatience, cross his features, but in an instant it pa.s.sed away, and he was as calm and pa.s.sionless as before.

It was now Hanstel's turn. He lost no time in presenting his weapon.

There was a small red spot burning on his cheek that had been grazed which seemed to bespeak the fiery rage that had taken possession of his soul, for he felt that his antagonist had done his best to take away his life. I shuddered to think that I was looking on my friend for the last time, for from the position in which I stood I could distinctly see that his heart was covered, and the moment Hanstell pulled the trigger would be his last.

Maddened with an agonising thrill of horror, I felt an almost irresistible impulse to rush forward and arrest the arm that was about to deprive Eisendaller of his life; but while a sense of what was due to the established customs of society on such occasions restrained me, I stood breathless with expectation of the fatal flash, Hanstell, to my amazement, suddenly raising his pistol to a vertical position, fired straight over his head, flung his weapon into the air, and rushing forward, threw his arms round Eisendaller, and bursting into tears, exclaimed, "Mein Brader!"

We were wholly unprepared for such a scene, and although not easily unmanned, the overwrought feelings of all sought vent in a pa.s.sion of tears. We soon left the ground, and, mounting our horses, returned to Gottingen.

On our way homeward there was little said. It happened that once, and only once, I found myself at the side of Hanstell. He conversed with me for a short time in an undertone, and on my asking him how he had felt at the moment of his adversary's missing him, he answered me that it was then his determined purpose to shoot him, and up to the last moment this determination remained unaltered, but at the instant of placing his fingers on the trigger he thought he saw an expression about his face that reminded him of careless and happier days when they had studied and played together and had but one heart. "And I felt," said he, "as if I were about to become the murderer of my brother. I could have then more easily turned the pistol against my own breast."*

I was not long a resident in Gottingen ere I became considerably enamoured of many of the Burschen inst.i.tutions. I had already begun to think that students were a very superior order of people,** that duelling was an agreeable after-dinner amus.e.m.e.nt, and that nothing could be more becoming or appropriate than a black frock-coat braided with a fur collar even in the month of July.

* Lever introduces the story of this duel into "The Loiterings of Arthur Cleary."--E. D.

** One of Lever's intimates at Gottingen was a young German count Later the Irish student discovered that his college chum--he calls him "Fattorini" in one of his letters, and he referred to him in conversation (according to Dr Fitzpatrick) as "Morony"--was no other than Louis Napoleon, the future Emperor of the French.--E. D.

Having made this avowal, you will perhaps readily believe that I was soon a favourite among my fellow-students; and a circ.u.mstance which at that time added not a little to their goodwill and applause was the fact of my translating the English song, "The King, G.o.d bless him!" into German verse for a dinner to celebrate the anniversary of Waterloo.

My life now, although somewhat monotonous, was by no means an uninteresting or tiresome one. The mornings were usually occupied at lectures, and then I dined, as do all students, at one, after which we generally adjourned in parties to one another's lodgings, where we drank coffee and smoked till about three o'clock. After this we again heard lectures till we met together at Blumenbach's in the Botanical Gardens in the evening, when we listened to the venerable professor explaining the mysteries of calyx and corolla, some half-dozen young ladies by far the most attentive of his pupils. The evening was usually concluded by a drive to Geismar or some other little village five or six miles from Gottingen, when, having supped on sour milk thickened with brown bread and brown sugar (a beverage which, notwithstanding my Burschen prejudices, I must confess neither cheers nor inebriates), we returned home about eleven. And although I wished much that university restrictions had not forbade our having a theatre in the town, and also that professors were relieved from their dread of the students misbehaving, and would permit us to a.s.sociate with their daughters (for I was as completely secluded from the society of ladies as ever St Kevin was), yet I was happy and content withal.

Such was the even tenor of my way when the news reached us that a rebellion had broken out among the students of Heidelberg, in consequence, it was said, of some act of oppression on the part of the professors. Nothing could exceed the interest excited in Gottingen when the information arrived. There was but one subject of conversation: lecture-rooms were deserted, the streets were crowded with groups of students conversing in conclave on the one subject of paramount interest; and at last it was unanimously resolved to show the Heidelbergers our high sense of their praiseworthy firmness by inviting them to Gottingen, when news arrived that they had already put the University of Heidelberg in _verschiess_--that is, "in Coventry,"--and were actually at the moment on their way to us.

III. WANDERINGS, 1829-1830

The Log-Book of a Rambler concludes with an account of a quarrel between the students and the professors at Heidelberg. To this university Lever transferred himself in the autumn of 1828, and after a short sojourn he proceeded to Vienna. In November his father, apologising for being unable to a.s.sist a relative in distress, declares that his rents were "being badly paid," and that his son Charles was "no small charge" upon him. In the same letter James Lever says that Charles intended to pa.s.s the winter at Vienna, and then to proceed to Paris, and that he was expected to arrive at home in April or May. "He writes in good spirits,"

says his father, "enjoys good health, and if I can supply him with money he does not wish to return soon."

From Vienna the young student proceeded, early in 1829, to Weimar, and at the Academy he made the acquaintance of Goethe. He describes Goethe's talk as being marked by touches of picturesque and inimitable description; he had the gift of holding his audience spell-bound by some magic which it was impossible to describe.

From Weimar Lever travelled through Bavaria. To a friend he once stated that not only had he "walked the hospitals" of Germany, but that he had "walked Germany itself, exploring everything." Possibly this was an exaggerated account of his peregrinations through the Fatherland, but there can be no question that he saw at this time a great deal of Germany and of German life, and that his experiences impressed him and remained with him, vivid and pleasant memories.

In the beginning of March the wanderer found himself in Paris. From this city he wrote to his lifelong friend in Dublin, Alexander Spencer:--

"Paris, _Friday, March_ 13,1829.

"I am perfectly ashamed of the rapid succession in which my letters of late have inundated the family, yet in my present state of doubt, &c., I think it better to write at once to prevent any further mischief. I yesterday received a letter from Connor (Joe), informing me that he had forwarded to me in Paris from Vienna a Dublin letter of the 28th of last month. Now none such has arrived, and I have received already letters from Vienna bearing date 2nd March. This delay has rendered me very unhappy about the ultimate fate of my letter, and as Connor has already left Vienna, I have no means of ascertaining anything about it there. I have written to him at [MS. undecipherable], where he is at present, but cannot receive his answer before five days, so that I think it better in the interval to stop payment of the bill, at all events until I can learn something about it. I have myself seen all the letters lately arrived in Paris from Vienna, so that its delay is in no wise attributable to the irregularity of the post in Paris.

"If this letter had arrived before, I should be now on my road homeward, but I am here in durance vile for want of it. But away with blue devils!

"Paris would be a delightful place had a man only 'gilt' enough: there are so many gay little varieties and vaudevilles, that you have never time to spare. The Palais Royal is a world in itself of all that is splendid and seducing, but with all these things a poor man has but a sorry time of it. Of the Italian Opera and of Verge I dare only read the _carte_, and content myself with a chop at Richard's and the Opera Comique. Is it not (I ask you in all calmness) a thought that might lead to insanity to see these lucky ones of fortune sent out on their travels with fat purses, enjoying all the advantage of seeing and hearing what they neither relish nor comprehend, while many a poor fellow might reap advantage and improvement, but is debarred from the narrowness of his circ.u.mstances?

"I am now very anxious to see my family and find myself at home, although I believe I am now spending the last few days of a period I shall always call the happiest of my life. I look back on my time in Germany with one feeling of unmixed pleasure; if there be the least tinge of regret, it is only because the time can never return, and that my happiest days are already spent.

"As Don Juan says, I make a resolution every spring of reformation ere the year runs out, but I certainly have more confidence in myself now than I ever before had. I will go home, free myself from all fetters of every species of acquaintanceship that can only consume time and give nothing in return, put my shoulder to the wheel, and in one year I shall find if I am ever to turn out well or not.

"Like every man who has lost time and let good opportunities escape him without an effort to profit by them, I employ my leisure hours in wishes that I had to begin the world again."

He speaks in a postscript of an English family who were stopping at his hotel:--

"I am going to convey one of the daughters, who is certainly pretty, to the Louvre to-day. She is to have 10,000, and that might not be a bad spec, but I should rather make my fortune by any other means....

"The old padrone had the impudence to half propose my going to Italy as tutor to his young cub, but I answered him very brusquely. He was certainly very spirited in his offer of compensation, but my prospects have not come to that as yet. Remember me most affectionately to father, mother, John, and Anne....

"I wrote to you a few lines on the selvage of my note to my father.

As the tenor of them may not have been very intelligible, allow me to repeat. If any letter from Vienna should arrive in Talbot Street, secure it for me. My mother might open it, and although she does not comprehend German, yet there might be more of it understood than I should like.

I know your reflections very well at this moment, but you are in the wrong. As the song says,

'It's a bit of a thing to keep.'

But wait a week and you shall hear it all orally."

Spencer evidently came promptly to the aid of the traveller, for the same month of March found him once more in his native land.

It is stated by Dr Fitzpatrick in the later editions of his 'Life of Charles Lever' that the novelist obtained in 1824 an appointment as medical officer in charge of an emigrant ship bound from New Boss to Quebec. In 1824 Lever would have been only in his eighteenth year, and he would not have been in possession of any medical degree, nor would his brief experience as a student of the healing art have ent.i.tled him to undertake the medical charge of a pa.s.senger ship. Moreover, in a letter quoted by Dr Fitzpatrick, Lever speaks of spending the summer of 1829 in Canada, and there is no suggestion that he made two voyages to America. It may be safely a.s.serted that the date of the American voyage was not 1824; and in all probability 1829 was the year of the Hegira.*

* I discussed these points with Dr Fitzpatrick during his last visit to London, shortly before his death, and he stuck to his theory that 1824 was the date. He declared (as he declares in his book) that in the early years of the last century there was no Board of Emigration or other authority to interfere with the engagement of an unqualified or inexperienced man as ship's doctor, and that 1824 fitted in with his own opinions about Lever's various movements more easily than 1829; and that Lever speaks in his Log-Book of having heard the sound of Niagara. But the Log-Book was not completed until 1830. Subsequently I found in one of James Lever's letters, dated 1824, a statement that his son Charles was then studying medicine and surgery, and was "still in college." In 1901 the novelist's only surviving daughther, Mrs Bowes-Watson, writes: "Yes; my father went to the United States and Canada when he was a very young man. It must have been in 1829 or 1830."--E. D.

Lever appears to have embarked from New Ross in a vessel belonging to Messrs Pope of Waterford. A cousin of Lever, Mr Harry Innes, declares that it was through his good offices the young medical student succeeded in obtaining "the appointment, such as it was." Lever abandoned the ship upon her arrival in the St Lawrence. He does not speak of this voyage in any of his autobiographical writings, except that he tells us in a preface to 'Con Cregan'--a novel in which certain quarters of Quebec are intimately and graphically described--that once upon a time he "endured a small shipwreck" on the island of Anticosti. To his friend Canon Hayman he wrote (in June 1843) that the Canadian incidents in 'Arthur O'Leary' were largely personal experiences. He narrated to the canon an account of his landing in the New World, and of his rapid pa.s.sage from civilised districts to the haunts of the red man. He was eager to taste the wild freedom of life with an Indian tribe. Lever, according to himself, found no difficulty in being admitted to Red-Indian fellowship, and for a time the unrestrained life of the prairie was a delightful and exhilarating experience. The nights in the open air, the days spent in the pine-forests or on the banks of some majestic river, were transcendently happy. He was endowed by the sachem with "tribal privileges," and he identified himself as far as possible with his newly-made friends. Ere long, however, he grew weary of the lat.i.tudinarianism and of the ingloriousness of barbaric life, and he began to sigh for the flesh-pots of the city. He contrived to hide his feelings from the n.o.ble red man, but a n.o.ble red woman shrewdly guessed that the pale-face was weary, discontented, home-sick. This woman warned the young "medicine man" that if he made any overt attempt to seek his own people he would be followed, and one of his tribal privileges would be to suffer death by the tomahawk. Lever dissembled, and (somewhat after the manner of the as yet uncreated Mrs Micawber) he a.s.severated that he would never desert the clan.

But his moodiness grew apace and his health gave way. The perspicacious squaw, knowing the origin of his malady, feared that the pale-face would die from natural causes. Moved by compa.s.sion, she planned, at the risk of her own life and reputation, the escape of the interesting young stranger. An Indian named Tahata--a kind of half-savage commercial traveller--visited the tribe at long intervals, bearing with him supplies of such necessaries as rum and tobacco. Swayed by the promise of a good round sum, Tahata agreed to do his best to smuggle Charles Lever back to the paths of civilisation. The pair, after many vicissitudes, reached Quebec one bright frosty morning in December. "I walked through the streets," said Harry Lorrequer to Canon Hayman, "in moccasins and with head-feathers." In Quebec he found a timber merchant with whom his father had business transactions, and this hospitable man recompensed the trusty Tahata, and made Lever his guest; and when the ex-Indian was newly "rigged out" the merchant paid his pa.s.sage back to the old country.