* “Lever’s accent,” according to Major Dwyer, “was _au fond_ Dublinian.” “He never dropped his Irish manner or his Irish tongue,” says Anthony Trollops, who was an excellent judge of Irish manners and dialect. _Tot homines, quot aures!_--E. D.
** In 1843 Lever had made in his Magazine a special appeal to his readers to testify their gratitude to the author of ‘Our Village,’ by subscribing to a fund which had been started for her benefit.--E. D.
As he had been the life and soul of social enjoyment at the Baths of Lucca, so was he the life and soul of Anglo-Florentine society when he returned to Florence. One of his numerous friends of the period declares that his appearance in the Cascine always provoked attention. His manner of riding was, if anything, less graceful than it used to be in his Templeogue days, when he clattered into Dublin city: he did not rise in the stirrups, but allowed himself to be jogged up and down like a trooper. Dr Fitzpatrick conjectures that “the shaking to which he surrendered himself was meant as a counter-irritant to sedentary habits.” Though at this time he did not speak Italian fluently, he was able to hold his own in the language. Being unlucky enough to embroil himself in a small lawsuit, he decided to conduct his own case. He was warned that this would be courting defeat; but his confidence in himself was unshaken, and not only did he plead his own cause, but he gained a verdict in his favour.
He tells a tale of another case in which (also pleading his own cause) he did not make so successful an advocata In front of his Florentine house was a terrace reached by a flight of steps. This was a favourite lounging-place for the novelist. One day his reveries were disturbed by a visitor who presented a bill. The visitor was a tailor, and the bill was a monstrous document. Lever protested vehemently against the charges, and the tailor protested that they were moderate. In his endeavour to convince the novelist of his rectitude, the visitor became wildly excited, and, moving backwards, he fell headlong down the flight of steps. Lever was summoned, and the tailor swore that his accident was due to alarm caused by the threatening manner of the Englishman,--it was owing to his eagerness to escape from assault that he had fallen down the steps. Lever denied that he had done or said anything which would indicate a possible assault. The court inquired how could the defendant account for the panic-stricken condition of the man. “On two grounds,” replied Lever, flippantly; “he is a tailor and a Tuscan.” Needless to say, the Tuscan court awarded the plaintiff ample damages. When he released himself from his writing-table, and when he was not riding or driving with his family, he was to be found in the clubs, or in salons, or at receptions at the Grand Duke’s. He divided his leisure moments between whist-playing and conversation. Occasionally he danced--when dancing was the order of the night,--his wife, as a general rule, being his partner. It is said that he was never at his best in the society of literary ladies, and that he was particularly nervous in the company of Mrs Trollope. Possibly he was in dread that this authoress might be taking a leaf out of his own book and endeavouring to make a character sketch of him. “It was amusing,” says a friend, “to observe his transparent manoeuvrings to avoid Mrs Trollope as a whist-partner; and it was equally amusing to observe Mrs Trollope’s undisguised desire to secure Lor-requer as her partner.”