Another tale of the period concerns Dr Whately. Amongst Lever’s acquaintances at Brussels was the future Archbishop of Dublin. At first when Lever took up the reins of ‘The Dublin University,’ the Archbishop and the editor resumed the friendly relations which had existed in Belgium, but possibly Whately fancied that the author of ‘Harry Lorrequer’ was a somewhat dangerous acquaintance for an Archbishop in his own diocese. Whately was a man of hobbies, and horticulture was one of these. Soon after he was settled down in the County Dublin, Lever invited the Archbishop to dinner, and took much pains to get the correct kind of guests together. He was chagrined to find, when the dinner-hour had arrived, that instead of putting in an appearance his lordship sent a belated and lame apology. The chaplain who conveyed the apology also conveyed (as a peace-offering) an enormous pumpkin grown in the Archbishop’s hot-house. Lever gravely placed the pumpkin on the chair reserved for his lordship, and during the dinner he addressed much of his conversation to it. When the guests rose from the dinner-table the host said: “In all my experience of the Archbishop, I never knew him to be so agreeable as he has been this evening.”
The novelist did not forget the rebuffs he had endured at the hands of Dr Whately, and he took a somewhat mean revenge at a convenient opportunity. Whately, in addition to his love of horticulture, was rather fond of surrounding himself with sycophants. Lever happened to encounter him in Killarney. The Archbishop was rambling through some shrubberies accompanied by two submissive and expectant clergymen, and he was expatiating upon the merits of mushrooms--his most recent hobby. Observing a large fungus under a tree, his lordship stooped and seized it. Then he went on to say that it was merely prejudice on the part of an ignorant peasantry which prevented the mushroom from becoming a staple article of food. “Try a bit of it,” said he, offering the fungus to one of his companions. The unfortunate clergyman nibbled at it, and averred that it was truly delicious. The Archbishop obtained similar glowing criticism from the other clergyman. “Try it, Mr Lever,” said he. “No, thank you,” responded the novelist; “it would be useless.” “Useless, Mr Lever! What do you mean?” “My brother is in the diocese of Meath. If he was in your lordship’s diocese I’d gladly eat the whole of it.”