Complete Novels of Maria Edgeworth

by Maria Edgeworth

  Charming, amiable Lady Wellington! As she truly said of herself, she is always “Kitty Pakenham to her friends.” After comparison with crowds of others, beaux esprits, fine ladies and fashionable scramblers for notoriety, her dignified graceful simplicity rises in one’s opinion, and we feel it with more conviction of its superiority. She showed us her delightful children. Lord Longford, just come to town, met us yesterday at the Exhibition of Sir Joshua Reynolds’s pictures. Some of these are excellent: his children, from the sublime Samuel to the arch Gipsy, are admirable.

  We hope to see Mrs. Siddons act on the 25th; it was thought impossible to get a box, but the moment my father pronounced the name Edgeworth, Mr. Brandon, the box-keeper, said he should have one. Lady Charleville, who is a very clever woman, goes with us with her daughter and Lord Tullamore. We have been to a grand night at Mrs. Hope’s — the rooms really deserve the French epithet of superbe — all of beauty, rank, and fashion that London can assemble, I may say, in the newspaper style, were there. The Prince Regent stood one-third of the night holding converse with Lady Elizabeth Monk, she leaning gracefully on a bronze ornament in the centre of the room, in the midst of the sacred but very small circle etiquette could keep round them. About 900 people were at this assembly; the crowd of carriages were so great, that after sitting waiting in ours for an hour, the coachman told us there was no chance of our reaching the door unless we got out and walked. Another good-natured coachman backed his horses, and we bravely crossed the line and got into the house and up the staircase, but no power of ours could have got us on, but for the gloriously large body and the good-natured politeness of the Archbishop of Tuam, who fortunately met us at the door, recognised us just as he would have done at Mrs. Bourke’s, in the county of Longford, and made way for us through the crowd, and, in the wake of his greatness, we sailed on prosperously, and never stopped till he presented us to his beautiful daughter, who received us with a winning smile. I asked Mr. Hope who some one was? “I really don’t know; I don’t know half the people here, nor do they know me or Mrs. Hope even by sight. Just now I was behind a lady who was making her speech, as she thought, to Mrs. Hope, but she was addressing a stranger.” Among the old beauties the Duchess of Rutland held her pre-eminence and looked the youngest.

  A few days after we came to town we were told by Mr. Wakefield that there was to be at the Freemasons’ tavern a meeting on the Lancasterian schools, at which the reports of the Irish Education Committee were to be alluded to, and that the Dukes of Kent and Sussex, Lord Lansdowne, Sir James Macintosh, and Mr. Whitbread were all to speak. We went; fine large hall, ranged with green benches like a lecture room: raised platform at one end for the performers: arm-chairs for the Royal Dukes, and common chairs for common men. Waited an hour, and were introduced to various people, among others, to Mr. Allen, who is famous for his generous benevolence, living most economically and giving thousands as easily as others would give pence. Dumont came and seated himself between my mother and me, and the hour’s waiting was so filled with conversation that it seemed but five minutes.

  Enter, on the platform, the Royal Dukes preceded by stewards with white staves; gentlemen of the Committee ranged at the back of the theatre, one row in front on each side of the Dukes, Lord Lansdowne, Mr. Whitbread, Mr. Lancaster, two or three others, and Mr. Edgeworth. The object of the meeting was to effect a junction between the Bell and Lancasterian parties. It had been previously agreed that Lancaster should have his debts paid, and should retire and give up his schools. Lord Lansdowne spoke extremely well, matter and manner; when he adverted to the Board of Education he turned to my father and called upon him to support his assertion, that the dignified clergy in Ireland among those commissioners had acted with liberality. It had been previously arranged that my father was to move the vote of thanks to the ladies, but of this we knew nothing; and when he rose and when I heard the Duke of Kent in his sonorous voice say “Mr. Edgeworth,” I was so frightened I dared not look up, but I was soon reassured. My father’s speaking was, next to Lord Lansdowne’s, the best I heard, and loud plaudits convinced me that I was not singular in this opinion. The Duke of Kent speaks well and makes an excellent chairman.

  Yesterday my father was invited to a Lancasterian dinner; for an account of it I refer you to Lord Fingal, next to whom my father sat, but as you may not see him immediately I must tell you that my father’s health was drunk, and that when his name was mentioned, loud applause ensued, and the Duke of Bedford, after speaking of the fourteenth report of the Irish Board of Education, pronounced a eulogium on “the excellent letter which is appended to that report, full of liberality and good sense, on which indeed the best part of the report seems founded. I mean the letter by Mr. Edgeworth, to whom this country as well as Ireland is so much indebted.”

  Yesterday I had a good hour in comfort to write to you before breakfast, which was scarcely ended when Mr. Wakefield came in with a letter from the Duke of Bedford, who is anxious to see my father’s experiments on the draft of wheel-carriages tried. Then came Lord Somerville, who sat and talked and invited us to his country-house, but all this did not forward my letter. Then came Lady Darnley; and then my father walked off with Lord Somerville, and we gave orders no one should be let in; so we only heard vain thunders at the door, and I got on half a page, but then came poor Peggy Langan, [Footnote: Grand-daughter to the original of Thady, in Castle Rackrent. Her sister was the original of Simple Susan.] and her we admitted; she is in an excellent place, with Mrs. Haldimand, Mrs. Marcet’s sister-in-law, and she, Peggy, sat and talked and told of how happy she was, and how good her mistress was, and we liked her simplicity and goodness of heart, but as I said before, all this did not forward my letter. Coach at the door. “Put on your hat, Maria, and come out and pay visits.”

  To save myself trouble, I send a list of the visits we made just as my mother marked them on the card by which we steered. GOD knows how I should steer without her. The crosses mark the three places where we were let in. Lady Milbanke is very agreeable, and has a charming well-informed daughter. Mrs. Weddell is a perfectly well-bred, most agreeable old lady, sister to Lady Rockingham, who lived in the Sir Joshua Reynolds set: tells anecdotes of Burke, Fox, and Windham — magnificent house — fine pictures. We spoke of having just seen the exhibition of Sir Joshua Reynolds’s pictures. “Perhaps if you are fond of paintings you would take the trouble of walking into the next room, and I will show you what gives me a particular interest in Sir Joshua Reynolds’s pictures.” Large folding-doors opened — large room full of admirable copies from Sir Joshua Reynolds in crayons, done by Mrs. Weddell herself. My mother says they are quite astonishing. Her conversation, as good as her painting, passed through many books lightly with touch-and-go ease. I mentioned a curious anecdote of Madame d’Arblay: that when she landed at Portsmouth, a few months ago, and saw on a plate at Admiral Foley’s a head of Lord Nelson, and the word Trafalgar, she asked what Trafalgar meant! She actually, as Lady Spencer told me, who had the anecdote from Dr. Charles Burney, did not know that the English had been victorious, or that Lord Nelson was dead! This is the mixed effect of the recluse life she led, and of the care taken in France to keep the people ignorant of certain events. I mentioned a similar instance in Thiebault’s Memoirs, of the Chevalier Mason, living at Potsdam, and not knowing anything of the Seven Years’ War. Then Mrs. Weddell went through Thiebault and Madame de Bareith’s Memoirs, and asked if I had ever happened to meet with an odd entertaining book, Madame de Baviere’s Memoirs. How little I thought, my dear Aunt Ruxton, when you gave me that book, that it would stand me in stead at Mrs. Weddell’s — we talked it over and had a great deal of laughing and diversion.

  Came home: found my father dressing to go to Sir Samuel Romilly’s — we two were to dine at Lady Levinge’s; while we were dressing a long note from Miss Berry, sent by her own maid, to apologise for a mistake of her servants who had said “not at home,” and to entreat we would look in on her this evening — much hurried. Lady
Levinge’s dinner, which was not on the table till eight o’clock, was very entertaining, because quite a new set of people. Called in the evening at Miss Berry’s — quite like French society, most agreeable — had a great deal of conversation with Lady Charlotte Lindsay. Mr. Ward was there, but I did not hear him. Went, shamefully late, to Mrs. Sneyd’s — then home: found my father in bed — stood at the foot of it, and heard his account of his dinner. Dr. Parr, Dumont, Malthus, etc., but I have not time to say more. I have been standing in my dressing-gown writing on the top of a chest of drawers, and now I must dress for a breakfast at Lady Davy’s, where we are to meet Lord Byron: but I must say, that at the third place where we were let in yesterday, Lady Wellington’s, we spent by far the most agreeable half-hour of the day.

  * * * * *

  Mrs. Edgeworth continues:

  One day, coming late to dinner at Mr. Horner’s, we found Dr. Parr very angry at our having delayed, and then interrupted dinner, but he ended by giving Maria his blessing. One of our pleasantest days was a breakfast at Mr. and Mrs. Carr’s, at Hampstead, where we met General and Mrs. Bentham, just come from Russia, full of interesting information. Maria also spent a day in the country with Sir Samuel and Lady Romilly — who was so beautiful and so engaging; and to this day’s happiness Maria often recurred. We met one evening at Lady Charleville’s Mrs. Abington, with whom Maria was much entertained; she recited two epilogues for us with exquisite wit and grace — she spoke with frankness and feeling of her career, when often after the triumph of success in some brilliant character, splendidly dressed, in the blaze of light, with thunders of applause, she quitted the theatre for her poor little lonely lodging — and admirably described her disenchanted, dispirited sensations.

  One morning Maria and I went to Westminster Abbey with some friends, among whom was Sir James Macintosh — only one morning; days might have been spent without exhausting the information he so easily, and with such enjoyment to himself, as well as to his hearers, poured forth with quotations, appropriate anecdotes, and allusions historical, poetical, and biographical, as we went along.

  We unfortunately missed seeing Madame d’Arblay, and we left London

  before the arrival of Madame de Staël. We went on the 16th of June to

  Clifton, where we spent some days with Mr. and Mrs. King. [Footnote: Mr.

  Edgeworth’s second daughter Emmeline.]

  From Clifton we went to Gloucester, where Maria took up a link of her former life, paying a visit to Mrs. Chandler, from whom she had received much kindness at Mr. Day’s when her eyes were inflamed. We then went on to Malvern, where Mrs. Beddoes [Footnote: The third daughter — Anna Edgeworth.] was then living.

  MARIA to MRS. RUXTON. MALVERN LINKS, June 1813.

  How good you have been, my dear aunt, in sparing Sophy to Edgeworthstown, and since you have been so good it is in encroaching human nature to expect that you will be still better, and that you and my uncle and Mag will come to Edgeworthstown for her; we shall be home in a fortnight. What joy, what delight to meet you among the dear faces who will welcome us there. The brilliant panorama of London is over, and I have enjoyed more pleasure and have had more amusement, infinitely more than I expected, and received more attention, more kindness than I could have thought it possible would be shown to me; I have enjoyed the delight of seeing my father esteemed and honoured by the best judges in England: I have felt the pleasure of seeing my true friend and mother, for she has been a mother to me, appreciated in the best society, and now with the fulness of content I return home, loving my own friends and my own mode of life preferably to all others, after comparison with all that is fine and gay, and rich and rare.

  We spent four days at Clifton with Emmeline, and if our journey to England had been productive of no other good, I should heartily rejoice at our having accomplished this purpose. My father was pleased and happy, and liked all his three grandchildren very much. You may imagine how much pleasure this gave me.

  We came here the day before yesterday, and have spent our time delightfully with Anna and her children, and now the carriage is at the door to take us to Mrs. Clifford’s. Yesterday we went to see Samuel Essington, [Footnote: The servant who was so faithful and so frightened at the time of the rebellion. He had saved some money and quitted the service of the Edgeworths in 1800.] at the Essington Hotel. He thought it was a carriage full of strangers and was letting down the steps when he beheld my father; his whole face glowed with delight, and the tears stood in his projecting eyes. “Master! Master, I declare! O sir, ma’am, miss, Mrs. Beddoes, Miss Edgeworth: how glad I am!”

  He showed us his excellent house, and walked us round his beautiful little lawn and shrubberies, all his own making; and cut moss roses and blush roses for us with such eagerness and delight. “And all, all owing to you, sir, that first taught me.”

  * * * * *

  Mrs. Edgeworth writes:

  At Mrs. Clifford’s we stayed some days — a beautiful country, not far from Ross which we visited, and Maria was delighted to see all the scenes of the Man of Ross. At Mrs. Clifford’s we had one day of most brilliant conversation between Maria, her father, and Sir James Macintosh, who had just come into that neighbourhood. He joined us, unexpectedly, one morning as we were walking out, and touching a shawl Mrs. Clifford wore, “A thousand looms,” he said, “are at work in Cashmere at this instant providing these for you.”

  MARIA to MRS. MARY SNEYD AT EDGEWORTHSTOWN. MRS. CLIFFORD’S, June 1813.

  Saturday Evening.

  Received Sneyd’s letter. [Footnote: Announcing his engagement to Miss Broadhurst. It was singular that this was the name of the heroine in Miss Edgeworth’s Absentee, who selected from her lovers the one who united worth and wit, in reminiscence of an epigram of Mr. Edgeworth on himself, concluding —

  There’s an edge to his wit and there’s worth in his heart.]

  Astonishment! Dear Sneyd, I hope he will be as happy as love and fortune can make him. All my ideas are thrown into such confusion by this letter that I can no more. We go to Derby on Tuesday.

  To MRS. RUXTON.EDGEWORTHSTOWN, July 26, 1813.

  I have delayed a few days writing to you in the expectation of the arrival of two frankers to send an extract from Dr. Holland’s last letter, which will, I hope, entertain you as much as it entertained us. I shall long to hear of our good friend Mrs. Elizabeth Hamilton’s visit to Black Castle.

  We have every reason to be in great anxiety at this moment about a certain trunk containing all our worldly duds, and “Patronage” to boot, but still I have not been able to work myself into any fears about it, though it is a month since we ought to have seen it, nor have we heard any news of it. In the meantime, as I cannot set about revising “Patronage,” I have begun a new series of Early Lessons [Footnote: The second parts of Frank, Rosamond, and Harry and Lucy.] for which many mothers told me they wished. I feel that I return with fresh pleasure to literary work from having been so long idle, and I have a famishing appetite for reading. All that we saw in London, I am sure I enjoyed while it was passing as much as possible, but I should be very sorry to live in that whirling vortex, and I find my taste and conviction confirmed on my return to my natural friends and my dear home.

  I am glad that some of those who showed us hospitality and kindness in England should have come so soon to Ireland, that we may have some little opportunity of showing our sense of their attentions. Lord Carrington, who franks this, is most amiable and benevolent, without any species of pretension, thinking the best that can be thought of everything and everybody. Mr. Smith, his son, whom we had not seen in London, accompanies him, and his tutor, Mr. Kaye, a Cambridge man, and Lord Gardner, Lord Carrington’s son-in-law, suffering from the gouty rheumatism, or rheumatic gout — he does not know or care which: but between the twitches of his suffering he is entertaining and agreeable.

  We have just seen a journal by a little boy of eight years old, of a voyage from England to Sicily: the boy is Lord Mahon’s son, Lord Ca
rrington’s grandson. [Footnote: Philip Henry, afterwards fifth Earl Stanhope, the historian.] It is one of the best journals I ever read, full of facts: exactly the writing of a child, but a very clever child. It is peculiarly interesting to us from having seen Dr. Holland’s letters from Palermo. Lord Mahon says that the alarm about the plague at Malta is much greater than it need be — its progress has been stopped: it was introduced by a shoemaker having, contrary to law and reason, surreptitiously brought some handkerchiefs from a vessel that had not performed quarantine. You will nevertheless rejoice that Dr. Holland did not go to Malta. How you will regret the loss of the portmanteau of which that vile Ali Pasha robbed him.

  Mr. Fox dined with us to-day, and was very agreeable. Lord Carrington and his travelling companions were at Farnham, where they were most hospitably received. They had no letters of introduction or intention of going there; but, finding a horrid inn at Cavan, they applied for charity to a gentleman for lodging. The gentleman took them to walk in Lord Farnham’s grounds. Lord and Lady Farnham saw and invited them to the house, and they are full of admiration and almost affection, I think, for Lord and Lady Farnham: they are so charmed by their hospitality, their goodness to the poor, their care of the young Foxes, their magnificent establishment, their neat cottages for their tenants, and, as Lord Gardner sensibly said, “their judicious economy in the midst of magnificence.”

  August 9.

  I like Mrs. Elizabeth Hamilton better than ever upon further acquaintance. She is what the French would call bonne à vivre: so good-humoured, so cheerful, so little disposed to exact attention or to take an authoritative tone in conversation, so ready to give everybody their merits, so indulgent for the follies and frailties, and so hopeful of the reformation of even the faults and vices of the world, that it is impossible not to respect and love her. She wins upon us daily, and mixes so well with this family, that I always forget she is a stranger.