Complete Novels of Maria Edgeworth

by Maria Edgeworth

  Longford, Mr. Pakenham, and Major Edward Pakenham, have shown much

  warmth of friendship upon this occasion.

  Enclosed I send you a little sketch, which I traced from one my mother drew for her father, of the situation of the field of battle at Ballinamuck, it is about four miles from The Hills. My father, mother, and I rode to look at the camp; perhaps you recollect a pretty turn in the road, where there is a little stream with a three-arched bridge: in the fields which rise in a gentle slope, on the right-hand side of this stream, about sixty bell tents were pitched, the arms all ranged on the grass; before the tents, poles with little streamers flying here and there; groups of men leading their horses to water, others filling kettles and black pots, some cooking under the hedges; the various uniforms looked pretty; Highlanders gathering blackberries. My father took us to the tent of Lord Henry Seymour, who is an old friend of his; he breakfasted here to-day, and his plain English civility, and quiet good sense, was a fine contrast to the mob, etc. Dapple, [Footnote: Maria Edgeworth’s horse.] your old acquaintance, did not like all the sights at the camp as well as I did.

  Oct 3, ‘98.

  My father went to Dublin the day before yesterday, to see Lord Cornwallis about the Court of Enquiry on the sergeant who harangued the mob. About one o’clock to-day Lovell returned from the Assizes at Longford with the news, met on the road, that expresses had come an hour before from Granard to Longford, for the Reay Fencibles, and all the troops; that there was another rising and an attack upon Granard: four thousand men the first report said, seven hundred the second. What the truth may be it is impossible to tell, it is certain that the troops are gone to Granard, and it is yet more certain that all the windows in this house are built halfway up, guns and bayonets dispersed by Captain Lovell in every room. The yeomanry corps paraded to-day, all steady: guard sitting up in house and in the town to-night.

  Thursday Morning.

  All alive and well. A letter from my father: he stays to see Lord

  Cornwallis on Friday. Deficient arms for the corps are given by Lord

  Castlereagh.

  * * * * *

  Mrs. Edgeworth writes:

  The sergeant was to have been tried at the next sessions, but he was by this time ashamed and penitent, and Mr. Edgeworth did not press the trial, but knowing the man was, among his other weaknesses, very much afraid of ghosts, he said to him as he came out of the Court House, “I believe, after all, you had rather see me alive than have my ghost haunting you!”

  * * * * *

  In 1798 Practical Education was published in two large octavo volumes, bearing the joint names of Richard and Maria Edgeworth upon their title-page. This was the first work of that literary partnership of father and daughter which Maria Edgeworth describes as “the joy and pride of my life.”

  * * * * *

  MARIA to MISS SOPHY RUXTON. EDGEWORTHSTOWN, Nov. 19, ‘98.

  You have, I suppose, or are conscious that you ought to have, whitlows upon your thumb and all your four fingers for not writing to me! Tell me what you are saying and doing, and above all where you are going. My father has taken me into a new partnership — we are writing a comedy: will you come and see it acted? He is making a charming theatre in the room over his study: it will be twice as large as old Poz’s little theatre in the dining-room. My aunt’s woollen wig for old Poz is in high estimation in the memory of man, woman, and child here. I give you the play-bill:

  Mrs. Fangle (a rich and whimsical widow) Emmeline.

  Caroline (a sprightly heiress) Charlotte.

  Jemima (Mrs. Fangle’s waiting-maid) Bessy.

  Sir Mordant Idem (in love with Mrs. Fangle,

  and elderly, and hating anything new) Henry.

  Opal (nephew to Sir Mordant, and hating

  everything old, in love with Caroline,

  and wild for illuminatism) Sneyd.

  Count Babelhausen (a German illuminatus,

  trying to marry either Mrs. Fangle or

  Caroline) Lovell.

  Heliodorus and Christina (Mrs. Fangle’s } William

  children, on whom she tries strange } and

  experiments) } Honora.

  To explain illuminatism I refer you to Robinson’s book called Proofs of a Conspiracy. It was from this book, which gives a history of the cheats of Freemasonry and Illuminatism, that we took the idea of Count Babelhausen. The book is tiresome, and no sufficient proofs given of the facts, but parts of it will probably interest you.

  Lovell has bought a fine apparatus and materials for a course of chemical lectures which he is going to give us. The study is to be the laboratory: I wish you were in it.

  In the Monthly Review for October there is this anecdote. After the King of Denmark, who was somewhat silly, had left Paris, a Frenchman, who was in company with the Danish Ambassador, but did not know him, began to ridicule the King—”Ma foi! il a une tête! une tête—” “Couronnée,” replied the Ambassador, with presence of mind and politeness. My father, who was much delighted with this answer, asked Lovell, Henry, and Sneyd, without telling the right answer, what they would have said.

  Lovell: “A head — and a heart, sir.”

  Henry: “A head — upon his shoulders.”

  Sneyd: “A head — of a King.”

  Tell me which answer you like best. Richard will take your Practical

  Education to you.

  * * * * *

  The play mentioned in the foregoing letter was twice acted in January 1799, with great applause, under the title of Whim for Whim. Mr. Edgeworth’s mechanism for the scenery, and for the experiments tried on the children, were most ingenious. Mrs. Edgeworth painted the scenery and arranged the dresses.

  The day after the last performance of Whim for Whim, the family went to Dublin for Mr. Edgeworth to attend Parliament, the last Irish Parliament, he having been returned for the borough of St. John’s Town, in the County of Longford. In the spring Mrs. Edgeworth and Maria accompanied him to England.

  * * * * *

  To MISS CHARLOTTE SNEYD. DUBLIN, April 2, 1799.

  In the paper of to-night you will see my father’s farewell speech on the

  Education Bill.

  Some time ago, amongst some hints to the Chairman of the Committee of Education, you sent one which I have pursued: you said that the early lessons for the poor should speak with detestation of the spirit of revenge: I have just finished a little story called “Forgive and Forget,” upon this idea. I am now writing one on a subject recommended to me by Dr. Beaufort, on the evils of procrastination; the title of it is “By-and-Bye.” [Footnote: The title was afterwards changed to “To-morrow.”] I am very much obliged to Bessy and Charlotte for copying the Errata of Practical Education for me, and should be extremely obliged to the whole Committee of Education and Criticism at Edgeworthstown, if they would send corrections to me from their own brains; the same eye (if I may judge by my own) can only see the same things in looking over the book twenty times. Tell Sneyd that there is a political print just come out, of a woman, meant for Hibernia, dressed in orange and green, and holding a pistol in her hand to oppose the Union.

  MRS. EDGEWORTH to MRS. RUXTON. RICHMOND PLACE, CLIFTON, May 26, ‘99.

  We are very well settled here, and this house is quite retired and quite quiet. The prospects are very beautiful, and we have charming green fields in which we walk, and in which dear Sophy could botanise at her ease.

  A young man, a Mr. Davy,[Footnote: Sir Humphry Davy, the distinguished chemist and philosopher, born 1778, died 1829.] at Dr. Beddoes’, who has applied himself much to chemistry, has made some discoveries of importance, and enthusiastically expects wonders will be performed by the use of certain gases, which inebriate in the most delightful manner, having the oblivious effects of Lethe, and at the same time giving the rapturous sensations of the Nectar of the Gods! Pleasure even to madness is the consequence of this draught. But faith, great faith, is I believe necessary to produce any effect upon the drinkers,
and I have seen some of the adventurous philosophers who sought in vain for satisfaction in the bag of Gaseous Oxyd, and found nothing but a sick stomach and a giddy head.

  Our stay at Clifton was made very agreeable (writes Mrs. Edgeworth) by the charm of Dr. and Mrs. Beddoes’ society; [Footnote: Dr. Beddoes, described by Sir Humphry Davy as “short and fat, with nothing externally of genius or science,” was very peculiar. One of his hobbies was to convey cows into invalids’ bedrooms, that they might “inhale the breath of the animals,” a prescription which naturally gave umbrage to the Clifton lodging-house-keepers, who protested that they had not built or furnished their rooms for the hoofs of cattle. Mrs. Beddoes had a wonderful charm of wit and cheerfulness.] her grace, genius, vivacity, and kindness, and his great abilities, knowledge, and benevolence, rendered their house extremely pleasant. We met at Clifton Mr. and Mrs. Barbauld. He was an amiable and benevolent man, so eager against the slave-trade, that when he drank tea with us, he always brought some East India sugar, that he might not share our wickedness in eating that made by the negro slave. Mrs. Barbauld, whose Evenings at Home had so much delighted Maria and her father, was very pretty, and conversed with great ability in admirable language.

  MARIA to MRS. RUXTON. CLIFTON, June 5, 1799.

  Good news, my dearest aunt, my mother is fast asleep: she has a fine little daughter, who has just finished eating a hearty supper. At nine minutes before six this evening, to my great joy, my little sister Fanny came into the world.

  We are impatient for dear Sophy’s arrival. My father sends his kindest love to his dear sister, who has been always the sharer of his pains and pleasures. I said my mother was asleep, and though my father and I talk in our sleep, all people do not; if she did, I am sure she would say, “Love to my Sister Ruxton, and my friend Letty.”

  * * * * *

  During this summer the Edgeworths visited Dr. Darwin, whom Maria Edgeworth considered not only a first-rate genius, but one of the most benevolent, as well as wittiest of men. He stuttered, but far from this lessening the charm of his conversation, Miss Edgeworth used to say that the hesitation and slowness with which his words came forth added to the effect of his humour and shrewd good sense. Dr. Darwin’s sudden death, 17th April 1802, whilst he was writing to Mr. Edgeworth, was a great sorrow to his Irish friends.

  The family returned home in September 1799.

  * * * * *

  MARIA to MISS RUXTON, LIVING AT ARUNDEL IN SUSSEX. EDGEWORTHSTOWN, Jan, 29, 1800.

  More precious to us than Arundelian marbles are letters from Arundel, and after an interval of almost three months dear Sophy’s letter was most welcome. I have no complaints to make of you — sorrow bit of right have I to complain of you. Some time ago we took a walk to see the old castle of Cranalagh, from which in the last Rebellion (but one) Lady Edgeworth was turned out: part of it, just enough to swear by, remains to this day, and with a venerable wig of ivy at top cuts a very respectable figure; and, moreover, there are some of the finest laurels and hollies there that I ever saw, and as fine a smell of a pigsty as ever I smelt, and an arbor-vitae tree, of which I gathered a leaf, and thought that I and my gloves should never for the remainder of our lives get rid of the smell of bad apples, of which this same tree of life smells. But I have not yet come to the thing I was going to say about the castle of Cranalagh, viz. — for I love old-fashioned viz. — when we got near the ruined castle, out comes a barking dog, just such another as assailed us at the old castle near Black Castle, to which we walked full fifteen years ago; the first walk I ever took with Sophy, and how she got home without her shoe, to this hour I cannot comprehend. It was this barking dog which brought you immediately to my mind, and if I have given you too much of it you must forgive me. Now we are upon the subject of old castles, do you remember my retailing to you, at second hand, a description of my father’s visit to the Marquis de la Poype’s old château in Dauphiny, with the cavern of bats and stalactites? A little while ago my father received a letter in a strange hand, which I copy for my aunt and you, as I think it will please you as it did us, to see that this old friend of my father’s remembers him with so much kindness through all the changes and chances that have happened in France. The letter is from the Marquis de la Poype, who addressed it to the Abbé Edgeworth, in hopes that the Abbé could transmit it to my father — the lines at the end are in the Abbé’s own hand — the handwriting of so great and good a man is a curiosity.

  Before this reaches you my father will be in Dublin, he goes on Saturday next to the call of the House for the grand Union business. Tell my aunt that he means to speak on the subject on Monday. His sentiments are unchanged: that the Union would be advantageous to all the parties concerned, but that England has not any right to do to Ireland good against her will.

  Will you tell me what means you have of getting parcels from London to

  Arundel? because I wish to send to my aunt a few “Popular Tales,” which

  I have finished, as they cannot be wanted for some months by Mr. Johnson.

  We have begged Johnson to send Castle Rackrent, [Footnote: Published

  without the author’s name in 1800]. I hope it has reached you: do not

  mention to any one that it is ours. Have you seen Minor Morals, by

  Mrs. Smith? There is in it a beautiful little botanical poem called the

  “Calendar of Flora.”

  * * * * *

  Castle Rackrent, the story of an Irish estate, as told by Thady, the old steward, was first published anonymously in 1800. Its combination of Irish humour and pathos, and its illustration of the national character, first led Walter Scott to try his own skill in depicting Scottish character in the same way. “If I could,” he said to James Ballantyne, “but hit Miss Edgeworth’s wonderful power of vivifying all her persons, and making them live as beings in your mind, I should not be afraid.” With the publication of Castle Rackrent, which was intended to depict the follies of fashionable life, and was speedily followed by Belinda [Footnote: There is no doubt that Belinda was much marred by the alterations made by Mr. Edgeworth, in whose wisdom and skill his far cleverer daughter had unlimited and touching confidence.] the Edgeworths immediately became famous, and the books were at once translated into French and German.

  * * * * *

  MARIA EDGEWORTH to MISS SOPHY RUXTON. EDGEWORTHSTOWN, Oct. 20, 1800.

  This morning dear Henry [Footnote: Eldest son of Mrs. Elizabeth Edgeworth.] took leave of home, and set out for Edinburgh. “God prosper him,” as I in the language of a fond old nurse keep continually saying to myself.

  Mr. Chenevix, a famous chemist, was so good as to come here lately to see my father upon the faith of Mr. Kirwan’s assurance that he would “like Mr. Edgeworth.” I often wished for you, my dear Sophy, whilst this gentleman was here, because you would have been so much entertained with his conversation about bogs, and mines, and airs, and acids, etc. etc. His history of his imprisonment during the French Revolution in Paris, I found more to my taste. When he was thrown into prison he studied Chaptal and Lavoisier’s Chemistry with all his might, and then represented himself as an English gentleman come over to study chemistry in France, and M. Chaptal got him released, and employed him, and he got acquainted with all the chemists and scientific men in France. Mr. Chenevix has taken a house in Brook Street, London, and turned the cellar into a laboratory; the people were much afraid to let it to him, they expected he would blow it up.

  EDGEWORTHSTOWN,

  Dec. 2, 1800.

  My mother has had a sore throat, and Aunt Charlotte and Honora have had feverish attacks, and John Jenkins has had fever, so that my father was obliged to remove him to his own house in the village. There has been and is a fever in the lanes of Edgeworthstown, and so quickly does ill news fly, that this got before us to Collon, to the Speaker’s, where we were invited, and had actually set out last week to spend a few days there. When we got to Allenstown, we were told that a servant from the Speaker’s had arrived with a lette
r, and had gone on to Edgeworthstown with it: we waited for his return with the letter, which was to forbid our going to Collon, as Mrs. Foster, widow of the Bishop, was there with her daughters, and was afraid of our bringing infection! We performed quarantine very pleasantly for a week at Allenstown. Mrs. Waller’s inexhaustible fund of kindness and generosity is like Aboulcasin’s treasure, it is not only inexhaustible, but take what you will from it it cannot be perceptibly diminished. Harriet Beaufort [Footnote: Sister of Mrs. Edgeworth.] is indeed a charming excellent girl; I love and esteem her more and more as I know her better: she has been at different times between three and four months in the house with us, and I have had full opportunities of seeing down to the kitchen, and up to the garret of her mind.

  You are so near Johnson, [Footnote: The bookseller.] that you must of course know more of Maria’s sublime works than Maria knows of them herself; and besides Lovell, who thinks of them ten times more than Johnson, has not let you rest in ignorance. An octavo edition of Practical Education is to come out at Christmas: we have seen a volume, which looks as well as can be expected. The two first parts of Early Lessons, containing Harry and Lucy, two wee, wee volumes, have just come over to us. Frank and Rosamond will, I suppose, come after with all convenient speed. How Moral Tales are arranged, or in what size they are to appear, I do not know, but I guess they will soon be published, because some weeks ago we received four engravings for frontispieces; they are beautifully engraved by Neagle, and do justice to the designs, two of which are by my mother, and two by Charlotte. I hope you will like them. There are three stories which will be new to you, “The Knapsack,” “The Prussian Vase,” and “Angelina.”

  Now, my dear friend, you cannot say that I do not tell you what I am doing. My father is employed making out Charts of History and Chronology, such as are mentioned in Practical Education. He has just finished a little volume containing Explanations of Poetry for children: it explains “The Elegy in a Country Churchyard,” “L’Allegro,” “Il Penseroso,” and “The Ode to Fear.” It will be a very useful schoolbook. It goes over to-night to Johnson, but how long it will remain with him before you see it in print I cannot divine.