The Life And Letters Of Maria Edgeworth, Vol. 1 by Maria Edgeworth

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Saw Milton's original MSS. of his lesser poems, and his letters and his
plan of a tragedy on the subject of _Paradise Lost_, which tragedy I
rejoice he did not write. I have not such delight in seeing the
handwriting of great authors and great folk as some people have; besides
by this time I had become very hungry, and was right glad to accept Mr.
Smedley's proposal that we should repair to his rooms and take some
sandwiches.

Rested, ate, talked, looked at the engravings of Clarke's marbles, and
read the account of how these ponderous marbles had been transported to
England. We saw the marbles themselves. The famous enormous head of
Ceres must have belonged to a gigantic statue, and perhaps at a great
height may have had a fine effect. It is in a sadly mutilated condition;
there is no face; the appearance of the head in front is exactly like
that of Sophy's doll, whose face has peeled off, yet Clarke strokes it
and talks of its beautiful _contour._ The hair is fine, and the figure,
from its vast size, may be sublime.

After having recruited our strength, we set out again to the
Vice-Chancellor Davis's, to see a famous picture of Cromwell. As we
knocked at his Vice-Chancellorship's door, Mr. Smedley said to me, "Now,
Miss Edgeworth, if you would but settle in Cambridge! here is our
Vice-Chancellor a bachelor ... _do_ consider about it."

We went upstairs; found the Vice-Chancellor's room empty; had leisure
before he appeared to examine the fine picture of Cromwell, in which
there is more the expression of greatness of mind and determination than
his usual character of hypocrisy. This portrait seems to say, "Take away
that bauble," not "We are looking for the corkscrew."

The Vice-Chancellor entered, and such a wretched, pale, unhealthy object
I have seldom beheld! He seemed crippled and writhing with rheumatic
pains, hardly able to walk. After a few minutes had passed, Mr. Smedley
came round to me and whispered, "Have you made up your mind?" "Yes,
quite, thank you."

Now for the beauty of Cambridge--the beauty of beauties--King's College
Chapel! On the first entrance I felt silenced by admiration. I never saw
anything at once so beautiful and so sublime. The prints give a good
idea of the beauty of the spandrilled ceiling, with its rich and light
ornaments; but no engraved representation can give an idea of the effect
of size, height, and _continuity_ of grandeur in the whole building.
Besides, the idea of DURATION, the sublime idea of having lasted for
ages, is more fully suggested by the sight of the real building than it
can be by any representation or description: for which reason I only
tell you the effect it had upon my mind.

The organ began to play an anthem of Handel's while we were in the
chapel: I wished for you, my dear Sneyd, particularly at that moment!
Your friend took us up the hundred stairs to the roof, where he was
delighted with the sound of the organ and the chanting voices rising
from the choir below. My father was absorbed in the mechanical wonders
of the roof: that stone roof, of which Sir Christopher Wren said, "Show
me how the first stone was laid, and I will show you how the second is
laid."

Mr. Smedley exclaimed, "Is not the sound of the organ fine?" To which my
father, at cross purposes, answered, "Yes, the iron was certainly added
afterwards."

Mr. Smedley at once confessed that he had no knowledge or taste for
mechanics, but he had the patience and good-nature to walk up and down
this stone platform for three-quarters of an hour. He stood observing my
mother's very eager examination with my father of the defects in the
wooden roof, and pointing out where it had been cut away to admit the
stone, as a proof that the stone roof had been an afterthought; and at
last turned to me with a look of astonishment. "Mrs. Edgeworth seems to
have this taste for mechanics _too._" He spoke of it as a kind of mania.
So I nodded at him very gravely, and answered, "Yes, you will find us
all tinctured with it, more or less." At last, to Mr. Smedley's great
joy, he got my father alive off this roof, and on his way to Downing,
the new college of which Leslie Foster talked so much, and said was to
be like the Parthenon. Shockingly windy walk: thought my brains would
have been blown out. Passed Peter House, and saw the rooms in which Gray
lived, and the irons of his fire-escape at the window. Warned Mr.
Smedley of the danger of my father being caught by a coachmaker's yard
which we were to pass. My father overheard me, laughed, and contented
himself with a side glance at the springs of gigs, and escaped that
danger. I nearly disgraced myself, as the company were admiring the
front of Emmanuel College, by looking at a tall man stooping to kiss a
little child. Got at last, in spite of the wind and coachmakers' yards,
within view of Downing College, and was sadly disappointed. It will
never bear comparison with King's College Chapel.

Home to dinner: Mr. Farish and Mr. Smedley were very agreeable and
entertaining, and _did_ very well together, though such different
persons. Mr. Farish is the most primitive, simple-hearted man I ever
saw.

The bells were ringing in honour of Professor Farish's election, or, as
Mr. Smedley said, at the Professor's expense.

Farish insisted upon it very coolly that they were not ringing for him,
but for a shoulder of mutton.

"A shoulder of mutton! what do you mean?"

"Why, a man left to the University a shoulder of mutton for every
Thursday, on condition that the bells should always ring for him on that
day: so this is for the shoulder of mutton."

Mr. Farish paid us no compliments in words, but his coming to spend the
evening with us the day of his election, when I suppose he might have
been feasted by all the grand and learned in the University, was, I
think, the greatest honour my father has received since he came to
England; and so he felt it.

I suppose you know that Mr. Smedley has published minutes of the trial
of that Mr. Kendal who was accused of having set fire to Sidney College,
and who, though brought off by the talents of Garrow, was so generally
thought to be guilty, and to have only escaped by a quirk of the law,
that he has been expelled the University. What a strange thing that this
trial at Cambridge and that in Dublin, of incendiaries, [Footnote: The
trial in Dublin was that of "Moscow Cavendish."] should take place
within so short a time of each other! It seems as if the fashion of
certain crimes prevailed at certain times.

"Good-bye, Mr. Smedley! I hope you like us half as well as we liked
you." We thought it well worth our while to have come thirty miles out
of our way to see him and Cambridge, and you, Sneyd, have the thanks of
the whole party for your advice.

In passing through the village of Trumpington, and just as we came
within sight of Dr. Clarke's house, [Footnote: Edward Daniel Clarke,
1769-1822, one of the most distinguished travellers of the eighteenth
century, was Professor of Mineralogy at Cambridge.] I urged my father to
call upon him.

"Without an introduction, and two ladies with me! No, with all my
impudence, my dear Maria, I cannot do that."

"Oh, do! you will repent afterwards if you do not: we shall never have
another opportunity of seeing him."

"Well, at your peril, then, be it."

He let down the glass, and ordered the postillion to drive up to Dr.
Clarke's house. I quailed in the corner the moment I heard the order
given, but said nought. Out jumped my father, and during two or three
minutes whilst he was in the house, and my mother and I waiting in the
carriage at the door, I was in an agony. But it was soon over; for out
came little Dr. Clarke flying to us, all civility, and joy, and
gratitude, and honour, and pleasure, "ashamed and obliged," as he handed
us up the steps and into a very elegant drawing-room.

I do not know whether you have seen him, but from the print I had
imagined he was a large man, with dark eyes and hair, and a penetrating
countenance. No such thing: he is a little, square, pale, flat-faced,
good-natured-looking, fussy man, with very intelligent eyes, yet great
credulity of countenance, and still greater benevolence. In a moment he
whisked about the different rooms upstairs and down, to get together
books, sketches, everything that could please us; and Angelica's
drawings--she draws beautifully.

Angelica herself, Mrs. Clarke, is a timid, dark, soft-eyed woman, with a
good figure. I am told it is rude to say a person is very clean, but I
may praise Angelica for looking elegantly clean, brilliantly white, with
a lace Mary Queen of Scots cap, like that which I am sure you remember
on Lady Adelaide Forbes. She received us with timid courtesy, but her
timidity soon wore off, and the half-hour we spent here made us wish to
have spent an hour. Dr. Clarke seemed highly gratified that his travels
in Greece had interested us so much: showed us the original drawings of
Moscow, and a book of views of the ruins at Athens by the draughtsman
who went out with the Duc de Choiseul Gouffier--beautifully done; mere
outlines, perfectly distinct, and giving, I think, better architectural
ideas than we have from more finished and flattered drawings.

We were sorry not to see more, and glad we had seen so much, of Dr.
Clarke and his Angelica, and his fine little boy about five years old. A
tall, dark-eyed, fine fashionable-looking man, Dr. Clarke introduced to
us as Mr. Walpole. My father entered into conversation with him, and
found he had known Captain Beaufort in the Mediterranean.

When we were going away, Dr. Clarke, between my mother and me, seemed
puzzled how to get us both into the carriage at once; but he called to
Mr. Walpole. "Walpole, put this lady into the carriage."

And with a "Meadows" air he obeyed.

Now we are again on the London road, and nothing interrupted our perusal
_Pride and Prejudice_ for the rest of the morning. I am desired not to
give you my opinion of _Pride and Prejudice_, but desire you to get it
directly, and tell us yours.

_To_ MISS RUXTON.

LONDON, _May 1813._

I fear Madame de Staël's arrival may be put off till after we leave
town. The Edinburgh review of her book has well prepared all the world
for her. The first persons who came to see us were Sir Humphry and Lady
Davy, who have been uniformly and zealously kind and attentive to us. We
have been frequently at their dinners and parties, and I should fill a
roll as long as that genealogy Foote unrolled across the stage, if I
were to give you a list of the names of all the people we have met at
their house. Of Lord Byron I can tell you only that his appearance is
nothing that you would remark. The Miss Berrys are all that you have
heard of them from people of various tastes; consequently you know that
they are well bred, and have nice tact in conversation. Miss Catharine
Fanshaw I particularly like; she has delightful talents. Her drawings
have charmed my mother, full of invention as well as taste; her "Village
School" and "Village Children at Play" are beautiful compositions, and
her drawings for the Bath Guide are full of humour and character.

Lady Crewe has still the remains of much beauty. Except her dress, which
happened to be blue, there appeared to be nothing else _blue_ about her.
The contrast between her really fashionable air and manners and that of
the _strugglers_ and imitators struck me much: Lady Elizabeth Whitbread
is, in one word, delightful. Miss Fox very agreeable--converses at once,
without preface or commonplace: Lady Charlotte Lindsay ditto: Lady
Darnley has been very polite in her attentions: both Lord and Lady
Hardwicke peculiarly gracious. Lord Somerville I cannot help being
charmed with, for he says he is charmed with Lady Delacour and Lady
Geraldine, whom he pronounces to be perfect women of fashion, and says
they are in high repute in the equerry's room at Court. He was quite
indignant against certain pretenders to fashion. I told him the remark
of a friend of ours, that a gentleman or gentlewoman cannot be made
under two generations. "In less than _five_, madam, I think it scarcely
possible," said he.

Lady Lansdowne, taking in beauty, character, conversation, talents, and
manners, I think superior to any woman I have seen; perfectly natural,
daring to be herself, gentle, sprightly, amiable, and engaging. Lydia
Whyte has been very kind to us, and eager to bring together people who
would suit and please us: very agreeable dinner at her house; she
conducts these _bel esprit_ parties well; her vivacity breaks through
the constraint of those who stand upon great reputations, and are afraid
of committing themselves.

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.

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