The Life and Letters of Maria Edgeworth, Vol. 2 by Maria Edgeworth

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I forgot to tell you that Lady Elizabeth Belgrave, [Footnote: Daughter
of the first Duke of Sutherland] as pretty and winning as ever, came to
see us with Lady Stafford; and yesterday, the third time of calling at
her door, I was told by a pimpled, red-blotched door-holder that "her
ladyship was not at home," but after he had turned the card to another
form out of livery, he said, "My lady is at home to you, ma'am." So up
we went, and she was very entertaining, with fresh observations from
Paris, and much humour. She said she was sure there was some peculiar
charm in the sound of the clinking of their swords in walking up and
down the gallery of the Tuileries, which the old stupid ones pace every
day for hours. She says she has met with much grateful attention from
the royal family, and many of the French whom she had formerly known,
but cannot give entertainments, because they have not the means. The
Count d'Artois apologised; he has no separate dinner--always dined with
the King, and "_very_ sorry for it." Lady Stafford asked us all to
dinner, but we were engaged to Mr. Morritt. She is to ask again after
our return from the Deepdene, where we spend Monday and Tuesday with the
dear Hopes.

_To_ MRS. RUXTON.

8 HOLLES STREET, _April 10, 1822._

The great variety of society in London, and the solidity of the sense
and information to be gathered from conversation, strike me as far
superior to Parisian society. We know, I think, six different and
totally independent sets, of scientific, literary, political, travelled,
artist, and the fine fashionable, of various shades; and the different
styles of conversation are very entertaining.

Through Lydia White we have become more acquainted with Mrs. Siddons
than I ever expected to be. She gave us the history of her first acting
of _Lady Macbeth_, and of her resolving, in the sleep scene, to lay down
the candlestick, contrary to the precedent of Mrs. Pritchard and all the
traditions, before she began to wash her hands and say, "Out, vile
spot!" Sheridan knocked violently at her door during the five minutes
she had desired to have entirely to herself, to compose her spirits
before the play began. He burst in, and prophesied that she would ruin
herself for ever if she persevered in this resolution _to lay down the
candlestick!_ She persisted, however, in her determination, succeeded,
was applauded, and Sheridan begged her pardon. She described well the
awe she felt, and the power of the excitement given to her by the sight
of Burke, Fox, Sheridan, and Sir Joshua Reynolds in the pit. She invited
us to a private reading-party at her own house: present only her
daughter, a very pretty young lady, a Mrs. Wilkinson, Mr. Burney, Dr.
Holland, Lydia White, Mr. Harness and ourselves. She read one of her
finest parts, and that best suited to a private room--Queen Katherine.
She was dressed so as to do well for the two parts she was to perform
this night, of gentlewoman and queen--black velvet, with black velvet
cap and feathers. She sat the whole time, and with a large Shakespear
before her; as she knew the part of Katherine by heart, she seldom
required the help of glasses, and she recited it incomparably well: the
changes of her countenance were striking. From her first burst of
indignation when she objects to the Cardinal as her judge, to her last
expiring scene, was all so perfectly natural and so touching, we could
give no applause but tears. Mrs. Siddons is beautiful even at this
moment. Some who had seen her on the stage in this part assured me that
it had a much greater effect upon them in a private room, because they
were near enough to see the changes of her countenance, and to hear the
pathos of her half-suppressed voice. Some one said that, in the dying
scene, her very pillow seemed sick.

She spoke afterwards of the different parts which she had liked and
disliked to act; and when she mentioned the characters and scenes she
had found easy or difficult, it was curious to observe that the feelings
of the actress and the sentiments and reasons of the best critics meet.
Whatever was not natural, or inconsistent with the main part of the
character, she found she never could act well.

We spent three days at Easter at the Deepdene; the company there were
Mr. C. Moore, Mr. Philip Henry Hope, Mr. and Miss Burrowes, Mr. Harness,
Lord Fincastle, Lady Clare, and Lady Isabella Fitzgibbon, and Lord
Archibald Hamilton. Deepdene is beautiful at this time of the year--the
hawthorn hedges, the tender green of the larch and the sycamore in full
leaf.

To MRS. EDGEWORTH.

HOLIES STREET, _April 20._

We are going at two o'clock, and it is now half-past one, to a private
view of Sir John Swinburne's pictures, and we are to dine nine miles out
of town, at Flasket House, with Mrs. Fry.

Barry Fox came yesterday to Grove House, and looked much like a
gentleman, as he is, and seemed pleased with his cousins, as well he
might be.

I wish, my dearest mother, you would write a note to Dr. Holland in your
next; he has been so kind and sympathising. [Footnote: On the death of
Miss Edgeworth's beloved "aunt", Mrs. Charlotte Sneyd of
Edgeworthstown.] Miss Bessy Holland has come to stay some weeks with her
brother--good for her, and for us; she is very amiable. I find a card
from Jeffrey was left here while we were at Grove House.

Just returned from water--colour pictures; some of Prout's of old towns
abroad, like Chester; met there--not at Chester--Lord Grey, Wilkie,
Mulready, Lord Radstock, and the Miss Waldegraves, and Lady Stafford,
who has more ready and good five minutes' conversation than anybody I
know. She says the French have lost all their national recollections; in
travelling through France she asked for various places famous in
history, of which they had lost all memory.

Carriage at the door, and I have not begun to dress!

_April 24._

The day before yesterday we saw Mrs. Tuite at Lady Sunderlin's. They
have an admirable house. Miss Kitty Malone sees, and is most grateful
for it.

Mrs. Fry's place at Flasket is beautiful, and she is delightful at home
or at Newgate.

Paid a visit to Lady Derby; full as agreeable as when we saw her, half
as fat, and twice as old; asked most kindly for you, and received your
daughters with gracious grace.

Monday, went with Mr. Cohen and Mr. Cockerell to St. Paul's; he showed
us his renovations done in excellent taste. Dined at Miss White's with
Mr. Luttrell, Mr. Hallam, Mr. Sharpe, and Mr. and Mrs. Stewart
Nicholson; she is Lady Davy's half-sister. Most agreeable conversation;
no dinners more agreeable than Lydia White's. Poor creature! how she can
go through it I cannot imagine, she is dying. It is dreadful to look at
her!

In the evening at Miss Stable's, Anna's friend; met there Mrs. Cunliffe,
who was Miss Crewe, very agreeable and, though not regularly handsome,
very pleasing in countenance and person.

Tuesday, spent a happy hour at the Museum. We dined at Mrs. Marcet's,
with only herself and children. Then to an "at home," at Mrs. Ricardo's,
merely for ten minutes to see the famous Mr. Hume. Don't like him much;
attacks all things and persons, never listens, has no judgment.

_May 3._

Since Harriet last wrote we have been to Harrow to hear the speeches of
the first class of boys, our future orators. It was a very interesting
scene, attended by many ladies, as well as gentlemen. Two of the
speeches were from _Henry IV.,_ one the crown tried on, well repeated.
The situation of the school is beautiful, the lawn laid out with great
taste; the master, Dr. Butler, a very well-informed agreeable man, with
a picturesque head. We had a very elegant collation, and I sat beside a
very agreeable thin old nobleman of the old school, Lord Clarendon. Upon
the whole, after hearing the speeches and recitations of these youths, I
said to myself, how much better my father taught to read and recite than
any of these masters can.

_May 10._

The sudden death of the Primate [Footnote: Hon. William Stuart,
Archbishop of Armagh, fifth son of the third Earl of Bute; he married
Sophia, daughter of Thomas Penn of Stoke Poges.] and the horrible
circumstances attending it have incapacitated me from any more
home-writing at this moment. Mrs. Stuart gave him the medicine; he had
twice asked for his draught, and when she saw the servant come in she
ran down, seized the bottle and poured it out without looking at the
label, which was most distinct "for external application." When dying,
and when struggling under the power of the opium, he called for a pencil
and wrote these words for a comfort to his wife: "I could not have lived
long, my dear love, at all events."

_May 22._

I enclose a note from Lady Louisa Stuart, the Primate's sister; it is
most touching, especially the account of the feelings of his
parishioners.

We have been at the Caledonian ball--Harriet has written a description
of it to Pakenham; and also to a very pleasant dance at Mrs. Shaw
Lefevre's, [Footnote: Daughter of Lady Elizabeth Whitbread, married to
Charles Shaw Lefevre, afterwards Viscount Eversley.] where Fanny and
Harriet had good partners.

I have subscribed £10 to the Irish poor subscription. Spring Rice, whom
I very much like, tells me he has been touched to the heart by the
generous eagerness with which the English merchants and city people have
contributed to this fund. A very large sum is already at his disposal,
and he has wisely considered that if this money be not judiciously
applied it will do more harm than good. He has done me the honour to
consult me about his plan, of which I enclose a copy.

At Captain Kater's breakfast yesterday we met Greenough, Captain
Beaufort, Warburton, and young Herschel, a man of great
abilities,[Footnote: Afterwards Sir John Herschel, the famous astronomer
and philosopher.] to whom Sir Humphry Davy paid an elegant compliment
the other day in a speech as President to the Royal Society. "His father
must rejoice in such a son, who secures to him a double immortality."

Just received yours of the 17th. Curious that you should have been
saying to me the same thing I was saying to you about the Irish
subscriptions. Poor Peggy Mulheeran! her letter is most pathetic. Fanny
and Harriet are at this moment dining at dear Mrs. Lushington's, and I
am going alone to a dinner at _Lydia's,_ to meet Sidney Smith--_they_
come in the evening. We met Lady Byron lately at Mrs. Lushington's.
Dinner at Lord and Lady Darnley's--all manner of attention. Greenough
has been most kind; admirable collection of fossils--taking out all his
thousand drawers for us. Bellman.

_May 28._

In the hurried life we have led for some weeks past, and among the great
variety of illustrious and foolish people we have seen pass in rapid
panoramas before us, some remain for ever fixed in the memory, and some
few touch the heart. We have just breakfasted with Spring Rice and Lady
Theodosia. She has a placid, amiable, and winning countenance--pretty
curly-haired children, such as you or Sir Joshua would paint.

At this breakfast were Mr. Rice's sister, Lady Hunt, a charming woman.
Mr. Grant, our late secretary, with sense, goodness, and indolence in
his countenance, and Mr. Randolph, the American, very tall and thin, as
if a stick instead of shoulders stretched out his coat; his hair tied
behind with a black ribbon, but not pigtailed, it flows from the ribbon,
like old Steele's, with a curl at the end, mixed brown and gray; his
face wrinkled like a peach-stone, but all pliable, muscles moving with
every sensation of a feeling soul and lively imagination; quick dark
eyes, with an indefinable expression of acquired habitual sedateness, in
despite of nature; his tone of voice mild and repressed, yet in this
voice he speaks thoughts that breathe and words that burn; he is one of
the most eloquent men I ever heard speak, and there is a novelty in his
view of things, and in his new world of allusions, in art and nature,
which is highly interesting.

Besides the pleasure we should naturally have taken in his conversation,
we have been doubly pleased by his gratifying attention to ourselves,
and, my dearest mother, still more by the manner in which he
distinguished your Francis,[Footnote: Her half-brother, son of Mrs.
Edgeworth.] who was with us. Spring Rice told us that Mr. Abercromby,
who had met him at Joanna Baillie's, told him he was one of the finest
and most promising boys he had ever seen.

Do, for heaven's sake, some good soul or body, write forthwith to Black
Castle, and learn whether Aunt Ruxton likes the gown I sent her--gray
cloth. If not, I will get her another.

FROGNEL, HAMPSTEAD, _June 3._

A few lines ever so short and hurried are better than none. We gave up
our house and paid all our bills on Saturday; left London and came to
Frognel [Footnote: To Mr. Carr's]--delicious Frognel! Hay-making--profusion
of flowers--rhododendrons as fine as four of mine, flowering down to the
grass. All our friends with open arms on steps in the verandah to receive
us.

A large party of Southebys, etc., including Mrs. Tuite, put by for
future description. Second day: Wollaston, Dr. and Miss Holland. Harriet
sat beside Wollaston at dinner, and he talked unusually, veiling for her
the terror of his beak and lightning of his eye. He has indeed been very
kind and amiable in distinguishing your daughters as worth speaking to.

To-day I came to town with Mrs. Carr, and my sisters, and the Miss
Carrs, and they went to a Prison Discipline meeting to hear Macintosh
speak; but I was not able to go, and have done worlds of business since.

We have changed our plans a little: going to Portsmouth first, and to
Slough on our return; we were to have gone by Slough, but the Prince of
Denmark and the King going to Ascot took up all horses and beds, so we
were obliged to go the other road.

51 MANCHESTER STREET, LONDON,

_June 10_.

We have accomplished, much to our satisfaction, our long-intended
journey to Portsmouth. On Tuesday, at nine o'clock in the morning, we
found ourselves according to appointment, in our own dear carriage, at
your brother's door, and he and Francis seated themselves on the
barouche seat. The weather was bronzing and melting hot, but your
brother would insist on being bronzed and melted there during the heat
of the day, in a stoical style disdaining a parasol, though why it
should be more unmanly to use a parasol than a parapluie I cannot, for
the sense of me, understand.

Lady Grey, wife of the commissioner--he is away--ordered all the works
and dockyard to be open to us, and the Government boat to attend upon
us; saw the _Nelson_--just finished; and went over the _Phaeton_, and
your brother showed us his midshipman's berth and his lieutenant's
cabin. And now for the Block machinery, you will say, but it is
impossible to describe this in a letter of moderate or immoderate size.
I will only say that the ingenuity and successful performance far
surpassed my expectations. Machinery so perfect appears to act with the
happy certainty of instinct and the foresight of reason combined.

We took a barge to the Isle of Wight--charming day. You take a sociable,
and the _Felicity-hunter_ goes in it as far as the horses can take him.
It was the most gratifying thing to me to see "Uncle Francis" and all of
them so happy. We slept at Steephill; and in the morning went to see
Carisbrook Castle. Dined at Portsmouth with Sir James and Lady Lyon.

But oh, my dear mother, at the little pretty flowery-lawned inn where we
dined on our way to Slough, as your brother was reading the newspaper,
he came to the death of our dear Mr. Smith, of Easton Grey. At Sir
Benjamin Hobhouse's, a few months ago, he was the gayest of the gay, and
she the fondest and happiest of wives.

At Slough we saw the great telescope--never used now. Drove to
Windsor--building and terrace equal to my expectations. At night the
clouds were so good as to disperse, and we saw a double star.

* * * * *

Miss Edgeworth's wonderful conversational powers, combined with her
homely aspect, and perfectly unassuming manners, made a great impression
upon many of those who met her in London. Ticknor says of Maria
Edgeworth: "There was a life and spirit about her conversation, she
threw herself into it with such _abandon_, she retorted with such
brilliant repartee, and, in short, she talked with such extraordinary
flow of natural talent, that I don't know whether anything of the kind
could be finer."

On 27th June Miss Edgeworth returned with her half-sisters to
Edgeworthstown, taking up the thread of her domestic affairs as if there
had been no interruption, and she immediately set to work on the sequel
to _Harry and Lucy_.

* * * * *

MARIA _to_ MRS. RUXTON.

EDGEWORTHSTOWN, _July 23, 1822_.

Honora is staying at Lough Glyn with Mr. and Mrs. Strickland; they are
making judicious and incessant exertions for the relief of the poor and
the improvement of the people in their neighbourhood. It is very
extraordinary that, in the part of the County of Monaghan to which Mr.
Strickland went last week for flax seed for the poor tenants in his
neighbourhood, he found that there is plenty of everything--no distress
felt. The famine seems to have been as capricious as the malaria in
passing over some places and settling upon others. Here we go on in our
parish without having recourse to public subscription.

_August 7_.

We have just returned, all of us, from walking two miles on the
Mullingar road, in hopes of meeting Francis, who was expected in a
chaise from Mullingar, as the coach _sleeps_ there. Just as we had
reached the hall door by moonlight, in despair, we heard a doubtful
noise, which none but a maternal ear--a very nice ear on some
occasions--could judge whether of cart or chaise: it was a chaise, with
Francis in it; and here he is, one of the most agreeable and happy boys
I ever saw.

I have written to Walter Scott, claiming his promise of coming here; but
I doubt his being in Ireland: I agree with you that his play is very
stupid. Joanna Baillie [Footnote: Halidon Hill] suggested the subject,
and he wrote it as a contribution to a miscellany formed of
_voluntaries_ from all the poets and wits of the day, to make a fund for
some widowed friend of hers in great distress. He wrote it with good
intentions; but, as Madame de Staël says, "Les bons intentions ne sont
pour rien dans les ouvrages d'esprit."

Never read _The Lollards_ if it falls in your way, unless you like to
see John Huss burned over again. What pleasure have people in such
horrid subjects?

You ask me what I am doing besides _Early Lessons_, and if I have made
any progress in "Travellers." [Footnote: A tale she had thought of
writing, but she never even made a sketch of it.] Do you think, my
dearest aunt, that I can write _Early Lessons_ with my left hand and
"Travellers" with my right? You have too good an opinion of my
dexterity. I assure you it is all I can do to satisfy myself tolerably
as I go on with this sequel to _Harry and Lucy_, which engages all my
attention. I am particularly anxious to finish that _well_, as it was
my dear father's own and _first_ book. As it must be more scientific
than the other _Early Lessons_, it is more difficult to me, who have so
little knowledge on those subjects, and am obliged to go so warily, lest
I should teach error, or pretend to teach what I do not know. I have
written about fifty pages. I fear you will not like it as well as you
were so kind as to like _Frank_. I could never be easy writing anything
else for my own amusement till I have done this, which I know my father
wished to have finished. You will see in Dr. Holland's letter some
admirable hints for "Travellers," and I expect many more, from you, dear
aunt: we will talk it over in the days of October. How many things we
have talked over together! _Rackrent_ especially, which you first
suggested to me, and encouraged me to go on with.

_August 10_.

My dear aunt, I know how you must have been shocked when you heard of
the manner of Lord Londonderry's death. As Dr. Holland says, "If we were
to have looked from one end of the British Empire to the other, we could
not have pitched on an individual that seemed less likely to commit
suicide."

Whitbread, Sir Samuel Romilly, Lord Londonderry--all to perish in the
same manner!

_Sept. 10_.

In this frank you will receive a copy of a very interesting letter from
Fanny Stewart. The post and steam vessels bring the most distant parts
of the world now so much within our reach that friends cannot be much
more separated by being at "Nova Zembla, or the LORD knows where," than
by being in different counties of the same kingdom. There is Fanny
Stewart dining with Sneyd's friends, the Bishop of Quebec's family; and
young Mountain was in Switzerland when we were at Interlachen with Sneyd
and Henrica, and the year before at Ardbraccan and Edgeworthstown.
Things are odd till they pair off, and so become even. Sneyd and
Henrica, who were at Geneva, have been invited to the Baron Polier's,
near Lausanne, the brother of Madame de Montolieu, whom I told you of.
Madame Polier was the intimate friend of an intimate friend of
Henrica's, Miss French, of Derby, who has married a Cambridge friend of
Sneyd's, Mr. Smedley, and they are now on a visit at the said Madame
Polier's--a Derbyshire party in the heart of Switzerland, and by various
connections _felted_ together!

When Honora is on the sofa beside you, make her give you an account of
Francis's play, _Catiline_, which he and Fanny, and Harriet and Sophy,
and James Moilliet and Pakenham _got up_ without our being in the
secret, and acted the night before last, as it were impromptu, to our
inexpressible surprise and pleasure. Francis, during his holidays with
us in London, used to be often scribbling something; but I never
inquired or guessed what it was. Fanny and Harriet, in the midst of the
hurry of London dissipation, and of writing all manner of notes, etc.,
for me, and letters home innumerable, contrived to copy out fair for him
all his scraps; and when put together they made a goodly tragedy in two
acts, wonderfully well written for his age--some parts, for any age,
excellent.

After tea the library became empty suddenly of all the young people. My
aunt Mary, my brother Lovell, and I remaining with Quin, who had dined
here, talking on, never missed them; and the surprise was as great as
heart could wish when my mother put into our hands the play-bills, and
invited us to follow her to her dressing-room.

CATILINE,

A Tragedy, in Two Acts.

Catiline (in love with Aurelia) Francis.
Cato (father of Aurelia) Pakenham.
Cicero (in love with Aurelia) Harriet.
Caesar Moilliet.
Aurelia (daughter of Cato) Sophy.
Julia (wife to Cato) Fanny.

We found Lucy on her sofa, with her feet towards the green-house; a
half-circle of chairs for the audience, with their backs touching the
wardrobe--candlestick-footlights, well shaded with square sofa-cushions
standing on end.

Prologue spoken by Harriet; curtain drew back, and Catiline and Aurelia
appeared. Fanny had dressed Francis, from Kennet's _Antiquities_, out of
an old rag-chest, and a more complete little Roman figure I never saw,
though made up no mortal can tell how, like one of your own doings, dear
aunt, with a crown of ilex leaves. Aurelia was perfectly draped in my
French crimson shawl; she looked extremely classical and pretty, and her
voice was so sweet, and her looks alternately so indignant to Catiline
and so soft when she spoke of the man she loved, that I do not wonder
Catiline was so desperately enamoured.

Pakenham was wonderful: he had received no instructions. They had
determined to leave him to himself, and see what would come of it. He
had brought down an old wig from the garret, and Catiline and Cato could
not settle which it became best or worst; so Catiline wore his ilex
crown, and Pakenham a scarlet cap and black velvet cloak, his eyebrows
and chin darkened, a most solemn, stern countenance, a roll of white
paper in his hand, the figure immovable, as if cut in stone: the soul of
Cato seemed to have got into him. I never heard any actor speak better,
nor did I ever see a part better sustained; it seemed as if one saw Cato
through a diminishing glass. In one scene he interrupts Cicero, who is
going off into a fine simile--"Enough: the tale." He said these three
words so well, with such severity of tone, and such a piercing look,
that I see and hear him still. His voice was as firm as a man's, and his
self-possession absolute. He had his part so perfectly, that he was as
independent of the prompter as of all the rest of the world.

Moilliet recited and played his part of Caesar wondrous well. You may
think how well Pakenham and all of them must have acted, when we could
stand the ridicule of Pakenham's Cato opposite to Moilliet's Caesar. One
of James Moilliet's eyes would have contained all the eyes of Cato,
Catiline, and Cicero. Fanny, as Julia, was beautiful.

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