Maria must have been three years old this eventful Christmas time when
her father, leaving his wife in Berkshire, came to stay with Mr. Day at
Lichfield, and first made the acquaintance of Miss Seward and her poetic
circle. Mr. Day, who had once already been disappointed in love, and
whose romantic scheme of adopting his foundlings and of educating one of
them to be his wife, has often been described, had brought one of the
maidens to the house he had taken at Lichfield. This was Sabrina, as he
had called her. Lucretia, having been found troublesome, had been sent
off with a dowry to be apprenticed to a milliner. Sabrina was a charming
little girl of thirteen; everybody liked her, especially the friendly
ladies at the Palace, who received her with constant kindness, as they
did Mr. Day himself and his visitor. What Miss Seward thought of Sabrina's
education I do not know. The poor child was to be taught to despise
luxury, to ignore fear, to be superior to pain. She appears, however, to
have been very fond of her benefactor, but to have constantly provoked
him by starting and screaming whenever he fired uncharged pistols at
her skirts, or dropped hot melted sealing-wax on her bare arms. She
is described as lovely and artless, not fond of books, incapable of
understanding scientific problems, or of keeping the imaginary and
terrible secrets with which her guardian used to try her nerves. I do
not know when it first occurred to him that Honora Sneyd was all that
his dreams could have imagined. One day he left Sabrina under many
restrictions, and returning unexpectedly found her wearing some garment
or handkerchief of which he did not approve, and discarded her on the
spot and for ever. Poor Sabrina was evidently not meant to mate and soar
with philosophical eagles. After this episode, she too was despatched,
to board with an old lady, in peace for a time, let us hope, and in
tranquil mediocrity.
Mr. Edgeworth approved of this arrangement; he had never considered that
Sabrina was suited to his friend. But being taken in due time to call at
the Palace, he was charmed with Miss Seward, and still more by all he
saw of Honora; comparing her, alas! in his mind 'with all other women,
and secretly acknowledging her superiority.' At first, he says, Miss
Seward's brilliance overshadowed Honora, but very soon her merits grew
upon the bystanders.
Mr. Edgeworth carefully concealed his feelings except from his host, who
was beginning himself to contemplate a marriage with Miss Sneyd. Mr.
Day presently proposed formally in writing for the hand of the lovely
Honora, and Mr. Edgeworth was to take the packet and to bring back the
answer; and being married himself, and out of the running, he appears to
have been unselfishly anxious for his friend's success. In the packet
Mr. Day had written down the conditions to which he should expect his
wife to subscribe. She would have to begin at once by giving up all
luxuries, amenities, and intercourse with the world, and promise to
continue to seclude herself entirely in his company. Miss Sneyd does not
seem to have kept Mr. Edgeworth waiting long while she wrote her answer
decidedly saying that she could not admit the unqualified control of a
husband over all her actions, nor the necessity for 'seclusion from
society to preserve female virtue.' Finding that Honora absolutely
refused to change her way of life, Mr. Day went into a fever, for which
Dr. Darwin bled him. Nor did he recover until another Miss Sneyd,
Elizabeth by name, made her appearance in the Close.
Mr. Edgeworth, who was of a lively and active disposition, had
introduced archery among the gentlemen of the neighbourhood, and he
describes a fine summer evening's entertainment passed in agreeable
sports, followed by dancing and music, in the course of which Honora's
sister, Miss Elizabeth, appeared for the first time on the Lichfield
scene, and immediately joined in the country dance. There is a vivid
description of the two sisters in Mr. Edgeworth's memoirs, of the
beautiful and distinguished Honora, loving science, serious, eager,
reserved; of the more lovely but less graceful Elizabeth, with less of
energy, more of humour and of social gifts than her sister. Elizabeth
Sneyd was, says Edgeworth, struck by Day's eloquence, by his unbounded
generosity, by his scorn of wealth. His educating a young girl for his
wife seemed to her romantic and extraordinary; and she seems to have
thought it possible to yield to the evident admiration she had aroused
in him. But, whether in fun or in seriousness, she represented to him
that he could not with justice decry accomplishments and graces that he
had not acquired. She wished him to go abroad for a time to study to
perfect himself in all that was wanting; on her own part she promised
not to go to Bath, London, or any public place of amusement until his
return, and to read certain books which he recommended.
Meanwhile Mr. Edgeworth had made no secret of his own feeling for Honora
to Mr. Day, 'who with all the eloquence of virtue and of friendship'
urged him to fly, to accompany him abroad, and to shun dangers he could
not hope to overcome. Edgeworth consented to this proposal, and the two
friends started for Paris, visiting Rousseau on their way. They spent
the winter at Lyons, as it was a place where excellent masters of all
sorts were to be found; and here Mr. Day, with excess of zeal--
put himself (says his friend) to every species of torture,
ordinary and extraordinary, to compel his Antigallican limbs, in
spite of their natural rigidity, to dance and fence, and manage
the _great horse_. To perform his promise to Miss E. Sneyd
honourably, he gave up seven or eight hours of the day to these
exercises, for which he had not the slightest taste, and for
which, except horsemanship, he manifested the most sovereign
contempt. It was astonishing to behold the energy with which he
persevered in these pursuits. I have seen him stand between two
boards which reached from the ground higher than his knees: these
boards were adjusted with screws so as barely to permit him to
bend his knees, and to rise up and sink down. By these means Mr.
Huise proposed to force Mr. Day's knees outwards; but screwing was
in vain. He succeeded in torturing his patient; but original
formation and inveterate habit resisted all his endeavours at
personal improvement. I could not help pitying my philosophic
friend, pent up in durance vile for hours together, with his feet
in the stocks, a book in his hand, and contempt in his heart.
Mr. Edgeworth meanwhile lodged himself 'in excellent and agreeable
apartments,' and occupied himself with engineering. He is certainly
curiously outspoken in his memoirs; and explains that the first Mrs.
Edgeworth, Maria's mother, with many merits, was of a complaining
disposition, and did not make him so happy at home as a woman of a more
lively temper might have succeeded in doing. He was tempted, he said, to
look for happiness elsewhere than in his home. Perhaps domestic affairs
may have been complicated by a warm-hearted but troublesome little son,
who at Day's suggestion had been brought up upon the Rousseau system,
and was in consequence quite unmanageable, and a worry to everybody.
Poor Mrs. Edgeworth's complainings were not to last very long. She
joined her husband at Lyons, and after a time, having a dread of
lying-in abroad, returned home to die in her confinement, leaving four
little children. Maria could remember being taken into her mother's room
to see her for the last time.
Mr. Edgeworth hurried back to England, and was met by his friend Thomas
Day, who had preceded him, and whose own suit does not seem to have
prospered meanwhile. But though notwithstanding all his efforts Thomas
Day had not been fortunate in securing Elizabeth Sneyd's affections, he
could still feel for his friend. His first words were to tell Edgeworth
that Honora was still free, more beautiful than ever; while Virtue and
Honour commanded it, he had done all he could to divide them; now he
wished to be the first to promote their meeting. The meeting resulted in
an engagement, and Mr. Edgeworth and Miss Sneyd were married within four
months by the benevolent old canon in the Lady Chapel of Lichfield
Cathedral.
Mrs. Seward wept; Miss Seward, 'notwithstanding some imaginary
dissatisfaction about a bridesmaid,' was really glad of the marriage, we
are told; and the young couple immediately went over to Ireland.