Whilst you, my dear Miss Beaufort, have been toiling in Dublin, my
father has been delighting himself in preparations for June. The little
boudoir looks as if it intends to be pretty. This is the only room in
the house which my father will allow to be finished, as he wishes that
your taste should finish the rest. Like the man who begged to have the
eclipse put off, we have been here praying to have the spring put off,
as this place never looks so pretty as when the lilacs and laburnums are
in full flower. I fear, notwithstanding all our prayers, that their
purple and yellow honours will be gone before your arrival. There is one
other flower which I am sure will not be in blow for you, "a little
western flower called love in idleness." Amongst the many kindnesses my
father has shown me, the greatest, I think, has been his permitting me
to see his heart _à découverte_; and I have seen, by your kind sincerity
and his, that, in good and cultivated minds, love is no _idle_ passion,
but one that inspires useful and generous energy. I have been convinced
by your example of what I was always inclined to believe, that the power
of feeling affection is increased by the cultivation of the
understanding. The wife of an Indian yogii (if a yogii be permitted to
have a wife) might be a very affectionate woman, but her sympathy with
her husband could not have a very extensive sphere. As his eyes are to
be continually fixed upon the point of his nose, hers in duteous
sympathy must squint in like manner; and if the perfection of his virtue
be to sit so still that the birds (_vide_ Sacontala) may unmolested
build nests in his hair, his wife cannot better show her affection than
by yielding her tresses to them with similar patient stupidity. Are
there not European yogiis, or men whose ideas do not go much further
than _le bout du nez_? And how delightful it must be to be chained for
better for worse to one of this species! I should guess--for I know
nothing of the matter--that the courtship of an ignorant lover must be
almost as insipid as a marriage with him; for "my jewel" continually
repeated, without new setting, must surely fatigue a little.
You call yourself, dear Miss Beaufort, my friend and companion: I hope
you will never have reason to repent beginning in this style towards me.
I think you will not find me encroach upon you. The overflowings of your
kindness, if I know anything of my own heart, will fertilise the land,
but will not destroy the landmarks. I do not know whether I most hate or
despise the temper which will take an ell where an inch is given. A
well-bred person never forgets that species of respect which is due to
situation and rank: though his superiors in rank treat him with the
utmost condescension, he never is "Hail fellow well met" with them; he
never calls them Jack or Tom by way of increasing his own consequence.
I flatter myself that you will find me gratefully exact _en belle
fille._ I think there is a great deal of difference between that species
of ceremony which exists with acquaintance, and that which should always
exist with the best of friends: the one prevents the growth of
affection, the other preserves it in youth and age. Many foolish people
make fine plantations, and forget to fence them; so the young trees are
destroyed by the young cattle, and the bark of the forest trees is
sometimes injured. You need not, dear Miss Beaufort, fence yourself
round with very strong palings in this family, where all have been early
accustomed to mind their boundaries. As for me, you see my intentions,
or at least my theories, are good enough: if my Practice be but half as
good, you will be content, will you not? But Theory was born in
Brobdingnag, and Practice in Lilliput. So much the better for _me._ I
have often considered, since my return home, as I have seen all this
family pursuing their several occupations and amusements, how much you
will have it in your power to add to their happiness. In a stupid or
indolent family, your knowledge and talents would be thrown away; here,
if it may be said without vanity, they will be the certain source of
your daily happiness. You will come into a new family, but you will not
come as a stranger, dear Miss Beaufort: you will not lead a new life,
but only continue to lead the life you have been used to in your own
happy, cultivated family.
* * * * *
Mr. Edgeworth and Miss Beaufort were married 31st May 1798 at St. Anne's
Church in Dublin. Mrs. Edgeworth writes:
When we set off from the church door for Edgeworthstown, the rebellion
had broken out in many parts of Ireland.
Soon after we had passed the second stage from Dublin, one of the
carriage wheels broke down. Mr. Edgeworth went back to the inn, then
called the Nineteen-mile House, [Footnote: Now Enfield: a railway
station.] to get assistance. Very few people were to be found, and a
woman who was alone in the kitchen came up to him and whispered, "The
boys (the rebels) are hid in the potato furrows beyond." He was rather
startled at this intelligence, but took no notice. He found an ostler
who lent him a wheel, which they managed to put on, and we drove off
without being stopped by any of _the boys._ A little farther on I saw
something very odd on the side of the road before us. "What is
that?"--"Look to the other side--don't look at it!" cried Mr. Edgeworth;
and when we had passed he said it was a car turned up, between the
shafts of which a man was hung--murdered by the rebels.
We reached Edgeworthstown late in the evening. The family at that time
consisted of the two Miss Sneyds, Maria, Emmeline, Bessy, Charlotte
(Lovell was then at Edinburgh), Henry, Sneyd, Honora, and William. Sneyd
was not twelve years old, and the other two were much younger. All
agreed in making me feel at once at home, and part of the family; all
received me with the most unaffected cordiality: but from Maria it was
something more. She more than fulfilled the promise of her letter; she
made me at once her most intimate friend; and in all the serious
concerns of life, and in every trifle of the day, treated me with the
most generous confidence.
MARIA _to_ MISS SOPHY RUXTON IN NORTH WALES.