When shall we two meet again? This is a question which occurs to me much
oftener than even you think, and it always comes into my mind when I am
in any society I peculiarly like, or when I am reading any book
particularly suited to my taste and feelings; and now it comes _á
propos_ to the Bishop of Meath and Mrs. O'Beirne and _The Lady of the
Lake._ By great good fortune, and by the good-nature of Lady Charlotte
Rawdon, we had _The Lady of the Lake_ to read just when the O'Beirnes
were with us. A most delightful reading we had; my father, the Bishop,
and Mr. Jephson reading it aloud alternately. It is a charming poem: a
most interesting story, generous, finely-drawn characters, and in many
parts the finest poetry. But for an old prepossession--an unconquerable
prepossession--in favour of the old minstrel, I think I should prefer
this to either the _Lay_ or _Marmion._ Our pleasure in reading it was
increased by the sympathy and enthusiasm of the guests.
Have you read, or tried to read, Mademoiselle de l'Espinasse's three
volumes of Letters? and have you read Madame du Deffand? [Footnote: The
blind friend and correspondent of Horace Walpole.] Some of the letters
in her collection are very entertaining; those of the Duchesse de
Choiseul, the Comte de Broglie, Sir James Macdonald, and a few of Madame
du Deffand's: the others are full of _fade_ compliments and tiresome
trifling, but altogether curious as a picture of that profligate,
heartless, brilliant, and _ennuyed_ society. There is in these letters,
I think, a stronger picture of _ennui_ than in Alfieri's _Life._ Was his
passion for the Countess of Albany, or for horses, or for pure Tuscan,
the strongest? or did not he love NOTORIETY better than all three?
_Sept._ 1810.
Sir Thomas and Lady Ackland spent a day here: he is nephew to my friend
Mrs. Charles Hoare. He says he is twenty-three, but he looks like
eighteen.
To MISS RUXTON.
_Oct. 1810._
We have had a visit from Captain Pakenham, the Admiral's son, this week:
I like him. I was particularly pleased with his respectful manner to my
father. He has some of his father's quickness of repartee, but with his
_own_ manner--no affectation of his father's style. We were talking of a
Mrs. ----. "What," said I, "is she alive still? The last time I saw her
she seemed as if she had lived that one day longer by particular
desire."--"I am sure, then," said Captain Pakenham, in a slow, gentle
voice,--"I am sure, then, I cannot tell at _whose desire._"
I have been hard at work at Mrs. Leadbeater: I fear my notes are
rubbish.
* * * * *
Mrs. Edgeworth writes:
Mrs. Leadbeater, the Quaker lady who lived at Ballitore, whose father
had been tutor to Edmund Burke, and whose Letters have been published,
wrote to Maria this year, asking her advice about a book she had
written, _Cottage Dialogues_, and sent the MS. to her. Mr. Edgeworth
was so much pleased with it, that Maria offered, at Mr. Edgeworth's
suggestion, to add a few notes to give her name to the book; and it was
published by Johnson's successor with great success.
Mr. Edgeworth, Maria, and I went this autumn to Kilkenny to see the
amateur theatricals, with which we were much delighted. Mr. Edgeworth,
who remembered Garrick, said he never saw such tragic acting as Mr.
Rothe, in _Othello_: how true to nature it was, appeared from the
observation of our servant, Pat Newman, who had never seen a play
before, when Mr. Edgeworth asked him if he did not pity the poor woman
smothered in bed: "It was a pity of her, but I declare I pitied the man
the most." The town was full to overflowing, but we were most hospitably
received, though our friends the O'Beirnes were their guests, by Doctor
and Mrs. Butler. He had been a friend of Mr. Edgeworth's when he lived
in the county of Longford, and she had been, when Miss Rothwell, a
Dublin acquaintance of mine. This visit to Kilkenny was rich in
recollections for Maria: the incomparable acting, the number of
celebrated people there assembled, the supper in the great gallery of
old grand Kilkenny Castle, the superb hospitality, the number of
beautiful women and witty men, the gaiety, the spirit, and the
brilliancy of the whole, could have been seen nowhere else.
MISS EDGEWORTH _to_ MISS RUXTON.