I send a note from Lady Romilly, and one from Mr. Whishaw: the four
travellers mentioned in that note called upon us yesterday,--Mr. and
Mrs. Smith, of Easton Grey, Miss Bayley, and Mr. Fuller. Mrs. Smith is
stepdaughter to a certain Mrs. Chandler, who was very kind to me at Mrs.
Day's, and I was heartily glad to see her daughter, even stepdaughter,
at Edgeworthstown, and _my_ kind, dear, best of stepmothers seconded my
intentions to my very heart's wish: I am sure they went away satisfied.
I gave them a note to Lady Farnham, which will I think produce a note of
admiration! While these visitors were with us Mrs. Moutray came over
from Lissard, and we rejoiced in pride of soul to show them our Irish
Madame de Sevigné. _Her_ Madame de Grignan is more agreeable than ever.
Mrs. Moutray told me of a curious debate she heard between Lady C.
Campbell, Lady Glenbervie, and others, on the Modern Griselda, with
another lady, and a wager laid that she would not read it out to her
husband. Wager lost by skipping.
_To_ MRS. RUXTON.
_October 16._
I send you a letter of Joanna Baillie's; her simple style is so
different from the _fine_ or the _gossip_ style.
Did you ever hear this epigram, a translation from Martial?
Their utmost power the gods have shown,
In turning Niobe to stone:
But man's superior power you see,
Who turns a stone to Niobe.
Here is an epigram quite to my taste, elegant and witty, without
ill-nature or satire.
Barry Fox has come home with his regiment,[Footnote: Captain Fox had
been serving in Canada. On Buonaparte's return from Elba, his regiment,
the 97th, was summoned home. When the transport entered Plymouth
harbour, and the officers were told that Buonaparte was in the vessel
they had just sailed past, they thought it an absurd jest.] and is very
gentlemanlike.
_January 10, 1816._
The authoress of _Pride and Prejudice_ has been so good as to send to me
a new novel just published, _Emma._ We are reading _France in 1814 and
1815_, by young Alison and Mr. Tytler: the first volume good. We are
also reading a book which delights us all, though it is on a subject
which you will think little likely to be interesting to us, and on which
we had little or no previous knowledge. I bought it on Mr. Brinkley's
recommendation, and have not repented--Cuvier's _Theory of the Earth._
It is admirably written, with such perfect clearness as to be
intelligible to the meanest, and satisfactory to the highest capacity.
I have enlarged my plan of plays, which are not now to be for young
people merely, but rather _Popular Plays_, [Footnote: Published in 1817,
in one volume, containing "Love and Law."] for the same class as
_Popular Tales._ Excuse huddling things together. Mrs. O'Beirne, of
Newry, who has been here, told us a curious story. A man near Granard
robbed a farmer of thirty guineas, and hid them in a hole in the church
wall. He was hurried out of the country by some accident before he could
take off his treasure, and wrote to the man he had robbed and told him
where he had hid the money: "Since it can be of no use to me you may as
well have it." The owner of the money set to work _grouting_ under the
church wall, and many of the good people of Granard were seized with Mr.
Hill's fear there was a plot to undermine the church, and a great piece
of work about it.
_March 21._
I send a letter of Mrs. O'Beirne's, telling of Archdeacon de Lacy's
[Footnote: It happened that when Albertine de Staël was to be married to
M. de Broglie, at Florence, the only Protestant clergyman to be had was
Archdeacon de Lacy, son-in-law to Mrs. Moutray, the friend of Nelson and
Collingwood.] marrying Madame de Staël's daughter to the Duc de Broglie!
My father is pretty well to-day, and has been looking at a fine bed of
crocuses in full blow in my garden, and is now gone out in the carriage,
and I must have a _scene_ ready for him on his return.
I have been ever since you were here mending up the little plays;
cobbling work, which takes a great deal of time, and makes no show.
* * * * *
It was in January 1816 that Maria Edgeworth received a letter from Miss
Rachael Mordecai, of Richmond, Virginia, gently reproaching her with
having so often made Jews ridiculous in her writings, and asking her to
give a story with a good Jew. This was the origin of _Harrington_, and
the commencement of a correspondence with Miss Mordecai, and of a
friendship with her family.
* * * * *
_To_ MRS. RUXTON.
_July 24._
Mr. Strutt and his son have within these few minutes arrived here. He
wrote only yesterday to say that being at Liverpool, he would not be so
near Ireland without going to Edgeworthstown; I hope my father may be
able to enjoy their company, but he was very ill all last night and this
morning.
_August 25._
I lose not a moment, my dearest aunt, in communicating to you a piece of
intelligence which I am sure will give you pleasure: Lord Longford is
going to be married--to Lady Georgiana Lygon, daughter of Lord
Beauchamp. You will be glad to see the letter Lord Longford wrote upon
the occasion.
Everybody is writing and talking about Lord Byron, but I am tired of the
subject. _The all for murder, all for crime_ system of poetry will now
go out of fashion; as long as he appeared an outrageous mad villain he
might have ridden triumphant on the storm, but he has now shown himself
too base, too mean, too contemptible for anything like an heroic devil.
Pray, if you have an opportunity, read Haygarth's poem of "Greece." I
like it much, I like the mind that produced it; the poetry is not always
good, but there is a _spirit_ through the whole that sustains it and
that elevates and invigorates the mind of the reader.
_September_ 18.
You know, my dear aunt, it is a favourite opinion of my father's that
_things come in bundles:_ that _people_ come in bundles is, I think,
true, as, after having lived, without seeing a creature but our own
family for months, a press of company comes all at once. The very day
after the Brinkleys had come to us, and filled every nook in the house,
the enclosed letter was brought to me. I was in my own little den, just
beginning to write for an hour, as my father had requested I would, "let
who would be in the house." On opening the letter and seeing the
signature of Ward, I was in hopes it was the Mr. Ward who made the fine
speech and wrote the review of _Patronage_ in the _Quarterly_, and of
whom Madame de Staël said that he was the only man in England who really
understood the art of conversation. However, upon re-examining the
signature, I found that our gentleman who was waiting at the gate for an
answer was another Ward, who is called "the great R. Ward"--a very
gentlemanlike, agreeable man, full of anecdotes, bon-mots, and
compliments. I wish you had been here, for I think you would have been
entertained much, not only by his conversation, but by his character; I
never saw a man who had lived in the world so anxious about the opinions
which are formed of him by those with whom he is conversing, so quick at
discovering, by the countenance and by _implication_, what is thought of
him, or so incessantly alert in guarding all the suspected places in
your opinion. He disclaimed memory, though he has certainly the very
best of memories for wit and bon-mots that man was ever blessed with.
Mr. Ward was Under-secretary of State during a great part of Pitt's
administration, and has been one of the Lords of the Admiralty, and is
now Clerk of the Ordnance, and has been sent to Ireland to reform abuses
in the Ordnance. He speaks well, and in agreeable voice. He told me that
he had heard in London that I had a sort of Memoria Technica, by which I
could remember everything that was said in conversation, and by certain
motions of my fingers could, while people were talking to me, note down
all the ridiculous points!! He happened to have passed some time in his
early life at Lichfield, and knew Miss Seward, and Dr. Darwin, and
various people my father and aunts knew; so this added to his power of
making himself agreeable. Of all the multitude of good things he told
us, I can only at this moment recollect the lines which he repeated, by
Dr. Mansel, the Bishop of Bristol, on Miss Seward and Mr. Hayley's
flattery of each other:--
"Prince of poets, England's glory,
Mr. Hayley, _that_ is you!"
"Ma'am, you carry all before you,
Lichfield swan, indeed you do!"
"In epic, elegy, or sonnet,
Mr. Hayley, you're divine!"
"Madam, take my word upon it,
You yourself are all the Nine."
Some of his stories at dinner were so entertaining, that even old
George's face cut in wood could not stand it; and John Bristow and the
others were so bewildered, I thought the second course would never be on
the table.
_November 18._
We are reading one of the most entertaining and interesting and NEW
books I ever read in my life--Tully's _Residence in Tripoli_, written by
the sister of the consul, who resided there for ten years, spoke the
language, and was admitted to a constant intercourse with the ladies of
the seraglio, who are very different from any seraglio ladies we ever
before heard of. No Arabian tale is equal in magnificence and
entertainment; no tragedy superior in strength of interest to the
tragedy recorded in the last ten pages of this incomparable book. Some
people affect to disbelieve, and say it is manufactured; but it would be
a miracle that it was invented with such consistency.
_Jan 1817._
Mr. Knox has come and gone: two of the plays were read to him. My father
gave him a sketch of each, and desired him to choose: he chose the
genteel comedy, "The Two Guardians," and I read it; and those who sat by
told me afterwards that Mr. Knox's countenance showed he was much
amused, and that he had great sympathy. For my part, I had a _glaze_
before my eyes, and never once saw him while I was reading. He made some
good criticisms, and in consequence I altered one scene, and dragged out
Arthur Onslow by the head and heels--the good boy of the piece; and we
found he was never missed, but the whole much lightened by throwing this
heavy character overboard. Next night "The Rose, Thistle, and Shamrock":
Mr. Knox laughed, and seemed to enjoy it much.
* * * * *
Mr. Edgeworth was now failing rapidly, though as much interested as ever
in all that was going on around. "How I do enjoy my existence!" he often
exclaimed. His daughter, however, says that "he did not for his own sake
desire length of life: he only prayed that his mind might not decay
before his body," and it did not; his mental powers were as bright and
vigorous as ever to the last.
On the 16th of February Maria Edgeworth read out to her father the first
chapter of _Ormond_ in the carriage going to Pakenham Hall to see Lord
Longford's bride. It was the last visit that Mr. Edgeworth paid
anywhere. He had expressed a wish to his daughter that she should write
a story as a companion to _Harrington_, and in all her anguish of mind
at his state of health, she, by a remarkable effort of affection and
genius, produced the earlier gay and brilliant pages of _Ormond_--some
of the gayest and most brilliant she ever composed. The interest and
delight which her father, ill as he was, took in this beginning,
encouraged her to go on, and she completed the story. _Harrington_,
written as an apology for the Jews, had dragged with her as she wrote
it, and it dragged with the public. But in _Ormond_ she was on Irish
ground, where she was always at her very best. Yet the characters of
King Corny and Sir Ulick O'Shane, and the many scenes full of wit,
humour, and feeling, were written in agony of anxiety, with trembling
hand and tearful eyes. As she finished chapter after chapter, she read
them out--the whole family assembling in her father's room to listen to
them. Her father enjoyed these readings so exceedingly, that she was
amply rewarded for the efforts she made.
* * * * *
MARIA _to_ MISS RUXTON.