The Life and Letters of Maria Edgeworth Volume I Part 6

_May 26, '99._

We are very well settled here, and this house is quite retired and quite quiet. The prospects are very beautiful, and we have charming green fields in which we walk, and in which dear Sophy could botanise at her ease.

A young man, a Mr. Davy,[Footnote: Sir Humphry Davy, the distinguished chemist and philosopher, born 1778, died 1829.] at Dr. Beddoes', who has applied himself much to chemistry, has made some discoveries of importance, and enthusiastically expects wonders will be performed by the use of certain gases, which inebriate in the most delightful manner, having the oblivious effects of Lethe, and at the same time giving the rapturous sensations of the Nectar of the G.o.ds! Pleasure even to madness is the consequence of this draught. But faith, great faith, is I believe necessary to produce any effect upon the drinkers, and I have seen some of the adventurous philosophers who sought in vain for satisfaction in the bag of _Gaseous Oxyd_, and found nothing but a sick stomach and a giddy head.

Our stay at Clifton was made very agreeable (writes Mrs. Edgeworth) by the charm of Dr. and Mrs. Beddoes' society; [Footnote: Dr. Beddoes, described by Sir Humphry Davy as "short and fat, with nothing _externally_ of genius or science," was very peculiar. One of his hobbies was to convey cows into invalids' bedrooms, that they might "inhale the breath of the animals," a prescription which naturally gave umbrage to the Clifton lodging-house-keepers, who protested that they had not built or furnished their rooms for the hoofs of cattle. Mrs.

Beddoes had a wonderful charm of wit and cheerfulness.] her grace, genius, vivacity, and kindness, and his great abilities, knowledge, and benevolence, rendered their house extremely pleasant. We met at Clifton Mr. and Mrs. Barbauld. He was an amiable and benevolent man, so eager against the slave-trade, that when he drank tea with us, he always brought some East India sugar, that he might not share our wickedness in eating that made by the negro slave. Mrs. Barbauld, whose _Evenings at Home_ had so much delighted Maria and her father, was very pretty, and conversed with great ability in admirable language.

MARIA _to_ MRS. RUXTON.

CLIFTON, _June 5, 1799._

Good news, my dearest aunt, my mother is fast asleep: she has a fine little daughter, who has just finished eating a hearty supper. At nine minutes before six this evening, to my great joy, my little sister f.a.n.n.y came into the world.

We are impatient for dear Sophy's arrival. My father sends his kindest love to his dear sister, who has been always the sharer of his pains and pleasures. I said my mother was asleep, and though my father and I talk in our sleep, all people do not; if she did, I am sure she would say, "Love to my Sister Ruxton, and my friend Letty."

During this summer the Edgeworths visited Dr. Darwin, whom Maria Edgeworth considered not only a first-rate genius, but one of the most benevolent, as well as wittiest of men. He stuttered, but far from this lessening the charm of his conversation, Miss Edgeworth used to say that the hesitation and slowness with which his words came forth added to the effect of his humour and shrewd good sense. Dr. Darwin's sudden death, 17th April 1802, whilst he was writing to Mr. Edgeworth, was a great sorrow to his Irish friends.

The family returned home in September 1799.

MARIA _to_ MISS RUXTON, LIVING AT ARUNDEL IN SUSs.e.x.

EDGEWORTHSTOWN,

_Jan, 29, 1800._

More precious to us than Arundelian marbles are letters from Arundel, and after an interval of almost three months dear Sophy's letter was most welcome. I have no complaints to make of you--_sorrow_ bit of right have I to complain of you. Some time ago we took a walk to see the old castle of Cra.n.a.lagh, from which in the last Rebellion (but one) Lady Edgeworth was turned out: part of it, just enough to swear by, remains to this day, and with a venerable wig of ivy at top cuts a very respectable figure; and, moreover, there are some of the finest laurels and hollies there that I ever saw, and as fine a smell of a pigsty as ever I smelt, and an arbor-vitae tree, of which I gathered a leaf, and thought that I and my gloves should never for the remainder of our lives get rid of the smell of bad apples, of which this same tree of life smells. But I have not yet come to the thing I was going to say about the castle of Cra.n.a.lagh, viz.--for I love old-fashioned viz.--when we got near the ruined castle, out comes a barking dog, just such another as a.s.sailed us at the old castle near Black Castle, to which we walked full fifteen years ago; the first walk I ever took with Sophy, and how she got home without her shoe, to this hour I cannot comprehend. It was this barking dog which brought you immediately to my mind, and if I have given you too much of it you must forgive me. Now we are upon the subject of old castles, do you remember my retailing to you, at second hand, a description of my father's visit to the Marquis de la Poype's old chateau in Dauphiny, with the cavern of bats and stalact.i.tes? A little while ago my father received a letter in a strange hand, which I copy for my aunt and you, as I think it will please you as it did us, to see that this old friend of my father's remembers him with so much kindness through all the changes and chances that have happened in France. The letter is from the Marquis de la Poype, who addressed it to the Abbe Edgeworth, in hopes that the Abbe could transmit it to my father--the lines at the end are in the Abbe's own hand--the handwriting of so great and good a man is a curiosity.

Before this reaches you my father will be in Dublin, he goes on Sat.u.r.day next to the call of the House for the grand Union business. Tell my aunt that he means to speak on the subject on Monday. His sentiments are unchanged: that the Union would be advantageous to all the parties concerned, but that England has not any right to do to Ireland _good against her will._

Will you tell me what means you have of getting parcels from London to Arundel? because I wish to send to my aunt a few "Popular Tales," which I have finished, as they cannot be wanted for some months by Mr. Johnson.

We have begged Johnson to send _Castle Rackrent_, [Footnote: Published without the author's name in 1800]. I hope it has reached you: do not mention to any one that it is ours. Have you seen _Minor Morals_, by Mrs. Smith? There is in it a beautiful little botanical poem called the "Calendar of Flora."

_Castle Rackrent_, the story of an Irish estate, as told by Thady, the old steward, was first published anonymously in 1800. Its combination of Irish humour and pathos, and its ill.u.s.tration of the national character, first led Walter Scott to try his own skill in depicting Scottish character in the same way. "If I could," he said to James Ballantyne, "but hit Miss Edgeworth's wonderful power of vivifying all her persons, and making them live as _beings_ in your mind, I should not be afraid."

With the publication of _Castle Rackrent_, which was intended to depict the follies of fashionable life, and was speedily followed by _Belinda_ [Footnote: There is no doubt that _Belinda_ was much marred by the alterations made by Mr. Edgeworth, in whose wisdom and skill his far cleverer daughter had unlimited and touching confidence.] the Edgeworths immediately became famous, and the books were at once translated into French and German.

MARIA EDGEWORTH _to_ MISS SOPHY RUXTON.

EDGEWORTHSTOWN,

_Oct. 20, 1800._

This morning dear Henry [Footnote: Eldest son of Mrs. Elizabeth Edgeworth.] took leave of home, and set out for Edinburgh. "G.o.d prosper him," as I in the language of a fond old nurse keep continually saying to myself.

Mr. Chenevix, a famous chemist, was so good as to come here lately to see my father upon the faith of Mr. Kirwan's a.s.surance that he would "like Mr. Edgeworth." I often wished for you, my dear Sophy, whilst this gentleman was here, because you would have been so much entertained with his conversation about bogs, and mines, and airs, and acids, etc. etc.

His history of his imprisonment during the French Revolution in Paris, I found more to my taste. When he was thrown into prison he studied Chaptal and Lavoisier's _Chemistry_ with all his might, and then represented himself as an English gentleman come over to study chemistry in France, and M. Chaptal got him released, and employed him, and he got acquainted with all the chemists and scientific men in France. Mr.

Chenevix has taken a house in Brook Street, London, and turned the cellar into a laboratory; the people were much afraid to let it to him, they expected he would blow it up.

EDGEWORTHSTOWN,

_Dec. 2, 1800._

My mother has had a sore throat, and Aunt Charlotte and Honora have had feverish attacks, and John Jenkins has had fever, so that my father was obliged to remove him to his own house in the village. There has been and is a fever in the lanes of Edgeworthstown, and so quickly does ill news fly, that this got before us to Collon, to the Speaker's, where we were invited, and had actually set out last week to spend a few days there. When we got to Allenstown, we were told that a servant from the Speaker's had arrived with a letter, and had gone on to Edgeworthstown with it: we waited for his return with the letter, which was to forbid our going to Collon, as Mrs. Foster, widow of the Bishop, was there with her daughters, and was afraid of our bringing infection! We performed quarantine very pleasantly for a week at Allenstown. Mrs. Waller's inexhaustible fund of kindness and generosity is like Aboulcasin's treasure, it is not only inexhaustible, but take what you will from it it cannot be perceptibly diminished. Harriet Beaufort [Footnote: Sister of Mrs. Edgeworth.] is indeed a charming excellent girl; I love and esteem her more and more as I know her better: she has been at different times between three and four months in the house with us, and I have had full opportunities of seeing down to the kitchen, and up to the garret of her mind.

You are so near Johnson, [Footnote: The bookseller.] that you must of course know more of Maria's sublime works than Maria knows of them herself; and besides Lovell, who thinks of them ten times more than Johnson, has not let you rest in ignorance. An octavo edition of _Practical Education_ is to come out at Christmas: we have seen a volume, which looks as well as can be expected. The two first parts of _Early Lessons_, containing Harry and Lucy, two wee, wee volumes, have just come over to us. Frank and Rosamond will, I suppose, come after with all convenient speed. How _Moral Tales_ are arranged, or in what size they are to appear, I do not know, but I guess they will soon be published, because some weeks ago we received four engravings for frontispieces; they are beautifully engraved by Neagle, and do justice to the designs, two of which are by my mother, and two by Charlotte. I hope you will like them. There are three stories which will be new to you, "The Knapsack," "The Prussian Vase," and "Angelina."

Now, my dear friend, you cannot say that I do not tell you what I am doing. My father is employed making out Charts of History and Chronology, such as are mentioned in _Practical Education._ He has just finished a little volume containing Explanations of Poetry for children: it explains "The Elegy in a Country Churchyard," "L'Allegro," "Il Penseroso," and "The Ode to Fear." It will be a very useful schoolbook.

It goes over to-night to Johnson, but how long it will remain with him before you see it in print I cannot divine.

Mrs. Edgeworth narrates:

_Belinda_ was published in 1801. Maria was at Black Castle when the first copy reached her; she contrived, before her aunt saw it, to tear out the t.i.tle-pages of the three volumes, and her aunt read it without the least suspicion of who was the author, and excessively entertained and delighted, she insisted on Maria's listening to pa.s.sage after pa.s.sage as she went on. Maria affected to be deeply interested in some book she held in her hand, and when Mrs. Ruxton exclaimed, "Is not that admirably written?" Maria coldly replied, "Admirably read, I think." And then her aunt, as if she had said too much, added, "It may not be so very good, but it shows just the sort of knowledge of high life which people have who live in the world." Then again and again she called upon Maria for her sympathy, till quite provoked at her faint acquiescence, she at last accused her of being envious: "I am sorry to see my little Maria unable to bear the praises of a rival author."

At this Maria burst into tears, and showing her aunt the t.i.tle-page she declared herself the author. But Mrs. Ruxton was not pleased--she never liked _Belinda_ afterwards, and Maria had always a painful recollection of her aunt's suspecting her of the meanness of envy.

In 1801 a second edition of _Castle Rackrent_ was published, "By Maria Edgeworth," as its success was so triumphant that some one--I heard his name at the time but do not now remember it, and it is better forgotten--not only a.s.serted that he was the author, but actually took the trouble to copy out several pages with corrections and erasures, as if it was his original MS.!

The _Essay on Irish Bulls_ was published in 1802, "By R.L. Edgeworth and Maria Edgeworth, author of _Castle Rackrent._" A gentleman, much interested in improving the breed of Irish cattle, sent, on seeing the advertis.e.m.e.nt, for this work on Irish Bulls; he was rather confounded by the appearance of the cla.s.sical bull at the top of the first page, which I had designed from a gem, and when he began to read the book he threw it away in disgust: he had purchased it as Secretary to the Irish Agricultural Society.

Of the partnership in this book, Miss Edgeworth writes long afterwards:

The first design of the essay was my father's; under the semblance of attack, he wished to show the English public the eloquence, wit, and talents of the lower cla.s.ses of people in Ireland. Working zealously upon the ideas which he suggested, sometimes what was spoken by him was afterwards written by me; or when I wrote my first thoughts, they were corrected and improved by him; so that no book was ever written more completely in partnership. On this, as on most subjects, whether light or serious, when we wrote together, it would now be difficult, almost impossible, to recollect which thoughts were originally his and which were mine.

The notes on the Dublin s...o...b..acks' metaphorical language are chiefly his. I have heard him tell that story with all the natural, indescribable Irish tones and gestures of which written language can give but a faint idea. He excelled in imitating the Irish, because he never overstepped the modesty or the a.s.surance of nature. He marked exquisitely the happy confidence, the shrewd wit of the people, without condescending to produce effect by caricature. He knew not only their comic talents, but their powers of pathos; and often when he had just heard from me some pathetic complaint, he has repeated it to me while the impression was fresh. In his chapter on Wit and Eloquence in _Irish Bulls_, there is a speech of a poor free-holder to a candidate who asked for his vote: this speech was made to my father when he was canva.s.sing the county of Longford. It was repeated to me a few hours afterwards, and I wrote it down instantly without, I believe, the variation of a word.

_To_ MISS RUXTON.

EDGEWORTHSTOWN, _Aug. 1, 1802._

You are a goose or a gosling, whichever you like best, for I perceive you are in great anxiety lest my poor little imagination should not have been completely set to rights. Now set your heart at ease, for I, putting my left hand upon my heart, because I could not conveniently put my right, which holds the pen, though I acknowledge that would be much more graceful, do hereby declare that I perfectly understood and understand the explanation contained in your last, and am fully satisfied, righted, and delighted therewith.