The Life and Letters of Maria Edgeworth Volume I Part 23

Lord Lansdowne, when I asked him to describe Rocca [Footnote: Second husband of Madame de Stael.] to me, said he heard him give an answer to Lord Byron which marked the indignant frankness of his mind. Lord Byron at Coppet had been going on abusing the stupidity of the good people of Geneva: Rocca at last turned short upon him--"Eh! milord, pourquoi donc venez-vous vous _fourrer_ parmi ces honnetes gens?"

Madame de Stael--I jumble anecdotes together as I recollect them--Madame de Stael had a great wish to see Mr. Bowles, the poet, or as Lord Byron calls him, the sonneteer; she admired his sonnets, and his Spirit of Maritime Discovery, and ranked him high as an English genius. In riding to Bowood he fell, and sprained his shoulder, but still came on. Lord Lansdowne alluded to this in presenting him to Madame de Stael before dinner in the midst of the listening circle. She began to compliment him and herself upon the exertion he had made to come and see her: "O ma'am, say no more, for I would have done a great deal more to see so great a _curiosity!_"

Lord Lansdowne says it is impossible to describe the _shock_ in Madame de Stael's face--the breathless astonishment and the total change produced in her opinion of the man. She afterwards said to Lord Lansdowne, who had told her he was a simple country clergyman, "Je vois bien que ce n'est qu'un simple cure qui n'a pas le sens commun, quoique grand poete."

Lady Lansdowne, just as I was writing this, came to my room and paid me half an hour's visit. She brought back my father's MS., which I had lent to her to read: she was exceedingly interested in it: she says, "It is not only entertaining but interesting, as showing how such a character was formed."

_To_ MISS RUXTON.

BOWOOD, _Sept. 19, 1818._

You know our history up to Sat.u.r.day last, when Lord and Lady Grenville left Bowood: there remained Mr. Thomas Grenville, Le vieux Celibataire, two Horts, Sir William and his brother, Mr. Gally Knight, and Lord and Lady Bathurst, with their two daughters. Mr. Grenville left us yesterday, and the rest go to-day. Mr. Grenville was very agreeable: dry, quiet humour: grave face, dark, thin, and gentlemanlike: a lie-by manner, entertained, or entertaining by turns. It is curious that we have seen within the course of a week one of the heads of the ministerial, and one of the ex-ministerial party. In point of ability, Lord Grenville is, I think, far superior to any one I have seen here.

Lord Lansdowne, with whom I had a delightful _tete-a-tete_ walk yesterday, told me that Lord Grenville can be fully known only when people come to do political business with him: there he excels. You know his preface to Lord Chatham's _Letters._ His manner of speaking in the House is not pleasing, Lord Lansdowne says: from being very near-sighted he has a look of austerity and haughtiness, and as he cannot see all he wants to see, he throws himself back with his chin up, determined to look at none. Lord Lansdowne gave me an instance--I may say a warning--of the folly of judging hastily of character at first sight from small circ.u.mstances. In one of Cowper's letters there is an absurd character of Lord Grenville, in which he is represented as a _pet.i.t-maitre._ This arose from Lord Grenville taking up his near-sighted gla.s.s several times during his visit. There cannot, in nature or art, be a man further from a _pet.i.t-maitre._

Lady Bathurst is remarkably obliging to me: we have many subjects in common--her brother, the Duke of Richmond, and all Ireland; her aunt, Lady Louisa Connolly, and Miss Emily Napier, and all the Pakenhams, and the d.u.c.h.ess of Wellington. The Duke lately said to Mrs. Pole, "After all, home is what we must look to at last."

Lady Georgiana is a very pretty, and I need scarcely say, fas.h.i.+onable-looking young lady, easy, agreeable, and quite unaffected.

This visit to Bowood has surpa.s.sed my expectation in every respect. I much enjoy the sight of Lady Lansdowne's happiness with her husband and her children: beauty, fortune, cultivated society, in short, everything that the most reasonable or unreasonable could wish. She is so amiable and so desirous to make others happy, that it is impossible not to love her; and the most envious of mortals, I think, would have the heart opened to sympathy with her. Then Lord and Lady Lansdowne are so fond of each other, and show it, and _don't show it_, in the most agreeable manner. His conversation is very various and natural, full of information, given for the sake of those to whom he speaks, never for display. What he says always lets us into his feelings and character, and therefore is interesting.

_To_ MRS. EDGEWORTH

THE GROVE, EFFING, _Oct. 4, 1818._

I mentioned one day at dinner at Bowood that children have very early a desire to produce an effect, a sensation in company. "Yes," said Lord Lansdowne, "I remember distinctly having that feeling, and acting upon it once in a large and august company, when I was a young boy, at the time of the French Revolution, when the Duke and d.u.c.h.ess de Polignac came to Bowood, and my father was anxious to receive these ill.u.s.trious guests with all due honour. One Sunday evening, when they were all sitting in state in the drawing-room, my father introduced me, and I was asked to give the company a sermon. The text I chose was, quite undesignedly, 'Put not your trust in princes.' The moment I had p.r.o.nounced the words, I saw my father's countenance change, and I saw changes in the countenances of the Duke and d.u.c.h.ess, and of every face in the circle. I saw I was the cause of this; and though I knew my father wanted to stop me, I would go on, to see what would be the effect. I repeated my text, and preached upon it, and as I went on, made out what it was that affected the congregation."

Afterwards Lord Shelburne desired the boy to go round the circle and wish the company good-night; but when he came to the d.u.c.h.esse de Polignac, he could not resolve to kiss her; he so detested the patch of rouge on her cheek, he started back. Lord Shelburne whispered a bribe in his ear--no, he would not; and they were obliged to laugh it off. But his father was very much vexed.

HAMPSTEAD, _Oct. 13._

We had a delightful drive here yesterday from Epping. Joanna Baillie and her sister, most kind, cordial, and warm-hearted, came running down their little flagged walk to welcome us. Mrs. Hunter, widow of John Hunter, dined here yesterday; she wrote "The son of Alnomac shall never complain," and she entertained me exceedingly; and both Joanna and her sister have most agreeable and new conversation--not old, trumpery literature over again, and reviews, but new circ.u.mstance worth telling, apropos to every subject that is touched upon: frank observations on character, without either ill-nature or the fear of committing themselves: no blue-stocking t.i.ttle-tattle, or habits of wors.h.i.+pping, or being wors.h.i.+pped: domestic, affectionate, good to live with, and, without fussing continually, doing what is most obliging, and whatever makes us feel most at home. Breakfast is very pleasant in this house, and the two good sisters look so neat and cheerful.

_Oct 15._

We went to see Mrs. Barbauld at Stoke Newington. She was gratified by our visit, and very kind and agreeable.

BOWOOD, _Nov._ 3, 1818.

We have just returned to dear Bowood. We went to Wimbledon, where Lady Spencer was very attentive and courteous: she is, I may say, the cleverest person I have seen since I came to England. At parting she "G.o.d blessed" me. We met there Lady Jones, widow of Sir William--thin, dried, tall old lady, nut-cracker chin, penetrating, benevolent, often--smiling, black eyes; and her nephew, young Mr. Hare; [Footnote: Augustus William Hare, one of the authors of _Guesses on Truth._] and, the last day, Mr. Brunel. [Footnote: Afterwards Sir Mark Isambard Brunel, engineer of the Thames Tunnel, Woolwich a.r.s.enal, etc., 1769-1849.]

This moment Mrs. Dugald Stewart, who was out walking, has come in--the same dear woman! I have seen Mr. Stewart--very, very weak--he cannot walk without an arm to lean on.

BOWOOD, _Nov. 4, 1818._

The newspapers have told you the dreadful catastrophe--the death, and the manner of the death, of that great and good man, Sir Samuel Romilly.

My dearest mother, there seems no end of horrible calamities. There is no telling how it has been felt in this house. I did not know till now that Mr. Dugald Stewart had been so very intimate with Sir Samuel, and so very much attached to him--forty years his friend: he has been dreadfully shocked. He was just getting better, enjoyed seeing us, conversed quite happily with me the first evening, and I felt rea.s.sured about him; but what may be the consequence of this stroke none can tell.

I rejoice that we came to meet him here: they say that I am of use conversing with him. Lord Lansdowne looks wretchedly, and can hardly speak on the subject without tears, notwithstanding all his efforts.

_To_ MISS WALLER. [Footnote: Miss Waller was aunt of Captain Beaufort and the fourth Mrs. Edgeworth.]

BYRKELY LODGE, _Nov. 24, 1818._

In the gloom which the terrible and most unexpected loss of Sir Samuel Romilly cast over the whole society at Bowood during the last few days we spent there, I recollect some minutes of pleasure. When I was consulting Mrs. Dugald Stewart about my father's MS., I mentioned Captain Beaufort's opinion on some point; the moment his name had pa.s.sed my lips, Mr. Stewart's grave countenance lighted up, and he exclaimed, "Captain Beaufort! I have the very highest opinion of Captain Beaufort ever since I saw a letter of his, which I consider to be one of the best letters I ever read. It was to the father of a young gentleman who died at Malta, to whom Captain Beaufort had been the best of friends. The young man had excellent qualities, but some frailties. Captain Beaufort's letter to the father threw a veil over the son's frailties, and without departing from the truth, placed all his good qualities in the most amiable light. The old man told me," continued Mr. Stewart, "that this letter was the only earthly consolation he ever felt for the loss of his son; he spoke of it with tears streaming from his eyes, and pointed in particular to the pa.s.sage that recorded the warm affection with which his son used to speak of him."

It is delightful to find the effect of a friend's goodness thus coming round to us at a great distance of time, and to see that it has raised him in the esteem of those we most admire.

Mr. Stewart has not yet recovered his health; he is more alarmed, I think, than he need to be by the difficulty he finds in recollecting names and circ.u.mstances that pa.s.sed immediately before and after his fever. This hesitation of memory, I believe, everybody has felt more or less after any painful event. In every other respect Mr. Stewart's mind appears to me to be exactly what it ever was, and his kindness of heart even greater than we have for so many years known it to be.

We are now happy in the quiet of Byrkely Lodge. We have not had any visitors since we came, and have paid only one visit to the Miss Jacksons. Miss f.a.n.n.y is, you know, the author of _Rhoda_; Miss Maria, the author of a little book of advice about _A Gay Garden._ I like the Gay Garden lady best at first sight, but I will suspend my judgment prudently till I see more.

I have just heard a true story worthy of a postscript even in the greatest haste. Two stout foxhunters in this neighbourhood who happened each to have as great a dread of a spider as ever fine lady had or pretended to have, chanced to be left together in a room where a spider appeared, crawling from under a table, at which they were sitting.

Neither durst approach within arm's length of it, or touch it even with a pair of tongs; at last one of the gentlemen proposed to the other, who was in thick boots, to get on the table and jump down upon his enemy, which was effected to their infinite satisfaction.

_To_ MRS. RUXTON.

BYRKELY LODGE, _Jan. 20, 1819._

I see my little dog on your lap, and feel your hand patting his head, and hear your voice telling him that it is for Maria's sake he is there.

I wish I was in his place, or at least on the sofa beside you at this moment, that I might in five minutes tell you more than my letters could tell you in five hours.

I have scarcely yet recovered from the joy of having f.a.n.n.y actually with me, and with me just in time to go to Trentham, on which I had set my foolish heart. We met her at Lichfield. We spent that evening there--the children of four different marriages all united and happy together.

Lovell took Francis [Footnote: Son of the fourth Mrs. Edgeworth, who was going to the Charter-house, and who had accompanied his sister f.a.n.n.y, with Lovell, from Edgeworthstown.] on with him to Byrkely Lodge, and we went to Trentham.

When Honora and I had f.a.n.n.y in the chaise to ourselves, ye G.o.ds! how we did talk! We arrived at Trentham by moonlight, and could only just see outlines of wood and hills: silver light upon the broad water, and cheerful lights in the front of a large house, with wide-open hall door.

Nothing could be more polite and cordial than the reception given to us by Lady Stafford, and by her good-natured, n.o.blemanlike lord. During our whole visit, what particularly pleased me was the manner in which they treated my sisters: not as appendages to an auth.o.r.ess, not as young ladies merely _permitted_, or to fill up as _personnages muets_ in society; on the contrary, Lady Stafford conversed with them a great deal, and repeatedly took opportunities of expressing to me how much she liked and valued them for their own sake. "That sister f.a.n.n.y of yours has a most intelligent countenance: she is much more than pretty; and what I so like is her manner of answering when she is asked any question--so unlike the Missy style. They have both been admirably well educated." Then she spoke in the handsomest manner of my father--"a master-mind: even in the short time I saw him that was apparent to me."

Lady Elizabeth Gower is a most engaging, sensible, unaffected, sweet, pretty creature. While Lady Stafford in the morning was in the library doing a drawing in water colours to show Honora her manner of finis.h.i.+ng quickly, f.a.n.n.y and I sat up in Lady Elizabeth's darling little room at the top of the house, where she has all her drawings, and writing, and books, and harp. She and her brother, Lord Francis, have always been friends and companions: and on her table were bits of paper on which he had scribbled droll heads, and verses of his, very good, on the "Expulsion of the Moors from Spain"--Lady Elizabeth knew every line of these, and had all that quick feeling, and _colouring_ apprehension, and _slurring_ dexterity, which those who read out what is written by a dear friend so well understand.

Large rooms filled with pictures, most of them modern--Reynolds, Moreland, Glover, Wilkie; but there are a few ancient: one of t.i.tian's, that struck me as beautiful--"Hermes teaching Cupid to read." The chief part of the collection is in the house in town. After a happy week at Trentham we returned here.

Mercy on my poor memory! I forgot to tell you that Lady Harrowby and her daughter were at Trentham, and an _exquisite_, or tiptop dandy, Mr.

Standish, and young Mr. Sneyd, of Keil--very fas.h.i.+onable. Lady Harrowby deserves Madame de Stael's good word, she calls her "_compagne spirituelle_"--a charming woman, and very quick in conversation.

The morning after Mr. Standish's arrival, Lady Stafford's maid told her that she and all the ladies' maids had been taken by his _gentleman_ to see his toilette--"which, I a.s.sure you, my lady, is the thing best worth seeing in this house, all of gilt plate, and I wish, my lady, you had such a dressing box." Though an exquisite, Mr. Standish is clever, entertaining, and agreeable. One day that he sat beside me at dinner, we had a delightful battledore and shuttlec.o.c.k conversation from grave to gay as quick as your heart could wish: from _L'Almanac des Gourmandes_ and _Le Respectable Porc_, to _Dorriforth and the Simple Story._

_Jan 22._

My letter has been detained two days for a frank. My aunts [Footnote: The Miss Sneyds were now living for a time at Byrkely Lodge.] are pretty well, and we feel that we add to their cheerfulness. Honora plays cribbage with Aunt Mary, and I read Florence Macarthy; I like the Irish characters, and the Commodore, and Lord Adelm--that is Lord Byron; but Ireland is traduced in some of her representations. "Marriage" is delightful.