Chapter III: Mainly Maria Edgeworth

There is a portrait of Mrs. Bushe that is now in the possession of one of her many great-grandchildren, Sir Egerton Coghill. It is a small picture, in pastel, very delightful in technique, and the subject is worthy of the technique. Nancy Crampton was her name, and the picture was probably done at the time of her marriage, in 1793, and is a record of the excellent judgment of the future Lord Chief Justice of Ireland.

It would be hard to find a more charming face. From below a cloud of brown curls, deep and steady blue eyes look straight into yours from under level brows. The extreme intellectuality of the expression does not master its sweetness. In looking at the picture the lines come back--

“One in whose gentle bosom I
Can pour my inmost heart of woes.”

No wonder that in the troublous days of the Union, when bribes and threats assailed the young barrister who was already a power in the land, no wonder indeed that he often, as he says in one of his letters, “heav’d a sigh, and thought of Nancy,” and knew “with delight” that on her heart he could repose his own when weary.

Here, I think, may fitly be given some lines that the Chief wrote, when he was an old man, to accompany the gift to his wife of a white fur tippet.

TO A TIPPET.

Soon as thy milk-white folds are prest
Like Wreaths of Snow about her breast,
Oh guard that precious heart from harm
Like thee ’t is pure, like thee ’t is warm.

Love and wit are immortal, we know, but the spirit is rare that can inspire them after nearly fifty years of married life; yet rarer, perhaps, the young heart that can persuade them still to dwell with it and to overlook the silver head.

I grieve that I have been unable to find any of Mrs. Bushe’s earlier letters. She was a brilliant creature in all ways, and had a rare and enchanting gift as an artist, which, even in those days, when young ladies of quality were immured inexorably within the padded cell of the amateur, could scarce have failed to make its mark, had she not, as the Chief, with marital complacency, observed, devoted herself to “making originals instead of copies.”

In her time there were few women who gave even a moment’s thought to the possibilities of individual life as an artist, however aware they might be--must have been--of the gifts they possessed. I daresay that my great-grandmother was well satisfied enough with what life had brought her--“honour, love, obedience, troops of friends.” In one of her letters, written when she was a very old woman, she writes gaily of the hateful limitations of old age, and says:

“When people _will_ live beyond their time such things must be, and I have a right to be thankful that old Time has put on his Slippers, and does not ride roughshod over me.”

(Which shows, I think, that marriage had subdued the artist in her, and had, in compensation, evoked the philosopher.)

It is clear, from the last letter in the preceding chapter, that Miss Edgeworth and Mrs. Bushe had not met before 1810. How soon afterwards they met, and the friendship, that lasted for the rest of their lives, began, I cannot ascertain. In one of Miss Edgeworth’s letters (quoted in one of the many volumes that have been written about her) she says:

“Having named Mrs. Bushe, I must mention that whenever I meet her she is my delight and admiration, from her wit, humour, and variety of conversation.”

Among the contents of the letter-box that Martin gave me are several letters from Miss Edgeworth, and they testify to the fact that she lost no time in falling in love with her “very dear Mrs. Bushe.”

I recognise, gratefully, how highly I am privileged in being permitted to include in my book these letters from the brilliant pioneer of Irish novelists. To the readers and lovers of, for example, “Castle Rackrent,” they may seem a trifle disappointing in their submission to the conventions of their period, a period that decreed a mincing and fettered mode for its lady letter-writers, and rigorously exacted from its females the suitable simper.

The writing is pale, prim, and pointed, undeniably suggestive of prunes, and prisms, and papa (that inveterate papa of Maria’s); yet, in spite of the fetters of convention, the light step is felt, and although the manner may mince, it cannot conceal the humour, the spirit, and the charm of disposition.

Miss Edgeworth was born in the same year as Chief Justice Bushe, and died six years later than he, in 1849. Her friendship with Mrs. Bushe remained unbroken to the last, and their mutual admiration continued unshaken. In such of Miss Edgeworth’s letters to my great-grandmother as I have seen, she speaks but little of literary work. One of the later letters, however (dated 1827), accompanied a present of one of her books; the date would make it appear that this was one of the sequels to “Early Lessons”--(in which the unfortunate Rosamond is victimised by the dastardly fraud of the Purple Jar, and Harry gets no breakfast until he has made his bed, although the fact that his sole ablutions consist in washing his hands is in no way imputed to him as sin. But this, also, is of the period).

MISS MARIA EDGEWORTH TO MRS. BUSHE.

“EDGEWORTH’S TOWN “_July 12. 1827_.

“How can I venture to send such an insignificant little child’s
book to Mrs. Bushe?--Because I know she loves me and will think the
smallest offering from me a mark of kindness--of confidence in her
indulgence and partiality.

“My sister Harriet has given me great pleasure by writing me word
how kindly you _speak_ of me, dear Mrs. Bushe, and as I know your
sincerity, to speak and to think kindly with you are one and the
same. Believe me I have the honour to be like you in this. In every
thing that has affected you since we parted (that has come to my
knowledge) I have keenly sympathised--Oh that we could meet again.
I am sure our minds would open and join immediately. After all
there is no greater mistake in life than counting happiness by
pounds shillings and pence--You and I have never done this I
believe--We ought to meet again. Cannot you contrive it?

“I am glad at least that my sister Harriet has the pleasure which I
have not. Your penetration will soon discover all my father’s heart
and all his talents in her. Remember me most respectfully and most
affectionately to the Chief Justice and believe me

“Most truly your “Affectionate friend “MARIA EDGEWORTH.

“Harriet did not know this little vol was published or that I intended publishing it when you spoke to her.

“I had amused myself with the assistance of a confederate sister at home in getting them printed without her knowing it for the Wise pleasure of surprising her as she had always said I could not print anything without her knowledge--These little wee wee plays were written ages ago in my age of happiness for birthday diversions and Harriet added the cross Prissy 16 years ago!”

MISS MARIA EDGEWORTH TO MRS. BUSHE Kilmurrey, Thomastown, Co. Kilkenny.

“EDGEWORTH’S TOWN “_June 18th 1815_.

“MY VERY DEAR MRS. BUSHE,

“This letter is dictated by my father as you might guess by the
bold appellation with which I have begun. He projects a migration
southward this ensuing month--towards Cork where Mrs. Edgeworth’s
brother is fatly and fitly provided for in the Church. In his route
my father glances sideways to the real pleasure of having an
opportunity of seeing you free from all the shackles of high
station and high fashion, in the retirement which your wise husband
prefers to both. Tell us when he will be at home and when at home
whether it will be _convenient_ (we are vain to think it would be
_agreeable_ you perceive) to receive us for a day and a night.
There will be three of us, papa, mama and self. Though we were
_Foxites_ we cannot sleep ‘_three in a bed_.’ As the circuit will
probably engage the Sol. gen[4] for some time to come our prospect
looks to the period when he may return.

“So far _from_ my father--now _of_ him. This day he is much better
and we are all in high spirits. And he will not let me add one word
more.

“Dear Mrs. Bushe, “Affectionately yours “MARIA EDGEWORTH.”

* * * * *

“FROM MISS MARIA EDGEWORTH TO MRS. BUSHE, Kilmurrey, Thomastown, Co. Kilkenny

“EDGEWORTH’S TOWN _Augt. 26th 1832_.

MY DEAR MRS. BUSHE

“Did you ever form any idea of the extent of my assurance--

“If you did I have a notion I shall now exceed whatever might have
been your estimate.

“I am about to ask you--to ask you, plunging without preface or
apology--to go to work for me, and to give _me_, only because I
have the assurance to ask for it, what every body would wish to
have from you and nobody who had any pretence to modesty (out of
your own family and privileged circle of dears) would venture to
think of asking for.

“A bag if you please of your own braidwork my dear Mrs.
Bushe--Louisa Beaufort who has just come to visit us tells me that
your braid work is so beautiful that I do covet this souvenir from
you. The least _Forget me not_--or _Heartsease_ will fulfil all my
wishes--if indeed you are so very kind as to listen to me. I have
your Madonna over the chimney piece in our library and often do I
look at her with affection and gratitude. I wish dear Mrs. Bushe we
could ever meet again, but this world goes so badly that I fear our
throats will be cut by order of O’Connell & Co very soon, or we
shall be beggars walking the world, and walking the world
_different_ ways. It is good to laugh as long as we can, however
and whenever we can--between crying times--of which there are so
many too many now a days.

“I hear sad tidings of my much loved, more loved even than admired,
friend Sir Walter Scott. His body lives and is likely to live some
time--his mind oh such a mind! is gone forever. His temper too
which was most charming and most amiable is changed by disease.
Mrs. Lockhart that daughter who so admires him is more to be pitied
than words can express. His mind was a little revived by the first
return to Abbotsford--but sunk again--Of all afflictions surely
this is the worst that friends can have to endure--death a
comparative blessing.

“I find the love of garden grow upon me as I grow older more and
more. Shrubs and flowers and such small gay things, that bloom and
please and fade and wither and are gone and we care not for them,
are refreshing interests, in life, and if we cannot say never
fading pleasures, we may say unreproved pleasures and never
grieving losses.

“I remember your history of the bed of tulips or anemones which the
Chief Justice fancied he should fancy and which you reared for him
and he walked over without knowing.

“Does your taste for flowers continue. We have some fine
carnations--if you could fancy them. Some way or other they should
get to you. If not by a flying carpet by as good a mode of
conveyance or better--the frank of Sir W. Gapes or Right Hon. C.
G. S. Stanley.

“To either of which direct for me anything of whatever size or
weight (barring the size of the house or so) and it will be
conveyed to me swift and sure as if the African Magician himself
carried the same.

“I more much more wish to hear from you my dear Mrs. Bushe, and to
know from your own self how you are going on than to have all the
braided bags however pretty that could be given to me. That is the
truth of the matter. So pray write to me and tell me all that
concerns you--for

“I am very sincerely and affectionately “Your little old friend “MARIA EDGEWORTH.

“Will you present my affectionate respects to the Chief Justice. I
wish his country were more worthy of him--or rather I wish his
country were allowed to be and to show itself more worthy of such a
Chief Justice and such a private character as his.

“I am convinced that if the Scotch maxim of Let well alone were
pursued in Ireland we should do well enough. But to the rage of
obtaining popularity in a single individual must the peace of a
country be sacrificed.[5]

“What can the heart of such a man be made of? And however great his
talents how infinitely little and nauseously mean must his Mind be!

“He is too clever and clear sighted not to know too well what he is
about and what his own motions are. It is my belief however that he
could not now be quiet if he would he has such a Mob-omania upon
him.

“We are quiet enough here--as yet.”

“THE LORD CHIEF JUSTICE OF IRELAND “17 Upper Mount Street, Dublin.

FROM MISS MARIA EDGEWORTH.

A proverb goes--(I love it well)
Of “Give an inch and take an ell”
’Tis lady’s law--and, to be brief
Now must be mine, my dear Lord Chief

“The case is this--

“May I beg your Lordship not to shake your head irrevocably before
you have heard me out--

“SUPPOSE.... I only modestly say _suppose_ ... which leaves the
matter just as it was, in case your Lordship is determined to
_oppose_--<small>SUPPOSE</small> now, in short, you could contrive to come down to
us a day--a day or <small>TWO</small>--(pray dont start off!) or if you _could_
possibly bear _3_--days before the assizes? You could get--say
here--without hurry to dinner at 7--or--name your hour--and you
should have coffee comfortably without being obliged to enter an
appearance in the drawing room, and should retire to rest at
whatever hour you like--and I do humbly concieve that your bed and
all concerns, might be as comfortably arranged here as at Mullingar
Hotel--(though I wd not disparage sd Hotel)--But double bedded or
single room and room for friend and servant adjoining--and a whole
apartment with backstairs of its own shut out from the rest of the
house is at your Lordship’s disposal--And as to invalid habits
unless you have the habit of walking in your sleep all over the
house I don’t see how they could incommode or be incommoded.

“If you mean that you like to lie in bed in the morning late-- Lie
as late as ever you please.

“No questions asked. No breakfast waiting for you below, or thought
of your appearance till you please to shine upon us. Breakfast
waiting your bell’s touch, in your bed, or out of it at any hour
you please--And no worry of Company at dinner (unless you bespeak
the world and his wife--But if you did we should not know where to
find them for you).

“We have only our own every-day family party and should only wish
and hope to add to it, to meet you, a sister, who in happy days
knew and admired you, even from her childhood (Mrs. Butler née
Harriet Edgeworth) and her husband, whom you knew in happy days
too, at the late Bishop of Meath’s. Thank you my dear Lord for
promising to look for the Bishop’s verses.

Now pray let me thank you in my heart for your answer to this
letter.

“Mrs Bushe if she likes me as well as I most humbly believe she
does, will put in a good word for us--and her good words can never
be said in vain--and must be followed by good deeds.

“I am my dear Lord with more respect than appears here And all the sincerely affectionate regard that has been felt for you (we need not say how many years)--

“Your--to be obliged--humble servant “MARIA EDGEWORTH

“EDGEWORTH TOWN

“_Feb. 1st 1837_”