A Cyclopaedia of Female Biography/Edgeworth, Maria
EDGEWORTH, MARIA,
Descended from a respectable Irish family, was born in Oxfordshire, January 1st., 1767. Her father was Richard Lovell Edgeworth, Esq., who, succeeding to an estate in Ireland, removed thither when Maria was about four years old. The family residence was at Edgeworthstown, Longford county; and here the subject of our sketch passed her long and most useful life, leaving an example of literary excellence and beneficent goodness, rarely surpassed in the annals of woman.
Mr. Edgeworth was a man of talent, who devoted his original and very active mind chiefly to subjects of practical utility. Mechanics and general literature were his pursuits, in so far as he could make these subservient to his theories of education and improvement; but his heart was centred in his home, and his eldest child, Maria, was his pride. She early manifested a decided taste for literary pursuits; and it appears to have been one of her father's greatest pleasures to direct her studies and develope her genius. This sympathy and assistance were of invaluable advantage to her at the beginning of her literary career; and sweetly did she repay these attentions when her own ripened talents outstripped his more methodical but less gifted intellect!
The father and daughter wrote, at first, together, and several works were their joint productions. The earliest book thus written in partnership was "Practical Education;" the second bore the title of "An Essay on Irish Bulls," which does not sound significantly of a young lady's agency, yet the book was very popular, because, with much wit, there was deep sympathy with the peculiar virtues of the Irish character, and pathetic touches in the stories illustrating Irish life, which warmed and won the heart of the reader. Miss Edgeworth was an earnest philanthropist, and herein lay the secret strength of her literary power. She felt for the wants and weaknesses of humanity; but as she saw human nature chiefly in Irish nature, her thoughts were directed towards the improvement of her adopted country, rather more, we suspect, from propinquity, than patriotism. Be this as it may, her best novels are those in which Irish character is pourtrayed; but her best books are those written for the young, because in these her genuine philanthropy is most freely unfolded.
From the beginning of the century, 1800, when Miss Edgeworth commenced her literary career, till 1825, almost every year was the herald of a new work from the pen of this distinguished lady. "Castle Rackrent," "Belinda," "Leonora," "Popular Tales," "Tales of Fashionable Life," "Patronage," "Vivian," "Harrington and Ormond," followed each other rapidly, and all were welcomed and approved by the public voice. In 1817, Mr. Edgeworth died, and Maria's profound sorrow for his loss suspended for some time her career of authorship. She did not resume her tales of fiction until she had given expression to her filial affection and gratitude to her father for his precious care in training her mind and encouraging her talents, and also to her deep and tender grief for his loss, by completing the "Memoir," he had commenced of his own life. This was published in 1820. Then she resumed her course of moral instruction for the young, and published that work, which so many children both in England and America, have been happier and better for reading, namely, "Rosamond, a Sequel to Early Lessons." In 1825, "Harriet and Lucy," a continuation of the "Early Lessons," in four volumes, was issued.
In 1823, Miss Edgeworth visited Sir Walter Scott at Abbotsford. "Never," says Mr. Lockhart, "did I see a brighter day at Abbotsford than that on which Miss Edgeworth first arrived there; never can I forget her look and accent when she was received by him at his archway, and exclaimed, 'Everything about you is exactly what one ought to have had wit enough to dream.' The weather was beautiful, and the edifice and its appurtenances were all but complete; and day after day. so long as she could remain, her host had some new plan of gaiety. Miss Edgeworth remained a fortnight at Abbotsford. Two years afterwards, she had an opportunity of repaying the hospitalities of her entertainer, by receiving him at Edgeworthstown, where Sir Walter met with as cordial a welcome, and where he found, 'neither mud hovels nor naked peasantry, but snug cottages and smiling faces all about.' Literary fame had spoiled neither of these eminent persons, nor unfitted them for the common business and enjoyment of life. 'We shall never,' said Scott, 'learn to feel and respect our calling and destiny, unless we have taught ourselves to consider everything as moonshine compared with the education of the heart.' Maria did not listen to this without some water in her eyes; her tears were always ready when any generous string was touched—(for, as Pope says, "the finest minds, like the finest metals, dissolve the easiest;") but she brushed them gaily aside, and said, 'You see how it is; Dean Swift said he had written his books in order that people might learn to treat him like a great lord. Sir Walter writes his in order that he may be able to treat his people as a great lord ought to do.'"
In 1834, Miss Edgeworth made her last appearance as a novelist, with the exquisite story of "Helen," in three volumes. It is her best work of fiction, combining with truth and nature more of the warmth of fancy and pathos of feeling than she displayed in her earlier writings. As though the last beams from the sun of her genius had, like the departing rays of a long unclouded day, become softer in their brightness and beauty, while stealing away from the world they had blessed.
Miss Edgeworth wrought out her materials of thought into many forms, and coloured these with the rainbow tinting of her fancy, and ornamented them with the polished beauty of benevolent feeling; but the precious gold of truth, which she first essayed, makes the sterling worth of all her books. And what a number she has written! The term of her life was long, but measured by what she accomplished seems to comprise the two centuries in which she lived. So quiet and easy was her death, it seemed but a sweet sleep, after only a half-hour's illness. She died, May 21st., 1849, in her eighty-third year, ripe in good works, and in the "charity which never faileth."