The Life and Letters of Maria Edgeworth, Volume 1 — A Reader’s Guide

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Edgeworth, Maria, 1768-1849, Hare, Augustus J. C. (Augustus John Cuthbert), 1834-1903 [Editor] Project Gutenberg 2005 Not confirmed
Edgeworth, Maria, 1768-1849; Novelists, Irish -- 19th century -- Biography Readers of public-domain and historical texts
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Words 98,760
Reading time 430 min
Text sections 8

For The Life and Letters of Maria Edgeworth, Volume 1 — A Reader’s Guide, the stored edition analysis reports 98,760 words, 7 hr 10 min estimated reading time, and 8 detected text sections.

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This volume collects Maria Edgeworth's letters and biographical notes, edited by Augustus J.C. Hare. The excerpts reveal her sharp critical voice, self-deprecating humor, and vivid social observations, from literary judgments to witty anecdotes about London society.
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Elizabeth was better suited to me than any other woman, and thought I was equally suited to her. But, of all Honora's sisters, I had seen the least of Elizabeth.

Mrs. Elizabeth Edgeworth proved herself worthy of her sister's confidence. She was soon adored by her stepchildren, and her conduct to them was in all respects maternal. Maria at this time was removed from Bath to the school of Mrs. Davis, in Upper Wimpole Street, London, where she had excellent masters. Here her talent as an improvisatrice was first manifested in the tales she used to tell to her companions in their bedroom at night. She also, by his desire, frequently wrote stories and sent them for her father's criticism and approval. During holidays which she often spent with his old friend Mr. Day at Anningsly, she benefited by an admirable library and by Mr. Day's advice as to her reading.

In 1782 Mr. and Mrs. Edgeworth returned to Ireland, taking the whole family with them. Maria was now fifteen, and was old enough to be interested in all the peculiarities of the Irish as contrasted with the English character, soon showing such natural aptitude for dealing with those around her, that her father entrusted her with all his accounts, and practically employed her as his agent for many years. Thus she obtained an insight into the lives and characters of her humbler neighbours, which was of inestimable value to her, when afterwards writing her sketches of Irish life. She already began to plan many stories, most of which were never finished. But Mr. Edgeworth discouraged this. In the last year of her life Miss Edgeworth wrote: "I remember a number of literary projects, if I may so call them, or _aperçus_ of things which I might have written if I had time or capacity so to do. The word _aperçu_ my father used to object to. 'Let us have none of your _aperçus_, Maria: either follow a thing out clearly to a conclusion, or do not begin it: begin nothing without finishing it.'"

Building and planting, alterations and improvements of every kind at Edgeworthstown were at once begun by Mr. Edgeworth, but always within his income. He also made two rules: he employed no middlemen, and he always left a year's rent in his tenants' hands. "Go before Mr. Edgeworth, and you will surely get justice," became a saying in the neighbourhood.

Some men live with their families without letting them know their affairs (wrote Miss Edgeworth), and, however great may be their affection and esteem for their wives and children, think that they have nothing to do with business. This was not my father's way of thinking. On the contrary, not only his wife, but his children, knew all his affairs. Whatever business he had to do was done in the midst of his family, usually in the common sitting-room; so that we were intimately acquainted, not only with his general principles of conduct, but with the minute details of their everyday application. I further enjoyed some peculiar advantages: he kindly wished to give me habits of business; and for this purpose allowed me, during many years, to assist him in copying his letters of business, and in receiving his rents.

With the younger children Mr. Edgeworth's educational system was of the most cheerful kind; they were connected with all that was going on, made sharers in all the occupations of their elders, and not so much taught as shown how best to teach themselves. "I do not think one tear per month is shed in this house, nor the voice of reproof heard, nor the hand of restraint felt," wrote Mr. Edgeworth to Dr. Darwin. Both in precept and practice he was the first to recommend what is described by Bacon as the experimental mode of education. "Surely," says Miss Edgeworth, "it would be doing good service to bring into a popular form all that metaphysicians have discovered which can be applied to practice in education. This was early and long my father's object. The art of teaching to invent--I dare not say, but of awakening and assisting the inventive power by daily exercise and excitement, and by the application of philosophic principles to trivial occurrences--he believed might be pursued with infinite advantage to the rising generation."

Maria Edgeworth’s letters, as assembled in this first volume, offer a direct record of her literary judgments and social observations. The editor, Augustus J.C. Hare, frames the collection by noting Edgeworth’s own reluctance to write a biographical preface—she considered her domestic life unremarkable. Yet the correspondence reveals a sharp critical intelligence: Edgeworth dismisses Sir John Hawkins’s biography of Johnson as “a heap of rubbish,” and she confesses to weeping over The Simple Story while finding her own novel Belinda “cold tameness.” These remarks, scattered among accounts of visits and witticisms, show a writer who judged both others and herself with unsparing clarity.

A Critical Voice in Private Letters

Edgeworth’s letters are punctuated by frank literary assessments. She writes of reading The Simple Story for the fourth time, intending to critique it, but instead being “carried away” and weeping over the characters. In the same breath, she turns to correcting Belinda and finds it so insipid that she quotes a hackney coachman: “Mend you! better make a new one.” This juxtaposition—emotional engagement with another’s work versus impatience with her own—recurs throughout the excerpts. She also dismisses Sir John Hawkins’s biography of Johnson as “rubbish” that would have smothered a lesser genius. These judgments are not delivered as formal criticism but as asides, revealing a mind constantly evaluating narrative power and authenticity.

Social Scenes and Witty Exchanges

The letters capture Edgeworth’s social world through anecdote and dialogue. She reports a dinner where someone asks if Lydia White is a bluestocking; Lord Norbury replies “Morbleu.” Edgeworth recounts a day spent learning a method of drawing the human figure, which she calls “ineffectual conjuring tricks,” and notes her father’s impatience. She describes a bevy of wits—Chenevix, Hamilton, Foster, Fitzgerald—and later receives a letter from Mrs. Apreece in Edinburgh, “charmed with all the wits there.” These vignettes are not mere name-dropping; they show Edgeworth’s ear for dialogue and her ability to sketch a scene with dry humor. The reader sees her as both participant and observer, a novelist collecting material.

Pace and Self-Awareness in the Correspondence

The rhythm of the letters shifts between brisk social report and reflective literary commentary. A letter from November 30 moves from a list of visitors to a quip about bluestockings, then to a detailed account of a failed drawing lesson. Another letter begins with a visit to Sonna and Pakenham Hall, then pivots to a passionate reading of The Simple Story. Edgeworth is aware of her own reactions: she intended to read as a critic but was “totally incapable.” This self-awareness extends to her own work, as she contrasts the emotional power of The Simple Story with the “cold tameness” of Belinda. The letters thus offer a double portrait: the public figure moving through society and the private writer measuring herself against her peers.

Readers approaching this volume should attend to the interplay between Edgeworth’s social anecdotes and her literary judgments. The letters are not a continuous narrative but a mosaic of moments, each revealing a different facet of her voice. Hare’s editorial thread is minimal, allowing Edgeworth’s own words to dominate. The result is a portrait built from fragments—witty, critical, and unexpectedly vulnerable.

For years I watched Maria Edgeworth’s letters teach us that sharp wit and tender care often share the same quill. Her irritation at wartime folly felt familiar. Then I stumbled upon War Taxation: Some Comments and Letters — Edition Insights, and there it was again—that same human impatience, that quiet pleading for sense. Some voices just echo each other across centuries, and I am glad I was here to notice.

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