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SPB MAGENHIRVI, MAARIAHAPON SACH
THE LEADBEATER PAPERS.
Mizabeth Candler.
THE
LEADBEATER PAPERS:
A SELECTION FROM THE
MSS. AND CORRESPONDENCE
OF
(Shockleto)
A
720... MARY LEADBEATER.
A
VOL. II.
UNPUBLISHED LETTERS OF EDMUND BURKE:
AND THE CORRESPONDENCE OF
MRS. RICHARD TRENCH AND REV. GEORGE CRABBE.
Second Edition.
LONDON:
BELL AND DALDY, 186, FLEET STREET.
1862.
R. D. WEBB AND SON, PRINTERS. Dublin.
English
a para juu wa
//-70 - 36
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R. Hall
11-4-36
82951
CONTENTS OF VOL. II.
LETTER
PART I.
LETTERS FROM EDMUND BURKE TO RICHARD SHACKLETON.
I.-Dublin, April, 1744
II.-Dublin, May 10th, 1744
III.-May 29th, 1744
IV. Tuesday, June 26th, 1744
V.-June 29th, 1744
VI.-Dublin, July 5th, 1744
•
VII.—Dublin, June 11th, 1744, 12 o'clock
VIII.-June 14th, 1744
•
•
•
IX.-Dublin, June 21st, 1744
X.-Dublin, July 5th, 1744
XI.-July 10th, 1744
XII.-—Dublin, July 14th, 1744
XIII.-Arran-quay, October 15th, 1744
XIV.—Arran-quay, Saturday, November 24th, 1744
XV.-Arran-quay, February 25th, 1744
XVI.-Arran-quay, February, 1744-5
XVII.-Arran-quay, March 12th, 1744-5
XVIII.-Office, March 15th, 1744-5
•
XIX.-March 19th, 1744-5
XX.-Dublin, July 4th, 1745
XXI.-Balliduffe, August 16th, 1745
XXII.-Dublin, October 16th, 1745
XXIII.-November 2nd, 1745
XXIV.-Arran-quay, November 12th, 1745
Q*
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CONTENTS.
LETTER
XXV.--Dublin, December 7th, 1745
XXVI.-Dublin, December 28th, 1745
XXVII.-Dublin, January 16th, 1746
XXVIII.—Office, Thursday, 31st January, 1746
XXIX.-Dublin, February 15th, 1746.
XXX.-Cooke's Hill, February 16th, 1746
XXXI.—February 21st, 1746
XXXII.-March, 1746
XXXIII.-March 12th, 1746
XXXIV.—March, 1746
XXXV.—May, 1746
XXXVI.-Dublin, May, 1746
XXXVII.-Dublin, June 1st, 1746
XXXVIII.—July 25th, 1746 .
XXXIX.-August 19th, 1746
XL.-Dublin, Tenth-month [October] 5th, 1746
XLI.-Dublin, December 11th, 1746
XLII.-Dublin, December 27th, 1746; almost '47
XLIII.-Dublin, January 24th, 1747
XLIV. London, 20th February, 1750
XLV.-April 5th, 1751
XLVII.-Dublin, March 29th, 1764
XLVIII.—Ballitore, 19th October, 1766
XLIX. October 28th, 1766
•
•
L.-[Richard Shackleton to Edmund Burke.]
Ballitore, 16th of Third-month, 1769
LI.—Gregories', April 19th, 1770
LII. [Richard Shackleton to Edmund Burke.]
Ballitore, 28th of Fourth-month, 1770
LIII.-Gregories, May 6th, 1770
LIV.-Beaconsfield, January 3rd, 1773
LV.-Beaconsfield, August 11th, 1776
LVI.-Beaconsfield, September 11th, 1777
LVII.—[Richard Shackleton to Edmund Burke.]
Ballitore, 2nd of Fifth-month, 1782
•
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CONTENTS.
vii
LETTER
LVIII.—Charles-street, [London], March 3rd, 1783
LIX.-[No date.]
LX.-[Richard Shackleton to Edmund Burke.]
Ballitore Tenth-month 18th, 1785.
LXI.-[From the same to the same.] Ballitore,
Twelfth-month 5th, 1785
LXII.-College-green, [Dublin], October 10th, 1786
LXIII.-[No date]
LXIV.-Gerrard-street, [London], 9th May, 1788.
K
PART II.
CORRESPONDENCE OF MRS. TRENCH AND MRS. LEADBEATER.
I. From Mrs. St. George [afterwards Mrs.
Trench]; Ballitore Inn, June, 1802
II. From Mrs. Leadbeater; Ballitore, 7th of
Seventh-month, 1802 .
III. From Mrs. St. George; Paris, March 8th,
1803
IV. From Mrs. Leadbeater; Ballitore, 11th of
First-month, 1806
V. From Mrs. Trench; Orleans, March, 1806.
VI. From the same; Dublin, September, 1807
VII. From Mrs. Leadbeater; [no date]
VIII. From Mrs. Trench; [no date]
IX. From the same; [no date]
X.-From Mrs. Leadbeater; Ballitore, 25th of
Sixth-month 1808
•
•
•
XI. From Mrs. Trench; Bognor, August, 1808
XII. From Mrs. Leadbeater; Ballitore, 2nd of
Tenth-month, 1808
XIII. From Mrs. Trench; October, 1808
XIV. From the same; Dublin, 13th June, 1809
XV. From Mrs. Leadbeater; Ballitore, 15th of
Sixth-month, 1809.
•
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CONTENTS.
1
LETTER
XVI.-From Mrs. Trench; July, 1809 .
XVII. From Mrs. Leadbeater; 23rd of Seventh-
month, 1809
XVIII.-From Mrs. Trench; September, 1809.
XIX. From Mrs. Leadbeater; Ballitore, 25th of
Ninth-month, 1809
M
XX. From Mrs. Trench; 3rd October 1809
XXI. From the same; 1809
<
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XXII. From the same; January 2nd, 1810
XXIII. From the same; February 7th, 1810
XXIV. From the same; February 25th, 1810
XXV. From Mrs. Leadbeater; Ballitore, 28th of
Third-month, 1810
XXVI. From Mrs. Trench; April 4th, 1810
XXVII. From Mrs. Leadbeater; Ballitore, 10th of
Fourth-month, 1810
·
•
•
•
•
XXVIII.--From the same; Ballitore, 17th of Fifth-
month, 1810
XXIX.-From the same; Ballitore, 19th of Seventh-
month, 1810
•
·
•
XXX.-From the same; Ballitore, 20th of Seventh-
month, 1810
•
•
XXXI.—From Mrs. Trench; 30th of July, 1810
XXXII.-From Mrs. Leadbeater; Ballitore, 20th of
Eighth-month, 1810
XXXIII. From Mrs. Trench; Southampton, August,
1810.
XXXIV. From the same; Southampton, December
22nd, 1810
XXXV.-From Mrs. Leadbeater; Ballitore, 3rd of
Third-month, 1811
XXXVI.-From Mrs. Trench; [no date]
XXXVII.—From Mrs. Leadbeater; Ballitore, 10th of
Tenth-month, 1811
XXXVIII.—From Mrs. Trench; London, May 5th, 1811
•
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CONTENTS.
ix
LETTER
XXXIX.-From Mrs. Leadbeater; Ballitore, 5th of
Sixth-month, 1811 .
XL. From Mrs. Trench; B. L., June, 1811
XLI.-From the same; July 16th, 1811
XLII.—From the same; August 25th, 1811
XLIII.—From Mrs. Leadbeater; Ballitore, 31st of
Eighth-month, 1811
――
XLIII.*-From Mrs. Trench; 18th November, 1811.
XLIV.—From Mrs. Leadbeater; Ballitore, 6th of
First-month, 1812
XLV. From the same; Ballitore, 18th of Second-
month, 1812
•
XLVI.-From the same; Ballitore, 2nd of Third-
month, 1812
XLVII. From the same; Ballitore, 1st of Sixth-
month, 1812
XLVIII. From the same: Ballitore, 24th of Seventh-
month, 1812
―――
·
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XLIX. From Mrs. Trench; 26th July, 1812
L.-From the same; December, 1812
LI. From Mrs. Leadbeater; Ballitore, 11th of
First-month, 1813.
LII. From Mrs. Trench; January, 1813
LIII. From the same; February 11th, 1813.
LIV. From Mrs. Leadbeater; Ballitore, 18th of
Fifth-month, 1813
LV. From Mrs. Trench; May, 1813 .
LVI.-From Mrs. Leadbeater; Ballitore, 29th of
Ninth-month, 1813
LVII.-From Mrs. Trench; [no date]
LVIII. From Mrs. Leadbeater; Ballitore, 22nd of
Eighth-month, 1813
LIX. From the same; Ballitore, 22nd of Eleventh-
259
month, 1813
LX.-From the same; 9th of Second-month, 1814 260
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X
CONTENTS.
LETTER
LXI. From Mrs. Trench; [no date] .
LXII. From the same; London, June, 1814.
LXIII. From Mrs. Leadbeater; Ballitore, 1814
LXIV. From Mrs. Trench; June, 1815.
LXV. From Mrs. Leadbeater, 1816.
♦ LXVI.—From Mrs. Trench, 1816
LXVII. From the same; 4th November, 1816
LXVIII. From the same; November 22nd, [1816]
LXIX. From Mrs. Leadbeater; Ballitore, 16th of
Eleventh-month, 1816.
LXX. From Mrs. Trench; 3rd December, [1816]
LXXI. From the same; January 7th, 1817
LXXII.—From Mrs. Leadbeater; Ballitore, 14th of
First-month, 1817
LXXIII. From Mrs. Trench; March, 1817
LXXIV. From Mrs. Leadbeater; Ballitore, Fourth-
month, 1817
K
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LXXV.—From Mrs. Leadbeater; Ballitore, 27th of
Sixth-month, 1817
LXXVI. From Mrs. Trench, 15th July, 1817
LXXVII. From Mrs. Leadbeater; Ballitore, 17th of
Eighth-month, 1817
LXXVIII. From Mrs. Trench, November 17th, 1817
LXXIX. From Mrs. Leadbeater; Ballitore, 17th of
Twelfth-month, 1817
•
LXXXV. From Mrs. Leadbeater; Ballitore, 1821
LXXXVI. From Mrs. Trench; 1822
LXXXVII.—From Mrs. Leadbeater; Ballitore, 1822
·
•
LXXX.-From Mrs. Trench, 1818
LXXXI.—From Mrs. Leadbeater; Ballitore, 23rd of
Eighth-month, 1818
LXXXII.-From Mrs. Trench; September, 1818
LXXXIII.—From Mrs. Leadbeater; Ballitore, 1819
LXXXIV.—From Mrs. Trench; 1820
·
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CONTENTS.
xi
LETTER
LXXXVIII.-From Mrs. Leadbeater; Ballitore, 26th of
Third-month, 1822
LXXXIX.—From Mrs. Trench; 1823 ·
•
M
XC. From Mrs. Leadbeater; Ballitore, 1824
XCI.- From Mrs. Leadbeater; Ballitore, 1825
XCII. From Mrs. Trench; 1825
XCIII. From Mrs. Leadbeater; Ballitore, 25th of
Third-month, 1826
XCIV. From Mrs. Trench to Mrs. Ebenezer Shac-
kleton, August, 1826 .
XCV.-From Mrs.. Trench to Mr. Leadbeater; 24th
January, 1827
*
PART III.
•
•
IX.-From the Rev. George Crabbe; Trowbridge,
Wilts, 5th November, 1819
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CORRESPONDENCE OF REV. GEORGE CRABBE AND MRS. LEADBEATER.
I. From Mrs. Leadbeater; Ballitore, 7th of
Eleventh-month, 1816
II. From the Rev. George Crabbe; Trowbridge,
1st December, 1816
III. From Mrs. Leadbeater; Ballitore, 29th of
Twelfth-month, 1816
IV.-From the same; Ballitore, 15th of Ninth-
month, 1817
V.-From the Rev. George Crabbe; Trowbridge,
30th October, 1817
VI. From Mrs. Leadbeater; Ballitore, 1st of
Twelfth-month, 1817
VII. From the Rev. George Crabbe; Trowbridge,
17th of September, 1818
VIII. From Mrs. Leadbeater; Ballitore, 21st of
Ninth-month
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xii
CONTENTS.
LETTER
X.-From Mrs. Leadbeater; Ballitore, 15th of
Fourth-month, 1820
XI. From the same; Ballitore, 24th of Ninth-
month, 1820
XII. From the Rev. George Crabbe; Trowbridge,
Wilts, December, 1820.
XIII.-From Mrs. Leadbeater; Ballitore, 11th of
Fourth-month, 1821
XIV. From the Rev. George Crabbe; Trowbridge,
Wilts, 25th November, 1822.
XV. From Mrs. Leadbeater; Ballitore, 13th of
Twelfth-month, 1822.
XVI. From the Rev. George Crabbe; Trowbridge,
7th April, 1823
XVII. From Mrs. Leadbeater; Ballitore, 10th of
Sixth-month, 1823
XVIII.-From Mrs. Leadbeater; Richmond, near
Limerick, 20th of Third-month, 1824
XIX.—From the Rev. George Crabbe; Trowbridge,
26th March, 1824
XX. From Mrs. Leadbeater; Ballitore, 27th of
Fifth-month, 1824
XXI. From the same; Ballitore, 1st of Tenth-
month, 1824
XXII. From the Rev. George Crabbe; Trowbridge,
October, 1824
XXIII. From Mrs. Leadbeater; Ballitore, 19th of
Eleventh-month, 1824
XXIV. From the same; Ballitore, 3rd of Twelfth-
month, 1825
XXV. From the Rev. George Crabbe; Trowbridge,
3rd February, 1826
XXVI. From Mrs. Leadbeater; Ballitore, 4th of
Fourth-month, 1826
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:
PART I.
LETTERS FROM EDMUND BURKE
TO
RICHARD SHACKLETON.
2
LETTERS
FROM
EDMUND BURKE
TO
RICHARD SHACKLETON.
LETTER I.
Dublin, April, 1744.
Dear Dicky,
Since I am deprived of your company that
was so agreeable to me, and the sweet hours that I
spent in Ballitore in your conversation, and condemned
to noise, smoke, and Dublin town, all I can do is to
alleviate the pains of absence by an epistolary corre-
spondence; but here I am stopped by the expiration of
privilege, which, though a bar to us, yet it may be
remedied in some measure by the carman and co.*
Without further prologue I shall acquaint [you] with
my adventures since I left you, which, though perhaps
* The carman, the driver of a primitive two-wheeled vehicle,
drawn by one horse, was the common carrier of goods, small
parcels, and frequently of letters throughout Ireland, previous to
the introduction of railways..
VOL. II.—1*
4
LETTERS FROM EDMUND BURKE
not so entertaining nor so full of surprising events as
those of Don Quixote, may serve to let you know that
Dick Chidley and I arrived pretty safe at this city rather
of the latest, for the gaozeλλ watchman had the impu-
dence to inform the town how bad travellers we were, by
crying, "Past twelve o'clock !" I was, however, let in,
went to bed, slept, and was sent in company with Jack
Baily immediately after breakfast next morning (i. e.
Monday morning) to Dr. Pelissier, Fellow of Trinity
College near Dublin, a gentleman (since it falls in my
way to give his conjectural character) accounted one of
the most learned in the University, an exceedingly
good-humoured, cleanly, civil fellow. (N. B.-I judge
by outward appearances). We were admitted into his
rooms, and he has three very grand ones; he and Jack
Baily had a good deal of chat, and a couple of men were
setting up a barometer in his room, so he could not for
a while examine me. At last he brought out Francis's
Horace, Dauphine's Virgil, and Homer with I don't
know whose notes; he made me construe Scriberis vario,
&c., Eheu fugacis, Postume, &c., and in Virgil I begun
the 103rd line of the sixth Æneid, and in Homer with
the 227th line of the third Iliad and the 406th of the
sixth; and he was pleased to say (what I would not
say after him unless to a particular friend) that I was
a good scholar, understood the authors very well, and
seemed to take pleasure in them (yet, by-the-bye, I
don't know how he could tell that), and that I was
more fit for the College than three parts of my class;
but he told me I must be examined again by the senior
TO RICHARD SHACKLETON.
5
lecturer. He was sent for, but was not at home;
therefore Dr. Pelissier told me I must have the trouble
of calling again. He was going out, and introduced
me (according to custom, I believe), to the Provost,
who is an old, sickly-looking man. To be short, this
morning I was examined very strictly, with another
young lad, by Mr. Aubins, or Robbins (I don't know
which), the senior lecturer, in the Odes, Sermons, and
Epistles of Horace, and am admitted. I cannot ex-
press, nor have I the knack of doing it, how much I
am obliged to your father for the extraordinary pains.
and care he has taken with me, so as to merit the
commendation of my tutor, and all I can do is to
behave myself so as not to bring a scandal upon him
or his school. I've nought more to say, but that yes-
terday I went to J. Fletcher's to invite your mother;
she was not at home. I left the letters for her. Pray
remember my love to all my schoolfellows, and to
Mr. Burn in particular. Tell Master Pearce for his
comfort that I was examined in As in præs., and give
[my] service to all the girls, and inform Nanny Morris.
that I have thought of her once or twice, and that if
she has a mind for a coach-and-six let her tell what
coloured horses she will have, and it shall be sent her
by the first opportunity; but in the meantime give her
a box, and place it to account, and this shall be suffi-
cient warrant for so doing; and it is almost night, and
I must write to the master, so I must conclude without
more ado, all-a-one now,
NED BURKE.
6
LETTERS FROM EDMUND BURKE
P.S.-I saw your friend Herbert at his shop-door
as I went to the College to-day, and I stood awhile
to speak to him. I went to see Mr. Brugh, but he was
gone out of town. The Microcosm will leave town the
28th, so consider what to do. Send to me the next
carman that goes, and I'll send you something, or send
Harry Bawne.
LETTER II.
Dublin, May 10th, 1744.
Dear Dicky,
I thought to have had the pleasure of your
conversation longer in town, and to that end called at
Mr. Kearney's the morning that you went off; but
without saying any more, you very well know the con-
sequence without my telling it, such as usually happens
on such occasions. But perhaps you're now thinking
that the next word that comes out will be, with all the
marks of wild despair I tore my flowing robes and rent
my hair, bid woods and rocks be witness of my grief,
and gods and men implored to my relief, &c., &c., and
such like stuff, which people are apt to father upon
Apollo and the Muses, though God knows that several
children are called by the names of those that never
got 'em ; nor did I faint, but very calmly said, as usual,
that I was surprised at the suddenness of your depar-
ture, was sorry for it, got my wig, and went to the Col-
lege. You said, if I don't forget, that you would read
the same authors that I do here, which in my opinion is
Ho
TO RICHARD SHACKLETON.
7
as useful a thing as you could do. Consult your master
about it, and see how he approves of it. If he does, you
had better take it in hands immediately. It is as fol-
lows:-nine first chapters of Burgersdicius, the six last
Æneids of Virgil, the Enchiridion of Epictetus, with the
Tabula Cebetis, which my tutor recommended as a very
fine picture of human life. It is the work of one Cebes,
an ancient Theban philosopher, written in the allegorical
way. I have no more to say, because, to tell the truth,
I have scarcely any subject to talk about.*
*
LETTER III.
*
May 29th, 1744-
I can impute your letter but to two causes-the one,
want of a subject to write on, and the other, bad humour
or the spleen; which begot, as I suppose, the scolding
or jarring that runs through your disagreeable favour, or
rather is the very essence of it; and I assure you, that
if I had the least time to spare I would search your
favour, and would certainly find something which I
would take δαμναβλυ ιλλ, and afford me a subject very
proper to shew how excellent I was in the Thersitical
way. Enough of this; proceed we now to take notice
of the remaining part of your favour. I find that the
all-conquering power of death is continuing to manifest
itself among you, and that you have accompanied to
* The remainder of this letter is torn off.--Editor.
8
LETTERS FROM EDMUND BURKE
their last habitation a couple of your neighbours; and
the next we shall hear of is, alas! how can I say it,
poor Mrs. B
- Ah! how uncertain is human glory,
how unstable is the greatness of mortals! To-day they
are exalted high, surrounded with pomp and glory;
to-morrow they fall by the hands of unrelenting Death
(oh, what a victim!) low, low into the cold and melan-
choly grave! Poor B, who could equal thee in the
chase? Thou wert the faithful servant, indeed; thou
wert the only solace of thy master in all his afflictions:
when he sees thee dead, how he will tear his hair, curse
the day of his birth, and wish to die! I must too, I
think, sign the death-warrant; but, seriously, I would
not have you kill the poor beast for the fault of his
brutal, Popish-Huguenot master. I will, however, send
the thing if you wish. Indeed I'm heartily sorry for
poor Mr. Noel, because I wished him well on the score
of his innocence, and that nothing hinders but what we
may be so, or worse, ourselves, one time or another; and
I wonder that he should so entirely give himself over
to despair for a thing that is noways out of the common
road of life. To-morrow, my dear Dick, when you are
performing that agreeable task of forming the hands of
the fair to express in a pleasing manner by the pen the
soft ideas of their breast, think, I say think (and forget
your pleasure awhile as you let loose one friendly sigh),
that I stand examination before a parcel of old fellows,
whose business is to examine and cross-examine me;
then pity, and let your pity draw one sigh, a tribute to
your friend, which will cheer and animate my heart.
TO RICHARD SHACKLETON.
9
I will, the next post after the receipt of your answer to
this, give you a full account of my manner of spending
my life, because I have small time now-so conclude
your sincere friend,
E. B.
LETTER IV.
Eight of the clock, Tuesday, June 26th, 1744.
Dear Dick's agreeable favours of the 21st and 24th
instant lie before me, which I will endeavour to answer
as well as I can.
Sir,-The cause of my sending you that high and
mighty epistle proceeded from your styling me "Esq." a
title that I have not the least right to; but as you, the
humblest of my humble servants, have been pleased to
confer it on me, I should think myself highly blamable
did I not make use of my just prerogative. Yesterday,
about a couple of hours before I received your favour, I
had the honour of meeting the Hon. Edward Sands,
Esq. going to see the militia of this city reviewed (who
made a very handsome appearance, and in my opinion
could deal with an equal, if not a superior, number of
men); so I saw Mr. Sands a little too late, but you may
assure yourself, as I see him very often, I will not fail
to make all possible enquiries into the youth.
Night creeps on apace, so that though I have abun-
dance to say I must here break off, ardently wishing for
the happy time in which I shall see my friend, with
JO
LETTERS FROM EDMUND BURKE
whom I may et novas audire et reddere voces.
I hope
no longer time shall separate us than the middle of
next month, and till then assure yourself that I will,
and always will, continue your sincere friend,
E. B.
LETTER V.
Seven o'clock, from my own room, just
returned from College; June 29th, 1744.
Since I received dear Dick's last favour I happened
to meet an old acquaintance of mine very unexpectedly,
and thus. After morning lecture, as it's my custom, I
walked with two or three of my acquaintance in the
College Park, and sitting on the wall chatting about
one thing or other, I saw one I thought I knew pass-
ing me, along with the park-keeper; he stared at me.
and I at him, when we immediately knew one another
to be honest Mr.
and N. Burke. He told [me]
that he had lost his testimonium, and was coming to get
another if he could; he told me that your academy was
in a flourishing condition (in which may it long con-
tinue!) and that he was in some haste, and desired me
to call on him that evening. I charged him not to dis-
appoint me, knowing what an odd sort of a man he
was. He did, however, notwithstanding my frequent
admonitions and his frequent promises. I met him by
chance next morning in Chequer Lane; after taxing
him with a breach of promise, he informed me that he
TO RICHARD SHACKLETON.
I I
was going that minute to the bishop to be ordained, and
was to pass some examination, for which he told me he
was but little prepared, but desired me to come to him
this day and he would tell me all. I went, and was
once more disappointed; thus you see I can't give you
any certain account of him as yet. But have I not been
too prolix, and related trivial circumstances that I need
not? I think I have, and been guilty of the same fault
often before; but I won't transgress again, and will en-
deavour to be a little more concise for the future. I
can't, however, help telling you for my life, that I some-
times see M. Ramsey in the College, but I shall say no
more of him. I must by this send what I hope soon to
say by word of mouth; I desire to have my best respects
to your father, whose goodness and care to me was
boundless; but I will omit here all I have to say, because
I shall better express to himself the remembrance I
have of all his favours, a remembrance which only
death will efface. No, I mistake; I will never be able
to express myself, for when I would tell him the dic-
tates of a sincere heart, I am dash'd, and look more like
a silly calf than a grateful scholar. But let dear Dick
be assured that, whatever my appearances may be, I
am his sincere friend,
E. BURKE.
I 2
LETTERS FROM EDMUND BURKE
LETTER VI.
Dublin, July 5th, 1744, from my own apartment.
Thursday, half an hour after 12.
Dear Dick I hope is convinced that I sit down to
nothing with so great pleasure as to write to him, and
that there is no enjoyment that I would not most will-
ingly sacrifice unto it; and though I must confess my
inability to entertain him with anything which is not
trifling, I hope he will excuse me when he considers that
I buy his correspondence at a dear rate-even at the
price of being ridiculous, which will show how much I
prize it; but this is not to the purpose, therefore I now
proceed to answer your letters (alias, agreeable favours).
You hope I am genteel, you say, and impudent. As
for the first, I have not the least pretensions; but I
really think I have such a stock of the latter that I may
well say, "From more of it, good Lord, deliver us;" but
I am very much afraid that I never shall be able to
attain to that becoming confidence which renders a per-
son so agreeable in all companies he converses with.
Another thing, dear Dick-to tell my own imperfections
-is, I am quite dumb in mixed company, for there the
discourse is more confined, seldom extends farther than
news, the weather, and dress, which, as Mr. Addison
justly remarks in the Spectator, is wonderful, considering
as there are a greater number of persons by, that more
ideas should not start up among 'em to furnish topicks
for conversation; but this I am endeavouring to wean
TO RICHARD SHACKLETON.
13
myself from. Never fear my losing your letter in the
College, for it would be a terrible thing for me, indeed,
if such a treasonable paper should be found after me; be-
sides, I am too fond of dear Dick's letters to expose ['em]
after that manner by carrying 'em in my pocket. The
things you ordered me to buy I will bring with me when
I go towards your regions. Your criticism on your
writing is both judicious and witty, and since you give
such hard names to such an excellent piece of penman-
ship as yours, pray what title will you give mine? And
now to conclude the answer of your favour, my sister,
alias
your Dulcinea, protests she will not have the least
compassion on your sufferings, or favour you in any
sort, unless you act the true knight-errant, and obey
these few commands which she desires me to give you,
and,
Ist-That you immediately take horse, attended only
with one trusty squire, and go in search of adventures
until you arrive at Scarecroania, a great island in the
Caspian Sea, where King Chrononhotonthologos keeps
his court; and when you come there you must with-
out delay march to the castle, the first gate of which is
guarded by a giant with a mighty club, called Hurlo-
thrumbo. Him if you pass, you go into an open court,
and thence to another gate which is guarded by two dread
griffins who stand with open jaws ready to devour you.
If you kill these, you have free access into the next
court, in which stand five hundred valiant knights, all
cased in armour of shining steel, and above them in a
gallery 150 dire enchanters with envenomed spells, all
14
LETTERS FROM EDMUND BURKE
which you must conquer before you can come near the
apartment of King Chrononhotonthologos; and even
then you must penetrate through fifty thousand brazen
doors, lock'd with inexorable bolts, before you can touch
the monarch of Scarecroania. Him you must kill, take
out his heart, which is hairy, and in it you will find a
little drop of blood call'd Cupido; this you must put in
a phial, which is on the summit of a tower in his castle
sixty thousand yards high, the walls of which are as
smooth as glass, without a ladder or step. You see the
danger; undertake it if you will.
2nd-She desires you to take Ægypt in your way,
and you will find ranged among the Pyramids 800,000
millions of valiant soldiers and 60 millions of enchanters,
headed by the chief magician, Kalistopoiomenos of the
Square Cap. These you cannot destroy, for their num-
ber, any otherwise than by throwing down the Pyramids
upon their heads. After this, that your mistress may see
your conquest, you must vanquish the giant Poluphlos-
boiomenos, who is seventy thousand cubits high, and has
20,000 pair of hands, and make him carry to her all
their heads.
So much for your fine flourish
at the end of your favour. Now I proceed to your last,
and inform you that I am perfectly easy on that score,
and receive very few set-downs. I wrote to Dick about
cleanliness; desire him to show you the letter, and you
will oblige me if you read it to him, and take occasion
from thence to recommend cleanliness to him. I beg
of you (as I am well assured of your friendship, I know
you won't refuse) to acquaint me of Dick's behaviour;
TO RICHARD SHACKLETON.
15
whether he is changed for the better or the worse, or
whether he is as cross as usual, or whether he endea-
vours to please your father or those put over him im-
partially. As you choose to represent yourself as a
considerable man in the republic of Dullness, I shall
endeavour to exceed you by being king of it, and styling
myself
C. CIBBER, Esq., Laur.
LETTER VII.
Dublin, June 11th, 1744, 12 o'clock;
without knowing any of your astro-
nomical devilments.
Returning yesterday from the college I met my father's
clerk going to the post-office, and thither with him I
went, and with the utmost pleasure received your agree-
able favours; so that without your calculations I can
inform you that they blest my hands in due time; but
unluckily (as such usually attend me) I opened your
last one first, in which I perceived
But now let us
omit it until its proper place, where we will treat more
fully of it. I am pleased to hear that your aunt and
sister arrived safe at your mansions. I had not the
satisfaction of seeing 'em before they went; though I
can't attribute it to myself, as I was at Fletcher's to
enquire for 'em, but the birds were flown. I therefore
left the Cowshed with Slator. But here, since I men-
tion him, it won't, I hope, be amiss to give you an
16
LETTERS FROM EDMUND BURKE
account of those I met the day I went there, and, by
way of an appendix, the state of their affairs. But now
I was just going to invoke some sacred Muse, who
should, in a pompous style adapted to the greatness of
the subject, describe the manner in which the state of
your affairs lay; but wisely considered that you should
think all I say spoke metaphorically, and so not believe
a word of it; therefore I am resolved to confine myself
to the strict truth of the narration.
As I came from Fletcher's, in Thomas-street by the
Market House, who should I meet? You would not
guess if you were thinking this hour? Guess if you
can without looking any farther-Josey! What Josey?
Why, Josey Delany! Him I met in that juncture with
no better clothing than his old waistcoat which he wore
so long in Ballitore, exactly in the same cu [sic] that he
was there, in all things about him, except a basket full
of some wooden things or other which he carried under
his arm. Veterem agnovit amicum; we knew each
other at first sight. After mutual salutations, questions
about Ballitore, &c. I asked him whether Dublin air
agreed with him. These were his words: "Very in-
differently," replies Josey. "Why so, Josey?" Here
he answered nothing for a good while; at last out it
"Sure I'm married!" "To whom, pray?"
a girl of this town!" "Where do you live?"
Dolphin's-barn Lane." Thus we parted. He looks very
thin and melancholy, so it seems his affairs are but in
a bad situation; the waistcoat he wore was at least five
or six inches too wide. But now I come to what troubles
"To
came-
"In
TO RICHARD SHACKLETON.
17
me sincerely, and to him I think the most unfortunate
of the two, though not in the poorest condition-I mean
Slator. Poor Johnny! where now is that liveliness,
sprightliness, or even madness that was so agreeable in
all your sportive actions, which rendered so diverting
your every thought, your every word. "Oh the devil !”
No, no, not such a word to be got now from him, but a
most dejected melancholy and sadness. I met him in
the street, where indeed I think he could scarcely walk;
so pale, of a yellowish paleness I scarcely ever thought
he could be. I went with him to the shop; he spoke
very little, and that exceedingly low and faint. I ask'd
him was he sick? He answered no, but he did not
speak his mind. I believe if his condition does not be
speedily mended, he will not live a half year, for he
is a mere hackleton [sic], and has a very sickly look;
and this may be, I think, attributed to his devil of an
aunt; of whom I will give you, when I see you next, a
full description of. I observed upon this that those
who are most lively and mad that way, are usually quite
sunk and dispirited in adversity, as is the most
dispirited lad I ever saw. But not to detain you longer
with a long digression equally disagreeable to us both,
for
you can't but be grieved for poor Johnny as I am―
I'm sure if the first part concerning Josey was some-
thing comic, you have the tragic in the latter—and to
return to your fair
Hills, vales, and rocks with shifting Io's ring,
Io Ricarde! Io Pean, sing.
VOL. IL-2
18
LETTERS FROM EDMUND BURKE
So the two boobies have left Ballitore, as they did
Edenderry, as it's probable will soon quit Portarlington,
and then where the devil will they go? Their travels
are thus. The boobies finding France too hot for 'em,
they retired to Holland, from thence to London, thence
to Dublin, thence to Edenderry, thence to Ballitore,
thence to Portarlington-and where next?
LETTER VIII.
June 14th, 1744.
No malicious person, no sprite deceived you under the
borrowed name of your friend; the letter you say you got
under my name was originally intended for my brother,
so that will serve for an apology for it. I have just
made an epigram on that, for I think an excellent one
may spring from it. But because I think the point
which essentially constitutes the beauty of writings of
this kind was not justly placed, I showed the malice of
my teeth to it. I am sorry I could not hit it for your
amusement, but it can't be helped; it is a pity it was
not the hand of a better.
I perceive by the
date of your letters that you are a great proficient in the
noble science of astronomy. I could hardly understand
it for a while, and indeed I think you're highly to be
commended for your application to it. If I were to
speak about it, you are so well versed in all its parts
that you would perceive a thousand errors in one sen-
tence, and as you are so well acquainted with all the
beauties of the heavens. I call 'em beauties, for beauty
•
TO RICHARD SHACKLETON.
19
consists in variety and uniformity, and is that not
abundantly shown in the motion and form of the
heavenly bodies? What grander idea can the mind of
man form to itself than a prodigious, glorious, and
fiery globe hanging in the midst of an infinite and
boundless space, surrounded with bodies of whom our
earth is scarcely anything in comparison, moving their
rounds about its body, and held tight to their respec-
tive orbits by the attractive force inherent to it; while
they are expended in the same space by the force of the
Creator's almighty arm! And then let us cast our
eyes up to the spangled canopy of heaven, where innu-
merable luminaries at such an immense distance from
us cover the face of the skies—all suns as great as that
which illumines us-surrounded with earths perhaps no
way inferior to the ball which we inhabit, and no part
of the amazing whole unfilled; systems running into
systems, and worlds bordering on worlds! Sun, earth,
moon, stars, be ye made, and they were made! The
word of the Creator sufficient to create universe from
nothing! Pursue the noble task; a nobler theme was
never sung!
Oh may some heavenly muse place you upon
The lofty top of towering Helicon;
Remove the mist that clouds your mortal eyes ;
Discover all the secrets of the skies;
Show you
these orbs that man has never seen,
Of largest tubes assisted by the ken;
While the great view, in harmony divine,
You sing, assisted by the tuneful Nine.
2*
20
LETTERS FROM EDMUND BURKE
This shall be my form of prayer till I hear from you
again, and receive these strains with which the divine
Mantuan declares he was so enamoured. Herbert has
desired me to beg of you to write to him, and to keep
up your old correspondence; and he says he would
write if he had any time, for he goes to school every
day, and attends at other times a shop full of business.
However, if you will favour him with a hebdominal
line, he will contrive a way to answer it rather than be
deprived of your agreeable correspondence.
Your sincerely affectionate friend,
E. BURKE.
LETTER IX.
Dublin, June 21, 1744. Thursday, 'twixt 2 and 3,
from my own bureau. You are hereby ordered
to date your letters from the place you sit.
Honest Dick,
That letter of yours came by post to my hands,
and if I could spare time on such business I don't know
but I might answer it particularly; but as I have affairs
of much consequence to trouble me, as you know (being
wholly taken up with attending one thing or other
which it is not material to tell you) since my election,
it were needless to inform you of more than that I am
well, as are all here; and that I desire you to be diligent
in your business, take care not to let people lavish my
substance, mind the hay, and inform me how the har-
TO RICHARD SHACKLETON.
21
vest goes on-if it be good, they will be well able to
pay the rent this year-and whether your wife spins
better, for the last I received was extraordinary ill.
Take care once more; be diligent, and you shall see the
effects of my munificence (an old coat or so); and, on
the contrary, if you turn out idle or dishonest, be sure
to feel the marks of my highest displeasure, so as to be
reduced once more to the wretched condition my exten-
sive charity has taken you out of. I wrote more than
indeed I intended, but because I find you careful and
honest, I grant you this favour extraordinary, and
hope that you will not grow conceited on it, nor assume
airs that don't become men of your condition, for this
and all the numberless favours and kindnesses heaped
upon you by your imperious and haughty master,
EDMUND BURKE, Esq.
P.S.-Tell Tom Lawless that if I don't hear a better
account of him than heretofore, he must no longer hope
to have the honour of being my servant. Answer this
in humble submission.
The foregoing I wrote as I am an esquire. But this
I address to you as I am your sincere friend, plain N.B.
and therefore beg one favour of you, that is to burn the
letter I sent you about I. B., and to inform me whether
you shewed it to any one. I once more desire you to
commit the paper to the flames, for reasons I will tell
pleasure of seeing you, which I
The error about Dick Long was
you when I have the
hope may be shortly.
22
LETTERS FROM EDMUND BURKE
insignificant, and I thought at first the mistake was
mine, supposing I had directed both to R. S.;
and on
that foundation I built the Esq., but was mistaken, and
if it were right (for, not liking, I tore it in pieces) I can't
remember a word on't. I met Mr. Ramsay twice walk-
ing about the College; he looked miserably, and told
me he had got no place. I saw Sands when I went last
to receive your letters; he got one from you, and I was
luckily at hand to testify the truth of your assertion
that the mice ate the books in your own bureau. As to
the Muses being fled, I believe it is a sham to deter me
from compelling you, by the authority you have invested
me with, to write such a poem as your are ordered to
do. I would not, however, have anything forced; write
burlesque if you will. I am sure you have an ample
subject in so bad a piece as that I last sent you; and if
you have a mind for a little more of the Muse's com-
pany, you must not study so hard. Omit it for a few
days, for she is a dame that hates hard labour of any
kind.
Now I have stuffed my devil, I can write no more, but
that I am, dear sir, your exceedingly honorable servant,
COWSHED.
Excuse these dashes, for Garrett is boxing my ears,
and desires to give his respects to you.
TO RICHARD SHACKLETON.
23
LETTER X.
Dublin, July 7th, 1744; from the usual
place; past 6 o'clock.
Dear Dick,
I received both your favours at the same
time, i. e. on last Wednesday, and answered them, and
since that am favoured with another which I have now
before me, and promise you not to forget bringing along
with me (for I am pretty sure of going) the things you
wrote for. I have yours. I shall never forgive you if
you don't send me enclosed in your answer to this -
Here the dancing master interrupted me.
How long
he staid! How disagreeable were his tunes! because
they delayed me from conversing with dear Dick. I
am not very merry this evening; my usual gaiety has
forsook me for a while, and left me in a serious mood,
which naturally inclines my thoughts to something
melancholy; and among others of the kind that enter-
tain me now (for I am wholly idle this afternoon) I shall
-because I have nothing else to fill up this with at
present-pen you down my reflections on a pretty
tragical accident that happened the other day. Mr.
Harding, a gentleman with whom my father is inti-
mately acquainted, had a clerk, a lad untainted in his
character with any sort of crime, and universally be-
loved by all that knew him. There lived in the same
house a servant maid who took care of the children, to
24
LETTERS FROM EDMUND BURKE
whom he had often proposed marriage, and was as often
refused. As he had conducted the matter privately, no
one knew anything of it, so it was hushed entirely for
a while, when a Frenchman who used to teach his
native language to this gentleman's children, and who
it seems had a higher place in the girl's affections than
the clerk, lands from England. Generous minds would
sooner die than gain their ends by a dishonourable
method. He saw that his rival had come to supplant
him; he scorned to manage matters with that low and
mean dexterity that it was in his power to have done.
As he lived in the family, he saw that nothing was left
to cure his unhappy passion but death; to effect which,
in the greatest despair he went to an apothecary's
shop in Dame-street, where he bought as much white
arsenic as would send him to the other world. To
shorten this melancholy story, the effects of the poison
soon became visible, and notwithstanding all the efforts
of a family who laboured heartily for his preservation,
he died after a great deal of struggling in unexpressible
torments. This accident has altered my sentiments
concerning love, so that I am now not only convinced
that there is such a thing as love, but that it may very
probably be the source of as many misfortunes as are
usually ascribed to it. This may, I think, be a suf-
ficient example to show to what lengths an unrestrained
passion, though virtuous in itself, may carry a man,
and with how much craft and subtlety our great enemy
' endeavours by all means to work our destruction; how
he lays a bait in every thing; and how much need we
TO RICHARD SHACKLETON.
25
have to care lest he make too sure of us, as is the case
of that unfortunate youth.
Amidst this gloomy prospect of unhappy love, let me
style myself with a pure and sincere affection, dear
Dick's assured friend,
E. B.
LETTER XI.
Tuesday, past one o'clock; July 10th, 1744.
Dear Dick,
I assure you that I think your treatise on Self-
love a very curious and judicious piece, which was en-
tirely pleasing to me, not only for the lively and natural
lines of poetry (which shone among your morality like
diamonds set in gold) but for the curious remarks you
made on that passion which we vulgarly call love of
women, though you have plainly proved it to be love of
ourselves. But if you had read a little more of that
sprightly Dutch author, Burgersdyck, he would have
taught you to have thrown your syllogisms into a more
concise method. You desired me when I had nothing
else to do, to sit down and write a great big panegyrick
on Damer, and what did I do? I immediately took
slate and pencil, and fell to scribbling not any pane-
gyrick, but a moral treatise forsooth, and I writ of
that perhaps ten or twelve lines; but, foreseeing that I
could not do it in less than two hundred lines at least,
and the Muse being in a very bad humour, I left it off.
Here take what I wrote:
25
LETTERS FROM EDMUND BURKE
Almighty Self-love and her power I sing,
Of all we do first mover and first spring;
By her command I undertake this song;
Be it her care its labour to prolong.
Let me, my friend,* arrest thine ear awhile,
Deign on this work propitiously to smile.
As your epistle and well writ Essay
Serve as a torch to light me on my way,
While I explore wild Self-love's mazy course,
And trace the passion to the common source.
I utterly detest all sorts of flattery, and therefore you
must not think that I would in any wise employ the
Muse to any such mean ends. I am sorry I ever wrote
any such to him, but I am glad that they are now in
the lap of oblivion. I deny not but that the gentleman
has abundance of virtues sufficient to make him loved
and esteemed by all that know him. Were he a peer,
or one who possessed any eminent employment in the
state, I would think no crime in giving him a little
spice of that flattery; but as he is a private gentleman,
had he a million a-year I should scorn for the sake of
the finest presents he could possibly make me to send
him a mean scroll of lying verse. If he could [make]
me any other present, I would be ready to show my gra-
titude in plain prose. This morning, before I was out
of my nest, (having lain longer than usual, not being
very well) I received yours by Harry Bawn. I have
not bought the books as yet, but will not fail to bring
'em with me when I shall have the pleasure of seeing
* I intended to send it to you.
感
​TO RICHARD SHACKLETON.
27
you. Your Treatise of Self-love puts me in mind of
Pope's Ethick Epistles, which I lately bought on Her-
bert's recommendation, and I assure you they are very
fine. I'll bring them with me too. Give my love to
Murray, and tell him I long to see his sweet face. Who
is your chum ?
LETTER XII.
Dublin, July 14th, 1744; from my usual place,
almost eleven o'clock.
I don't in the least doubt but that before this time
there has been a court called in dear Dick's breast ;
and that I have been therein accused, found guilty, and
condemned to the most rigorous punishments which
the law inflicts on such crimes. But oh! how vain and
how little to be trusted are appearances! I, that Ned
Burke, that perfidious wretch, that criminal who was
so deservedly found guilty of that most terrible breach
of the laws of friendship, even so far as to neglect
answering his friend's favour, and to have no excuse for
it but his unpardonable laziness, what! neglect so fair
an opportunity of cultivating so delightful and improv-
ing commerce!—that Ned Burke, I say, that so deem-
ing unpardonable villain, is entirely innocent of all the
crimes laid to his charge. He has answered your letters
punctually, and would not [neglect] doing it on any
consideration but [for] accidents, unavoidable accidents,
which all the skill and cunning of man could not pre-
28
LETTERS FROM EDMUND BURKE
vent or foresee. To be short, I gave the letter to my
brother to carry to the post-office, but he forgot to do it;
therefore I must send it along with this, per to-day's
post. Upon the whole I hope you will be prevailed
upon to repeal the sentence, and your petitioner, as in
duty bound, shall for ever pray.
I am glad to hear that you have parted with the
noble Chevalier Aimé,* whose good qualities, engaging
behaviour, and inimitable politeness has gained him the
esteem and love of all those who had the honour of his
acquaintance. I am at a loss whether to prefer the
noble sincerity, unaffected love, and noble greatness of
soul and goodness of heart, qualities of which this
charming youth was possessed of in so eminent a de-
gree, or his agreeable and humble politeness, which
gave a lustre and additional value to his virtues, and
which rendered him so justly the darling of the people.
Go, dear youth, be happy in whatever part of the world
you shall range; let the angels who guard the just be
your protectors among your enemies; let them guard
you sleeping, and attend you waking, and spread their
pinions for your shield; let 'em convey you midst
nations inhabited by fiercest barbarians, that you may
by the innate mildness and sweetness of your disposi-
tion tame their uncultivated morals more sweetly than
the divine Orpheus, though the woods followed and
listened to his song! Fly, generous soul, from the
power of envy, and you
will subdue it; leave those who,
* A French boy, who had just left Ballitore shool.
•
TO RICHARD SHACKLETON.
29
not knowing your noble qualities, despise 'em and hate
you for 'em. Go forth; show yourself to mankind, nor
hide from 'em that light which was destined to shine at
once the delight and wonder of the world! Hah! I
think I have penned the Chevalier's elogium, which I
hope will always be a good answer to the satirical fare-
well of my friend, and herein I have proved the famous
logical thesis to be a lie, i. e. Contraria non possunt
simul esse vera, sed possunt simul esse falsa. Negatur
pars prior satyræ, enim elogio est contraria. And here
I fling away my syllogisms and devilments that I was
going to make; for the noise I just heard made me go
down to know the occasion, and found that my mother
is just, after all this day's suffering, brought to bed of
a girl.
I am in haste, but not in too much to assure dear
Dick that I am his sincere friend,
E. B.
LETTER XIII.
Arran Quay, October 15th, 1744.
The hurry of examinations is at length over, and I
sit down to write to my dear Dick with much greater
pleasure, since no business interrupts or hinders me
speaking my thoughts with the freedom of an undis-
turbed mind. I am entirely of your opinion concerning
being diligent; I know that it's the gate by which we
must pass to knowledge and fortune; that without it
we were both unserviceable to ourselves and our fellow-
30
LETTERS FROM EDMUND BURKE
to me.
creatures, and a burthen to the earth; knowledge is,
doubtless, the greatest acquisition we can make, because
it is what denominates us men, and, as you remarked,
is the most essential difference between us and the
brute beasts. I shall say no more about it for fear I
should be asked the question why I don't follow what
I so much approve, and be more studious. Perhaps
bona videoque, proboque; deteriora sequor, is applicable
I know what is good, like the Athenians; but
don't practise like the Lacedæmonians. What would
not I give to have my spirits a little more settled! I am
too giddy; this is the bane of my life; it hurries me
from my studies to trifles, and I am afraid it will hinder
me from knowing anything thoroughly. I have a super-
ficial knowledge of many things, but scarce the bottom
of any, so that I have no manner of right to the pre-
ference you give me in the first. As to the second I
told you my opinion when I had last the pleasure of
seeing you. I have no relish at all for that sort of life,
so that I may say with Cowley, "If e'er ambition did
my, &c. &c." What made you stop short in the mid-
dle of your discourse? I am sure I should not be dis-
pleased at hearing all the praises you could possibly
bestow on a belief which you profess, and which you
believe to be the true and pure doctrine of Christ.
We take different roads, 'tis true, and since our inten-
tion is to please Him who suffered the punishment of
our sins to justify us, He will, I believe, consider us
accordingly, and receive us into that glory which was
not merited by our own good deeds but by His suffer-
TO RICHARD SHACKLETON.
31
ings, which atone for our crimes. Far be it from me to
exclude from salvation such as believe not as I do ; but
indeed it is a melancholy thing to consider the diversi-
ties of sects and opinions amongst us. Men should not
for a small matter commit so great a crime as breaking
the unity of the church; and I am sure if the spirit of
humility, the greatest of Christian virtues, was our
guide, our sects and our religions would be much fewer.
Give me leave to add also, that since it is our misfortune
to have so many different opinions, we should not hide
our talent in the earth, but exert it with all diligence
in the great affair for the accomplishment of which we
were sent into the world-to witness salvation. God,
all merciful, all good, has given us a guide, a talent to
direct us in the slippery paths of the world; let us
then, my dear friend, earnestly and heartily set to work,
praying the Divine Being of His infinite mercy to help
us in our undertaking by the saving and enlightening
assistance of his Holy Spirit, while we seek what man-
ner of serving Him will most please our great Creator;
for it is impossible that all can be equally pleasing to
Him who has declared that as there is but one God, so
there is but one faith and one baptism. Oh, my friend,
what an account will those have to give, who, as if they
were asleep, pass their lives without the least consider-
ation of this! Will it be a sufficient excuse for them to
say that their intention was to serve God in that way?
No, no; it is the business of every one to search whether
their way be good; and if any man who knows this to
be his duty-as there is no Christian but does-if (I say)
32
LETTERS FROM EDMUND BURKE
he willingly neglects this and be found in a wrong way,
he will not be held guiltless before God- Then, my
dear Dick, let us take this into consideration (for indeed
it is a serious affair, and worth the attention even of our
whole lives) and implore the assistance of the Holy
Spirit which leads into all truth, and endeavour to walk
piously and godlily in the path our Great Redeemer has
showed us; confiding very little in our strength, but
casting ourselves upon Him who died for us, and with
great humility asking His assistance in knowing what
manner of serving Him will best please Him, that we
may not be in the number of those whose ignorance is
justly imputed to themselves. If we do this, I do not
in the least doubt but that God, of his great mercy, will
guide us in the right road. I very much approve of the
method you laid down for our correspondence; I will,
as much as I can, observe it. I must own that I can't,
with any freedom, write better; so you must excuse me
in that part, and in point of style, but I hope to improve
in that by degrees. I do not know to whom I could
write with greater freedom and less regularity than to
you, for as the thoughts come crowding into my head I
cannot forbear putting 'em down, be they in what order
or disorder they will. You will excuse me for this, and
for what mistakes and incongruities you may find in
my future letters; because you will believe that whether
what I say be well or ill expressed, it comes from a sin-
cere heart, and from one who is sincerely your friend.
God gives me good resolves sometimes, and I lead a
better life; they last for a time or so, sometimes more,
TO RICHARD SHACKLETON.
33
sometimes less, and then through the fickleness of my
temper and too great confidence in myself, I fall into my
old courses; aye, often far worse. You see my weak-
ness, dear Dick, and my failings; plead and pray for me;
we will pray for one another reciprocally. Praise be to
his holy name for all things, for every impulse of his
grace he gives me I praise him, and trust that he will
continue 'em to me, and make me persevere in 'em. Let
us lead the best life we can, and make it our study to
please him the best we can, both in faith and works.
I could write a great deal more with pleasure; I dare
not say you would be tired with reading, but that I find
my paper almost gone.
C
I would have wrote to you last Sunday, as you ex-
pected, had not the boy been returning with the horses,
and I thought it a convenient opportunity of answer-
ing your favour, and sending a hat and a couple of books
to Mick Kearney from his father. I went to visit him
as you desired me, and find him no way backward of
the character you gave me of him: I breakfasted with
him this morning. Do not forget my best respects to
the master, all whose favours to me and all the advan-
tages I received under his tuition I shall never forget.
The same to Mrs. Shackleton and to Mrs. Barnard,
and my love to Dick. Tell him I am in a great hurry,
and will write next opportunity. Yours unalterably,
NED BURKE.
VOL II.-3
34
LETTERS FROM EDMUND BURKE
LETTER XIV.
Arran Quay, Saturday, Nov. 24th, 1744.
I despatched the business you were so kind as to
favour me with, and shall always think myself obliged
by your commands. Kerby has the boots and spurs
safely locked up (as I saw), and therefore thought it
would be needless to remove 'em; but if you would
have 'em sent to Mr. Jackson's or my lodgings, they
shall, with the greatest pleasure. It but just this
moment came into my head that you desired me to go
to Grierson's to enquire about the books; but, before I
seal this, I'll go, and give you an account in the P. S.
?
My dear friend, when last I had the inestimable satis-
faction of his company, was please to appoint a subject
for our correspondence (you chose, if you remember,
astronomy) that might in some measure compensate for
this tedious absence we are to endure, and make our
converse as well useful as entertaining, though I am
sure nothing can come up to the sweet manner of pass-
ing our time we proposed: but
frustra comprensa manus effugit imago,
Par levibus ventis, volucrique simillima somno.
So we have no remedy but patience, and must endea-
vour to make it up by our correspondence, though
can't think that will answer near so well; for how
might we, if we had the happiness of being once more
TO RICHARD SHACKLETON.
35
together, mutually reciprocate our thoughts, our diffi-
culties, and our pleasures in what we read, smoothing
by that means the rugged path of knowledge, and de-
luding the tedious way by a friendly talk! For I know
by my own experience that nothing gives one greater
assistance in their studies then discoursing of them with
a friend, who they are sure will rather assist than deride
the weakness of some notions they may have, while em-
ployed in the dark and difficult scenes of nature, scan-
ning her ends and designs, and tracing the Almighty
Wisdom through his works.
I have not seen such a flood in the Liffey as is now
for some years; and our cellars, as well as all on the
quay, are full of water; and I, like a good child, spent
most of the morning sailing on it in a tub; and I believe
I should be at it till now, had not the water grown too
deep and an accident befallen me, which was this. After
having made two or three pretty successful voyages
into the Ocean of our street kitchen, I had a mind to try
my fortune in the Back Sea; but to be short, as soon as
I entered it, I perceived at a distance two bottles in a
terrible condition; who making signals of distress, I
made what sail I could to their relief.
But lo! my
ballast leaning starboard sunk me to the bottom, so I
was thrown ashore at a great distance from where I
foundered, and having changed clothes (my courage,
as you may guess, being pretty well cooled) I sat down
to write to my dear Dick.
The society, if you remember, we had thoughts of
erecting goes on slowly; for as Herbert informed me,
3*
36
LETTERS FROM EDMUND BURKE
and I know myself, members for our pnrpose are very
scarce; and though we had the number, we shall always
think it imperfect while it wants you.
LETTER XV.
Arran-quay, February 25th, 1744-5
past 4 o'clock.
Not guilty! This is my plea to the indictment which
now lies before me, and I hope to have a fair trial before
sentence passes on me, to enjoy at least that happy
mark of our liberty. I am indicted by the name of
Edmund Burke, &c., of feloniously, treacherously, and
maliciously, as not having the fear of God before my
eyes, carrying with me to a place called Ballitore a
book, the property of M. Kearney, and of then and
there I, the said Edmund Burke, like a false traitor,
did lend the said book to one of the servants, to the
detriment of said M. Kearney, his master's liege sub-
ject, &c. To all which, except the carrying the book to
Ballitore, I answer as above. I am really very much
surprised that any of your girls should have the confi-
dence to assert such an abominable falsehood of me.
The book, if you remember, lay in the room we slept
in; and, if I don't mistake, you read some part of it, as
did your sister. But I never looked into it after I left
it with you; much less did I presume to lend it to any
one. Pray tell me which of the girls says I did. I
told M. Kearney that evening I brought him the book,
TO RICHARD SHACKLETON.
37
to which he answered, "It's very well." However, if
it be not found, I am willing to pay for it. I sent the
belt to Paddy Byrne per Dick.
Herbert informs me that Booth will give another
course of lectures before he leaves town; and if the
senses conduce to fix anything in our memory,
if they
strengthen and clear our ideas, if the conversation of
our friends can [make] our studies agreeable, I am per-
suaded you'll receive the greatest benefit imaginable
from his lectures. I dare say the last is one of the
motives that will bring you to town, not to say the prin-
cipal, if I may judge your breast by my own. You
don't forget the society we proposed. I hope to see it
once more flourish, heightened and adorned by the pre-
sence of my friend. We have slept too long; come
and rouse us. You see how essential you are to our
happiness. Be not then cruel; but since you have
raised our hopes to such a degree, do not at once depress
them!
ނ
The famous Dr. Taylor still continues to lecture on
the eye and has a prodigious number of auditors. Last
night he endeavoured to explode the opinions of the
most famous among the ancients and moderns concern-
ing the seat of vision, and to set up in their stead a new
hypothesis of his own; but what it is he has not as yet
declared.
Herbert is angry you don't answer his letters. I be-
lieve I shall subscribe to Booth's next course.
Dear Dick, in haste, your sincere friend,
E. BURKE,
38
LETTERS FROM EDMUND BURKE
LETTER XVI.
Arran Quay, February, 1744-5; received yours.
I can't say I have much to divert with this day; my
ideas is almost spent with the constant and unthrifty
use I make of them; but perhaps you'll say anything
from a friend is welcome, though it were no more than
that he is well. Not so neither. I should always give
my friends the best in my power, and therefore that I
may find something both to divert you and employ my-
self, I'll cast my eyes back to the time when we could
find matter enough for conversation in the enjoyment
of one another. I'll revive some of our old discourses,
which will recall to our memory the time and place
they passed in, and so render 'em more agreeable by the
remembrance of the pleasure we then enjoyed. There
is implanted in us, doubtless for a good end, an insa-
tiable desire of truth; we spare no pains in search of
it; and when we have found it, or at least its appearance,
we are again as uneasy to communicate the fruit of our
labours to others. There is no one more troubled with
this failing than myself. It is against my nature to see
people in an opinion think without endeavouring to un-
deceive 'em. I'd willingly win the whole world to my
own way of thinking; a failing it is, yet such a one as
with all my efforts I can't get rid of. Let this be a
sufficient reason for what I am just going to say.
TO RICHARD SHACKLETON.
39
Yo
We have often discoursed concerning that part of the
creation called brutes, whom you [do] not allow to have
reason. 'Tis true, most people of late are of that opinion,
for all the books I have read which touch on the sub-
ject are on your side of the question; yet, we are not
blindly to follow the common opinion of the world,
which is often the most false, as is evident from a
thousand examples. How justly do we admire at the
credulity and sottishness of mankind, who for many
ages, without further examination, swallowed down all
the errors and absurdities of Aristotle, and those not the
mean and vulgar, but even the greatest and wisest men.
I am persuaded that if you throw aside prejudice, the
greatest obstacle we meet in search of truth, you will,
upon hearing my reasons, incline to think more favour-
ably of your fellow-creatures. For I assure you it's no
manner of discredit to man's reason for others to share
it with him; and lest you should misunderstand me, I
don't believe that the souls of brutes are any way equal
to that of man, but that their reason is in an inferior
or subordinate degree; nor can it ever arrive at the
lowest perfection of man's. Neither am I a Pythago-
rean, to think it a crime to kill and eat animals; no,
they are a link in Nature's chain, and as we serve them,
so they serve us. I shall begin with endeavouring to
answer some objections which I believe will take up all
this paper, and reserve the proof to another opportunity,
having already almost transgressed the bounds I pre-
scribed myself at first. The first and most common
objection is, that those creatures act all after the same
40
LETTERS FROM EDMUND BURKE
(6
manner in the building of their nests, care of their
young, pursuit after their prey, &c., in which they seem
to be guided by something greater than reason; else
they would differ according to their different occasions.
But this is impertinent, because we build not upon it,
but freely own and allow it to be performed by instinct,
which is likewise to be found in men. This being
quite out of the question, let us tell what is said
against one in Chambers' Dictionary, under the article
"Soul." And really I am amazed that men of sense
should swallow such miserable reasoning. Now, pray
hear it: "As to the souls of brutes, the Cartesians
deny its existence in the sense of the word, stripping
"it of all its powers and faculties; the Peripatetics, on
"the contrary, endow it with most of 'em." Now pray
attend: "The Cartesians argue that they have no per-
(c
"reason.
ceptions or notions at all, or that they feel any pain
"or pleasure; and that all they do is by the mechanism
"of their parts. The maintainers of the contrary
"opinion assert that the appearance of sense, caution,
"and love for their young, &c. argues that they have
. . And it's true that all the actions of
"beasts plainly express an understanding; every thing
"that is regular expresses it; even a machine or watch
all the motions of plants and
"brutes express it. . . . But the intelligence does not
"reside in the matter thereof; it is as distinct from the
"beast or plant, as that which made the wheels of a
"watch is different from the watch itself." Now comes
the best part, if you are not already surfeited: "Thus,
expresses it ..
((
TO RICHARD SHACKLETON.
41
(6
"in brutes there is neither understanding or soul; they
"eat without pleasure, and cry without pain, and grow
"without knowing it; they fear nothing, know nothing;
"and if they act in such manner as shows understand-
(C
ing, it is because God, to preserve them, has formed
"their bodies to avoid whatever may hurt 'em mechani-
"cally; otherwise it might be said that the vilest in-
"sect or smallest grain may be said to have more un-
"derstanding than the most knowing man; for it is
"evident that either of 'em contains more parts and
"produces more regular motions than we are capable of
"understanding. Thus does the great Malebranche
Really these argu-
argue against the souls of brutes."
ments scarce deserve a confutation, yet you shall see an
attempt towards one in my next. Send me some more
objections.
LETTER XVII.
Arran Quay, March 12th, 1744-5; past 5 o'clock.
My last long unanswered.
I can attribute your long silence to nothing but the
dislike you have taken to my letters in general, or to
my last in particular; indeed I was afraid to under-
take such a subject. I could not, had I my senses
about me, but have remembered how disagreeable it
was to hear the defence of an opinion you thought so
absurd; and doubtless it was my duty to have sub-
mitted to your better judgment, instead of vindicating
my errors; but if we believe the astrophilosophical sons
42
LETTERS FROM EDMUND BURKE
of Urania, there are times wherein we have not the least
command of ourselves, but are entirely at the will and
pleasure of the star that then has the ascendant over us
-without control its slaves, and susceptible of any im-
pression it is pleased to give us. In that condition I
don't in the least question but I was, at the time of my
writing the last ill-fated billet. Leo, or some other of
the bestial constellations,-highly affronted at the in-
dignity offered them of late, of stripping them of their
rationality (a privilege that they have been peaceably in
possession [of] time immemorial), having the ascendant
over me while I held the pen in my hand, not knowing
what to write, they compelled me, sore against my will,
to undertake a defence of their prerogative against the
most learned and judicious of their enemies; but with
what judgment you may guess. Therefore, considering
my case, I hope you will pardon me a fault I committed
by compulsion; and, since I am now free from their
malign influence, and have power of acting as I please,
I retract all [that] has been said, as I am sensible it
offends you, with a faithful promise never to trouble you
more with the least mention of so disagreeable a subject.
I am, dear Dick, yours, &c.,
NED BURKE.
I have something to say to you of Dr. Brugh, but I
have no time.
TO RICHARD SHACKLETON.
43
LETTER XVIII.
Office; March 15th, 1744-5, six o'clock.
Received yours both [by] the post just this
moment; no sooner.
As my father and mother are to leave town to-morrow,
I believe I shan't have time to answer yours, and there-
fore, sooner than leave one of your most agreeable
favours a moment unanswered, I'll snatch this little
opportunity from my business, and have this ready to
send by to-morrow's post. I am pleased that you can
so readily excuse a fault I was afraid I had committed,
and the more, because you encourage me to go on, by
promising to give me your objections, and not (as some,
perhaps, would have done) pass me by with a malicious
sneer on my ignorance. But you don't use me so; you
look on my weakness with moderation, and endeavour
to remove it by reason and mildness. You desire me
to throw aside prejudice; I do freely and candidly, and
expect the same from you. Let us not think that be-
cause an opinion is ours, that therefore we are obliged
to defend it against all reason and arguments that can
be urged against us. It is no shame to own that we
have been in the wrong; it only shews that we are
wiser now than formerly; whereas, to persist obstinately
in an opinion because it is ours betrays that we gain
nothing by the length of our lives, or at least that we
are unwilling to do it.
44
LETTERS FROM EDMUND BURKE
You tell me in the first of your favours, that you be-
lieve it is the pride of being thought superior to you in
understanding inspires me with such a desire of bring-
ing you to my opinion. Perhaps it's true; our passions
have springs that we are utterly unacquainted with, and
though it might not result from a pride of being thought
superior to you (as it did not) it might from the pride
of having such a one as you to back my opinion. Do
not think that I take at all ill that you advise me for
my good; just the contrary, you could not do me a
greater pleasure, and I beg you to continue it from time
to time as you see convenient. But, not to digress far-
ther upon the subject, I beg you, before we proceed any
further, casting aside all partiality, carefully,
Ist. To examine the actions of these creatures, as
the best rule we have to judge whether they have rea-
son or not.
2nd. To observe what agreement theirs have with
those of men, and then to search their causes.
3rd. To compare both; observing this grand maxim,
that like effects spring from like causes.
I might here enumerate more methods, but leave it
to your better judgment and maturer consideration, only
desiring you (contrary to the manner of most disputants)
not to be more intent on opposing me than finding out
the truth. Therefore, reason with yourself, resolving
neither to be guided in it by the general opinion either
of the learned or illiterate; for I had much rather you
should be brought to my way of thinking by your own
reasoning than mine. Goodnight, dear Dick, yours,
E. B.
TO RICHARD SHACKLETON.
45
LETTER XIX.
March 19th, 1744-5; from my study.
make yourum nextum longerum.
Dear Dick's favour of the 17th instant brought me
the agreeable news of his father's having hired an assis-
tant, together with the character of said assistant; who
by your account of him, seems to be an agreeable com-
panion, and in my opinion a dangerous one, too, at least
to your friends in town; whom probably his alluring
stories and gilded lies (as he is a traveller) will make
you forget, and entirely take away your desire of visit-
ing the metropolis, to the great loss and grief of us who
title ourselves your friends, and promised so much
satisfaction to ourselves from your company. But Jove
avert the omen!
I am of your mind concerning some of our discourses,
whether God can sin; it looks a little presumptuous,
but yet is useful, in case a person should be attacked on
that side. The syllogism you made, however, is faulty,
or is rather a sophism. I will (I beg pardon for my pre-
sumption) shew you its faults, because I will, after,
make a few observations: "God cannot lie; to lie is to
sin; therefore God cannot sin." The sophistry is appa-
rent; for lying is not every sin, though all lies may be
sins; and though a man may be a murderer, yet it does
not follow that he's a thief; or that because he's no
46
LETTERS FROM EDMUND BURKE
thief, that therefore he's no murderer. The next piece
of sophistry in it is a quibble on the word sin; for in
your minor proposition it's taken particularly, and in
the conclusion universally; i. e. its extension in that
one is restrained by the particular lie, and in the other
is quite undetermined. Neither is the conclusion the
effect of the premises, which is necessary to the syllo-
gism's being good. Pardon me, dear Dick, for accusing
you of sophistry. We must bear with one another
when we tell our errors; but perhaps you only made it
to try me. Did you?
There is nothing a man abhors more than being
deceived; and really nothing often may do him more
prejudice, and therefore nothing he should endeavour
more to avoid. What multitudes of things conspire to
deceive and blindfold a person in the pursuit of truth!
He imbibes prejudice with his milk; those he converses
with impose on him; his parents, and the very books
he reads (which should be the repository of truth and
reason when banished from the rest of the world !) all
join to hoodwink his reason, and make him see with
eyes not his own; but, above all, himself. He has in
that respect no greater enemy than his own person.
How fond are we of our own opinions, of our own
reasonings, purely because they are ours, the product,
the children of our own brain! How often do we in-
vent false reasoning and arguments to uphold 'em! and
who to deceive but ourselves? I think it's like the
story of the miser, who is reported to have robbed him-
self when he could not do so to any one else. You
TO RICHARD SHACKLETON.
47
would hardly believe this, had you not experienced it
yourself; just so it will be with me in our controversy,
for if I should happen to fall into any fallacies, I will de-
ceive myself as well as you. Conscious of the goodness
of my cause I long the trial should come on, and desire
you to prepare your evidences, and let it begin either
next post or the one after. How does my father and
mother? When did they [see] you?
Your sincere
friend,
NED BURKE.
LETTER
XX.
Dublin, July 4th, 1745; from my own bureau.
B. to S.
Dear Dick,
Your neglecting to answer our last letter has
very much surprised the whole club, but as we are fully
assured that you are incapable of forgetting your friends,
we impute your silence to some laudable study that's
too precious to be laid aside for answering our nonsense,
which, like a noisy intruder breaks in upon the charm-
ing retirement which seems to take up so much of your
thoughts, and which you have so finely described in a
former favour. If that be the case, had I more than
Captain Brazen's confidence (which you will allow is
pretty sufficient for one) I could not presume to disturb
you now; but come, frankly and "ingeniously," as a
certain author has it, confess that you have still some
hankering, some desire for this smoky town. If not, I
pa
48
LETTERS FROM EDMUND BURKE
am sure you are as great a convert as ever I knew.
True, indeed, I never knew an admirer of the town as
you have formerly been, express himself in such raptures
on purling streams, shady groves, and mossy banks; so
that I am apt to suspect your last visit to this city has
given you at once a surfeit of the town, and a true relish
for your rural pleasures. But where am I running from
the matter in hand? In short,we are a little angry.
And take this as a reprimand, that we may have no
more occasion to accuse you.
Another reason for troubling you with this (without
the rest of the club) is a report that John Dillon was
lately killed in a duel by Maurice Keatinge, jun., and
that the provocation was given by Mr. Dillon, who
would not be reconciled, though Mr. Keatinge endea-
voured all that in him lay to pacify him, representing
to him his having a wife and children, which himself
had not, and the value which he himself and father had
for him. Yet, nothing but by a bullet to be sent out
of the world would satisfy the other, which Mr. Keat-
inge very obligingly gave him. But as such stories are
usually told to the disadvantage of the slain, I wait to
hear the account with all its circumstances from you.
My third, last, and principal reason is to let you
know that your advice was taken, and has succeeded in
effects as you foretold; for this day judgments were
given out for last examinations, and I have got the pre-
mium in my division; and perhaps would have answered
better than I did, had we not had Wilder for our exa-
miner. Please to acquaint your father with this, for I
TO RICHARD SHACKLETON.
49
am persuaded that [as] my improvement while under
his care gave him pleasure, it will continue to do so
though I am not immediately so at present, and that
this account won't be disagreeable. I'll either choose the
Modern History, or the Spectator and Rollin. What do
you think?
Bosswell has got the fellowship; and since there is
in effect a fellowship vacant, for a living worth £670
per annum in the college gift has lately fallen, so that
your friend Maguire may go in again. This living is
worth the acceptance of a senior fellow, so that I'm
afraid Pelissier will resign.
Jack Bayly t'other day desired me to ask your lowest
price for a couple of boys that he says are intended for
your school. I told him twenty-four pounds a year, two
guineas entrance, and a couple o' pieces of plate; but
he was not satisfied with that, but desired me to desire
you to desire Mr. Shackleton to acquaint me with your
price. The boys' name is Ways, and believe me to be
every way and always your friend,
E. BURKE
Remember my love to Dick, and tell [him] I'll write
to him next post.
VOL. II.-4
50
LETTERS FROM EDMUND BURKE
LETTER XXI.
Balliduffe, August 16th, 1745.
Dear Dick,
<400
I never had the name of a very punctual per-
former of my promises (to my shame I say it), but now
I shall be quite outlawed. "The very next post without
any restrictions" was the word, but I believe I have mist
a good many, and if I may be allowed to make any ex-
cuse, I could tell you in my own defence, that since I
left you I had not time sufficient to write one line.
This may seem a paradox to you, but when I explain
myself I am persuaded you will not only believe what
I say, but pardon me for my seeming forgetfulness.
First, then, I did not come into this country nearly so
soon as I expected, but was delayed by the gentleman
who travelled with us, who was sickly; and after I
arrived, the races of Mallow took up three days of my
time. After this, the assizes of Cork, during which I had
scarce a moment's time on my hands, called me from per-
forming my [promise] to you in due time. But why do
I trouble myself with making trifling excuses, when I
can't even now perform my promise, as it is just now
supper-time, and the boy who is to carry this to the
post is teazing me to give it to him. I therefore send you
this as an excuse, that I may use no preamble to what
I will write next post, without fail.
Yours,
E. BURKE.
TO RICHARD SHACKLETON.
51
LETTER XXII.
Dublin, October 16th, 1745.
The hurry I have been in since I came to town from
Ballitore prevented my performing the promise I made
of writing to you at my arrival, and though I am sensi-
ble that this is not the first excuse of the kind I have
made, yet as it is the most comprehensive one I could.
think of, I hope you will accept of it, and impute it not
to my neglect, &c.
Your letter I delivered to Sisson, with whom I have
not often been since I had the pleasure of seeing you.
He seemed very well inclined to begin a correspondence
with you, and told me that he was thinking to write
before he saw your favour, which he promised to answer
per the next post; so the triumvirate is again complete,
and the place vacant by the departure of our friend
Herbert is filled up by a successor, who, I hope, will
make us some amends for all the good qualities we lost
in our departed friend. Indeed in Herbert we have lost
everything that could make a person agreeable, for be-
sides a sprightly wit of which he was master, he had a
particular evenness of temper which made him appear
constantly the same, and hindered us from those dis-
gusts that a thorough knowledge of those we have a re-
gard for, without it, give us. But we have lost him, and
must endeavour to fill the chasm with new acquaintance,
**
52
LETTERS FROM EDMUND BURKE
new friendships. This is the way of the world, and
valuable a treasure as a friend is, none is so soon forgot-
ten; none, at least in experience, so easily made up for,
ὡς φύλλων γενέη, τοιήδε καὶ ἀνδρῶν.
Sisson continues still a little melancholy, as I told
you; I dare say you'll find a spice of it in his letters.
I am going to excuse myself for leaving off so soon, and
believe me I say the truth when I tell you that down-
right necessity makes me. I conclude hastily, your
friend,
Your last frank did not pass.
LETTER XXIII.
E. BURKE.
November 2nd, 1745.
I am at a very great loss to account for your long
continued silence. I did not think my dear Dick would
so soon forget his friend, in whose company and whose
correspondence he used to express some pleasure in those
happier times. Sickness could not have been the occa-
sion; I should have heard that from my brother; what
then should be the occasion? I believe I have dis-
covered it at length: palled with the long and insipid
converse of a person with all whose inmost thoughts
you are acquainted, the depth of whose notions you
have tried, the fund of whose knowledge you have ex-
hausted, with whom, had you corresponded any longer,
you must have heard nothing but tedious repetitions of
TO RICHARD SHACKLETON.
53
the same threadbare stuff which has exercised your
patience so often before; you have resolved to make
yourself amends by entering into a correspondence with
some one who will have something new to divert you,
something solid to improve you; in whom at once you
may find an agreeable friend and wise instructor. And
I believe you are not deceived in the person you have
pitched on; you have had a part of his character from
me before, and I have not the vanity to suppose myself
any way his equal. Far from condemning your conduct
in this point, I highly applaud it, and am glad you had
resolution enough to shake off a troublesome correspon-
dent, who might have been some obstacle to your con-
verse with a person in whom I am sure you will find all
you have mist in me. As for myself, I have not the
confidence to expect you will often write to me All I
shall desire will be a line once in the twelve months,
perhaps; to let me see that though I am unworthy your
correspondence, that I still retain a place in your friend-
ship. This shall be enough for me, who am still your
friend,
E. BURKE.
LETTER XXIV.
Arran Quay, November 12th, 1745.
Silent, solitary, and pensive, I sit down to answer
your letter, and though I am not so much master of my
temper as to say I shall be quite cheerful, yet I hope.
the remembrance of the many gay though innocent
54
LETTERS FROM EDMUND BURKE
hours passed together which the present occasion recals,
will inspire me with sentiments proper to keep me from
being dull or tedious to you.
I am not at all surprized at what you tell me of
I always thought his character bore a near
resemblance of Tigellius, which Horace so finely and
harmoniously describes in his third Satire. Inconstancy
seems the basis of it; as it gives rise to a great showing
friendship, so is it the cause of their dissolution. In
vain do we complain of ill-offices, neglects, and jea-
lousies; whom we love for novelty, use will make us
hate, and then excuses will easily be found. The very
actions which were at first so very delightful will now
perhaps be the very cause of the misunderstanding. In
vain do we endeavour to keep up such a friendship;
all the endeavours or good sense in our power will only
serve to heighten our dislike. This is the case, I be-
lieve, of your cast-off friends. You are yourself (pardon
the freedom of a friend) a little touched with this foible,
as I have experienced, but is nothing else? What
variety of characters have I known in him when we were
schoolfellows! Tired of being diligent and sober long,
with the least provocation he fell into odd courses, from
which as little indulgence reclaimed him, till he thought
proper again to change. He was, in short,
Every thing by fits, and nothing long,
when he left school, at a time when the little follies
which show themselves there, if not worn out by good
sense, influence our conduct, and frequently much to
TO RICHARD SHACKLETON.
55
our disadvantage. The same inconstancy showed itself
at the university. The letter he wrote your father was
very inconsistent with the accounts you had afterwards
of him. When he had some years applied himself with
a great expense to such studies as qualify a man for a
physician, he suddenly changes his mind and prepares
for the army; and ten to one but he may turn himself
another way yet. Thus far I have, I believe, accounted
for your falling out with your friends. But as I have
said something concerning friendship, and given one of
the causes of it, perhaps I may sometime else say some-
thing more of it, for I have not time now. Pray, if you
have any hints on that, or any other head, let me be
favoured with them in your next. You remember the
preliminaries. Pray let me have a place in your affec-
tions: you never are out of mine.
EDMUND BURKE.
LETTER XXV.
Dublin, December 7th, 1745.
It would have given me the greatest concern to have
been deprived of the pleasure I flattered myself I should
enjoy in your company, were it not allayed by this re-
flection, that I should only see you constantly in the
great grief you gave me a specimen of, and which it is
not in my power to dispel. And, to tell you frankly my
mind, much as I value that happiness, I confess I would
not buy it at so dear a rate. I would much rather not
56
LETTERS FROM EDMUND BURKE
see you at all than with a disturbed mind. I am sur-
prized at the malice of your enemies, which how you
have made I confess I cannot understand. You must
be strangely altered, sure. But there are those who do
mischief for mischief's sake, and are directly the reverse
of those to whose honour it is said, that they love virtue
purely for her beauty: these love malice for its defor-
mity. Nor has this ill-will ended in abusing you to your
face; there are some things reported here not much
to your advantage; did I say-not to your advantage ?
They are really so full of malice and folly, as no one
that has the least acquaintance with you can give any
sort of credit to them. Why may I not be a partaker
of your sorrows? I am sure if
you had
any secrets they
are with none safer. I am very desirous of knowing a
full account of your troubles,-how they began and how
they ended. This will be a satisfaction to me, and per-
haps an ease to yourself. The accounts you gave me in
town were very short and unsatisfactory, and really I
did not believe you would leave us so soon. How did
you rid yourself of your enemies?
How does your
father take all this? I am afraid, but indifferently. I
believe the way you fell into those troubles was by
making too free with such as Pope describes "the
politic and wise":-
Men in their loose unguarded hours they take,
Not that themselves are wise, but others weak.
E. BURKE,
TO RICHARD SHACKLETON.
57
LETTER XXVI.
Dublin, December 28th, 1745-
If to sympathise with you in all your afflictions, and
to bear a friendly part in your sorrows could in any
measure alleviate 'em, I believe I must claim the merit
of being no indifferent comforter; but alas! we every
day feel how little that avails, and how much greater
we will find the number of those that will insult us in
our miseries than those will pity us. I know how ill
qualified I am for a comforter, and how disagreeable and
unnecessary an office it is in itself; therefore I will say
nothing on that head, nor will I send you to books, or
the sayings of philosophers. A mind at ease may im-
prove by them, and Seneca will infinitely please in
speculation; but experience will inform you better than
I, that in time of affliction they are but sorry comforters.
The tide of passion is not to be stopped by such feeble
dams; even the thoughts of reasoning with it adds
new flame to the fires, and gives an additional vexation.
'Tis because most of these books are written in a reason-
ing and expostulatory manner, and sorrow is a passion
and a strong one, and must not immediately be opposed
by a direct contrary, which is reason, the product of a
calm and undisturbed mind. Indulge your grief; I am
sure you have great occasion; the malice of your ene-
mies has set every engine at work to torment you; and
no one can so well see the effects they have worked as
58
LETTERS FROM EDMUND BURKE
ever.
yourself, for you alone have felt 'em. But at the same
time, believe me, their power is not inexhaustible; the
storm has been at the highest, and must soon end; the
time is come, or is at hand, when all will be over, and
your former peace be restored as fully, or more so, than
When small misfortunes afflict us, or when we
receive them with intermission, it is impossible to judge
when they will end; but when they fall upon your
head at once, and that in the strongest manner, and
when there is nothing left to complete your misery,
cheer up your heart, hope the best, for then it will
surely end happily. There was a great man highly
favoured by his prince, and possessed of all that is
usually thought to constitute the happiness of a man;
but as all human affairs are full of instability, his ene-
mies plotted against him, and made him suspected by
the king as one who had bad designs against his person.
By degrees he lost favour, and fell step by step from his
grandeur. At last his enemies prevailed so far as to
have him entirely disgraced, his estate confiscated, and
himself cast into a loathsome dungeon, destitute of food
and raiment other than the prison commons, bread and
water. In this dismal condition he was informed his
death was decreed; and while he lay under sentence,
the keeper took compassion on him, and brought him a
vessel of some food he was very fond of. As it lay by
him while he prepared to eat, a rat ran by and fell into
the victuals, a creature to which he had a violent anti-
pathy. Immediately he wiped his eyes-both before in
tears for his misfortunes-and cast away all sorrow.
TO RICHARD SHACKLETON.
59
Now," says he, "my misfortunes are completed, now
they end!" Next day the king sent for him, convinced
of his innocence, restored him into favour, and punished
his accusers.
،،
→
LETTER XXVII.
Dublin, January 16th, 1746.
Dear Dick,
I am greatly afraid that my prediction has
proved false. Indeed I shall never trust again to any
general observations if it has; since I am taught by
your example, after having given you so much time to
recover, that your troubles shall still torment you. Are
you really still in sorrow? Pray answer; pray keep me
not any longer in this perplexing uncertainty. What
misfortune can be so strong, so lasting, to make such an
impression on you? It may be some consolation to you
to impart them and their causes to a friend who, though
he could not remove, might partake them—
Solamen miseris socios habuisse doloris.
Would you take a sincere advice? Pray indulge your-
self in a little gaiety. I am afraid that by reflecting on
your crosses other melancholy thoughts have come on
you, and these have introduced others, and have thus,
beyond measure, lengthened out your sorrows. The
mind, as the Spectator excellently observes, communi-
cates a tincture of its present disposition to everything it
бо
LETTERS FROM EDMUND BURKE
converses with, as a man in the yellow jaundice fancies
everything is yellow. Thus, when melancholy over-
spreads the mind, we place everything in a disagreeable
view, and indeed to consider and reflect on things, it
needs not that cast to make them appear disagreeable.
Pascal tells us that nothing engages men to apply to
business or diversion, but to drown thought, to hinder
us from sinking into ourselves, and seeing in what an
unhappy and foolish condition we really are. Would
it be amiss to use this remedy to dispel a little of that
gloominess that clouds you, and, secured by a good con-
science, say with the poet,
tristitiam et metus
Tradam protervis in mare Creticum
Portare ventis.
The cure is pleasant, and I am sure unexceptionable.
As I hope the storm is now pretty well o'erblown, I
wish you would in your answer give me a full account
of the rise and progress of your troubles, as there is
no one wishes them a conclusion more than your most
sincere friend,
E. B.
If the News is any amusement to you, you shall have
one every Thursday if the packet comes in.
TO RICHARD SHACKLETON.
61
LETTER XXVIII.
My father's office; Thursday, 31st January, 1746.
Half an hour after 12.
Dear Dick,
I expected to have had the pleasure of a line
or two from you in answer to mine of the great flood,*
but we who live in such a changeable climate must not
be surprised to meet frequent disappointments. Per-
haps the change of the weather has likewise changed.
my friend, who, I hope, is no barometer. Oh! I recant;
I forgot that I am very much to be blamed on that score
myself; but let my friend excuse the little sally of my
passion, which I assure you was grounded on my affec-
tion for you. We have a charming fine day here (I hope
you are blessed with the same) in recompense of all the
bad we were troubled with for some time past, which
did inconceivable damage to those who had any goods
in their cellars. As for us, we have received little or
no damage, for as the water soon invaded us, it as soon
left us.
But it is melancholy to see the poor people of
the other parts of the town emptying their cellars-a
labour not unlike that of some, I don't know who, in
hell; for as fast as they teem out the water, so fast does
it, through some subterraneous channels, return again.
A letter dated the 25th January, 1746, which has been pub-
lished in "Burke's Correspondence," edited by Earl Fitzwilliam.
62
LETTERS FROM EDMUND BURKE
You have doubtless heard of Doctor Taylor, the
famous oculist, who gives lectures on the eye. I have
one of his tickets, and was at his lecture. Would you
have my opinion of him? I think he is an arrant
quack; he is like a posture master in the pulpit whereon
he stands, and I often lamented he had not the cups
and balls; his fingers were so nimble, I believe he
would have done feats. In short, his lecture was more
diverting than improving; yet he has performed some
cures, so that his practice is in my opinion contrary
to his words. I have a ticket to attend Dr. Baylie's
lectures on the Civil Law. Take this in good part;
let it put you in a good humour; and let it, for my
sake, excuse any poor wretches for this whole day.
Yours eternally,
LETTER XXIX.
ED. BURKE.
Dublin, February 15th, 1746.
I received your favour, which I am much concerned
to find in the usual strain. Alas! how are our letters
changed of late, and instead of jests, merriment, and
congratulations, now they are filled with nothing but
the narration of misfortunes and condolements for them.
Not that I am a bit displeased at your manner of writ-
ing; I only lament the cause of it. The style of the
heart, though ever so melancholy, is more agreeable to
me than a forced calmness, which only serves to aggra-
vate your own affliction, and keep me in ignorance of it.
TO RICHARD SHACKLETON.
63
Indulge, then, your sorrows, I beg you, in what you
write to me; but pardon me if I am so curious and
impertinent as not to be satisfied with what you have
already acquainted me. I cannot thoroughly sympa-
thize with you, I cannot make your case my own
till I am informed of its cause; and though the whole
narrative may be too long for the compass of a letter, I
beg you'll abridge it, omitting no material circumstance
in your next. Conceal not the villain's name who is
the cause of your afflictions, that I may always hate
the idea of the wretch who dares betray the secrets of
his friend. Is it
? Is it
? Who is it?
Fear not to write the whole, for no
letters but I. But let us wave this.
one sees your
I
I was told the other day by Rhames that our old
friend Herbert was taken by the French; I was in-
formed since that he was retaken and brought into
Portsmouth. I sometimes see Sisson. I told him that
some misfortunes had befallen you, without mentioning
what they were. He seemed much concerned, and
always speaks of you with the greatest affection.
believe he's good natured; if so, you have a friend more
than you expected. There is no evil, I believe, but
carries some good along with it, and if you make a pro-
per use of the present, though it does no more, it will
give you a little experience, and teach you more caution
and reserve in trusting your acquaintance. We live
in a world where every one is on the catch, and the
only way to be safe is to be silent-silent in any affair
of consequence; and I think it is not a bad rule for
64
LETTERS FROM EDMUND BURKE
every man to keep with him what he thinks of others,
of himself, and of his own affairs. I wish the next
account I hear from you may be a good one. No one
more sincerely wishes it than he whom you may believe
your friend,
E. B.
My love to brother; I hope he's a good boy; my
respects to your father and mother.
LETTER XXX.
Cook's Hill, February 16th, 1746.
Past four; fine evening. Received yours.
Dear Dick,
I was informed you were to come to town,
and I was desired to make diligent inquiry for an usher,
which I have since done, but I cannot find any who
would engage for the wages the master usually gives;
so I have been to wait on Michael Kearney. I gave
him your best respects, and told him you were to come
soon to town; he answered that he would be very glad
to see you, and desired me to return you the same com-
pliments. Come then, my friend, my genius; come
along, let us once more see you; dispel our fears. Let
us have certainty instead of hope. Come, banish the
night, and bring on the day! Oh, my friend, then I
shall be completely happy. Then (swift glide the hours
and bring on the glorious day!) shall we as formerly
discuss together the difficulties of our studies; then-
but oh! how unable am I to express my sentiments to
TO RICHARD SHACKLETON.
65
you on that head, nor if I was, would these babes about
me suffer me; let it be sufficient to say that my dear
Dick is well acquainted, if possible, with the joy such
an event gives me. Let me hear from you on Monday
in the meantime. Forgive this rascally letter, for it is
not possible for me to write a better.
LETTER XXXI.
February 21st, 1746.
Dear Dick,
Your letters gave me abundance of pleasure,
for besides the ordinary one of hearing from you, I had
the additional satisfaction of having a very great un-
easiness removed which your long silence, for which I
could give no reason, caused in me. During that hor-
rid interval you can hardly think how many melancholy
suspicions I had. One while I thought you sick; then
dead; then that the same had befallen my brother.
At last I knew not what to think. But, thank God,
your letter has at last dissipated all these gloomy clouds.
Your poem I think an excellent one, and much better
since the last correction. In short, it shows itself to be
true gold; every time it goes into the fire it comes out
brighter, but not better; it had all the intrinsick value
before; the fire but removes the dross and makes it
display itself. I send it, if I can get a frank, to-night.
As for my own scheme, it is going on bonis ominibus,
but slowly as yet. I seldom write half an hour in ten
days.
VOL. II.-5
66
LETTERS FROM EDMUND BURKE
I shall now give you some news, but not as news, for
I fancy you heard it before. I mean the grand theatri-
cal squabble between Mr. Kelly, gentleman, and Sheri-
dan the player, which has divided the town into two
parties as violent as Whig and Tory; and because the
scholars of our university have engaged themselves on
Sheridan's side, possibly some reports may have been
spread as far as you, to our disadvantage. To prevent
them from having any influence on you, I shall relate
the affair as impartially as I can, and with the utmost
regard to truth. First, then, you must know that some
time ago there was a play performed here which greatly
pleased the town, called "Esop." During the per-
formance Mr. Kelly comes in flushed with liquor, and
going into the green-room where the players dress,
grossly insulted the actresses. This was represented to
Sheridan, who is manager of the theatre, upon which he
ordered Kelly out of the house; who, enraged at this,
goes into the pit, and as soon as Sheridan came on the
stage, pelted him with oranges, &c., and called him a
thousand ill names, bidding him go off the stage, and
quite interrupting the performance. At length Sheridan
advances to the front of the stage, and tells him that
unless some gentleman takes care of him, he would be
obliged to turn him out of the house. Ten times more
enraged at this, he goes after the act to Sheridan's room,
and insults him again. Sheridan represented calmly to
him his abuse of the female players and of himself;
and he, persisting in his ill-language, Sheridan gave
him a good flogging, which he bore with christian pati-
TO RICHARD SHACKLETON.
67
ence. Not, however, without vowing revenge. He per-
fected the next night by bringing such a party as
hindered Sheridan from playing, broke open all the
doors, and would very probably have killed him had
he not escaped. These doings made him shut up the
playhouse and indict Kelly, who also indicted him.
During this time thousands of "States of Cases,"
answers, replies, &c., flew about from both parties, and
a great deal of dispute concerning the word "gentleman,"
for it seems Sheridan had said he was as good a gentle-
man as Kelly; or, as others will have it, as any in the
house. This gained Kelly a great party, who called
their cause the gentleman's quarrel, taking it extremely
ill that a gentleman should be struck by a player, and
insisted that Sheridan should never play till he had
publicly asked Kelly's pardon. The scholars, who had
till now stood neuter, seeing how ill one who had been
of their body was treated, and the town deprived of their
diversion by a private pique, took the affair on them-
selves, and encouraged Sheridan to open the theatre
again, which he did, and acted "Richard the Third,”
where a numerous body of the scholars appeared to keep
the peace. At the beginning the party began to be
riotous, but by menaces they were kept quiet, and one
or two of the principal turned out. Thus the play went
on regularly, to the satisfaction of the audience. Next
night was to be acted "The Fair Penitent," for the bene-
fit of the Hospital of Incurables. The scholars were
persuaded that common humanity, on account of the
charitable design of the play, would keep the faction
5*
68
LETTERS FROM EDMUND BURKE
quiet, so not above seven or eight went there that night.
But they were mistaken; no ties of honour or religion
could bind 'em; they raised another tumult, called for
Sheridan to wreak their vengeance on him, and drove
the actors off the stage. Not content with this, some
of them abused the few scholars that were there, pelted
them with oranges, declared there were no gentlemen
among them, but that they were all a pack of scoundrels.
The scholars being inflamed of this, early next morning
searched the whole town for Mr. Martin, the principal.
offender, and not finding him returned to the College,
when about 10 [o'clock] they were informed where he
lay. At that time I came to the College and joined the
rest. They immediately went for him, and found him in
bed; then made him rise and brought him to the
College, when, after making him sensible of his crime,
he kneeled down in a large circle of us, owned his fault,
and begged pardon. Then we agreed to seize Captain
Fitzgerald, and went to the number of about one hun-
dred, well armed, to Capel-street where he lived, and as
they opened not the door, went in at the window, and
brought out Mr. Fitzgerald, whom they put into a
coach with John Brown, Esq., of the Neale, and two
scholars well armed, and conveyed the coach under a
strong guard of us to the College, where he was obliged
to make a submission. Kelly, then, to avoid ill-usage,
came off himself and did the same. That evening came
a letter from the Lord Justices, desiring in a very polite
manner we should not go out in large bodies, and that
they would look into the affair, and give us due satisfac-
TO RICHARD SHACKLETON.
69
tion. In the meantime, those above-mentioned gentle-
men, notwithstanding their promise of better behaviour,
threatened the lives of the scholars when they met any
of'em alone, and hired ruffians to assault them at night.
The scholars, incensed at this, once more were resolved
to punish 'em; but the Provost, to avoid bloodshed,
ordered that none of the scholars should be suffered
out, and in the meantime sent those whose lives were
threatened to my Lord Chief Justice, who sent a tip-
staff for Martin-so that affair ended. Kelly's and
Sheridan's trial came on a Thursday, in which Sheridan
was honourably acquitted, and Kelly found guilty, and
fined this day £500, a month's close imprisonment,
and to give security for his behaviour for seven years.
So ended that affair, in which justice took place. Fare-
well; your franks don't pass. Yours,
EDMUND BURKE.
LETTER XXXII.
March, 1746.
Young Phæton, as poets tell us,
Fell in with some hot-headed fellows;
Where, boasting Phoebus was his sire,
The board immediate smoke the liar,
Expel him their society,
Until he proves his pedigree.
Stung thus to see his grandeur sunk,
And forced to own his birthright stunk,
Home to his mother goes the squire,
With downcast eyes and all on fire.
7༠
LETTERS FROM EDMUND BURKE
She asks what means that thoughtful brow
Which he had never worn till now;
For study never broke his prime ;
With horse and hound he spent his time.*
I assure you, my dear friend, I find an infinite deal
of difficulty in making verses to supply those of yours.
which must be left out, with any spirit; for where the
subject is not our own, and we are not warmed with the
chain of thought, it is exceedingly hard to make new,
and, as if it were, interlining verses; and I believe you
will find it so when you make lines for those you have
here. I know they are extremely bad, but they shew
you the correction that I think should be made. Don't
scruple altering 'em out of any compliment to me, for
by it you will hurt yourself and disoblige me. But you
must be speedy, and make a last copy, which send by
all means by Sunday's post, for they must appear before
the Pretender grows stale, or they won't do so well.
Let this consideration induce you to pay me no compli-
ment, but make your poem as good as you can, and as
soon; for were we to trifle the time away, we would be
too late. As for the rest of the poem I think it is ex-
tremely good-except this line,
"The car he mounts with glad surprize."
"Glad surprize" seems a little unintelligible. I wish
* These verses are the commencement of some rhymes sub-
mitted by Shackleton to the criticism of Burke, who suggests the
lines printed in Italic in place of others which he thinks inappro-
priate.
TO RICHARD SHACKLETON.
71
you'd mend it, for I protest, after turning it twenty
ways, I can do nothing I liked so well as the original.
The pun of Skye, though a pun and a false one, will
do very well; for the precise place is not requisite, and
because among those I have shewn it to, it has met
many admirers.
Farewell. I expect to hear from you impatiently, for,
the very post after I receive yours, Phæton mounts the
chariot. I am, dear Dick, you affectionate friend,
EDMUND BURKE.
LETTER XXXIII.
March 12th, 1746.
Shall I never hear from you? or are you resolved
that we never shall correspond on equal terms, but one
or other must flag? For no sooner had I repented of my
negligence, and began to make some amends for it by a
long letter, than a tedious and painful silence on your
side ensued. This conduct makes me imagine our cor-
respondence very much resembles a club law, where, as
long as one party runs, the other most swiftly and
courageously pursues; but no sooner do they face about,
and begin a vigorous defence, but the pursuers in their
turn take to their heels, and so on to the end of the
chapter. If it continues as it has hitherto done, I think
I shall always fly, and then I shall have the pleasure
of receiving all your letters without giving you any in-
terruption by mine; for I receive such a pleasure from
your letters as I would from the company of some great
72
LETTERS FROM EDMUND BURKE
man, whom I could always hear without desiring to have
any part of the conversation myself. This, I grant you,
is not like myself, but you know I always distinguish
between a man's talkative and writative character.
Seriously, if you knew how much trouble your silence
gives me, after a long letter from me you would never
disappoint me. When I write but a little to you, then,
as a punishment, you may defer answering me a post
or two; but after a great deal 'tis quite unpardonable
in you. 'Tis, upon my word! Make me proper amends
in a sheet close wrote as this; for, let me tell you, though
you generally send me paper enough, you seldom fill it.
Can
you believe that your letters can ever be too long, or
that I ever can think anything tedious that comes from
you? Say something to me. Let me, if you have any
troubles, lessen 'em by bearing my part; or if anything
is extraordinary agreeable to you, sure you won't be so
ungenerous as to deprive me of so much pleasure as I
shall have in hearing it. Do you study and improve
in learning-it will be a good example to me. Do
you give your mind and time wholly to your boys ?—I
shall rejoice at their happiness, and particularly at my
brother's. Or if you entirely devote yourself to rural
sports, I joy in the stock of health you are laying up.
Tell me everything, so that I may say of you, absens,
presens ut fies, whether thou choose
Cervantes' serious air,
Or laugh and shake in Rabelais' easy chair;
whether you write sonnets to Armida, or lash your ene-
mies with Hudibrasticks. Now I touch on this string;
TO RICHARD SHACKLETON.
73
as a madman, when you happen to hit the cause of his
distraction, can talk of nothing else. Tell me have you
any work in hand, what it is, and how far it has proceeded,
Prepare something to succeed Phaeton, which will come
into the world more opportunely. Brenan has finished
his comedy; when printed, you shall judge of it. I
believe it will soon come on the stage. He has lately
published a thing called Fleckno's Ghost. Another of
my acquaintance, one Dennis, has published a paper on
this occasion also, called "Brutus's Letter to the Town"
-a good thing, I think; and on what occasion wrote
you shall hear soon. Adieu, dear Dick. Remember me.
LETTER XXXIV.
March, 1746.
Dear Dick,
I received both your epistles, which, though
of very different natures, were equally welcome to me,
because one reminded me of my faults (a friendly office),
and the other healed all my rancour by a seasonable
and well-timed praise, for which (to speak the truth) I
very much longed.* 'Tis a great deal for a poet to re-
ceive applause for his work when finished, but to receive
it before is more than he possibly could expect; and,
as unexpected, must be the more agreeable. It gives
him a kind of foretaste of what he is to receive here-
* Here the writer alludes to a letter and poem, Feb. 3, 1746,
printed in Earl Fitzwilliam's collection.
74
LETTERS FROM EDMUND BURKE
after, and inspires him with courage to proceed. It is
(if I may use such a comparison) as when a saint, to en-
courage him under his afflictions, gets a transient view
of heaven. Slight as it is, he sees that all human suf-
ferings are but trivial to attain such an enjoyment, and
he cheerfully finishes his course! I confess you had
good reason to assure me you had not taken a glass
when you wrote your last; for, upon the first reading of
your most sublime and oriental period, I immediately
concluded you intended it as a jest on me, or was the
effects of a certain fluid. From the first opinion you
will scarcely batter me; the whole has something of
burlesque on me; but if I am mistaken, and must
answer seriously what you wrote, let me assure you my
vein (such as it is) will never be esteemed by me so
great an honour or happiness, as that I had so deserving
and so ingenious a friend,—one who can perform so well
himself, and (I know) so well [able] to judge of the per-
formance of others; and my highest ambition [is] that
the world should know it; or if any of my writings can
conduce to that end, or to and I have more at heart,
that is, to please you, they shall never be wanting dum
coeptis adspirat Apollo.
We have early commenced our friendship, and I am
confident will end it late; very late, I hope. All I de-
sire is that we may continue as we are, and that you will
love me while you live as well as you do now, and as I
do you. If so, I am absolutely contented it should be
no greater, for then it would be violent, and you
know how likely to last things violent are; nor think
TO RICHARD SHACKLETON.
75
me the least sincere because I scribble, nor believe what
that rogue Pope says,
Each bad author is as bad a friend.
I continue scribbling that thing, the specimen of
which you say pleases you so much. If so, I have some
hopes, for in my opinion that is far from being the most
shining part of it, and indeed 'twould be sad if the in-
vocation should be the best part of the poem; but such
as it is, when finished, you shall have it.
I am sorry
it is of such a nature that it will by no means admit of
what you desire, and this is what I shall always think
a very great defect in it. I had once a thought of
printing it, but I have entirely dropt all thoughts of
that; for even supposing it good, there are so many
discouragements in this town to a man's turning author,
that 'twould be almost madness to do it. To mention
no more, 'tis ten to one (good or bad, the same) whether
you shall be read by ten in the city. The people here
are the very reverse of the description St. Paul gives of
the Athenians, that their whole business is to hear or
relate something new. They have no sort of curiosity
that way, further than party leads them; and no wonder,
for books either in prose or verse seldom enter the con-
versation of even people of fortune and those who have
leisure enough; so that an author's first cries cannot be
heard, but he is stifled in his birth. And what can be
the cause of this? I'll tell you the only passion which
actuates the people high and low are these too-avarice,
and an abandoned love of sensual pleasures. Wherever
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LETTERS FROM EDMUND BURKE
these entirely take possession, they entirely exclude
everything else great and laudable, and bury them in
a lethargy to whatever pleasures are above their own
sordid level. I wish your poem may fall into better
hands, as it deserves to do, and indeed it has taken its
flight in a happier clime; if so, you need not desire to
be taken notice of by me. You yourself will sufficiently
shew your own merit; or will you have it, as I have
elsewhere expressed it,
As merit which can ne'er be long concealed
By it's own lustre always is revealed.
As to the part of your poem that was criticized I find
no fault in't. You soon shall have Blackball and Lon-
ginus. I wish we could read him together.
Write no
more to Edmund Burke, Esq., but to your humble ser-
vant and friend,
EDMUND BURKE.
Longer letters; as long as this at least.
LETTER XXXV.
May [I don't know what day], 1746.
In the last I received from you, you complain of my
neglecting to continue our correspondence, and I have
now a thousand times more reason to reproach you
with the same fault. I answered your favour, and
apologized for my neglect in the best manner I could
and in as fair a hand. All this I thought was sufficient
TO RICHARD SHACKLETON.
77
to induce you to forgive me, and favour me with your
thoughts as usual; but I see you think me unworthy
your notice. I am sorry for it but, to be serious, I
can't conceive what can be the reason that our corre-
spondence is become so slack of late. If our friendship
was to be judged by it, I believe very few would have
any great opinion of it. I answer for myself, there is
not the least decay of it on my side; absence and time
only rivet my affections more strongly. I could wish
to see things established on their former foundations. I
shall not be backward in performing my part towards
it, if I have done nothing to make you averse to it.
My father has put Dick to school in town; you will
send his trunk and whatever things he had to town;
he tells me Houlden has the key and some of his books.
Desire him to put them into the trunk, and send the
key. I saw this day your aunt and sister for the first
time, though I hear they have been sometime in town.
I hear, too, that the master has been in town, but has
not been so good as to call to see us.
My father is very
angry with him for it. I am very je-ne-sais-quoi-ish to
day-probably staying within all this fine day. If I am
dull or too sententious, attribute it to that. You will
wonder when I tell you I have not left off poetical
scribbling yet. I have done the other day the latter
part of the second Georgick, O fortunatus, &c. into
English. It was always a favourite part with me.
Maybe I'll send you it some other time. This is very
badly wrote; but for love of truth I would have excused
myself by haste, and made my apology accordingly. I
1
I
78
LETTERS FROM EDMUND BURKE
shall, however, mend as I hear from you. But, by-the-
bye, I am in a little haste, as examination for scholar-
ships come on next Thursday. All this is but trifling,
I know. However, as they come from a friend and go
to a friend they are excusable. I am with all sincerity
yours unalterably,
LETTER XXXVI.
E. B.
Dublin, May, 1746.
Dear Dick,
Your long silence gives me the greatest con-
cern, as I can attribute it to but one of these two acci-
dents, either of which would give me a very sensible
affliction, namely, that you are sick or have forgot me.
If the former, I heartily wish for your recovery and for-
give your silence, but methinks you might have em-
ployed some friend to give me an account of it; if the
latter, which I can hardly believe, notwithstanding
appearances, I must acquiesce and trouble you no more.
If it be not so, you will, I hope, satisfy me by writing
the day you receive this third letter from me since I
was favoured with the like from you. There is another
possible case which I have not mentioned, that is, you
might not have got 'em. If so, the contents of the last
were to the best of my knowledge partly the same with
this, and partly to desire you to send my brother's
books, as my father sends him here to school. Let me
TO RICHARD SHACKLETON.
79
know in your answer whether your father would have
a bank note sent him by post in payment of Dick's bill,
or whether he would appoint any one here to receive
the
money, as my father did not see your aunt while in
town.
I answered the examinations for scholarships; whe-
ther I shall get any thing or not, I can't say yet.
Fellowships are over too. Mr. Leland gets one, and I
believe Stokes and Hasting get the other two vacant.
All answered exceedingly well.
Pray answer this; for till we renew our correspond-
ence on its former footing, I have not spirits to write
anything. I am your almost forgotten, though sincere
friend,
E. B.
LETTER XXXVII.
Dublin, June 1st, 1746.
Dear Dick,
I should not have delayed one post to answer
your most agreeable and long expected favour, had not
the scholarship (as I believe the News informed I was
elected) I got taken up my whole attention those few
days past; for what with bargaining for a room in the
College, and doubts whether I should accept the scholar-
ship, and buying another sort of gown, I have had very
little spare time. If I had, you may be sure I should
have dedicated it to our friendship. You may perhaps
be curious to know what advantages we have by a
8c
LETTERS FROM EDMUND BURKE
scholarship. We have our commons for nothing, fifty
shillings a year in the cellar, are members and freemen
of the University, and have a vote for a member of par-
liament; the ground-rent of our chamber; our decre-
ments, between three and four pounds per annum, for-
given; and when we take our degree, have a good
chance of £15 per annum more. The manner of
making and swearing a scholar you may see in the
University Statutes, which you have. We were exa-
mined for two days in all the Roman and Greek authors
of note. Dr. Foster, who examined me [in] Catiline's
speech in Sallust, seemed very well pleased at my
answering, and asked me from whose school I came (a
question I did not hear asked besides), and I told him.
I come now to your question about Dick; and here,
laying my hand to my breast, I declare without circum-
locution, most sincerely, that there was no sort of fault
found with Dick's education, nor could; but, on the
contrary, I heard my father express the greatest satis-
faction at it; and really he could not do otherwise, for
never were boys so carefully and well instructed, so
well both fed and taught as yours. But if I may guess
at the reason of my father's bringing him to town (for
you know I'm not his privy counsellor) it was a desire
of having Dick with him and my mother in town, for
really he is fonder of him than he will own. I'll tell
you a story. T'other day Garrett met Stratford, and
after some discourse says the latter, "By G-d, I-
forget-his-name in Athy is ruining Mr. Shackleton's
school; he's destroying it, by J-s-s, he's taking
*
TO RICHARD SHACKLETON.
81
jef
away all his scholars-why there's Matt Cullen and
every body." Says Garrett, "What can be the reason?
What fault do they find with Mr. Shackleton, to prefer
Mr.
?" "It's true, by the L-d," replies t'other,
“for look ye, d-―n me, he mends Shackleton's faults
he gives abundance of play; this will bring him Shac-
kleton's scholars, by G-d, for we were with him like
galley-slaves, by heavens, book-book-book," &c. &c.,
and a vast deal more of stuff, and all this seriously. From
another it might seem ironical, but a true genuine fool
will always be one, you know. Pray lengthen your
future favours to your friend sincerely,
LETTER XXXVIII.
E. B.
July 25th, 1746 (Caranatta).
Dear Dick,
I am here after a tedious journey, and have,
joined to that, so murdered sleep with dancing these
three nights past that I can hardly hold up my head,
which you will doubtless say I never did. Nothing but
my inviolable regard for you could prevail on me to
write with so bad a pen; and nothing but the great
confidence I place in your candour and forgiving tem-
per could prevail on me to send you the produce. But
so much by way of digression at the beginning, to try
your patience.
Could this tongue, the poor representative of my
generous soul, could this pen even faintly express half
VOL. II.—6
82
LETTERS FROM EDMUND BURKE
what I feel, it would assure you how passionately I have
lamented the bitter absence which tore one soul in two,
and hindered that charming, that transcendantly divine
and transporting pleasure ("transporting," to round the
period) of communicating every thought and movement
of our breasts.
This is the 31st of the month, and I am now at Bally-
duffe. The preceding nonsense I was forced to break
off where you see the writing changes, by my mother's
calling me to go away with her, since which I had not
time to finish it; and really it was a relief to me, for I
was quite stupid and at a loss what to say, though you
gave me a subject; but I was then unequal to it, and
was obliged to write the nonsense it began with, as an
essay in the Cullenian style; for, to tell the truth, I
was capable of nothing else. If you remember, you
proposed me two subjects to write-on what I thought
proper for you to read, and my thoughts on the educa-
tion of boys.
The second I believe I must reserve for
winter, as privilege is almost expiring. You have con-
fined your study to that part of learning they call
humanity, I believe very justly, for it contains the
most essential and most pleasing part of all sciences;
besides the continual pleasure we receive in reading the
authors by the happy turn of expression with which
they are adorned, and as they convey those precepts
which will be of most use to us in common life in the
easiest manner. Your office of a schoolmaster throws
you amongst the ancient authors, who are generally re-
puted the best; but as they are commonly read and
TO RICHARD SHACKLETON.
83
taught, the only use that seems to be made of 'em is
barely to learn the language they are written in—a very
strange [application] of the use of that kind of learning
—to read of things to understand words, instead of
teaching words that we may be the better enabled to
profit by the excellent things which are wrapt up in
'em. I would therefore advise you to be less inquisitive
about the grammatical part of the authors than you
have been, not only for the above mentioned reason, but
because you will find it much the easier way of attain-
ing the language. And you will be pleased to consider.
after what manner we learn our mother tongue. We
first by conversation (to which reading, when the lan-
guage is dead, is equivalent) come to know the signifi-
cation of all words, and the manner of placing 'em.
Afterwards we may, if we will, know the rules and laws
by which they are to be placed so and so; which will
then be quite easy to us, as they are only the laws of
words reduced to writing. Poetry and history are the
chief branches which are taught. I would have you
read less of one and more of the other, if you have a
mind to have your Latin pure, and not like me, who,
when I attempt to write prose Latin, 'tis prose on stilts,
or poetry fallen lame. In Latin, I would have you read
Virgil's Georgics, Juvenal's Satires, a comedy or two
of Terence; in prose, Sallust, Cicero's Orations for
Archias the poet, for M. Marcellus, for Pompey, for
Milo, and the first Phillippics; in Greek, the first six
books of Homer, the embassy to Achilles, and that part
from the death of Hector to the end of the poem; what
6*
84
LETTERS FROM EDMUND BURKE
I showed you of Lucian, Tabula Cebetis, and Xenophon,
You should read with abundance of care (I don't mean
as to the grammatical part) the Georgics, Sallust's Cata-
line, and Tabula Cebetis. I have been very tedious in
saying very little; but you must forgive a defect I can-
not mend. I think often of our dispute about murder-
ing sleep, and as I have since read that excellent play
of my favourite Shakespeare, I am rather more in love
with the passage. Observe with what horror it 's at-
tended. Macbeth, immediately after murdering his
royal guest and all his attendants, and describing the
stings of conscience that afflicted him during that hor-
rid work, speaks thus to his wife :-
Methought I heard a voice cry, "Sleep no more!
Macbeth doth murther sleep, the innocent sleep;
Sleep that knits up the ravelled sleave of care.
The death of each day's life, sore labour's bath,
Balm of hurt minds, great nature's second course,
Chief nourisher in life's feast.".
Still it cried, "Sleep no more!" to all the house:
"Glamis hath murdered sleep; and therefore Cawdor
Shall sleep no more, Macbeth shall sleep no more!"
I was not in Cork; so you may judge I had not the
pleasure of seeing my friend Sisson. Farewell! the
rest to my brother,
-
E. B.
Dear brother,
We arrived in this country after a tedious
journey of six days in the worst weather in the world;
but I have the satisfaction to acquaint you that my
"TO RICHARD SHACKLETON.
85
mother is greatly recovered. She rides out every day,
and will, I hope, soon be perfectly well, as are all your
friends here, who enquired very kindly for you. I have
a piece of news for you. Your sister, Miss Polly Hen-
nessy, has been married this fortnight to a gentleman of
Cork. I have not yet seen that family. My mother
desires her blessing to you, and all your friends here
their compliments. I am your affectionate brother,
EDMUND BURKE.
LETTER XXXIX.
August 19th, 1746.
Dear Dick,
I confess our correspondence has of late been
a little upon the stand, and I as freely own through my
fault, for it can't be denied that you wrote last. I beg,
however, that we may renew it with as much alacrity
as before, for I am now pretty well got over an indo-
lence which has of late possessed me to that degree
that I have been lost to myself and to all my friends.
A bad excuse I know this; but I had far rather you
should think me lazy than ill-natured. I shall say no
more on this head now, because I know too minute an
enquiry into it will be but little to my credit; only,
like a good child—I shall do so no more.
Believe me, my dear Dick, I could not think my time
spent so agreeably and profitably as in your company ;
but there are so many invincible obstacles in my way,
86
LETTERS FROM EDMUND BURKE
that I cannot think of it, at least yet awhile. I am
now just after examination, and in less than a month
others far greater are to succeed than ever I had. My
time is very short, and my business very great; yet,
notwithstanding, I would be very willing to forfeit
whatever profit might accrue from them for the sake
of spending a week or two with you, did not some
disgrace and some anger, perhaps, from a certain quar-
ter, attend it.
Your father's watch shall be sent by Dick, who will
be with you in a few days. He desires to be remem-
bered to you. Greek is a plant that thrives as ill in
Dublin as Munster, and the soil is as unpropitious to
Latin. I hope by this time you have pretty well got
over your troubles; as for me, I am in statu quo.
I spend most of my idle time with Sisson; he has a
great regard for you, and I assure you I like him as
well, if not better, than ever, notwithstanding some
appearances, which a thinking man should never judge
from. I have the pleasure, too, to inform you that he
has of late no despicable share of business; he has now
in hands, and finished almost, the Speaker and his
family, the Lord and Lady Skerries, &c. I think it a
pity that so good a painter has not better encourage-
ment. Your last was very laconick; I hope this shall
have as much honour as the famous queen (I forget
whom) in making you lengthen your sentences. Believe
me to be yours,
EDMUND BURKE.
TO RICHARD SHACKLETON
87
LETTER XL.
Dublin, Tenth-month [October] 5th, 1746.
The fate of mankind, and mine in particular, is so
uncertain, that I can hardly depend upon anything.
I flattered myself, nay, I was certain that I should
have the pleasure of spending this Christmas with you,
which hope was grounded on an assertion of my father's
that I should not live in the College; but he since
changed his mind, and as the foundation begins to fail,
we must suppose the superstructure will tumble of
course; so that I am under some difficulties on that
head. If I come at all, I may stay three weeks. Bren-
nan will be so far from hindering it that he may stay
as long as he pleases, but I cannot. I believe
I believe you will
not have many books from me, if you limit them to
what new ones come out that I approve. Believe me,
dear Dick, we are just on the verge of darkness and one
push drives us in. We shall all live, if we live long, to
see the prophecy of the Dunciad fulfilled, and the age
of ignorance come round once more,
Redeunt Saturnia regna,
Magnus ab integro sæclorum nascitur ordo.
Is there no one to relieve the world from the curse
of obscurity? No, not one! I would therefore advise
more to your reading the writings of those who have
gone before us than our contemporaries. I read for my
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LETTERS FROM EDMUND BURKE
College course Tully's Offices, a blameless piece. I got
yesterday Waller, whom I never read before, nor did
you, I believe; for it would be needless to tell you, if
you had, that he is one of the most charming poets of
England. 'Tis surprizing how so much softness and so
much grandeur could dwell in one soul; his panegy-
ricks are wonderfully fine. His chief excellence lies, I
think, in making apparent defects of persons become
their greatest praise, and that in a manner quite new.
All his thoughts by the surprize they give us seem to
have something epigrammatical in them, and in many
places he is guilty in that respect; but that proceeds
from their being expressed in the strongest and most
concise manner, and so formed that his thoughts are
not interwoven so as to form a continued discourse, but
each is by itself, and strikes you full alone. Take for
an example those lines on the King's navy. What
shall I say now? As I put my hand to my pocket to
look for the book, I found I left it at home (for I am
now at the office), but I will make it up in my next.
This has struck me so blank that I can say no more
than that I am, dear Skackleton, yours affectionately,
E. B.
I can't forbear laughing when I think how you will
be baulked when you come to the quotation-how you'll
put your mouth in form, and begin in a lofty theatrical
tone to read, "What shall I say?”
C
TO RICHARD SHACKLETON.
89
LETTER XLI.
Dublin, December 11th, 1746.
Dear Dick,
Bawn was with me just now. I shall take
care to obey your commands by him. Your man dis-
appointed me the last time he was in town, for I had
not your letter till near nine at night. I had the black-
balls ready for him at two next day; but he was gone.
You won't be displeased that I laid out some of your
money on the books you have per bearer. I found 'em
as I thought sold cheap at an auction, and as I thought
they might be useful to you I bought 'em. Voiture's
character is, I believe, known to you for one of the
finest geniuses France ever produced, and a pattern for
that way of writing; price is. 7d. The other I bought
on the credit of the great man of whom it treats, price
5s. 6d.
I have seen your dear friend Cullen at the coffee-
house pretty often. I knew him perfectly, but [have] not
as yet condescended to speak to him; he is grown a great
count. I shall let you know the day I shall meet you,
which will be I fancy sometime before the holidays.
My father will go your way in about a week-next
Thursday or Friday, I think. In my first letter I did
not give you the quotations from Waller. Hear them
now, and think whether I was right—part of the poem
"To the King on his Navy :"-
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LETTERS FROM EDMUND BURKE
Should nature's self invade the world again,
And o'er the centre spread the liquid main,
Thy power were safe, and her destructive hand
Would but enlarge the bounds of thy command.
Thy dreadful fleet would style thee lord of all,
And ride in triumph round the drown'd ball.
Those towers of oak o'er fertile plains might go,
And visit mountains where they once did grow.
The world's Restorer never could endure
That finished Babel should those men secure,
Whose pride designed that fabric to have stood
Above the reach of any second flood.
To thee, his chosen, more indulgent, He
Dares trust such power with so much piety.
In his panegyrick on Cromwell, preferring [him] to
Alexander :-
P
He safely might old troops to battle lead
Against the unwarlike Persian or the Mede,
Whose hasty flight did from a bloodless field
More spoils than honour to the victor yield.
A race unconquered, by their clime made bold,
The Caledonians arm'd with want and cold,
Have by a fate indulgent to your fame
Been through all ages kept for you to tame.
I am greatly obliged for the spy glasses. 'Tis unreason-
able you should always be giving and I never returning
any thing. Vale, amice lector. Thine in the Lord,
WILL SHINE.
TO RICHARD SHACKLETON.
91
((
LETTER XLII.
Dublin, December 27th, 1746; almost '47.
The prospect I have, dear Dick, of seeing you so soon
keeps me from being able to write you much. Were I
to tell you after this manner my opinion on the points
you proposed, it would be quite unsatisfactory both to
you and myself; for while I should be writing, my
thoughts would be entirely taken up with the pleasure
of your approaching presence, and I should cry out,
"What the devil do I write, and puzzle me to express
myself wretchedly on what I shall have my friend so
soon to help me out, and mature my imperfect and
"abortive conceptions?" So I shall now only tell you
that I shall set out early on Monday morning (God
willing) towards you. I shall be glad to meet you that
day either at Kill or Kilcullen; by no means at Naas.
Till then, God be wi' you. I heartily long to see you;
if you have an equal desire, we shall meet half way, for
you know the power of equal forces meeting in the
same direction. Brennan cannot come.
Once more
farewell. Yours assuredly,
(6
R. S.'s E. B.
92
LETTERS FROM EDMUND BURKE
LETTER
XLIII.
Dublin, January 24th, 1747.
Dear Dick,
The silence I have kept so long has been as
painful to myself as it could possibly have been to you,
and the cause of it was almost as troublesome as the
thing itself, for the short time I had to read hurried me
so much as to deprive me of the common consola-
tion of all the unfortunate-to think over my old plea-
sures and lament their loss. The utmost I could do was
to steal a sigh now and then from, and immediately
return unto
So you see I paid the best tribute of sighs I could to
your memory, for
A sigh the absent claim, the dead a tear.
me;
If you think that not sufficient, blame my fate, not
for at that time, were I to chuse, I had rather have
sat lamenting myself, and composing sad ditties "all
the day long." However, I have succeeded far beyond
my expectations, not to say well. The good success I
have had from my small reading gives me hope that if
I do it more diligently for the future, I shall have still
more success. The few acquaintances I have here and
your absence dispose me very strongly to study and
throw aside my old laziness; not that I make any merit
of this, for had I my old inducements and you in town
TO RICHARD SHACKLETON.
93
I doubt not but all my fine resolutions would fall to the
ground; for 'tis I fear with me as (to use a very thread-
bare comparison, for I find no better at present) with
those who quit the world not from devotion, but be-
cause they can no longer enjoy its pleasures. I wish
sincerely that it may be always the reverse with you;
that you may never want all the pleasures it is able to
give, and at the same time that your desire for sharing
may be as great as ever, and, what is more than all that,
you may know properly how to value each.
I have not had time yet to correct the flights and
prune the wing of your Phaeton; what I think now
should be done is to soften the burlesque at the begin-
ning, and changing it so as to come near the grave
severe satire, for by that means it will be like the rest
which is in that way; for of that burlesque there are not
seven lines in the whole, and these at the very begin-
ning. I really think a poem should be all of a piece;
though yours, I must confess, is like the subject, for he
kept not the middle path, but came so low as to endan-
ger burning the earth, and then all at once rose up into
the heavens again. You will find the truth of this by
comparing,
and
The trembling boy with dire amaze
Sees all the world around him blaze,
He wipes his eyes and blows his nose.
I showed it to Brennan and many others, who all
greatly liked, and found the same fault with it. I will
94
LETTERS FROM EDMUND BURKE
send it to London when I can get an English frank,
for they don't take 'em in here. I could not get e'er a
secondhand Longinus, but rather than you should
want it, I bought a new one-2s. 2d. 'Tis, I think, a
very good translation and has no bad notes. There are
no Davidson's Metamorphoses.* Exshaw will soon have
home your books. I wish you all happiness, and am,
dear Dick, your affectionate friend,
EDMUND BURKE.
LETTER XLIV.
London, 20th February, 1750.
Dear friend,
It is so long since we have had any correspond-
ence, that I really forget whether I am indebted to
you for a letter, or you to me. Perhaps I am in the
fault; if I be, I can say with a great deal of truth that
it did not proceed from my having in the least forgot
you, or the obligations I have to you (if any such thing
ought to be named among friends); or, if you have
omitted to write in your turn, I give you with all my
heart the forgiveness I should myself expect in the
same case. I shall, however, be always willing to attri-
bute your silence to anything rather than to incon-
* Davidson having translated Virgil into English prose, Shac-
kleton probably asked his correspondent to procure for him Ovid's
Metamorphoses by the same translator.
TO RICHARD SHACKLETON.
95
stancy, and while there are so many thousand things
that may cause such an omission, I shall chuse any
rather than that which would wrong you and make
myself uneasy; for my part, I am in my writing in
the same case that I am in my conversation. If I am
in company with a silent person, I repay his silence
fourfold; but if, on the contrary, I happen with a man
who talks, he incites me to do so too. I could wish
with all my heart to hear oftener from you, nor can
[you] want of matter while you have affairs of your own.
To make me by letter (as you were so good formerly to
do by discourse) acquainted with them would be very
agreeable to me, as a confidence would show that your
good opinion of me still continues the same. I wish
that nothing worse than want of somewhat to say-
that want of health is not the cause of your silence. I
hope my fears are without foundation, but I must beg
leave to observe that your great application to business
both in and out of school, as well as your so close
reading at night, may impair both your health and
eyesight, neither of the best. I therefore pray you as
a friend, and as one that has an interest in your life
and welfare, to indulge yourself more in [a] little
amusement and cheerfulness, if you have a mind your
life should last; or whilst it lasts, be easy. I have
had some trouble for a good while, on account of the
almost general illness of our family, of which I suppose
I
you may have heard, as well as of their recovery.
had a letter, after a long intermission of writing, from
Dennis: I believe him to be the same worthy man 1
95
LETTERS FROM EDMUND BURKE
always thought him. He tells me that he spent some
days lately at your house, and seems very sensible of
your friendship and civility to him. Thus far I wrote
before dinner, and I am now prevented from writing
more by a gentleman's coming in upon me. I have
only to desire you to remember me very kindly to your
spouse, to your father, and all the good family there,
and still think you have a very sincere friend in
EDMUND BURKE.
A bill was brought into the House of Lords yester-
day by the Earl of Chesterfield for altering the style.
'Tis thought it will pass.
LETTER XLV.
[London,] 5th April, 1751.
Dear friend,
I received your letter with more pleasure than
you may think from my having delayed so long to
answer it; but the true cause of my waiting was that
I might have the satisfaction of seeing your uncle and
cousins, and by that means make my letter more wel-
come to you, by some account of them; but I failed in
my design, for I could hear nothing of your uncle at
the East India House, whither I went according to
your directions. About O'Neill's affair, I must advise
that gentleman not to appear so solicitous about his
brother's health, lest he (as all men are not of the most
unsuspecting nature) should think he has a greater love
TO RICHARD SHACKLETON.
97
for his effects than for their owner, nor to promise to
persons here half of them to recover the whole for him ;
for he is too good a scholar not to remember the case of
the huntsman that sold the bearskin before he had
killed the bear. I no sooner enquired concerning a
chaplain at Bencoolin, than the person I asked (judge
you whether he was a conjurer) informed me about
what business I came; and that some others had been
there on the same errand; observing that this gentle-
man seemed to long for his brother's death, at the same
time telling me for his comfort that nothing but a con-
stitution of steel could keep the body and soul together
in that climate; however, that the chaplain had a pretty
good one, was a sober man, and had lived with pretty
tolerable health in the Hundreds of Essex. Our friend
is a divine, and may take the good and bad of this
account together. When they heard last from Bencoo-
lin, he was well, and [they say] that about next August
they shall have a further account.
I am much obliged to you, my good friend, for your
desire of knowing my affairs; really they are such as
nothing but friendship could have any delight in hear-
ing. My health is tolerable, thank God; my studies,
too, in the same degree, and my situation not disagree-
able. I intend soon to go to a good distance from
town, in hopes of bettering all three, as well as lessen-
ing my expenses. If you are desirous of knowing any-
thing more particularly, let me know, and you may be
assured I shall take pleasure in satisfying you.
I am glad your family continue in good health. You
VOL. IL-7
98
LETTERS FROM EDMUND BURKE
will in return for her kindness give my best respects to
your spouse; the same to your father and all friends as
though I had named them. I saw Kennedy at a coffee-
house a few days since; he has been at the East Indies
-in what station I cannot tell, and intends for the
same quarter again; he is much improved both [in] his
appearance and behaviour since I saw him at Ballitore.
Farewell, dear Shackleton, and believe me with great
sincerity yours,
EDMUND BURKE.
LETTER XLVII.
Dublin, March 29th, 1764.
My dear Shackleton,
Though I have been long silent, I don't think
it necessary to say a great a deal now, as I hope to be
with you in a few hours after you receive this. I could
hardly flatter myself some time ago that it would be in
my power to spend a day or two with you, and it is not
easy to say how much pleasure I have in the idea that
I
may now meet Dick in our old head-quarters and talk
over old times. Mrs. Burke is of the same sentiments
with me, and is to accompany me. Adieu. Give our
love to Mrs. Shackleton, and believe me, dear Shac-
kleton, affectionately yours,
E. BURKE.
TO RICHARD SHACKLETON.
99
LETTER XLVIII.
Ballitore, 19th October, 1766.
My dear Shackleton,
I am sorry to be obliged to correspond with
you from your own house. But we cannot help it;
had we been able to fix a time for being here, this very
mortifying accident would not have happened; how-
ever, it was not in my power. This day we proposed
having the happiness to spend with you, and came
tolerably early. But another day is absolutely out of
our disposal, as we have already outstayed our time very
considerably. Since it is so determined that I must go
to England without seeing you, to my no small vexation,
let me at least have the pleasure of hearing from you
whilst I stay in Dublin, which will be but whilst I
wait for a ship. My horse (not mine, indeed, but bor-
rowed from a friend) has fallen ill upon the road. I
must, and I think I freely may, commit him to your
care until I can send for him. Adieu! my dearest
Shackleton. Think how vexatious this accident is to
us; but do not add to it by yours or Mrs. Shackleton's
vexation. We are all most truly and ever affectionately
yours,
E. B.
Sunday From some wild chat of Brockleby's with
Will Burke I am given to understand that you
had re-
7*
100
LETTERS FROM EDMUND BURKE
ceived at some time a letter from England some way
relating to me. Have you ever received such a letter !
Now I must say one word as conclusion, which must be
peremptory. You desired that Sisson should not come
hither to meet us. I did not appoint him, not because
you desired it, but because I could not fix the time;
but I must insist upon it as a favour, which I would be
very uneasy to be refused, that he may come hither and
finish that deed without a name which he has begun.*
It neither is nor can be wrong; nay, it must be right in
itself, and as it is at best but decorum to avoid it, sacri-
fice decorum to friendship. I am sure it is the lesser to
the greater virtue. Adieu!
LETTER XLIX.
October 28th, 1766.
My dear friend,
I am sorry that you should think me capable
of being offended with any letter which you could think
proper to write about me. That which you did write,
replete with the feelings of the most sincere friendship,
and a partiality which arose from them, can displease
me in nothing but in setting me up so high as to make
* This alludes to a portrait of Richard Shackleton (now at
Ballitore in the possession of his grandson, George Shackleton)
which Sisson painted for Edmund Burke. At the time at
which this letter was written, and indeed until very recently,
strict members of the Society of Friends objected to have their
portraits taken.
TO RICHARD SHACKLETON.
IOI
it very difficult for me to give it any sort of credit by
my conduct. However, I am glad to find you think of
me in such a manner, and for this piece of knowledge,
at least, I am indebted to the malice of my enemies.
Their purpose was, since they were not able to find
wherewithal to except to my character for the series of
years since I appeared in England, to pursue me into
the closest recesses of my life, and to hunt even to my
cradle in hope of finding some blot against me.
It was
on this principle they set on foot this enquiry. I have
traced it as far as Mr. Strettel, who refuses to let me
know from whom in England he received his commis-
sion. The want of suspicion of their ill designs, and
want of an exact knowledge of what affects a man in
the world, made you enter into a more minute detail
about my father, mother, and wife than was strictly
necessary, or than I believe those who wrote to make
the enquiry expected, or could flatter themselves they
would receive; especially in the affair of religion, which
being a leading part in your account, though not in the
general thoughts of men of public business, they will
therefore think could not have taken up so much room
but for special reasons, and these they will take to con-
strue into such as are not the most favourable. I think,
too, that your manner of stating the condition of my
father is, by the mode of expression, made to convey,
to the ears in which it will sound, impressions different
from [what] you intended and from the reality. You
say he was an attorney of the province of Munster, in
moderate circumstances; and this (from the evident
102
LETTERS FROM EDMUND BURKE
partiality which reigns in the whole account, and which
seems to soften every thing) will be saying he was a
hedge-country-attorney of little practice. Now you
know that the upper part of this profession is very re-
putable as any can be; the lower absolutely otherwise.
The fact is that my father never did practise in the
country, but always in the superior courts; that he was
for many years not only in the first rank, but the very
first man of his profession in point of practice and
credit-until, by giving way to a retired and splenetic
humour, he did in a manner voluntarily contract his
practice; and yet, after some heavy losses by the banks,
and living creditably for near forty years (one time pretty
expensively), laying out something on Dick's establish-
ment and on my education in the Temple (a thousand
pounds or thereabouts for me), he died worth very
near six thousand pounds. This I mention, as poverty
is the greatest imputation (very unjustly, I think) that
is ever laid on that profession; one or two other mis-
takes of fact there are of little consequence. But, in
general, the rule is certainly right, when enquiries of
this kind are made, to confine oneself to the person as
much as may be, on every account; for, as accounts of
connections are multiplied, so are occasions of cavil too,
on the part of the hearer, and of mistakes on that of
the relater.
I have read over what I wrote, and am surprised to find
how long I have talked on this nothing, but I am alone,
which I seldom am, and my pen runs on. Be assured,
whatever little mistakes there may be, it evidently can do
C
TO RICHARD SHACKLETON.
103
me no kind of prejudice whatever. Strong declarations
of esteem from an early friend who knows you entirely
are the fullest presumption in your favour. The rest is
one's own conduct, on which nine-tenths of every thing
depends. Be assured, my dear Richard, the account on
the whole will much disappoint the enquirers. The
only anxiety I have is to discover those enquirers, that
I may not in my mind lay the charge on those who
may possibly be innocent of it. So much for that;
but, returning on my steps, I again and again caution
you not to give yourself a moment's uneasiness for a
most trifling inadvertence which came up amidst the
effusions of affection, and which nothing but great
affection could have caused. Let me add, too, that no
piece of writing can be more spirited and elegant.
I propose going immediately. We are all, Jenny,
Dick, and I, most sincerely and with the truest regards
yours. Salute your wife for us, whom we value on her
own account as well as yours. Your father, I hope,
believes we love him, with a great mixture of reverence
to his truly venerable character. Adieu! God Almighty
bless you! Yours ever,
E. BURKE.
After all, on talking this matter over with Dick, I
am far from clear that the enquiry may not have been
from a friend.
104
LETTERS FROM EDMUND BURKE
LETTER L.
RICHARD SHACKLETON TO EDMUND BURKE.
Ballitore, 16th of 3rd Month, 1769.
My dear Ned,
I have been extremely deficient in not sup-
porting a correspondence which gives me so high a
pleasure; I will not say-for that would be too like the
insincere world-does me so much honour. Since I re-
ceived thy very obliging letter I have been almost
daily thinking of writing, but I wanted to put this and
then that disagreeable thing out of the way, that I
might be free for the conversation of my friend. But
I find I may as well put my employment out of the
way and give the boys a perpetual holiday, like my
brother at Naas, as be free from perplexity while I am
a schoolmaster. The weight of the charge requires
such a solidity of patient firmness to support it, and the
minutiæ appertaining to it such a divisibility of atten-
tion, that it's hard to say whether he may be more pro-
perly called more than man or less than man that can
be equal to the burden, or stoop to the drudgery of it.
This picture of myself, which I may well draw with
tolerable likeness, for I have long sat for it, will, I
flatter me, bring my situation to thy recollection and
procure my pardon.
I am much obliged by thy compliance with my re-
TO RICHARD SHACKLETON.
105
quest to promote Counsellor Dunkin's subscription. I
find the ready way for me to hear from thee is to ask a
favour from thee. have since heard no more about
that affair, only thanks from the parties for my applica-
tion to thee. I am glad of thy casting root in Old
England. Were I to travel near Beaconsfield, I would
be very apt to give thee a call, and diversify some grand
company (possibly) assembled there with my uncouth
figure. Their good breeding would doubtless prevent
their staring, though not their wondering at such an
appearance there; but should any one, proud of a title
or any thing else, ask me who I was, I, proud of my
own title, would tell him that I was the friend of Ned
Burke.
The declaiming about the badness of the times is in
my opinion as useless as trite. I have not read nor
conversed enough to know whether these times be bet-
ter or worse than the past. Every age has its own
colour and complexion, and the present, I hope, not the
worst. But as these countries in their turn have come
to be more civilized than formerly, and the lights of
reason and religion are still rising higher and higher, so
less allowance should be given for folly and vice. In
the uncertain twilight there may be a deception; but
he is blind or drunk that stumbles at noon day. I
don't think I am very splenetic, and yet I confess I
am not quite pleased with what little comes to my know-
ledge of my country and rulers. I am afraid some of
them are blind, and others drunk. Now though these
are objects of pity and ridicule more than fear when we
106
LETTERS FROM EDMUND BURKE
have no connection with them, yet we are in a deplor-
able and very dangerous situation if we must, whether
we will or no, be led or drove by them. The blind we
must leave to Providence to work a miracle upon;
but
for the people that are intoxicated with self-conceit and
with an exalted station, to which fortune, not merit,
has raised them, I would willingly have the danger
brought home to themselves. Nothing so effectually
makes them sober. One thing in particular I have
often thought of late is much wanting, and the medley
of government will never be right without it; put in
whatever other ingredients ye can, and still there will
be death in the pot, the mess will not be wholesome
food for the people, till a disinterested love of our country
be infused. Call me, as very probably thou thinkest
me, an enthusiast, if thou pleasest; but suffer me to
say that till there be a stronger mixture of this virtue
in public counsels and conduct, they are not likely to
be blest with the approbation of heaven, whose over-
ruling and mediation alone can guide them to a pros-
perous issue. Self-interest is too generally the begin-
ning and end, the author and the finisher, the first
spring and ultimate aim in church and state. Nay, it
is now become so general that it is a garb publicly
worn, and the man would be laughed at that would
venture to be out of the fashion. In my opinion, how-
ever, one little spark of true genuine disinterested virtue
will do more good in diffusing light and heat around,
and burning up the rubbish of ignorance and corrup-
tion, than a thousand of those pitiful fires that are
TO RICHARD SHACKLETON.
107
smothered up with the filth and the ashes of sordid
gain—ignes supposites cineri dolosi. I wish for thee, my
dear friend, to be one of those lights shining in a dark
place. I crave it for thee in my solemn petitions, and
I trust I am heard and answered. God Almighty
incline thine heart to seek after that wisdom by which
"princes rule, and nobles, even all the judges of the
earth," that this heaven-born gift may extend and
exalt thy faculties, and influence thee to act so as to
answer the just witness in the consciences of all men,
both friends and enemies! Nothing but an unbiassed,
single view to the honour of God, and a noble disinter-
ested love to mankind will, through all the changes of
men and measures, and all the capricious turns of favour,
draw down the sanction of the divine blessing on thy
endeavours for the public good, ensure to thee that
present and future heartfelt joy which results from a
conscious sense of an honest discharge of duty, and
transmit thy name and example in sweet memorial to
posterity. This probably is not the proper style of a
letter. Be it so-it is the language of my heart, and if
this beats higher than the proper tone, 'tis the pulse of
friendship, and a friend will pardon.
As to family affairs, no material alteration has taken
place since my last. My father cultivates the land at
home, when he is not cultivating the minds of the people
abroad by the excellent precepts which he is qualified
to give, enforced by that sanctity of manners and un-
sullied reputation which give weight and authority to
good counsel and adorn a long and well-spent life.
108
LETTERS FROM EDMUND BURKE
Hobbs has buried his wife, let his house, and is come to
live [as a] servant with me, his old panegyrist. I had
lost a good deal of my esteem for Hobbs after I grew
farther in years and experience. While he was very
poor I observed him very idle and drunken, so that I
was afraid to take him into my family; but now that
the fellow has plenty of meat and drink every day, he
seems very temperate and diligent, and is of great ser-
vice to me. He has a profit rent coming in from his
tenement and good wages from me; so that his virtue
and his happiness have returned together. In short,
let them all say what they will against riches, for my
part I think poverty is almost if not quite as bad.
The rich man is luxurious, indolent, forgetful of his
almighty Benefactor, and has many sins of omission to
account for; but the poor man is hopeless and spiritless
as well as penniless; he cannot be worse off than he
is. Necessity drives him; the devil himself drives on
necessity; the man has lost his hold of principle; he
grows desperate; all the vices of corrupt nature crowd
in, and complete the ruin of soul and body. Like the
snake that in the drought of summer, perishing for
want of sustenance, is bloated with tenfold poison,
Sævit agris, asperque siti, atque exterribus æstu.
Well, therefore, does it become a wise legislator to
adopt plans which may tend to make people rich, that
it may make them virtuous. But if in any age or
country there should be legislators who study only to
enrich and aggrandize themselves, and care not what
TO RICHARD SHACKLETON.
109
becomes of the property and the morals of the people
whom they represent, from such libera nos, Domine!
for they are the scandal of the age, and the ruin of the
country that they live in.
Will the length of this rhapsody, my dear friend,
make some atonement for the length of my unjustifiable
silence, and wilt thou favour me with a home-spun line,
when bustle and business and distraction are asleep,
and Ned Burke can step forth collected in himself to
converse in native familiarity with his old friend?
Dick owes me the visit of a letter still. I wish him all
happiness and less laziness. My hearty respects to thy
spouse. Quid puer Ascanius? How does young Richard
go on? My son is grown a brave lusty boy. My wife
loves thee with sincere respect, and has given me many
a scold for not writing sooner to thee. Her best regards
to thee and thine. Accept my father's warm wishes,
and believe me thy truly affectionate friend,
RICHARD SHACKLETON.
LETTER LI.
Gregories, April 19th, 1770.
My dear Shackleton,
You will be so good to excuse me for having
so long delayed an answer to your letter. If I could
have served your friend I would have done it. But
nothing could have been more improper than any appli-
cation, on the footing of friendship, to Lord Rocking-
IIO
LETTERS FROM EDMUND BURKE
ham, in what relates to the disposal of his private
fortune; or to ask that, as any kind of favour, which
ought to be left to the principles of common dealing.
Believe me, my friend, that this, and no want of an
earnest desire of doing what might be acceptable to
you, prevented the application you desired.
I confess a little weakness to you. I feel somewhat
mortified at a paper written by you, which some offi-
cious person has thought proper to insert in the London
Evening Post of last night.* I am used to the most
gross and virulent abuse daily repeated in the papers—
I ought indeed rather have said twice a day. But that
abuse is loose and general invective.
It affects very
little either my own feelings or the opinions of others,
because it is thrown out by those that are known to be
hired to that office by my enemies. But this appears
in the garb of professed apology and panegyric. It is
evidently written by an intimate friend. It is full of
anecdotes and particulars of my life. It therefore cuts
deep. I am sure I have nothing in my family, my cir-
cumstances, or my conduct that an honest man ought
to be ashamed of. But the more circumstances of all
these that are brought out, the more materials are fur-
nished for malice to work upon; and I assure you that
it will manufacture them to the utmost. Hitherto,
much as I have been abused, my table and my bed
were left sacred; but since it has so unfortunately
happened that my wife, a quiet woman, confined to her
* This document will be found at the end of the present letter.
TO RICHARD SHACKLETON.
III
family cares and affections, has been dragged into a
newspaper, I own I feel a little hurt. A rough public
man may be proof against all sorts of buffets, and he has
no business to be a public man if he be not so; but
there is as natural and proper a delicacy in the other
sex, which will not make it very pleasant to my wife
to be the daily subject of Grub-street and newspaper
invectives; and at present, in truth, her health is little
able to endure it. It is true that you have said of me
ten thousand handsome things, which are infinitely
beyond anything I have deserved or can deserve; but
this is only the language of friendship, which is always
interpreted down to its proper level, possibly below it,
by the severe scrutiny of the public. Indeed, what
you have said of my modesty and moderation in debate
will, I fear, take off not a little from the authority of
the rest. It is but too well known that I debate with
great vehemence and asperity, and with little manage-
ment either of the opinions or persons of many of my
adversaries. They deserve not much quarter, and I
give and receive but very little. Do not think, my dear
Shackleton, that this is written with the least view of
upbraiding you with what you have done with the best
and purest motives, and in which you have erred from
a want of knowledge of the evil dispositions of the
world, and of the modes in which they execute their
malice. I only write that if your friend Pike, in whose
hands I found there had been a copy of this paper, and
who I suspect transmitted it to the newspaper, intends
anything more of that kind, that you would quietly
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LETTERS FROM EDMUND BURKE
restrain him. I mention this because the newswriter
desires a farther correspondence with him. I can hardly
think Abraham Rawlinson could have been the pub-
lisher. As to the former gentleman, after what passed
when I was last in Dublin, I hardly thought he would
have let any copies out of his hands. I just forgot to
mention that you are mistaken in some circumstances;
where you speak of my being made easy by patronage,
&c. I assure you that if you allude to a small pension
which I had for a time, and resigned upon an over-
strained point of honour, I can inform you I got that
from the patronage of no man living. It was indeed a
defective performance of a bargain for full considera-
tion. Nor have I had any advantage except my seat in
parliament from the patronage of any man. Whatever
advantages I have had have been from friends on my
own level; as to those that are called great, I never
paid them any court; perhaps, since I must say it, they
have had as much benefit from my connection as I
have had. This for your private satisfaction. Remem-
ber us all most cordially to Mrs. Shackleton and to
your father. Poor Richard is ordered to the Grenadas ;
no pleasant place, nor pleasantly inhabited for him. I
have not interest to prevent it. Adieu, my dear friend,
and believe me most faithfully and affectionately yours,
ED. BURKE.
I am down for a day to see how things go on. Mrs.
Burke is too weak to come along with me. Adieu !
TO RICHARD SHACKLETON.
113
The following is the document referred to in the pre-
ceding letter:-
“Edmund Burke is a son of Richard Burke, who was an
attorney-at-law, of middling circumstances, fretful temper,
and punctual honesty. Richard was a protestant, origin-
ally from the province of Munster in Ireland, and married
a wife from thence. Her name was Nagle; she was of a
popish family. I cannot say whether she legally conformed
to the Church of England, but she practised the duties of
the Romish religion with a decent privacy. Her husband
was more concerned to promote his children's interest in
the world than to trouble himself about controverted
points of religion; therefore brought his sons up in the
profession of that which he thought the most public road
to preferment-the religion of the country, established by
law. His three sons, Garrett, Edmund, and Richard, were
educated at Ballitore school, and there fitted for their
several destinations in life; they constantly went with
the other protestant boys to their place of worship, and
betrayed not the least inclination to the errors of the
Church of Rome, about which they seemed to concern
themselves no more than the rest of their schoolfellows.
"Edmund was a lad of most promising genius, of an
inquisitive and speculative cast of mind, which was im-
proved in him by a constitutional indisposition, that pre-
vented him from suffering by those avocations from study
which are the consequences of puerile diversions. He
read much while he was a boy, and accumulated a stock of
learning of great variety. His memory was extensive, his
VOL. II.-8
114
LETTERS FROM EDMUND BURKE
judgment early ripe. He would find in his own mind, in
reasoning and comparing in himself, such a fund of enter-
tainment, that he seemed not at all to regret his hours of
solitude; yet he was affable, free, and communicative, as
ready to teach as to learn. He made the reading of the
classics his diversion rather than his business. He was
particularly delighted with history and poetry, and while
at school performed several exercises in the latter with a
manly grace. The day after he left Ballitore he was ad-
mitted into the University of Dublin. Though the course
of study which then obtained there was not at all adapted
to his taste, yet he went through his college exercises with
reputation and success, and seems to have extracted from
every science whatever was fine and useful in it, leaving
the rest to the mere scholars and pedants. From the
University he went to the Temple. He read the law for
a time with that intense application which it necessarily
requires, but he found that it would neither suit his habit
of body or mind to adopt that profession for a means of
livelihood. He therefore followed the bent of his own
inclination in those literary researches and productions
which could not fail to recommend him to the distin-
guished notice of those who had ruminated on the causes
of things, and gone somewhat farther than ordinary,
though perhaps out of the beaten track, into the extensive
regions of knowledge. By these he was introduced to the
acquaintance of men in power, who made him easy in his
circumstances, and on whom he reflected honour as long
as they were worthy to be his patrons. The rise of his
fortune neither made him forget his friends nor himself.
Conscious of the fallacy of human reason, as well as of the
uncertainty of human condition, he is neither elevated by
his learning nor his situation; he is neither opinionated
TO RICHARD SHACKLETON.
115
nor proud; he argues with an irresistible cogency, yet
with a modesty and gentleness which is more persuasive
than any argument; he has studied the English language
with a surprising accuracy, and speaks it with fluency and
propriety. He is rather too precipitate in his speech, for
his ideas crowd so fast upon his imagination, and his judg-
ment ranges them so quickly in order, that he has not the
delay of deliberation and recollection. The innate good-
ness of his heart thinks more of informing his audience of
that which he believes it will be their advantage to know,
than of acquiring to himself the fame of a fine speaker.
And as he is not tinctured with that self-complacency
which acquiesces entirely in itself, but bears about him that
modest diffidence which ever accompanies true genius, he
is in haste to finish his own speech that he may hear and
be better informed by that of others. Rarely in one man
does there happen such an union of good qualities. There
is combined in him the contemplative sagacity of a philo-
sopher and the easy politeness of a courtier; the prudent
reserve of a man of business and the open frankness of a
friend; a profound knowledge of books and universal
acquaintance with men and things; a most delicate and
lively invention, a most exact and refined judgment. He
has a person and parts which command our admiration
and respect; he has a manner and disposition which win
love and esteem. Though deep now in scenes of political
business, and conversant in the intrigues of state, that
amor patriæ which warmed his earliest youth still pre-
dominates in his soul; neither a consideration of his own
temporal interest nor that of any other can check its
flame. In his public life he is noble, wise, and steady—in
his private, just, benevolent, and humane. The great, the
good, and the amiable qualities are most happily blended
8*
116
LETTERS FROM EDMUND BURKE
in his character; and into this composition enters a cer-
tain unaffected simplicity of manner and conduct, which
characterises the whole man with a peculiar pleasing dis-
tinction. He was of a speculative, yet he is also of a
social cast. He took to wife the daughter of Dr. Nugent,
born also in Munster, but educated in England; a genteel,
well-bred woman of the Romish faith, whom he married
neither for her religion nor her money, but from the
natural impulse of youthful affection and inclination, which
guided his choice to an agreeable object, with whom he
promised himself happiness in a married state. This con-
nection has given rise to an opinion that he was addicted
to the errors of that Church, but without any foundation
in reason for such a conclusion. He is well satisfied that
there are many errors in the principles of that Church,
but at the same time thinks there may be some also in
his own. He thinks the clergy of the Church of England
to be, in general, a very worthy class of people; attends
them at their places of devotion and no others; is inti-
mately acquainted with several of the first rank in that
body; yet he believes in religion, as he does in politics,
that no human system is on all sides perfect, and as there
is a mixture of good and bad people among the professors
of every religion, that so there is a mixture of right and
wrong tenets among the principles of every profession.
He knows the prejudices of education are strong, and
human understanding is comparatively weak. He believes
the Papists wrong, he doubts if the Protestants are alto-
gether right. He has not yet been favoured to find that
Church which would lead him to the indubitable certainty
of true religion, undefiled with the mixture of human
inventions; to which his own spirit, as a man, though
truly excellent, can no more guide him, than their fine
TO RICHARD SHACKLETON.
117
powers and reasoning could guide the ancient poets, philo-
sophers, &c. who, notwithstanding their noble exertion of
the rational faculties in investigating the works of nature,
remained in the grossest ignorance and absurdities respect-
ing the truths of Christianity. And surely in the matter
most essentially necessary and interesting, it is not to be
imagined that divine wisdom and God's goodness should
leave us destitute of the means of infallible certainty."
LETTER LII.
RICHARD SHACKLETON TO EDMUND BURKE,
Ballitore, 28th of Fourth-month, 1770.
My dear friend (if I may take the liberty still to
call thee so),
I have received thy letter, written in the vexa-
tion of thy spirit, cutting and wounding me in the ten-
derest parts, and ripping open a sore which I thought
was long ago healed!
I know nothing in the world about the publication
of that unfortunate paper, but what thou tell'st me,
nor who could be the publisher of it. I have used thee
and thy family grossly ill. I acknowledged it as fully
as I could. I am covered with grief, shame, and confu-
sion for it. It was done in the simplicity of my heart;
I mean, the writing of it. The giving a copy of it I
will not call indiscretion, but madness and folly. With
the same simplicity I before let thee know how I came
to write it, and why I gave a copy of it. When I had
118
LETTERS FROM EDMUND BURKE
given it to my friend, and he had given a copy to his
friend, it very probably circulated out of the power of
either of us to recal. It passed like money through the
hands of people, good and bad, friends and enemies;
and because the matter was gold, though bunglingly
coined, and possibly still more defaced in the circula-
tion, it was too precious to be lost. I am sure I had
no more thoughts of its spreading as it has done, nor of
its ever being published, than I have of the publication
of this letter. If what has been published varies at all
from the copy which I sent thee, or if I can do any-
thing by way of atonement or amendment, grant me
this last favour of putting it in my power to do it. In
a few days I expect to see Dick Pike, and purpose to
make all the inquiry, and give all the charges necessary.
I said thy letter cut and wounded me; it did indeed
effectually. It was dictated by a perturbed mind; it
was calculated to punish and fret me; and it has ob-
tained its end. Thy family, thy circumstances, thy con-
duct, thy bed, thy board-I am indirectly or directly
charged with defaming and vilifying them all, not
indeed as a false friend, but as a very foolish one. I
could bear even all this, whether deserved or not, from
thee. Thou art so used to lay about thee, and give
and take no quarter with thy enemies, that it is unsafe
for thy friends to be near thee. If there be any of the
language of friendship in thy letter, it is only like oil
to make the edge more keen. If the voice be any
where like Jacob's, the hands are Esau's. Thou art
grown "a rough public man," sure enough. I say I
TO RICHARD SHACKLETON.
119
any man.
could bear even this from thee (for I know both my
own heart and thine), and if the affair lay only between
ourselves, there might sometime be an end of it. But
thy mention of my interfering in thy domestic connec-
tions, and dragging the partner of thy bed and the
softener of thy busy scenes of life into a newspaper, is
wounding to the last degree. Whatever thou art
pleased to think of me, I have, perhaps, and (for aught
I know) ever had as great delicacy in these matters as
Look into that ill-advised impertinent paper
which I stupidly wrote, and see is there anything that
offends against the nicest delicacy. The truth is, this
paper and conduct of mine will, like most other things,
bear a double construction. Taking a full view of it
altogether, I cannot be reckoned exceeding criminal;
view it in a partial light, luce maligna, and it will be
deemed thy great misfortune that in the early part of
thy life thou happened to have had any connection
with such low companions, such indiscreet friends. I
do in the sincerest and most earnest manner beg for-
giveness of thy amiable companion-the bosom friend
of my friend-for having written anything that could
give her the most distant cause of uneasiness. As to
any of her house being offended with me for taking the
liberty of delineating thy character, be it known to
them that not one of them all, nor, I believe, any man
living, more zealously, more affectionately, more assidu-
ously seeks and desires the welfare of Ned Burke than
I do; and though in a way which neither he nor they
may know much about, I am sure it is in sincerity, and
J20
LETTERS FROM EDMUND BURKE
I trust not altogether in vain. What is flattery to
fools is plain-dealing and truth to a man of sense, and
a man of sense will not be hurt by it. The talents
which God has given thee, the powers which thou hast
displayed, the high ground on which thou standest,
have rendered thee an object of public admiration—
they that hate thee yet admire thee. Hence naturally
follows envy.
Why shouldst thou expect to escape
it? Thou knowest far better than I how the greatest
men among the Gentiles felt and lamented it. The
first apostle among the Christians says that he approved
himself in his office "by honour and dishonour, by evil
report and good report, as a deceiver and yet true.”
Wert thou my inferior or my equal, I might indulge in
expatiating on this and such topics; but when I look up
to thee, thou seem'st so thoroughly to have anticipated
in thy observation and experience all that I could say
upon the subject, that any thing that I could drop
would appear to myself more like the trite common-
place declamation of a conceited country pedant who
loved to hear himself prate, than the pertinent and sea-
sonable remarks of a rational friend. I will therefore
have done.
I am sorry we must lend Richard to the barbarians
on the other side of the globe.* Every one of us has
his own perplexity. His remote destination, my home-
confinement, thy complicated arduous engagements em-
* Edmund Burke's brother Richard, who was about to sail for
Bermuda.
TO RICHARD SHACKLETON.
121
bitter our several cups of life, and fully prove to each
of us that it is a cup of mixture. To live in the awful
fear of our Creator and keep a conscience void of
offence helps much to sweeten the draught. Tell him
my love and good wishes attend him there and back
again. Remember me most affectionately to thy house-
hold, or rather desire them to forget me. My father
and my wife are well, and preserve a sincere affection
for you all. I am entirely convinced (and thought
before) that thy application to Lord Rockingham upon
the subject of my last would have been quite improper.
I mentioned in that letter why I could not, never-
theless, well avoid moving it to thee. I am quite satis-
fied about the propriety of thy conduct respecting it,
but not of my own, for I was a blockhead to meddle in
it. I wrote thee a long letter before that, but thou dost
not give me the satisfaction of knowing whether thou
received it or not; and it's like that if thou hadst not
been heartily vexed, I would have known as little for a
long time to come about the fate of my last. However,
this be assured of, that whether ever I see or hear from
thee again, or whether this letter closes our corre-
spondence for life, I am, with unabated, undiminished
affection, thy sincere and faithful friend,
RICHARD SHACKLETON.
122
LETTERS FROM EDMUND BURKE
LETTER LIII.
Gregories, May 6th, 1770.
My dear friend,
I am now in the place from whence I was
weak and blameable enough to write you a very angry,
a very cruel, and in all respects a very improper letter.
I will not be more dilatory in making all the amends
in my power for the offence than I was in offending.
So I write immediately on the receipt of your letter.
But let my apology be, if it be one, that a spirit not
naturally over-patient had about that time ten thousand
things to mortify it, and this coming on the back of
them did for a while put me beside myself. I assure
you I am so concerned for what you have felt, that I
could not bear to read through your description of it.
A little trifling-mere imprudence at worst-did by no
means deserve anything like a reproof, much less so
harsh a one. As to my wife, you needed to make no
apology at all to her; she felt nothing but good wishes
and friendship to you, and is by no means liable to
those spurts of passion to which I am unfortunately but
too subject. In truth the publication was soon forgot,
produced no sort of effect, but was borne down the tor-
rent of such matter, where one succeeds and carries
away the other too velut unda impellitur unda.
Pray forget it, as the world has and as I do; burn
the letter I wrote, which deserves no better fate; and
TO RICHARD SHACKLETON.
123
may I beg—since it is one of the drawbacks on those
who get a little consideration in the world that every
little matter relative to them, how unfit soever for the
public eye, is dragged before it by one means or other—
that you would commit to the same flames any letter,
letters, or papers of mine which you may find and
which you think liable through some accident to be so
abused. It is hardly credible how many people live by
such publications, and how hard it is altogether to
escape this interested diligence. This week has been
laborious and busy enough. The bank scheme still
predominates; though every name in the kingdom
respectable for public virtue, public service, or pub.
lic talents is against it. The pamphlet which I sent to
you, and which has been well received, will explain to
you the grounds of our proceeding better than I can do
in this place. It is the political creed of our party.
Many parts will be unintelligible to you, I confess, for
want of knowledge of particular persons and facts; but
on the whole I think you must enter into the design.
Read it with attention.
My brother is to leave us shortly, but I trust in God
his stay in that disagreeable part of the world will be
short. Mrs. Burke is recovering; she is now in the
country, and desires to be most sincerely and most cor-
dially remembered to you, to Mrs. Shackleton, and to
your father. My little boy joins us in the same good
wishes, in proportion to his knowledge and remembrance
of you. He is a boy of good dispositions and no bad
parts; he is now forward in Homer and Lucian, and
124
LETTERS FROM EDMUND BURKE
makes Latin verses that are not altogether detestable
for his time. Adieu! my dear Shackleton; forgive
one who, if he is quick to offend, is ready to atone;
who loves, values, and esteems your abilities and your
virtues; and never can think of your early and con-
tinued friendship but as one of the chief blessings of
his life. I am, my dear friend, once more truly and
affectionately yours,
EDMUND BURKE.
Have we no hope of seeing you this summer?
LETTER LIV.
Beaconsfield, January 3rd, 1773.
My dear Shackleton,
You take me on my weak side when you
desire me to talk about corn; though not so large a
consumer as you, I am considerably so. However, I sell
far more than I use, so that the dearness is not to me,
as a farmer, quite so affecting for my personal share of
the distress as it is to others. Until some weeks hence
it will not be very easy to come at the true state of last
year's produce. Not much has been hitherto threshed
except for seed, unless by such poor farmers as are
obliged to get to the earliest market, and their supply
is
very limited. About us the wheat harvest has been
tolerably good; mine the best I ever had. But the
failure of the spring crops has been almost universal in
the southern part of the kingdom, and the high price
of one kind of grain will operate upon all the rest more
TO RICHARD SHACKLETON.
125
or less.
In the north the corn yielded well, but they
got it in wretchedly. On the whole, I conclude that
the price of wheat will keep up very high the whole
year, though the importation and the successive home.
threshing will somewhat lower it from its present price.
But if the price is now moderate with you, that impor-
tation which will bring it down with us will raise it in
Ireland; and Mrs. Shackleton is right in her economy,
if you have good granaries.
What shall I say about Lord Bellamont? I do know
him, but hardly enough to ask much less to expect any
favour from him. Indeed about people's private con-
cerns and the management of their estates any inter-
ference is generally not very kindly taken, nor likely
therefore to prove very successful. However, let the
matter take its chance, and if you look for any good
from it, I will take your letter to him with all my heart.
I thank you for your very kind enquiry about my
Richard. He thanks you, too. He is a good boy, and
for his age is forward enough. Last week he returned
to me from Oxford. He is entered in that University a
student in Christ Church. The Dean was very much
pleased with him upon his examinations. I have some
thoughts of getting him a leave of absence for half a
year, and taking him into France. This is the time for
forming him to that language, while the organs are lim-
ber. I have found the greatest inconvenience in the
want of it. Mrs. Burke desires a very affectionate
remembrance to you and Mrs. Shackleton, and believe
me most sincerely yours,
EDMUND BURKE.
126
LETTERS FROM EDMUND BURKE
LETTER LV.
Beaconsfield, August 11th, 1776.
My dear Shackleton,
Since I could not have the pleasure of your
company longer, and particularly since I was so unluck-
ily circumstanced as to be obliged to stay in London at
a time when I earnestly wished you here, my comfort is
that the rest of your tour was so satisfactory, and your
return to your family and friends so safe and pleasant.
I hope you will be tempted to such another trip next
year. We shall not then I hope be confined in such a
manner as we were this year. We may contrive a few
pleasant evenings in walks about our hills and woods.
You have sent me a letter directed only to Wood-
bridge, without so much as mentioning the county in
which this illustrious town stands. I really do not
know where it is, so that if any ill fortune happens to
the letter you must not charge me with it.
We are deeply in blood. We expect now to hear of
some sharp affair every hour. God knows how it will
be. I do not know how to wish success to those whose
victory is to separate from us a large and noble part
of our empire. Still less do I wish success to injustice,
oppression, and absurdity. Things are in a bad train,
and in more ways than one. No good can come of any
event in this war to any virtuous interest. We have
forgot or thrown away all our antient principles. This
view sometimes sinks my spirits.
TO RICHARD SHACKLETON.
127
Adieu! my dear friend. Mrs. Burke, who highly
esteems and values you, wishes to salute you and Mrs.
Shackleton. My son does the same. So does Will
Burke. My brother is in town, but always remembers
you with a most cordial affection. I am most affection-
ately ever yours,
EDMUND BURKE.
LETTER LVI.
Beaconsfield, September 11th, 1777.
My dear Shackleton,
You may be assured that there is none in this
house capable of forgetting you, however appearances
may seem every now and then to the contrary. I am
neither very busy in my occupation, or excessively idle
in my nature; but I have got some habits that I ought
to be ashamed to confess, since I have used few endea-
vours to mend. Be assured, my very dear friend, that
if I had any matter very pleasant, either of a domestic
or public nature to entertain you with, you should have
it as soon as any body. But things remain with us all
just as they were when you were here, other than that
one of our closest friends is divided from us by a great
portion of the globe. Will Burke is gone to India.
You have some franks, and I shall send you more. I
have only one favour to beg relative to this matter,
which is that you will contrive in some obliging way to
let me know whether the person I am to direct to be
128
LETTERS FROM EDMUND BURKE
called, if male, Esq. or plain Mr.; or if a woman, whe-
ther Mrs. or Miss; for you know as well as I do, that
Quakers are at least as punctilious in the use of these
distinctions as any others, when applied by those who
they know do not scruple them; and don't forget that
it is I who directed the letter, not you, and that when
I mean to please them with franking the letter, I may
affront them by neglecting that civility which they know
I employ in common. So much for the direction, which,
observing this, the more you give me the more I shall
be pleased. Adieu! my dear Richard, your namesakes
both and my Jane B. desire to be most cordially remem-
bered to you and Mrs. Shackleton and your son, of
whom we hear all manner of good things; nobody can
wish you all the happiness you deserve. I am ever
yours most faithfully and affectionately,
EDMUND BURKE.
LETTER LVII.
RICHARD SHACKLETON TO EDMUND BURKE.
Ballitore, 2nd of 5th Month, 1782.
My dear friend,
The newspapers, almost my sole intelligencers,
have informed me of the sudden and wonderful change
in our political world, and obscure as I am, yet I could
not avoid rejoicing at it; nay, nothing would serve me
but I must after this manner express my joy. Seques-
tered in my humble department of life, I have neverthe-
TO RICHARD SHACKLETON.
129
less found my mind dipped into deep concern for the
public weal; and the happiness and prosperity of the
empire of Great Britain in particular, and, indeed, of
mankind in general, have been often near my heart.
I have sown in tears, and therefore I reap in joy. I joy
that those affairs are at length wrested out of the hands
of men who seem to have been altogether inadequate to
the conduct of them, and are committed to those whom
even the Almighty himself hath thought proper to dis-
tinguish by extraordinary gifts and talents. My dear
Edmund, I cannot but rejoice with a mixture of the
pride of friendship, which elevates me in idea to thy
own rank, that the vail is rent which made a separation
between royalty and loyalty, between the crown and its
own true interest and dignity, between the king and the
affections of his people. I perceive in my own heart a
great alteration in its feelings respecting the king. I
now love him sincerely, and am persuaded that it was
not want of capacity or good disposition, but errors ori-
ginating in those prejudices to which all men from edu-
cation or habit are liable, that induced him to give a
sanction to measures so unfortunate and ruinous. To
be called at such a time as this to the preservation of
the state is like a physician being called to a patient
whom quacks have resigned in the last stage of his
disorder; it is like being placed at the helm when un-
skilful pilots have run the ship aground; but they are
situations such as these which show forth the saviour
of a country. Knots so complicated such men only can
loose. I presume, my dear friend, from thy present
VOL. II.-9
130
LETTERS FROM EDMUND BURKE
station, that thou hast now frequent opportunities of
the royal ear-this is what I wished for thee. Kings are
objects of compassion, and should be subjects of tender
sympathy. I am fully persuaded of thy personal attach-
ment to the king, because I know thou lovest simplicity
and sincerity, and canst make allowance for accidental
circumstances. Thou art possessed of a disinterested
virtue very rare amongst the qualifications of statesmen.
I trust that in the conferences of the members of the
administration thy sentiments, springing out of the
ground of an honest heart, and delivered with that native
candour, fervour, and integrity which demonstrate their
original, will in a great measure sway your councils.
Truth and honesty are ponderous things; when they
force an entrance for themselves into the consciences
even of their enemies, they are not easily dislodged. I
am well aware that to act uprightly and all in concert
with men differing in their views, their opinions, and
their comprehensions, is attended with complicated em-
barrassments, and to agree on a measure is often more
difficult than to carry it into execution. Coadjutors
are sometimes more perplexing than avowed opponents.
But when a person recommends himself by the whole
tenor of his conduct to the consciences of all men, when
he speaks his sentiments on important subjects with
firmness and wisdom, and when a succession of events
justifies those sentiments, such a man, like truth itself,
must prevail. Not only the sort of friends but the
sort of enemies which he has will confirm the rectitude
TO RICHARD SHACKLETON.
131
of his character. He is exalted a public spectacle be-
tween both, like Milton's golden scales,
hung forth in heaven, yet seen
Betwixt Astræa and the Scorpion sign.
But hold! I am soaring to another region.
descend from the "sublime and beautiful."
and poetics were not wont to cohabit, though perhaps
they will now lie down together, like the lion and
the lamb in the gospel times. The newspapers men-
tioned thy being gone to the Continent to negotiate a
peace. I was delighted with the thought of thy being
employed in that godlike work, the most noble and
glorious occupation which can possibly fall to the lot of
man. The value of peace is best estimated by contrast-
ing it with the effects of war-inhuman, irrational,
brutish, cruel, destructive war! And yet I believe this
dreadful evil, with all its concomitant horrors, often
depends on the capricious will of a few vain and selfish
individuals. I am persuaded, from long and intimate
knowledge of thy heart, that it would be its principal
joy that thou should be instrumental to procure this.
capital blessing of peace for mankind; and Edmund
Burke would that there should be no occasion for a
standing army in the British empire, though the Pay-
master of the Forces, having no forces to pay, should lose
his office.* Oh! how beautiful are the arts of peace!
I must
Politics
The yearly meeting of London is approaching-it is
held in Whitsun week, not in commemoration of the
* Burke at that time held the office of Paymaster of the Forces..
9*
132
LETTERS FROM EDMUND BURKE
time, but for general convenience. I know not yet
whether I shall attend it. If I do, my secondary atten-
tion, it is probable, will as usual be to thee. We are
all, thank Providence, tolerably well here. We wish
you all long health, and heartily felicitate you on every
prosperous event which contributes to your happiness.
I am, my dear Edmund, sincerely and affectionately
thine,
RICHARD SHACKLETON.
LETTER LVIII.
Charles-street [London], March 3rd, 1783.
My dear friend,
Your letters for Bristol came to me when I
was in the midst of business and company. If I don't
mistake, one was for Mr. Rutter, the other for Mr.
Tucket. I laid them both, or thought I did, on the
table among my papers. When I came to prepare
covers for them, I could only find the latter, which I
sent. I am sorry if any accident has happened to the
former. It is possible that in my haste I threw it into
the fire with several covers which enclosed letters from
my friends by the same post. You must be at the
trouble of writing again. I am sorry that you are to
have it by my neglect, or that a very worthy man, as
Mr. Rutter is, should lose for any time the satisfaction
he must have had in hearing from you.
TO RICHARD SHACKLETON.
133
We are here in a condition by no means agreeable for
the present, and, I am afraid, threatening worse things
for the future. We have demolished the Earl of Shel-
bourne; but in his fall he has pulled down a large piece
of the building. He had indeed undermined it before.
This wicked man, and no less weak and stupid than
false and hypocritical, has contrived to break to pieces.
the body of men whose integrity, wisdom, and union
were alone capable of giving consistency to public mea-
sures, and recovering this kingdom from the miserable
state into which it is fallen. To destroy him was a
necessary preliminary to everything that could be
desired beneficial for the public. But whether the
proper results will be suffered to follow, I know not.
I greatly fear that they will not; and for once I con-
fess I apprehend more from the madness of the people
than from any other cause. If things fail. avräv åtαo-
saλínow oλovro. Things are in great confusion. They all
resign to-morrow, as I hear and believe; by that time
they will have settled their pensions. Adieu, my dear
friend, and know the value of the sweet spot of the
world and the sweet state of life in which God has
placed you, far from these storms! Remember us all
to Mrs. Shackleton, to your excellent and ingenious
daughter, and to my friend, I had almost said my old
friend- Abraham. Adieu! adieu!
Yours ever and ever,
EDM. BURKE.
134
LETTERS FROM EDMUND BURKE
LETTER LIX.
[No date.]
My dear Shackleton,
We shall wait for nine to-morrow with im-
patience; and shall be happy to see your whole self
without any distinction of parts. The snuff I have pre-
sented. Mrs. Burke wishes heartily to see the pre-
senter. Yours ever,
EDMUND BURKE.
LETTER LX.
RICHARD SHACKLETON TO EDMUND BURKE.
Ballitore, Tenth-month 18th, 1785.
My dear friend,
I feel myself in a very awkward situation
when I begin to write; the cause of my writing is that
the newspapers here mention the son of a "Mr. Burke”
having lately been lost in his passage from Harwich to
Holland, and subsequent papers give us to understand
that the father is since deceased. This intelligence is
no trifling matter to me and my family, and we are
earnestly solicitous to know what credit is to be given
to any part of it. We know that information by this
channel is seldom to be relied on, and as a "Dominick
Burke" has died lately, we are willing to hope that
TO RICHARD SHACKLETON.
135
these events relate to his family. Do, if there be one
among you alive, in charity and compassion be so
humane as to take us out of this state of grievous sus-
pense. As I can never hear from any of you, I should
have waited awhile in expectation that this must be
shortly cleared up, but my daughter Mary is so exceed-
ingly uneasy and impatient, that she will not let me
delay longer making this inquiry. I hope and trust
that the great Controller of events has not permitted
this dispensation-that the intelligence is false or erro-
neous—but most certain it is, that sooner or later most
trying afflictions from one quarter or other overtake us
all—trials and sufferings which no human aid nor con-
solation, nothing but the favour of heaven and a sense
of it communicated to our spirits, can effectually support
us under. As we draw towards the awful close of all,
may we with more sedulous attention cultivate this
favour by the performance of every duty which we
think requisite for that purpose; and chiefly by having
the general tenor of our lives regulated by the grace of
God, his immutable, irreversible law in the conscience.
I pray from my heart that his blessing and protection
may surround you all. We all join-we all join in
most affectionate greetings and wishes for a speedy and
happy reply to this. My dear Edmund, farewell. I
trust not yet for ever.
RICHARD SHACKLETON.*
* The answer to this letter is printed in Lord Fitzwilliam's col-
lection.
136
LETTERS FROM EDMUND BURKE
LETTER LXI.
RICHARD SHACKLETON TO EDMUND Burke.
Ballitore, Twelfth-month 5th, 1785.
My dear Edmund,
We were all exceedingly glad to have it from
under thy own hand that thou art in the land of the
living, and that thy son was still upon the earth, and
not under the waters. We shed among you those kind
congratulations which we have received from our numer-
ous friends on the occasion. Our Mary, who would
have been chief mourner if the report had unhappily
been true, takes the lead in expressing our common joy.
As every one has his own way of uttering what he feels,
she follows that which is most easy and natural to her.
The effusions of her heart are herewith sent. Thy par-
tiality to her little productions encourages her to pre-
sent them to thee.
We are all, thank Providence, very well, enjoying,
I hope with gratitude, the domestic happiness and tran-
quillity which we are favoured with. Deus nobis hæc
otia fecit. If at any time I grow tired of myself and
my wife, I step over to my son and his wife. If they
should be busy with their own concerns, and cannot
afford time to chat with an idle old man, I am pleased
with their diligent attention to their business, and turn
to their children, who run up to me, climb atop of me,
TO RICHARD SHACKLETON,
137
bring me down to their own level, and we are all chil-
dren together-joys which grandfathers only know.
If, like a man of pleasure, I want variety in my enjoy-
ments, I take my horse and go to other children and
other grandchildren, and diversify my gratification in
such mutual endearments. Such are my recreations
and amusements--I hope not unbecoming a man. As
to my engagements and occupations, I wish them to be
such as are becoming a Christian. I often regret that
I cannot have the pleasure of exchanging sentiments
oftener with thee. Life will be at an end before we
allow ourselves time to enjoy the best comforts of it.
In the youthful spring of it we seemed to enjoy one
another; the summer and autumn we gave to the world
and to business in our respective lines. Now winter is
coming on us, we should be social, warm, and comfort-
able. May you all be happy in yourselves, and one in
another; and principally in the experience of the Divine
blessing! Do let us hear now and then from thee.
Say whether this gets to hand. I shall be glad to hear
of my young friend Richard's safe return. How is my
old friend Richard? he was indisposed when I was last
in England.
All our affectionate regards attend you all. My dear
Edmund, farewell!
RICHARD SHACKLETON,
138
LETTERS FROM EDMUND BURKE
LETTER LXII.
College-green [Dublin], October 10th, 1786.
My dear friend,
I am in Dublin, and am most seriously mor-
tified that I cannot go further, and, as I wished,
embrace you and the friends that we have so much
concern in at Ballitore. My son feels this mortification
as sensibly as I do. He has reason-as he has been
honoured and distinguished by your daughter's genius
in a manner in which it is in the power of few indeed
to honour any of those whom their partiality wishes to
distinguish. Our coming hither at all is at this moment
a thing almost incomprehensible to me. But the fact
is, the weather has been dreadfully bad; and that has
narrowed, as well as made very unpleasant, the little
time we have had to spare. We cannot give ourselves
a fortnight here; a session earlier than I expected calls
me to London, and Richard must appear in his bar-gown
at Westminster Hall on the 9th of next month. Alas,
my dear Shackleton, that I should be driven to apolo-
gise for not seeing Ballitore after so many years! I
think you will not believe that I want this natural
inclination to give myself pleasure, and to renovate
myself by the view of the friends, amidst the scenes, of
my earliest youth! Embrace for me your excellent
wife, your worthy son-your successor and the successor
TO RICHARD SHACKLETON.
139
of my old master-and your daughter, who makes the
pleasantest, the most classical of all grounds.
Adieu, my dear friend, and believe me most faithfully
and affectionately yours,
EDMUND BURKE.
1
LETTER LXIII.
[No date.]
My dear Shackleton,
I am just come to town after regaling myself
with a mouthful of good air. Your letter from Bedford
came to me in the country. Please God you will find
me at leisure. My work is over this day, having car-
ried my twentieth article to the Lords. Can you break-
fast here to-morrow morning? Mrs. B. will rejoice to
see you. Both the Dicks are at Bristol now.
My dear friend,
most truly yours,
EDMUND BURKE.
LETTER LXIV.
Gerrard-street [London], 9th May, 1788.
My dear friend,
I was very unlucky not to have been found
at Beaconsfield when you called; I ought to have been
140
LETTERS FROM EDMUND BURKE.
present at the planting of the poetical potatoes; they
will flourish and grow, sunt enim sata ingenio.
I really long to see you, and the lady who accom-
panies you and cheers you in your journey. Have I
ever seen that daughter of yours!—it is a shame that I
should forget.* This day will be the last of my very
busy days for a week, but I do not expect that we shall
be up this day (to use an Irish expression) until six
at soonest to-morrow. We have an India law fox to
hunt, but he will earth in strong ministerial and pro-
fessional party ground, and we shall not be able to dig
him out. If you can call this evening, you will find
Mrs. Burke and the Richards (one or both, if they can
hear of your arrival) ready most joyfully to receive you.
Our best regards and respects to your daughter. I am,
my dear Shackleton,
Most truly yours,
EDMUND BURKE.
* Richard Shackleton's youngest daughter, Sarah-generally
called "Sally" in the "Annals of Ballitore." She passed the last
thirty-three years of a very long life in total blindness, and died
on the 1st day of 1847, in the eighty-seventh year of her age.
+ Warren Hastings.
PART II.
CORRESPONDENCE OF MRS. TRENCH
AND
MRS. LEADBEATER.
CORRESPONDENCE
OF
MRS. TRENCH AND MRS. LEADBEATER.
I.-FROM MRS. ST. GEORGE, AFTERWARDS MRS. TRENCH.
Ballitore Inn, 1802.
Indeed, my dear madam, you are too good to me, and
I hardly know how to express my thanks. Your prose
"Ballitore "* resembles a highly finished Dutch paint-
ing, in which one of the best artists has represented
village scenery and manners, and where one is not only
struck by the general effect, but amused and interested
by the details, which all bear to be separately examined.
Your minutest touches have their value, and the whole
wears the stamp of truth and nature. Many parts are
very affecting. As a faithful portrait of a small but in-
teresting circle it is really curious, and will become more
so every day, as those minute particulars, neglected by
the historian and exaggerated by the novelist, increase
in value as they increase in years. They throw the
strongest light on the progress of luxury, and the
changes of modes and customs; so perhaps many of
* Referring to the "Annals of Ballitore," as contradistin-
guished from Mrs. Leadbeater's poetical description of her native
village.
144
CORRESPONDENCE OF MRS. TRENCH
the most trifling circumstances you have recorded may
furnish matter whence our great grandchildren may
draw important conclusions.
It is scarcely necessary for me to add how greatly
flattered I am by your remark on the mutual attraction
of some minds. As to the "difference of personal cir-
cumstances" you allude to, it does not exist, for I am
unencumbered by rank or precedence of any kind, and
surely your friendship would throw a lustre on the
highest.
II.
Your faithful and attached,
Ag
-FROM MRS. LEADBEATER.
M. ST. G.
Ballitore, 7th of Seventh-month, 1802.
The note which thou, my very kind friend, favoured
me with on thy leaving Ballitore, did not reach my
hands as soon as was intended. I resolved to accept
the liberty given me therein to write to thee, because I
have no reason to think that thou wilt not be pleased
to hear of those humble friends whose affection and
esteem thou hast so much engaged.
I have now an additional motive to take up the
pen to acknowledge the receipt of thy gift, which was
handed to me this morning. I was not quite ignorant
of thy poetical talent, and I longed earnestly for some
of thy productions; how then was I rejoiced when on
opening the little volume I found my wishes gratified!
If I should express all those poems have already made
AND MRS. LEADBEATER.
145
me feel, I fear thou would not be pleased. That some-
thing which cannot be described, but which is
Warm from the heart and to the heart addressed,
never fails to charm; simplicity clothed by elegance is
irresistible.
(6
About two weeks since I received a letter from my
much valued friend Juliet Smith; I know thou art
much interested about her, and shall give thee an ex-
tract :-"I have often heard of Mrs. St. George from
my friend Lady Eleanor Butler, and I have always
“understood she was a woman of uncommon talents.
"My retirement has been illumined by the company
"of a Miss Hamilton, a countrywoman of yours. She
"is the author of several works, all as conspicuous for
"their purity and benevolence as for their wit and
literary merit. She has taken a lodging beside one
"of the neighbouring lakes, within seven miles of us,
(6
so that she is within reach of a walk, and comes to
partake of my cottage fare for a day or two."
I ought to have informed thee sooner about the little
commissions respecting thy tenants. It was no trouble
to me to distribute these things; it gladdens my heart
to be made the instrument of dispensing benevolence.
Thou must indulge me in speaking a little more of
the contents of thy little volume. My nephew, Richard
Shackleton, seems as if he could not be tired of reading
"Mary Queen of Scots," nor I of hearing him. Our
critiques might amuse thee if thou heard us unseen. I
love critiques; and though I have no right to aspire to
be a critic, yet I may remark on what pleases myself.
((
(6
VOL IL-10
146
CORRESPONDENCE OF MRS. TRENCH
The opening of the poem is, one would think, as inte-
resting as possible, but the interest increases with its
progress. Our grief at the fatal termination of Mary's
sufferings is converted into admiration at her magna-
nimity. But alas for poor Elizabeth, whom I have
been early taught to respect, though always to consider
the execution of Mary as a blot on her illustrious reign.
I fear posterity will view her with detestation.
I did not intend to send thee a few lines I wrote in
the blank leaf of "Mary Queen of Scots," but William
desires me to do it, and, though I never promised to
obey him, I should the more readily now, did I not fear
that what was only the effusion of an overflowing heart
might be mistaken for the detestable voice of flattery.
While Melesina wakes the living lyre,
And Truth and History guide the moral song,
The raptured heart is kindled at her fire,
And quaffs the harmonious tide which rolls along.
Wealth, Beauty, Genius, all combine to pour
Their brilliant gifts upon their favourite fair;
Wise was the choice and happy was the hour
In which those brilliant gifts united were!
Not hers the joy to bask in Fortune's glow,
Her simple taste from purer springs is fed ;
'Tis hers to bid the golden current flow
Where the bleak wilds of poverty are spread.
Seek not in courts-you shall not find her there,
She proved the pomp of courts and found it vain-
Behold her seated on the rustic chair
Surrounded by the little lowly train!
AND MRS. LEADBEATER.
147
The uncouth accents strike her patient ear,
Oft is the tedious task repeated o'er;
Whilst winning smiles his wondering bosom cheer,
The little peasant learns the artless lore.
Thus in her breast ennobling virtues shine,
While meek humility inhabits there—
Wealth, Beauty, Genius, well did you combine
Your brilliant gifts to grace your favourite fair!
Thy affectionate friend,
M. LEADBEATER
III.-FROM MRS. ST. GEORGE.
Paris, March 8th, 1803.
My dear friend,
I am not quite so faulty as you may suppose
when you recollect the date of your last letter; and I
have been the whole winter in a state of health which
gave me a distaste for my most favourite occupations.
Nothing else could have detained me so long in Paris
-a place which in cold weather I think excessively
disagreeable and peculiarly unwholesome. In fine wea-
ther, when a stranger can visit the various works of art
which the tempest has assembled here from every quar-
ter of the globe, it is highly interesting; and it is encir-
cled by so many delightful gardens, that one may pass
the summer here without feeling one's absence from the
country. Yet I have never seen a spot where I should
more grieve at fixing my residence, nor a nation with
10*
148
CORRESPONDENCE OF MRS. TRENCH
which I should find it more difficult to coalesce. A
revolution does not seem to be favourable to the morals
of a people. In the upper classes I have seen little but
the most ardent pursuit after sensual and frivolous plea-
sures, and the most unqualified egotism and contempt
for intellectual enjoyments, with a devotion to the
shrines of luxury and vanity unknown at any former
period. The lower ranks are chiefly marked by a total
want of probity, and an earnestness for the gain of to-
day, though purchased by the sacrifice of that character
which might ensure them tenfold advantages on the
morrow. You must not think me infected with national
prejudices; I speak from the narrow circle of my own
observation, and that of my friends; and I do not in-
clude the suffering part of the nation, who have little
intercourse with strangers, and who form a society
apart.
I have been presented to Buonaparte and his wife,
who receive with great state, ceremony, and magnifi-
cence. His manner is very good, but the expression of
his countenance is not attractive. Curran says he has
the face of a gloomy tyrant. Another has compared
him to a corpse with living eyes; and a painter re-
marked to me that the smile on his lips never seemed
to accord with the rest of his features. I have the
pleasure of sending you a little picture very like him,
which may enable you to form your own opinion.
Let me thank you a thousand times for your favour-
able reception of my little volume, and your flatter-
ing and beautiful verses, in which you have decked me
AND MRS. LEADBEATER.
149
out with merits that I owe entirely to your partial
friendship and lively imagination. I do not, however,
wish you to awaken from the illusion; on the contrary,
I feel a pride and pleasure in reflecting that, strong as is
your discernment, your affection for me is still stronger.
I should consider it as a favour if you would lay out
the enclosed sum for the benefit of my poor cottagers,
in any way you think most likely to relieve distress
or animate industry. Believe me ever faithfully and
affectionately yours,
M. S. G.
IV. FROM MRS. LEADBEATER.
Ballitore, 11th of First Month, 1806.
I had no idea, my dearly beloved friend, that it was
practicable to convey a letter to thee, else I should long
ago have written; believing that it is not in the power
of circumstances, time, or absence to change that kind
heart.
I received the picture thou wast so kind as to send,
which is looked upon as a great curiosity; it was accom-
panied by a very polite letter from thy son.
We are
grieved that thou did not return from France in time.
Permit me to congratulate thee on thy marriage and the
birth of thy son. Again to share with a kindred mind
the sweets of domestic life must be a source of happi-
ness to thee as well as to thy fortunate consort. A
letter from thee would be delightful to my heart as well
as elevating to my vanity; for it would reinstate me in
150
CORRESPONDENCE OF MRS. TRENCH
that consideration from which I have sadly shrunk,
since I can give the inhabitants of Ballybarney no ac-
count from "the lady." Thus it is with borrowed
splendours!
Farewell, my friend; may all happiness attend thee
and thine.
MARY LEADBEATER.
V. FROM MRS. TRENCH.
Orleans, March, 1806.
My dear Mrs. Leadbeater,
I now flatter myself from many political ap-
pearances that our return cannot be long delayed; and
even should affairs take a contrary turn, and Mr. Trench
be forced to pass another year in this country, nothing
but some unforeseen event shall prevent me from being
in Ireland next summer; as, however painful it will
be to me to leave him, particularly in his present dis-
agreeable situation as detenu, the state of our affairs
from an unexpected and unforeseen absence of nearly
four years makes my return absolutely necessary.
I shall present you with a new acquaintance in the
person of a little boy now two years old, who appears
to me very intelligent, and is universally called very
handsome; but as the wit and sense of infants are
problematical, and their beauty of uncertain date, you
will be better pleased to hear that he possesses the
advantages more essential at his age of health, strength,
vivacity, and good humour. I hear as often from my
AND MRS. LEADBEATER.
151
son as the distance between us will allow; and he
writes as to a friend and confidante as well as to a
mother. Everything I hear from or of him tends to
console me for having given an unwilling consent to his
entering on a career I would not have chosen for him,
and removing to what may almost be considered as
another world. Adieu, my dear Mrs. Leadbeater, yours
faithfully,
MELESINA TRENCH.
VI.-FROM MRS. TRENCH,
Dublin, September, 1807.
My dear Mrs. Leadbeater,
I shall hope to see you any day most conve-
nient to you, and at any time after one o'clock, as I am
still confined to my room, and in some measure an
invalid. I have suffered many sorrows and escaped
many dangers since I last had the pleasure of seeing
you, and you will find me changed in every thing, I
fear, which formerly pleased you, except in the esteem
and affection with which you inspired your faithful
friend.
The "Remains of Henry Kirke White" I only know
from reviews. I have had for the last four years a debi-
lity of mind for which I find all melancholy reading un-
favourable. At some periods of life it may conduce to
mental health; at others, when we rather require tonics,
it is injurious, and more a foe than a friend to virtue.
152
CORRESPONDENCE OF MRS. TRENCH
VII. FROM MRS. LEADBEATER.
I am an instance of our liability to do those very
things against which we have exclaimed. I thought
nothing could induce me to print by subscription, and
it was not till I had pretty much determined on print-
ing, that I adopted this mode in compliance with the
advice of several intelligent friends, who assured me
that the risk of printing on my own account would be
very imprudent, and strove to remove my reluctance by
argument. But they have not been fully able to remove
it, and I was ashamed when I recollected that the let-
ters I had given thee would discover the fact to thee,
though I might have reflected that it will soon be gene-
rally known that thy assistance is most valuable, and
that we should never blush to receive the favours we
solicit.
sure.
Ag
I am, with sentiments of gratitude and affection,
thy obliged friend,
MARY LEADBEATER.
VIII.-FROM MRS. TRENCH.
I congratulate myself and your readers on the in-
tended publication of your verses, and I feel for the
embarrassment you suffer in giving us so much plea-
I am a little affronted at your not employing me
AND MRS. LEADBEATER
153
*
*
use.
in the same way as your other friends, and beg you will
now do so. Though I have at present few acquaint-
ances in Ireland, yet it is possible I may be of some
Be assured I think that as a wife and
mother it was your duty to publish in such a way as
left no possibility of your family's suffering any pecu-
niary loss by the bad taste of the public. The naiveté
of your little girl's telling you "how very snug she has
been since you went," shews a degree of sincerity and
confidence worth all the professions that could be in-
vented by the most polite governess.
I know not how to express my thanks for the affec-
tionate manner in which you enter into all my little
plans. I hear continually from each of my poor people
of your goodness to them, collectively and individually,
as well as of your general humanity to all your poor
neighbours. Indeed, my dear madam, you are a "bless-
ing to the country," if you will allow me to borrow
from the poor that common but expressive phrase.
Thanks for your recommendation of "Letters from
the Mountains," which I shall begin immediately. In
return, let me beg you to read "Corinne, ou l'Italie,"
by Madame de Staël, if you are a French as well as
Latin scholar, for you positively must not see the bril-
liant "Corinne" in her unbecoming English dress.
It is most wofully translated, but in French is a delight-
ful work, and, though full of faults, so much more full
of beauties, that you who are as candid a reader as you
are capable of being a fastidious one, will admire.
Dear friend, remember, no name of mine except the
154
CORRESPONDENCE OF MRS. TRENCH
heathenish one I received at christening may appear in
those lines by which you have distinguished me. As
to the verses in which your kind partiality has placed
me in a sphere far above my merits, I must beg you to
do exactly as you please. The partiality of a friend is
always excused, and this idea alone would prevent me
from apprehending great censure on their appearance.
Excuse great haste. I also "am in the fermentation of
domestic bustle." I thank you for that phrase-it is
so good I cannot resist adopting it.
IX.-FROM MRS. TRENCH.
My dear Mrs. Leadbeater,
Your kind letter found me safely deposited in
London with my babes, and in hourly expectation of
my son's arrival. A heavy cold, in consequence of tra-
velling through roads dug out of snow, combined with
other circumstances to delay my answer. We set out
in the softest, finest weather possible, but the very day
our journey began the snow began also, and locked us
up in a small and solitary inn, in the wildest part of
Wales, during four days-which, however, I passed
very pleasantly. I need not explain this to you, and to
many I could not explain it for I assure you that the
excess of pity which has been lavished on Mr. Trench
and me, for having been four days wholly dependent on
each other's society for amusement, has raised in me
many an inward smile, as being, while intended for
AND MRS. LEADBEATER.
155
"Dear me!
politeness, the very essence of rudeness.
(6
so you were four days in that terrible way! how you
"must have suffered from ennui !" &c. In vain I tell
people that I am not subject to ennui; they will con-
tinue to pity till I am more tired of them than they
could be of retirement. The only event of my jour-
ney was passing on the road one of my earliest female
friends and nearest relations, who, with her husband,
four children, and their tutor, was returning to Ireland
after about two years' residence in England. We did
not meet, and she was as long shut up by the snow as
I was in some neighbouring inn. We were in a great
measure brought up together, and have been faithful
friends our whole lives, so our meeting in that patri-
archal way—each accompanied by almost her whole
family-would have been a very joyous circumstance.
Now for a little trouble to you.
Will you
be
kind enough to explain this to once more, for you
know how mentally hard of hearing some of our country-
men appear. I certainly agree with you that they are
not ill-natured—but at the same time may I hazard an
opinion that though they are ever willing to relieve the
pressure of actual distress, they will not act as gene-
rously in preventing it as our English neighbours. Nor
are the higher classes in Ireland by any means so liberal
to their poorer relations and dependants; they will jo-
vially feed them-in England they pension, set them
up in business, &c.
*
I know that you will share in my expected happiness
when I tell you Charles is safely arrived and will pro-
156
CORRESPONDENCE OF MRS. TRENCH
bably reach London to-morrow. My anxiety and im-
patience are at present more painful than pleasant, and
I know of no better mode of calming them than by
writing to a friend. I thank you much for interesting
yourself so warmly about a school at Ballybarney. At
the same time I would much prefer uniting with others
in any scheme likely to succeed for a school on Mr.
Lancaster's plan, because I am conscious a simple
absentee can do very little; whereas my assistance and
subscription would be of tenfold benefit when aided by
the good sense and efforts of some person on the spot.
If a school could be set up equidistant from Ballybarney
and Ballitore, I think there are many in the neighbour-
hood would unite in assisting and conducting it.
wish you would think about this, and try whether any
persons whom you know are zealous on the subject,
and whether a school-room could be hired for the pre-
sent, as one would not build till one saw how it suc-
ceeded.
I
I have read Mrs. Grant, and am charmed with her
letters.
X.-FROM MRS. LEADBEATER.
Ballitore, 25th of Sixth-month, 1808.
Every pulse of my heart seemed to beat in unison
with thy proposal of the school. I do expect there
are many persons here zealous on the subject, and I
cannot help foreboding much good from the success
of this plan. I know there is a thirst for learning
AND MRS. LEADBEATER.
157
among the lower ranks. There is a young man here
who has, these several winters, after his day's labour,
kept a night-school in his father's house; the lads who
wish for improvement assemble there in the winter even-
ings, furnished with their own implements for learning,
one bringing a candle one night, another the next, and
so on, without paying anything for their instruction.
Thine,
S
M
MARY LEADBEATER.
XI. FROM MRS. TRENCH.
Bognor, August, 1808.
My son is now with me. He has entirely given
up the army, and resigned his captain's commission,
though he had the certainty of present promotion;
his tastes, views and strong spirit of independence not
perfectly according with that profession. He has
entered Cambridge, and will, I hope, be an assiduous.
student. He is everything I could wish, and though
he has lived so long absent from me, not one of the
slenderest fibres by which his early affections were
bound has been broken. In short, I am very thankful
for the great domestic blessings I enjoy.
A very strong alarm about our little Francis brought
me to the sea-shore, and I have been there two months
at one of the few bathing-places at once convenient and
retired. Bognor Rocks, as it is ambitiously named,
without an atom of romantic beauty, or a rock but
what is completely covered when the tide is in, is a
158
CORRESPONDENCE OF MRS. TRENCH
sweet, tranquil, sheltered, verdant spot, as yet uncon-
taminated by the frivolous habits of similar places of
resort. I live the life of a marine plant, vegetating,
and enjoying the feelings of renovated health both in
myself and child. I am now thoroughly convinced
that there are cases out of the reach of medicine in
which the sea-air alone may be a complete restorative.
I at least have felt it so, and I dread leaving it, as an
infant dreads quitting its nurse, and I think it very
probable that we may pass the winter months on some
part of the southern coast. Bognor is ill adapted for a
residence after October, and therefore the pilgrims who
seem doomed to ramble will then seek out another
abode. Two of my treasures are in Ireland. Since
their departure I have had a visit from a long-tried
friend, who is peculiarly pleasant as an inmate, from
her powers of amusing herself with work, books, exer-
cise, and a very extensive correspondence; so that she
never feels the necessity of being entertained as a visi-
tor. Indeed our present retirement affords no extrane-
ous source of amusement. We went last week to see
Goodwood, the Duke of Richmond's, and were parti-
cularly pleased with the pheasantry. It is a little dip,
if you will allow the phrase; nearly oval, almost on
the top of a high hill, and thickly planted all round
with trees and shrubs, the ground rising from it ab-
ruptly opposite the entrance, and more gradually at
each side. In the bottom lies the neat cottage of the
protector and guide of a most beautiful race of gold
and silver pheasants, who wander about apparently
AND MRS. LEADBEATER.
159
free from restraint; but alas! a few unseen feathers
have been clipped, which completely robbed them of
the liberty of quitting the little circuit allotted to them.
Goodwood is a very fine place, but its only distinctive
mark is this pheasantry and a dog kennel of such mag-
nificence as makes one blush-and also, which I had
forgot, the foolish freak of a dog's burying-place.
Faithfully yours,
M. T.
XII. FROM MRS. LEADBEATER.
Ballitore, 2nd of Tenth-month, 1808.
My kind friend's letter felt to me like a beam of light
shining through the gloom of the sick-bed on which I
lay. I have had a kind of bilious fever, I believe not
dangerous; but having been favoured with health, sel-
dom interrupted all my life, my friends and myself are
more alarmed than is needful; however, I am now
recovering.
I gave notice of the continuance of the garden premi-
ums, and of the additional guinea for the neatest house,
which I told them was not difficult to win. I also
warned them that I should not wait for the time of
judging gardens, but should come upon them without
any further warning, that so we might see who was
most habitually decent. I am in great hopes this spur
to emulation will have good and lasting effects, for who
that has once tasted the comfort of cleanliness can sit
down contented in dirt?
160
CORRESPONDENCE OF MRS. TRENCH
I could not read thy description of the pheasantry,
&c., at Goodwood without recollecting Peter Pindar's
severity on the late duke, and his touching picture of
the poor soldier. I have just got a loan for an hour of
my friend Juliet Smith's daughter's book. It is enti-
tled, "Fragments in Prose and Verse, by a Young Lady
lately deceased, with some account of her life and cha-
racter." The book is a picture of the lovely writer. I
have also got "Corinne, ou l'Italie," and have made.
some way in the second volume. I am not mistress
enough of the language to read it with rapidity and ease;
at the same time the interest of the story hurries me
along, and I can discern very striking and peculiar beau-
ties, whether in the description of Rome, its environs
and its antiquities, &c., which are placed before us in a
most lively manner, or in the singular characters. I
cannot but regret the story and the fate of Corinne.
Why should not she be united to Oswald? She is a
charming creature, but might not her example be dan-
gerous? Might not a young, beautiful, and vain woman,
ungifted with Corinne's mind, imagine herself the coun-
terpart of this enchanting model, and long to exhibit
to public gaze her graces and accomplishments!
Thy stock of medicine for the poor is far from being
exhausted. It is surprising how little assistance, when
joined with faith, is useful. I intend, however, to make
some additions, and also to procure some useful seeds.
Hast thou read the "Antidote to the Miseries of Human
Life"? I think it is a tale capitally told. I wish all
Quakers were such as the heroine !
Farewell, my highly esteemed friend.
AND MRS. LEADBEATER.
161
XIII. FROM MRS. TRENCH.
San
October, 1808.
My dear Mrs. Leadbeater,
It grieves me to hear you have been indis-
posed. When any of my friends enjoy habitually good
health, I am apt to forget they are vulnerable to pain
and sickness. I hope you have not taken much medi-
cine, and that you will be in the situation of Madame
de Sevigne, who says that, having had no physician in
her illness, she had only to recover from her sickness,
and not from her remedies; or, as she much better ex-
presses it, "Je n'ai qu'a me guerir de mon mal, et non
pas de mes remedes." Your short criticism on Corinne
appears to me to go more directly to the point, and
describe more exactly the real danger of the work, than
all the pages which have been spun out on the subject.
I cannot but acknowledge its perfect justice. The other
work you mention I was delighted with, and often
applied the character of Mrs. Placid, saying to myself,
"I have a Mrs. Placid of my own, who would be as much
admired as this one, if she were as publicly known, and
is still more highly gifted by nature and education." I
took the hint of pickling cabbage from the "Reports,"
which mention it as being done advantageously by
cottagers; I send you the receipt. Corinne and pickled
cabbage. Did she ever expect to be so paired? She
VOL. II.-11
162
CORRESPONDENCE OF MRS. TRENCH
who says waste lands are an interesting sight, and that
she loves a noble uselessness: "J'aime cette noble
inutilité."
I have torn off the page, which followed what you have
just read, as it contained nothing but a croak upon the
mischief I feared I had been doing.. I had seen a sen-
sible and well-intentioned person, who gave me a very
gloomy picture of Ballybarney; told me I had spoiled
labourers, without making artizans or farmers, and had
rendered land almost useless and unproductive, which
in good hands might have been cultivated to the highest
state of improvement, from its favourable situation as to
markets, &c.; in short, that I had added to the poverty
and idleness of poor Ireland, at a great loss to myself
and family. However, if this be true or even half true,
self-reproach will not mend it, and therefore I will spare
you the pain of seeing the uneasiness this exhortation
gave me at the moment. I approve very much of your
purchase of seeds. Medicines, seeds, any books they
can understand, and little premiums to industry and
prosperity, which in that class is almost always a proof
of good conduct and sobriety, are the channels in which
I should most wish to try my powers of being useful.
Believe me unalterably yours,
M. T.
AND MRS. LEADBEATER.
163
XIV. FROM MRS. TRENCH.
Dublin, 13th June, 1809.
My dear Mrs. Leadbeater,
I will not trouble you with an account of the
various mishaps which deprived me of your Poems till
my arrival here. It was, indeed, a great pleasure de-
ferred. Their softness and refinement, both of ideas
and language, are delightful, and they abound with
strokes of the true pathetic. Burke's letters to you are
highly interesting, and I am glad you have found such
suitable niches for them. The address you have honour-
ed me with is so gratifying to my feelings, that all
vanity at being over-praised is lost in more pleasurable
sensations. Our friends may commend us above our
deserts without corrupting our hearts, because we know
their opinions must be attributed to partiality, and can-
not be shared by any indifferent person. I am sorry to
hear your feelings have been hurt by criticisms. Re-
member to "consider them only as burrs thrown on us
in the way of holiday foolery," and also that “if we
walk not in the trodden path, our very petticoats will
catch them." Is not this overbalanced by having step-
ed into an untrodden path of greater beauty and fra-
grance, and collected in it a very delightful choice of
sweets?
Why should we not have a Friendly Society on the
plan of some of the English ones, where labourers and
II*
164
CORRESPONDENCE OF MRS. TRENCH
artizans might deposit their savings, and others be
admitted as honorary members? I think your neigh-
bourhood might furnish such an association. The
"Reports of the Society for bettering the condition of
the Poor" give us models which we might alter at
pleasure.
Yours very faithfully,
XV.-FROM MRS. LEADBEATER.
M. T.
Ballitore, 15th of Sixth-month, 1809.
My much-esteemed friend,
To receive undoubted assurance that thou art
in the same island with me, and that I have a chance
of seeing thee in the course of the summer, is indeed
very gratifying.
I hope soon to judge the houses; the change of wea-
ther has been unfavourable; they must have fair play
and sunshine. I am quite a friend to planting a few
trees in the vicinity of the cottages. Each occupant
will protect his own, and they will greatly improve the
look of the village. The propensity of our peasantry to
destroy young trees will thus be checked, for he who
plants a tree generally loves it. The Benefit Society,
or Friendly Society, has long been near my heart. An-
other valuable friend of mine, William P. Le Fanu, is
anxious also for such a society, and to have a school
established here. W. P. Le Fanu is a most extraordinary
AND MRS. LEADBEATER.
165
man.
He receives the sick poor three times a week in
a room in this village; he spends hours with them.
They are ready to break in the partition, for he admits
but one at a time, and that one he hears with the
patience of a Job.
I am highly flattered by thy opinion of my book,
and perceive with gratitude thy kind endeavour to
reconcile me to my fate of being roughly handled by
the Eclectic Review. I have been censured for inserting
Edmund Burke's letters to me, and I do not wonder I
should, but I did so by persuasion. Thy approval is a
consolation. I have read the reviews in the Cyclopedian
and Belfast Magazines. While I turned over the leaves
of the first I met with, I found that one may live long
in the world and yet experience new sensations; I
could not define mine at the time. I am now on the
point of stepping into public view in the form of " Anec-
dotes taken from Real Life, for the Improvement of
Children." This little book, which is now in the press,
will not be printed by subscription. A few cuts are
to embellish it. They were designed by some young
friends of mine, the charming daughters of the rector
of Dunlavin, and cousins to my friend W. P. Le Fanu.
Their father is a clergyman of celebrity and worth; he
has educated them himself, and has cultivated their
understanding by classic lore; but there is such youth-
ful modesty, perfect simplicity, and freedom from affec-
tation in their manners, that one would not suspect
their rare attainments, though it is easy to see through
that charming veil the lustre of genius. The engraver
166
CORRESPONDENCE OF MRS. TRENCH
has not done their sketches all the justice they deserve,
but he has succeeded pretty well. W. P. Le Fanu encou-
raged me to publish this little work, has written the
introduction, and superintends the printing of it.
MARY LEADBEATER.
XVI.-FROM MRS. TRENCH.
July, 1809.
Many thanks, dear Mrs. Leadbeater, for your offer of
ornamenting my present of forest trees by your kind
addition of "laburnums, lilacs, and tall shrubs," which,
however, I fear will prove pearls before-I will not say
what, out of respect to my village, which never was
dignified by that name till now.
I am sorry your friend Mr. Le Fanu gives up so great
a portion of his life and health as thrice a week's indis-
criminate reception of the sick poor must dispose of;
and I regret it for the following reasons: first, because
they have so great a love of talking, that many feign
sickness, or exaggerate trifling complaints for the plea-
sure of being listened to; and next, because the hope
of receiving charitable aid produces the same effect; in
both which cases the listener devotes much time and
anxiety capable of being better employed. I knew
one of the best of women who lost numerous hours in
this way, which, if devoted to the encouragement of
industry and education, would have sowed the seeds of
infinite good; and, on clearing away a quantity of weeds
AND MRS. LEADBEATER.
167
(which no one expected would be removed) in the neigh-
bourhood of her house, the greater portion of the medi-
cine, pills, and blisters which she had given for a consi-
derable time were found thrown away; and often, as
was acknowledged by the servants, with abuse to the
donor, "for putting off poor people with such things."
If the Irish were the most sickly instead of the most
healthy people in the universe, I hardly think the envi-
rons of Ballitore would furnish patients for an attend-
ance so close as your friend's. Do prevail on him to
save himself a little.
I cannot conceive on what grounds any one can
blame your publishing Mr. Burke's letters; every frag-
ment of him must be precious. I have not met a single
person who is not delighted with it, and particularly
pleased to see the great man in an easy attitude, affec-
tionately conversing with the daughter of the friend of
his childhood. You have the sanction not merely of
custom, but (if that were necessary) even of fashion;
for almost every card of compliment written by a per-
son in any way remarkable is now given to the public,
and read with an avidity excited by no other species of
literature. If you possess any more such, I beg we may
have them.
S
Pray let me know Mr. Le Fanu's address when he
comes to Dublin, that if he cannot find time to call on
me, Mr. Trench and my son may wait on him. I feel
very desirous of his acquaintance, and thankful to you
for having procured it for your so often obliged
M. TRENCH.
168
CORRESPONDENCE OF MRS. TRENCH.
F
XVII.-FROM MRS. LEADBEATER.
23rd of Seventh-month, 1809.
As to my excellent friend, William P. Le Fanu, I
have not been without my fears that he was running
his race early, and that it would too soon terminate ;
yet may not the activity of benevolence injure the
health less than the activity of what is generally called
pleasure? This young man, with talents and accom-
plishments fitted to shine in any circle, and with much
native vivacity and pleasantness, devotes at least twelve
hours every week to the exclusive service of the sick
poor. I think he might be in danger of his life from
the press did he not admit but one at a time into his
reception-room, but they thrust against the partition so
as to endanger its safety, and gaze in through the chinks
at him. Sore sorry should I be if the immediate neigh-
bourhood of Ballitore furnished patients for such an
attendance; but they come many miles on horses, on
cars; and a man who comes ten miles for advice, and
who pays for his drugs, can have but one motive for
the journey. My friend has taken every precaution
against imposition. He has accurately studied the
science of medicine, by which he knows whether their
complaints are real or not; and he makes those who
can afford it pay for the medicines. He sees everything
with his own eyes; he mingles with the people he
assists, enters into their feelings, investigates their
AND MRS. LEADBEATER.
169
wants, and appreciates their claims; and he is happy
to say that, after some thousands of experiments, the
result has been favourable to the Irish character. Even
in his absence, the advice which he communicated to
me concerning some sick persons was the means of
restoring them from the brink of the grave. So, my
much valued friend, thou mayest see that those medical
hours are truly well and usefully employed.
Yesterday afternoon I went to Ballybarney with a
guinea-note in my pocket, and some friends beside me,
to assist me in adjudging the premium for the house.
We had a beautiful evening, and our spirits enjoyed
unalloyed delight, which, when I set my foot upon the
Ballybarney estate, was mingled in my mind with a
proper sense of my own consequence as Vice-Roy or
Vice-Reine, and I was hailed with pleasant looks and
smiles. "The Queen of the May" had her new house
finely got up and very decent; her garden is bedecked
with flowers, arbours, cherry-trees, and a sun-dial, near
which several sunflowers are raising their heads, and I
imagine that planting them there was judged a happy
thought, and their defeating the intent of the dial has
never occurred to her. We were enraptured with the
appearance of industry, neatness, content, and indepen-
dence which thy village affords. Leaving this house, I
left my consequence behind, and shrunk into the origi-
nal insignificance of thy much obliged friend,
MARY LEADBEATER.
P.S.-Hast thou read Colonel Hutchinson's Life,
170
CORRESPONDENCE OF MRS. TRENCH
written by his admirable Lady? I suppose "Gertrude
of Wyoming" has met thy approbation? How touch-
ing is the silent agony of the husband, over whom his
Indian friend throws his mantle !
XVIII.-FROM MRS. TRENCH.
September, 1809.
My dear Mrs. Leadbeater,
The gloves you have sent me are like the work
of fairy hands, of the most perfect neatness and finish.
Shoemaking was the work of the ladies where I have
been visiting; and, as it is managed, is neither trouble-
some or dirty. All the implements are contained in a
round box about one foot in diameter and one foot high,
and the art is very easily learned. It is the fashionable
work at present, and I wish this whim may in time lead
to throwing it into female hands, to which the making
of neat shoes for women and children is particularly
suited. Indeed, employment of this kind is much
wanted for our sex. As a piece of female economy in
families who live much in the world, it has its use, as a
pair of shoes which would cost nine shillings is made
for three in about two days. Your ideas of "Gertrude
of Wyoming" accord exactly with my own. It is a
delightful poem, and speaks powerfully to the heart and
imagination. I was greatly disappointed in "Madoc,"
which I have but just read. What a strange delight
Southey takes in wounds and tortures. I would almost
AND MRS. LEADBEATER.
171
as soon visit the inquisition or witness a boxing match
as read it again. I have been much interested in many
of your
"Anecdotes." The preface bears the marks of
being by another hand, and I think I should have
known it untold. Persevere, my dear friend, and let
the approbation of a Burke console you for the illiberal
criticism of the Eclectic Review, for it is surely illiberal
to dismiss a work with a general criticism, which might
be made by one who had not read or heard of it; and,
as it neither introduces any discussion nor makes any
I
remark, can in no way serve the cause of literature.
have seen an interesting letter from Hannah More on
the subject of "Cœlebs," and was greatly pleased with
the candour and simplicity of her sentiments and style.
She says it has gone through ten large editions, and has
been the means of sending many readers to "the best
of books;" but she apologises for the marks it bears of
having been written when her health and spirits were
somewhat impaired, and she owns that the lady may
have been right who said it was a bad novel and a
bad sermon." Faithfully yours,
"C
XIX. FROM MRS. LEADBEATER.
M. T.
Ballitore, 25th of Ninth-month, 1809.
My dear friend,
I am glad the gloves pleased thee; the hands
which made them were long unskilled in the business
172
CORRESPONDENCE OF MRS. TRENCH
of the needle, and better used to planting and picking
potatoes; but their progress in this art proves the apti-
tude and ingenuity of our country folk. I wish the
scheme of female shoemakers may succeed.
I never read "Madoc." I read "Thalaba" hurriedly,
and it appeared to me very confused. I don't know
what to think of Southey. I have admired some of his
little detached pieces, but others of them are shocking.
Hast thou read "Henry Kirke White's Remains?" We
are much pleased with it here. After having mentioned
those eminent writers, let me descend and request thou
would consent to peruse in manuscript a series of "Dia-
logues" which I ventured to write for the instruction
of the lower classes. I have taken two characters whom
I know for the models of Rose and Nancy. The dia-
logues are for the most part between them; now and
then the husbands get leave to speak, and the children.
Fairs, wakes, tobacco, whiskey, and many other subjects
are discussed. After these come dialogues between the
ladies Seraphina and Charlotte.
Thy ever affectionate,
MARY LEADBEATER.
XX. FROM MRS. TRENCH.
3rd October, 1809.
I am very much pleased with the prospect you give
me of co-operating in an undertaking so useful as yours
appears to be; and having now a little leisure, I shall
AND MRS. LEADBEATER.
173
be happy, dear Mrs. Leadbeater, to devote it to offering
you some additions to your volume, if any remarks
happen to strike me which have escaped your more exer-
cised and better judgment. At all events I beg you to
favour me with the manuscript, and I will promise you
my sincere opinion. I am glad you are about to appear
again before the public. Your verses in Miss Bowdler's
"Fragments" breathe that softness, taste, and refinement
which characterize all you have written. What a cha-
racter is drawn in that little volume of your angelic
friend Elizabeth Smith, who shines a bright luminary
amongst our brightest females. Even without her learn-
ing she would have been admirable. Miss Bowdler has
cheated the London world into reading two improving
and religious works, while they only sought for memoirs
of an interesting girl, and a little gossip relative to
Klopstock. Meta's letters to Richardson, the novelist,
I had already selected from his correspondence, as pre-
cious stores from a bundle of remnants, and I am glad
they are now placed amongst their peers. Your admi-
ration of "Gertrude of Wyoming" is not greater than
my own. There is an exquisite sensibility in some pas-
sages, and a pomp of poetical diction united with ap-
parent truth of descriptive painting in others, which
cover all the faults of its meagre, disjointed, improbable
narrative, and its occasional obscurity. The long suspen-
sion of the meaning of the sentence from the beginning
of a stanza to its conclusion occurs too often to suffer it
ever to be a popular poem; those to whom verse is not
familiar are constantly obliged to seek for his meaning.
174
CORRESPONDENCE OF MRS. TRENCH
However, the condensed beauties of "Gertrude are
numerous, and particularly to be admired at present,
when the art of saying much in few words seems almost
forgotten. How stupid and narrow-minded my remarks
on Mr. Le Fanu must have appeared to you, who being
in the habit of seeing him, cannot be surprised at the
rare combination of knowledge, prudence, and energy
he seems to possess. I have myself, in spite of an early
introduction into the world, so much reluctance to form
new acquaintances, and a great degree of mauvaise honte
at a first meeting with those whom I have been taught
to respect, that I felt precisely the same feeling about
an introduction to Mr. L. as you describe in him.
However, like all cowards, I grow insolent on finding
others afraid of me, and therefore am now even more
impatient than before to make his acquaintance since
my feelings of apprehension are neutralized. If the
assurance that I did not write a play will divest me of
some of the terrors I inspired, I can give it most safely.
I once arranged some scenes on the story of Palemon
and Lavinia, to be played by Mrs. Sheridan and me, and
our children. Its literary merit did not entitle it to the
name of a play; and it never reached the honours of
performance, as a violent influenza fell amongst us
while it was in preparation. Through Mrs. Sheridan I
have often heard of the family of Le Fanu, and always
as persons of distinguished talents. You have shown
them to me in a light still more attractive.
""
I must tell you of a little school in Portarlington,
and give you an exact account of its management and
AND MRS. LEADBEATER.
175
expenditure, as many people are frightened from under-
takings of charity by ignorance and exaggerated ideas
of their expense. My friend hired a lodging-room in
an upper floor, and a school-room on a ground floor in
the same house, for six pounds a year—the lower apart-
ment for the school, the upper for the mistress. She
allowed the mistress six pounds a year for her time on
all week days from nine o'clock in the morning till three
in the afternoon. Reading, writing, and plain work
were taught. The girls, twelve in number, were soon
ready to take in plain work, of which they got abun-
dance, but at a very low price, as the work was not so
critically good as in the shops. The profits of this
formed a fund to assist in clothing them; and they were
also employed in making up baby-linen and other arti-
cles of dress, which were sold at low prices and proved
a great accommodation to the neighbouring poor, par-
ticularly the cheap baby-linen. To this fund my friend
added what was necessary to purchase the materials of
plain clothing which they made up for themselves, and
the total expense was from thirty pounds to thirty
guineas annually for twelve girls, none of which left
the school till fit to be apprentices or servants.
Ever most faithfully yours,
M. T.
176
CORRESPONDENCE OF MRS. TRENCH.
XXI. FROM MRS. TRENCH.
1809.
My dear friend,
Your last work is delightful, and I am charmed
to think we shall have you again in print. The press
gives one a firm property in the mental exertions of
those we love. I hope my eyes will allow me to finish
the "Dialogues" to-morrow. I presume Rose and Nancy
are to be published separately, and without a preface.
It were a pity they should not produce their full effect
by appearing alone, and a preface to a work of instruc-
tion generally diminishes its utility, by letting the in-
structed too much behind the curtain. The dialogues
for ladies and gentlemen should certainly not be in the
same work. I have a fancy some one at Ballybarney
should open a little shop, and sell a few articles of daily
necessity. If lending five pounds to Mrs. Costello to
begin with would be necessary, I have no objection,
provided you take her husband's note for it; as I nei-
ther intend it for a gift, nor wish she should suppose it
to be one. You see I am, like Frederick II., Buonaparte,
and various tyrannical great men, endeavouring to force
a trade.
I have just gone through your second series, and
think it a very admirable and useful work. It cannot
be so much so as the first, for obvious reasons. It is
one of many other excellent productions of the same
AND MRS. LEADBEATER.
177
species, while "Rose and Nancy" is a work that stands
alone, and is perfectly original both in design and exe-
cution. I am charmed with your last poem, in which
there is much sweetness, grace, and novelty. One or two
of the subjects have I believe been hitherto untouched
in poetry, and offered no small difficulty-particularly
the description of the little chimney-sweeper, where you
have completely vanquished all the obstacles that lay in
your way, and presented a picture equal in fidelity and
pathos. I now speak only from a first perusal, as my
time has not been my own since I arrived here, but I
hope soon to read it again, with the difficult task before
me of searching for something to find fault with. Your
too favourable introduction of your friend Melesina I
am not capable of discussing as I ought, having seen
that it brought tears of pleasure into those eyes where
I have sought for the principal part of my happiness
during the last seven years. Accept, however, my grate-
ful thanks for the warmth of those feelings which have
thrown around me a portion of their own lustre. Your
description of the chimney-sweeper reminds me that
Mr. F. T. told me that a child of this description had
in his house been so entangled in a heap of rubbish,
which fell on him in the exercise of his dreadful task,
as to be unable to move, and threatened with imme-
diate destruction. It was after he had been long in
this situation that the master of the house was informed
of it. There appeared to be no possibility of assisting
him from above or below. On his ordering the wall to
be broken on the outside, so as to release him in that
VOL. II.—T2.
178
CORRESPONDENCE OF MRS. TRENCH
way, the servants remonstrated strongly on the folly of
injuring the house and taking so much trouble for one
who was "only a little sweep!" He was released before
any fatal consequence ensued, but a few minutes longer
of confinement would probably have terminated his
existence. This is a shocking story, particularly in the
indifference it displays to the life of a fellow-creature,
so often shown in the uneducated class of this kingdom.
Thank God, the new machines for sweeping chimneys
are making their way in London. I know of their
having been successfully used in a very great, and a
very small London residence-at Carlton House, and at
the comparatively humble dwelling of Mr. Smart the
musician; so I hope they will be found universally con-
venient. We want an institution in Ireland similar to
that formed in London for this unfortunate class.
When I once mentioned to a French gentleman of some
consequence, that the late Duke of Bedford was at the
head of a society formed for the relief of climbing boys,
his reply was," What a mean and low occupation for a
duke!-fi donc !" I know you like every anecdote,
however trifling, that gives you an idea of what France
appeared to be when I left it. May I beg if the school
has really commenced, that as soon as it arrives at four
scholars you will procure a bench fit for the purpose, to
be lent by me to the school-mistress. I think I had
better give her a small stock of needles and thread to
start with, and, if she can teach marking, half-a-dozen
samplers. I know you will provide them for me if you
approve.
AND MRS. LEADBEATER.
179
If
you should see any of the
family, except
the poor dying father, it would be kind to strengthen
the assurance I gave them that it was only so long as
he lived they could remain rent free. I find he has a
son grown up, yet the wife hinted a hope of remaining
on the same terms; and it would be a very weak en-
couragement on my part, to want of exertion. Indeed
I am so sure the hope of it would diminish even now
the industry of the family, that I wish them not to in-
dulge it for a moment. I think it in general a baneful
species of charity, and have an instance of it in a family
who have held gratuitously four acres of good ground
longer than I can remember, under my grandfather's
will as well as in his lifetime, and yet they have never
risen above the level of the commonest labourers about
them. I think you would perform a good action, which,
being habitual to you, would probably give you pleasure,
and I should be much obliged. Farrell's wife came to
me on Sunday, and showed much equivocation and arti-
fice; but till more general pains are taken with the
education of our poor, we cannot expect them to be
truth-tellers, and while we leave the formation of their
principles to the priests, we must be prepared to find
them bigots.
Pray be so good as to let me know when my little
deposit is out, that I may send more. All I beg, my
dear friend, is that you will follow your own excellent
judgment, and not burthen yourself with more trouble
than what unavoidably attends on the part you have
accepted; therefore do not teaze yourself with asking
I2*
180
CORRESPONDENCE OF MRS. TRENCH.
my opinion except when it falls in your way to do so
accidentally, for you may be sure I shall think all you do
better done than it could have been by me.
I have just seen, on a visit to Lord Clancarty, the
most ornamental effects resulting from his not permit-
ting holes or dunghills before the cabin doors. His
brother is justice of the peace, and regularly enforces
the law by fining the owners; the fine being applied to
a fund for purchasing clothes for the poor. But I be-
lieve this can be done only in towns or villages; and
at all events, as ours is a labour of love, we do not wish
to enforce, but to persuade their removal; we must con-
stitute them utter disabilities to receiving any premium.
XXII.-FROM MRS. TRENCH.
January 2nd, 1810.
I have never seen Miss Edgeworth, which I do not
very much regret-having been invariably disappointed,
whenever I have greatly admired a book, on being intro-
duced to its author. This may partly be my own fault,
but I believe it is so common a feeling, that those to
whom admiration gives pleasure ought rather to wish
to retain their idea of a favourite writer than to ex-
change it for reality. You might say this was "sour
grapes!" if I did not also acknowledge that if an oppor-
tunity offered of making acquaintance with a person so
distinguished and of such eminent talents as Miss Edge-
worth, I should certainly embrace it. So my little
theory will never deprive me of any positive pleasure,
AND MRS. LEADBEATER.
181
and only serves to save me from unavailing wishes. I
am just going to read Sir Jonah Barrington, which,
being a borrowed book, admits of no delay. I have
lately read an extract from it in a new Dublin Maga-
zine, "The Monthly Panorama," containing the charac-
ter of Lord Clare. It bears a great resemblance to the
style of "The State of Ireland past and present," and I
feel a strong conviction that both are from the same
hand. You know the author of the last publication
has never been discovered; and it is asserted Sir Jonah
did not write his own work.
You will smile at my Irish bull, but you will com-
prehend my meaning, and I will not correct this proof
of my being a true-born Irishwoman.
Ever your attached,
XXIII FROM MRS. TRENCH.
M. T.
February 7th, 1810.
My dear Mrs. Leadbeater,
There is a species of consolation to be ex-
tracted from dwelling on the merits and even the graces
of departed friends, and it is easy to see that it is im-
planted for the wisest purposes; and that if it did not
exist, the memory of all those virtues that adorn private
life would rapidly decay, instead of proving, as it often
does, the seed of fresh and perhaps superior merits in
the survivors.
Last October I made a visit to Heywood, the beauti-
ful demesne of which you have heard so just an account,
182
CORRESPONDENCE OF MRS. TRENCH
and in despite of hearing much previous praise lavished
on that enchanting spot, I found it exceed my expecta-
tions. Nothing that the hand of taste can execute is
there omitted, and though some complain that art has
been too lavish, and too nicely trim in her embellish-
ments, yet I own she did not appear to me to overstep the
limits of taste. The beautiful and comfortable cottages
the proprietor has built for his labourers do honour to
his heart. To these his four daughters are daily visitors.
Praise when due, and silence when blame is deserved,
is their favourite maxim of police; and I believe where
daily inspection is practised, the rule may be a good
one. They are very active in the encouragement of
manufactures amongst their cottagers, and have found
stuffs and wicker-work succeed best. Miss T has
got a loom, and wore a stuff of her own weaving while
I was there, in order to show that it is an employment
suitable to women.
I had the pleasure of hearing at your bookseller's that
the whole edition of your "Anecdotes" was sold. If
you
print a second edition perhaps you will omit the second
picture, as it tends to connect in a child's mind the
association of fear with that kind and faithful animal,
the dog. Perhaps, too, the ideas relative to death recur
rather too frequently. Young minds cannot be too
strongly impressed with ideas of the power and good-
ness of God and of our being accountable beings; but
it may be doubted whether we should lead them to the
contemplation of the last scene of existence till a more
advanced period.
AND MRS. LEADBEATER.
183
I found great amusement in Hayley's Life of Cowper,
though it is easy to see the writer has not made the
most of so very interesting a subject.
You will have looked in vain for my name at the
Irish court.
She proved the pomp of courts, and found it vain,
is literally true, though surrounded by so many errors
in judgment, arising from the partiality of friendship,
that being in bad company may make its truth disputed.
I had intended to be presented this winter, but forgot
the date of the drawing-room till it was too late to make
up the appropriate dress, and without being presented
at a previous drawing-room I cannot go to the birth-day,
which I now intend to pass with my good and pleasant
friends Mr. and Mrs. La Touche.
Faithfully and affectionately yours.
XXIV. FROM MRS. TRENCH.
February 25th, 1810.
My dear friend,
Perhaps few have ever written thoroughly
good and musical prose, who did not at some time or
other exercise their pens in verse. Experience seems
to corroborate this, and it is a strong motive for en-
couraging poetical attempts.
You will see that Mr. Wellesley Pole interests him-
* Quoted from a poem by Mrs. Leadbeater; see page 146.
184
CORRESPONDENCE OF MRS. TRENCH
self about our prisons. While here he was most active
on the subject, and exerted himself in liberating from
Newgate females confined for small offences, twelve of
whom he removed to the Penitentiary, and employed in
weaving, by which they now earn something consider-
able, and enjoy the hope of being restored to society as
useful members.
I saw Mrs. Disney yesterday, and she wishes to
know whether, if the Association took 250 copies of
"Rose and Nancy," it would encourage you to publish.
She admires the work very much, and thinks it would
be the most useful that has yet appeared. I could not
collect from her any sort of criticism, except a wish
that you had "entered more upon those broad truths of
Christianity which are common to all denominations of
Christians." I said I supposed you feared the priests
might discourage its general circulation if it bore in any
shape the character of a religious work.
XXV. FROM MRS. LEADBEATER.
G
Ballitore, 28th of Third-month, 1810.
I have the pleasure, dear friend, of informing thee
that this day I paid a visit to Ballybarney; I hope in
the conclusion to mutual satisfaction, though at first the
inhabitants were startled lest I was coming as a judge,
and this being the busy time of planting potatoes, they
had not time to set their houses in order. They, how-
ever, looked very decent upon the whole, and the
gardens are much improved.
AND MRS. LEADBEATER.
185
I wanted to prevail upon Esther Costello to accept
casement windows for her cabin, but could not effect
my purpose-" four panes were so much prettier ;" so
four panes she is to have, but I insist upon their
opening. I believe my partiality for the casement
window originates in the association of ideas; for my
aunt Carleton's and my aunt Fuller's kitchens were thus
lighted; and one of these used to admit the light to
each end of our meeting-house, and has often beguiled
the "longsome hours," by throwing the shadow of the
trees in the grove in a fanciful manner into my view when
seated in silence. Sometimes I thought those reflec-
tions of light and shade belonged to heaven or heavenly
things, and I looked upon them with awe.
XXVI. FROM MRS. TRENCH.
April 4th, 1810.
After a most prosperous voyage, both by sea and
land, your friends, dear Mrs. Leadbeater, reached their
home as expeditiously as the youth of their fellow-
travellers would admit, considering also that they do
not adopt the fashion of hurrying through every common
journey as if the fate of empires depended on their
speed. I have found my son quite well. He left Cam-
bridge for two days in order to pass them with me.
Nothing shows more strongly the fallacy of common
opinion on the mode of life calculated to make a very
young man happy, than his present animation and
186
CORRESPONDENCE OF MRS. TRENCH
cheerfulness in a college life of study and comparative
retirement,—and his low spirits while a boy, aid-de-
camp to an uncle in one of the highest military situations
in India, where he was surrounded by pomp, luxury,
and festivities of every kind, and, according to the usual
habits of oriental living, attended by fourteen servants,
when he was little more than so many years old. Now
he derives amusement from every passing occurrence,
and his pencil continually furnishes him with scenes of
humour, and, at times, of just and legitimate satire.
You have beautifully and poetically described the
origin of your partiality to casement windows. I be
lieve the reflections of light and shade from waving
foliage to be universally captivating to persons of an
awakened fancy. My little Frederick, at about two
years of age, was so struck by this reflection on a sunny
floor, as it suddenly appeared on the opening of a door,
which at once admitted the beams and the shade of the
waving branches, that he cried out, with one of those
looks that would have been called inspired in the days
of fable, "Voilà le vent qui entre!" For the present
we may as well have your favourite windows in the
new house.
I am now relieved from my long fast as to reading.
You know the difficulty of getting books in Dublin,
even to buy; and I, who have already so many, and so
little space wherein to put them, wish only to hire the
majority of those I read, which is out of the question
in Dublin, as it does not afford as good a circulating
library as is found down to the sixth-rate provincial
AND MRS. LEADBEATER.
187
towns here. In London, a guinea a quarter gives one
everything one can wish. I have read “Madoc” again,
and, having conquered my first disgust at its various
and striking faults, I find in it so many poetical beauties,
that I must atone for my fastidiousness by giving it an
opportunity of being read by you. I have also taken
the liberty of directing to you a copying book, which
I hope may be of some convenience to you, and will
certainly give some pleasure to your friends, as it will
preserve a duplicate of everything you wish without
any additional trouble.
You must not be angry to hear that we are in treaty
for a house in Hampshire, nor think it will divide us
more from Ireland; we mean to part with our London
residence, and, probably, shall not live more in England
than Anglo-Irish are destined to do. I must place my-
self in this class. My most beloved grandfather, with
whom all my earliest habits were formed, was English.
You will not wonder that we give up our London
house. The high degree of domestic happiness with
which Providence has blessed us unfits us in every
respect for the mode of living adopted in a great town,
and I consider it as peculiarly unfavourable to the
health of my children. You must forgive our not
settling in Ireland.
Affectionately yours,
M. TRENCH.
188
CORRESPONDENCE OF MRS. TRENCH
XXVII. -FROM MRS. LEADBEATER.
Ballitore, 10th of Fourth-month, 1810.
Thy account of thy son does not surprise me. A
heart so noble and so pure as his, even in childhood,
and surrounded by the state and splendour which
dazzle weak minds, would often, "distrusting, ask if
this be joy." He is happy in the examples set before
him, and the love and confidence which allure youth to
virtue. I believe the sternness of parental authority
has done as much harm as its laxity.
I hope by this time "Rose and Nancy" is at Ard-
braccan, and that I shall have not only the opinion of
the Bishop of Meath and his lady, but of Maria Edge-
worth. I intend to publish by subscription, and in the
manner thou recommendest. Thou hast answered the
objection to the want of religion to a wish. It is a
holy theme, and I am afraid to touch it.
Betsy Shackleton will have pleasure in teaching the
six girls from Ballybarney. This is better than em-
ploying the teacher, as Betsy's methods are much the
best. This plan is not for the purpose of saving thy
pocket, but for giving the best instruction.
What can be the reason Dublin is so deficient in
store of literature? I fear the Union has been an
enemy to science here-it has taken so many away
who encouraged it.
Thy obliged and affectionate friend,
M. LEADBEATER.
AND MRS. LEADBEATER.
189
XXVIII. FROM MRS. LEADBEATER.
M
Ballitore, 17th of Fifth-month, 1810.
My truly kind friend,
I received "Madoc" about three days ago.
I had intended to read it deliberately, and husband the
pleasure it gave me, but the farther I read the more
interest was excited, and the difficulty of laying by the
volume increased; at breakfast, at tea, the book lay on
my chair, and between every cup it was taken up.
finished it, resolving to go step by step over it again.
I
My MS. was returned from Ardbraccan with words
of decided approbation. The title is to be "Cottage
Dialogues"-suggested by the Bishop of Meath. His
lady adds: "In all books intended for instruction to
the lower classes, care should be taken not to let the
title or the preface imply that the book means to point
out their faults and apply remedies to them. Their
perceiving this intention, until they read the book, I
have often known to prevent them from reading it at
all; or, at least, to make them so perfectly prejudiced
against whatever might be the contents, as to put their
being benefited by those contents entirely out of the
question."
190
CORRESPONDENCE OF MRS. TRENCH
XXIX. .-FROM MRS. LEADBEATER.
Ballitore, 19th of Seventh-month, 1810.
I present my kind and generous friend lines written
with her style. They will show that I am not yet
perfect in the use of this very useful as well as classical
instrument.
I received safely thy valuable present, and for two
days was pretty much employed in showing it to my
neighbours, nor is the exhibition yet over.
If envy
was an inhabitant of Ballitore, I think her snakes would
have stung me; but, instead of this, my acquisition
seemed to give almost as much pleasure to my friends
as to myself. This is not only a token of friendship
but is in itself a friend, as I have already found and
expect often to experience.
Thy kind letter contained one piece of intelligence
which gave me pain. Thou wilt guess it was that
England was to be your home. But can I wonder at
it? This I comfort myself in believing,-that poor
Ireland will still retain strong magnets to draw you
often to it.
I wrote lately to inform thee of my prospect of suc-
cess so far with my "Cottage Dialogues." At Richard
L. Edgeworth's and his daughter's desire they were
forwarded to Edgeworthstown. I was most agreeably
surprised on opening a packet to find that it contained
the enclosed :-
AND MRS. LEADBEATER.
191
FROM RICHARD LOVELL EDGEWORTH.
5th July, 1810.
"Miss Edgeworth desires me, as a man of business, to
write to Mrs. Leadbeater relative to the publication of
'Cottage Dialogues.'
"Miss Edgeworth has written an advertisement, and
will, with Mrs. Leadbeater's permission, write notes for an
English edition. These notes need not be added to the
Irish edition. The scheme which I propose is of two
parts-to sell the English copyright to the house of John-
son, in London, where we dispose of our own works, and
to publish a very large and cheap edition for Ireland for
schools. I can probably introduce the book in many
places, and a number of well-informed persons of our
acquaintance will join in promoting the sale of such a
useful publication.
"Our family takes 300 copies; Lady Longford, 50;
Lady Charlotte Rawdon, 20; Mrs. Tuite, 20; Doctor
Beaufort, 20; Miss Beaufort, 20; Mrs. Forster, 20; Coun-
tess de Salis, 30; Lady Elizabeth Pakenham, 20;—in all,
500 copies.
66
This, from one set, promises a large sale in Ireland.
I therefore recommend it to Mrs. Leadbeater to be
cautious in making any arrangement with a bookseller,
with whom a man used to this sort of business should
deal. I think Johnston and Co. will give fifty pounds for
the English copyright.
"RICHARD LOVELL EDGEWORTH.”
192
CORRESPONDENCE OF MRS. TRENCH
JOINT LETTER FROM R. L. EDGEWORTH AND MARIA EDGEWORTH
TO THEIR LONDON PUBLISHER.
"My dear Sir,
6
"The annexed advertisement will show the object
I have in view in the intended publication of Mrs. Lead-
beater's ' Cottage Dialogues.' This MS. will make a
volume about the size of one of Evenings at Home.'
Maria generously, indeed justly, lends her name, as you
see, to the advertisement, and we desire to know what
you will give for the MS. I think nothing of this sort is
superior to these 'Dialogues;' observe that the right to
publish cheap copies for Irish schools is reserved.
"Yours truly,
"RICHARD LOVELL EDGEWORTH.”
"P. S.- You are so punctual that I need scarcely urge
you to answer immediately about Mrs. Leadbeater; but I
may just mention that we are pledged not to delay her, as
we actually took the MS. out of her Irish publisher's hands
to look them over and recommend them to you.
"MARIA EDGEWORTH.'
""
"You are to understand that I intend to add notes ex-
plaining the Irish idiom, as in 'Castle Rackrent.""
66 ADVERTISEMENT TO THE READER.
“Mrs. Leadbeater, the author of this little book, is
grand-daughter to the first preceptor of Edmund Burke.
She has in her possession several of the letters of that
great man, which she at present withholds from the pub-
lic from a delicacy that seems overstrained; but her
motives are certainly honourable, and there are few
examples of such scrupulous respect to the feelings of
relations, in this age of gossiping anecdote and epistolary
AND MRS. LEADBEATER.
193
publicity. Mrs. Leadbeater's modesty is such that she
would not venture to publish the following 'Cottage Dia-
logues' without consulting her literary friends. She re-
quested to have, amongst others, the opinion of the writer
of this advertisement. That opinion, however insignificant,
is given without reserve entirely in favour of this useful
work. It contains an exact representation of the manner
of being of the lower Irish, and a literal transcript of their
language. None of the interlocutors in these dialogues
are destined merely to speak the author's fine sentiments,
or to acknowledge the folly of all who are of a different
opinion; one of the dramatis persona is not produced to
harangue and domineer, and the other to ask questions
and be refuted; one is not made a miracle of wisdom, and
the other a man of straw. But the following are conver-
sations which seem actually to have passed in real life;
the thoughts and feelings are natural, the reflections and
reasoning such as appear to be suggested by passing cir-
cumstances or personal experience. A few notes have
been added to explain the Hibernian idiom and local cus-
toms to the English reader; but the general language and
sentiments must be universally interesting, for, in one
word, the characteristic of the book is good sense. Pru-
dence and economy, morality and religion, are judiciously
and liberally infused through the whole, without alarming
party prejudices or offending national pride.
"If some centuries hence an Irish Herculaneum should
be discovered, and if some future munificent and enlight-
ened prince were to employ the skill and patience of one
of his ingenious subjects to unfold Hibernian libraries,
this humble volume would perhaps reward his labours
VOL II —13
194
CORRESPONDENCE OF MRS. TRENCH
better than Grecian manuscripts have yet repaid the
laborious researches of our cotemporaries.
"MARIA EDGEWORTH."
"
Edgeworthstown, July 1st, 1810."
These letters were accompanied by a very kind one
from the Bishop's lady. When I found "Rose and
Nancy" were so favoured, I sent the Dialogues of ladies
and squires to Ardbraccan to meet the Edgeworths and
the bishop's family together there, and I long to know
their opinion of them.
Thy obliged and affectionate friend,
M. LEADBEATER.
XXX.-FROM MRS. LEADBEATER.
Ballitore, 20th of Seventh-month, 1810.
Thou liked the "Antidote to the Miseries of Human
Life;" hast thou seen the Sequel to it? Sequels are so
often inferior to the first work, that I was agreeably
disappointed in this. But the writer in some places
has betrayed a want of thorough knowledge of us.
Such a Quaker as Mrs. Placid, a preacher too, would
ride many miles on a pillion to attend one of her own
meetings, rather than consult the ease of the flesh by
substituting the attendance of another place of worship
for that duty. Neither would a strict Quaker depart
from her method of naming the months and days of the
week. But what I am most surprized at in the heroine's
conduct, is her permitting her daughter to go on a visit
to Squire Bustle's daughter, unguarded by parental care.
AND MRS. LEADBEATER.
195
Some of my friends blame her more than I do for being
so gentle with her daughter, after her having so far
transgressed as to go to a play; but I so well remember
my aunt's manner to us when we were sensible our-
selves of having committed indiscretions, that I cannot
censure anything which reminds me of that excellent
and amiable woman.
I saw Crabbe in the year 1784 at Edmund Burke's,
in London, with his newly-wedded wife. He was a
young man of pleasing countenance, and his manner
seemed remarkably modest and diffident. He had then
written "The Village," and "The Library," and I be-
lieve "The Newspaper." My father greatly admired
these pieces, and my first view of "The Village," read
by him to us as we sat at work, delighted me excessively,
perhaps for that reason; for my father, a nice judge of
poetry, and himself possessing a fine poetical talent,
was wont to point out the beauties of what he presented
Some time ago I was reflecting why we heard
nothing of Crabbe, whose talents had promised so fair
in his youth; and presently after I met him in an
Edinburgh Review, which congratulated the public on
his return to it after twenty-four years' absence. The
new edition of his poems is greatly enriched by "The
Village Register," and "Sir Eustace Gray."
to us.
MARY LEADBEATER.
13*
196
CORRESPONDENCE OF MRS. TRENCH
XXXI.-FROM MRS. TRENCH.
30th July, 1810.
I have longed to reply to your Edgeworthstown intel-
ligence, dear Mrs. Leadbeater, from the moment I re-
ceived it. I am delighted with the just, the discrimi-
nating praise of Miss Edgeworth, and with the active
zeal of her father. Nothing can be better written than
her introduction or his letter; it is curious to observe
how their full minds connect with the subject in ques-
tion so great a variety of instruction and allusion in the
compass of half a page. The whole plan is excellent,
and I am gratified to find my opinion confirmed that
your work has infinite merit, when considered only as a
picture, abstracted from any view of its utility; as it is
in that light alone it will be read, and I am sure ad-
mired, in England. You must be sensible how much
more good you do by obliging us in publishing this way,
though against your own inclinations, because it is very
clear it will greatly forward distribution, since many
who would have been content with reading the work
in any other case, will now be tempted to give their
numbers merely because they have them. Charles has
wider prospects of instructing his poor tenantry than
have occurred till now, and therefore must have one
hundred copies. I am almost sorry they are not called
"Cabin Dialogues," as more characteristic, and more
likely to take in poor Pat.
M. T.
-
AND MRS. LEADBEATER.
197
XXXII.-FROM MRS. LEADBEATER.
Ballitore, 20th of Eighth-month, 1810.
It is a sort of penance when I abstain from writing to
my much-esteemed friend, and it makes no part of my
creed to debar myself of what is pleasant and profitable
at the same time. Never was I more surprized than at
the approbation my Dialogues have met with from such
excellent judges, especially as I never wrote anything
with so little difficulty. I will not pretend to dispute
your opinions, but inform thee that the noble-minded
Maria Edgeworth has written the notes with all her
own grace and originality, and has held me up to view
in as flattering a light as thy own partial friendship
could desire. I believe these notes are as large as half
the original book, and they are interspersed with several
short anecdotes in the style of "Irish Bulls." I have
at her desire added a few more dialogues, or rather in-
terwoven tlem. I have committed myself altogether
into the hands of the Edgeworths, who have engaged
their publisher, Johnson, to undertake both editions. I
am much obliged by thy additions to the subscribers.
My list is enriched by many noble names, and it may
be well that the hand of time has repressed the spirit
which would else be too apt to aspire, for never was I
so exalted before since the period I spent in Selby
amongst my father's relations, where I was led in triumph
from house to house, and introduced as "Coosin Shack-
W
198
CORRESPONDENCE OF MRS. TRENCH
leton's dochter frae Ireland, the lass that maks the bon-
nie verses;" when, notwithstanding my own inclina-
tions, and my father's previous injunction to sit with
the family in the kitchen (called "the hoose"), I was
placed in solemn state alone in the parlour; when,
wherever I visited, I saw the same silver coffee-pot; and
when, after having exhausted fine walks, I was mounted
upon a grey Galloway, and, attended by a train of
nymphs and swains, taken longer excursions into the
country. Those were indeed the days wherein they
delighted to honour me, but vanity was then somewhat
kept down by the consciousness that all this was for my
father's sake, who was the pride of "a' his kin." I was
ardent in my wish to alter "Cottage" to "Cabin” in
the title, on reading thy letter, but was told that in
England it would be understood to mean the cabin of a
ship; with other objections, the most material of which
was that the book had been already announced as "Cot-
tage Dialogues" in the Belfast Magazine.
I have lately read Charlotte Brooke's translations
from the Irish. Did thou personally know her? And
Why has such worth without distinction died?
I suppose those poems, which do so much honour to our
nation, have never gone through a second edition. In
a letter from William P. Le Fanu to me he says: "I
never heard you speak of Charlotte Brooke. This makes
me think you did not know her, or perhaps her works.
She was a bright gem in the diadem of the genius of
our country, with much more of the true fire than Miss
AND MRS. LEADBEATER.
199
Owenson, or Miss Anybody. She had a high dignity
of mind, a sacred love of truth, a genuine devotion to
Ireland, that sanctified her writings. Her translations
from the Irish are exquisite."
My aged cottagers, Joshua and Mary Webster, have
just set out on a visit to their married daughter in
Carlow, eleven miles from this. These old people have
long struggled with poverty to preserve independence.
It is Joshua's first visit to his son-in-law; and, we doubt
not, to see his affectionate, dutiful daughter settled so
comfortably will bring joy to his honest heart. Mary
has a farther view in this visit, namely-to point out
the spot in which she chooses to be buried in the New
Garden burying-ground, where her ancestors lie. As
Joshua and Mary had never left home together for the
last forty years, this undertaking was a most arduous
one, and much arrangement was necessary, especially on
the part of the anxious matron. The house is left to
the care of Providence and the neighbours. Three of
the scholars have charge of the pig; another has taken
the chickens home with her. The band-box, with two
old bonnets, a trunk, and a bag, are lodged with Mary
and Anne Doyle; and to my eldest daughter's care are
committed the looking-glass and the "Lady's Almanac,"
with which she has leave to amuse herself in expound-
ing enigmas. Most of my family were assisting in see-
ing them off in a hired chaise; and before "the village
schoolmistress" mounted it, turning to her house, and
raising her hands, she pronounced this benediction,
while respectful awe preserved the muscles of her atten-
200
CORRESPONDENCE OF MRS. TRENCH
dants in due subordination: "May Goodness preserve
my place till I come back!"
Thy much obliged friend,
MARY LEADBEATER.
XXXIII. -FROM MRS. TRENCH.
Southampton, August, 1810.
I have read, at your recommendation, the "Sequel
to the Antidote," and thank you for pointing out its
variations from being a true copy of the manners it
affects to pourtray. Mrs. Placid is somewhat shorn
of her beams on our second introduction, having less
pleasantry, grace, and spirit than on her first appear-
ance. As to her discretion, it has quite forsaken her;
for allowing her daughter to visit a silly girl, and
leaving both without protection or inmates, except
servants of whom she knew nothing, is wholly in-
consistent with her character, or indeed with that of
a commonly well-conducted woman. However, the vo-
lume is interesting, and may safely be given to young
people.
'Tis pity time cannot be bestowed by the victims of
ennui, who groan under its weight, on those who never
feel they have enough for the avocations of the day;
what a relief to one party, and what an advantage to
the other! Mine is at present occupied, or, if you will,
wasted in gardening. I found here a greenhouse of
moderate extent but great variety, in which many
beautiful and some curious plants were languishing from
AND MRS. LEADBEATER.
201
the total neglect of the last ten months, and I was irre-
sistibly impelled to revive and cherish them. The soil
and climate here are so very delightful, they increase
the temptation, for everything flourishes with a spirit
of vegetation rare even in this favoured part of the
garden of the world, which one cannot admire as it de-
serves till one has compared it with other countries.
We have a complete second spring here, where roses of
every smell and hue are blowing in a manner I never
witnessed in any part of England at this season. We
have also a strawberry border, one apple, and one cherry
tree in blossom. I never before enjoyed such delight-
ful weather. Ever yours,
M. T.
XXXIV.—FROM MRS. TRENCH.
Southampton, December 22, 1810.
I have just received an account of the death of Mrs.
Trimmer, which I enclose. She was, upon the whole,
so valuable a woman, that it is interesting to all lovers
of industry and virtue. Miss Ponsonby's epitaph on
er housekeeper is just what I should have expected
from the sweetness and elegance of her mind. I sup-
pose you know that the good woman they lament,
amongst many other proofs of attachment, gave them
some years ago a field in view of their house, the only
worldly property they had ever desired. It cost her the
entire amount of her earnings through a long and labo-
rious life, £300. Mem. Lord O., nephew to Lady Elea-
202
CORRESPONDENCE OF MRS. TRENCH
nor, is a distressed man on £8,000 a year, which is the
portion of his wealth allowed to him while his debts
are unpaid; and I believe he has lately received an
enormous sum from the Crown. Blush, grandeur,
blush!"
66
28th.-It is very possible, though not probable, that
I may collect a few manuscripts by different hands not
wholly devoid of interest, either from the marks of feel-
ing and intellect they evince, or from having been writ-
ten by persons well known in their day, and may trans-
mit them or copies to you to dispose of as you please,
whenever it shall happen that you are no longer troubled
with me. Perhaps you may like to publish a little
volume of selections from them, and republish at the
same time my verses, which are only printed, but of
which the copyright was reserved, and the whole edition
purchased by one of my friends, so that there exists not
a copy now to be had for money. Any arrangement
between friends which looks to survivorship is serious,
but I never was less melancholy, and I feel great plea-
sure in the thought of living a few years longer in the
memory of those who love me through your means.
Madame Neckar wrote three hundred and sixty-five
letters, and left them to a person she could depend on
to deliver one a day to her husband. Amongst the
MS. in question there are some pleasing letters from
Lady Eleanor Butler and Miss Ponsonby, which, if
we were all three gone, would be very fit for the public
eye, being written with great elegance, and with a
degree of care not often found in the correspondence
AND MRS. LEADBEATER.
203
of intimates. I need not, to one of your uncommon
discretion, hint the propriety of our not mentioning
this passing idea, which after all I shall probably be
too indolent to execute. It darted into my mind
when I wrote of my chaos of papers.
I have just
had a letter dated yesterday, 27th, saying Mrs. Trimmer
was yet unburied, no change having taken place. It
appears as if a temperate and active life preserved our
mortal part, even after death, beyond the common
period.
Dear friend, I am ever yours,
XXXV. FROM MRS. LEADBEATER.
A ga
M. T.
Ballitore, 3rd of Third-month, 1811.
I suppose thou may have heard that Anne Grant,
who wrote "Letters from the Mountains," "Memoirs
of an American Lady," &c., some time since opened a
boarding school in Edinburgh, which at first promised
well, but now declines, it is said, because she attends more
to the cultivation of her pupils' understandings than to
their external accomplishments.
Yesterday my husband returned from Dublin; the
pleasure his return always diffuses was much increased
when he handed me two packets from thee. The first
I opened happened to be that first written, and which
accompanied the essays. The justness of thy criticism
struck me so forcibly, that on reviewing the passages I
wondered I had not written them exactly as thou
pointed out; so convincing is truth. I am also convinced
204
CORRESPONDENCE OF MRS. TRENCH
of my too great partiality to old fashions, for which I
am remarkable, and frequently meet with good humour-
ed raillery. I have only drawn my pictures from my
own circle, especially of the old mansions; one of
which, Castletown, is entwined with my earliest ideas.
It was the residence of our near relation, a woman of
wit, and even of some classical learning, yet a simple
countrywoman and an excellent housewife. Her hus-
band was blind when he married her. He was one of
the happiest of men, notwithstanding this misfortune,
for his honest heart was imbued with cheerful piety.
Castletown, with its casement windows in the large par-
lour sunk into walls three feet thick, the floor of black
oak highly polished, the orchard, the gardens, the large
trees and green fields-Castletown, where every stranger
found a ready chair, comes before my mind with such
accompaniments as thrill my heartstrings.
I do not think my "Dialogues" could afford subjects
for drawings. If hereafter I should publish anything
picturesque, I should be much obliged to thy son's
pencil. But I am much discouraged from publishing
by the unforeseen, unaccountable, and yet unavoidable
delay in publishing the "Cottage Dialogues." It was
but yesterday I received the remaining proof-sheets
from London. Johnson had sent six before for the
Dublin printer. And what must my subscribers think
of me? I shrink from the idea. This is owing to the
loss of the second copy, and yet that was not a perfect
one. To thy kind gift I look for much saving of time
and trouble, for it is most wearying to copy the same
AND MRS. LEADBEATER.
205
words often. I am not perfect at the use of it yet, but ex-
pect to be so in time. “Tobit” is but a bad specimen :
I long for thy criticism. The person at whose instance
I undertook it is the daughter of a woman whose natural
genius was improved by learning. I believe it was a
fashion early in last century for young women (Quakers,
however,) to learn Latin. This person, D. Roberts,
wrote some complimentary lines to me when I was
young, and a correspondence ensued which lasted her
life. Twenty years after her death I revived this corre-
spondence with her daughter, a woman of still brighter
genius, but self-taught. Her modesty has been so ex-
cessive that she has burned almost all she wrote. Her
mother had sent me one piece by stealth. I had heard
of her elegy on her mother's death, and, sending her my
poems, I begged for that in return. She sent it with a
letter which raised my admiration of her, and we are
now great friends; though, like my correspondent,
Thomas Wilkinson, we have never met. I have some-
what overpowered her diffidence by getting leave to
show her poems, of which she continues to send me a
few, to my friend William P. Le Fanu. She is an elderly
woman in an obscure station, one of the
gems of
purest ray serene," which "the dark, unfathomed caves
of ocean bear." She has sent me a criticism on "Tobit,"
and this enhances its value. Nothing is so kind to a
writer as these efforts of friendship.
Thine,
MARY LEADBEATER.
206
CORRESPONDENCE OF MRS. TRENCH
XXXVI.-FROM MRS. TRENCH.
No date.
Dear Mrs. Leadbeater,
Though I have but a moment of leisure this
morning, I cannot resist thanking you for your letter of
yesterday, which would have given me uniform pleasure,
but for the melancholy account of your beloved friend's
decline. This subject I shall pass over, feeling how un-
availing is all human consolation, and conscious that a
stranger to the object of your regrets is doubly unquali-
fied to offer it. Whenever you are disposed to write
fully, do not, I beg, restrain your delightful pen, but in-
dulge me with the second sheet. I believe I need not
say anything of its value, both positive and relative.
When your kind communications reach three or four
sheets, they may, when less than an ounce, be directed
under cover to
but I should not choose to
trouble him for anything less, and I must beg you to be
sure they do not exceed in weight, as I have twice been
unlucky with respect to him, which is not pleasant, as
one cannot offer to repay a few shillings to a man of
£20,000 a year, and one dislikes allowing him to pay it
more than one ought.
•
The wreck of my grandfather's fine library is coming
to me this week. Once a most valuable collection, now
reduced to a few gleanings by want of prudence on my
part, and want of-what shall I call it ?-on that of
AND MRS. LEADBEATER.
207
acquaintances and friends, who gave it house-room at
different times during the last twenty years. With a
true Irish contempt for a lock and key, I left it packed
up in open boxes, and all the books of any merit or
value have made to themselves wings and flown away.
I think your plan of supporting your girls' school by
its own work very good, but I believe it has never been
found practicable; it may, however, be greatly assisted
by the girls being mistresses of the needle, particularly
under close personal superintendence on your part and
that of your young friends.
I shall read the letters on England, and recommend
to you my last reading, "Prince Eugene's Memoirs" of
himself; and, if you have not yet seen it, Sotheby's
Saul," which is a poem not as much known as it
deserves, being not uninteresting as a whole, and em-
bellished by some beautiful details.
(6
Make what use you please of this "Account of a
Charitable Fund of Forty Guineas," produced by the
skill and industry of five young ladies in the space of
one year. Five young ladies resolved to devote their
leisure hours to the service of suffering humanity. They
expended, successively, twenty guineas in the purchase
of materials for various kinds of fancy work, with the
avowed intention of reimbursing themselves, as it was
not their intention to devote more than their time and
skill to the general species of charity they had in
contemplation. They made every sort of fancy work,
boxes, work-bags, pincushions, needle-books, thread-
cases, everything in short of this kind demanded by
208
CORRESPONDENCE OF MRS. TRENCH
whim, vanity, and taste. They also made large square
toilet pincushions of white Marseilles, fully trimmed
with double rows of muslin, and watch-pockets for beds
to correspond. How to sell these articles, which were
exquisitely finished, seemed the difficulty. The shop-
keeper will seldom give a fair price for anything offered
by private hands; and if he did, still his profit would
deduct much from the charity. To be a tax on unwill-
ing friends, and perhaps uncharitable acquaintances, is
always painful, and sometimes excites an uneasy sense of
obligation. To avoid this, our young ladies engaged a
standing, as it is called, at the great annual fair of the
town near them, and an intelligent person to attend it.
This standing was lined with green baize, and orna-
mented with wreaths of natural flowers and draperies of
white muslin. The words "Charitable Fund" were
displayed in large letters on the top. The sale was so
good as to produce a net profit of forty guineas after
every expense was deducted. The money was expended
in coals, medicine, and food for the most necessitous
families, and in completely clothing ten poor women.
They used serge for the gowns, as warmer and more
useful than any other material. They bought it by the
piece for 2s. Id. per yard, and four yards made a gown.
Adieu, dear Mrs. Leadbeater.
Ever affectionately yours,
M. T.
AND MRS. LEADBEATER.
209
XXXVII.-FROM MRS. LEADBEATER.
Ballitore, 10th of Fourth-month, 1811.
I was desirous to make a more speedy reply to my
friend's favour, but I could not take up the pen with
wonted satisfaction, because I must employ it to convey
the melancholy tidings of our great loss. The first of
this month our beloved Lydia White gently expired in
the arms of her sister. She was on that day twenty-
four years and three months old. She was the joy of
our hearts and the delight of our eyes, but I hope we
have endeavoured to submit quietly to this dispensa-
tion. We have long seen her pine away without hope,
and we believe her pure spirit is centered in holy rest.
I will not distress thy feelings by dwelling on this
subject.
The utility of Lancaster's plan is becoming more and
more evident, and a school in that mode I believe would
succeed well. I hope I shall soon be able to exert my-
self more than of late it was in my power, and I know
it will do my spirits good to return to these objects.
While I contemplate the unwearied benevolence which
continually plans and executes those schemes for the
comfort and improvement of those placed at so great a
distance, my heart glows and is lightened of its sorrows.
Thy obliged friend,
M. LEADBEATER.
VOL. IL-14
210
CORRESPONDENCE OF MRS. TRENCH
XXXVIII.-FROM MRS. TRENCH.
London, May 5th, 1811.
My dear Mrs. Leadbeater,
I will not dwell on the loss you have ex-
perienced, nor even allow myself to give way to the
sentiments which naturally arise on such an occasion,
as I feel it my duty to co-operate with your own virtuous
efforts for resignation, and to assist in turning the cur-
rent of your thoughts to other subjects and future days.
I thank you much for the two papers you have in-
dulged me with. I think I trace your benevolent feel-
ings in the commentary on our great rule of action.
The letter on the "strenuous idleness" of those who
devote their whole leisure to needlework I imagine to
be Mr. Le Fanu's. My grandfather was more averse
to this employment than even the writer of that letter,
and could never bear to see a needle in my hands.
Your friend does not go so far, and argues not against
the use of the needle, but the abuse of it. I think he
is right. But in general I own myself a friend to what
females call work. It fills up the interstices of time, if
I may use the expression. It accords with most of the
in-door employments of men, who, if they care for us at
all, do not much like to see us engaged on anything
which abstracts us too much from them. It lessens
the ennui of hearing children read the same story five
hundred times. It can be brought into the sick room
AND MRS. LEADBEATER.
211
without diminishing our attention to an invalid, while
it seems to release the sufferer from any obligation of
conversing with us. It is a sort of composer-a cal-
mant peculiarly useful I believe to the delicate and
irritable spirits of women. Those who can use the pen
so well as the friend I have the pleasure of addressing,
are, I think, entitled to lay aside the "shining store;"
but these are so few as to be considered merely as ex-
ceptions.
Walter Scott's reply is a very finished and polite
billet. Your animated and eloquent compliment must
have pleased him much. How greatly am I obliged by
your partial reception of those critiques, for which I was
forced to exert that unamiable power of the mind that
discovers trivial blemishes in compositions of great
merit.
I have never met Charlotte Smith. Her sister Mrs.
Dorset is known, esteemed, and liked in Hampshire,
where she has been an occasional visitor. She wrote
some little jeu d'esprit, in the style of Roscoe's "But-
terfly's Ball." Indeed some ascribe to her and some to
Roscoe the first idea of those little playful performances,
which have been so popular as to please almost every
one except your faithful M. T., who in this instance
much distrusts her taste.
S
14*
212
CORRESPONDENCE OF MRS. TRENCH
XXXIX. FROM MRS. LEADBEATER.
MA
Ballitore, 5th of Sixth-month, 1811.
My dear friend,
Thy poor old pensioner Ally Johnson is dead.
She lay at the house of a distant relation, who was so
kind to her that I thought thou would not object to
giving her a shawl which I have laid by for her. Ally
expressed her hopes that thou would bury her, and I
consented on thy part to provide shroud and coffin, these
being necessary, but said that not a penny of thy money
should be expended on pipes or tobacco. How pleasant
must thy reflection be on the independence which thou
gave to Ally's helpless old age. Thou hast rescued a
respectable woman from beggary, and was the means of
rendering her last days some of her happiest ones; for,
blind and poor as she was, she was an exemplary pic-
ture of content, never repining though suffering at
times much pain; and when she learned to knit, her
comforts were increased, perhaps not more by what she
earned than by her consciousness of having earned it,
and by the amusement it afforded her.
Johnson, the London bookseller, has acted very gene-
rously by me. He has printed 2,000 copies of the
"Cottage Dialogues," half of which are already gone,
and I have his permission to print as many as I please,
in Dublin, of those intended for Irish readers. Sir
Thomas Bernard is about getting a selection printed in
a cheap manner for the English poor; and yesterday I
AND MRS. LEADBEATER.
213
received a note from Robert Gillam, Secretary of the
Society for bettering the Condition of the Poor, inform-
ing me that the committee had resolved that a copy of
each of the publications of the society be presented to
me as a testimony of their respect. I know thou wilt
be pleased to find that I have succeeded so well; for
this I am much indebted to my kind and judicious
friends, whose hints and assistance were so useful in
enlarging and methodizing my little work.
We are reading Elizabeth Carter's Letters with great
pleasure, and, if it is not our own fault, with as great
profit. Excellent woman! no trace of a consciousness
of her uncommon talents and accomplishments. She
appears to have possessed a most contented spirit ;
afflicted by ill-health and the loss of friends, she was
thankful for her remaining blessings, and enjoyed them
all.
I apprehend Roscoe's "Butterfly's Ball" must have
been written to remove the dread and disgust of insects
so prone to fasten upon the youthful mind; and if it
could prevent this evil early in life, it must be allowed
to be a meritorious performance.
I have had a most kind polite letter from Sir Thomas
Bernard, whose exertions for improving the condition of
the poor are so well known. He expresses his appro-
bation of the "Cottage Dialogues" in very gratifying
terms.
Thy obliged friend,
MARY LEADBEATER.
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CORRESPONDENCE OF MRS. TRENCH
COPY OF SIR THOMAS BERNARD'S LETTER.
Wimpole-street, 27th April, 1811.
"Sir Thomas Bernard presents his compliments to Mrs.
Leadbeater, and having perused the "Cottage Dialogues"
with great delight and admiration, is very anxious that
the English poor should have the benefit of some at least
of the excellent moral lessons it contains. This he con-
ceives may be done by a selection (published by the Society
for bettering the Condition of the Poor) of some of the
dialogues on wedded life, prudence, health, &c., &c. What
he has in view would make two little three-penny publica-
tions, to each of which he would endeavour to add a pre-
face, expressing the high opinion he has of the original
work, and strongly recommending the purchase of it to all
that can afford it.”
""
XL. FROM MRS. TRENCH.
B. L., June, 1811.
My dear Mrs. Leadbeater,
Amongst the merited distinctions you meet
from a variety of quarters, I am delighted to find you
have received a tribute of praise from Sir Thomas Ber-
nard. He has long been one of my heroes. I have
never seen him, nor happened to converse with those
who had; but his unwearied exertions, embracing the
whole circle of human wants, and his excellent writings,
claim the highest esteem. I shall therefore prize the
copy of his letter, which is interesting to me on account
of the writer, and, still more, of the subject.
Your idea of the motive for writing the "Butterfly's
AND MRS. LEADBEATER.
215
Ball" is so ingenious, one inclines to suppose it just.
My dread of some insects was long troublesome to my-
self and others. Your favourites, the bees, formerly
excited in me a degree of terror and disgust never
entirely removed till I was once or twice stung. Many
would say this is a strange method of cure, but you
know enough of imagination to feel the advantage of
correcting her caricatures by comparison with reality.
My children, on the contrary, are pleased with every
thing that has life and motion, and I find some exertion
necessary when they insist on my admiring the beau-
ties of a huge beetle, or the labours of an enormous
spider.
I am glad you like Mrs. Carter's Letters. I know
they are heavy, yet I do like them, and read them with
great pleasure, and am angry when I hear them called
dull, which has happened to me very often. I love the
turn of her mind, and, though she may be a little
tedious, it is to me like the tediousness of a friend. If
you have a mind for brilliancy and flippancy, and some
sense and wit mixed up with a certain hardness and
insensibility and vanity very unpleasing in a youthful
female, turn to Lady Montagu's letters. They are
vastly more entertaining for once reading, but you do
not love the writer half so well, nor am I sure you
would be so apt to return to the volume. Besides, there
are a few great truths which Mrs. Carter places in so
many lights, and impresses so strongly, that I think
her letters are highly useful in a moral view, and an
excellent book for the library of a young girl.
216
CORRESPONDENCE OF MRS. TRENCH
I have conquered the false delicacy which made me
object to seeing my name in print; and if you happen
to make a new edition of your poems, or should chance
to publish in any other shape the beautiful lines with
which you honoured me, I shall be very happy to see
them a public monument to our friendship, and to have
my full name substituted for the appellation of “A
Lady," which always gives me the idea of a silly, use-
less sort of a creature,-I am sure I do not know why,
and I shall not be surprised if you laugh at me for this
nonsensical and groundless whim. Johnson told Mr.
Trench that the first edition of your "Dialogues" was
all sold, and he had no doubt of a quick sale for the
second. If you choose to make a second edition (an
English one) of your poems, leaving out the translation,
I am sure at this moment, while the approbation excited
by your "Dialogues" is fresh and vivid, they would sell
particularly well. You see I am one of the slaves of
mammon; in truth, I think the mother of a lovely
family, the wife of an active, enterprising husband,
and the benefactress of the surrounding poor, ought to
be reminded now and then of filling her pockets (if she
condescends to wear those Gothic appendages) as well
as extending her fame.
My plan of giving out plain work, and selling it
again for the poor, did not succeed. I found no one
would buy my goods. I have now got a woman to
teach straw plat, and have at this moment twelve
learners in my barn. You shall hear if this succeeds.
If in your new edition of Poems you could introduce
AND MRS. LEADBEATER.
217
a letter or two more of Edmund Burke's (you know one
may sweep them in by a note), it would I think gratify
the general curiosity and interest inspired by all that
remains of that great man, whose fame seems to grow
in splendour as events have proved that he was gifted
not only with "a master's hand," but with "a prophet's
fire."
Adieu, dear friend! I wish your publications might
bring you to England, that I might show you this lovely
spot and my fine boys.
I am ever most affectionately yours,
XLI.-FROM MRS. TRENCH.
M. T.
July 16th, 1811.
I sincerely concur in your opinion of Lady Mary W.
Montagu's last published letters-heartless, flippant,
selfish, and indelicate. Miss Seward goes so far as to
call them "disgusting," and in general I think her criti-
cisms on that lady's writings very just. Those of her
namesake considerably lower the reputation she had
gained as the champion of our immortal Shakespeare.
It seems an insult to call any one his champion; and a
hundred years hence, when his flame burns still brighter
than it does now, and when Voltaire shall have sunk to
his own place, which, though still lofty, will probably
be much less so than that he now occupies,-posterity
may wonder that any one could have thought a blow
218
CORRESPONDENCE OF MRS. TRENCH
from him could possibly reach the great, the sublime,
the inimitable poet, who, if he yields to Homer and
Virgil, is certainly second to no other.
Miss Edgeworth's notes on your "Dialogues” have as
much spirit and originality as if she had never before
explored the mine which many thought she had ex-
hausted.
A very agreeable surprise awaited me last night, on
my return from a country party. On opening a packet
directed to Charles, as a subscriber to the English
society for bettering the condition of the poor, I found
it contained two copies of the "Dialogues," as compressed
for the English cottager, with a preface containing in a
few words the highest and most appropriate encomiums
on that interesting performance. Now as Charles is
but a common guinea subscriber, it is certain the work
is thus distributed through the whole kingdom to many
hundreds of enlightened men, which secures it the most
extensive circulation, and will rather assist than injure
the sale of the larger work; while it renders your name
known and respected amongst the whole of that deserv-
ing class, who have devoted their time and thoughts to
the service of their fellow-mortals, without hope or
cheer of any temporal reward.
You will have a good opportunity in your paper justi-
fying neat stitching, to insert the following anecdote,
which cannot be made too public, in the hope that the
abuse when known may be rectified. A workwoman
in London, who was much distressed for employment,
took soldiers' shirts to make from those who supply the
AND MRS. LEADBEATER.
219
contractors, at threepence a shirt; on taking the work
home, and saying she could not exist by so small a pay-
ment, her employer told her "she made them too well,”
and that she might live very well by it if she made them
like some he showed her, which the woman, whom I know
to be a person of truth, declares must fall in pieces the
first day they are put on. Is it fitting that our defenders
should be thus used, to fill the pockets of army con-
tractors? I know three daughters of one of those
people, with no other means of wealth, who had each
£50,000. Besides, I believe a soldier is liable to be
flogged for not having "his necessaries," as they are
called, in good order.
Pray indulge me with the characters of the youthful
part of your family. I once heard Lady
say, to
justify herself for liking a disagreeable young man
better than a sensible old one, "I have a decided taste
for youth." Now, though this is not my case in her
sense of the phrase, I certainly have particular pleasure
in contemplating the characters and actions of those
who are fresh from the hand of nature, and alive to all
the enjoyments she so liberally bestows.
Hope waits upon the flowery prime, &c.
Heaven bless you, my friend.
M. T.
220
CORRESPONDENCE OF MRS. TRENCH
1
f
XLII.-FROM MRS. TRENCH.
August 25th, 1811.
Now, my dear Mrs. Leadbeater, for a little quiet con-
sideration of your last beautiful poem, "Good Nature,"
and I strongly recommend its publication. It breathes
that tenderness and softness which are characteristic of
your writings. Its pure morality and touching descrip-
tions must rank it high amongst poems, and it will be
a valuable addition to the small number of those one
may put into the hands of youth without feeling any
secret wish to expunge even a line. Your picture of the
boy standing on tip-toe, "to count the speckled eggs
with sparkling eyes," is most pleasing and the intro-
duction of Telemachus, and the poetic artifice which
discloses to us the poor stranger as the parent-monarch,
seem to me very happy. But, my dear friend, “tears
such as tender mothers shed" can alone show my feel-
ings with regard to the lines on my beloved boy, and
even those which prove the partiality of your constant
friendship to me do not give me so much real pleasure.
For both I sincerely thank you.
:
The opening of your third book is majestic, and
suited to the theme. Thank you for your eulogium on
Clarkson. He is not enough praised by the world. The
first promoter of every good work is always less valued
than he ought. Like the foundation-stone, like the
precious seed, does his fame too often lie buried. Ex-
AND MRS. LEADBEATER.
221
quisitely just is the comparison of the mimosa to the
benevolent soul contracted for a moment by ingratitude,
and again unfolding. The opening of the book on old
age recalls an anecdote of the late Duke of Queens-
bury, which I had from an ear-witness. When
leaning over the balcony of his beautiful villa near
Richmond, where there was every pleasure that wealth
could purchase and luxury devise, he followed with his
eyes the majestic Thames, winding through groves and
buildings of varied loveliness, and exclaimed, "Oh!
that wearisome river! will it never cease running,
running on, and I so tired of it?" This conveys a
strong moral lesson in its picture of the professed
voluptuary who had passed his early youth in the pur-
suit of selfish pleasures, and his age in vain attempts to
elude the relentless grasp of ennui.
Have you seen Miss Seward's "Letters?" They are
such a mixture, one must alloy commendation with
blame; and yet they so frequently force our admiration,
that again one feels as if criticism ought to be sus-
pended in favour of such varied entertainment, mingled
with exquisite sensibility, sound criticism, and acute
remarks on life and manners. The editor has omitted
a sketch at first sight she once drew of your friend,
which I am tempted to send you, knowing it will
gratify your fond partiality. My friends in Llangollen
Vale sent it to me some years ago, and, from my habit
of preserving papers, it has lain unseen in my chaos
ever since. It is too complimentary, but will appear
less so in your affectionate eyes than in those of others.
•
222
CORRESPONDENCE OF MRS. TRENCH
EXTRACT OF A LETTER FROM MISS SEWARD, IN REPLY TO
ONE FROM LADY ELEANOR BUTLER AND MISS PONSONBY,
INTRODUCING MRS. ST. GEORGE TO HER ACQUAINTANCE.
"Lichfield, March, 1797.
"Her powers of mind, naturally quick and strong, have
energetically extracted the rich honey of mental endow-
ment. How much merit is there in that exertion, when con-
summate beauty and the mere superficial of politeness and
modern acquirements would have secured to her youth
that celebrity and that homage which so strongly tempt
our sex to rest upon the transient distinctions they confer!
Never was a first impression more lively. She absolutely
dazzled me by the radiant expression of her eyes, while
the grace of her address, the sweet and varied tones of her
voice, attuned to partial kindness by the prepossession
which you had inspired in my favour, found immediate
way to my affections. A billet from herself, enclosing
yours, arrived at ten on Friday morning-welcome har-
bingers of her lovely form. From circumstances I have
not time to explain, I was inextricably obliged to pass
Friday evening in a party less interesting than our tete-
a-tete would have proved. Mrs. St. George was so good
as to accompany me, and enchanted the little private circle
of quiet females with the constellation of her talents and
graces. She danced, she sung, she conversed with fas-
cinating grace. The next day I had made a party of more
than twenty, collecting the flower of our female youth. I
longed to have seen Mrs. St. George adorning this circle,
but she could not stay to make crows of our Lichfield
swans.' Some of our officers met her in her public walks
with me, so the fame of her charms had spread abroad
through our city. I availed myself of your mandate, my
dear Miss Ponsonby, to obtain the perusal of the beautiful
(
AND MRS. LEADBEATER.
223
Mary Queen of Scots' disastrous fate. Very sweetly is it
told, indeed, in harmonious numbers, and often presenting
ideas and images that bear the stamp of genius. Seldom
have the muses received a female votary more worthy of
their shrine as to poetic talent, and never, I dare believe,
since it first rose on Albion, of such uncommon loveliness
of face and form. Had the Lesbian maid possessed such
charms, the heart of Phaon had never wandered. Her
boy has a lively, inquiring mind. The attentions he re-
ceives from his interesting mother are amiable, indulgent,
and are given without the least tincture of that maternal
vanity which we so often see violating the delicacy of
good breeding, and breaking every instant the chain of
conversation."
On reading over the enclosed I feel less inclined to
send it, as it is so highly coloured, but I know you will
not ascribe to mere vanity what, I hope, is only meant
to interest and amuse, though but for a moment, my
kind and indulgent friend. That friend will also see
with her usual quickness that as Miss Seward founds
her chief commendation on those mere externals which
no longer exist, it rather affords subject for moralizing on
the vanity of human wishes than for any other feeling.
You will have great pleasure in conversing with Lan-
caster, who is communicative and fluent. He has given
a great stimulus to the public mind, and as Grattan
said of Kirwan, "has disturbed the repose of the pul-
pit,” and awakened those to a sense of duty who were
too long dormant on the great subject of education.
That he appears not to have been able to resist that
224
CORRESPONDENCE OF MRS. TRENCH
temptation "by which angels fell," and that he has
been so far intoxicated by praise as to claim the entire
merit of an invention which he certainly adopted and
published and fostered with more energy and success
than the real parent, is to me a matter of regret rather
than surprise-perfection and human nature being in-
compatible. Adieu, my dear friend.
XLIII. FROM MRS. LEADBEATER.
M
M. T.
Ballitore, 31st of Eighth-month, 1811.
Yesterday I went to Ballybarney accompanied by an
intelligent old man, his spade, fifty larch-trees, twenty
ash, twelve beech, and twelve alders, a pair of shears,
and twelve copies of the "Dialogues." The planting
of the trees was a serious affair. I told all that they
were "the lady's" trees, which she would not trust in
any unsafe situation, and that she would be offended if
they were not taken care of. I also made some diffi-
culty in dividing them, and did so as a matter of favour.
All promised devoutly to take care of them, showed
earnestness to get them, and some pointed out the pic-
turesque effect they would have. This number was
all I could get at present, but I gave expectation of
more if these were taken care of. The " Dialogues"
were welcomed also, but the shears were hailed with
universal delight. They were now under a compliment
to no one; they have a village shears for clipping their
hedges. I gave them in charge of Biddy Ennis, and
AND MRS. LEADBEATER.
225
she voluntarily engaged that no hand but a Ballybar-
neyite shall wield them. Biddy Ennis, I perceive, is a
vain woman, and the admiration and commendation of
the coachmen and passengers as they pass her garden,
and see her at work there, have made no inconsiderable
impression on her mind. I do not know whether they
saw her mounted on a ladder clipping her high elder
hedge with her scissors, which she assured me she had
done.
The "British Review" speaks well of my "Dia-
logues;" Maria Edgeworth informs me that they have
had a good effect in making a dirty family of cottagers
fill up the holes in their floors; also that Walter Scott
has honoured them with his approbation. I owe much
to thy corrections and assistance.
Colonel Keatinge's second daughter, a fine young
girl of eighteen, died lately at Shrewsbury, whither the
family had removed on account of her health. The
servant who accompanied her remains to Narraghmore
put into my hands an affecting letter from the colonel,
enclosing his note to his daughter for £500, according
to her wish to do some permanent good to the poor of
Narraghmore; and she desired that I should assist her
in planning the disposal of it-intending to write to
me, but she died the next day. I am desired to call
upon the agent for £15 half-yearly, to dispose of to the
best of my judgment, it being the colonel's intention to
charge his estate with this sum. The family left this
neighbourhood just after the Rebellion, and I never
saw them since. I was struck with awe on receiving
VOL. II.-15
226
CORRESPONDENCE OF MRS. TRENCH
this sacred trust, and I am truly desirous of being
rightly directed in executing it. The colonel and Lady
Martha are persons of great worth, and I believe their
children tread in their steps.
Thy obliged friend,
MARY LEADBEATER.
XLIII.-FROM MRS. TRENCH.
18th November, 1811.
My dear friend,
I have often thought of the affecting circum-
stances of Miss Keatinge's bequest. It is a most bene-
ficent dispensation of Providence that sickness and
sorrow so often prove the seeds of charity and sympathy.
In consequence of one pang felt, how often are a thousand
pangs relieved or prevented. And as to the sufferers,
I believe there are none of us who cannot say, "It is
good for me that I was in trouble." If we perceive
that now, how much more clearly shall we see it when
in another state of existence, if we are then endowed
with the faculty of looking back on the springs of
action which gave an impulse to our earthly life.
I send with "Psyche" a copy of the short work Sir
Thomas Barnard has extracted from yours, since you
say you have not seen it. I am pleased that Sir
Thomas has given your work spread and circulation,
and paid you a merited compliment; but as it is the
privilege of those who know little to censure those who
know much, I must say I think he would have made it
more useful had he applied to you to put it into good
AND MRS. LEADBEATER.
227
English, and to adapt it for the poor of this country-
in situations which he might have pointed out. It
applies chiefly to faults the English are not universally
addicted to, and the humorous Irish phraseology will
either make it unintelligible to English cottagers, or
draw down their ridicule, or both; while it unveils so
much of our poverty and our errors as may make the
better fed and sometimes supercilious John Bull look
down on us with a contempt he is always willing to
indulge where Pat is in question.
I have been much interested by your "Tobit ;" this,
however, is not a work that would have much chance
of pleasing the public, as a scripture story is a mill-
stone that I believe would now sink any poem. Strange
it is, and unaccountable. Mr. Sotheby has struggled
nobly against this prejudice in his "Saul," but scarcely
any one has read that charming poem. In the whole
circle of my acquaintance I never met one who had,
nor could I ever prevail on any person to do so, not
even amongst Mr. Sotheby's friends and relations, ex-
cept my second self; yet it had the advantage of being
introduced in an extract of considerable length in the
"Annual Register," about ten or a dozen years since. I
think Johnson did some injury in declaring religious
subjects unfit for poetry.
If you would write a volume of Nursery Dialogues,
supposed to pass between a mother, her children, the
nurses, and the nursery maids, it might be of incalcu-
lable utility. It is a subject so ripened in your mind,
you would have little more to do than to put your ideas
15*
228
CORRESPONDENCE OF MRS. TRENCH
into the dialogue form. From the throne to the cottage
the chief pleasures of all who have feeling hearts must
flow from their children, and indeed of many who have
not feeling hearts; and I am very doubtful whether
they are not more essentially necessary to the happiness
of the poor than of the rich.
I observe in England great use made by the poor of
donkeys, which, when properly fed and kindly treated,
seem much more suitable to the cottage than the half-
starved horse of the Irish peasant.
""
I cannot answer your query about the Duchess of
York. I remember ten years since hearing a gentleman
who was nicely attentive to his own convenience, lament
that eight or ten of her dogs occupied every good place
near the fire, and made her drawing-rooms extremely
offensive. She passes for being what is called “ a good
sort of a woman a person of whom nothing can be
cited remarkable enough to merit praise or blame. I
was presented to her at her first drawing-room, when
her manner was uncommonly gentle, and her appear-
ance pleasing. As to the Regent, it is suspected that
he will leave his wife as much in the shade when Queen
as he does now; and the observers argue thus, from
having always heard people say, "When the Prince
is Regent, he must produce the Princess; the public
would not hear of his doing otherwise; no lady would
attend the court if she did not preside; I am sure, for
one I would not ;" yet, after all these professions,
which were general, no solitary instance occurred of a
single person who refused to attend the Carlton House
AND MRS. LEADBEATER.
229
fete on those grounds; although Lady Hertford invited
whom she pleased, and was virtually the directress of
that foolishly splendid entertainment. Adieu.
Faithfully and always yours,
XLIV. FROM MRS. LEADBEATER.
M. T.
Ballitore, 6th of First-month, 1812.
I have received thy two franks, my ever kind friend,
enclosing the remainder of the "Dialogues."
Perhaps thou knowest our manner of public worship
is to sit in silence. When our friends exhort us, it is
unpremeditated, and none are allowed to speak but
those of good life and conversation. They must make
proof of their conduct and doctrine before they become
acknowledged ministers; they then take their seat in
the preachers' gallery, and may visit distant meetings
or countries, with a written certificate that they have
the consent of their friends to do so. Hast thou read
Clarkson's "Portraiture of Quakerism"? It is not an
amusing work, but it is curious; and, though I sup-
pose he has represented us rather as we ought to be
than as we are, his account of our discipline, &c.,
is
correct.
We have a very interesting preacher now visiting us,
Stephen Grellett, a native of France. He was an
officer in Louis XVI.'s Guards, and fled to America at
the time of the Revolution. In America he joined the
Society of Friends, and, according to our phrase, "re-
230
CORRESPONDENCE OF MRS. TRENCH
ceived a gift in the ministry." He came to France on
a religious visit to those of our Society there, intending
to come from thence to Great Britain; but Buonaparte
would not permit this. He gave him a passport back
to America, and from thence Stephen Grellett came to
England. He is about thirty-eight years of age, middle-
sized, and slender. His face is very like the picture of
Buonaparte which thou sent to me. His demeanour is
peculiarly courteous. He speaks English very well,
though with a good deal of the French accent, and is
greatly esteemed as a preacher. He has met conscripts
chained together going to join the armies. These, he
says, are put in the front of the battle, having death
before and behind them, which they seldom escape.
Several young Frenchmen, our fellow-professors, have
been thus carried away, never to return. The French
he considers in general very dissipated, but he speaks
well of the nuns, whom he believes to be now some of
the best people in the nation.
We had lately a quarterly meeting at Carlow. Joseph
Lancaster was there, and gave us an exhortation one
evening, although he is not an acknowledged minister.
He has grown very large since he was in Ireland last,
and is a striking contrast in person and in manners to
our French friend. I wish he may keep quietly and
steadily to his business, and escape having his head made
giddy by the favour of the great and of the many. I
think thou wouldst like to see one of our quarterly or
yearly meetings-the older members mixing together, en-
gaged in serious, pleasant conversation, with an eye cast
AND MRS. LEADBEATER.
231
now and then toward the young people, ready to check
rising levity by a reproving look-all glad to see each
other and renew acquaintance, all cheerful and well
dressed, and well pleased if the weather be fine, that
their best clothes and their friends' houses may not re-
ceive dirt and abuse. The young girls have their little
fashions, are somewhat solicitous about the safety of
their silk bonnets, and perhaps the attention of the
Quaker beaus is not wholly disregarded. These meet-
ings are professedly attended on a religious account,
and the imputation of hypocrisy need not be incurred
if this be not always the sole motive. The advantage
of thus mixing in more general society is not to be con-
temned for those somewhat advanced beyond the age of
childhood. Their elder friends are on the look-out to
maintain order, and they generally return home bene-
fited in some way or other.
Thy obliged friend,
M. LEADBEATER.
XLV. FROM MRS. LEADBEATER.
K
Ballitore, 18th of Second-month, 1812.
Many of the companions of my early life have been
mown down by that scythe of destruction, "war, hor-
rid war!" Thou mayest be surprised when I tell thee
that in my father's school of over sixty boarders not
more than ten were of our own society. One good
woman, on committing her child to his care, humbly
requested that her son might be allowed to read the
232
CORRESPONDENCE OF MRS. TRENCH
Bible. My father stared, and exclaimed, "The Bible!
-the best of books, which is constantly read in my
family every morning, and every night before retiring
to rest!" The mother rejoiced, for she had thought
that our people had substituted George Fox's Journal
for the Bible. The pupils were greatly attached to their
preceptor and to their motherly mistress, and they ex-
tended their affection to all the branches of the family,
whom they were always pleased to meet. Often have
I looked back on my conduct when a girl, and ceased
to wonder at the remarks which were then made upon
it; for how extremely odd must it have appeared to see
me, a remarkably simple-looking Quaker girl, in deep
chat with an officer or a collegian, dressed in their re-
spective uniforms, whilst, walking along the streets of
Dublin or standing at a door or a window, we eagerly
interchanged questions and replies, and delivered our-
selves to the pleasure of recalling past scenes and hear-
ing of old acquaintances. A young officer, in full uni-
form, once pressed my mother and a friend of hers
who was equally grave and simple, to accept each an
arm in the most public part of Dublin. My mother
was afraid the mob would pursue and insult them, and
declined his offer. This grieved his sincere and affec-
tionate heart, and he complained bitterly that his
"odious regimentals" prevented his "old mistress" from
walking with him. He never appeared before us in
that dress again.
I cannot but laugh at the tale of the gentleman and
the Duchess of York's dogs; and my own sufferings now
AND MRS. LEADBEATER.
233
recur to my memory. On an excursion with my dear
father we lodged at the house of one of our friends who
had a number of beautiful little dogs. Our friend was
from home. I slept with her niece, who made a slight
apology for the introduction into our chamber of five
or six of these animals; for some which were her aunt's
companions were now, in her absence, added to her
own. Shall I ever forget that night-placed nearest
to the wall, in a little bed, on a hot summer's night,
after having ridden a journey on horseback, these ani-
mals lying on the coverlid, barking and snarling when-
ever I stirred, and really impressing me with fear for
my life? The pleasure of returning to our friend at the
end of the next day's journey was alloyed by the dread
of passing such another night; but by that time we
found the aunt had resumed her station in her family,
and therefore a much less degree of torture was inflicted
upon me.
Thy grateful friend,
M. LEADBEATER.
XLVI.-FROM MRS. LEADBEATER.
Ballitore, 2nd of Third-month, 1812.
I am sending a parcel which will contain the journal
of John Woolman, one of our friends remarkable for
the purity of his mind and morals. He will speak for
himself, I trust to thy satisfaction, and that the sin-
gularity of some of the sentiments and expressions will
not displease thee; for, as our great Burke expresses it
in one of his letters to my father, "Men, according to
234
CORRESPONDENCE OF MRS. TRENCH
their habits and professions, have a phraseology of their
own, perhaps the fittest for expressing their particular
feelings, or for conveying them in the most intelligible
manner to those they usually converse with."
I mentioned in my last the arrival of "Psyche.”
The lines following "The Mezereon" are so beautiful,
so original, and so pathetic, that it is not difficult to
guess who wrote them, and they make me almost
ashamed to transcribe my own attempt at a stanza :-
Genius of Spencer, dost thou hover near
The favoured banks of Mulla's pastoral stream?
Or midst Rosanna's groves, to science dear,
Lovest thou to bid thy former lustre beam!
Alas! how short-lived this delicious gleam!
How soon are closed in everlasting sleep
Those eyes which caught new radiance from the theme!
Now, while their tears the flowers of fancy steep,
Sad Psyche and her love o'er the pale marble weep.
I am a little jealous of Psyche's evident attachment to
the guardian knight; it was rather too tender for
friendship; but grateful friendship let us suppose it,
when there is so much to admire and approve.
Thy obliged friend,
M. LEADBEATER.
XLVII. FROM MRS. LEADBEATER.
A
Ballitore, 1st of Sixth-month, 1812.
I must tell thee that I spent a delightful evening
last week. A young woman from Dublin, on a visit to
AND MRS. LEADBEATER.
235
one of our neighbours, wished of all things to see Bally-
barney. We made a little party for her amusement,
but I warned her to expect nothing, for it was only
those who knew what Ballybarney had been that could
be sensible of the effect which encouragement had upon
it. We had a fine afternoon for our drive, and it is
dry and pleasant walking about the village. We took
our tea at Biddy Ennis's-semper amabilem. We never
catch Biddy at a nonplush, for Biddy's cabin is always
clean, though unprovided with what they call "tea-
tackle." This her neighbours supply, and we always
bring our tea, &c. But what merit escapes envy?
Biddy whispered that it was rumoured I had let her
know of our visit, which caused an emotion of indigna-
tion to ruffle the serenity of both our minds. The gardens
are in an improving state, the trees are taken care of, and
we look forward with pleasure to the time of distributing
the rewards. The tidiness of most of the houses, the
cultivated spots surrounding them, the marks of indus-
try, and the unfeigned expression of happiness in the
countenances of these poor people, filled us with emo-
tions which we believed were more really joyous than
those which the gaiety of a ball-room could excite; and
the young Dublin lass declared in effect that the half
had not been told her.
I am thy affectionate and obliged,
MARY LEADBEATER.
236
CORRESPONDENCE OF MRS. TRENCH
XLVIII. FROM MRS. LEADBEATER.
Ballitore, 24th of Seventh-month, 1812.
John Cumming, the Dublin bookseller, who publish-
ed the last edition of the "Cottage Dialogues," lately
proposed that I should write a series of dialogues be-
tween men. I caught at the idea, and framed the his-
tories of Thady and Martin. Thady begins with play-
ing pitch and toss, because he was prevented amusing
himself with a garden; he contracts a love of gaming
and idleness; gets to be servant in the families of fox-
hunting squires, and occasionally associates with Larry
and Kit, some of his idle companions. At last he is
humbled by the death of a young woman whom he had
seduced; is taken into a clergyman's family, and be-
comes sensible of the advantage of his situation, till
Larry and Kit beguile him, and take him with them to
Dublin under pretence of getting him a better place.
Here they inveigle him into a robbery, one of his com-
rades escapes, the other is taken with him, turns king's
evidence, and Thady is condemned to Botany Bay.
Martin loves his garden, is encouraged by his parents
to cultivate it, it becomes a source of pleasure and pro-
fit, and he marries happily. Most of these dialogues
are between Martin and Thady. I send thee two for a
specimen.
We have extraordinary fine weather now, and I
have spent much of the day watching our bees, while
D G
Gha
AND MRS. LEADBEATER.
237
our old gardener was otherwise employed, he having
left near me the frying-pan and weeding-knife, to sound
the alarm, according to ancient custom, should the
swarm issue out. Seated in a bower, I enjoyed the
sweets of solitude. I felt much released from care. I
thought how peculiarly favoured I was in husband,
children, friends; I beheld the simple garden blooming
in the pride of summer; I saw the trees expanding
which I had planted myself; the tinkling of the river,
the hum of the bees, and occasional voices and sounds
increased my quiet pleasure. I saw old James, the
gardener, coming; I went to meet him, and we stood
opposite the hives, conjecturing whether or no the bees
had a mind to swarm, and we stood, unconscious of
danger, till I felt one of my enemies alight on my fore-
head. "Mistress, 'tis a bee coming home, and you were
in its way; but here's the sting, however ?" The bee
made a terrible bustle in my cap. James released him,
and I walked into the house, holding my hand to my
forehead, which began to pain severely. My eyes, my
I
ears, my nose, my throat, partook of the venom.
sneezed, grew hoarse, one eye presently closed, and I
had serious fears for the other. The pain abated, but
stupor, uneasiness, and inconvenience lasted for days,
and the swelling is not yet quite gone.
Many beautiful poems leave an uncomfortable sensa-
tion on the mind, from the evident anxiety, depression,
or sorrow of the writer; but the sentiments of thine
accord with that of the virtuous Addison :-
C
238
CORRESPONDENCE OF MRS. TRENCH
Ten thousand thousand precious gifts
My daily thanks employ,
Nor is the least a cheerful heart,
Which tastes these gifts with joy.
My father, who was one of the best men I ever knew,
was also one of the happiest; he enjoyed his comforts,
and diffused around him the glow of his cheerful grati-
tude. While I was thus pondering on the thoughts thy
lines excited, I received a letter from a friend so much
in unison with them that I must quote her :—“ I
doubt whether any incense is more acceptable than that
which ascends from a grateful spirit. Clouds we must
expect, because they are necessary for us; but we may
safely wait till they come, and I am fully persuaded we
often suffer more from anticipated evils than from real
ones."
M. LEADBEATER.
XLIX. FROM MRS. TRENCH.
26th July, 1812.
Little Melesina in vigour and stature vies with the
other sex, and in sweetness of temper and countenance
is quite a Mrs. Placid. This is the most accurate ac-
count of her which a very short acquaintance enables
me to give. Her state of beatitude would show those
gloomy and ungrateful philosophers, who are so fond of
descanting on the miseries of infancy, a strong exception
to their general positions. I find a great difficulty in
substituting she and her for he and him, and often give
AND MRS. LEADBEATER.
239
her the higher title, reminding myself of one of the
Duchess of Rutland's maids, who apologized to mine for
having called me Lady St. G. by mistake, saying "she
really did not know how to turn her tongue to say Mrs."
20th.—“Melesina the Less" is a large, strong, plump,
placid, black-eyed girl, without a single mark of deli-
cacy or irritability; she seems to like everything that
happens to her, and is just the creature I would have
prayed for. I should tell you her name is Elizabeth
Melesina. I had some objection to my own name, com-
bined in my mind with many faults and many sorrows;
and I also knew by experience that an appellation which
is more suited to the pages of fiction than to real life
ministers to vanity and romance, besides its tempting
coxcombs to “soften stanzas with her tuneful name," as
is well expressed in some lines addressed to poor me,
who can now and then be wise for others, not having
expended much wisdom at home. So my daughter is
now Bessy, under which domestic and social name I hope
to see her good and contented, and to introduce her to
my dear Mrs. Leadbeater, whom my boys have already
learned to respect. Indeed "Cottage Dialogues" and
Cottage Stories" deserve their gratitude, for they are
their favourite books of relaxation, though surrounded,
perhaps a little too much, with literary food. Richard
when he had a cold was read to, and when I attempted
to put "Cottage Dialogues" into English he said, "No,
no; pray let me have the pretty Irish words!"
Ever most affectionately yours,
((
M. T.
240
CORRESPONDENCE OF MRS. TRENCH
L.-FROM MRS. TRENCH.
December, 1812.
Just returned, my dear friend, from a journey. I so
long to reply to your letter, that I sit down to this scrap
of paper torn off a petition, which is the only morsel
the house affords. You ask me if I am ever angry. I
am very angry that there should be any feuds about
our school; and as Mr. Trench and I meant to have
assisted it more effectually, if on trial we found it had
promised to be successful, we cannot think of giving
up our original plan, or of admitting into a house of
ours any schoolmaster but him you were so good as to
select.
Therefore we shall have nothing to
do with a school for the present. There is at this mo-
ment an effervescence for and against Lancaster schools,
which it may be prudent to let pass over, unless one
was on the spot to moderate and counteract it. I hope,
finally, you and I shall be able to establish a Lancaster
school, as it is the best suited to the peculiar circum-
stances of Ireland.
*
Clarkson's "Portraiture of Quakerism" I read at
Bognor, three years since, with great profit and plea-
sure. Woolman interests me much, he is so good, and
describes his feelings with such strength and simplicity.
At Ballitore, under your hospitable roof, I remember
reading him for the first time, and some of his remarks
sunk into my mind, and incorporated themselves with
AND MRS. LEADBEATER.
241
my habitual train of thinking, though I knew not
whence the seed was derived until I found them again
I shall always value this gift, as well for its own sake
as that of the giver. The reason I have not read Clark-
son on the Slave Trade again is, that it contains details
of cruelty which I have not health to bear. This is a
peculiarity which I have never mentioned to any one,
as it looks like affectation, or at least an assumption of
sensibility; but the fact is that stories of this nature
affect my nerves so much, that I now in self-defence
avoid them, as I should an unwholesome dish. The
management of one's mind is an art which one learns,
like that of one's health, from the lessons of experience.
There is a valuable éloge of Miss Elizabeth Smith in
Magee's excellent work on the Atonement-an admir-
able work for those whose faith requires to be fixed;
but, from the nature of the subject, necessitating so
close a view of the wickedness of our nature, as renders
it too melancholy for those whose belief is already
established. To recommend it to them is like giving a
powerful and painful, though not dangerous, medicine
to a man in health.
I often wished to apply to some useful purpose the
pleasure I find in composition, and to concentrate those
desultory efforts which at present just disturb the repose
of habitual indolence, and reproach me with the want
of continued and well-directed exertion. My chief ob-
stacle lies in the want of some plan by which I could
connect the various ideas on education, manners, feeling,
temper, and religion now floating in my mind, and
VOL. II.-16
242
CORRESPONDENCE OF MRS. TRENCH
preserve a variety of anecdotes fast fading from my
memory, which might not be wholly useless to the
observers of human nature. My portfolio overflows
with scraps, not all uninteresting; and if books could
be formed as females form a patchwork quilt, it would
form more volumes than one. You see you have led
me into egotism, as you seem to wish. Since I am em-
barked on that " sea without a shore," I must reply to
your inquiries about the children.
One of
my
little fellows asked me too earnestly for a peach, and
I said, "Do you know most people think we shall no
longer eat in heaven; so take care not to grow too
fond of it." "If we do not eat there," answered he,
*
we shall know nothing about eating." This was just
the spirit of the answer made by Johnson, on being
asked whether he thought we should meet our friends
in heaven; and it was curious to see how my boy
turned it to his own apology, by proving his acquiring
a taste for eating was not imprudent, even on the ground
I had taken. Heaven bless you!
LI. FROM MRS. LEADBEATER.
M
M. T.
Ballitore, 11th of First-month, 1813.
The last spring and summer were very distressing to
the poor, and the populous town of Carlow presented
scenes of suffering which deeply touched the hearts of
many benevolent inhabitants. They contributed large
sums of money to purchase provisions; they made ap-
AND MRS. LEADBEATER.
243
plications to some great persons which were successful;
and, in glancing around, their eyes fastened on the pro-
fusion of wealth which fortune had showered on Miss
Tilney Long, then about to marry our countryman.
They applied to me to write an address, by way of
epithalamium and petition joined, to the young
bride, expecting that would procure a donation for
their benevolent purpose. I agreed, on condition that
my name should be kept a profound secret from all con-
cerned, except those who had made the request of me.
I wrote the following; and, though they thought me not
quite urgent enough, yet they sent it, with a polite
explanatory prose address of their own-but nothing
ensued !
From crowds of sighing suitors won,
By Emerald Erin's gallant son,
Behold the lovely bride appear,
Fair moving in her radiant sphere!
The gaze of wonder and delight
Eager pursues the vision bright.
The trifler hastens to behold
The splendid robes, the gems, the gold ;
While other eyes alone admire
The form which needs not rich attire.
But he whom generous feeling warms
Contemplates more enduring charms,
Sees from those eyelids beaming bright
Angelic pity's sacred light,--
Beholds the snowy hand extend,
The poor, the helpless to befriend;
For Famine o'er the frighted land
Waves wide her desolating wand,
-
16*
244
CORRESPONDENCE OF MRS. TRENCH
And ignorance, with potent spell,
Untutored genius can repel.
Yet Erin's children freely share
The humble roof and scanty fare;
Yet Erin's children have enshrined
In the rude breast the generous mind,
Where solid sense and judgment clear
And flashing wit by turns appear.
"Tis theirs the tribute just to pay,
Howe'er untaught the artless lay,
To beauty, elegance, and youth,
Superior talents, worth, and truth.
"Tis theirs to hail, with conscious pride,
The happy spouse and blooming bride-
To watch while favouring sails expand
To waft the prize to Erin's land—
The prize by Fortune's favours blest,
The prize by Nature's favours dressed.
Yet brighter than Golconda's store,
Yet richer than Peruvian ore,
Yet fairer than sweet beauty's eye,
Yet softer than the vernal sky,
To Erin's children yet more dear
Are Virtue's smile and Pity's tear.
P
I was greatly puzzled to know whether the bride had
any pretensions to beauty. I have lately heard that she
has not, and if so, my lines may have given offence.
It is said that she is designed in the "Absentee," under
the name of Miss Broadhurst. If she have such a mind,
no matter in what person it is lodged.
Thy affectionate and obliged friend,
MARY LEADBEATER.
AND MRS. LEADBEATER
245
LII. FROM MRS. TRENCH.
Magdada
January, 1813.
My dear Mrs. Leadbeater,
Virtuous love, that great blessing of human ex-
istence,-I should say greatest, if I were not a mother,-
always appears in my eyes still more virtuous, when it
is founded on an intimacy and knowledge of each other
commenced in childhood or early youth. One is sure
in this case that intellectual and moral qualities have
had the principal share in producing it, for such an
intercourse precludes all illusion, all deception from the
imagination, and none but the truly amiable and excel-
lent are likely in this situation to feel a mutual pas-
sion.
I have but an indifferent opinion of Miss Tilney
Long for neglecting your extremely polite, delicate,
and patriotic address. I have heard that she was pretty,
even from the candidates for beauty in her own sex; so
I do not think on that head you need apprehend having
given offence. Her conduct to relations, friends, and
dependants was liberal, but I know not whether she
has a heart. Was the prose address signed by real
names? Many of the English have a sort of dread of
anything anonymous. I do not believe she was desig-
nated under the character of Miss Broadhurst, for I
never heard she had any pretensions to superiority of
intellect, and she was placed in so strong a light by the
246
CORRESPONDENCE OF MRS. TRENCH
rays of her own wealth that every perfection of hers
must have been blazoned to the world.
I have not yet had time to do more than dip into the
Belfast magazines, but I think the articles in many
respects well calculated for our country; but they
abound too much in details of cruelty, which Sir
Thomas Bernard places on â level with those of licen-
tiousness as to their debasing and corrupting effect on
the mind. 'Tis to be feared that, when stated merely
to gratify curiosity, they are always injurious, and that
the moderately cruel or unkind may sometimes, at least
in their own minds, "approach to whiteness by the side"
of the darker monsters these details exhibit. Observe
how John Woolman abstains from such, even on sub-
jects which naturally lead to them. I went to London
for a few days, to see Mrs. Le Fanu's play, "The Sons
of Erin." It has considerable merit, is lively, interest-
ing, and humorous; and, though I am not very apt to
be amused by theatrical representations, it kept my at-
tention awake from beginning to end. It was received
with universal applause, and bids fair to attract full
houses for a considerable time.
Pray do not buy Dr. Syntax's Tour, as I wish to have
the pleasure of making you laugh, and I propose to
make the Doctor accompany "Rejected Addresses.
M. T.
""
AND MRS. LEADBEATER.
247
LIII.-FROM MRS. TRENCH.
February 11th, 1813.
My dear Mrs. Leadbeater,
I am happy to find you once more exerting
your powers for our amusement and instruction. The
second part of Cottage Dialogues is worthy of its pre-
decessor-less humorous, perhaps, and less marked by
a certain indescribable naiveté, but often pathetic, and
always mingling useful knowledge with the purest
morality.
How pleased I was to see the Ballitore newspaper!
On few pages, however illuminated by genius, have I
ever gazed with such delight. This is, indeed, in the
moral and noblest sense, to "make the desert rejoice
and blossom as the rose." How useful, too, the in-
formation such a work conveys! and what an admir-
able method of impressing, by the slowness of its pro-
cess, any technical knowledge on the mind of the young
penman! Does the school possess "Lessons for Young
Persons in Humble Life"? If not, present a copy from
me, writing in the blank page, "In return for the plea-
sure afforded by the Ballitore Weekly Messenger."
Do you not rejoice that the innocence of our illus-
trious and injured Princess, the mother of our future
Queen, is finally cleared by the very arts which were
used to strengthen the shade her adversaries had con-
trived to throw over it?
248
CORRESPONDENCE OF MRS. TRENCH
Charles begs to send you a little work, full of point
and humour, attributed to the pen of Anacreon Moore.
I confess it has pleased me very much. I am afraid
it is wrong to derive so much pleasure from a work
of satire, which has not even the pretence of reforming
the culprit, but I apprehend will only irritate him.
Perhaps we are also wrong in disseminating a work
of this kind. Give me your opinion. At all events,
it is a witty little production; and if it amuses your
kind and friendly mind, some good will be produced
by its travel,
Affectionately yours,
LIV. FROM MRS. LEADBEATER.
M. T.
Ballitore, 18th of Fifth-month, 1813.
My kind friend,
This day I received from Dublin the "Two-
penny Post-bag." I think that is the name of the en-
tertaining volume which my husband and daughter
carried off to read in the carriage which conveyed them
to Athy; but though I could peruse but little of it, I
read enough to turn my thoughts almost ever since into
a channel which they do not in general occupy. By
pondering on the freedom of thought and the liberty of
expressing thoughts secured by our excellent constitu-
tion, the mind is naturally turned towards those des-
potic governments where such things durst not be
whispered. Gratitude ought to arise in the heart for the
AND MRS. LEADBEATER.
249
privileges of British subjects, and those inestimable
privileges should not be abused. The satire appears to
be sharply pointed, and some characters high in rank
are aimed at boldly enough. Let these characters en-
deavour after virtue, let noble sentiments and actions
unite with noble birth, and the satire which attacks
them will be treated by the generous Briton with con-
tempt. But if they are conscious that "the cap fits
them," let them look on the faithful mirror of truth,
and strip off what is so unbecoming. When satire
attacks vice and folly, is it wrong to be pleased with
genuine humour and lively wit? I cannot think so,
and I thank thy son in my own name and the name of
all Ballitore for the mirth which his present has occa-
sioned. Dr. Syntax is the delight of the neighbours ;
when a party of school-boys visit us, he is regularly
brought down; and many tedious moments of W.
Le Fanu's confinement have been most agreeably be-
guiled by the natural, simple, shrewd, worthy doctor.
Under the veil of simplicity and doggrel, as it were,
there sparkles a rich stream of genuine poetry, enriched
by many novel ideas and true wit. The bookseller is
exceedingly clever, and there is some truth in the
picture.
26th. It surprises me to find my days running so
rapidly by, and the work of the day unfinished. Alas!
I fear it will be thus with my day of life-an awful
consideration! Although I arise between five and six,
yet I find so many occupations, that the "sweet hour of
prime," which I meant to devote to friendship, is gene-
250
CORRESPONDENCE OF MRS. TRENCH
rally employed otherwise, and the day is often broken in
upon by trifles or morning callers. Besides, my hus-
band is still a prisoner, except to drive out daily, and
it is my duty and my pleasure to cheer and partake of
his captivity. He is however growing better, and I
hope the fine season will restore him to his fields again.
Thy obliged friend,
MARY LEADBEATER.
LV.-FROM MRS. TRENCH.
May, 1813.
My dear friend,
Now I am once more quietly settled in my
little green nest, I can reply methodically to some of
those kind queries which I fear remained unanswered
in "all the various bustle of resort," where the affection
of my friends and the civility of my acquaintances con-
spired to rob me of my time.
I have read again the second part of the Cottage
Dialogues, and I am sure I ought to like them as well
as the first, but I do not find them so strongly impress-
ed with your own peculiar individual character-with
that slight tincture of pleasantry which infuses itself,
one knows not how or why, where least expected, and,
like orange-flower water, if you will allow a metaphor
from cookery, gives to the whole a flavour agreeable and
refined. The second part is as useful and moral as its
predecessor. I shall send for the Christian Observer in
order to enjoy their praises of you, but it does not please
AND MRS. LEADBEATER.
251
me to find they are insensible of the indirect religious
influence your works must have on the heart. Religion
should undoubtedly be the first object of every writer
who aims at improving human nature, but her lessons
are often the more efficacious for not being formally
announced as such; and perhaps in your peculiar situa-
tion, professing tenets which do not wholly agree with
those of the majority on one hand, or of the established
government on the other, to have given any direct les-
sons of religion might have diminished the general
utility of your admirable works. Your happy mixture
of good sense and quick feeling has in this as in other
instances guarded you surprisingly from anything which
would excite jealousy, or awaken misapprehension.
It is so much the custom to say the Irish cottager is
lazy, that I should wish much for a little sixpenny
volume, "Some Account of the Industry of the Irish
Cottagers," or any other name expressive of the con-
tents. It had best be written in the plain style of those
published in the "Reports of the English Society for
bettering the condition of the Poor."
Some of your
young folks I think might accomplish it. Names,
places of abode, and particulars should be given at full
length, for these are what stamp interest and value on
such productions. A cottage in faithful description has
nothing attractive to imagination, so long as we think
it a fancy piece, but the moment we are assured it is a
portrait it becomes universally interesting. "James
Austin the Bricklayer," and "Baker the Labourer,"
are read over and over with pleasure, from our knowing
252
CORRESPONDENCE OF MRS. TRENCH
they are true accounts of persons existing in that station
in which are placed the larger portion of beings with
the same feelings, appetites, and passions as ourselves.
The great object of curiosity now in Londom is
Madame de Staël. The envy she excites in her own
sex is painfully disclosed by their continual remarks on
her total want of grace and beauty; in short, on her
being a large, coarse, and homely woman. One is tempt-
ed to say, "Who ever inquires what is the plumage of
the nightingale?" but a lively friend of mine put an
end to this discussion in two words by saying, "In short,
she is most consolingly ugly"-thus by one happy
epithet criticising the critics with a light yet sharp
touch. She has been received with all the honours due
to her genius, and sought for in every society; and the
Prince Regent, with more appearance of taste than he
now often discloses, went to Lady Heathcote's one
evening purposely that she might be introduced to him
previously to her appearance at his fête, where she could
not have gone without being introduced before it.
Lady de Clifford was governess till lately to the
Princess Charlotte, and ascribes to her the greatest open-
ness, sensibility, candour, magnanimity, and courage;
and she dearly loves her. Miss Cornelia Knight,
authoress of "Marcus Flaminius, or the private Life of
the Romans," and of the only good continuation of Ras-
selas, told a friend of mine "that the Princess Charlotte
had the best of human hearts, a very excellent under-
standing, and undaunted courage." She is her sub-
governess, and honoured with her chief confidence.
AND MRS. LEADBEATER.
253
I remember the time when no young woman who
went into "the world" ever appeared till she had tied
on before a semi-circular cushion of a quarter of a yard
long and wide, and two inches thick. How we could
have been such fools is to me amazing; or how we sup-
ported that horrid composition of calico and horse-hair
in crowded assemblies in the dog-days; or how we re-
conciled it to our feelings of cleanliness to wear one of
those machines till we were tired of its form, without
washing, appears now beyond my belief. This fashion
was introduced by Lady Caroline Campbell (afterwards
Lamb), and I think has been without parallel in false
taste and absurdity since that period. I have gone into
shops to choose those precious ornaments, and have
seen five hundred of them at a time. I think this was
about sixteen years ago. We then removed them to
the opposite quarter, and all looked like the Hottentot
Venus.
LVI.-FROM MRS. LEADBEATER.
M. T.
Ballitore, 29th of Ninth-month, 1813.
My esteemed friend,
Thy apology for my "want of religion" is so kind
and so grateful to me, that I intend to shelter myself
under it from the attacks of reviewers who in fact com-
pliment me by noticing me at all, though I am conscious
it is to Maria Edgeworth I owe this notice. Borne on
her wing, the first series of my "Dialogues" has crossed
254
CORRESPONDENCE OF MRS. TRENCH
the line, and is read in India, and with peculiar plea-
sure by natives of Ireland.
We are greatly gratified by thy mention of Madame
de Staël. The Princess Charlotte affords still more
gratification, especially as we had heard strange accounts
of her temper.
One improbable story was that she
carried on a correspondence with a young man—the
relater thought it was the Prince of Orange-and that
one of her ladies was picking the lock of her bureau,
by order, to obtain his letters, when the princess entered
the room, and, snatching up one of the candles which
were being borne before her, flung it at her governess.
Also we heard that she was accustomed to throw her
books at the heads of her tutors, and disregard their
instructions. So far for royalty.
Canst thou tell me whether Lord Byron and Lord
Strangford are one and the same person? and what
character does Lord Byron bear? There is fine poetry
in "Childe Harold;" but being, like Beattie's "Min-
strel," neither narrative nor didactic, it causes some
confusion in my head to comprehend it. Lord Byron
seems very melancholy, and bewails his Thyrza in beau-
tiful numbers.
Ever thy obliged friend,
M. LEADBEATER.
LVII.-FROM MRS. TRENCH.
I suppose you know that Tommy Moore has lost all
his prospects of advancement by publishing "The Two-
penny Post-bag;" Lord Moira refusing on this account
AND MRS. LEADBEATER.
255
to take him to India, where he had intended to provide
for him. He has gained in fame what he has lost in
profit, as, although his former works had many admirers,
some disliked and some despised them-how justly I
will not pretend to say—but all acknowledge the wit
and humour of this last production. It is not free
from blemishes, but is perhaps as much so as any work
we know, entirely and professedly satirical. You like
a little gossip, my dear friend, so I make no apology
for giving you the desultory chat of the day.
publication called Edward's Edition of the Book has
been lately in the hands of all who could buy or bor-
row, and has completely settled the minds of the last
stragglers who were not fully convinced of the Princess
of Wales' innocence. It contains Percival's defence,
which blows into dust and scatters to the winds all the
idle and indecent accusations of her enemies.
The
"Practical Hints on the State of the Middle and
Lower Classes in Ireland" is a work that would sell
well. Since the Union, all minds here are much
awakened on the subject.
I must defend Madame de Sevigné a little from your
friend Mr. Le Fanu. She now and then speaks unfeel-
ingly, I know, but it is the want of feeling of infancy
which has never reflected on the subject in question ;
like my second little boy, who corrected some one who
said she would meet all our friends in heaven, and
answered with the most satisfied expression, and the
countenance which painters gave to a seraph, "Oh no,
for some of our friends will be in hell!" I am sure
256
CORRESPONDENCE OF MRS. TRENCH
Madame de Sevigne's insensibility arose from similar
want of reflection, and that she was not hard-hearted
either by nature or habit. Adieu, my dear Mrs. Lead-
beater.
LVIII.-FROM MRS. LEADBEATER.
M. T.
Ballitore, 22nd of Eighth-month, 1813.
It is time that I inform my valued friend in what man-
ner the annual premiums have been distributed at Bal-
lybarney. After frequent disappointments of weather,
a day was fixed upon. It was the 12th of last month.
After all, it was not a promising day; it lowered, and
gusts of wind frequently made clouds of dust; but
John and Margaret Bonham were in the country, their
stay was limited, and we were desirous to have them of
our party. Two jaunting cars were filled besides my
own. My own, to tell the truth, is a little car made after
the county of Wicklow fashion; it has block wheels,
we sit on it on each side, with our legs hanging down,
a quilt covering the straw, and I find it a most pleasant
and safe conveyance, being so near the ground as not to
dread the consequence of a fall. Humble as it is, I am
not in the least ashamed of it, let who or what will be
in company, especially going to Ballybarney, for my
office confers dignity both upon me and my car.
An amiable widow from Cork, and her son who is at
school, came with us-the youth dressed in his best
habilaments, thinking he was going to drink tea with
AND MRS. LEADBEATER.
257
thee!—this was one of the jokes of the day. We found
Murray's garden looking very neat, though he told me
"he did not give his mind to posies."
Our next visit was to Biddy Ennis, whose daughter
sat modestly working at her needle. Biddy drew me
aside, and told me the little girl had just been married
to a young man named Donoghoe, brother to an old ser-
vant of mine who piqued herself on her family having
the blood of Irish kings in their veins. I asked leave
to wish her much joy, which was granted, and I added
my advice to Biddy to keep the staff in her own hands.
The second premium (£1 2s. 9d.) was won by her, and
the third by "Queen Phoebe," who received it coldly
enough. Nancy M'Cabe got the 15s. premium; she sat
with a babe of two weeks old on her lap, who had every
appearance of health and vigour, but the dews which
the mother frequently wiped from her own face bespoke
that she was not quite strong yet, though she informed
me that she had been in Dublin since her confinement,
to receive her wages for the foundling children; "but,"
added she, "I did not walk, for I have bought Dillon's
mule and car.” I really am afraid this poor woman will
kill herself with her exertions; she has now six children
of her own, beside the foundlings she has in charge, and
her house is admirably neat. The spirit of improvement
animates Ballybarney.
My friend from Cork, who suffered from fear of the
horse which drew the jaunting-car upon which she came
to Ballybarney, preferred returning with me, as she saw
I was so much at ease. Now those who are not used
VOL. II.-17.
258
CORRESPONDENCE OF MRS. TRENCH
to lowly things often admire them, but on trial are fre-
quently sensible of more inconvenience than they ex-
pected. It was thus with my friend. She is a rich
Quaker, though as humble as a poor one; she was not
used to such a vehicle, and she sat most uncomfortably,
though without complaint. By an awkward mistake,
John Bonham was obliged to accept of a seat on my car
also, and jolting over the wheel he endured it with
"patience perforce" till near home, when he fell off.
This was a climax! Good humour happily kept her
seat amongst the party, and all was well notwithstand-
ing, though we were soaked with wet, and the youth's
best coat was spoiled.
I have lately seen in the Christian Observer for June,
a review of my second part of "Cottage Dialogues,"
favourable, indeed, except that I am thought deficient
in inculcating religion. That subject is too sacred for
me to meddle much with, but I trust I wish most sin-
cerely to do all in my power for its service, and am
sensible that the fault lies in myself that I can do so
little. The "Landlord's Friend" is published. "Now,"
said my friend from Cork, after reading the second part
of the "Landlord's Friend" and visiting Ballybarney,
"I can tell that this is no fictitious representation, for
I have been an eye-witness to it.'
Thy obliged friend,
در
MARY LEADBEATER.
AND MRS. LEADBEATER.
259
LIX.-FROM MRS. LEADBEATER.
Ballitore, 22nd of Eleventh-month, 1813.
Thou wast kind enough to congratulate us on our
little grandchild. Oh! now congratulate her on her
early escape from the trials and disappointments of this
life. She was a pretty little creature, but always deli-
cate, and had little animation. When we thought her
getting better, she suddenly expired. It was a great
shock to us all, and the parents were much to be pitied.
They have, however, borne it with resignation. I did
not think it would have gone so near my heart, but the
regret which I feel is very painful-more so, I believe,
than it ought to be.
Our young Duke of Leinster not long ago visited our
Lancasterian school. His intention to come with other
members of the Kildare Farming Society was announced
some time before. He was most punctual to the time,
and walked down from this unaccompanied by his
brother-in-law. Many eyes were strained to see a duke.
My children had pressed me to put on my new poplin
gown, for they fully expected their uncle would intro-
duce him here. I was not so sanguine, and would not
put on my new poplin gown. If I had, the duke would
not have had the pleasure of seeing it, for I had only
the pleasure of seeing him as he walked by. His be-
haviour was, I hear, easy, affable, and unaffected, and
the school pleased him and his friends. I feel much
17*
260
CORRESPONDENCE OF MRS. TRENCH
interested about this young man, placed at the head of
our nobility in Ireland, young, unprotected and exposed.
I hear he is fond of agriculture, and intends to reside
at home.
LX. FROM MRS. LEADBEATER.
M –
9th of Second-month, 1814.
My much esteemed friend,
We have had such snow here as I never re-
member to have seen. The drifts choked up the roads,
and for some days no post came in from Dublin, which
caused a terrible fast to politicians, particularly in these
stormy times.
At length three posts came together,
and then, like the frozen sounds in Baron Munchausen's
horn, when liberated by the thaw, news sounded all
around us.
Diplomacy just now sounds familiar to me, having
lately read "Patronage," but in such a hurry, that, to
view it soberly, I must read it again. Admirable
Maria Edgeworth! With all the noble traits which
mark Lord Aldborough's character, I had rather thy
son resembled the accomplished country gentleman,
Mr. Percy, than him.
We have just read "The Giaour. It is striking,
unconnected, and rends the feelings rather than softens
them, except the affecting message to his friend, and
the surpassingly beautiful lines on Greece, comparing
her to the newly dead. While such splendid poetry is
""
AND MRS. LEADBEATER.
261
before the public, how foolish was it of me to think
of publishing my little volume of verses! And yet I
was encouraged to do so by kind friends, and by my
bookseller, Cumming; but I felt intimidated to incur
such a risk, and resolved no more to solicit subscrip-
tions. So there it lies, and I will not deny feeling a
little disappointment; for, having tasted the emolu-
ments of authorship, and swallowed the bitter draught
of a beginner, I am not averse to go on.
13th of Fourth-month.-Let me congratulate thee
on the glorious news of this day. How many a heart
will leap for joy! How many shackles will be loosed!
Even I, sober and aged, scarce know what I write.
For "The Corsair" accept my thanks. I think it
outdoes all Lord Byron's outdoings—a fine, rapid course
of majestic poetry, with most brilliant touches, and
some very natural ones. Was ever a tear so beautifully
described as that which sparkles on Conrad's chains?
That starts at once, bright, pure, from Pity's mine,
Already polished by the hand divine.
I join with thee in admiring the description of his con-
jugal love, and his feelings in the dungeon. Besides
his love for his wife, there is his humanity in saving
the women in the harem, his abhorrence of assassina-
tion, and the horror which strikes him on seeing the
blood which marks Gulnare's face, I cannot help ad-
miring Conrad, though he is said to "link one virtue
with a thousand crimes." Yet while Lord Byron's
poetry calls forth our highest admiration, I think it
262
CORRESPONDENCE OF MRS. TRENCH
un-
wants that pathos which touches the heart, and with
which Walter Scott so frequently calls. forth the “
bidden tear;" as when the minstrel
Busied himself the strings withal,
To hide the tears which fain would fall:
when the Scottish king apologises for his hasty reproof
of Angus, and the old man's tears come down like rain;
when young Duncan embraces his mother, and leaves
his unburied father to take the fiery cross; when James
“laid the clasp on Ellen's hand:"—these, and many
more exquisite paintings of nature, cannot be read un-
moved.
Affectionately thine,
C
M. LEADBEATER.
LXI. FROM MRS. TRENCH.
-
My pleasant friend,
For this epithet, in its softest and most dig-
nified sense, peculiarly belongs to her I now address;
your letter was reviving to my hopes about Ballybarney,
which a sensible person had represented to me as being
in a sad state. I hope he only viewed it as such in the
light of a mercantile transaction. In that point of view
I am quite satisfied. I am inclined to "show the fash-
ions on it," and why should one's charitable plans be
those alone on which one is ridiculed for having a little
whim?
Your anxiety to share with me whatever you most
AND MRS. LEADBEATER.
263
value is evident from the ardour with which you wish
me to become acquainted with those you love-so dif-
ferent from the world at large, who have a strange dis-
like to introducing their friends to each other. What
a gem is simplicity of character, and how careful in
education ought we to be to weed out all finesse and
management.
I thank you for the introduction of your friends to
the Bishop of Meath and Mr. O'Beirne. I had a few
hours' conversation with them, and they speak of you
in a manner perfectly in tune with my own feelings.
The bishop appears a distinguished person in mind and
manners. Will you oblige me with another copy of
Mr. O'Beirne's impression of Walter Scott; also of
your address to him, and his reply. You sec, dear
friend, he redeemed his word to you in pourtraying the
Irish character in his frank and sparkling Redmond
O'Neill; and it is you we should thank for the com-
pliment paid to our country.
Yours,
66
M. T.
EXTRACT OF A LETTER FROM MRS. O'BEIRNE TO MRS.
LEADBEATER.
"Edinburgh, January 13, 1812.
Amongst the families with which we became ac-
quainted immediately on our arrival here was that of
Walter Scott. They live within four doors of us, and our
acquaintance has now become intimacy. If I before ad-
mired him as a poet,-more, I confess, than I ever admired
264
CORRESPONDENCE OF MRS. TRENCH
anybody,—my admiration is not less since I became ac-
quainted with him on another score. That a man pos-
sessing such genius, and overwhelmed with the applause
of three nations, whose heads he must be sensible have
been turned by his works, should be without an atom of
pretension or affectation, but gay, good-humoured, and
natural to a degree not often met with, and willing to be
pleased with whatever trifle comes in the way, is to me a
matter of real wonder; because I have never in my life
met with a similar instance of all want of vanity and self-
love. He is uncommonly pleasant and lively in conversa-
tion, and his wife is a pleasing little woman, highly
sensible to, and jealous of, her husband's fame. They have
four charming children, from twelve to four years old, and
live comfortably and elegantly, though not ostentatiously.
We are frequently together, both in public and private,
and the more I know them the better I like them. Mr.
Scott has a small landed property on the banks of the
Tweed, in Roxbro'shire, a beautiful part of the country.
He is what is here termed an advocate, and what in Eng-
land and Ireland means a practising barrister. He has an
employment in the Court of Session of £1,500 a year, and
his works have been most productive. The harp of the
North will soon sound again, and I have been told the
bookseller gives him £3,000 for the work. I must add
that he is a good Christian and a loyal subject.”
MARY LEADBEATER'S ADDRESS TO WALTER SCOTT.
Oh! thou who soar'st with eagle flight
To regions of poetic light,
And by the magic of thy lays
Bring'st back the scenes of former days,
AND MRS. LEADBEATER.
265
Thou minstrel! say what bard of yore
A harp so tuned by nature bore,
Whether her varied charms to sing,
Or move the heart's responsive string?
O Caledonia! favoured land,
Where genius, science, taste expand,
Well may'st thou glory in thy son,
And wear the trophy he has won!
And see the generous bard even now
Binds the rich wreath on Britain's brow,
While forth he leads to thickest fight
In gallant show a British knight.
O minstrel! tune thy harp again,
Let not the sister isle complain ;
Pierce through oblivion's sullen shade,
Where Erin's chiefs in dust are laid,
And with thy song of potent might
Dispel their long-enduring night.
Loose these unworthy chains-unbind
The struggling and immortal mind;
And bare, all-powerful as thou art,
The son of Erin's glowing heart,
Where candour reigns, and native taste
Fair beams o'er an uncultured waste-
Where freedom, candour, taste agree
To pay the tribute due to thee.
Ballitore, 15th of Ninth-month, 1808.
[Sent to W. S. in 1811.]
WALTER SCOTT'S REPLY TO MARY LEADBEATER.
“ Madam,
"I am honoured by your beautiful verses, and
beg your acceptance of my most respectful thanks. You
266
CORRESPONDENCE OF MRS. TRENCH
do me great honour in supposing me able to celebrate a
nation in which I am so much interested as Ireland.
Whether I shall ever strike the harp again, my graver
occupations render very doubtful; but, should it so happen,
I will not fail to consider carefully the hint you have
favoured me with, especially should it ever be in my
power to visit Ireland. From the mode of dating your
letter, I conclude I am addressing a lady of a religious
profession for whose simplicity of manners and purity of
morals I have had from infancy the most deep respect,*
and which adds to the sense of obligation with which I
subscribe myself
.
"Your honoured and very humble servant,
"WALTER SCOTT.
Edinburgh, 12th March, 1812."
"C
LXII. FROM MRS. TRENCH.
London, June, 1814.
My dear Mrs. Leadbeater,
“Procrastination is the thief of many valu-
ables as well as of time;" so says Miss Ponsonby in one
* "The Covenanters crushed out learning, as they destroyed,
so far as was possible, every species of knowledge but their own
narrow tenets. The steady and determined persecution directed
by them against the Quakers especially deserves our notice, be-
cause a prominent victim was Walter Scott of Raeburn, ances-
tor of the novelist. He, like many others, was heavily fined,
imprisoned for several years, had his children taken from his
custody, and was fortunate in not being forced into exile, like
some members of the sect."-Saturday Review, Nov. 9, 1861.
From a notice of Robert Chambers' "Domestic Manners of
Scotland."
AND MRS. LEADBEATER,
267
of her letters to me, and often have I had cause to re-
member it. Procrastination has deprived me of the
pleasure of knowing your friends at Bath during my
late visit.
Business has brought us to London, and the difficulty
of procuring good apartments while the great people
were there detained us till after their departure. My
curiosity is not lively, and I made no efforts to see
them, except going one morning to Portsmouth to wit-
ness the entrée of Alexander, which enabled me to say
I had seen the outside of a shabby coach containing an
emperor within. This is "the head and front" of my
knowledge of this truly brilliant and heroic spectacle.
I have just heard a curious fact. Eighty guineas were
actually given after twelve o'clock at night for a ticket
for White's fête. The person who told me this said, “I
have a wish to go to Wattier's masquerade, but I am
stingy; I do not choose to give twenty guineas for my
ticket-they are now at that price." Observe, these are
fêtes given by clubs composed of the first people in the
country, so it is a curious circumstance that the tickets
should be sold for any money. There is a drawing-room
at court to day, but it was not announced till last night,
I believe from some apprehensions that John Bull might
again inquire of the Regent, "Where was his wife?"
and a desire that the mob should not know it in time
to collect in any numbers, as they hissed him when
going to the last. I did not see Madame de Staël, who
has left an unpleasing impression in London, except on
a few worth all the rest. People expected her to be
268
CORRESPONDENCE OF MRS. TRENCH
well-dressed, well-looking, soft-mannered, refined—
making no allowance for the effects of study, composi-
tion, energy, anxiety, and all the disturbances which
must affect a woman whose life has been employed in
the pursuit of literary fame.
The Irish peasant's idea that his cow, &c., is accepted.
in lieu of somewhat more precious, is an added proof
that the doctrine of atonement is either engraved on
our hearts as a primitive idea, or, if Locke forbids this
supposition, that we are so constituted as to have it
inevitably grafted by the circumstances of human life.
Every added proof to those already accumulated on this
great truth is acceptable, whether it come from the east
or the west.
I have such a charming letter to thank you for.
Your account of the resigned and ancient pair who have
borne affliction with so much grace, is one of those
tonics which strengthen the mind and assist in repelling
the contagious air of general society, where one of the
great objects aimed at is the exclusion of all that can
remind us we are subject to "the changes and chances
of this mortal life."
You are kind in wishing us in Ireland. Superior
education for my children in an atmosphere of purer
virtue and deeper sense of religion, the power of enjoy-
ing all the innocent pleasures of life without injuring
their future prospects by expenses, and my own health
all conspire to detain us here. We leave no gap, and
interrupt no course of duty. No deserted mansion claims
us within its ruined walls-no ancient followers look in
AND MRS. LEADBEATER.
269
vain for our protection. As it is, dear friend, we have
acted upon serious and conscientious grounds. But
setting our own case, which is a peculiar one, apart,
nothing has been more mistaken by the true friends of
Ireland than the effects occasioned by the residence of
some of her children in the sister country. Who are
most anxious for her prosperity? Allowing some bril-
liant exceptions, those who have mixed with English
society, who have visited England, who have seen the
humanity of the English landlords, the prosperity of her
peasantry, the comforts of her cottages. To improve a
country by forbidding her inhabitants to witness what
is done in those which precede in the race of virtue and
civilization, seems a solecism. Already much has been
done by the infusion of English society. Allowing that
absentees are truants, will lecturing them bring them
home? All good wives know the inefficacy of the pre-
scription. This does not apply to your kind wishes,
my dear friend. You never lecture any one, and yet I
believe you have made many converts.
If you have observed the lives of eminent persons,
you have probably remarked what a considerable num-
ber have been bound to some trade they disliked, and
seem to have studied with greater avidity and intense-
ness from temporary obstacles and interruptions.
Lord Byron is to marry Miss Milbanke, daughter of
Sir Ralph, of whom report speaks highly. The mar-
riage is suitable in every point of which man can judge.
She has been educated on a much more enlarged plan
than the tyranny of custom allots to women, and he
270
CORRESPONDENCE OF MRS. TRENCH
has loved her two years; but she has been cruel till
now.
-
I do indeed congratulate you on having gained a title
so dreaded by the vain and frivolous, so desired by the
affectionate. You must know in the circle which calls
itself the world, the word [grandmother] is nearly ex-
ploded, and grandchildren are taught to distinguish
their parents in the first and second line, as "Mamma
Leadbeater," &c. without using the terrific trisyllable.
M. T.
LXIII. -FROM MRS. LEADBEATER.
Ballitore, 1814.
Thy account of the finely dressed people surrounding
the finely dressed dinner-tables reminds me in a curious
way of what my mother used to tell of an elderly woman,
who chanced to be at my father's when Edmund Burke
took a night's lodging there en passant. He pursued
his journey at seven o'clock in the morning, and at that
hour the citizeness appeared in the parlour full dressed
in her richest negligée.
We hear that the Princess Charlotte has cast off the
fetters of her exalted rank, and asserts the privilege of
her sex by refusing the husband chosen for her; and
that the Prince and Princess of Wales were both at the
theatre, and interchanged marks of respect! We hear
also that the Emperor of Russia was at one of our meet-
ings, and shook hands with the Friends after meeting.
His sister, the Duchess of Oldenburgh, had been there
AND MRS. LEADBEATER.
271
before, heard Stephen Grellet preach, and expressed her
satisfaction. Stephen was once a page to the beautiful
Queen of France; he left his native country for Ame-
rica at the time of the revolution, joined the Society of
Friends when there, and became a preacher. So thou
sees tidings of the great world are wafted to our hum-
ble village.
At no time of my life have I looked up with respect
to wealth, and the admiration with which I beheld mere
beauty passed away with the object; but the mind rich
in the gifts of a bountiful Giver, cultivated highly by
education and research, had always a commanding in-
fluence over me; and if beauty chanced to adorn it,
and wealth increased its power of doing good, I fear that
influence was increased fully as much as it ought to be.
I am obliged to thee for placing in a just point of view
your absence, and the absence of such as you from Ire-
land. I had, however, no doubt of it, and my wish, the
wish of years, was prompted more by selfishness than by
worthier feelings.
t
Thy affectionate friend,
MARY LEADBEATER.
LXIV. FROM MRS. TRENCH.
June, 1815.
I have just received your long and delightful letter-
delightful I must call it, though it contains so many
melancholy details, as it shows the blue serene which
smiles above the temporary clouds and storm. I saw
the death of one of the assistants in Ballitore school,
272
CORRESPONDENCE OF MRS. TRENCH
and I feared you were in affliction, for I know you can
always say with Miranda, "Oh, I have suffered with
those whom I saw suffer." As to me, my last alarm
has confirmed me in that state of constant recollection
of that frail tenure of all earthly goods which some
moralists recommend, but which I cannot think was
intended by Providence; as everything in nature seems
designed to prevent us from dwelling on it; and as our
not thinking of it perpetually in spite of all the veils
thrown over it seems to me a constant miracle, and one
of the strongest proofs that the great Disposer “wills
the happiness of His creatures." Madame de Staël
justly says, "La vie ne va, que parcequ'on oublie la mort."
Since I wrote to you we were at a morning concert
of sacred music, given for a charitable purpose, in the
beautiful Gothic cathedral of Gloucester. This is a truly
national amusement-polished, pure, and dignified. It
owes nothing to the glare of tapers, the false spirits of
the evening hour, the splendour of ornaments, or any
theatrical illusion. The performance of Handel's "Dead
March in Saul" was singularly affecting, and as the
double drum echoed, reverberated, and died away along
the aisles, it had to the imagination the effect of cannon
among distant hills-while the sounds of the wind
instruments floated through the lofty roof with the
most plaintive sweetness.
Sunday [June 25th]-All here are in the tears and
triumph of a dear-bought victory.* The ecstacy with
* The Battle of Waterloo.
AND MRS. LEADBEATER.
273
which it is said to be received exists but in the papers.
Buonaparte abdicates, forced to this act by the senate
he himself convened. This is the most remarkable
event, perhaps, of this eventful time.
Your amusing packets always diffuse cheerfulness
over my horizon, or rather increase that which, I thank
heaven, does not often forsake me. Indeed I do consi-
der that moment as most fortunate to me which made
us acquainted. You know not of how much use you
have been to my mind, nor what moral benefit is
derived from intercourse with you, dear friend.
Paris, November, 1815.-I can give you no account of
Paris. I came only to see Charles, and I have seen
nothing else, except what forces itself on a traveller. I
have seen women holding the plough, and men selling
caps, trying them on their customers with the assurance
of their being perfectly becoming. One of those amphi-
bious creatures, highly dressed and ornamented, inflames
a milliner's bill prodigiously-on which an English lady
here said, "I never deal at shops where they are to be
found, as I hate paying for the sight of a man." I in-
habit an apartment that affects to be luxurious. In one
of the rooms there are seven large looking-glasses in-
serted in the walls. But my bedroom is without a
carpet or a bell, and the curtains both of my bed and
windows are of unlined tambour muslin; so I shiver in
state; and when I want any attendance in my bedroom,
I must either run or roar for my maid, which is not
accordant to the dignified appearance of the first coup
d'œil of my apartment. A thousand such contrasts
VOL. II.-18
274
CORRESPONDENCE OF MRS. TRENCH
offer themselves. None are more disagreeable to me
than those springing from affected politeness and real
coarseness of habits.
You asked me in a former letter about Mrs. Piozzi.
She is about sixty or seventy, lively, animated, agree-
able in countenance, and, as far as I could judge in a
mixed company, in manners also. You may judge of
her vigor and spirits, when I tell you that two years
since she went to a masquerade, disguised as a constable,
attended by the Dowager Lady Bellmore and Miss
Caldwell as watchmen; and they amused themselves
throwing the whole assembly into consternation by
pretending they had a warrant to imprison them as
engaged in an illegal amusement. In my youth I used
to hear that "cards were better than scandal," as if
there was no third manner of passing the evening.
Adieu, my dear Mrs. Leadbeater. Ever yours, de pres
et de loin, l'été et l'hyver,
LXV. FROM MRS. LEADBEATER.
M. T.
1816.
I think these times cannot last long, for such a scar-
city of money and consequent distress I believe was
scarcely ever known in this country. Many have been
reduced from affluence to penury. Farmers are obliged
to dismiss their labourers, and the poor are distressed
for want of work. Most people are put to their wits'
ends to fulfil their engagements and avoid ruin, and
AND MRS. LEADBEATER.
275
emigrations to America are very frequent. We perceive
that the agricultural interests of this country have come
before parliament, and are in hopes that something
effectual will be done for the relief of the farmers, on
whom so much depends. The extravagant prices for
the produce of land led the cultivators into expenses,
the consequences of which now embarrass them; but
these embarrassments, when overcome, may be a profit-
able lesson for future times. Even authors feel the
pinch. Booksellers are afraid to venture on what there
is but a chance will be purchased, and I am almost
afraid this may be the case with my friend Cumming,
though he has not told me so, and I am going on with
my "Biography." I will give thee one specimen de-
scribing an Irish funeral which I attended in my youth.
When mentioning the ceremonies observed there, I
remark :—“But much more impressive than these rites
was the deep and silent sorrow visible in the counte-
nances of the widow, children, and other relatives, whose
grief for long-buried friends seemed roused anew. One
young woman, weeping at the grave of her brother,
complained that though it was ten years since she had
seen him, he would not speak to her now a conceit
which would not disgrace a polished elegy, and which
I myself heard uttered.
>>
There are trials of faith and patience allotted to us,
and perhaps if we endeavour to submit our wills to the
ordering of Him who orders all aright, the bitter cups
may sometimes be permitted to pass from us, or we may
be enabled to drink them without sinking underneath
18*
276
CORRESPONDENCE OF MRS. TRENCH
our afflictions; knowing that these endure comparatively
for a moment, and that there is a place where sin and
sorrow can never enter, and where all tears are wiped
from our eyes. As to myself, my day is declining, and
if my spirit becomes purified by affliction, I have reason
to kiss the rod, and to bless the hand which inflicts the
stroke of salutary pain. What is thy opinion, dear
friend, as to our knowledge of each other in a future
state? Sometimes I think it would be inexpressible
happiness to behold again those so well beloved on
earth, and to think of so doing would increase the
desire heavenward. Yet this is but a selfish desire,
and tends to fasten us still more to earth; so that these
mysteries are wisely concealed from us. At present, a
brighter sky seems to smile upon us, and I believe it is
right to enjoy it, endeavouring to chasten that hope
with quiet resignation as to the future.
We have had a time of great alarm; the uncommon
wetness of the cold summer prevented the grain from
ripening, and there was a blight on the wheat.
Yet a
little fine weather raised the farmer's spirits, and the
crops were promising. When reaping time came-and
it did not come in the usual course-then came rain in
abundance, the sheaves were drenched, and the unreaped
corn laid down by its continuance, so that the husband-
man knew not what to do, whether to cut his corn or
not. There was sadness on most countenances, but
little complaining, and I hope no inward murmurs.
Our poor are patient, and they encourage hope. "The
potato crop will not be lost," they said; but the grain
AND MRS. LEADBEATER.
277
they gave up, and said, "It is the will of God." Such
weather as this I remember in the year 1782. It con-
tinued through the harvest, and a famine ensued.
Lately peace and plenty were found fault with; the
reverse would be dreadful. At length the skies have
cleared, and He in whose hand are the issues of life
has been pleased to avert the threatened prospect of
famine; the crops, though greatly injured, are not lost,
and much exertion is being used to preserve them; the
priest from the altar desiring his hearers should after
mass address themselves to work, and save the food of
the country.
I have not met with the "Story of Rimini ;" but I do
not like the story. There is something very revolting
in the idea of a woman loving another man better than
her husband, and this makes me look upon
"Zeluco"
as a dangerous book. Hast thou not traced the source
of the frequent divorces in the reading of the present
day-perverting the young, vain, uncultivated mind?
Why, amongst the many songs which float on the gale,
and influence young minds so much with the double
charm of poetry and melody, are there so very few in
praise of married life? The passion of love and the
pleasures of the chase or the bottle are not subjects
calculated to improve the mind. What can be more
pleasing among those than the simple joy at the hus-
band's return expressed in "There's nae luck about
the house," or than "The land o' the leal," and "John
Anderson, my joe!" Thine,
MARY LEADBEATER.
278
CORRESPONDENCE OF MRS. TRENCH
LXVI.-FROM MRS. TRENCH.
1816.
I have seen, but am not personally acquainted with
that prince of modern poets, Lord Byron. It is said he
has behaved unkindly to his wife. I doubt his having
been much to blame, because her friends and partizans
have in my hearing brought forward the most vague and
pitiful accusations. She was unfortunately very young
and an heiress, had moved in the highest circles, was
lovely, richly endowed in mental gifts, an only child,
and educated by a doting father and mother. Strike
out any one of these, and perhaps she might have been
more capable of soothing the irritability often attendant
on genius, and bending her will to the occasional and
transient caprices of one so much admired, especially by
our sex, that he must have been more than man had he
escaped being a little spoiled. I believe his faults have
been cruelly magnified by those who lead the world ;
first, from the desire of levelling such pre-eminent
genius; next, because he wrote verses satirizing the
Regent, and blaming unnecessary war, and is what some
are therefore pleased to call a democrat; and, thirdly,
because he is of a retired disposition, lives on biscuit
and water, and enters not warmly into the pleasures
peculiar to this dinner-loving age.
You ask me how I approve of the Princess's marriage.
I join in the general chorus of approbation, and think
AND MRS. LEADBEATER.
279
everything I have heard of her and him announces
good sense and kind feelings. It is a delightful thing
thus to invigorate the character of a royal dynasty, by
engrafting on it the sentiments and habits of one who
was brought up in most respects as a private gentleman
of very small fortune; and it is delightful to those who
love the Princess Charlotte, to think that she has had
the happiness so rare in her situation-rare in any
situation, perhaps unique in hers-of marrying the
person of her choice with the full approbation of her
friends and the world.
Our prospects in England, with the wet harvest
threatening here also, are very gloomy. Yet this is
the moment the Prince chooses for the most sumptuous
entertainments-entertainments of which the expense
would fertilize a province. You sometimes desire news,
my dear friend, forgetting that my general life is that
of a married hermit. From those who do mix with the
world I hear that the Regent's last illness followed an
evening passed between a bottle of noyau and a bottle
of alcohol. When royalty has such supporters, a king-
dom is on the road to ruin. You know the Scripture,
"Woe to the land where the princes love strong drink;"
I forget the place, and may not be exact in the words.
His daughter did not visit him in this dangerous ill-
ness; there she was wrong, but few have such excuses
in extenuation. His wicked plan of divorcing her
mother must irritate her extremely, and, if it succeed,
and that his future marriage produce a son, may in-
volve the kingdom in a civil war; for I do imagine
280
CORRESPONDENCE OF MRS. TRENCH
there is a powerful aristocracy in England predetermin-
ed to believe that any such child must be suppositious,
and to treat it as another pretender. The considerable
loss to the kingdom by the number of efficient hands
unemployed, and supported by poor-rates at present,
will be long felt, even were employment to recommence
with its former vigor. The wild plan of quieting the
demands of a whole hungry nation by a paltry sub-
scription is seen in its true light. It is a mere little
shabby fringe tagged to the poor-rates and productive
of all their bad effects; for alas! reading, observation,
and the conversation of sensible men well versed in the
subject force me to retract my former admiration of
them.
In whatever disposition of mind I may be when I
receive your letters, their effect on me is the same :-
Round a holy calm diffusing,
Love of peace and lonely musing;
and none tend more to elevate and ameliorate my mind.
You and yours live in a peaceable atmosphere of family
affections, of well-directed energies, and of pure religious
sentiments, which seem so fit a preparation for a superior
existence, that the loss of one of your friends seems more
like a sad and tender separation, than that total and
frightful disruption which in other cases fills the mind
with awe and terror. Tell me soon again of your dear
daughter, your still dearer self, and your other treasures.
How I admired the purity of mind which could dictate
the words, "There is something very revolting in the
AND MRS. LEADBEATER.
281
idea of a woman loving another man better than her
husband." You cannot think how this phrase, falling
quite naturally from your pen, struck me as a sort of
specimen of the golden age; for almost every modern
poem, every play, every novel is so twisted and twined
with the idea of a woman preferring another to him she
has vowed to love, that it requires a noble mind dipt
in the purest dews of delicacy to continue to feel it
"revolting" as well as guilty and unfortunate.
Ever yours,
LXVII.-FROM MRS. TRENCH.
M. T.
4th November, 1816.
You are so kind to me, my dearest friend, that I should
feel wanting in due respect for friendship so tender if I
suffered you to hear from common report that my lovely
blossom is now in her little coffin, where I have just
kissed her beautiful marble brow; for she was and is
beautiful, though I restrained myself from ever talking
of her personal perfections. What is more important,
she was heavenly minded, as far as four years and three
months would admit. Her latest request was to look
at the stars. The last thing she learned by heart was,
"Lord, now lettest thou thy servant depart in peace ;"
and when, two days after her death, I wished to read
the resurrection of Lazarus, and could not recollect the
place, I found it marked with a little daisy she had put
in to preserve. These are circumstances of no painful
282
CORRESPONDENCE OF MRS. TRENCH
recollection; and her docility, gentleness, joyousness,
piety, patience, affection, gave me a practical comment
on the words asserting that the angels of little children
"do always behold the face of my Father in heaven."
But that her illness commenced in my absence, and
was not immediately encountered on my return with
the best medical advice, doubles my affliction-barbs
and poisons the dart. I am well in health, and I hope
I am resigned. You know how the loss of an only
daughter, who, to the weakness of mortal eyes, appeared
faultless, and who had all the attractions which endear
a child to strangers as well as friends --you know how
it must darken the remaining years of a mother past
the age of hoping for any new blessings, but clinging
too eagerly to those she already possesses. God bless
you, my dear, dear friend, and preserve you from such
affliction. You can never know such, for you are
always the constant companion of your children, and
cannot feel the regrets and self-reproach which consume
one who often left hers to the care of others. This may
be often palliated, but it is never right; and when a
misfortune of this kind happens, it adds self-reproach,
the worst of ills, to every other. She died at seven in
the morning of the first of November. Her disorder
was the croup, and similar to that which deprived us
ten years ago of her brother, whom she closely resem-
bled.
Yours most affectionately,
M. T.
AND MRS. LEADBEATER.
283
LXVIII.-FROM MRS. TRENCH.
November 22nd.
My dear friend had not received my account of my
late misfortune when she wrote last; but ere this my
letter has reached her, and has awakened the sym-
pathies of her kind heart. Time and religion will do
much, but the loss of that lovely little being, who never
gave me an anxiety, except in trying to moderate the
joy and suppress the pride she inspired, must be felt as
long as life endures. I allow that I scarce mentioned
her, so afraid was I of exultation or vanity, and I par-
ticularly avoided speaking of her beauty, as I dreaded
her being known in any way which might excite those
feminine weaknesses so fatal to our sex. I was bring-
ing her up in the simplest manner, and she never re-
quired reproof-the mildest recommendation of what
was good sufficed, she was so gentle, devoted, docile,
and joyous. I shall send the books, but do not be sur-
prised at my not writing with them. I am not at pre-
sent fitted for common subjects, and a continuation of
this would grieve you and perhaps make me worse. I
shall be pleased, my dear friend, if these prove of any
use to your charitable plans.
I am ever yours,
M. T.
284
CORRESPONDENCE OF MRS. TRENCH
LXIX. FROM MRS. LEADBEATER.
Ballitore, 16th of Eleventh-month, 1816.
This morning when I saw thy letter, my dear friend,
I laid it aside until my morning's avocations were
finished, frequently saying that my forbearance would
be richly rewarded. It was well I did so, for the shock
of grief it occasioned would have made it difficult for
me to attend to anything but the picture of thee bend-
ing over thy lovely faded flower. Indeed, many true
and sympathising tears are flowing for thee here this
morning; and, could we take a part of thy trouble to
ourselves, so as to relieve one who so tenderly sym-
pathized with us, and who has given us such a proof of
her friendship in taking up the pen to inform us of
this lamented event, oh! surely we would do so.
When we consider how soon this life will come to an
end, should we not be thankful for every dispensation
which tends to prepare us for that state where there is
not change, where the tears are wiped from all eyes,
where we shall no longer see as through a glass darkly!
Even in this life a degree of this experience, I believe,
is attained, when we can commit ourselves and all that
is ours to Him who pitieth us as a father pitieth his
children, who doth not afflict willingly, but knows the
best time to call the spirit home. I have had frequently
to acknowledge that the sorest deprivations I have en-
dured were appointed in wisdom and mercy; and so
AND MRS. LEADBEATER.
285
wilt thou, my dear friend, when the smart of this wound
is a little allayed by time, by thy remaining blessings,
and by the balm which the great Physician will pour
into it. But why need I offer any motives for consola-
tion? These are often so unskilfully presented, that
they aggravate rather than comfort. May He who is
the Source of good strengthen you under this affliction!
Our dejected countries want the example of good
men. I think our poor, distressed as they are, are better
off than the English. The potato crop has been saved,
and is a good one. One day's frost before they were
dug out caused great and universal dismay, but was
productive of good. It seemed sent as a warning, for it
disappeared next day, and all hands went to work.
I am much obliged for "The Moonlanders,"* the most
beautiful fanciful poem I have read for a long time;
from beginning to end it runs a clear, sparkling stream
of the sweetest harmony, the purest ideas, and most in-
genious invention.
MARY LEADBEATER.
LXX. FROM MRS. TRENCH.
B
3rd December.
Your kind letter, my dearest friend, contains all that
consolation can suggest, and I hope in time to be
capable of looking on my affliction as I ought. If I said
that I did so at present, I fear I should add the guilt of
* A Poem by Mrs. Trench.
285
CORRESPONDENCE OF MRS. TRENCH
hypocrisy to the want of that due resignation I hope to
attain. I am aware my sorrow is selfish, yet I cannot
suppress it. She was my secret hoard of promised
gratification and delight. I spoke of her but little,
partly from not wishing to show my pride in her sweet
disposition, and partly from a natural tendency in the
heart to silence on what interests it very deeply.
That part of resignation which acknowledges that it
has deserved punishment far more severe, is mine in its
fullest extent; and I have struggled successfully for
outward composure, except in the first overpowering
agitation of hope and fear, when, perhaps, I gave way
to more impetuous grief than is permitted. My health
is good, and, though my prospects in life are quite
changed, I hope not to indulge in low spirits so as to
become burthensome or useless.
27th. My sons do all they can, young as they are,
to console me.
The three eldest have redoubled their
attention to all their little duties.
The meeting of Parliament, it is hoped, will dispel
part of the clouds which hang over us. The horizon is
black indeed; nothing short of wisdom scarce to be ex-
pected from man, or some extraordinary and unexpected
event vouchsafed by Providence, can save these king-
doms from the worst of ills. I hope much from the
illumination diffused amongst the people. Their pa-
tience hitherto has been exemplary, and has rewarded
a hundredfold those who laid its foundation by diffusing
the blessings of education. All parties must resign
something, except those who have already been so
0
AND MRS. LEADBEATER.
287
crushed as to have nothing to give up. If you see the
Examiner and Globe, you will find a proposal of mine
for public dormitories, under certain regulations, during
this dreadful convulsion of distress. Is it applicable to
Ireland? I do not take the papers, and have not eyes
for copying, or I would send my letter. I continue
well, but under considerable dejection, and an apathy
very opposite to my nature and habits.
LXXI.-FROM MRS. TRENCH.
M. T.
January 7th, 1817,
I have just returned from the house of a friend
where we passed some days. The quiet, sensible con-
versation and tranquil life of her small party has been
of use to me, while total change of scene and of topics
accelerated in some degree the effects of time. I do not
disdain any means, nor neglect any efforts which can
aid me in returning to my usual habits. To my usual
feelings it is impossible I can ever entirely return. We
may lose the sensation of pain where a limb has been
amputated, but I know by experience that the sense
of privation must frequently recur; and were affection
to be much fainter than it ever has been in my heart,
the very spirit of calculation on one's pleasure must
ever recal the lovely, lively, blooming image of one who
would have embellished the home of advancing years,
and sparkled like the evening star on one's approach-
ing night. I say not this in the language of complaint
-I know, and I best know, that I have been favoured
by Providence far above my deserts, and that I have
288
CORRESPONDENCE OF MRS. TRENCH
blessings far above the usual lot of mortality. I say it
from a habit of opening my heart, with some of its
weaknesses (who will dare to say they open all ?) to a
dear and candid friend.
Affectionately yours,
LXXII. -FROM MRS. LEADBEATER.
M. T.
Ballitore, 14th of First-month, 1817.
Ah! what true resignation is there in those endea-
vours for resignation! I doubt not thou receivest con-
solation from the best source, and in the reflection that
the seal is now put on the perfections of thy little angel,
and that thou may contemplate them without a fear of
disappointment; for in this life of trial the best dis-
position and the best education may be overpowered by
temptation; but I do not wish to dwell on a subject so
distressing.
My daughter does not lose ground, and my want of
grateful feelings suitable to the deliverance from great
alarm is so well expressed in the following lines, that I
must quote them, as they often pass through my mind:
Yet oh! I feel how feebly I adore.
How full, how fervent my petitions flew
On eagle wing to Heaven's celestial floor,
For mercy at Thy gracious throne to sue.
That mercy gained, how cold my words! how faint! how few!
Thine affectionately,
MARY LEADBEATER.
AND MRS. LEADBEATER.
289
LXXIII.—FROM MRS. TRENCH.
March, 1817.
My dear friend,
You are most soothing in your expressions of
sympathy and consolation. I do not grow less sensible
of my loss, but I become accustomed to it. Sometimes
a quick perception of former pleasure in that delightful
gift of Heaven will return. I remember how I felt in
looking at her opening beauty, hearing her gay, gentle
voice, and watching her dawn of little joys and virtues;
and I recollect the hope that attended all this, and
shudder at the privation, and wonder most of all that I
am not more afflicted, as I cannot boast that resignation
to Heaven is the sole cause of my comparative com-
posure. If it were, it would operate in a different man-
Madame de Sevigné says truly, "On est si faible
qu'on se console;" and we attribute to our strength
what we owe to our weakness-to our willingness, when
the flower is gone, to be occupied with the weed. It is
certain that there may be those whose consolations
spring solely from religion. I speak only for myself
and the majority who have fallen under my observation.
My dear friend, your idea of death setting the seal on
the fate of an innocent child is as beautiful and con-
soling as it is just.
ner.
Thanks for the interest you take in my plans of
making amusement-I mean my own amusement, not
VOL. II.-19
290
CORRESPONDENCE OF MRS. TRENCH
that of my readers-subservient to charity. Most peo-
ple are more vain of their dance than their walk, their
song than their speech, their verse than their prose, but
I know my prose is much better than my verse;
because the want of that command of language, preci-
sion, and harmony of expression, gained by a classical
education, and the study of the poetry of Greece and
Rome, is more apparent in verse than prose.
You say the pressure of the times affects your reposi-
tory. Alas! it has touched every fibre in the empire.
I hope we may be favoured with strong hands and heads
to guide us out of the darkness visible. At present we
have a starving population, an overwhelming debt,
impoverished landholders, bankrupt or needy traders,
unemployed farmers and labourers; but we have fine
balls at the Regent's, and a strong spirit of luxury
cherished and awakened by the great, and thence de-
scending to the poor, through every class of society.
You know that it is three years since I lamented in my
own circle the expensive and wasteful folly of the din-
ners; which were precisely the same, except in the
value of the plate, in the house of a man of £3,000 or
£30,000 a year. I do not say that this has brought us
to our present state, for it is the taxes and great estab-
lishments that have done that; but it has given a
helping hand. Not a pauper in the workhouse will eat
any but the finest wheaten bread; not an upper ser-
vant in any family like my own but must have four
shillings a day, and, when travelling, six shillings;
not a maid-servant, except in a farmer's or tradesman's
AND MRS. LEADBEATER.
291
family, who will wear a stuff gown; not a young lady
who must not have the best, alias the most expensive,
music-master, and a grand piano-forte at eighty-five
guineas. I could multiply instances through a folio
sheet.
All earthly sufferings you know return in paroxysms;
mine are nearly as frequent; yet I have done all that
my friends wished, have seen a variety of things and
persons, mingled in crowds, &c. Employment more
solid would be better for a mind like mine; but having
this depends not on one's self when one is married and
a mother.
May. Your kind letter and the beautiful poem it
enclosed, my dear friend, were most soothing to my
heart. They found me in the country, where, thank
God, after the first pangs incident to revisiting a scene
of affliction, I have been more composed than while
following the advice of my friends in seeking amuse-
ment and variety.
June.-London is full, in spite of the nonpayment of
rents. Many starving in the streets; yet opera boxes
are so high that a friend of mine gives fifty guineas
for ten nights; she has five places for each night. These
are strange contrasts. No one knows yet how the state
trials will end; the most clever and knowing presage
opposite results. A man of great talent, Wortler, au-
thor of "The Black Dwarf," has had the light thrown
on him by a prosecution for a libel. His eloquence
would otherwise have remained unknown.
He is a
man of so vigorous and prompt a mind, that he prints
19*
292
CORRESPONDENCE OF MRS. TRENCH
off his own conceptions without the intervention of a
written copy.
Do you not think our countrymen usually fix them-
selves in houses and demesnes too large for their for-
tune, or for their pleasure and comfort? There are
certain limits within which an animal six feet high
can be best accommodated. These limits are in some
degree variable, but none can go much too far beyond
them without some sacrifice of enjoyment. Rousseau,
the much calumniated Rousseau, has explained this
admirably.
July.-I am once more in my green nest, with my
four boys, and have been some time very anxious to
hear from you. Your dear daughter's delicate health
fills me with a thousand fears when there is a long
interval between your letters. I hope she will soon
recover entirely, and look back on her illness, as I can
do on all mine, with a deep sense of its advantages-as
a touchstone of the affection of those we love; a bond
of union twined by protecting care on one hand and
gratitude on the other; a remembrancer of the precari-
ous tenure of earthly blessings; a new source of sym-
pathy with those who suffer; and a dark shade which
throws into gayer and purer lights all the common and
therefore generally unobserved blessings of existence.
I can give you no news. Our population, though of
necessity idle, and therefore hungry, are surprisingly
quiet. The miseries entailed by war are now beginning
to be felt all over the globe. The loans and gratuities
of government are but drops in a sandy desert; and as
AND MRS. LEADBEATER.
293
government must take two drops for every one they
give (to pay for the machinery of taxation and finance),
we, like Mr. Primrose, “never find out we grow richer
by all their contrivances." In short, all are growing
poorer; and though philosophers tell us that to sink
all together is to keep the same place, they have not
quite persuaded us this is practically true. If our time
of decline as a nation is marked, I hope it may not be
sudden, but so gradual as to cause as little individual
misery as possible.
Oh, do not say you are growing old." I am not
good enough to bear to hear my friends say this with-
out great pain. May every storm blow over your inno-
cent and happy dwelling unfelt, is the prayer of your
affectionate
(C
LXXIV. FROM MRS. LEADBEATER.
M. T.
Ballitore, Fourth-month, 1817.
Ever dear friend,
Thy letters have brought great comfort to my
mind about thyself; but the state of England which
thou gives me a peep at is indeed awful. These are
distressing times, and I think luxury must be laid
aside; if not from mercy, from shame, or from prin-
ciple, perhaps necessity will compel it. Here the wea-
ther is favourable to the farmer's hopes, and he antici-
pates a plentiful harvest; but through how long a
perspective must he view this uncertain good! The
294
CORRESPONDENCE OF MRS. TRENCH
potato crop is good here, but there is much pilfering
of potato-pits, and cutting of hedges and young trees
for fuel, which is very scarce and dear. There is a
good deal done to alleviate the distress of the poor
throughout our island, and I do believe the indigent
man would break his last potato and divide it at the
appeal of hunger. Our peasantry have now an advan-
tage over the English, for I think it is literally true
that they would live where the English would starve.
There has been violence used on the canal, and boats
have been robbed of provisions. The first offence was
let pass with impunity, and the plunderers were per-
mitted to retain the booty; this mistaken kindness has
opened a door for outrage, and now soldiers are sta-
tioned along the canal. It has been discovered that
not the starving poor, but some farmers, were the ag-
gressors. Associations are forming to buy food for the
distressed, and sell it at reduced prices. Fuel is very
scarce, the turf having suffered so much by the wet
season. A banditti is about the country, and about
two o'clock, a few mornings since, we were alarmed by
their entering the village for plunder. However, after
some shots were fired, they absconded. We who recol-
lect the former horrors after the Rebellion suffer from
apprehension of a repetition of them; but the young
folk have formed themselves into a body for patrolling
the village and its environs.
The dread of famine has now passed away; the great
quantities of American flour bought in have lowered
the price of ours, and millers are likely to be losers.
AND MRS. LEADBEATER.
295
There is undoubtedly great distress in the land, and to
be able to support our own independence and assist the
needy we must submit to many privations; yet hope
looks forward to brighter days.
We have heard of a Thady Connellan, from Con-
naught, who has left the Romish profession, and goes
about teaching the people to read the Bible in Irish;
he pretends not to preach, but only to read the Scrip-
tures, and this has been a means of enlightening so
many, that his life has been in danger from the dis-
pleasure of the bigots. He has just sailed for England,
intending to spend about three months with the Bible
Society in London; furthermore, he says he will trans-
late "Cottage Dialogues" into Irish. I wish thou may
meet with him; I hear that his conversation is enter-
taining as well as instructive, abounding with plain
good sense, and delivered with the strong Connaught
accent.
I am now glad I did not get thy letter so soon as I
wished, for thou art recovered. I can perfectly under-
stand the feelings thou describes, and, though thy
humility causes thee to be unconscious of it, yet I
believe that "comparative composure" does arise from
resignation. I have found more comfort in quietly
sitting down, and letting the waves and the billows
pass over me, than in endeavouring to fly from them,
and this I believe thou experiences. I hope the calm
of the country has tended to allay those pangs which
must recur but too often; but the good Samaritan is
near, and the oil and wine are poured into thy wound.
296
CORRESPONDENCE OF MRS. TRENCH
One of my first griefs was the death of a little boy from
Bourdeaux, who came here at five years and a half old.
He took measles, consumption succeeded, and he died.
My heart seemed rent asunder, for I loved him as if he
had been my little brother, and I feel the scar still;
but when France fell into so dreadful a state I thought
often of my little David, and rejoiced at his escape.
from evil. In a little while our places also shall know
us no more. May we be strengthened to endeavour
for a place in that kingdom into which the innocent
spirits are admitted!
Farewell, dear friend,
M. LEADBEATER.
LXXV.-FROM MRS. LEADBEATER.
Ballitore, 27th of Sixth-month, 1817.
My valued friend,
I received thine of the roth, along with poetry
of such beauty and pathos that the mingled sensations
of pleasure and pain were powerfully excited by it.
But what can we say but that the Judge of the whole
earth doeth right? And while one wave of sorrow pur-
sues another, let us endeavour so to steer our barque
that it shall be wafted over them to a place where the
tears shall be wiped from all eyes. I ought to have
written to thee before, and wanted to do so ere the
Farmer's Journal or some other paper should announce
to thee our unspeakable loss; but now I need not tell
thee of my dear, excellent William P. Le Fanu, that
AND MRS. LEADBEATER.
297
"his bright and brief career is o'er." We had heard
he was not in danger; and a letter by private hand of
the 22nd said, "William is really better, and he begins
to joke again;" for his pleasantry flowed from the spring
of his pure heart, and was ever and anon delighting all
around him. Alas! a few hours after that letter came,
another by the post announced his death, and spread
over all Ballitore dismay and astonishment, as well as
sincere and deep sorrow. All seemed to wonder he
should die; for those who loved him (and they were
all those who knew him) clung to him with no com-
mon attachment. There are some who can descend
with so much ease from the exalted orb in which they
are placed, and who "bear their faculties so meekly,"
that though our admiration is increased hereby, it is
swallowed up in love. The affliction of all the families
of which he was a most beloved member is not to be
told. When his case was pronounced hopeless, his
aged uncle—the pleasant, gay, benign Peter Le Fanu-
fainted away. The children of a school which he has
supported for the last sixteen years attended his funeral,
singing hymns, which were interrupted by bitter sob-
bing. Have I not dwelt too long on this subject?
I have read "Manfred," and think it of a piece with
Lord Byron's other productions, which grow more and
more gloomy, like the thunder-cloud, which, though so
frequently enlivened by the exquisite splendour of the
lightning flash, leaves its dark impression on the mind.
The other night there was a most beautiful and sublime
exhibition of lightning to the east and north-east. The
298
CORRESPONDENCE OF MRS. TRENCH
clouds seemed to open and display a refulgence which
we compared to the reception we might suppose given
to a new inhabitant of heaven. By-and-by the night-
bird, our Irish Philomel, sang beside her native Griese
at about eleven o'clock at night. Forty years ago we
used to hear it-then she was silent for thirty years,
when the song was renewed; and since then till now
we have not been solaced with it.
Farewell, my dear friend,
MARY LEADBEATER.
LXXVI.—FROM MRS. TRENCH.
15th July, 1817.
My dear friend,
Excuse me for having delayed replying to
your last kind letter. I had only known Mr. Le Fanu
by his virtues, his talents, and the impression he had
made on your mind. Nothing earthly had therefore
mingled with my ideas of him, and I as little conceived
he could die as if he had been already a disembodied
intelligence. I had always looked forward to seeing
and conversing with him as one of the pleasures of my
future life, and by his "Sunday Readings," from which
some seed of improvement was always obtained, he kept
up a sort of influence over my mind, and suffered not
the interest his character inspired to fade away. In
short, I never felt so keen regret for any person with
whom I had not been personally acquainted, nor did
AND MRS. LEADBEATER.
299
I conceive it possible. I can easily imagine what a
blank this will create for a time in the pleasures of your
social circle, and how many plans of benevolence will
be frustrated. Is there no one to whom his mantle will
descend, who will keep his place in active charity and
sympathy for the poor, in mild indulgence and yet
firmness in speaking disagreeable truths when condu-
cive to the cause of virtue and morality? Your letter
gave me the first information of this public and private
misfortune. I grieve for the present extinction of a
light which has illumined your path, but I reflect
with pleasure on the comfort you derive from the hope
of seeing it burning with steady and unfading bright-
ness.
September, 1817.-I have just read your beautiful
lines on Mr. Le Fanu's death, which appear to Mr.
Trench and me the most excellent of all your poetical
productions. Let no one say that real grief is a foe to
the charms of composition. This is one of the com-
monplaces of "gentle dulness," ever anxious to sepa-
rate what Providence has in most instances united,
talent and sensibility. One of my correspondents has
written to me,
W. P. L. died on the 23rd June, 1817.
Alas! poor Ireland !
Is not this in itself an epitaph ?
I hear the Prince Regent was very much frightened
by receiving a mysterious present of a snuff-box set
with brilliants, in which were written in a beautiful
300
CORRESPONDENCE OF MRS. TRENCH
hand three verses taken from the 21st chapter of the
book of Ezekiel, the 24th, 25th, and 26th verses.
was sent by the public coach.
It
M. TRENCH.
LXXVII.—FROM MRS. LEADBEATER.
Ballitore, 17th of Eighth-month, 1817.
I send thee a little specimen of a collection of do-
mestic verses for the use of cabin inhabitants, and
describing their habits. It is solely a book for the
peasantry; they love poetry, and even these would be
better than the miserable ballads they get hold of.
Tell me thy opinion of the plan. We have read Lalla
Rookh. Our countryman is a sweet poet, and many
fine passages glitter in his works, but somehow I think
he is too sweet, too fine, or rather too glittering—and
then that abominable, hideous, veiled prophet! The
"Light of the Harem" strikes me as much ado about
nothing, or about very little.
"The Peri" conveys a
sweet sentiment, and "The Fire-worshippers" is an
interesting fearful stroy. Joanna Baillie's "Plays on
the Passions" have lately been lent to us. I believe
they are written by a masterly hand, and with an in-
tent to do good; beautiful poetry and beautiful senti-
ments intermingle with horrors which I cannot well
bear, and therefore I have not read many of them. I
hear a very agreeable character of the writer, and that
she wrote several of her dramatic pieces early in the
morning, in her mother' schamber where she slept, and
AND MRS. LEADBEATER.
301
would not leave lest her parent should awake and want
her, as her health was delicate. These amusements of
lone hours she kept to herself for some time; at length
she showed them to her brother's wife, and was sur-
prised to see her weep. She was then prevailed on to
let her brother, Dr. Baillie, see them, and thus they
came to light.
M. LEADBEATER.
LXXVIII.-FROM MRS. TRENCH.
November 17th, 1817.
My dear friend,
My mind is painfully preoccupied with the
melancholy details, to which every paper brings some
addition, of the fate of that lovely Princess whom Pro-
vidence has taken from us. Do you not feel for that
awful event, which in a few hours removed so sweet a
creature from the pinnacle of earthly happiness, com-
manding a long vista of love, and pomp, and pleasure,
and good actions, and the highest worldly honours?
Her spotless innocence, her warmth of heart, her pre-
ference of domestic joys to any other, her religious prin-
ciples, her tender feelings, her liberal sentiments, all
promised us a reign as yet unknown in the annals of
England. Do you not feel indignant that the miscon-
duct of her relations should have deprived her of the
solace of one kind relative, one tender female-that the
barbarity before her marriage of constantly changing
her attendants and the ladies about her, and her not
302
CORRESPONDENCE OF MRS. TRENCH
being allowed to have anything like an establishment,
afterwards prevented her from forming an intimacy with
any valuable woman who might have prevented her
being left entirely to a mercenary? That her grand-
mother's unkindness, her father's neglect, and her
mother's levity should have combined to leave the
heiress of the British empire without any feminine care
on the night following a painful and afflicting labour,
but that of a hired nursetender! It is a melancholy
and mysterious story. She was perfectly safe in all
respects—had expressed her entire resignation to God
respecting her suffering and the death of her child.
The Prince Leopold had expressed no sorrow for that
event, his joy and thankfulness to heaven for her safety
was so great. Her patience, firmness, and resignation
were exemplary. At twelve the prince was prevailed
on to go to rest. 'Tis said the physicians also left her
and 'tis said they did not. Which are we to believe?
In a bulletin it was said they did. This is since denied.
Be that as it may, she was given some gruel by Mrs.
Griffiths, the nursetender, became speechless, was seized
with spasms, convulsions, chilliness, and in two hours
expired! What a living tragedy is the fate of Leopold,
as he saw her pass away, and as he hung over her, re-
fusing to believe the assurance of the physicians, and
maintaining that she still lived. He would not believe
that "Death was thus made proud with pure and
princely beauty." He would not believe that she could
die, whose heart had so lately been entwined with his
in the closest union of wedded love! No description
;
AND MRS. LEADBEATER.
303
in the papers can exaggerate the public sympathy and
the public sorrow. It is the strongest proof that neither
magnificence nor expense is necessary to endear any
branch of a reigning family. I believe I am justified
in saying the nation would have resigned all the rest of
her family to have saved her, and yet she had lived in
all the unpretending privacy of a retired and domestic
life.
I have been very much employed forming a society
to supersede the use of climbing boys. The subscrip-
tion was raised, the machine bought, minds were pre-
pared, papers printed, and last Monday fixed on by the
mayor for our meeting, when the lamentable news
arrived which "broke the good meeting," and put it off
to I know not when. But I was fortunate enough to
excite many persons to zeal in the cause, and I hope
their zeal will not cool. However, I have my fears.
Affectionately yours,
LXXIX. -FROM MRS. LEADBEATER.
M. T.
Ballitore, 17th of Twelfth-month, 1817.
This national calamity is, like the shock of an earth-
quake, felt even in remote situations. In the morning
the paper announced the illness of the Princess; that
evening my youngest daughter returned from Dublin,
where she had been for three months, and we were so
often disappointed of her returning that I felt restless
and agitated. The rap came to the door; it opened,
304
CORRESPONDENCE OF MRS. TRENCH
and I saw my dear little girl; but, at the same moment,
"The Princess and her son are dead!" struck upon my
ear, and caused such a revulsion of feeling-such a re-
pelling sensation when I was prepared only for joy, as
I never felt before, and which seemed like choking, till
I could weep. My dear friend, there is scarcely any event
of this kind but is aggravated by our own upbraid-
ings or those of others. Indeed it struck me as sur-
prising that no relative was watching over a young
woman about to bring forth her first-born, and the ex-
pected heir to a kingdom; and I find such popular in-
dignation was raised, that one fish-woman in Dublin,
scolding another, exclaimed as the climax, "A bowl of
Nurse Griffiths' gruel to you!" Yet I cannot think—I
cannot bear to think-there were any unfair doings.
Indeed I pity the royal family from my heart, but most
of all the widowed husband.
I hope thy benevolent plan in favour of the poor
climbing boys has been carried into effect. Are not
things growing better? The hearts of men are becom-
ing more susceptible to the impressions of philanthropy,
and their eyes opened to oppression.
MARY LEADBEATER.
LXXX.-FROM MRS. TRENCH.
1818.
My dear Mrs. Leadbeater,
I have had the pleasure to witness the complete
success of an establishment for the protection and ad-
vantage of single women, who unite their means of
AND MRS. LEADBEATER.
305
""
living in a manner very accommodating to those who
are poor, without any inconvenience to the wealthy.
It promotes the happiness of all, but it is designed pe-
culiarly for the comfort of those of small fortunes; and,
of such, two-thirds of the establishment must always
be composed, according to one of its laws. It has
triumphed over many obstacles, and I confess my wishes
in its favour were formerly much stronger than my
hopes. I have belonged to the association of its friends
these four years; I was very far from foreseeing it could
have been so soon and so well established. Our
"sweep" plan goes on well.
The "sailer and soup
plan gets on as yet but slowly; but I have had a sort
of triumph over its adversaries, for when nine-tenths of
Southampton were declaring it impracticable, and poeti-
cal, and ridiculous, the London papers all burst forth
with accounts and eulogies of a plan precisely similar,
favoured by all the wisest men in London, which was
arranged at the very time the Southamptonites were
opposing mine. Now, the mayor has adopted it, and
gives a night's lodging and a bowl of soup on coming
and departing to all travelling paupers, who are then con-
ducted by a beadle out of the town; so I have carried
my point through much ridicule and opposition. It
has cost me much scribbling for the papers. I know
you are interested in all sufferers, be they of whatever
nation under the sun.
The Princess Elizabeth is to be married immediately.
Prince Leopold has buried his sorrows in complete
retirement.
VOL. II.—20
306
CORRESPONDENCE OF MRS. TRENCH
I copy for your amusement Dr. Parr's letter to the
lady he has lately married:-
“Madam,
"You are a very charming woman, and I should
"be happy to obtain you as a wife. If you accept my
"proposal, I will tell you who was the author of Junius.
"S. P."
What have you been reading? Mdlle. d'Epinay's
letters to Guibert, the great military genius whom
Buonaparte acknowledges for his master, are my present
study. They are written with a pen of fire, and indeed
she knows how to love. As a literary curiosity it has
merit being very finely written, without any attempt
to write finely; but oh! what a total ignorance of all
principles of religion and morality. She does not defy,
she does not renounce, she does not despise them; she
really seems never to have heard of them. Brought up
in a convent, and transplanted to the society of “les
esprits forts” at Paris, being the fruit of a breach of
the marriage vow, without father, brother, or husband,
I pity far more than I can blame her. Ever yours,
M. T.
LXXXI.-FROM MRS. LEADBEATER.
Ballitore, 23rd of Eighth-month, 1818.
Thy letter was written in a strain which would have
communicated its cheerful sentiments to my heart if
AND MRS. LEADBEATER.
307
received at another time. It arrived the 4th of this
month, that day on which we followed to the grave my
brother Abraham Shackleton. I have now no brother!
21st of Ninth-month.—We are recovering and emerg-
ing from the depth of sorrow into which we have been
plunged. Yet the dear idea of my loved lost brother
will never pass away from our minds but with life or
memory. When I lie down to rest, oh! how does it rise
before me, and pierce my heart with unutterable sorrow!
I have had a most friendly letter from the poet
Crabbe, which gave me as much delight as I could now
enjoy from most things. His new work I hope will
soon appear.
13th of Tenth-month.-The kindness of thy last letter,
my dearly esteemed friend, almost overpowered me;
the difference between what I am and what thy gener-
ous friendship would suppose me to be ought to humble
me, but I fear it has a contrary tendency. We have
endeavoured to bear with resignation, when the first
pangs subsided, the great and grievous privation we
endure. She who is the chief sufferer, his admirable
widow-she whose feeling and affectionate heart felt
more than any of us could do-sets us a holy example.
I have never seen Thady Connellan, but hope I shall.
I admire his zeal in so good a cause. We wish well to
the Bible Societies. The intention is good, the conse-
quences have been good, let them dispute it who will.
I see you have delighted to honour Thady, or rather
Thaddeus. I hope his head will keep steady. Alas,
poor Joseph Lancaster!
Spite of his follies we must
20*
308
CORRESPONDENCE OF MRS. TRENCH
confess ourselves under great obligations to him. He
has lately gone to New York, where he is well received.
Affectionately thine,
MARY LEADBEATER.
LXXXII.-FROM MRS. TRENCH.
September, 1818.
My dear friend,
What you say of the resignation of the widow,
who had been an affectionate and beloved wife for forty
years, is indeed surprising. Let me hear more on this
subject; though awful, it is soothing, and as an example
is of the highest order. I am very much impressed by
seeing how much the stroke of final separation is light-
ened both to the sufferer and survivors (who are often
indeed the severest sufferers) by the blameless lives,
close ties of family affection, and temperate natural
habits which are more frequently found among those
of your persuasion than any other. The stings of death
arising from the recollection of those errors and crimes
from which the sobriety of mind and staid simplicity of
"the Friends" happily keep them at a distance—the
indifference of relatives, who in their career of ambition
have hardly time (if their aspiring pursuits left them
inclination) to watch the couch of departing life—the
complicated ailments produced by the madness of lux-
urious tables, and the studied refinements of indolence
and ease-from such your society seem in general hap
pily exempt, and they fall like the nipt blossom or the
AND MRS. LEADBEATER.
309
ripened fruit, "without pain, and as free from sin as
may be."
Such was the end prayed for by the good
Bishop Wilson, and may such be ours!
I read Buxton on Prisons last Christmas; it interested
me greatly, and I was happy to see another ray of light
thrown on those abodes of wretchedness.
I revere
Howard-Neild-Buxton-Bennett—and, above all,
that admirable woman who has raised the character of
her sex.
Mr. Parnell gave me a letter of introduction to
Mrs. Fry last summer, but various causes prevented me
from paying her my tribute of unfeigned respect. The
force and closeness of Buxton's reasoning are admirable ;
his introduction is a master-piece; never perhaps was
so much explained and so many errors so unanswerably
confuted in so few words. He gives a new idea of the
duty of society towards prisoners. To me it was pecu-
liarly gratifying, because I had always entertained the
opinions he maintains, and had suffered myself to be
persuaded that in me they arose from the weakness of
my heart. I did all I could to assist in the circulation
of his book, and am now using my weak endeavours to
persuade a reformation in the cruel practice of making
the prisoners in Winchester jail wear irons, which you
see all the great law authorities decide to be "illegal,
except he be unruly, or has attempted an escape.”
Alas! our bill for the abolition of living chimney-
cleansers was thrown out in the lords on the third read-
ing. Lord Clare says it was the bishops who chiefly
preponderated against it; but he is probably mistaken.
Pray is there a society for the introduction of machines
310
CORRESPONDENCE OF MRS. TRENCH
and the protection of climbing boys in Dublin? There
ought; and it would be worthy of "the Friends," who
are ever the first to undertake and the last to abandon
every work of mercy. I can furnish
I can furnish you with every
document on the subject you can desire. We are all
more eager than ever for the abolition, but I believe we
must be content with a strong regulating bill next year,
and proceed to the abolition by degrees.
Our Queen was estimable in essentials, but not beloved
by her family, if we except her good kind husband;
we cannot then be surprised if she was but little regret-
ted by her people. Her age and sufferings had prepared
the good, and the unfeeling do not see that any affecta-
tion of sorrow is called for.
London.-Being in the land of franks once more, I
cannot refrain from writing to you whenever I have
leisure. You will wonder, I am sure, why I came here
and why I stay here; but you must know London
operates as a magnet when one is absent from it, and is
full of the "glue" Mdle. Sevigne speaks of as abound-
ing in the society of "les devotes du Faubourg," when
one is in it. Be dissipated or domestic, good or bad,
wise or foolish, London once tasted will be required
again and again. This is a mystery, and I leave it to
wiser heads to explain. It is a good hint to country
gentlemen not to be too anxious to give their wives a
sip of this enchanted cup.
?"
Have you read Phillips's "Recollections of Curran ?”
It is a remarkably amusing book; also his "Specimens
of Irish Eloquence," though the latter by a little trouble
AND MRS. LEADBEATER.
311
&
and arrangement might have been made much more
valuable. "Undine" is a charming fairy tale translated
from the German, which I recommend to your acquaint-
ance when it falls in your way. Have you read
"Maurice and Berghetta," written by Mr. Parnell?
Alas, that one of so much talent and feeling should
be so deficient in judgment. He is admirably well
intentioned. Ever faithfully yours,
(6
(C
،،
LXXXIII.—FROM MRS. LEADBEATER.
My valued friend,
John Kirkham, a minister in our society,
lately visited "the sweet recluses of Llangollen Vale."
Lady Eleanor appeared a fine-looking elderly woman ;
he supposed about sixty, with her hair cut like a man's,
and powdered and pomatumed. She was dressed in a
blue riding-habit, with a gold chain round her neck, to
which hung her watch, with many seals and trinkets.
She addressed him and his companion, "Oh, you are
"Friends. Have you got large hats? I am glad of it.
"I hope you speak the Friends' language. Some of
your people have been here, but their hats and lan-
guage were not like Friends; you are very wel-
come to see everything here, both in the house and
grounds." In every walk were little embowered re-
cesses, in each of which were a Bible and other serious
books. He says it is a beautiful spot.
(C
M. T.
Ballitore, 1819.
312
CORRESPONDENCE OF MRS. TRENCH
(6
Here is an extract from a letter which I received
lately" Maria Edgeworth expects to publish her
"father's life early next year. I feel anxious about it—
"her part of it. All of it till the time of his last mar-
riage is entirely his own, and he left her his last in-
"junctions to publish it, without altering or adding or
taking away a single word! The circumstances of his
"life were so extraordinary, that I am really sorry she
was left as the editor, as the world will not perhaps
"interpret fairly, and few know how solemnly she was
"enjoined to give it as he left it." I hear that her
brother Lovell Edgeworth is a very benevolent person,
and active in furthering education.
66
Another year is about to open upon us; may it bring
a continuation of peace and joy to thy dwelling. Thy
affectionate and obliged friend,
(6
MARY LEADBEATER.
LXXXIV.FROM MRS. TRENCH.
1820.
Knowing I address one who is aware of my undimin-
ished attachment, I pass over the various causes which
combine with the indolence attendant on protracted
sickness to prevent communication between us as fre-
quently as I desire. I have always avoided making
my letters bulletins, as I wish neither to give pain nor
excite eunui; and I knew how my dear friend would
be affected if she heard of my illness.
While I daily return thanks for my worldly treasure,
AND MRS. LEADBEATER.
313
I am at the same time deeply sensible it is lodged in
vessels of clay. Perhaps I place my happiness too
much in the well-being and affection of my delightful
family; but I hope my constant remembrance of the
frail tenure by which we possess each other may by
degrees lead me to higher views and motives. At pre-
sent I "love not wisely, but too well.” * * * We all
think, talk, write, feel, and understand nothing but
what relates to the Queen, who has, you see, made me
forget even the rules of my grammar. Come what may,
she has been the most persecuted woman of modern
times, and presents the singular spectacle of a wife
condemned by her husband on suspicion of following
his example and advice-example the most public, and
advice clearly bestowed in a formal letter, as well as in
repeated messages. When the storm is over, I will
have the pleasure of writing to you again. I believe
the Queen to be a fine-tempered, good-natured, spirited,
fearless, persevering woman, and the offence with which
she is charged I think she is almost entirely cleared
from, by the nature of the evidence against her. Many
who suspected her fidelity to the marriage vow are now
ready to answer for it, as they think it impossible, with
the exertion of all the power of government and all the
influence of opinion (amongst those connected with the
administration), not to have found some proof against
her, when it was so eagerly sought for during twenty
years.
As to the persecution she has endured, you
know that I was nurtured by my lamented grandfather
in principles of civil and religious liberty; and there-
314
CORRESPONDENCE OF MRS. TRENCH
fore you know
my opinion, as well as that which I en-
tertain on the application of a bill of pains and penalties
to her case. Indeed, I am doubtful whether I should
think a bill of pains and penalties consonant to the
principles of the Constitution. If the Queen had been
guilty of one-tenth of the gross and stupid public free-
doms she is accused of, the same carelessness and wil-
fulness would in six years have produced some positive
proof to her household of actual infidelity; so the evi-
dence, even to those who believe it, goes to clear her
of any crime cognizable by a legal tribunal. In the
present case I do not think the House of Lords can be
so considered; therefore I speak hypothetically.
Hayley is loved and admired by some of the most
respectable. I paid him a visit last autumn; a friend
of his brought me to his little villa near Bognor, by
appointment. He lives in the prettiest nutshell pos-
sible-a miniature paradise; no luxe about it, except
that of extreme neatness and fine pictures. Romney
(painted by the artist himself), Cowper, Charlotte
Smith, Gibbon, and others of celebrity graced the walls;
and he pleased himself and me by showing me beautiful
portraits of his wife, his mother, and other relations.
We then walked round his small garden, strolled on
his velvet lawn, and returned to drink coffee, which he
always does at two-the coffee being accompanied with
other matters for his guests. Afterwards we returned
to his drawing-room and pianoforte, where he showed
me several songs, chiefly sacred, of which the words
were written either by Cowper or himself. He seemed
AND MRS. LEADBEATER.
315
pleased that I could play and sing them at sight; for
I still retain my voice, and, though I have no time for
practice, it does not seem inclined to leave me—which
I wonder at. I think he said he was seventy-five.
He did lately marry a young wife, but that "crime,"
according to Sheridan, "carries the punishment along
with it." They soon quarrelled and parted; for the
bard who sang so sweetly the "Triumphs of Temper"
is said to be somewhat irritable and irascible. The lady
was so too, and expected he would have done nothing
for the rest of his life but sing her praises. His look
and manner denote impatience curbed by good breed-
ing, and his nieces seemed much afraid of him; so,
I perceived, did his visitors and old friends. I think
his manner and the expression of his face create awe
rather than put one at one's ease; at least, such was
the impression upon me.
I am at present busy beyond measure-in matters of
utility, not ornament; not poetry, nor any of its kindred
pursuits.
I have the high gratification of finding that, after
fruitless efforts of either one or two years, a plan which
your friend was the first to suggest through the medium
of the public prints, papers privately circulated, and in
other ways, has at last been adopted by the Lord Mayor
of London-that of providing public dormitories, which
should furnish the temporary relief of food and shelter
to the houseless during the present period of unexam-
pled distress. Had poor Cassandra been listened to a
little sooner, many lives would have been saved, and
316
CORRESPONDENCE OF MRS. TRENCH
the severest distress prevented; but my plan was
scoffed at, as a silly, romantic, poetic contrivance; and
one of my neighbours said I proposed it because I was
"so used to beggars in Ireland, I was unhappy without
them here." Your ever affectionate friend,
((
LXXXV.-FROM MRS. LEADBEATER.
M. T.
Ballitore, 1821.
My valued friend,
So Buonaparte is, we hear, certainly dead.
Quenched is his light," but it has been long quenched,
and I hope a purer light has disclosed to him a path
which the vulture eye of ambition did not perceive, and
that mercy has been extended to him. This death will
afford a topic of conversation to diversify the approach-
ing visit of the King and the claims of his persevering
consort. I have frequently thought that the tide of
Buonaparte's fortunes began to turn when he put away
from him his faithful and affectionate wife. This
seems to me to be an unprecedented sacrifice to selfish
ambition, thus coolly and deliberately overturning the
rights of nature, religion, morality, law, and the civil
usages of Christendom, that on their wreck he might
ascend to his farther aggrandizement.
Hast thou observed in a late Edinburgh Review an
article entitled "Quaker Poetry?" The reviewers seem
surprised, and congratulate us on the appearance of
anything like taste in our sober sect.
AND MRS. LEADBEATER.
317
The moving bog in the King's County gives rise
to very great wonder. The attempts at embankment
have increased the strength and depth of the moving
mass, by confining it; but it breaks down the op-
posing banks, spreading desolation and mourning as
it proceeds.
I should tell thee definitively that the "Memoirs of
Richard and Elizabeth Shackleton" are in the press; but
I doubt whether they will be interesting or acceptable
to any out of the pale of our own Society, of which my
parents were distinguished members; and their letters
are chiefly on religious subjects, and perhaps may appear
sectarian, though the hearts of the writers overflowed
with universal good-will. I have also a third series of
Cottage Dialogues" in preparation, and I am as deep
in literary speculations as if I were half my present age
—that is to say, as if I were thirty-one.
Thy reference to the character of thy lamented friend,
and description of those touching and natural feelings
which pursue thy recollections, cannot but call forth all
the sympathy which I am able to give. I think it
is in the "Tatler" that a widower, deploring his loss,
compares himself to a man who had lost his right arm,
and was continually and involuntarily trying to use it.
Possessed of more happiness, perhaps, than most pos-
sess, and the more so, because willing to acknowledge
and enjoy it, the cup of sorrow has frequently been
presented to thee.
CC
And your gallant nephew-how did he die?
mentions "circumstances of peculiar sadness.”
Thou
Was
318
CORRESPONDENCE OF MRS. TRENCH
his death untimely? How I grudge such fine cha-
racters, with all their amiable dispositions, all their
cultivated tastes, all their quick feelings-how I grudge
them to the army, often to fall a sacrifice to the detest-
able idol-War! A blockhead would stop a bullet just
as well, and they might honour and serve their country
in a more honourable sphere of action. Deeply do I
regret the death of this fine-minded young man, and
that another wound has been felt before the late one
was healed. Thine,
MARY LEADBEATER.
LXXXVI.—FROM MRS. TRENCH.
1822.
My dear Mrs. Leadbeater,
I am so grateful to you for the depth of feel-
ing with which you have entered into my deprivation,
and I know how your kind heart will form a thousand
apprehensions as to the effect of such a disruption on
my health and spirits. Believe me, my dear friend,
that the composure, fortitude, and Christian resigna-
tion of my valuable and beloved friend have left with
us a priceless legacy of an example which forbids every
undue murmur, every selfish indulgence of grief.
"Our
little life is rounded with a sleep," and till that last
sleep our character cannot be perfectly understood or
completely finished. Hers has stood this test, and her
departure reflects back a light on all her preceding
days.
AND MRS. LEADBEATER.
319
I know you will be anxious to hear from me, and I
am anxious to relieve in some degree your affectionate
heart, by saying that except a certain stillness of
spirit, as if I had been stunned or exhausted, which
hangs upon me at times, my health is unimpaired by
my irreparable loss of a friend who has for near thirty
years been ripening at my side. In her heart I read as
clearly as in my own. But enough of this.
Call it not coldness that I so long delayed my thanks
for your communication of your daughter's intended
marriage. You know how inactive my pen becomes
from time to time, after suffering great anxiety con-
cluding a heavy sorrow; but my heart is as deeply
interested in your well-being, and that of your dear
children, as it ever has been in the course of our long
and unbroken friendship. I feel sure this new con-
nexion will open to you a new vista of hopes, and
wishes, and tender ties, to share in those affections
which are ever ready to flow into any channels pre-
sented by the events of life.
I delight in the success of your literary labours.
Perhaps I have not told you how much I was improved
and pleased by the Memoir of your venerable parents.
It is gratifying that a second edition has been called
for; should there be a third, I will venture to pray for
a few more light touches and domestic incidents, more
of Burke's letters, and anything you have to tell, no
matter what, of his early days. This will extend the
circulation of a book which cannot be too much read.
I shall go to London very soon, and shall correct your
320
CORRESPONDENCE OF MRS. TRENCH
proof sheets with the utmost pleasure, thankful to be
of any service to my dear friend.
LXXXVII.-FROM MRS. LEADBEATER.
M. T.
Ballitore, 1822.
England is acting a noble part in thus contributing
so liberally to the relief of the distressed poor in this
country. I never heard of such suffering by want in
this nation. In these parts, potatoes are plenty, and the
poor are well content if they can but get work; but the
farmer, obliged to contract his expenses, is not able to
give them employment as he was wont to do.
I want to tell thee how kind I take thy interesting
thyself in the Memoirs. Previous to publication they
underwent much revision and curtailing, and indeed I
dreaded the exclusion of some matters, such as the
little sketch of Burke, notices of schoolboys, &c., which
were near my heart. However, when I am no more,
perhaps thou may be amused by a work which I
have some thoughts of requesting my children then to
publish, because it has pleased so many in manuscript
-a proof that simple details, when possessed of the
irresistible charm of truth, seldom fail to be acceptable.
When first I had the pleasure of knowing thee, I
showed thee what I had then written of it, and thy ap-
probation encouraged me to proceed with the "Annals
of Ballitore," now forming three bulky volumes, and
AND MRS. LEADBEATER.
321
brought down to last year; but whether carrying on
the interest of earlier times I am ready to doubt.
MARY LEADBEATER.
LXXXVIII.-FROM MRS. LEADBEATER.
Ballitore, 26th of Third-month, 1822.
My dear friend,
In the Castle of Kilkea, about a mile from
Ballitore, there is a small room of a singular shape,
called the enchanted chamber, where a former Earl
of Kildare, to whom the castle belonged, was said to
pursue the study of the black art. I had heard the
tradition in my childhood, but being desirous to be
fully informed on the subject, I applied to an old man to
tell me the story of the Earl of Kildare and of Kilkea
Castle. As well as I can recollect his words, I shall
give them :-"The Earl of Kildare! Why, he was an
enchanter, because he was nursed by a fairy. He was
a likely, personable man, and married a fine young
lady. She begged of him to show her some of his en-
chantments, and turn himself into another shape. He
warned her not ask the like, for if she was frightened,
he would be obliged to leave her for ever.
She said,
let him take ever such a shape she would not be afraid,
and begged him again and again to show her his art.
Then he turned himself into an eel, wound himself
round the castle, and looked at her through the window
of the enchanted chamber. The face of the ell was so
frightful that the lady screeched out, and away flew the
VOL. II.—21
322
CORRESPONDENCE OF MRS. TRENCH
1
earl, and never more was seen in the Castle of Kilkea,
but was obliged to ride round and round the Curragh
of Kildare, on a white horse with silver shoes, till the
shoes should be worn out; and when that happened,
he would return to the castle." When I heard the
story first, full fifty years ago, it was said the shoes
were by that time worn to the thinness of a sixpence.
Another old man added the story of a smith who was
bringing a load of coals across the Curragh, and when
night came on he lay down beside the rath to rest. By-
and-by the "good people" (alias fairies) came to get
him to examine the shoes of the earl's horse. Had one
nail been loose, he would have regained his liberty; all
were fast, and he was obliged to ride on! And this is
the legend of the Castle of Kilkea.
In the little town of Timolin, one hundred years ago,
lived a man by name Johnny Sherman, who kept a
public-house on a small scale. Two strangers came for
entertainment, and in the course of conversation hinted
that they dealt in the black art, and could "call spirits
from the vasty deep." Johnny was incredulous; he
laughed them to scorn, and defied them. They agreed
to prove their power, and he agreed to witness the proof.
"Would he choose to see the dead or the living?"
"Both. Bring me old Swanton and Johnny Byrne."
Night came; the host was alone in his parlour, sitting
by a table on which the travellers had placed a lighted
candle, encircled by a ring and a black-hafted knife.
When the "witching time of night" arrived, the doughty
Johnny perceived that the candle burnt blue, and that
AND MRS. LEADBEATER.
323
the ring which encompassed it moved up and down.
The black-hafted knife next began, self-impelled, to
flourish about the table. Johnny's courage fell. Anon
he heard a rustle among the green boughs in the parlour
chimney. He turned his eyes, and saw the end of a
coffin bursting through them; it glided down, and, as it
lay on the floor, disclosed the dead body of old Swanton;
Johnny Byrne stood at the head of the coffin. Sherman
ran to his parlour door; it was locked, and in tearing it
open he tore the nails off his fingers. The magicians
were gone, and were heard of no more in this country.
Johnny Sherman vowed dreadful vengeance against
them, declaring, from the agony he had endured that
night, that they had drawn the life out of him. His
nails never grew on his fingers again!
MARY LEADBEATER.
LXXXIX.—FROM MRS. TRENCH.
[Bath], 1823.
My dear Mrs. Leadbeater,
I rejoice in the prospect before you of reunion
with so many of your family. May you long enjoy and
impart those domestic kindnesses which Mr. Irving
impressively says "fill the whole day with one swell
of pleasurable emotion."
I am happy that I can say your daughter* is a little
better. She is engaging beyond measure--with a pecu-
* Mrs. Ebenezer Shackleton, then at Bath, who died in 1829.
21*
324
CORRESPONDENCE OF MRS. TRENCH
liar expression of sweetness and innocence that awakens
feelings for her like those one has for a beautiful child
—her mind seems all purity and steadiness.
My son Richard has a craving for books which re-
minds me of Dr. Orkborn in Camilla, as he cannot even
take an airing without arming himself against ennui
with one or more volumes. He delights in reference,
collating, extracting, and wishes much we should pur-
chase a polyglot he has heard of, where he luxuriates
in the idea of finding fifty readings of the same passage
in Scripture.
You see that a great desire is manifested in England
to amend the state of the poor in Ireland. Now that
the strength of the working-class in Great Britain may
at any moment be diluted by the influx of our labourers,
the matter grows serious here, even in a selfish point of
view—but ever, ever, and ever "self-love and social are
the same;" if we doubt it, it is only from that short-
sightedness which takes in but a small segment of the
circle. Adieu, my dear friend.
.
XC.-FROM MRS. LEADBEATER.
M. T.
Ballitore, 1824.
My dear and valued friend,
This morning's post brought me thy letter.
How I rejoice in seeing thy handwriting, how I keep it
snug for a bonne bouche, whereon to regale when all my
morning affairs are arranged. I find my memory some-
AND MRS. LEADBEATER.
325
times betrays the approach of old age; yet, ever living in
the same village, I should not be surprised to be accosted
by the epithet of "child," or "honey," were the old
servants of the family living; but they have dropt off
like autumnal leaves, and I have seen two generations
clean passed away in this place.
Now that the second edition of my father's Memoirs
is out, I am busily engaged transcribing extracts from
his letters to his friends, which is to compose a volume
in itself. Many have kindly sent me letters addressed
to them to extract from; and when I see that dear, well-
known handwriting, when I read those excellent senti-
ments, often impressed with that wit which so brilliantly
enlivened his conversation-my mind flies back to other
days, and I seem to live in them. Why was not I better
and wiser, being the child of such parents!
My breathing is very much affected, but do not be
uneasy about me. I limit myself to a stated task
daily, so as not to be overdone. But I must fulfil my
engagement with the Education Society. I am about
to send my account of Leinster to them, not without
some trepidation, lest I shall not be approved. I be-
lieve I told thee that my work is in dialogues, the
heroes two pedlars. Apropos, hast thou read Words-
worth's "Excursion"? We have just perused it, and are
delighted with most part of it, although some parts are
not clear to our comprehension.
The situation of Moone is very picturesque, and both
E. and D. possess so picturesque a taste, that I should
have no objection to live to see the effect of their plan-
326
CORRESPONDENCE OF MRS. TRENCH
tations; but that is not likely, for I feel my sun is near
its setting. Adieu, my much respected, much loved
friend.
MARY LEADBEATER.
XCI.-FROM MRS. LEADBEATER.
Ballitore, 1825.
I have put thy indulgence, my kind friend, to the
proof by my apparent negligence in acknowledging a
letter so highly gratifying, and in telling thee how sin-
cerely thy many friends here sympathized in your plea-
sure when such justice was done to the talents of your
Francis.
When I received thy letter, I was recovering from an
alarming illness. After a slight indisposition I was
suddenly seized with an oppression of breathing under
which I sank into insensibility; when I awakened from
what I thought was a sweet sleep, I wondered to find
my family about me, and that I should be disturbed,
till I found my arms both tied up and cataplasms to my
feet. I cannot guess what was the cause of this seizure.
My head was not affected, nor my limbs. I was slow
in recovering, but am now nearly as well as ever. A
distressing nervousness was my greatest trial. When I
was able to resume my pen and apply to my task, it
turned my attention from myself and was of great use
to me. I sincerely wish this new year may smile upon
thee and thine, never forgetting your long absent
Charles. Thine, with true regard,
MARY LEADBEATER.
AND MRS. LEADBEATER.
327
XCII.-FROM MRS. TRENCH.
1825.
My dear Mrs. Leadbeater,
I am equally concerned to hear of your acci-
dent and impressed by that frame of mind which leads
you to draw not merely consolation but pleasure from
every circumstance, however outwardly unpromising.
We read that part of your kind letter in full conclave,
and with general admiration. Indeed I seldom with-
hold your letters from my family, for they form a part
of the education of those I love, as well as of my own.
I am perfectly aware of being less faulty in many respects
than I should be, had not Providence permitted my
friendship with you, and I expect the same consequences
in others from the beauty of your example and your
sentiments.
I congratulate you, dearest friend, on the pleasure of
having the stool placed beneath your foot by an affec-
tionate grandchild. I often see a great-grandmother
wonderful as to youthfulness of appearance and habits,
and I never see her without being made more gay by
her cheerfulness, and more pious by her conversation.
and example.
1826.—I had my five sons gathered under the sha-
dow of this roof, which will always endear to me the
opening of 1826. May it close in peace to us all, my
dear friend, or find us resigned and prepared for the
changes it may bring. Ever, ever yours,
M. T.
328
CORRESPONDENCE OF MRS. TRENCH
XCIII. FROM MRS. LEADBEATER.
Ballitore, 25th of Third-month, 1826.
Alas, my kind friend, I am under the same roof with
Richard Trench, and may not see him, for I am a pri-
soner to my chamber, and am afraid to yield to the
temptation of leaving it, even to see that benevolent
countenance. I am an invalid all the winter; my com-
plaint is oppression of breathing, but I seem now to be
much better, and the better for being confined to a
warm atmosphere; but my strength is much declined,
perhaps from the mercury administered to me.
"My
aunt Leadbeater took too much Jupiter," says little
Anne White. I am encouraged to hope a revival with
the genial gales of spring. I must sympathize with
thee on parting from thy son; but, on the good founda-
tion which early education has laid in his mind, I hope
a structure will rise honourable to himself, his family,
friends, and country. How happy it is that he goes
not in a military capacity!
The 13th of this month a jubilee was held, on the
completion of a hundred years since Ballitore School
was opened. It was celebrated with much pomp and
circumstance in Dublin, at Morrisson's, where the din-
ner was served on plate, and Morrisson himself placed
before Richard Shackleton the Ballitore rice-pudding.
It was also celebrated in Limerick; and at Ballitore
there was a delightful evening party in the school-room,
AND MRS. LEADBEATER.
329
which was decorated with festoons of evergreens and
flowers, with “A. S.” and “J. W.," the initials of the
founder and of the present master, formed of bunches
of violets, at each end of the room. There were sixty
present. Thine affectionately,
+
→
MARY LEADBEATER.
On the death of the writer, which took place just three months
after the date of the above letter, the two following were addressed
by Mrs. Trench to the daughter and the husband of Mrs. Lead-
beater :-
XCIV.-MRS. TRENCH TO MRS. EBENEZER SHACKLETON.
August, 1826.
My dear Mrs. Shackleton,
I am much obliged by your letter, and hasten
to assure you that I received both parts of my dear
friend's "character," and entirely coincide in your
opinion of it. It does not touch upon many points
which deserved a place in her portrait-such as her
anxiety to improve herself and others; her delicate
feelings, highly refined, yet never degenerating into
susceptibility, or exacting from others those attentions
she never failed to bestow herself; her taste for every-
-
330
CORRESPONDENCE OF MRS. TRENCH,
thing that was admirable in nature and art; her polished
mind and manner, which seemed instinctively to reject
all that others are taught to avoid; her quick sense of
wit and humour, and her own unaffected pleasantry;
her entire absence of all self-comparison with any
human being, which left her capable of doing complete
justice to the merits of all; her rare suavity, and her
uncommon talents.
The writer of this "character" has also placed her
"second" in the delineation of Irish manners and
language. She is second to none in this. Others have
taken a wider range; others have permitted themselves
the free indulgence of humour on a greater variety of
topics; but, as far as she goes, she is second to none.
Pray do not dwell on the idea that her valuable life
might have been saved. She once wrote thus to me:—
"There never was an event of this kind where one did
not blame oneself and blame others." She was right.
Self-reproach is one of the shapes that sorrow loves to
take, and one ought to protect oneself against it. I
deeply reproached myself—and perhaps I was a little,
though unjustly, hurt as to others—but this is certain,
I deeply reproached myself for not having known her
danger. I have been so long in a state of suffering, that
it seemed to me the most natural thing in the world to
be ill; and though I heard your dear mother was so,
the idea of danger never passed through my mind, and
the intelligence was a sad surprise, upon which I shall
not allow my mind to dwell. My own severe and
dangerous illness last summer also blinded me, as it
AND MRS. LEADBEATER.
331
prevented me from writing to Ballitore, and receiving
regular replies which might have enlightened me.
My kindest thanks are due for the verses, the profile,
and the dear lock of hair. The profile is a little like;
but I shall not show it. It would not convey the least
idea of the benevolent countenance of the original to
one who had not seen herself.
Will you give my kindest regards to your dear father.
Believe me, dear Mrs. Shackleton, very faithfully yours,
M. T.
XCV.—FROM MRS. TRENCH TO MR. LEADBEATER.
24th January, 1827.
My dear Sir,
I cannot commence a new year without being
reminded of her whose friendship has gilded so many
foregoing winters, and added to the pleasure of every
season since I first had the good fortune of being known
to her. When she was taken from us, I respected the
sacredness of your grief too much to intrude on you
with the expression of my own; but now that the lapse
of time may permit this melancholy indulgence, I can
no longer refuse myself what I have so long desired.
Allow me to assure you of my sincere sympathy, and of
my desire to hear of the health and prosperity of your
family. I also wish to know from you in what way I
had best distribute the premiums and small charities
your incomparable wife and my affectionate friend was
332
CORRESPONDENCE OF MRS. TRENCH, ETC.
so good as to render efficient by her zealous co-operation.
Alas! that fluency which attended one's communica-
tions of earlier date will not return again, though habit
kept it up when once established: there is no second
crop of summer flowers. With my kindest regards to
you and yours, in which Mr. T. and my eldest son unite,
believe me, dear Mr. Leadbeater, very truly yours,
M. T.
PART III.
CORRESPONDENCE OF REV. GEORGE CRABBE
AND
MRS. LEADBEATER.
CORRESPONDENCE
OF THE
REV. GEO. CRABBE AND MRS. LEADBEATER.
I. FROM MRS. LEADBEATER.
Ballitore, 7th of Eleventh-month, 1816.
I believe it will surprise George Crabbe to receive
a letter from an entire stranger, whom most probably
he does not remember to have ever seen or heard of,
but who cannot forget having met him at the house of
Edmund Burke, Charles-street, James's-square, in the
year 1784. I was brought thither by my father Richard
Shackleton, the friend from childhood of Edmund
Burke. My dear father told thee that Goldsmith's
would now be the deserted village; perhaps thou dost
not remember this compliment, but I remember the
ingenuous modesty which disclaimed it. He admired
"The Village," "The Library," and "The Newspaper"
exceedingly, and the delight with which he read them
to his family could not but be acceptable to the author,
had he known the sound judgment and the exquisite
taste which that excellent man possessed. But he saw
no more of the productions of the muse he admired,
and whose originality was not the least charm. He is
dead-and the friend whom he loved and honoured,
336
CORRESPONDENCE OF REV. GEO. CRABBE
and to whose character thou dost so much justice in
the preface to "The Parish Register," is also gone to
the house appointed for all living. A splendid con-
stellation of poets arose in the literary horizon; I
looked around for Crabbe. Why does not he, who
shines as brightly as any of these, add his lustre?
had not long thought thus, when, in an Edinburgh
Review, I met with reflections similar to my own, which
introduced "The Parish Register." Oh, it was like the
sweet voice of a long-lost friend! and glad was I to
hear that voice again in "The Borough !"—still more
in "The Tales," which appear to me excelling all that
preceded them. Every work is so much in unison with
our own feelings, that a wish for information concerning
them and their author is strongly excited.
One of our friends, Dykes Alexander, who was in
Ballitore in 1810, I think, said he was personally ac-
quainted with thee, and spoke highly of thy character.
I regretted I had not an opportunity of conversing with
him on this subject, as perhaps he would have been
able to decide arguments which have arisen, whether
we owe to truth or to fiction that "ever new delight"
which thy poetry affords us. The characters, however
singular some of them may be, are never unnatural; and
the sentiments, so true to domestic and social feel-
ings, as well as to those of a higher nature, have the
convincing power of reality over the mind, and I main-
tain that the pictures are drawn from life. To enquire
whether this is the case is the excuse which I make to
myself for writing this letter. I hope the excuse may
AND MRS. LEADBEATER.
337
be accepted by thee, for I greatly fear I have taken an
unwarrantable liberty in making the enquiry. Though
advanced in life, yet from an education of peculiar
simplicity, and from never having been long absent
from my retired native village, I am too little acquainted
with decorum. If I have now transgressed the rules it
prescribes, I appeal to the candour and liberality of thy
mind to forgive a fault caused by a strong enthusiasm.
I am thy sincere friend,
MARY LEADBEATER.
P.S.-Ballitore is the village in which Edmund Burke
was educated by Abraham Shackleton, whose pupil he
became in 1741, and from whose school he entered the
College of Dublin in 1744. The school is still flourish-
ing.
II. FROM THE REV. GEORGE CRABBE.
M
Trowbridge, 1st. Dec. 1816.
Mary Leadbeater! yes, indeed, I do well remember
you; not Leadbeater then, but a pretty demure lass,
standing a timid auditor while her own verses were read
by a kind friend, but a keen judge, Edmund Burke.
And I have in my memory your father's person and
countenance, and you may be sure that my vanity
retained the compliment which he paid me in the
moment when he permitted his judgment to slip behind
his good humour and desire of giving pleasure. Yes,
I remember all who were present, and, of all, are not
VOL. II. — 22
338
CORRESPONDENCE OF REV. GEO. CRABBE
you and I the only survivors? It was the day—was
it not?—when I introduced my wife to my friend? And
now both are gone! and your father-and Richard
Burke, who was present (yet again I must ask, was he
not?)—and Mrs. Burke! all departed, and so by-and-
by they will speak of us. But in the meantime it was
good of you to write, oh! very, very good, and I do
most sincerely and heartily thank you for it.
But are you not your father's own daughter? Do
you not flatter after his manner? How do you know
the mischief that you may do in the mind of a vain
man, who is but too susceptible of praise, even while he
is conscious of so much to be placed against it? I am
glad that you like my verses, though; it would have
mortified me very much if you had not, for you can
judge as well as write.
Yours are really very
admirable things, and the morality is as pure and useful
as the literary merit is conspicuous. I am not sure
that I have read all that you have given us, but what
I have read has really that rare and almost undefinable
quality, genius: that is to say, it seizes on the mind
and commands attention, and on the heart and compels
its feelings. How could you imagine that I could be
otherwise than pleased-delighted, rather-with your
letter? And let me not omit the fact that I reply the
instant that I am at liberty, for I was enrobing myself
for church. You are a child of simplicity, I know, and
do not love robing; but you are a pupil of liberality,
and look upon such things with a large mind, smiling
in charity. Well, I was putting on the great black
AND MRS. LEADBEATER.
339
gown when my servant (you see I can be pompous, to
write of gowns and servants with such familiarity)—–
when he brought me a letter, first directed, the words
yet legible, to “George Crabbe" at Belvoir Castle, and
then by Lord Mendip to the "Rev. &c." at Trowbridge,
and at Trowbridge I hope again to receive those welcome
evidences of your remembrance, directed in all their
simplicity, and written I trust in all sincerity. But I
am straying from my purpose. I meant to inform you
that your letter reached me this morning, the first day
of the last month, for I will lose no time in returning
my thanks and assuring you of the pleasure you have
afforded me, and therefore do not think I am guilty of
voluntary delay. But if it has entered into your mind,
"This man is ungrateful, and does not appreciate the
worth of my regard," in justice, dear lady, discard the
notion; believe me that the delay was occasioned by
the change in my place of residence. I dwell in the
parsonage of a busy, populous, cloathing town, sent
thither by ambition and the Duke of Rutland. It is
situated in Wiltshire, not far from Bath. At present
I am by myself, but I expect a son and a son's wife
almost daily, who will rid me of domestic duties, and
give me leisure for the composition, or, more truly, for
the correction of another book of rhymes!—a leave-
taking of my poetical readers.
There was a Suffolk family of Alexanders, one of
whom you probably mean, and as he knew very little
of me, I see no reason why he should not give me
a good character: whether it was merited is another
22*
340
CORRESPONDENCE OF REV. GEO. CRABBE
point, and that will depend upon our ideas of a good
character. If it means, as it generally does, that I paid
my debts and was guilty of no glaring world-defying
immorality, why-yes!-I was so far a good character.
But, before the Searcher of Hearts, what are our good
characters?
But your motive for writing to me was your desire
of knowing whether my men and women were really
existing creatures, or beings of my own imagination!
Nay, Mary Leadbeater! yours was a better motive; you
thought that you should give pleasure by writing, and
yet-you will think me very vain you felt some
pleasure yourself in renewing the acquaintance that
commenced under such auspices! Am I not right?
My heart tells me that I am, and hopes that you will
confirm it. Be assured that I feel a very cordial esteem
for the friend of my friend-the virtuous, the worthy
character whom I am addressing.
Yes, I will tell you readily about my creatures, whom
I endeavour to paint as nearly as I could, and dare—
for in some cases I dared not. This you will readily
admit; besides, charity bade me be cautious. Thus far
you are correct; there is not one of whom I had not in
my mind the original, but I was obliged in most cases
to take them from their real situations, and in one or
two instances even to change the sex, and in many the
circumstances. The nearest to real life was the proud
ostentatious man in "The Borough," who disguised a
little mind by doing great things; yet others were
approaching to reality at greater or less distances In-
AND MRS. LEADBEATER.
341
deed I do not know that I could paint merely from my
own fancy, and there is no cause why I should. Is
there not diversity sufficient in society? And who can
go even but a little into the assemblies of our fellow-
wanderers from the way of perfect rectitude, and not
find characters so varied and so pointed that he need
not call upon his imagination.
Will you not write again? "Write to thee or for
the public?"-wilt thou not ask. To me, and for as
many as love and can discern the union of strength
and simplicity, purity and good sense, which they will
then meet with. "Our feelings" and "our hearts," is the
language you can adopt. Alas! I cannot with propriety
use it. Our, I could once say; but I am alone now, and
thus removing into a busy town among the multitude,
the loneliness is more apparent and more melancholy;
but this is only at times, and then I have, though at
considerable distances, six female friends unknown to
each other, but all dear, very dear to me.
With men
I do not much associate, not as deserting, much less
disliking the male part of society, but as being unfit
for it, not hardy, nor grave, not knowing enough, nor
sufficiently acquainted with the every-day business and
concerns of men; but my beloved creatures have minds
with which I can better assimilate.
Know you ought of a family Allot?—the master of it,
Dean of Raphoe. There is a daughter there I am much
disposed to love, and I believe she is not much indis-
posed to return my affection. Age has some convenience,
you find one can profess love, and feel it too, without
342
CORRESPONDENCE OF REV. GEO. CRABBE
that attendant apprehension which young people have.
Now this, construed fairly, is merely a preface to the
question, will you permit me to love you? Think of
you I must, and of me I must entreat that you would
not be unmindful.
Thine, dear lady, very truly,
GEORGE CRABBE.
III. FROM MRS. LEADBEATER.
Ballitore, 29th of Twelfth-month, 1816.
Respected friend,
When I took the liberty of addressing thee before,
I enclosed my letter to a friend, and I beg to introduce
her to thee. Should I be the means of bringing you
acquainted, I am sure thou wilt thank me, and I shall
have repaid to her the obligation she has conferred upon
me in forwarding my letter, and of course obtaining me
an answer, and such a one as my hopes could not have
aspired to. And she did this act of kindness when she
was under the weight of a heavy affliction, having just
lost by a short illness her only daughter, a lovely child
four years old. I am the almoner of her bounty and
benevolence to her poor tenants on an estate she pos-
sesses near Ballitore, consequently am favoured with
her correspondence and with a knowledge of her angelic
character. I know, sad as her heart is, she will be pleased
to hear of the gratification thou hast conferred upon
me. I cannot describe the sensations with which I
AND MRS. LEADBEATER.
343
-I
began to read thy letter-they overpowered me—
burst into tears-and even after I had recovered com-
posure, I found it necessary frequently to wipe my
spectacles before I reached the conclusion. I felt
astonishment mingled with delight to find that I, in
my lowly valley, was looked upon with such benevo-
lence by him who sits upon the top of the hill. That
benevolence encourages me again to take up the pen.
That day on which I had the pleasure of seeing thee
and thy wife was the 10th day of the Sixth-month
(June), 1784. It was the day thou introduced thy
bride to thy friend. She sat on a sofa with Jane
Burke; thou stood with Edmund near the window.
May I ask how long it is since thou wert visited by
the affliction of losing her, and how many children are
left to comfort thee? But this is a delicate chord, and
perhaps I should not touch it.
The report of my having received a letter from thee
quickly spread through Ballitore, and I was congratu-
lated by my family, friends, and neighbours with un-
feigned cordiality on this distinction; for we partake
in each other's joys and sorrows, being closely united
by friendship and good-neighbourhood. We are most-
ly a colony of Quakers, and those who are not of our
profession conform to our sober habits in their social
intercourse with us. None of us are wealthy, all de-
pending on industry for our humble competence, yet
we find time to recreate ourselves with books, and
generally see every publication which is proper for our
perusal. Some of us profess not to relish poetry, yet
344
CORRESPONDENCE OF REV. GEO. CRABBE
thou hast contrived to charm us all, and sorry shall we
be if thy next visit will be to take leave; therefore do
not mar the pleasure we anticipate by a threat so
alarming. In thy partiality for female society I think
I discern the resemblance to dear Cowper, our other
moral poet, but enlivened by that flow of cheerfulness
which he so sadly wanted.
Thy commendation of what I have written embold-
ens me to tell thee that I am about to send to London
two books to try their fortune-one in verse, of about a
thousand lines, "The Art of Being Beloved"-though
I can scarcely hope that, when booksellers have it in
their power to present fruits of exquisite flavour to the
public, they will not reject my potato-apple. I pub-
lished a volume of verses some years ago, which was
handled roughly enough by the Eclectic Review. In
prose I had better success, and my "Cottage Dialogues,"
written for the poor of my own country, met with more
approbation than I could have expected. This was
much owing to Maria Edgeworth, and to my good
friend the Bishop of Meath, who patronized them. I
have now written "Cottage Biography," a collection of
lives of my poor country-folk,-real facts, aiming to
show that there are worthy persons amongst them; and
I have better hopes and stronger wishes for that than
for the attempt at poetry.
I cannot define my motive for writing to thee. I
persuaded myself that it was the wish to be assured of
the reality of thy characters; I suppose I also wished
to know thy own; but I did not imagine I could give
AND MRS. LEADBEATER.
345
pleasure to thee by such an address. Indeed I feared
offending, though that fear was soon dissipated when I
opened any one of thy volumes. How condescending
art thou to gratify my curiosity, and how glad am I to
find myself right in my conjecture; but I felt confident
that what impressed our hearts so deeply must be truth.
I could say much more, but I curb myself, considering
who I am and whom I address, and am, with sentiments
of gratitude and respect,
Sincerely thy friend,
MARY LEADBEATER.
IV. FROM MRS. LEADBEATER.
Ballitore, 15th of Ninth-month, 1817.
Respected friend,
The kindness conspicuous in every line of thy
letter emboldens me to take the liberty of addressing
thee again, and, proceeding farther, to present to one who
moves in the highest rank of poetical fame some dog-
grel lines of my own. The excuse I make to myself for
doing this, is the wish which I have so often felt that
some of my excellent countrymen were known to thee
so well as to obtain the distinction which thy muse can
confer. I believe in no country can a character be found
more worthy to be thus distinguished than Thomas
Parnell, brother to Sir Henry Parnell. I do not know
him personally, but have been rapt in admiration at the
accounts of his acts of munificence and self-denial. The
346
CORRESPONDENCE OF REV. GEO. CRABBE
story I have endeavoured to tell thee is one among
many instances of his benevolence. While I was writ-
ing it I received accounts of the escape of a spirit like
his own,-one who was to me as a younger brother,
whose friendship made one of the delights of my life,
and which I expected would have been continued to
my children when I was no more; but I have outlived
him! I now regret I did not send him a copy of thy
letter to me, instead of keeping it till he should come
here it was his joy to see his friends made happy, and
I know this would have been a delicious treat to him.
Permit me to send thee part of a letter I received from
him at the time "The Borough," appeared. His name
was William P. Le Fanu:-"I have been reading
"Crabbe's last poem, called 'The Borough.' It abounds
"with accurate drawings from common life, and the
"language is nervous. It will not please the million
"who turn from common life in quest of imaginary
"sketches. One would think you and he had seen and
"venerated the same objects, the lonely ancient poor,
"who were only taught to read their Bibles, and scarcely
perhaps to write their names, and are now centered in
"peace and rest. There is throughout this fine poem
66
a knowledge of human character and a spirit of true
"benevolence that are extremely pleasing. Speaking
"of the propriety of assisting the poor in their own
"habitations, and of not sending them to workhouses
"at a distance from their ancient dwellings, he has
"most correct and just sentiments." Thy "Tales" he
gave a more public review of in the Farmer's Journal,
(C
AND MRS. LEADBEATER.
347
of which he was the editor. His virtues and his talents
were of a superior order, and humility, simplicity, and
the gaiety of a guileless heart made him as delightful a
companion as he was a faithful and judicious friend.
In the sorrow occasioned by his death, all who had any
knowledge of him partake, according to the opportunity
they had of loving him. He will not see the volume
of poetry thou promises; but I shall, I hope. We want
such a muse as thine to strengthen and improve the
minds wearied with representations of horrors, or be-
guiled by the dazzle of false glory and of vice dressed in
splendid attire.
There is a kind-heartedness so evident in thy charac-
ter, that I feel less embarrassed than when I began to
write, and a hope arises that perhaps I may be favoured
with another letter from thee, which, considering how
valuable thy time is, is not a very modest request. I
have heard that the daughters of the family of Allot are
very musical, and that their father is very witty. I can-
not learn any farther about them; my situation is very
remote from theirs, and my opportunity of knowing.
much beyond my own limits is confined. I must enter-
tain respect for those who are thy friends, and beg to
enter into their train,
Thy obliged and sincere friend,
MARY LEADBEATER.
348
CORRESPONDENCE OF REV. GEO. CRABBE
V.-FROM THE REV. GEO. CRABBE.
Trowbridge, 30th October, 1817.
My dear Lady,
Though you are a very naughty flatterer in
some, nay, in a large portion of your letters, yet I can-
not but be pleased with you, and it is a gratification to
myself when I sit down to this employment, which
would not have been so long deferred had not an absence
of uncertain duration caused the detention of my letters
in this place, where I was daily expected. When I
accuse you of praising with so enthusiastic a pen, I am
but too willing to admit as much for truth as I can. The
kind-heartedness which you would see in me I am not
unwilling to believe my due, and as you know not the
number of weaknesses with which it is attended, you
may be justified in mentioning this good quality with-
out its alloy. But remember, my obliging friend, that
you must omit or qualify your approbation in future.
I am, in common with all our fraternity, but too sensi-
ble of praise; and were it not for the consciousness of
many errors and frailties compassing me on every side,
and one dear friend near, to tell me when I more particu-
larly err, I know not how much of vanity might be con-
jured up by the charm of such a call as yours. Soberly
speaking, however, I am well pleased that you and your
friends, of whom you speak so well, approve my verses,
G
AND MRS. LEADBEATER.
349
and I shall be glad if those which may appear in some
three or four months should confirm this favourable
opinion. There now! is not that modestly written?
After all, I am afraid you will find in me a kind of
coy acceptance of the applause which I would seem to
reject. What deceivers of themselves are men!
Your verses are natural, easy, and, as I verily believe,
like your whole mind. You interested me for your
poor man, whom I was pleased to find at liberty, and
with freedom likewise from his severer bondage-an
evil and darling habit; yet I think your prose,—but I
am not certain,-superior to your versification, it is so
well adapted to your subjects. I hope that what you
print does not escape me. My son reads the papers,
and so I miss a view of the books that are advertised.
Tell me then, dear lady, what you do for the public,
and (if you can be very kind) what you intend to do.
Do you read our poetry? There is a poem called
Paris," which has received and appears entitled to
much praise; and I venture to say it, though our
Quarterly Review traces in it an imitation to Lord
Byron and myself. His lordship I never saw, and he
is now the only one of my contemporary rhymers whom
I have not met. Mr. Moore is coming to reside near
me. Mr. Rogers, who wrote the "Pleasures of Memo-
ry," and who is too wealthy and gives too great dinners
for a poet, has been of much service to me by intro-
ducing me to almost every man in our own way whom
he was acquainted with, and in this number were com-
prehended all of whom I was very desirous to obtain
"6
350
CORRESPONDENCE OF REV. GEO. CRABBE
a knowledge. My last visit to town was indeed a rich
one: I had new things to see, and perhaps was some-
what of a novelty myself. It is marvellous how little
of this will awake the curiosity of some individuals, and
even some societies. I know not how to describe the
new and probably (most probably) the last work I shall
publish. My friends decided that "Remembrances"
should be the title. Though a village is the scene of
meeting between my two principal characters, and gives
occasion to other characters and relations in general, yet
I no more describe the manners of village inhabitants.
My people are of superior classes, though not the most
elevated, and, with a few exceptions, are of educated
and cultivated minds and habits. I have a considerable
number of Tales, but whether of an interesting kind it
is not easy for me to decide. I hope to copy my now
scattered papers within about three months: there are
with these some few things in the manner of “Sir
Eustace Grey." And now, dear lady, I have given you,
though a very brief account, yet the best I can give at
this time. I will, however, add that I do not know on
a general view whether my tragic or lighter tales, &c.
are most in number; of those equally well executed,
the tragic will, I suppose, make the greater impression;
but I know not that it requires more attention.
I know not whom you have with you at your fire-
side, so I can send to you only general good wishes.
have not mentioned the friend whom you mention so
respectfully, and with such affectionate remembrance of
his worth. What, indeed, can one write on such an
AND MRS. LEADBEATER.
351
occasion, where duty and affection, regret and conso-
lation contend for and divide the mind between them?
Adieu, my dear madam. Write to me again and
again. It would give me much pleasure if I could be
with you, but so many impediments keep me hopeless:
in this way we may sometimes converse, and I should
be sorry if I were now taking my leave finally-very
sorry. I have just received twelve volumes of Mr.
Burke's writings, with which I have indulged myself :
some written at that very time, and they will have
another interest. Let me stand well with you: think
of me not highly, but affectionately; and believe me,
with cordial regard and esteem, yours,
GEORGE CRABBE.
VI.-FROM MRS. LEADBEATER.
Ballitore, 1st of Twelfth-month, 1817.
Be bold, be bold-be not too bold.
I have, indeed, been so bold that I wonder at myself.
If I become too bold, I may be tempted to charge my
trespass upon the encouragement thou hast given me.
My friends often enquired if I had received a second
letter from the poet. No: I was highly honoured by
one, and could not expect a repetition of such a favour.
I spoke thus; yet there was lurking in a secret corner
of my mind a hope which I sought to repress, and I
had almost succeeded when on the morning of the 20th
I saw amongst the letters the frank dated from Trow-
352
CORRESPONDENCE OF REV. GEO. CRABBE
bridge. The tide of grateful sensations prompts me to
an immediate reply.
And dost thou delight to honour me by admitting
me into the favoured circle of thy female friends? It
is a place of high distinction!-yet I must retort the
charge of flattery upon thee, my gifted friend. Surely
I know nothing I could say, if I said all I thought of
thy genius, could make thee vain; but could I imagine
that was in my power, it would tend to make me very
conceited. I will not say what I think; that is, I will
not say all I think, but just give me leave to thank thee
for giving us poetry which we may put into the hands
of our children, without fear of their imbibing false
ideas from the perusal of it, and also without fear of
their throwing it aside, as they might what was only
didactic, and not given in narrations at once so true
and so interesting; where exquisite pathos and exquisite
humour unite in the cause of virtue; where they are
not taught to admire the conqueror stained with the
blood of his brothers; where Blayney is not a “gallant
gay Lothario," nor Celia an interesting though too
susceptible fair one, but where sin is shown to be
exceedingly sinful, and its wages to be death. Oh! go
on and prosper, for this is a good work!
I congratulate thee and thine on thy meeting with
kindred spirits, yet I felt a little regret when thou said
that my melodious countryman Moore was going to
reside near thee. Forgive me for this, for I hope the
regret was more patriotic than selfish. Him I suppose
I shall never see, though I have an ardent curiosity
1
AND MRS. LEADBEATER.
353
to behold distinguished persons. I have never seen
my countrywoman Maria Edgeworth, though I have
had several kind letters from her, nor have I seen Lady
Morgan, with whose "France" we have been much
entertained.
(6
"(
My mind has not recovered the wound occasioned
by the death of my dear William P. Le Fanu. He was
a most estimable member of public and private society:
Weeping, we say, he was!" He it was who always
encouraged me to face the public-the dreaded public.
Try and write a tale thyself," said one of my
friends. I tried, and took a circumstance which I had
heard in my young days from a Welsh clergyman who
knew the fact. My tale was finished, and ready to
read to my eldest daughter on her return from a visit,
as a new Tale by Crabbe." It was read, and well
read, aloud. My daughter listened, and gave it all due
commendation. "But it is not Crabbe's,—it wants
the spirit, the terseness, the raciness, the painting of
Crabbe.-Crabbe never wrote that tale," said my dis-
cerning Elizabeth !
،،
I am now ashamed at the length of this letter. For-
give the liberty I have taken, and accept the good
wishes of this little community given with all sincerity.
Thy much obliged and sincere friend,
MARY LEADBEATER.
VOL. II.-23
354 CORRESPONDENCE OF REV. GEO. CRABBE
VII.—FROM THE REV. GEORGE CRABBE.
Trowbridge, 7th September, 1818.
I know very well, my dear lady, that the mind in its
sorrows and troubles, besides that first and greatest
support which it seeks, will likewise feel a secondary
consolation in the sympathy of friends and even in
awakening that sympathy. The children who sit in
the market-place of this world of trial say to their
fellows, "We mourn to you, " and they should be
answered, “We weep.
"We weep." And so it should be; it would
be miserable indeed if we had not some hearts to feel
for us and with us.
I can most readily believe all that even a sister says
of a brother, but I have nothing to add on the occasion,
assured that your own mind has in itself every comfort
that I could suggest, and many doubtless that I could
not. You knew him intimately; I can have only the
general ideas of a good man.
Your letter dated the 29th August did not reach me
till the fifth of this month, and that in the evening.
Yesterday I was too much engaged to write, for mine is
a very populous parish, and requires much attendance,
and this day I purpose to fulfil an engagement which
will detain me till the 11th or 12th; and being unwill-
ing that your kind and friendly letter should remain
so long unacknowledged, I am sitting down with all
my business and duties in contemplation-to give you
AND MRS. LEADBEATER.
355
thanks, to ask you to excuse a hurried and confused
reply, and to promise, like other naughty children, that
I will do better for the time to come.
And it is this same hurry that put out of my mind
what I was about to observe afore, when I was speak-
ing of our claims to the sympathies of our friends. I
was going to mention that they are indeed our friends
whom we then call upon; the mind turns to them, and
if this be in any degree truth, then I am more obliged
to you still; for however assured we are that those who
profess to regard us are sincere, yet none of us dislike
the proofs and evidences of their sincerity.
A description of your village society-for I must not
slide but break into my subjects-would be very grati-
fying to me. How the manners differ from those in
larger societies, or in those under different circumstances.
I have observed an extraordinary difference in village
manners in England; especially between those places
otherwise nearly alike, where there was, or where there
was not, a leading man or a squire's family, or a manu-
factory near, or a populous vitiated town, &c.—all
these and many other circumstances have great influ-
Your quiet village with such influencing minds
I am disposed to think highly of-no one perhaps very
rich, none miserably poor, no girls from six years old
to sixteen sent to a factory, where men, women, and
children of all ages are continually with them breathing
contagion not all, however; we are not all so evil;
there is a resisting power, and it is strong; but the
thing itself, the congregating of so many minds and the
ence.
:
23
356
CORRESPONDENCE OF REV. GEO. CRABBE
intercourse it occasions will have its powerful and visi-
ble effect. But of this you have not; yet, as you
mention your schools of both kinds, you must be more
populous and perhaps not so happy as I was giving
myself to believe.
We had a singular man-and I must have his name
before I release you-from Ireland, and with your inost
inveterate accent and tone. He gave us (in a public
meeting) a long, very long account of his efforts to con-
vert Catholics by a communication of the Bible, and
gave us instances of the avidity with which some
Catholic poor people sought and read them. His zeal
was the best of him; I can have no doubt of that, but
much of the discretion of his avowed opposition to the
Catholics, and his complaint, where I am not sure he
was not the aggressor: he surely could not expect that
a Catholic priest (who is sincere) will quietly give up
the people whom he has guided. We have much of
this zeal scattered about, of which I scarcely know
what to think. Have you Bible Societies in Ireland?
and do you send them about wherever you can? Is
there not a text, "Let not your good be evil spoken of”?
That is the misfortune and the frailty of unguided zeal:
its good has evil spoken of it.
I will write my name, and look for two lines; but
complying with you, my dear lady, is a kind of vanity.
I find, however, no particular vexation of spirit, and
will do as you desire. Indeed your desire must be
very unlike yours if I were not glad to comply with it;
for the world has not spoiled you, Mary, I do believe.
AND MRS. LEADBEATER.
357
•
Now it has me. I have been absorbed in its mighty
vortex, and gone into the midst of its greatness, and
joined in its festivities and frivolities, and been intimate
with its children. You may like me very well, my
kind friend, while the purifying water, and your more
effectual imagination are between us; but come you to
England, or let me be in Ireland, and place us together
till mind becomes acquainted with mind-and then!
Ah! Mary Leadbeater! you would have done with
your friendships with me! Child of simplicity and
virtue, how can you let yourself be so deceived? Am
I not a great fat rector living upon a mighty income,
while my poor curate starves with six hungry children
upon the scraps that fall from the luxurious table?
Do I not visit that horrible London, and enter into
its abominable dissipations? Am I not this day going
to dine on venison and drink claret? Have I not been
at election dinners, and joined the Babel confusion of a
town-hall? Child of simplicity, am I fit to be a friend
to you, and to the peaceful, mild, pure, and gentle
people about you? One thing is true-I wish I had
the qualification. But I am of the world, Mary.
Though I hope to procure a free cover for you, yet I
dare not be sure, and so must husband my room.-I
am sorry for your account of the fever among your
poor. Would I could suggest anything. I shall dine
with one of our representatives to-day; but such sub-
jects pass off. All say, "Poor people! I am sorry
and there it ends.
"
My verses are not yet entirely ready, but do not
358
CORRESPONDENCE OF REV. GEO. CRABBE
want much that I can give them. Sometime in the
passing year I believe some publisher will advertise
them. If I had room, you should have some account
of them. I return all your good wishes, and think of
you with much regard,—more than indeed belongs to a
man of the world. "Still be permitted occasionally to
address thee!" Oh! my dear Mrs. Leadbeater, this is
so humble that I am afraid it is vain. Well, write
soon then, and believe me sincerely and affectionately
yours,
GEORGE CRABBE.
VIII.-FROM MRS. LEADBEATER.
Ballitore, 21st of Ninth-month, 1818.
The most cheerful day which I passed since I lost
my dear, dear brother was that which brought me thy
letter, my highly esteemed friend. That letter was the
cause of this renovation, and though I read it with
many tears, they were grateful rather than sorrowful.
So prompt an answer in the midst of thy avocations,
and such an answer to a letter of querulous sadness,
shows a mind imbued with kindness, and with that
humility which can stoop without appearing to stoop.
I assure thee it was not vanity or affectation which
caused me to ask for liberty to address thee. Thou
sees I am in haste to avail myself of thy permis-
sion. I was never taught to look up with reverence to
the wealthy or the mighty, in the few opportunities I
AND MRS. LEADBEATER.
359
have had of doing so; but, from my dawning of mind,
virtue, genius, and learning appeared to me to be the
highest distinction of our nature.
I am gratified by thy desire for a description of our
village society, and that I can assure thee we have no
manufactory, no barrack, no populous town, no squire's
family to interrupt "the noiseless tenor of our way"-
none who take the lead, except by superior excellence
of character and conduct. Our situation resembles the
little town of Bost, which gave birth to Marmontel.
*
*
Have I given too partial an account of our little
community? Ask those who visit Ballitore, who quit
it with regret, and return to it with delight, some of
whom call it "The Classic Vale," others "The Happy
Valley"-they all agree that we live like one large
family. Having been from infancy to age preserved in
this safe enclosure, and surrounded by excellent ex-
amples, have I not much to be accountable for ?
-
If the graceful figure which I saw in London, described
by my father as
"the youth with the sour name and
the sweet countenance," has become somewhat corpulent,
that is a consequence of good humour as well as good
living; and why not partake of venison and claret with
the moderation which such a mind will dictate?
The
* The description of Ballitore and its society is here omitted,
as it would be only a repetition of much which will be found in
"The Annals."
збо
CORRESPONDENCE OF REV. GEO, CRABBE
sentiment expressed in an old song has sometimes
occurred to me—
Deceit may dress in linen gown,
And truth in diamonds shine.
Even in my own contracted sphere I have had oppor-
tunities of perceiving the virtues which, beaming from
the zenith of wealth or rank, diffuse their influence to
a wide extent.
I recognize in thy description of my countryman, the
famous Thady Connellan, of whom I have heard much,
though I have never seen him. There are Bible Societies
in Ireland, and very favourable reports of their efforts
have reached us. We do not find it incumbent on us
to press the reading of the scriptures on our servants,
as it is a book forbidden by their priests; yet our gar-
dener, the strictest among them, and who has been on
a pilgrimage to the Holy Island in Lough Derg, delights
in hearing the Bible, and always makes one at our
evening readings, on the First-day of the week.
It was for my friend Thomas Wilkinson, the Cumber-
land Quaker poet, that I wanted thy handwriting and
name, to add to a collection more interesting than the
cabinet of the virtuoso often exhibits. The six lines
thou so kindly sent make us wish for the discarded
poem.
What an epithet for a poem of thine!
Have thy visits to London, and intimacies with the
great men of the earth, weakened the bonds which
attached thee to thy female friends? If so, I pity them;
and as for myself, standing at a distance and coming in
AND MRS. LEADBEATER.
361
late, I must in that case expect a dismissal. Indeed I
fear I may have already incurred that fate by troubling
thee with so tedious a letter. I wish thee an increase
of every happiness, not excepting that "honest fame"
which is doubly due to genius dedicated to virtue; and
am, with esteem, thy obliged friend,
MARY LEADBEATER.
IX. FROM THE REV. GEORGE CRABBE.
Trowbridge, Wilts, 5th Nov., 1819.
My dear Madam,
Are you not a little naughty-more than a
little-to write in a style so soothing to the vanity of
authorship? Or do you believe me to be so correct,
so conscious of balancing errors and infirmities, that
your praises would only serve to give the moderate
elevation of spirits which necessarily results from a
friend's approbation? Alas! that vanity has its insinua-
tions of so powerful a kind, that they make their way
into minds the most fortified by self-denial and guarded
by humility! Yet I am sure you meant no more than
to give that pleasure which your approval must afford,
and I will not chide you for the pleasing feelings which
stole upon me as I read your friendly and affectionate
letter; but I will gladly accept the testimony of your
regard, and set my failings and infirmities in battle-
array against your joint and powerful commendation. In
truth, my dear lady, something will and must be allowed
362
CORRESPONDENCE OF REV. GEO. CRABBE
for our satisfaction in a friend's approbation, and I will
not suppress the honest avowal of that which you have
given me. I will own that there is a pleasure in the
very act of composing verses, and there is (though of a
more mixed kind) pleasure also in the submitting our
efforts to the public; but the higher and more genuine
satisfaction comes from the approving pen of the friends
whom we love, and of whose judgment and power of
deciding we are well informed. As Sir Henry Engle-
field, one of your admirers, truly says "The honest
opinion of the author of the 'Cottage Dialogues' must
ever have its value. She who can so write must be
a judge of what is written."
66
66
I have oftentimes thought and sometimes said how
much I should love to see the whole fraternity of you
in your commonwealth of Ballitore; and yet I am not
fitted to be one of the members of that amiable society.
I am a creature of this world, and mix too much with
its people to be one of you; and yet I love you too,
and am not so far a disciple of the relaxed philosophy
of the great world, as not to covet the enjoyments of
simplicity, domestic affection, moral refinement, and
unaffected sensibility; for so I appreciate your worth,
and you may be sure that so thinking I am not so lost
to nature and truth as to be indifferent to the worth of
which I am able to form an estimate. I very much
love those young people of yours. You appear to be
an agreeing and assorting kind of folk! Would that
seventy miles of water, and that salt and billowy water,
were not between us! In England, indeed—and yet I
((
++
AND MRS. LEADBEATER.
363
must not boast of my travelling energies neither, but
there is a probability where there is a carriage-road and
solid earth. I am just returned from a visit to Cromer.
Money and versification have not of late that utter
dissociation and repugnancy that they had of old.
Scott is wealthy. Lord Byron might be. Moore is
indigent only by accident. Rogers is rich and bounti-
ful. The Lake Poets, if they have not money, say they
want none; and I, who do not say so, have as much as
does me good; and if I wish for one scrap of bank paper
more, it is not for any indulgence to my own whims,
appetites, or inclinations. So it is a time of rich poets,
but, whether of rich poetry-no! that is another thing!
A letter from Mr. Murray informs me that he is about
to put me in splendid company, by engaging a celebrated
artist to paint about thirty pictures for so many engrav-
ings to the verses which best afford scope and matter
for his talents; and I am afraid in this case it will not
be in my power to be a purchaser of my own rhymes.
I have at this time a house of sadness and suspense
our only little one, a girl about two months old,
appearing with a frame and constitution unsuited to the
roughness of the world. She breathes with pain, and
has often symptoms of decay. The parents are disap-
pointed, but bear the evil with fortitude-patience, I
believe I should say. My elder son has two healthy
children, so that the unpoetical and rude name is likely
to live at least one generation longer. We are quiet in
this part of the land, and in fact our tumults depend
not upon politics, but the employment of the inhabit-
G
364
CORRESPONDENCE OF REV. GEO. CRABBE
ants. If they have work, they are peaceable and loyal;
if not, they are whigs, rebels and reformists.
17th Feb., 1820.-You see, my dear madam, how long
since I thought of my debt to you. To-morrow we in
this place look for an assembling of the people, and
are doubtful whether they will be perfectly satisfied.
George the Fourth is to be proclaimed king, and the
silence so acceptable in general in a numerous assembly
would here be dissatisfaction. How the event will be
received in Ireland does not yet appear, but you are in
a very quiet county, I believe.
Dear lady, forgive me my long silence. It would be
unjust and ungenerous to ask that I might hear of you
again, and that soon, after such an interval; but I have
some little plea to make, and have hold upon your pity,
for I have very much to do, and my spirits are not equal
to my demand for them. My son is lost to me at this
time, being with his wife in Suffolk. Our little baby
died.
Accept my best respects and sincere good wishes.
Present them to my younger friends, whom I should
be glad to see, and, next that pleasure, to hear of
Teach your friends to reckon amongst them yours affec-
tionately,
G. CRABBE.
↑
AND MRS. LEADBEATER.
365
X.-FROM MRS. LEADBEATER.
Ballitore, 15th of Fourth-month, 1820.
"Think of it," says my youngest daughter to me,
letter from Crabbe to thee lying on our little round
table!" Perhaps we are romantic, and more prone
to castle-building than befits us, but, yielding to this
propensity, we would gladly waft thee in person to
Ireland, to our neighbourhood.
If thou, my kind friend, had been an invisible wit-
ness of the effect which thy letter had upon me and
mine, thy generous heart would, I believe, induce thee
to repeat the favour oftener than once a year. Our
neighbours participated in our enjoyment, as they had
participated in my fears that I should never more be
thus favoured, especially when 1819 passed by without
my receiving this annual gratification. My niece Betsy
told me she was afraid I had wearied thee by too long
letters; and indeed, when I recollected how much I had
poured upon thee, I was quite of her mind. She said
this in sorrow, not in reproof, for she loves me next to
her mother, and I love her next to my own children.
Yet she said she believed I should hear from thee
again, though it appeared unreasonable to expect such
a portion of thy time. Some of my friends felt a little
jealous that I had not sent to let them know of the
arrival of thy letter the day it came, as the inhabitants
of Ballitore are flattered by the honour received by one
CC
a
366
CORRESPONDENCE OF REV. GEO. CRABBE
of their community. What then must the receiver
feel?
We are sincerely concerned at anything which gives
thee pain, and of course regret the death of thy little
granddaughter and the absence of her parents. The
pretty babe has safely shot the gulf which lies before us
all, and I hope thou art now, or wilt soon be, cheered
by the return of thy son, and relased from other cares,
to contribute to our instruction and delight.
We thank thee for thy good opinion of our sex, and
prize thy forty years' experience more than the eulogiums
on Clara's bringing water to the dying Marmion-an
act of only common humanity, even though he was her
enemy. Is it not a proof that the world is growing
better when it permits poets to grow rich? Refinement
in perception induces refinement in sentiment, and of
course in manners, and is the friend of virtue. Certainly
if an unfortunate poetaster now puts forth the head, it is
quickly obliged to shrink back into the shell. So be it,
while we bask in the full blaze of genius. Byron, with
his commanding powers, lords it over our imagination,
and bears us away on the strong tide of his fancy, yet
leaves an impression of sadness and dismay. Not so
the "Ariosto of the North," who concludes so happily,
but who loves war too well, and dresses brutal characters
too finely. Rogers and Campbell with their fine didac-
tic poems, and the enchanting "Gertrude" of the one,
and the "Human Life" of the other; the grand but
unequal Southey, the pensive Mongomery, our own
tuneful Moore, what a brilliant galaxy do they form!
AND MRS. LEADBEATER.
367
I say nothing of the first moral poet of this time. I
am sincerely glad to hear of the union of the sister arts
which Murray proposes to accomplish, though I think
it will be difficult to limit to thirty the subjects afforded
by the "pictured page," where every page is a picture.
Our young people are delighted that thou should send
them a message of love. They deserve it. Yes-age
and youth can assimilate (though Shakespeare denies it)
in the sweet interchange of sentiments-one instructing
and the other enlivening. "I am sorry you are so old,"
said a little girl to me; "I hope you will not grow
older;" and I was flattered by the well-meant wish.
Our part of the country is peaceable at present, and
elsewhere the snake appears to be scotched, if not killed.
Ireland has been greatly injured by her absentees. The
great men who remain in their native land have much
influence with our grateful, generous, warm-hearted
people. Lord de Vesci has established schools on
Pestalozzi's plan, for both rich and poor. The Duke
and Duchess of Leinster are well spoken of; so is Sir
Charles Coote; and Thomas Parnell walks as an angel
I believe and hope there are many others
among men.
who exercise benevolence; but the licentious, the
haughty, the unfeeling, and the sordid must expect to
meet the consequences of their examples in those upon
whom they look down.
Farewell, much esteemed friend! All Ballitore
greets thee!
M. LEADBEATER.
368
CORRESPONDENCE OF REV. GEO. CRABBE
XI. FROM MRS. LEADBEATER.
M
Ballitore, 24th of Ninth-month, 1820.
Thou desired me, my esteemed friend, to write to
thee often, and I have flattered myself that an occasional
greeting from me may not be unacceptable. I have
long purposed to send thee sketches of the pictures we
propose for thy work. But thy works are borrowed
continually from me, and the "Tales of the Hall” are a
hundred long Irish miles distant. I feel lonely without
them, but I must not be churlish.
My present reason for writing is to introduce to thee
one of thy ardent admirers. Forgive me, too, if I in-
trude upon thy domestic scene. I want to be assured
that thy son and his wife and children have returned
to thee, and are not only cheering thee with their
society, but have set thee at liberty to continue to give
us that instruction and delight which our unwearied
appetites crave. The sun as he declines towards the
horizon diffuses a more refulgent lustre, and thus thy
last work is acknowledged to outshine its predecessors;
thou should be prevailed upon to give us another, and
yet another.
We have just read with great satisfaction the "Me-
moirs of Richard Lovell Edgeworth." I hope his ad-
mirable daughter is known to thee. She is the
She is the gem of
our Emerald Isle, and her character is as amiable as it
is exalted. Was it to Emmeline, her sister, that thy
AND MRS. LEADBEATER.
369
friend John King was married? I ask questions as if
I wrote to an equal. With unfeigned sentiments of
respect and gratitude we all salute thee.
Thy obliged friend,
MARY LEADBEATER.
XII.-FROM THE REV. GEORGE CRABBE.
Trowbridge, Wilts, December, 1820.
My dear friend,
First let me give you thanks, gratefully and
earnestly; and then let me chide you, aye, and gratefully
and earnestly too, for how can I be but grateful, even
when I blame you? Happily I am too conscious of
many, many flaws and infirmities of character to be
materially hurt by flattery; but still, recollect that you
perceive only one side, and that the favourable one.
You are blinded, my dear lady, by your partiality; and
I am too much pleased with your language, and too
well convinced of the genuine goodness of the heart
whence it sprang, to be seriously disposed; my remon-
strance is that of self-knowledge and not that of ingra-
titude. But then, my dear lady, there is another
fault. You say, "you ask questions as if you wrote to
an equal!" To whom do you write? If to a friend,
friendship finds or makes equality; and if to the author
of certain tales, the writer of the "Cottage Dialogues"
might, if her feelings would permit her, demand her
place by the side of any of those who have diligently
observed and accurately described the characters of
VOL. II.-24
370
CORRESPONDENCE OF REV, GEO. CRABBE
human beings, various and complicated as they are.
Did I ever inform you how highly my friend Sir Henry
Englefield classes you? But I foresee you will turn
again and bid me take heed of my own language. Well,
be it so; there is some difficulty in this, I allow, and
just commendation is not flattery; but then much de-
pends upon the subject who is addressed. You are an
equal-minded, steady sort of creature, and praise fairly
merited may do you good, at least no harm; whereas
I am an agitated and expectant candidate for popular
notice, and apt to grow self-important on every breath
of applause, if it comes from a quarter that renders it
acceptable and precious.
The drawings are by Westall, are well executed, about
thirty in number, and I suppose Mr. Murray will make
an expensive book of it. I hope it will be a profitable
one to him, for he paid me liberally, and I made over
to him all my right and interest in it. I scarcely know
whether at this time I can be said to be about anything
of the kind; just of the kind, certainly not, but the
mind, accustomed to its mode of employing itself, will
not suddenly be quiet, unless taken off or agitated by
some important avocations.
Did you know R. L. Edgeworth? You know the one
omission in all the works of his daughter, and her sen-
timents are said to be derived from him? Were they
indeed unbelievers in revealed religion? It is a ques-
tionable point in England with those who knew them
only in their publications. Miss Edgeworth, as a moral-
ist, is almost unexceptionable-I do not say entirely so;
AND MRS. LEADBEATER.
371
and if she has the misfortune to be without the comfort
which the Gospel affords, she has performed a difficult
task in preserving her morals unconnected with religion.
If she believe in any sense of the word, even the lowest,
I perceive no reason for her reserve, since she needed
not to have been so pointed as to have espoused any of
the various denominations of Christians. Of her gene-
ral character I am disposed to think highly, and of her
writings almost enthusiastically. She has that happy
faculty of letting you know always what she means, so
that you have not to stop every little while and say to
yourself, "What is all this about ?”
I shall now bid you farewell, for my son and his
Anna call me from my study to join them for the even-
ing; for so we live. I have my room, where I am
monarch-sole sovereign, subject sole! And when I
please I enter their apartment-but this is not often,
except on visits of friends, and at dinner, &c. The
evening brings us together. They are vastly good to
me, and I put off the grave and querulous senior as
well as I can, in gratitude for their attention to what
cannot be put off.
As I am preparing to make a visit to one who can
direct my letter to you, I will take it with me; and
though yours demanded more attention, yet I must
claim your pardon on the account of public business in
naughty times, when no man, I am afraid, can be ex-
cusably neuter; and yet I thoroughly dislike all meet-
ings of such nature, all popular harangues and eloquence,
and nothing but duty imperiously calling me could
24*
372
CORRESPONDENCE OF REV. GEO. CRABBE
make me leave my more pleasant employments. I
shall always, my dear lady, be glad to hear of you, and
still more from you; and if any friend of yours come
this way, oblige us by giving him a commission to Trow-
bridge. Remember me to my younger friends of your
house, and believe me always affectionately yours,
GEORGE CRABBE.
XIII. FROM MRS. LEADBEATER.
Ballitore, 12th of Fourth-month, 1821.
G
If my horizon was as cloudless as it usually is, or if
impending clouds had burst upon me, I do not suppose
I should have been so long without replying to thy
valued letter, my honoured friend. In the first case
my spirits enlivened by pleasant objects would naturally
turn to him whose friendship heightens every joy. If
quite oppressed by sorrow, my heart would seek for that
sympathy already experienced to be soothing. The in-
creasing kindness of thy letters increases my grateful
sensations; and when my simple efforts have obtained
the approbation of the first moral poet of the time, and
of his friend Sir Henry Englefield, is it surprizing that
I should be inflated thereby? Thou art too benevolent
to intend to turn the brain of a poor old woman by
commendation so valued, though thou hast practised on
my credulity by a little deception; and, from being
always accustomed to matter of fact, I generally take
what I hear in a literal sense. A gentlewoman once
assured me that the husband of her waiting-woman
AND MRS. LEADBEATER.
373
came to her house "stark naked-naked as he was born."
I said “Oh, dear!" and reflected with pity on the poor
man's situation, certainly thinking him mad, as maniacs
often throw away their clothes. My neighbour went on,
"His coat was so ragged, his hat so shabby !"—and to
my surprise I found the man was fully dressed, though
in a garb ill-befitting the spouse of a lady's-maid.
Thus thou made me believe thou wert in portly case,
by saying, "Am I not a great fat rector?" We said it
was the exuberance of good humour that caused this in-
crease of size—but “ a curate with six hungry children"
staggered our belief. Now, we know thy son is thy
curate, and that thou art light and active in form, with
looks irradiated by genuine kindness of heart.
I do not believe that Richard Lovell Edgeworth and
his admirable daughter were unbelievers in revealed
religion, his life was so useful, his death so tranquil,
and her character so excellent. Yet I do not vindicate
the reserve thou mentions; I had rather it was other-
wise, and that to good examples some precept had been
added. Many feel a diffidence in attempting to handle
the sacred subject of religion, and perhaps this diffidence
is increased by seeing it frequently introduced in some-
what of a canting style; yet we have instances where
"piety has found friends in the friends of science,"
where the truths of Christianity are inculcated with the
graces of poetry, and even of wit, humour, and “legiti-
mate satire;" where it penetrates into the heart rather
than obtrudes on the eye. When talents are thus de-
voted, what a spring of happiness rises in the breast,
374
CORRESPONDENCE OF REV. GEO. CRABBE
overflowing and comforting all around! And should
not those talents be kept in action ?
I wonder that so good a man as Richardson should
have written that dangerous book, "Pamela." I met
with one volume when I was young; my mother also
met with it, and committed it to the flames. A sketch
of the story was told to a young girl here the other day.
I enjoyed her honest surprise, when, opening her fine
black eyes to their full dimensions, she exclaimed,
"And would she marry him?" Believe me thy obliged
and faithful friend,
MARY LEADBEATER.
XIV FROM THE REV. GEORGE CRABBE.
Trowbridge, Wilts, 25th November, 1822.
It is not easy, my dear friend, to judge what you
think of me; but my apprehensions dictate to me that
you are—as much as so mild and placid a being will per-
mit herself to be-sadly displeased, and I know not
what coldness and harshness of character you may not
impute to me. But call up, I pray you, all that mild-
ness and kindness of your disposition, and then hear
me with your wonted patience, and, may I not add, with
your wonted partiality. I am visited by a painful dis-
order, which, though it leaves me many intervals of ease
and comfort, yet compels me to postpone much of what
may be called the business of my life till I am equal to
the duty. And thus, having many things to do, and a
comparatively short time in which they can be done, I
AND MRS. LEADBEATER.
375
too frequently defer the most pleasing of those duties,
and apply myself to those which afford me satisfaction
only because they are fulfilled. Hence it is that the
claims of friendship and kindness are not so soon
attended to as they would be if inclination and affection
were the judges.
How could you permit the thought to dwell with you
that your letters had fatigued me? I can most readily,
and do most cheerfully, affirm that they always give me
delight; they come, it always seems to me, from the
region of peace, love, and piety. I rejoice in reading
them. I form to myself your neighbourhood, and for a
time I dwell with you and make one of your pleasant
associates. When you relate the decease of your friends
and other domestic circumstances, you then give me
feelings which I wish to indulge; you then acknow-
ledge me as a friend, and I receive pleasure in being so
thought of. But when you write that “
you think you
make so free as to relate, &c.,” then should I be disposed
to quarrel with you, only that I recollect that I have
not written, and may have appeared like one either re-
served or indifferent. I therefore, dear lady, share the
blame with you-for blame I must insist on is yours,
and thus I claim and assent to mutual forgiveness.
Respecting your "Cottage Biography," I cheerfully
accept your kind intention; but as the actual present-
ing the book is attended with some trouble, permit me
to acquire it in the usual method, by an order on the
bookseller at Bath with whom I deal; and that copy I
will look upon as presented by you. The intention is
376
CORRESPONDENCE OF REV. GEO. CRABBE
the essential part of the act, and of that am I not sure?
Indeed I am.
Know you, my dear friend, that I was in Edinburgh
during the royal visit, and in the hospitable but busy
and overflowing mansion of Sir Walter Scott? On the
whole I am not sorry that I went at such a time, and yet
probably I lost more than I gained; however, I saw
much, was kindly treated, and was satisfied.
I have some not perfectly formed intention of publish-
ing three or four pieces of versification, but I want ex-
ertion. I have a tale related by a gentleman who writes
poetry himself, Mr. Henry Gally Knight. I would
have persuaded him to try his hand-or his head, if you
please-at his own tale; but he would not-and there-
fore I did. I cannot relate the story, but if printed, you
shall have it if I can send it. With it will be two or
three other attempts; one more essay at the description
of a kind of hallucination or insanity. With these are
some trifles which certain friends (Mrs. and Miss Hoare,
the wife and daughter of Samuel Hoare, the banker in
Lombard-street, whom I have known and loved—for it
is nearly the same thing-some four or five years), per-
mit me to think of publishing; and they are so jealous
of my credit, that what they permit I may allow myself
to believe has something of the poetic in it. I was
lately at Cromer, a place on the Norfolk coast, where
assembled the Buxtons, Lushingtons, Wilberforce,
Hoares, Gurneys, and other families of whom you may
have heard, for their benevolent exertions are not con-
fined, nor the report of them.
AND MRS. LEADBEATER.
377
ލ
may
Farewell, my dear friend. Write to me so that I
be assured that you retain nothing of the feeling which
dictated the words I object to, namely, "I think I may
make free, &c." How could you prevail upon yourself
so to write? The daughter of Mr. Burke's most intimate
friend!—she whom I met sitting with Edmund Burke!
-in his own apartment-who acknowledged and re-
newed the association so begun, aud continued so long;
and then at last to write, "I think I may make so free !"
Why, my dear lady, what a cold-hearted being must
you
take me for! I have a great mind to quarrel! But
it is not perhaps a good mind, and then we are at such
a distance! No, I cannot do that, but you will not re-
peat the "I thinks, &c." I am affectionately yours,
GEORGE CRABBE.
XV. FROM MRS. LEADBEATER.
Ballitore, 13th of Twelfth-month, 1822.
It was but this morning I received thine of 25th
November. It was most welcome, indeed; soothing
to vanity, and cordial to friendship. No, no; I shall
not repeat the reprobated words, "I think, &c." For-
give me, and also forgive a note lately sent to London,
if it reaches thee; and impute both to a remaining sense
of modesty which even the consciousness of thy notice
has not quite extinguished.
I do not recollect hearing thou wast in Edinburgh,
but I heard thou had been in York. What delight
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CORRESPONDENCE OF REV. GEO. CRABBE
must have been felt and given by the visit to the
Ariosto of the North?
I do not like Lord Byron so well as I used, since
saw the review of Don Juan in the Edinburgh Review.
That poem I hear is not fit to be read; even the trans-
ition from the pathetic to the ludicrous is painful, and
the mind revolts from such an association-how much
more must it revolt at any breach of decency! To
counteract the tendency of such works, come thou
forth with thy unsullied pen. I think I heard before
of Henry Gally Knight, but I rejoice that he left the
telling of his tale to thee. In the description of the
melancholy variety of insanity thou cannot but be
conscious how much thou excels. I believe authors
are not fair judges of their own works; but we who
open thy books with ever new delight must rejoice at
the prospect of another feast. What an assemblage at
Cromer-why you made it a very paradise! There are
some endeavours in Dublin to follow the example of
those excellent persons whose meat and drink it is to
do good.
Thy sincerely affectionate friend,
MARY LEADBEATER.
XVI.—FROM THE REV. GEORGE CRABEE.
Trowbridge, 7th April, 1823.
When you consider, my dear Mrs. Leadbeater, that
this correspondent of yours who now addresses you,
and always does it with pleasure, is verging closely to
AND MRS. LEADBEATER.
379
his threescore and ten-the generally assigned boundary
of human life; and add to this that he is visited by an
almost unrelenting pain, though not of the most ex-
cruciating kind, I am sure your kindness will make
large allowances for his want of punctuality. Indeed,
it is not want of thought, nor want of affection; but he
has at this time, in the absence of his son, more to do
than he finds health and spirits to effect, and that too
of worldly business, the grosser cares of life, such as he
was not quite fitted for in his best days, and which are
somewhat too much for him now. But enough of this,
and of all apology. You will make better for me than
I can for myself.
I have read your excellent little book with great
satisfaction: you are really a very useful people, and I
wonder to find a little detached portion of Ireland so
quiet, so virtuous, so christianized. The turbulency of
your country does not reach you. I am now acquainted
with Mary Casey, and Davy and Winifred Doyle, and
a number of hard-struggling, poor, good people, and see
them coming under the influence of your comfort and
assistance; and I think the examples must have much
influence where they are read and where they are known.
I have been compelled to attend so much to my infir-
mities and my pain, that I have gone on slowly with
my intended little book of scraps,-not the sweepings
of my study, however, for that would be treating my
friends ungratefully. If the publication be delayed, I
will give you some account of my Miscellany in some
future letter.
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CORRESPONDENCE OF REV. GEO. CRABBE
I know there are subjects which I ought not to omit,
but my paper is exhausted; and in honest truth my
poor head answers but languidly to my heart, for that
would prompt me to proceed; but after I have held my
pen a little while, there comes on a certain indication
that I must not indulge any longer.
Remember me kindly to all the dear good people
whom I know not but as they are yours and are with
you; and accept, dear lady, my best wishes, and be
assured that I am cordially and affectionately yours,
GEORGE CRABBE.
XVII. FROM MRS. LEADBEATER.
Madd
Ballitore, 10th of Sixth-month, 1823.
My much valued friend,
From thy last letter I fear thy health of body
does not keep pace with thy health of mind. How I
long to know that thou art better, that thy son has re-
turned, that thou art relieved from "the grosser cares
of life," that your domestic happiness flows unchecked
by them, and that the ever favouring muse sits beside
thee in thy study. I regret the delay of thy Miscellany,
but much more the cause of that delay. I long to hear
something about it.
Thy approbation of my little book is very gratifying
to me. The subjects are from different parts of our
island. Wherever those in a higher rank of life permit
themselves to mix with their poor neighbours, to take
AND MRS. LEADBEATER.
381
an interest in their concerns, and to enter into their
feelings, a tie of neighbourhood is formed beneficial to
both. And this is much the case in Ballitore, where
the higher ranks are by no means high, where old ser-
vants are planted and their families spring up, and an
indescribable link attaches them to the families of their
former masters. Nor is there much danger of our
young people being thus introduced into low and vul-
gar society, because they love the society at home, and
are too happy there to seek for amusement among a
rank lower than their own. I believe this is the case
in many other places, and I wish it were so universally.
I do not know what will become of our nation.-
Disturbances are extending over the country, and a vio-
lent party spirit prevails, to our sorrow and shame.
Poverty, to a degree which an Englishman can scarcely
imagine, causes a recklessness and a proneness to mis-
chief in those who perceive the cold indifference of their
superiors to their situation, and see themselves objects
of contempt rather than compassion. The Irish have
acute feelings and warm hearts, and amidst the clamours
raised against them, I persist in saying that a finer
country or a finer race of men is not on the surface of
the globe, if both were fairly cultivated. Dear friend,
raise thy moral strain; call for the gentle spirit of con-
ciliation it will subdue the existing evil more effec-
tually than all that the gallows, the bayonet, and exile
can do.
I am in trouble for having lost by death my kind
and excellent friend, the Bishop of Meath. Thus, as
382
CORRESPONDENCE OF REV. GEO. CRABBE
friends drop off, the shadows become deeper on our
path to the grave.
Thy work has not yet been announced in the papers.
I hope thou wilt follow it up with more, and have the
comfort of enjoying in this life thy honest fame. Be-
lieve me, when thou art removed to a better, even the
"sweepings of thy study" will be sought for and deemed
a treasure. Present my best wishes to thy son and
daughter. May I beg a line soon, to say thou art reco-
vered?
Thy obliged and affectionate friend,
MARY LEADBEATER.
XVIII. FROM MRS. LEADBEATER.
Richmond, near Limerick,
20th of Third-month, 1825.
I took the liberty of lately addressing thee, my kind
friend, on account of a young friend who is about to
publish a volume of poetry. Do I intrude too much
upon a friendship which it would grieve me to weaken
in the least degree by my indiscretion? I am very
solicitous for my friend that his genius should have its
due merit, and that the modest degree of fame to which
he aspires should be granted him. Had he lived and
written fifty years ago, I believe his name would have
ranked high amongst his poetical contemporaries. But
alas! there is now such an overpowering tide of song,
that, like the mighty Shannon which rolls in view of
this house, it absorbs the soul from contemplating the
AND MRS. LEADBEATER.
383
lesser rivers. Even my own dear Griese appears to my
imagination as a silver thread compared to this majestic
object; and yet the Griese is a beautiful river, mean-
dering through fertile fields as though loath to leave.
them; and there are poets who ought to be permitted
to shine, if the fastidious public would allow. I have
procured, from the public library in Limerick, Felicia
Hemans' "Tales," with which I was greatly charmed:
the book, however, appeared to have been little read.
No wonder; for, alas! in that library the works of
George Crabbe are not! I have dropped certain hints
here that the public may expect another treat from thy
pen. That I should have it in my power to drop such
hints may add to my consequence amongst strangers ;
yet, as I have often seen and detected such efforts for
consequence built on a sandy foundation, and suppose
others may have done so too, I must depend on the
revealer Time to establish my credit. I hope thou art
engaged for the instruction of the unborn as well as of
thy fellow-pilgrims through the vale of life. We shall
cordially greet the new-comer, and long for the an-
nouncement of such a gratification.
There are praiseworthy exertions being made for the
relief of the poor. Loans repaid by weekly instalments,
and clothes given, and paid for in like manner, com-
bine assistance with a sense of independence. I was
lately astonished to hear of a woman commencing the
business of a huckster (I believe you call it "chandler")
on a capital of ten pence. When her trade was ex-
tended by the loan of five shillings, she looked on her-
384
CORRESPONDENCE OF REV. GEO. CRABBE
self as a wealthy merchant, and I hear she is likely to
be successful in business. I shall long to hear from
thee for many reasons, especially to know whether thou
art in the enjoyment of health, which at our time of
life is so liable to serious interruptions.
Thy obliged and affectionate friend,
MARY LEADBEATER.
XIX. FROM THE REV. GEORGE CRABBE.
Trowbridge, 26th March, 1824.
I will write, my kind friend, and will no longer defer
thanks for your obliging remembrance of me. Your
letter dated the 2nd of this month was brought to me
this morning, but I have been in possession of unac-
knowledged favours, books and manuscripts, for which
I am thankful, and ought to have told you so; but I
was willing to wait, even for a long time, that I might
address you with some degree of cheerfulness as well
as gratitude. Nor have I waited altogether in vain,
since, though I am not in a state of sound health, nor
of one free from pain, still I have not that which has
been for the last two years my almost constant attend-
ant, pain in a considerable degree, and with it (or rather
in the intervals when it left me) lassitude and nervous
weakness, which render the more light and even the
more pleasant occupations troublesome, and require
exertion that I had not to bestow.
-
I have your "Cottage Biography," which I believe is
likely, if properly dispersed abroad, to do much good,
i
AND MRS. LEADBEATER.
385
and to excite in many a desire to imitate such exam-
ples, and to be patient, industrious, and persevering in
duties moral and religious. The letters of your father
and others of the family are, indeed, evidences of Chris-
tian feelings, and in many places discover a spirit as
much above the world and independent of it, as we can
hope to find while we are yet in it, and partakers of its
concerns. There are, I believe, what we call the pecu-
liarities of the profession; so that, without any other
intimation, we should know the religious opinions of
the writer: but this, with me, is neither an objection
to the work nor a diminution of its value. With re-
spect to our religious associations and fellowship, there
is much, I believe, that does not depend upon our own
will or our own conviction. We are born with such
convictions, and are led, guided, and governed by cir-
cumstances and situations over which the will has no
control.
You are very kindly partial to my verses, and so it
appears are your friends. That they are not injurious
is something, and that is what we all may avoid; and
certainly it is to be lamented that some of the more
powerful minds of the age have been too remiss in this
particular. To impress wrong sentiments and convey
profligate opinions by the help of genius is lamentable,
and the more we admire, the more we have to regret.
If
my health will allow me, I will endeavour to make
a few things I have by me more fit for the press. I
have some friends whom I consult, and having their
sanction I should proceed in my last trial-for so I
VOL. II.—25
*
386
CORRESPONDENCE OF REV. GEO. CRABBE
must consider it—with some alacrity. But so much of
the day is taken from me by my disorder, that little
remains in which I can engage in any employment that
requires thought, and this makes me quite uncertain of
the time, or even of the publication itself; but still the
poems are in that kind of state which will not demand
a great share of any man's attention, and my sons, if
they please, may do what I leave undone. And by this
I do not mean that I look upon myself as in that state
which we, not very properly, term dangerous, but at
my time of life it is not very likely that a great degree
of strength and activity of body or mind will be given.
My longest attempt I have called "The Deserted Wife,"
(or "Family") and I do not recollect that the principal
incident has been taken before. When I speak of this
as the longest, I mean as a single narrative, for there
are connected stories or rather incidents brought together
in this manner. It may be called, taken together, "A
Farewell and Return." I suppose a young man leaving
his native place, where he has hitherto resided, to go
into the world at large, and previously taking leave of
whomsoever he thinks right; and here I have oppor-
tunity to introduce as many characters as I conceive I
can best manage, these and their situations being briefly
told. My youth returns-a youth no more-
twenty years; and the interest of the poem, if there be
any, consists in the completion of the events, and the
then state of those persons to whom he had bidden
farewell. With these are some shorter "Exercises," for
so I think schoolboys call their attempts at composition,
AND MRS. LEADBEATER.
387
one of which, "The Flowers," has some originality-
what besides that, I will not venture to pronounce.
And now, my dear friend, I have given you such
account of myself and my poetical undertakings as I
am at present enabled to send you.
The loss of your
sister is no doubt felt by you, but felt as Christians
should feel the sorrow with the consolation; the
former daily diminishing, the latter permanent.
I must now bid you farewell, my dear lady. Accept
my hearty good wishes for yourself and all connected
with you. I oftentimes think of your peaceful Ballitore,
and admire some of your quiet, humble, exemplary
people. It would give me much pleasure to meet you
in this world where we yet linger; but if that cannot
be, I hope to hear from and of you frequently. Forgive
me for being of late a naughty correspondent, and make
a charitable allowance for my want of health. I have
written this by piece-meal, for my head will not permit
me to do much at one sitting. I hope you will be able
to read it, but it is far unlike your nice, correct writing,
which I am well pleased to see. All good things attend
you!
Your affectionate friend,
Gp
XX. FROM MRS. LEADBEATER.
GEORGE CRABBE.
Ballitore, 27th of Fifth-month, 1824.
I am indeed rejoiced at receiving my valued friend's
kind letter, which reached me before my departure from
the shores of the majestic Shannon. I am now restored
25*
388
CORRESPONDENCE OF REV GEO. CRABBE
to the banks of the humble Griese. I hope the return
of the summer months may invigorate thee, and shall
be glad to hear that this is the case. Ah! do not talk
of a
"last trial." I know the curtains of night are
falling around us who are declining into the vale of
years, but I hope it will not prevent the preparation
for a better world to endeavour to improve this. One
brilliant star has set, and Lord Byron's early death is
lamented even in this obscure village. Methinks the
new Lord Byron must feel awkward under the weight
of a title to which such an association of ideas belongs,
and which will probably draw comparisons as painful
to him, as the title of honourable was to a little boy
whose father was made a lord while the boy was at my
father's school; his schoolfellows so persecuted him
with the title of "his honour," that many a time and
oft the weeping child regretted the ennobling of his
family. I wish Lord Byron had never written anything
which tended to sully the vivid imagination of youth.
I was assured that his writings of this nature were far
from being so gross as those of many of our celebrated
poets; and parts of Don Juan, full of beauty, pathos,
and worthy feelings, were read to me. I would not
search the book to discover anything which might con-
tradict this assertion, but I know that a mind of delicacy
and sensibility turns with disgust from grossness; and
if licentious sentiments have been mingled with the
passages which I heard, such works must be highly
dangerous, especially considering the strong hold which
he had of the public mind.
AND MRS. LEADBEATER.
389
I am glad that thou wast pleased with my parents'
Memoirs;" and I am glad that I published them, it
seems to have so much revived their memory. The
sentence thou alludes to, beginning, "I do seem at
times as if home was not to be my constant place of
residence," is intended to express my father's devoted
attachment to his religious duties, and to the welfare of
that society to which he belonged, and which seemed to
supersede in his mind those domestic enjoyments which
were so dear to him. In a third series of "Cottage
Dialogues" which I have just finished, I have taken thy
hint of introducing warnings; but as the "Biography"
mentions names, I think it would not admit censure to
be so publicly introduced.
A life of that great man, Edmund Burke, has been
lately published, written by James Prior, who applied
to me for documents; and I gave him what information
I could, consistently with the engagement I was under
to the Bishop of Rochester. May I ask thee whether
the edition of Edmund Burke's works published by the
bishop contains his letters to my father and anecdotes
of the early part of his life.
I hear that my friend Thomas Wilkinson is pub-
lishing. It is what I often urged him to do, and
repeated my arguments after I saw Bernard Barton so
honoured by the Edinburgh Review, which seemed to
consider a Quaker poet as an extraordinary appearance
on the literary horizon. But cannot a Quaker have
taste and feeling? Hath not a Jew eyes? Hath not
"a Jew hands, organs, dimensions, senses, affections,
390
CORRESPONDENCE OF REV. GEO. CRABBE
(C
passions?" Are not these words of the great reader of
human nature applicable? This simple husbandman
[T. Wilkinson] is well known, and of consequence well
esteemed by persons of high rank. Lord Lonsdale, who
is his neighbour, can appreciate his judgment, genius,
and taste, and takes pleasure in introducing him to his
noble guests. Though we have corresponded for forty
years, we have never met, but I hear that from beneath
the homely guise of the Quaker and the farmer a
native politeness beams forth, evincing the truth of a
line of his own,
'Tis gentle manners makes the gentleman!
To hear from thee or of thy welfare gives general satis-
faction here; a satisfaction which I hope we may long
enjoy.
Affectionately and respectfully thy friend,
MARY LEADBEATER.
XXI. FROM MRS. LEADBEATER.
Ballitore, 1st of Tenth-month, 1824.
I wish I may not appear impertinent to my estimable
friend by enclosing a recipe for thy distressing ailment
-tic doloureux. I hope it may prove of as much
service to thee as to the young friend from whom I
had it. I need not say how grieved we are to think
of thy sufferings.
I pray thee live; ne do not with thy death
This lodge of love-the Muses' mansion-marre !
AND MRS. LEADBEATER.
391
The Society for the Education of the Poor have
employed me to write a little book for each of our
provinces, descriptive of scenery, ruins, remarkable
buildings, celebrated persons, customs, &c., with sug-
gestions for improvement. Perhaps I overrated my
abilities, yet I undertook the task: from my own ob-
servation and from a variety of books I have collected
materials, and as I can manage dialogue with most ease,
I have adopted that style. I have chosen two pedlars,
father and son; the former is leaving off business, and,
in order to introduce the young man into it, he travels
with him through the country. His observations, and
the different persons they meet with afford opportunity
for information, of which Pat, the son, is very desirous.
Sometimes I fear I shall fail in my attempt, but I
strive against that fear, believing that discouragement
is disqualification.
I hope thy family is well in all its branches, and
that thou hast enjoyed this glorious summer and golden.
harvest. That thou mayest long enjoy many such is
the wish of many others beside thy sincere and obliged
friend,
MARY LEADBEATER.
XXII.—FROM THE REV. GEORGE CRABBE.
Trowbridge, 29th October, 1824.
My dear friend,
I am fully sensible of your kindness; it is
surely very delightful to be made acquainted with the
good-will and wishes of our friends who are so far from
392
CORRESPONDENCE OF REV. GEO. CRABBE
us in
person and so near in their sympathy. Pain is
not to be loved for its own sake, but when it abides
with us, the attention of those who are dear to us
and their affectionate remembrance of us when at a dis-
tance, are both strength and comfort, as I have happily
experienced during the long visit of my late-if I can
dare to call it so-and painful disease. Accept my
sincere and hearty thanks for the prescription which
you have favoured me with.
You are right to have your new work in dialogues;
it is your way, and you manage it cleverly. I shall
make enquiry after the book, and hope you will have
no cowardly apprehensions respecting it. Remember-
though the argument tells in both ways, for and against
-but remember that you are known for your success
in this peculiar way, and therefore your new work will
be the more readily received, but the more rigidly
judged. That we must expect, though when my time
of trial will come, I am unable to form a steady opinion.
I must go to town, and there be stimulated by conversa-
tions on the subjects of authorship and all that relates
to the business of the press. I find too that I can
dedicate more time to this employment in London than
in this seat of business, this home of idleness, where
everybody comes at his own time, and, having driven
the mind from its purposes, leaves a man to waste no
small portion of it in miscellaneous reading, and other
amusements, such as nursing, and construing the in-
cipient meanings that come and go in the face of an
infant. My granddaughter and I begin to be com-
AND MRS. LEADBEATER.
393
panions. The seven months and the seventy years
accord very nicely, and will do so probably (the parties.
living) for a year or two to come, when the man becom-
ing weaker and the child stronger there will come an
inequality and disturb the friendship; though I have
known it subsist for a much longer time, and especially
when the more aged party has a body so strong and a
mind so weak that both are accommodated to the
weight and capacity of the younger. But I must not
proceed in this style, though you could give me some
lessons, I doubt not, upon the alliance between the aged
and the younger members of the same family.
There is a society in town called the Athenæum, to
which some friends have invited me, and vanity has
accepted the invitation. We admit all who have pub-
lished such works as the members judge sufficient for a
qualification, and with these some of our nobility, to
give us honour and encouragement. There are, I think,
about five hundred members; and as our first subscrip-
tion is ten guineas, and five annual, and as every mem-
ber sends his own works to the stock, we have already
a large collection. The place is No. 12, Waterloo * *
Here is a place of call for which some years since I
would have given a much larger sum; now it is not
greatly to be desired, but neither would I decline it.
Ladies we do not admit, which takes from our politeness
full as much as it adds to our prudence and salutary
fear. Adieu, my dear friend.
I am yours affectionately,
GEORGE CRABBE.
C
394
CORRESPONDENCE OF REV. GEO. CRABBE
P.S.-Did you know that one of Wordsworth's
principal speakers in his "Excursion" is a pedlar—a
sentimental, metaphysical pedlar? I hope yours is
more a man of this world, and this I say not without
respect for Mr. Wordsworth's feelings and genius and
opinions. There is much devotion in his mind, but it
mixed up with much that I can only comprehend here
and there, as the light gleams through the obscurity.
XXIII.-FROM MRS. LEADBEATER.
Ballitore, 19th of Eleventh-month, 1824.
On the 2nd instant my husband appeared at my bed-
side, and significantly smiling, asked me if I knew such
a place as Trowbridge, and produced thy welcome letter,
my kind friend. I hope the recipe will serve thee; if
the good-will and wishes of thy friends in Ballitore
could be effectual, thou should never know pain of any
kind.
Murray has declined publishing for my friend. Fifty
years ago such a poet as he might have stood some
chance,—or at least in the intermediate space between
Goldsmith's and another "Village;" but now there is too
much sunshine to permit a torch to obtain regard. Shine
on however, ye suns, and may your light never be ex-
tinguished while it beams on the path of virtue. I am
pleased that thou looks kindly on Wordsworth, whom
the reviewers have quoted largely to find fault with, and
have even lugged him in out of his place to give him a
flogging. I never met with his "Excursion," except in
AND MRS. LEADBEATER.
395
extracts, some of which I admired-but do not find him
always understandable. His address to my friend Thomas
Wilkinson's spade is a favourite with me. My pedlar
is a plain honest man, by no means metaphysical, and
no more sentimental than are many of our poor coun-
trymen.
I am recovering from an alarming illness, the shock
of which has at present enfeebled my body and mind
After suffering with an unwonted complaint, a cough,
I was suddenly seized with difficulty of breathing, and
in a few minutes
Ge
Thought ceased, and I was dead.
How often did that line strike on my memory, when,
after my restoration to life by bleeding while I was
insensible, I felt the danger I was delivered from for
the present. But "who slights such warnings may be
too secure." I have much to be grateful for to the
Giver of life. Health with little interruption to an
advanced period of age, family, friends, and neighbours,
whose cordial attentions, while they contribute to my
recovery, enhance the value of it, and a lengthening of
the uncertain span of life in order that I may be better
fitted to resign it.
All here join in sincere good wishes for thee and
thine, with thy affectionate and obliged friend,
MARY LEADBEATER.
396
CORRESPONDENCE OF REV. GEO. CRABBE
XXIV. FROM MRS. LEADBEATER.
G
Ballitore, 3rd of Fourth-month, 1825.
I wrote to thee, my esteemed friend, soon after the
receipt of thy truly welcome letter of "29th October."
I have since felt anxious on account of thy health. I
knew I could not expect to hear very soon from thyself,
because I hoped thy time was occupied in instructing
and delighting thy fellow-pilgrims along the path where
too few flowers such as thine are strewed.
We are greatly charmed with the poetry of Felicia
Hemans, and I think she must give general satisfac-
tion; as yet we have her poetry only in periodical
works, except one volume containing, besides other
poems "The Abencerrages." I hope thou hast met
with Thomas Wilkinson's "Tour to the British Moun-
tains." He was led into publishing almost unknown
to himself. Bernard Barton was so commended even in
the Edinburgh Review, and a Quaker poet so spoken of
as a rara avis in terris, that even I began to cock my
crest, and therefore copied my "Four Ages of Life” (an
unlucky title for me, as Cowper might be recollected
thereby) and a few of my very best, a small collection.
I sent it to Harvey and Darton, but they sent it back
to me.
Oh! you- no, I will not call you malignant—
stars, beaming with light and life, why will you not let
a little glowworm twinkle?
We have very lately read "The Excursion," and
AND MRS. LEADBEATER.
397
admire the poetry and descriptions, and the sentiments,
where we can gather the meaning, which we may con-
fess we found a little obscure at times; we may confess
it, since thou dost. It would ill become me and my
pedlar to be metaphysical. I have nearly finished my
account of the province of Leinster, and intend to sub-
mit it to my employers, humbly hoping for their
approbation, which if I obtain I can proceed with more
spirit and confidence.
The number of pages is pre-
scribed to me, and I work like a diligent journey woman.
I have been furnished with great variety of books and
information respecting my native island, and never
knew so much of it as now when I must be nearly leaving
it for a more fixed habitation. I mean, the other world.
Was not John King whom thou mentions in a letter
dated 1817, brother to him who accompanied Captain
Cook, and whom I saw in a dying state at Beaconsfield?
I suppose thou hast read Prior's "Life of Burke.”
On the whole I was much pleased with it, and the
anecdotes relating to his son's death were very pathetic.
I am sorry there was not a reconciliation between him
and his friend Fox-pity that politics should sever
personal friendship. I am certain that Edmund Burke
was generous and forgiving, warm and compassionate.
The same character is given of Fox. The good should
continue to love each other while they live (and, surely,
in the kingdom of love it will increase) however their
sentiments on moral things may differ.
My sincere regards attend thy children and theirs.
How extensive is the nature of friendship, overflowing
398
CORRESPONDENCE OF REV. GEO. CRABBE
to all the connexions and friends of those who have
won our esteem and love! Under the impression of
this feeling, accompanied by the grateful salutation of
my family, friends, and neighbours to thee and thine, I
bid thee affectionately farewell.
MARY LEADBEATER.
XXV. FROM THE REV. GEORGE CRABBE.
M
Trowbridge, 3rd February, 1826.
My dear friend,
I
The date of your letter would be reproof—
nay, reproach to me, had I not much to plead, and
especially to so gentle a spirit as yours, in extenuation,
I may perhaps say, in excuse for my apparent forget-
fulness-and forgetfulness in friendship is ingratitude;
but you will listen kindly to me, and make many
allowances for infirmities both of body and mind.
state this, my dear lady, as the leading circumstance in
my apology to you, and one or two others of my
friends, whose letters I found, after nearly four weeks'
confinement to my chamber, on my return to the room
where I now thank you for yours. The loss, if I may
so speak, of that time, caused a kind of hurry and
abridgment of my indulgences. I gained a habit of
postponing my duties to my friends, and made,-I own
the fault, my infirmities plead for my want of exer-
tion: but you will, I repeat, make allowance for me.
I was half frightened by the accumulation of papers,
which are even yet too formidable for my weakness.
AND MRS. LEADBEATER.
399
But enough of self! I am now-let me be thankful
—in a great measure free from pain, and have probably
that degree of health and even exertion which at my
age is a blessing rather to be desired than expected :
the allotted three-score and ten has past over me, and
I am in my seventy-second year !—thankful, I hope,
for much that I have, and among many other good
things for the friendship of some very estimable beings,
among whom I am pleased to reckon the lady to whom
I am writing.
There is a melancholy spirit discernible in your letter
when you mention your own Ballitore, and the friends
whom you have been deprived of. So it must be. We
must leave or be left; and happy, most happy, the spirit
that acquiesces in every deprivation, by an increase of
religious hope that the all-wise and beneficent Father
of his children does that which is good, is best for them.
All who reflect must acknowledge this, but they who
consider as Christians feel it: and what indeed is there
for us to rest upon but this?
So I find you, my dear madam, an assistant to Mr.
Bains. His "Amulet" is really an interesting and meri-
torious publication: I was too much indisposed to be a
contributor; in fact, I have written nothing of late, and
what I have are connected and not easily separable.
I will endeavour to make the various parts as correct
as I can, and whether I or my sons publish them is of
no other consequence than this, that they will make
more of them than I shall. Be an author's reputation
what it may, there is an additional value placed upon
400
CORRESPONDENCE OF REV. GEO, CRABBE
that work which must be the last. "Is this the love
of money?" do you ask? No, my friend; the love of
my sons and theirs.
It is kind in you to make enquiries respecting my
state of health. I am subject to pain, but I believe
that few persons of my age, who have been in trials
and under variations of circumstances and modes of
living, have more general health. Health of body—but
I would gladly know-and tell you if I did know—my
mind's health. I speak not in a religious view, but
simply of the natural and gradual decays which the
mind is subject to-loss of memory, deadness of fancy,
slowness of comprehension, and want of energy; and
yet these infirmities and deprivations come on with no
regular process, and occasionally the faculties seem
renewed. But still, like fine days in the approach of
winter, they shine amd depart, and give place to dark-
ness or at least to dimness. So it is, and it is right,
and mercifully right. We are not then torn from the
holds of life, but gently borne away.
I hope in your place of quiet, you and your neigh-
bours-you have made the word neighbour familiar
with me—are freed from the gloom and distress that
hang over places of trade and manufacturing like this.
Few wordly evils are more distressing then the bank-
ruptcy of a large and respectable establishment; so
many are affected, and some so much. I shall be glad
to receive a letter from you when you can afford me
one. I own that I am—not an ungrateful—but yet
not a ready correspondent. I love to receive, but am
AND MRS. LEADBEATER.
401
:
not always so mindful of the pleasure as I ought to be ;
but forgive me, my dear lady, and impute this rather
to the want of exertion than to that of feeling. I have
been reading-skipping, though, frequently as I read—
a strange work by, I am told, a strange young woman,
the daughter of Mr. Godwin and her who was Mrs.
Wolstoncraft. It is called "The Last Man"—it is
most melancholy, but sadly diffuse it wants the piety
that the subject would prompt in religious minds, and
I should not have troubled you with remarks on such
a work, only that it just now occupies me for its little
time, and may have done the same for you. Do you
read that strange mixture of good sense and folly, of
principle and prejudice, "Blackwood's Magazine”—
where every one who is not abused is flattered, and all
is entertaining that is not disgusting? I had some
knowledge of its assistants during my short visit to
Edinburgh, though of this I am not fully certain, but I
so conjectured. If I have wearied you, forgive me: I
wanted to prove to you that at least three sides of a
sheet of post paper might be filled. Remember me to
all your fireside circle, and do not yourself forget me,
but think of me as a friend.
Faithfully and affectionately yours,
GEORGE CRABBE.
VOL. II.-26
402
CORRESPONDENCE OF REV. GEO. CRABBE
XXVI.-FROM MRS. LEADBEATER.
Ballitore, 4th of Fourth-month, 1826.
My valued friend,
I am sorry that indisposition and its con-
sequences were the causes of thy silence, which I
imputed to the occupation of thy time in preparing
another feast for us. Do not deprive those of that
high gratification who cannot willingly resign it and
thyself. The pure and healthful muse who inspires
such strains is ever young, and I hope to hear that the
frame which she so often animates is invigorated by
her visits. Still I shall continue anxious to know that
this is the case, and that thou art less frequently and
less violently visited by thy distressing complaint.
I am an invalid, and have been so most of the winter.
Whether my disease is of the heart or of the chest
seems doubtful, but I can bear very little exertion.
Whether I shall revive with the reviving weather is a
matter of hope and doubt. However, I am gently dealt
with, having little bodily suffering, tolerable spirits,
and tender attentions.
The troubles in the commercial world have had little
effect on our quiet village. There is a street in Dublin,
lying very low, the name of which, Mullinahack, is
pronounced rather disdainfully by more exalted citizens.
However, its boast has been that in the time of plague
the bad air flew over it, and left the favoured spot in
AND MRS. LEADBEATER.
403
possession of humility and health. May we not apply
this to Ballitore ?
I never met with "The Last Man." We have been
much pleased with the works of Anna Letitia Barbauld.
Blackwood's Magazine has occasionally fallen in our
way. Books are now a luxury in which those whose
circumstances do not rise above mediocrity must in-
dulge sparingly. I was sorry to hear that Sir Walter
Scott had felt the pressure of the times, but his superior
spirit rising above them urges him to fresh exertions.
I was always of the mind that he was the author of the
novels.
Farewell, my excellent friend. Accept the best
wishes of thy friends here, who are not few.
Thy ever affectionate
MARY LEADBEATER.
Another brief letter to introduce a friend to Mr.
Crabbe was the last ever penned by his warm-hearted
friend and ardent admirer. It is dated "the 13th of
Sixth-month, 1826." She died on the 27th.
THE END.
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