The Life and Letters of Maria Edgeworth, vol 2 | Page 7

grandmother, ending regularly with "Je suis,
mademoiselle, avec les sentimens qui font le désespoir de ma vie," etc.
M. de Bonstettin--Gray the poet's friend--told me that in Sweden, about
thirty years ago, he saw potatoes in the corner of a gentleman's garden
as a curiosity. "They tell me, sir," said the gentleman, "that in some
countries they eat the roots of this plant!" Now they are cultivated there,
and the people have become fond of them.
* * * * *
With M. de Staël and Madame de Broglie Miss Edgeworth was
particularly happy. It had been reported that Madame de Staël had said

of Maria's writings "que Miss Edgeworth était digne de l'enthousiasme,
mais qu'elle s'est perdue dans la triste utilité." "Ma mère n'a jamais dit
ça," Madame de Broglie indignantly declared, "elle était incapable!"
She saw, indeed, the enthusiastic admiration which Maria felt for her
mother's genius, and she was gratified by the regard and esteem which
Maria showed for her and her brother, and the sympathy she expressed
in their affection for each other, and in their kindness to their little
Rocca brother.
* * * * *
MARIA to MISS HONORA EDGEWORTH.
LYONS, HOTEL DU NORD, _Oct. 22, 1820_.
Lyons! is it possible that I am really at Lyons, of which I have heard
my father speak so much? Lyons! where his active spirit once reigned,
and where now scarce a trace, a memory of him remains. The Perraches
all gone, Carpentiers no more to be heard of, Bons a name unknown;
De la Verpilliere--one descendant has a fine house here, but he is in the
country.
The look of the town and the fine facades of the principal buildings,
and the Place de Bellecour, were the more melancholy to me from
knowing them so well in the prints in the great portfolio, with such a
radiance thrown over them by his descriptions. I hear his voice saying,
La Place de Bellecour and l'Hotel de Ville--these remain after all the
horrors of the Revolution--but human creatures, the best, the ablest, the
most full of life and gaiety, all passed away.
It is a relief to my mind to pour out all this to you. I do not repent
having come to Lyons; I should not have forgiven myself if I had not.
I have been writing to dear Mrs. Moilliet--nothing could exceed her
kindness and Mr. Moilliet's. Dumont was excessively touched at
parting with us, and gave Fanny and Harriet La Fontaine and Gresset,
and to me a map of the lake--of the tour we took so happily together.

To MRS. RUXTON.
PARIS, _Nov. 1820_.
Never lose another night's sleep, or another moment's thought on the
Quarterly Review [Footnote: An article on Maria Edgeworth's Memoirs
of her Father, full of doubt, ridicule, misrepresentation, and acrimony.
Miss Edgeworth never read this Review till 1835, when she was
induced to do so by a letter from Mr. Peabody alluding to it. It was then
powerless to give her pain, for its anonymous falsehoods had long
fallen into oblivion.]--I have never read and never will read it.
I write this merely to tell you that I have at last had the pleasure of
seeing Madame la Comtesse de Vaudreuil, the daughter of your friend;
she is an exceedingly pleasing woman, of high fashion, with the
remains of great beauty, courteous and kind to us beyond all
expectation. She had but a few days in Paris, and she made out two for
us; she took us to the Conciergerie to see, by lamp-light, the dungeons
where the poor Queen and Madame Elizabeth were confined, now
fitted up as little chapels. In the Queen's is an altar inscribed with her
letter to the King, expressing forgiveness of her enemies. Tears
streamed from the eyes of the young Countess de Vaudreuil, the
daughter-in-law, as she looked at this altar, and the place where the
Queen's bed was. Who do you think accompanied us to this place?
Lady Beauchamp, Lady Longford's mother, a great friend of Madame
de Vaudreuil's, with whom we dined the next day, and who had
procured for us the Duc de Choiseul's box at the Théâtre Français,
when the house was to be uncommonly crowded to see Mademoiselle
Duchenois in Athalie "avec tous les choeurs," and a most striking
spectacle it was! I had never seen Mademoiselle Duchenois to
perfection before.
MRS. MARCET to MARIA EDGEWORTH.
MALAGNY, _Nov. 15, 1820_.
I cannot make up my mind, my dear friend, to take my departure
[Footnote: Mrs. Marcet was just setting out for Italy.] for a still more

distant country without again bidding you adieu. I have hesitated for
some time past, "Shall I or shall I not write to Miss Edgeworth?" for I
felt that I could not write without touching on an