The Life and Letters of Maria Edgeworth, Volume 1Edgeworth, Maria
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The Life and Letters of Maria Edgeworth, Volume 1
Edgeworth, Maria
Edgeworth, Maria, 1768-1849; Novelists, Irish -- 19th century -- Biography
Who comes next? Kosciusko, [Footnote: The Polish patriot and leader,
1756-1817.] cured of his wounds, simple in his manners, like all truly
great men. We met him at the house of a Polish Countess, whose name I
cannot spell.
Who comes next? M. de Leuze, who translated the _Botanic Garden_ as well
as it could be translated into Fénelon prose; and M. and Madame de
Vindé, who have a superb gallery of paintings, and the best concerts in
Paris, and a library of eighteen thousand volumes well counted and well
arranged; and what charms me more than either the books or the pictures,
a little grand-daughter of three years old, very like my sweet Fanny,
with stockings exactly the same as those Aunt Mary knitted for her, and
listing shoes precisely like what Fanny used to wear: she sat on my
knee, and caressed me with her soft, warm little hands, and looked at me
with her smiling intelligent eyes.
_Dec._ 3. Here I am at the brink of the last page, and I have said
nothing of the Apollo, the Invalides, or Les Sourds et Muets. What shall
I do? I cannot speak of everything at once, and when I speak to you so
many things crowd upon my mind.
Here, my dear aunt, I was interrupted in a manner that will surprise you
as much as it surprised me, by the coming in of Monsieur Edelcrantz, a
Swedish gentleman, whom we have mentioned to you, of superior
understanding and mild manners: he came to offer me his hand and heart!!
My heart, you may suppose, cannot return his attachment, for I have seen
but very little of him, and have not had time to have formed any
judgment, except that I think nothing could tempt me to leave my own
dear friends and my own country to live in Sweden.
My dearest aunt, I write to you the first moment, as next to my father
and mother no person in the world feels so much interest in all that
concerns me. I need not tell you that my father,
Such in this moment as in all the past,
is kindness itself; kindness far superior to what I deserve, but I am
grateful for it.
_To_ MISS SOPHY RUXTON.
PARIS, RUE DE LILLE, No. 525,
_Dec. 8, 1802._
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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