Sample Chapter

PROOF

Contents

Acknowledgements vi Introduction vii Life and Work vii Education, Enlightenment, and the ‘Moral Tale’ ix

The Parent’s Assistant and Early Lessons xv Moral Tales and Popular Tales xxvii ‘The Good Aunt’ xxviii ‘The Grateful Negro’ xxxii Conclusion xxxviii

Note on the Texts xl Further Reading xli

‘The Little Dog Trusty; or, The Liar and the Boy of Truth’ 1 ‘The Purple Jar’ 6 ‘Rosamond’s Day of Misfortunes’ 12 ‘The Bracelets’ 24 ‘Lazy Lawrence’ 50 ‘Waste Not, Want Not; or, Two Strings to Your Bow’ 74 ‘The Good Aunt’ 100 ‘The Grateful Negro’ 175

Notes 195

v PROOF

Introduction

Life and Work

Maria Edgeworth (1768–1849) is widely regarded as a pioneer of children’s literature. Edgeworth was an innovative writer of nu- merous tales and novellas for children and young people, whose work was enjoyed by generations of juvenile readers from the late eighteenth until the early twentieth century. She was also the author of Practical Education (1798), an important manual on early education that broke away from the speculative approach of Jean-Jacques Rousseau and the class-specificity of John Locke (both of whom focused their efforts on the education of boys) to create an experimental, scientific pedagogy, based on observa- tions and anecdotes drawn from the experience of bringing up real girls and boys (eight of her half-siblings from her father’s third marriage).1 Edgeworth’s prolific writing for and about children was grounded in a sympathy for young people strengthened by her own turmoil in early childhood: she lost her mother when she was five years old, and her father (a virtual stranger to her) remar- ried within a few months. Her response to this emotional trauma was to behave so badly that she was sent away to school at seven, and did not return to live amongst the family until she was four- teen, having experienced her stepmother’s loss in addition to her first bereavement. From this point in 1782 until her death in 1849, Edgeworth spent most of her time at the family home in Edgeworthstown in Ireland, not far from Longford, where she became her father’s estate manager as well as taking a leading role in the education of the younger children (in total there were

1 John Locke, Some Thoughts Concerning Education (1693), focuses on the education of young gentlemen, although it contains much generally applicable advice that Edgeworth incorporates in her own educational theory; Jean-Jacques Rousseau’s Emile, or Education (1762) focuses mainly on the fictional boy of the title.

vii PROOF viii Selected Tales for Children and Young People twenty-one Edgeworth children by his four wives). Besides Practical Education and her tales for younger readers, Edgeworth wrote many novels and essays about Ireland, and was acknowl- edged by Sir Walter Scott as a pioneer of the national tale. These include perhaps her best-known work, Castle Rackrent (1800), as well as An Essay on Irish Bulls (1802), Ennui (1809), The Absentee (1812), and Ormond (1817). She wrote a number of witty, com- plex fictions about women as authors and independent beings, often subtly reflecting on women’s exclusion from public life, and on the politics of marriage and sexual liberation, including Letters for Literary Ladies (1795/1798), Belinda (1801), Leonora (1806), and Helen (1834). In addition, she wrote Whim for Whim (1798), a comic play focusing on political subversion in London and based on real events involving the French Queen and the parliamentary opposition; Professional Education (1809), about the preparation of young men for careers in the professions; Patronage (1814), a long, ambitious tale about two contrasting families; and Harrington (1817), which deals with anti-semitism in 1770s London. This is not an exhaustive catalogue: Edgeworth was a productive and wide-ranging thinker and writer. In her heyday (1800–14), she was the most commercially successful and prestigious novelist in Britain and Ireland: the £2,100 she earned from Patronage trebles the £700 Scott earned from Waverley (1814), which John Gibson Lockhart thought unprecedented, and was seven times what Jane Austen earned from Emma (1816). Edgeworth herself calculated that in all she made more than £11,000 from her writing. Her repu- tation has suffered since, in part because of her choice of form, the philosophic or moral tale, which became unfashionable as readers began to expect a more uniform naturalism. With the publication of the 12-volume Pickering & Chatto Novels and Selected Works of Maria Edgeworth (1999/2003), however, and distinguished edi- tions of individual works, as well as fresh insights in critical stud- ies, Edgeworth’s achievements as a writer and novelist of ideas are once again being recognized.2

2 Marilyn Butler’s Maria Edgeworth: A Literary Biography (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1972) remains the fullest treatment of Edgeworth’s life to date, and is the main source for this biographical sketch. PROOF

Introduction ix

The tales in this edition are drawn from four collections pub- lished over eight years. Four of the tales are from the first edi- tion of The Parent’s Assistant (1796) (‘The Little Dog Trusty’, ‘Lazy Lawrence’, ‘The Bracelets’, and ‘The Purple Jar’); one from the much expanded third edition of 1800 (‘Waste Not, Want Not’); one, ‘Rosamond’s Day of Misfortunes’, from Early Lessons (1801); one story, ‘The Good Aunt’, from Moral Tales (1801) and one, ‘The Grateful Negro’, from Popular Tales (1804).3 While ‘The Little Dog Trusty’, a simple and very short tale, was meant for children aged between three and eight, most of the stories in The Parent’s Assistant were intended for readers aged between eight and twelve, while Moral Tales was aimed at readers of around thirteen upwards. Popular Tales was presented as a work primarily for those not usu- ally considered ‘polite’, and therefore relatively unengaged by tales centring on people of wealth and fashion, but it was widely read by adolescents and young adults.

Education, Enlightenment, and the ‘Moral Tale’

The author of five major works for and about children between 1796 and 1804, Edgeworth is known for her realism, her technical virtuosity, her psychological acuteness in depicting the thoughts and feelings of children, her secularism, and her commitment to the increased diffusion of knowledge. Edgeworth began writing in the wake of Kant’s essay of 1784, ‘What is Enlightenment?’: his

3 There has been some discussion about the publication date of the first edition of The Parent’s Assistant, since it is advertised in the first edition of Edgeworth’s Letters for Literary Ladies (1795), but the likeliest date is 1796; the second edition appeared later the same year. See Butler, Maria Edgeworth, 159. Practical Education was nominally jointly authored by Maria Edgeworth and her father. Letter evidence, however, suggests that it was very largely her project, and mainly written by her: see Edgeworth Papers, National Library of Ireland MS 10,166/7/161, for instance, in which Richard Lovell Edgeworth refers to it as ‘Maria’s great work’, and hopes that it will ‘meet with as favourable a reception as her other works’ (letter dated 17 July 1797). Her father contributed the chapters on gram- mar and mechanics, and material for the chapters on geography, geology and arithmetic, and her brother, Lovell, offered material for the chapter on chemistry; but she is responsible for the rest. PROOF x Selected Tales for Children and Young People precept for this age of enlightenment was ‘Have courage to use your own reason’, and he envisaged the result as ‘man’s emergence from his self-incurred immaturity’.4 Echoing these ideas, James Keir, one of Maria Edgeworth’s father’s close friends and fellow Lunar thinker,5 celebrated the year 1789—the first year of the French Revolution—as distinguished for

the sudden and extensive impulse which the human mind has received, and which has extended its active influence to every object of human pursuits, political, commercial, and philo- sophical. The diffusion of a general knowledge, and of a taste for science, over all classes of men [ ... ] seems to be the charac- teristic feature of the present age.6

Chiming with Richard Price’s assertion, also in 1789, that the Revolution was the latest sign of a ‘diffusion of knowledge which has undermined superstition and error’, Keir linked the democra- tization of knowledge to social transformation: ‘In this age, the flame that passes over all kindles the sparks of genius wherever they happen to lurk.’ Knowledge was no longer to be ‘confined to public schools, or to particular classes of men’; nor was it to be confined to adults.7 Keir responded enthusiastically the same year to Sandford and Merton, a children’s book by another Edgeworth family friend, Thomas Day, describing it as ‘more likely to be of

4 Immanuel Kant, An Answer to the Question: “What is Enlightenment?”, trans. by H.B. Nisbet (1970; London: Penguin Books, 2009), 1. 5 Richard Lovell Edgeworth was a member of the Lunar Society of Birmingham in the late 1760s and 1770s, although the group retained a lasting influence on him as a thinker and inventor. Other prominent members of the Lunar circle included Erasmus Darwin, Josiah Wedgwood, James Watt, Joseph Priestley and James Keir, all of them committed to sci- ence, invention, and free enquiry. For an excellent account of the Society and its influence, see Jenny Uglow, The Lunar Men: The Friends who Made the Future, 1730–1810 (London: Faber & Faber, 2002). 6 Keir, The First Part of a Dictionary of Chemistry (Birmingham & London: Printed by Pearson & Rollason for Elliot & Kay, 1789), iii. 7 Keir, Dictionary of Chemistry, pp. iv, iii, cited by Mitzi Myers, ‘Aufklärung für Kinder? Maria Edgeworth and the Genders of Knowledge Genres’, Women’s Writing 2.2 (1995), 113–40: 113–14; Price, Discourse on the Love of our Country (London: T. Cadell, 1789), 41–2. PROOF

‘The Little Dog Trusty; or, The Liar and the Boy of Truth’

Very, very little children must not read this story, for they cannot understand it; they will not know what is meant by a liar, and a boy of truth. Very little children, when they are asked a question, say “yes,” and “no,” without knowing the meaning of the words; but you, children, who can speak quite plain, and who can tell, by words, what you wish for, and what you want, and what you have seen, and what you have done; you, who understand what is meant by the words “I have done it,” or “I have not,” you may read this story, for you can understand it.1 Frank and Robert were two little boys, about eight years old. Whenever Frank did any thing wrong, he always told his father and mother of it; and when any body asked him about any thing which he had done or said, he always told the truth; so that every body who knew him believed him: but nobody who knew his brother Robert believed a word which he said, because he used to tell lies. Whenever he did any thing wrong, he never ran to his father and mother to tell them of it; but when they asked him about it, he denied it, and said he had not done the things which he had done. The reason that Robert told lies was, because he was afraid of being punished for his faults if he confessed them. He was a coward, and could not bear the least pain; but Frank was a brave boy, and could bear to be punished for little faults; his mother never punished him so much for such little faults, as she did Robert for the lies which he told, and which she found out afterward.

1 PROOF

2 Selected Tales for Children and Young People

One evening these two little boys were playing together in a room by themselves; their mother was ironing in a room next to them, and their father was out at work in the fields, so there was nobody in the room with Robert and Frank: but there was the little dog Trusty lying by the fire-side. Trusty was a pretty playful little dog, and the children were very fond of him. “Come,” said Robert to Frank, “there is Trusty lying beside the fire asleep, let us go and waken him, and he will play with us.”— “Oh yes, do let us,” said Frank. So they both ran together towards the hearth to waken the dog. Now there was a basin of milk stand- ing upon the hearth, and the little boys did not see whereabouts it stood, for it was behind them; as they were both playing with the dog, they kicked it with their feet, and threw it down; and the basin broke, and all the milk ran out of it over the hearth, and about the floor; and when the little boys saw what they had done, they were very sorry and frightened, but they did not know what to do: they stood for some time looking at the broken basin and the milk, without speaking. Robert spoke first. “So we shall have no milk for supper tonight,” said he, and he sighed— “No milk for supper!— why not,” said Frank, “is there no more milk in the house?” “Yes, but we shall have none of it; for do not you remember last Monday, when we threw down the milk, my mother said we were very careless, and that the next time we did so, we should have no more,—and this is the next time; so we shall have no milk for supper to-night.” “Well then,” says Frank, “we must do without it, that’s all; we will take more care another time; there’s no great harm done; come, come, let us run and tell my mother. You know she bid us always tell her directly when we broke any thing; so come,” said he, taking hold of his brother’s hand. “I will come just now,” said Robert, “don’t be in such a hurry, Frank; can’t you stay a minute.” So Frank stayed. And then he said, “Come now, Robert;” but Robert answered, “Stay a little longer, for I dare not go yet—I am afraid.” Little boys, I advise you, never be afraid to tell the truth; never say, “stay a minute,” and “stay a little longer,” but run directly and tell of what you have done that is wrong. The longer you stay, the PROOF

‘The Little Dog Trusty; or, The Liar and the Boy of Truth’ 3 more afraid you will grow; till at last, perhaps, you will not dare to tell the truth at all.—Hear what happened to Robert. The longer he stayed, the more unwilling he was to go to tell his mother that he had thrown the milk down; and at last he pulled his hand away from his brother, and cried, “I won’t go at all; Frank, can’t you go by yourself?” “Yes,” said Frank, “so I will; I am not afraid to go by myself; I only waited for you out of good nature, because I thought you would like to tell the truth too.” “Yes, so I will; I mean to tell the truth when I am asked; but I need not go now, when I do not choose it:—and why need you go either?—can’t you wait here?—surely my mother can see the milk when she comes in.” Frank said no more, but as his brother would not come he went without him. He opened the door of the next room, where he thought his mother was ironing, but when he went in, he saw that she was gone, and he thought she was gone to fetch some more clothes to iron. The clothes he knew were hanging on the bushes in the garden; so he thought his mother was gone there, and he ran after her to tell what had happened. Now whilst Frank was gone, Robert was left in the room by himself; and all the while he was alone he was thinking of some excuses to make to his mother: and he was sorry that Frank was gone to tell her the truth. He said to himself, “If Frank and I both were to say, that we did not throw down the basin, she would believe us, and we should have milk for supper; I am very sorry Frank would go to tell her about it,” Just as he said this to him- self he heard his mother coming down stairs. “Oh ho!” said he to himself, “then my mother has not been out in the garden, and so Frank has not met her, and cannot have told her; so now I may say what I please.” Then this naughty cowardly boy determined to tell his mother a lie. She came into the room, but when she saw the broken basin, and the milk spilled, she stopped short, and cried— “So, so!—what a piece of work is here! Who did this, Robert?” “I don’t know ma’am,” said Robert, in a very low voice. “You don’t know, Robert!—tell me the truth—I shall not be angry with you, child—you will only lose the milk at supper; and as for the basin, I would rather have you break all the basins I PROOF

4 Selected Tales for Children and Young People have, than tell me one lie.—So don’t tell me a lie.—I ask you, Robert, did you break the basin?” “No ma’am, I did not,” said Robert, and he coloured as red as fire. “Then where’s Frank? Did he do it?” “No, mother, he did not,” said Robert; for he was in hopes, that when Frank came in he should persuade him to say, that he did not do it. “How do you know,” said his mother, “that Frank did not do it?” “Because—because—because ma’am,” said Robert, hesitating, as liars do for an excuse; “because I was in the room all the time, and I did not see him do it.” “Then how was the basin thrown down? If you have been in the room all the time you can tell.” Then Robert, going on from one lie to another, answered— “I suppose the dog must have done it.”—“Did you see him do it?” says his mother. “Yes,” said this wicked boy. “Trusty, Trusty,” said his mother, turning round; and Trusty, who was lying before the fire, drying his legs, which were wet with the milk, jumped up and came to her. Then she said, “Fie! fie! Trusty !” and she pointed to the milk. “Get me a switch out of the garden, Robert; Trusty must be beat for this.” Robert ran for the switch, and in the gar- den he met his brother; he stopped him, and told him, in a great hurry, all that he had said to his mother; and he begged of him not to tell the truth, but to say the same as he had done. “No, I will not tell a lie,” said Frank. “What! and is Trusty to be beat!—he did not throw down the milk, and he shan’t be beat for it—let me go to my mother.” They both ran toward the house—Robert got first home, and he locked the house door, that Frank might not come in. He gave the switch to his mother. Poor Trusty! he looked up, as the switch was lifted over his head, but he could not speak to tell the truth; just as the blow was falling upon him, Frank’s voice was heard at the window.—“Stop, stop! dear mother, stop!” cried he, as loud as ever he could call, “Trusty did not do it—let me in—I and Robert did it;—but do not beat Robert.” “Let us in, let us in,” cried another voice, which Robert knew to be his father’s, “I am just come from work, and here’s the door PROOF

Notes

1. Editions published in and after 1803 omit these first two paragraphs. 2. Editions published in and after 1803 omit the details of the explan- ation given by the mother. 3. Adaptation of first two lines of an English folk ballad, ‘The Banks of the Sweet Primroses’. 4. A simple portable device to facilitate drawing in perspective is described, with two diagrams showing the machine, in the chapter on mechanics in Edgeworth’s Practical Education, 2 vols (London: J. Johnson, 1798), II, 462. 5. Cecilia may be mischievously named after the heroine of Fanny Burney’s novel of that name, published in 1782 to great acclaim; Edgeworth admired Burney’s Evelina, but her father forbade her to read Cecilia when it first appeared, fearing that it would divert her talents into novel-writing rather than the serious work he hoped she would produce. Edgeworth reused the name for a leading character in her last fiction for adults, Helen (1834): this later Cecilia is also im- petuous and misled by her desire to please others. Leonora is, Marilyn Butler conjectures, based upon Edgeworth’s own school friend, Fanny Robinson: but Butler suggests that she is really a cipher for ‘the woman Maria wanted to be, and felt she was not—secure, strong in herself, and (emotionally most essential of all) greatly valued by the tight- knit domestic circle round her. By the time Maria was a schoolgirl, [ ... ] that dominant characteristic of hers, what her father was to call her “inordinate desire to be beloved”, had already been born out of her sensation that she was not loved enough’ (Marilyn Butler, Maria Edgeworth: A Literary Biography (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1972), 150, 154). It seems probable that Edgeworth was also thinking of her first stepmother, Honora, in the naming of the schoolgirl in ‘The Bracelets’ and the heroine of her later novel, Leonora (1806). Honora, who was dignified, impressively intelligent and scrupulously just, inspired last- ing respect in Maria Edgeworth and was idealized by Richard Lovell Edgeworth: the daughter he loved most uncomplicatedly was named after her. 6. Mandarin: a type of ornament popular in the late eighteenth cen- tury, typically made of porcelain, representing a seated figure in trad- itional Chinese costume, with a head that continues to nod after being shaken. 7. Threading-the-needle: a game in which a number of children join hands and the player at the end of the string passes between the last two at the other end, the rest following.

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