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EMMA DARWIN
A CENTURY OF FAMILY LETTERS
1792-1896
VOLUME I
CHAPTER IV
MAER
Maer Hall—The children of Josiah Wedgwood—A picnic at Trentham—Emma Caldwell's picture of life at Maer—Emma Darwin's comment seventy-two years later—Emma's childhood.
Maer Hall. From a pencil sketch by Charlotte Wedgwood (Mrs C. Langton) in possession of Mrs Godfrey Wedgwood of Idlerocks, Staffordshire
WE now leave the earlier life in which the group of Allens are the chief figures, and take up the story of Emma Wedgwood. Josiah Wedgwood of Maer had nine children, of whom eight lived to grow up. Emma was the youngest child, born May 2nd, 1808.
Maer Hall, where Emma spent her life till she married, was so deeply beloved by the whole group that their children even have inherited a kind of sacred feeling about it. In the time of the Wedgwoods it was a large, unpretending stone house, Elizabethan in date; on the garden side there was an old and picturesque porch with its pillars left unaltered; but the latticed windows had been sashed according to the taste of the time. It stood on a slope leading down to a small lake or mere, from which it took its name. This mere was fed by springs so that the water was clear. "Capability Brown," the well-known landscape gardener of those days, had turned its marshy end, next the house, into a kind of fish's tail, as my mother used to describe it. There was a boat on the pool, as they always called it, which was a great joy to the young people and children, and there was good skating in winter. Round it there was a delightful up-and-down sandy walk a mile in length, diversified and well wooded, which made one of the charms of the place. The garden, bright and gay with old-fashioned flowers, lay between the house and the pool, and the little church was just outside the domain. My father used to say that our mother only cared for flowers which had grown at Maer. There was a great deal of wild heath and wood around, and the country is, even now, as rural as ever and quite unspoiled by mines and manufactories. My father wrote in his Autobiography: "In the summer the whole family used often to sit on the steps of the old portico with the flower-garden in front, and with the steep wooded bank opposite the house reflected in the lake, with here and there a fish rising or a water bird paddling about. Nothing has left a more vivid picture on my mind than these evenings at Maer." I can remember his description of these enchanting evenings, and his happy look and sigh of reminiscence, as he recalled the past, and told how nothing else was ever like it—what good talk there was, not the mere personal gossip which such family talk is apt to become, and how delightfully Charlotte sang, the elder cousin for whom he had a boy's adoration.
The household at Maer was kept up without any display, but there was every comfort that an ordinary squire's household would have at the time. The garden was the special province of Elizabeth, the eldest daughter. A number of horses were kept, chiefly for riding. These were turned out to grass in the summer and taken up as they were wanted, but apparently they had no pair of carriage horses in the earlier time, and when the large carriage was used posters were hired.
Maer Hall was the centre of attraction to different members of the family, who at one time or another settled in the neighbourhood. Parkfields, where Mrs Wedgwood senior and her daughters Kitty and Sarah lived, was not far off, and as the sons from Maer married, all but one came to live near their father's home.
Bessy's hospitality kept Maer constantly full of relations and old friends. My father speaks in one of his letters to my mother before they were married, of his fear of her finding their quiet evenings dull, after living all her life with such large and agreeable parties "as only Maer can boast of." Besides these gatherings of relations and friends, their society chiefly consisted in frequent intercourse with two or three families within easy riding distance, although they mixed in the county society and went to the Race balls and other county functions. Mr Tollet of Betley Hall, a liberal squire and experimenter in agriculture, and his daughters, a group of clever, spirited girls, were among their best friends. Betley was about eight miles from Maer, and my mother told me she felt as if she knew every stock and stone on the road. The Mount, Shrewsbury, the home of Dr Robert Darwin and his wife Susannah, Jos's sister, was a long day's ride of some twenty miles, but the visits between the two houses were frequent. There was a warm friendship between Dr Darwin and his brother-in-law. Mrs Darwin died in 1817, and is seldom mentioned. Emma Allen wrote, "Mrs Darwin remains here a few days longer. I like her exceedingly but not her children [aged 5 and 3], who are more rude and disagreeable than any I ever knew, and yet they are better here than they were at Shrewsbury." The Caldwells of Linley Wood also appear continually on the scene. Anne Caldwell, the eldest daughter, became well known in later life as the author of Two Old Men's Tales, and other novels.
The picture of Maer given in the old letters makes one feel that few homes could have been happier, or better suited to develop a fine character. There was no idleness, but no bustle or hurry, and an atmosphere of peace and hospitality. The family were all readers, and they all loved the place and its beauty.
The following is an account by Anne Caldwell1 of one of Sydney Smith's visits to Maer: "It was his custom to stroll about the room in which we were sitting, and which was lined with books, taking down one lot after another, sometimes reading or quoting aloud, sometimes discussing any subject that arose. He took down a sort of record of those men who had lived to a great age. 'A record of little value," said Mrs. Wedgwood, 'as to live longer than other people can hardly be the desire of any one." 'It is not so much the longevity," he answered, 'that is valued as the original build and constitution, that condition of health and habit of life which not only leads to longevity, but makes life enjoyable while it lasts, that renders the subject interesting and worth enquiry." 'You must preach, Mr Smith," said Mrs Wedgwood (it was Saturday). 'We must go and try the pulpit then," said he, 'to see if it suits me." So to the church we walked, and how he amused us by his droll way of 'trying the pulpit" as he called it."
1 A Group of Englishmen, by Miss Meteyard, p. 388.
The family were zealous in all efforts to help their poorer neighbours, Elizabeth especially being often spoken of as overworking herself by all she did for them. Emma Allen, after saying that she should not be afraid of taking charge of her other nieces and making them happy, wrote to Bessy (July 19, 1814), "About a child of yours I could not have the same feelings, because, dearly as I love them, I should dread to take them from the home they are blessed with, happy creatures!"
When they were contemplating moving to Etruria from motives of economy, Elizabeth wrote to her father (Sept. 1812): "Mamma does not at all, I think, let the thoughts of leaving Maer harass her; she is in excellent spirits; and as for us, you and mamma make us so happy that where we live will signify very little to us."
The children of Josiah Wedgwood inherited their share of the good qualities of their father and mother, and especially a remarkable sincerity of character. Elizabeth Wedgwood, the eldest child, was one of the most unselfish women that ever lived. She suffered from a curvature of the spine,1 but in spite of this disability was vigorous, healthy, and full of energy till extreme old age. She had many tastes and pursuits, but was above all active in works of kindness and help.
1 I have been told that one remedy tried was whipping her back with nettles.
Josiah, the eldest son, often called Joe to distinguish him from his father, was considered to be like his uncle Tom in face. He had wide general knowledge, but he inherited his father's silence and gravity. His mother wrote (Ap. 11, 1821) of his behaviour at a London dinner-party: "My Joe was looking very genteel and complacent, but I heard no sound." He lived at Maer and was his father's partner, riding in regularly to the Pottery Works at Etruria. He was not a keen sportsman, but was a bold rider to hounds.
Jessie Allen wrote in 1815, when he was abroad with their party: "I trust you will have no occasion for any uneasiness in your Joe, he seems quite recovered. You should not yourself watch him with more anxious tenderness than I will on the journey, and I think an Italian winter will be of great service to him. That he has not a strong constitution is the only drawback you have to the most entire satisfaction in him. Not only I, but John and Mrs Allen, and all our party, think him matchless as a young man; such good taste, natural gentility, grace, good sense, and sweet temper we have never before seen combined in one person. He reminds us exceedingly of his uncle Tom, without his fastidiousness. His manners I think are quite charming, and so does Lady Davy. Mackintosh says he sees no fault in him whatever but being too spiritless for youth."
To this letter his mother replied [Oct. 30, 1815]: "I cannot express how gratifying it was to me to read the character you give of my Joe, and so beautifully drawn too. Jos and I read it together, and sat up after the rest had gone to read it again, and I felt that it was one of the sweet drops of life to listen to the praise of one's children when it is given honestly. I am the more pleased at your testimony to his modesty and good manners, because feeling no doubt as to his good sense and good nature I was more diffident as to the embellishments of manner, not thinking myself a fair judge, and having always been afraid of marring instead of mending by any admonition on that subject, though feeling all the while that it is the manners that excite affection. I trust my Hal will benefit in that way by the change from the schoolboy society he has been used to, to that of men, and that you will find him attentive to any suggestions from either of you, and that you will, for love of me, take the irksome task of telling him of anything you think wrong, or anything that he might mend."
Charlotte, the next sister (afterwards Mrs Charles Langton), had beauty and charm. She painted and drew, and made many water-colour sketches and pencil drawings after the manner of Copley Fielding, of whom she took lessons. She had a beautiful voice of great flexibility, and my mother told me how charming her natural shake was. She and Elizabeth, who had a high clear soprano, sang duets together with great effect. "I had a profusion of compliments upon the girls" singing, enough to last them for the next twelvemonths at least," Bessy wrote from Paris (June 1, 1818).
The three younger brothers, Harry, Frank, and Hensleigh, all had good abilities. Harry, who became a barrister, had wit and power of expression and a gift for drawing, though it was not cultivated. He was a particular favourite in the Darwin household at Shrewsbury, and could take any liberty with his uncle the doctor. One day on coming back from a sale Harry told him that there was something in the catalogue which he decidedly ought to buy. "Tut, tut," said the doctor, "but what is it?" "Why a 'ditto to correspond," for you know how much you hate writing letters."
One or two of his epigrams still live at Cambridge. The tradition is that Mr Sheepshanks of Jesus College posted the following notice: "The classical lectures for the current term will be on the Satyr of Juvenal". Harry put up the following underneath:1
"The Satyr of old was a Satyr of note,
With the head of a Man and the legs of a Goat;
But the Satyr of Jesus does these far surpass
With the Shanks of a Sheep and the head of an Ass."
1 Mr Tuckwell in his Recollections of Oxford has
erroneously attributed this skit to Dr Nares, Oxford Professor of
Modern History. On Shelford, an unpopular examiner, Harry
wrote:
"They say that men pluck geese in Shelford Fen,
But here we see a Shelford goose pluck men."
He published a delightful child's story illustrated by himself, The Bird-Talisman. In her old age my mother had it reprinted so as to preserve it for the family, where it is appreciated by his great nephews and nieces.
Frank worked steadily at the Potteries till quite old age. He was as absolutely unselfoccupied as man could be, and lived an admirable life—hard-working and almost stoical in its simplicity.
Hensleigh was a high Wrangler and Fellow of Christ's. He was well known as a philologist and was author of the Dictionary of English Etymology and other works.
At the end of this large family of brothers and sisters came two little girls, Frances, born 1806, and Emma, born May 2nd, 1808, when her mother was 44 years old. The two children formed an inseparable pair, and were the pets of the family. The "Doveleys" is the name by which they are known in many of the letters. Their mother wrote from Cresselly, 25 Aug., 1812, "I am glad that the Doveleys are good and agreeable. Theirs are the only pretensions I like." At the date of the following letter Fanny and Emma were seven and five years old.
Mrs Josiah Wedgwood to her sister Emma Allen.
ETRURIA, July 15th, 1813.
.... I am so deeply in debt to you all, dear girls, for your agreeable letters and pleasant details of all you have done, are doing, and are going to do, that I don't know where to begin, but I have made a beginning more to shew my good will, than with any expectation of finishing my letter for to-night's post, being now waiting for the carriage to take myself and my eight children to pay a visit to the most amiable Griffin,1 who was rash enough last Sunday to ask us and even to insist upon having the Doveleys of the party. We are now going to set out as many as we can cram in the Gimcrack, and the boys upon the ponies.
1 A Mr. Griffinhoof, living near Trentham Park.
Friday.—We went according to promise, and were particularly lucky in having the finest day that ever was seen. Joe was treacherous and did not go, but I went with my eight children. It always makes a scheme so flat when any of the guests secede that I did not go with any very lively expectations, and these were still further quelled when I saw our party. The Miss Griffins, utter strangers, and Mr Ralph Sneyd of Keel, who I thought would be much too fine to bear the company of an old mother and eight children. However I must do the latter the justice to say, he bore it very well, and he seemed to partake so largely of the good humour of our host, that the party went off extremely well. The two sisters were conversable, and rather agreeable; we sat down to an excellent cold dinner at two, and a dessert of the best grapes and a profusion of strawberries and cream which were much relished. Soon after dinner we went into Trentham Park, where we found a very good boat moored, into which we all went, and Mr Sneyd and R. Griffin rowed us while Joe steered. We amused ourselves on the water and in the grounds till it was time to return to tea. We had a good deal of literary conversation, as Mr Sneyd has a very pretty smattering of literary topics and a good deal of taste, though a little affected, and Griffin has great aspirations after the same. We made some attempts at singing, which was the worst part of the entertainment, as my girls are so stupid they cannot sing without music, and after making two or three abortive attempts were forced to give it up. The two little girls were in silent enjoyment, very grave, and very demure all day, but they were very happy while running about the park. We came away about 8 o'clock, Harry and Frank riding the ponies driving and tearing all the way, and the rest of us in the landelet.
We spent Sunday at Maer, taking cold meat, and I never saw it look so pretty. There was a profusion of roses in blow and there was a wildness about it that I thought was very delightful. We drank tea with Mrs Harding, which I had rather not have done as I wanted to spend more time at Maer, but she was so pressing we could not resist. We liked our Sunday so much that we think of going again next Sunday.
Jessie Allen, commenting on this account, sends "a very tender kiss to the Doveleys, the tenderest to Emma, but do not tell her so. How much I should have liked to see her little prim face on the water."
Fanny Allen wrote to her niece Elizabeth Wedgwood (Oct. 11, 1813): "Sarah gives an excellent report of the poetical taste of little Emma. I hope this will grow on her. Is she not the first of you that has read through Paradise Lost? You must not let this be a reproach to you any longer now Emma has set you the example." My mother told us how when she was only five, she began Paradise Lost, but soon asked her mother to finish it for her, and how nice it was of her mother not to refuse.
Little more is to be gleaned of her early childhood. In January, 1816, when she was nearly eight years old, her mother told how the two little girls were to pay a visit alone, "at which they are much pleased, and the more so because they are to go by themselves as we can't spare Mary, and they bridle not a little at the idea of dressing and doing for themselves." Sarah Wedgwood wrote to Jessie Allen (Feb. 26, 1817): "Little Emma continues to be the sweetest little girl in the world. The whooping-cough makes her more sweet and gentle than ever. I find that she retains that first place that she has ever held in that part of my affections which are devoted to children. As Mr Wordsworth divides his poems into 'poems referring to the period of childhood," ditto to old age, etc., why may not I my affections?"
A pleasant account of the Maer family life three years later, when Emma was eleven years old, is given in a journal kept by Emma Caldwell. My mother's comment is added, written seventy-two years later to her niece Julia Wedgwood (always called "Snow").
Extract from a Journal of Emma Caldwell, afterwards Mrs Henry Holland.
July 7, 1819.—My Aunt took me to Maer.
Miss Emma Allen, Charlotte, with Caroline [Darwin] came to dinner from Shrewsbury.
9th.—Rode with Charlotte and Harry to Newcastle. A very pleasant ride indeed. Harry agreeable—I do like a person easy to talk to for my own pleasure, even though they may not be as agreeable as another could be if he let out what is treasured up.1—Sailed and rowed in the boat.
1 This is a reference to the elder brother, then, called Joe.
10th.—Mr Wicksted2 and Ellen Tollet called. We had a brisk gale and gallant sail round the pool.
2 Charles, the only son of Mr Tollet of Betley Hall, had taken the name of Wicksted on inheriting Shakenhurst in Worcestershire.
Elizabeth, Harry, Emma and I rode to Hanchurch through Swinnerton Park. Delightful day, and very pleasant. Mama fetched me home.
I never saw anything pleasanter than the ways of going on of this family, and one reason is the freedom of speech upon every subject; there is no difference in politics or principles of any kind that makes it treason to speak one's mind openly, and they all do it. There is a simplicity of good sense about them, that no one ever dreams of not differing upon any subject where they feel inclined. As no things are said from party or prejudice, there is no bitterness in discussing opinions. I believe this could not be the case if there was a decided difference of party principle in the members of a family. It is greatly desirable that should not happen.
The part of the intellectual character most improved by the Wedgwood education is good sense, which is indeed their pre-eminent quality. It is one of the most important, and in the end will promote more of their own and others happiness than any other quality. The moral quality most promoted by their education is benevolence, which combined with good sense, gives all that education can give. The two little girls are happy, gay, amiable, sensible, and though not particularly energetic in learning, yet will acquire all that is necessary by their steady perseverance. They have freedom in their actions in this house as well as in their principles. Doors and windows stand open, you are nowhere in confinement; you may do as you like; you are surrounded by books that all look most tempting to read; you will always find some pleasant topic of conversation, or may start one, as all things are talked of in the general family. All this sounds and is delightful.
Emma Darwin to her niece Julia Wedgwood.
Autumn, 1891.
MY DEAR SNOW,
I cannot tell you what vivid pleasure this [journal] has given me, if only in putting me in mind of that ride; which was a great honour to a little girl, of course. I remember my wonder at Emma [Caldwell] being able to force herself (she was very tall and not slender) into Eliz's habit, and I wonder what Eliz herself could have worn, some make-shift I suppose. I remember Harry's high spirits and the short gallops we took up the little pitches of the pretty wood we were skirting. It is clear that Jos excited some interest in her mind.
I doubt whether common sense can be learnt by education; no doubt it may be improved. There would be no liberty at Linley Wood while Mr Caldwell was in the room. He was a high Tory, and I have no doubt those clever daughters had all sorts of Liberal crotchets. Mrs Caldwell was genial and delightful. There was the same want of liberty at Shrewsbury whenever Dr Darwin was in the room; but then he was genial and sympathetic, only nobody must go on about their own talk.
Josiah Wedgwood of Maer Hall. From the portrait by Owen in possession of Mrs Vaughan Williams of Leith Hill Place to face
Emma was pretty, with abundant rich brown hair, grey eyes and a fresh complexion, a firm chin, a high forehead and straight nose. She was of medium height, with wellformed shoulders and pretty hands and arms. She had a graceful and dignified carriage. The only picture of her till old age is the water-colour drawing by Richmond (of which a reproduction is given), painted soon after her marriage, but it was not considered to be a good likeness.
Fanny was short and not pretty, though with bright colouring. She was gentle, orderly and industrious. Emma had initiative, high spirits, and more ability than her sister. Her mother's nickname for Fanny, "Mrs Pedigree," no doubt alludes to her curious tastes, of which there are many evidences—lists of temperatures, lists of words in different languages, housekeeping memoranda, etc. These lists were found after my mother's death amongst her treasures. They had been kept by her ever since her sister's death more than sixty years ago.
Emma's nickname at the same time was "Little Miss Slip-Slop," and that also is revealing as to her character. She was never tidy or orderly as to little things. But, on the other hand, she had a large-minded, unfussy way of taking life which is more common amongst men than amongst women. My father said that after he married he made up his mind to give up all his natural taste for tidiness, and that he would not allow himself to feel annoyed by her calm disregard for such details. He would say the only sure place to find a pin or a pair of scissors was his study.
I remember one little anecdote told me by my mother about her sister Fanny. When their cousin, Mrs Swinton Holland, gave three little brooches to Fanny, Emma, and their cousin Jessie Wedgwood, Fanny had first choice, and Emma saw distinctly that Fanny was choosing the least pretty one, but she herself had not unselfishness enough to act in the same way, and her turn coming next, she chose the prettiest.
Emma's childhood must have been a most happy one under the gentle, wise rule of her mother. Elizabeth and Charlotte taught Fanny and Emma their lessons. My mother told me they had a long morning's work, nine till one I think, and then nothing else at all to do for the rest of the day, no preparations or work of any kind.1
1 This does not quite agree with their aunt Emma Allen's account in 1819, but it is my distinct memory of what my mother said.
I often think how different this training is from that of the modern child; and judged by results it does not lose in comparison. I should also imagine that this freedom for hours every day—to read, to think, and to amuse herself—must have greatly added to the remarkable independence of Emma's character and way of thinking. It is certainly the fact that all the sisters were well educated women, judged by any modern standard. In languages Emma knew French, Italian, and German.1 Her general knowledge was wide, but this may have been mainly acquired in a long life of reading. I should add that I only mean such general knowledge as one would expect to find in a cultivated woman. The lists kept by Fanny of books read, and the carefully annotated New Testament (now in my possession), shew their industry.
1 My father often said that where she failed in making out and translating a sentence for him in German, a non-scientific German would generally also fail.
Emma's handwriting, which did not change much in all her eighty-eight years of life, was, like herself, firm, calm, and transparently clear. She did not write quickly, but with an even, steady pace which got over a great deal of ground in its leisurely way. She was capable in all she undertook, a beautiful needlewoman, a good archer; and she rode, danced, and skated. She drew a little, though she said herself her drawing was quite worthless. Her gift was music. She played delightfully on the piano till the very end of her life. She had a crisp and fine touch and played always with intelligence and simplicity. But she could endure nothing sentimental, and "slow movements" were occasionally under her treatment somewhat too "allegro." There was always vigour and spirit, but not passion—in fact her character shewed itself in her playing. She was an excellent reader of music, and to the end of her life tried over new things, appreciating some, but not all, of the more modern kinds. She had lessons from Moscheles and a few from Chopin. But she told me she did not think she had ever practised more than an hour a day in her whole life. Unless, however, she was ill, she hardly passed a day without playing for her own entertainment, if it was only for ten minutes. It is remarkable, however, that she should have attained such excellence with so small an expenditure of trouble.
