at one end of the room, which waved to and fro with the wind; and,
looking behind it, I found a large, stone casement window without a
single pane of glass, or shutters of any kind. He determined not to
take off his clothes; but I, gaining courage from despair,
undressed, went to bed, and never slept better in my life, or ever
awakened in better health or spirits than at ten o'clock the next
morning.

'After breakfast the Marquis took us to visit the Grotto de la
Baume, which was at the distance of not more than two leagues from
his house. We were most hospitably received at the house of an old
officer, who was Seigneur of the place. His hall was more amply
furnished with implements of the chase and spoils of the field than
any which I have ever seen, or ever heard described. There were nets
of such dimensions, and of such strength, as were quite new to me;
bows, cross-bows, of prodigious power; guns of a length and weight
that could not be wielded by the strength of modern arms; some with
old matchlocks, and with rests to be stuck into the ground, and
others with wheel-locks; besides modern fire-arms of all
descriptions; horns of deer, and tusks of wild boars, were placed in
compartments in such numbers, that every part of the walls was
covered either with arms or trophies.

'The master of the mansion, in bulk, dress, and general appearance,
was suited to the style of life which might be expected from what we
had seen at our entrance. He was above six feet high, strong, and
robust, though upwards of sixty years of age; he wore a leather
jerkin, and instead of having his hair powdered, and tied in a long
queue, according to the fashion of the day, he wore his own short
grey locks; his address was plain, frank, and hearty, but by no
means coarse or vulgar. He was of an ancient family, but of a
moderate fortune.' Here Edgeworth adds a long description of the
grotto and its stalactites. They returned to dine with the old
officer at his castle.

'Our dinner was in its arrangement totally unlike anything I had
seen in France, or anywhere else. It consisted of a monstrous, but
excellent, wild boar ham; this, and a large savoury pie of different
sorts of game, were the principal dishes; which, with some common
vegetables, amply satisfied our hunger. The blunt hospitality of
this rural baron was totally different from that which is to be met
with in remote parts of the country of England. It was more the
open-heartedness of a soldier than the roughness of a squire.'

During the winter of 1772 Edgeworth was busy making plans for
flour-mills to be erected on a piece of land gained from the river.
But his stay in Lyons was cut short as the news reached him in March
1773 that Mrs. Edgeworth, who had returned to England for her
confinement, had died after giving birth to a daughter. He travelled
home with his son through Burgundy and Paris, and on reaching
England arranged to meet Mr. Day at Woodstock. His friend greeted
him with the words,' Have you heard anything of Honora Sneyd ?'

Mr. Edgeworth continues: 'I assured him that I had heard nothing but
what he had told me when he was in France; that she had some disease
in her eyes, and that it was feared she would lose her sight.' I
added that I was resolved to offer her my hand, even if she had
undergone such a dreadful privation.

'"My dear friend," said he, "while virtue and honour forbade you to
think of her, I did everything in my power to separate you; but now
that you are both at liberty, I have used the utmost expedition to
reach you on your arrival in England, that I might be the first to
tell you that Honora is in perfect health and beauty, improved in
person and in mind; and, though surrounded by lovers, still her own
mistress."

'At this moment I enjoyed the invaluable reward of my steady
adherence to the resolution which I had formed on leaving England,
never to keep up the slightest intercourse with her by letter,
message, or inquiry. I enjoyed also the proof my friend gave me of
his generous affection. Mr. Day had now come several hundred miles
for the sole purpose of telling me of the fair prospects before me.
. . .

'A new era in my life was now beginning. ... I went directly to
Lichfield, to Dr. Darwin's. The doctor was absent, but his sister,
an elderly maiden lady, who then kept house for him, received me
kindly.

'"You will excuse me," said the good lady, "for not making tea for
you this evening, as I am engaged to the Miss Sneyds; but perhaps
you will accompany me, as I am sure you will be welcome."

'It was summer--We found the drawing-room at Mr. Sneyd's filled by
all my former acquaintances and friends, who had, without concert
among themselves, assembled as if to witness the meeting of two
persons, whose sentiments could scarcely be known even to the
parties themselves.

'I have been told that the last person whom I addressed or saw, when
I came into the room, was Honora Sneyd. This I do not remember; but
I am perfectly sure that, when I did see her, she appeared to me
most lovely, even more lovely than when we parted. What her
sentiments might be it was impossible to divine.

'My addresses were, after some time, permitted and approved; and,
with the consent of her father, Miss Honora Sneyd and I were married
(1773), by special licence, in the ladies' choir, in the Cathedral
at Lichfield. Immediately after the marriage ceremony we left
Lichfield, and went to Ireland.'

Now followed what was perhaps the happiest period of Mr. Edgeworth's
life, but it was uneventful. The young couple saw little society
while living at Edgeworth Town; and after a three years' residence
in Ireland, they visited England to rub off the rust of isolation in
contact with their intellectual friends. He says: 'We certainly
found a considerable change for the better as to comfort,
convenience, and conversation among our English acquaintance. So
much so, that we were induced to remain in England. . . . My mind
was kept up to the current of speculation and discovery in the world
of science, and continual hints for reflection and invention were
suggested to me. . . . My attention was about this period turned to
clockwork, and I invented several pieces of mechanism for measuring
time. These, with the assistance of a good workman, I executed
successfully. I then (in 1776) finished a clock on a new
construction. Its accuracy was tried at the Observatory at Oxford
. . . and it is now (in 1809) going well at my house in Ireland.'

Edgeworth now enjoyed the pleasure of having an intelligent
companion, and says: 'My wife had an eager desire for knowledge of
all sorts, and, perhaps to please me, became an excellent theoretic
mechanic. Mechanical amusements occupied my mornings, and I
dedicated my evenings to the best books upon various subjects. I
strenuously endeavoured to improve my own understanding, and to
communicate whatever I knew to my wife. Indeed, while we read and
conversed together during the long winter evenings, the clearness of
her judgment assisted me in every pursuit of literature in which I
was engaged; as her understanding had arrived at maturity before she
had acquired any strong prejudices on historical subjects, she
derived uncommon advantage from books.

'We had frequent visitors from town; and as our acquaintance were
people of literature and science, conversation with them exercised
and arranged her thoughts upon whatever subject they were employed.
Nor did we neglect the education of our children: Honora had under
her care, at this time, two children of her own, and three of mine
by my former marriage.'

Edgeworth and his friend Mr. Day were both great admirers of
Rousseau's Emile and of his scheme of bringing up children to be
hardy, fearless, and independent. Edgeworth brought up his eldest
boy after this fashion; but though he succeeded in making him hardy,
and training him in 'all the virtues of a child bred in the hut of a
savage, and all the knowledge of things which could well be acquired
at an early age by a boy bred in civilised society,' yet he adds:
'He was not disposed to obey; his exertions generally arose from his
own will; and, though he was what is commonly called good-tempered
and good-natured, though he generally pleased by his looks,
demeanour, and conversation, he had too little deference for others,
and he showed an invincible dislike to control.'

In passing through Paris, Edgeworth and Mr. Day went to see
Rousseau, who took a good deal of notice of Edgeworth's son; he
judged him to be a boy of abilities, and he thought from his answers
that 'history can be advantageously learned by children, if it be
taught reasonably and not merely by rote.' 'But,' said Rousseau, 'I
remark in your son a propensity to party prejudice, which will be a
great blemish in his character.'

'I asked how he could in so short a time form so decided an opinion.
He told me that, whenever my son saw a handsome horse, or a handsome
carriage in the street, he always exclaimed, "That is an English
horse or an English carriage!" And that, even down to a pair of
shoe-buckles, everything that appeared to be good of its kind was
always pronounced by him to be English. "his sort of party
prejudice," said Rousseau, "if suffered to become a ruling motive in
his mind, will lead to a thousand evils; for not only will his own
country, his own village or club, or even a knot of his private
acquaintance, be the object of his exclusive admiration; but he will
be governed by his companions, whatever they may be, and they will
become the arbiters of destiny."'

It was while at Lyons that Edgeworth realised thaf Rousseau's system
of education was not altogether satisfactory. He says: 'I had begun
his education upon the mistaken principles of Rousseau; and I had
pursued them with as much steadiness, and, so far as they could be
advantageous, with as much success as I could desire. Whatever
regarded the health, strength, and agility of my son had amply
justified the system of my master; but I found myself entangled in
difficulties with regard to my child's mind and temper. He was
generous, brave, good-natured, and what is commonly called
goodtempered; but he was scarcely to be controlled. It was difficult
to urge him to anything that did not suit his fancy, and more
difficult to restrain him from what he wished to follow. In short,
he was self-willed, from a spirit of independence, which had been
inculcated by his early education, and which he cherished the more
from the inexperience of his own powers.

'I must here acknowledge, with deep regret, not only the error of a
theory, which I had adopted at a very early age, when older and
wiser persons than myself had been dazzled by the eloquence of
Rousseau; but I must also reproach myself with not having, after my
arrival in France, paid as much attention to my boy as I had done
in England, or as much as was necessary to prevent the formation of
those habits, which could never afterwards be eradicated.'

Edgeworth, finding that the tutor he had brought from England was
not able to control his son, resolved to send young Richard to
school at Lyons. The Jesuits had lately been dismissed, but the
Peres de L'Oratoire had taken charge of their Seminary, and to them
Edgeworth resolved to intrust his son, having been first assured by
the Superior that he would not attempt to convert the boy, and would
forbid the under-masters to do so. A certain Pere Jerome, however,
desired to make the boy a good Catholic; and the Superior frankly
told Edgeworth the circumstance, saying,'One day he took your boy
between his knees, and began from the beginning of things to teach
him what he ought to believe. "My little man," said he, "did you
ever hear of God?"

'"Yes."

'"You know that, before He made the world, His Spirit brooded over
the vast deep, which was a great sea without shores, and without
bottom. Then He made this world out of earth."

'"Where did He find the earth ?" asked the boy.

'"At the bottom of the sea," replied Father Jerome.

'"But," said the boy, "you told me just now that the sea had no bottom!"'

The Superior of the College des Oratoires concluded, 'You may, sir,
I think, be secure that your son, when capable of making such a
reply, is in no great danger of becoming a Catholic from the
lectures of such profound teachers as these.'

This son, having no turn for scholarship, ultimately went to sea, a
life which his hardihood and fearlessness of danger peculiarly
fitted him for. Some years afterwards he married an American lady
and settled in South Carolina.

It was, perhaps, a failure in this first experiment in education
which made Edgeworth devote so much care to the training of his
younger children.





CHAPTER 4

After six years of happiness Honora's health gave way, and
consumption set in; some months of anxious nursing followed
before  she died, to the great grief of her husband. She left
several children, and her dying wish was that he should marry
her sister Elizabeth.

Mr. Edgeworth was, at first, benumbed by grief, and unable to
take an interest in his former pursuits; but in the society of
his wife's family he gradually recovered cheerfulness, and
began to consider his wife's dying advice to marry her sister.
He remarks: 'Nothing is more erroneous than the common
belief, that a man who has lived in the greatest happiness
with one wife will be the most averse to take another. On the
contrary, the loss of happiness, which he feels when he loses
her, necessarily urges him to endeavour to be again placed in
a situation which has constituted his former felicity.

'I felt that Honora had judged wisely, and from a thorough
knowledge of my character, when she had advised me to marry
again.'

After these observations it is not surprising to hear that
Edgeworth became engaged to Elizabeth Sneyd in the autumn of
1780. They were staying for the marriage at Brereton Hall in
Cheshire, and their banns were published in the parish church;
but on the very morning appointed for the marriage, the
clergyman received a letter which roused so many scruples in
his mind as to make Edgeworth think it cruel to press him to
perform the ceremony. The Rector of St. Andrew's, Holborn, was
less scrupulous, and they were married there on Christmas Day
1780.

The following summer Mr. and Mrs. Edgeworth rented Davenport
Hall in Cheshire, where they lived a quiet retired life,
spending a good deal of their time with their friends Sir
Charles and Lady Holte at Brereton. Edgeworth amused himself
by making a clock for the steeple at Brereton, and a chronometer of
a singular construction, which, he says,'I intended to present to
the King ... to add to His Majesty's collection of uncommon clocks
and watches which I had seen at St. James's.'

The autobiography from which I have been quoting was begun by
Edgeworth when he was about sixty-three, and it breaks off
abruptly at the date of 1781. The illness which interrupted
his task did not, however, prove fatal, for he lived nearly
ten years afterwards.

His daughter Maria takes up the narrative, and in her
introduction she says, 'In continuing these Memoirs, I shall
endeavour to follow the example that my father has set me of
simplicity and of truth.'

The following memorandum was found in Edgeworth's handwriting:
'In the year 1782 I returned to Ireland, with a firm determination
to dedicate the remainder of my life to the improvement of my
estate, and to the education of my children; and farther, with the
sincere hope of contributing to the amelioration of the inhabitants
of the country from which I drew my subsistence.'

When in the spring of 1768 Edgeworth visited Ireland with his
friend Mr. Day, the latter was surprised and disgusted by the
state of Dublin and of the country in general. He found 'the
streets of Dublin were wretchedly paved, and more dirty than
can be easily imagined.' Edgeworth adds: 'As we passed through
the country, the hovels in which the poor were lodged, which
were then far more wretched than they are at present, or than
they have been for the last twenty years, the black tracts of
bog, and the unusual smell of the turf fuel, were to him
never-ceasing topics of reproach and lamentation. Mr. Day's
deep-seated prejudice in favour of savage life was somewhat
shaken by this view of want and misery, which philosophers of
a certain class in London and Paris chose at that time to
dignify by the name of simplicity. The modes of living in the
houses of the gentry were much the same in Ireland as in
England. This surprised my friend. He observed, that if there
was any difference, it was that people of similar fortune did
not restrain themselves equally in both countries to the same
prudent economy; but that every gentleman in Ireland, of two
or three thousand pounds a year, lived in a certain degree of
luxury and show that would be thought presumptuous in persons
of the same fortune in England.

'On our journey to my father's house, I had occasion to vote
at a contested election in one of the counties through which
we passed. Here a scene of noise, riot, confusion, and
drunkenness was exhibited, not superior indeed in depravity
and folly, but of a character or manner so different from what
my friend had even seen in his own country, that he fell into
a profound melancholy.'

It was to remedy this wretched state of things in Ireland that
Edgeworth resolved in 1782 to devote his energies.

It is curious to read his account of the relations between landlord
and tenant in Ireland at this date. He soon learned that firmness
was required in his dealings with his tenants as well as kindness.
'He omitted a variety of old feudal remains of fines and penalties;
but there was one clause, which he continued in every lease with a
penalty attached to it, called an alienation fine--a fine of so much
an acre upon the tenant's reletting any part of the devised land.'

He wisely resolved to receive his rents himself, and to avoid the
intervention of any agent or driver ('a person who drives and
impounds cattle for rent or arrears'). 'In every case where the
tenant had improved the land, or even where he had been industrious,
though unsuccessful, his claim to preference over every new
proposer, his tenanfs right, as it is called, was admitted. But the
mere plea of "I have lived under your Honour, or your Honour's
father or grandfather" or "I have been on your Honour's estate so
many years" he disregarded. Farms, originally sufficient for the
comfortable maintenance of a man, his wife, and family, had in many
cases been subdivided from generation to generation, the father
giving a bit of the land to each son to settle him. It was an
absolute impossibility that the land should ever be improved if let
in these miserable lots. Nor was it necessary that each son should
hold land, or advantageous that each should live on his "little
potato garden" without further exertion of mind or body.

'There was a continual struggle between landlord and tenant upon the
question of long and short leases. . . . The offer of immediate high
rent, or of fines to be paid down directly, tempted the landlord's
extravagance, or supplied his present necessities, at the expense of
his future interests. . . . Many have let for ninety-nine years;
and others, according to a form common in 'Ireland, for three lives,
renewable for ever, paying a small fine on the insertion of a new
life at the failure of each. These leases, in course of years, have
been found extremely disadvantageous to the landlord, the property
having risen so much in value that the original rent was absurdly
disproportioned.

'The longest term my father ever gave,' says his daughter Maria,
'was thirty-one years, with one or sometimes two lives. He usually
gave one life, reserving to himself the option of adding another
--the son, perhaps, of the tenant--if he saw that the tenant
deserved it by his conduct. This sort of power to encourage and
reward in the hands of a landlord is advantageous in Ireland. It
acts as a motive for exertion; it keeps up the connection and
dependence which there ought to be between the different ranks,
without creating any servile habits, or leaving the improving tenant
insecure as to the fair reward of his industry.

'Edgeworth's plan was to take not that which, abstractedly viewed,
is the best possible course, but that which is the best the
circumstances will altogether allow.

'When the oppressive duty-work in Ireland was no longer claimed, and
no longer inserted in Irish leases, there arose  a difficulty to
gentlemen in getting labourers at certain times of  the year, when
all are anxious to work for themselves; for instance,  at the
seasons for cutting turf, setting potatoes, and getting home  the
harvest.

'To provide against this difficulty, landlords adopted a system of
taking duty-work, in fact, in a new form. They had cottiers
(cottagers), day-labourers established in cottages, on their estate,
usually near their own residence. Many of these cabins were the
poorest habitations that can be imagined; and these were given rent
free, that is, the rent was to be worked out on whatever days, or on
whatever occasions, it was called for. The grazing for the cow, the
patch of land for flax, and the ridge or ridges of potato land were
also to be paid for in days' labour in the same manner. The
uncertainty of this tenure at will, that is, at the pleasure of the
landlord, with the rent in labour and time, variable also at his
pleasure or convenience, became rather more injurious to the tenant
than the former fixed mode of sacrificing so many days' duty-work,
even at the most hazardous seasons of the year.

'My father wished to have entirely avoided this cottager system; but
he was obliged to adopt a middle course. To his labourers he gave
comfortable cottages at a low rent, to be held at will from year to
year; but he paid them wages exactly the same as what they could
obtain elsewhere. Thus they were partly free and partly bound. They
worked as free labourers; but they were obliged to work, that they
might pay their rent. And their houses being better, and other
advantages greater, than they could obtain elsewhere, they had a
motive for industry and punctuality; thus their services and their
attachment were properly secured. . . . My father's indulgence as to
the time he allowed his tenantry for the payment of their rent was
unusually great. He left always a year's rent in their hands: this
was half a year more time than almost any other gentleman in our
part of the country allowed. . . . He was always very exact in
requiring that the rents should not, in their payments, pass beyond
the half-yearly days--the 25th of March and 29th of September. In
this point they knew his strictness so well that they seldom
ventured to go into arrear, and never did so with impunity. . . .
They would have cheated, loved, and despised a more easy landlord,
and his property would have gone to ruin, without either permanently
bettering their interests or their morals. He, therefore, took
especial care that they should be convinced of his strictness in
punishing as well as of his desire to reward.

'Where the offender was tenant, and the punisher landlord, it rarely
happened, even if the law reached the delinquent, that public
opinion sided with public justice. In Ireland it has been, time
immemorial, common with tenants, who have had advantageous bargains,
and who have no hopes of getting their leases renewed, to waste the
ground as much as possible; to break it up towards the end of the
term; or to overhold, that is, to keep possession of the land,
refusing to deliver it up.

'A tenant, who held a farm of considerable value, when his lease
was out, besought my father to permit him to remain on the farm for
another year, pleading that he had no other place to which he could,
at that season, it being winter, remove his large family. The
permission was granted; but at the end of the year, taking advantage
of this favour, he refused to give up the land. Proceedings at law
were immediately commenced against him; and it was in this case that
the first trial in Ireland was brought, on an act for recovering
double rent from a tenant for holding forcible possession after
notice to quit.

'This vexatious and unjust practice of tenants against landlords
had been too common, and had too long been favoured by the party
spirit of juries; who, being chiefly composed of tenants, had made
it a common cause, and a principle, if it could in any way be
avoided, never to give a verdict, as they said, against themselves.
But in this case the indulgent character of the landlord, combined
with the ability and eloquence of' his advocate, succeeded in moving
the jury--a verdict was obtained for the landlord. The double rent
was paid; and the fraudulent tenant was obliged to quit the country
unpitied. Real good was done by this example.'

Edgeworth objected strongly to a practice common among the gentry,
'to protect their tenants when they got into any difficulties by
disobeying the laws. Smuggling and illicit distilling seemed to be
privileged cases, where, the justice and expediency of the spirit of
the law being doubtful, escaping from the letter of it appeared but
a trial of ingenuity or luck. In cases that admitted of less doubt,
in the frequent breach of the peace from quarrels at fairs, rescuing
of cattle drivers for rent, or in other more serious outrages,
tenants still looked to their landlord for protection; and hoped,
even to the last, that his Honour's or his Lordship's interest would
get the fine taken off, the term of imprisonment shortened, or the
condemned criminal snatched from execution. He [Edgeworth] never
would, on any occasion, or for the persons he was known to like
best, interfere to protect, as it is called, that is, to screen, or
to obtain pardon for any one of his tenants or dependants, if they
had really infringed the laws, or had deserved punishment. . . . He
set an example of being scrupulous to the most exact degree as a
grand juror, both as to the money required for roads or for any
public works, and as to the manner in which it was laid out.

'To his character as a good landlord was soon added that he was a
real gentleman. This phrase, pronounced with well-known emphasis,
comprises a great deal in the opinion of the lower Irish. They seem
to have an instinct for the real gentleman, whom they distinguish,
if not at first sight, infallibly at first hearing, from every
pretender to the character. They observe that the real gentleman
bears himself most kindly, is always the most civil in speech, and
ever seems the most tender of the poor. . . .

'They soon began to rely upon his justice as a magistrate. This is
a point where, their interest being nearly concerned, they are
wonderfully quick and clearsighted; they soon discovered that Mr.
Edgeworth leaned neither to Protestant nor Catholic, to Presbyterian
nor Methodist; that he was not the favourer nor partial protector
of his own or any other man's followers. They found that the law of
the land was not in his hands an instrument of oppression, or
pretence for partiality. They discerned that he did even justice;
neither inclining to the people, for the sake of popularity; nor to
the aristocracy, for the sake of power. This was a thing so unusual,
that they could at first hardly believe that it was really what they
saw.

'Soon after his return to Ireland he set about improving a
considerable tract of land, reletting it at an advanced rent, which
gave the actual monied measure of his skill and success.' He also
wrote a paper on the draining and planting of bogs, in which he
gives minute directions for carrying out the work, for he was no
mere theorist, but experimented on his own property; and he was not
ashamed to own when he had made a mistake, but was constantly
learning from experience.

He had for a while to turn from peaceful occupations and take his
share in patriotic efforts for parliamentary refortn; this reform
was pressed on the parliament sitting in Dublin by a delegation from
a convention of the Irish volunteers. They were raised in 1778
during the American War, when England had not enough troops for the
defence of Ireland. The principal Irish nobility and gentry enrolled
themselves, and the force at length increased, till it numbered
50,000 men, under the command of officers of their own choosing. The
Irish patriots now felt their power, and used it with prudence and
energy. They obtained the repeal of many noxious laws--one in
particular was a penal statute passed in the reign of William III.
against the Catholics ordaining forfeiture of inheritance against
those Catholics who had been educated abroad.' At the pleasure of
any informer, it confiscated their estates to the next Protestant
heir; that statute further deprived Papists of the power of
obtaining any legal property by purchase; and, simply for
officiating in the service of his religion, any Catholic priest was
liable to be imprisoned for life. Some of these penalties had fallen
into disuse; but, as Mr. Dunning stated to the English House of
Commons, "many respectable Catholics still lived in fear of them,
and some actually paid contributions to persons who, on the strength
of this act, threatened them with prosecutions." Lord Shelburne
stated in the House of Lords "that even the most odious part of this
statute had been recently acted upon in the case of one Moloury, an
Irish priest, who had been informed against, apprehended, convicted,
and committed to prison, by means of the lowest and most despicable
of mankind, a common informing constable. The Privy Council used
efforts in behalf of the prisoner; but, in consequence of the
written law, the King himself could not give a pardon, and the
prisoner must have died in jail if Lord Shelburne and his colleagues
had not released him at their own risk."'

This law was repealed by the English House of Commons without a
negative, and only one Bishop opposed its repeal in the House of
Lords.

Having won this victory, the Irish patriots continued their
campaign, and now sought to win general emancipation from the
legislative and commercial restrictions of England. It was in 1781
that the first convention of volunteer delegates met, and some
months after Mr. Grattan moved an address to the throne asserting
the legislative independence of Ireland. 'The address passed; the
repeal of a certain act, empowering England to legislate for
Ireland, followed; and the legislative independence of this country
was acknowledged.'

Edgeworth sympathised with the enthusiasm which prevailed throughout
Ireland at this time; but he was shrewd enough to see that what was
further required for the real benefit of the country was 'an
effectual reformation of the Irish House of Commons.'

The counties were insufficiently represented, and the boroughs were
venal. The Irish parliament was, in fact, an Oligarchy, and
Edgeworth realised this danger. He, however, wished the reform to be
carried on 'through the intervention of parliament,' while the more
extreme party insisted on sending delegates from the volunteers to a
convention in Dublin. This military convention 'met at the Royal
Exchange in Dublin, November the 9th, 1783--Parliament was then
sitting. An armed convention assembled in the capital, and sitting
at the same time with the Houses of Lords and Commons, deliberating
on a legislative question, was a new and unprecedented spectacle.

'In this convention, as in all public assemblies, there was a
violent and a moderate party. Lord Charlemont, the president of the
assembly, was at the head of the moderate men. Though not convinced
of the strict legality of the meeting, he thought a reform in
parliament so important and desirable an object, that to the
probability or chance of obtaining this great advantage it was the
wisdom of a true patriot to sacrifice punctilio, and to hazard all,
but, what he was too wise and good to endanger, the peace of the
country. Lord Charlemont accepted the office of president, specially
with the hope that he and his friends might be able to influence the
convention in favour of proceedings at once temperate and firm. The
very sincerity of his desire to attain a reform rendered him
clear-sighted as to the means to be pursued; and while he wished
that the people should be allowed every degree of liberty consistent
with safety, no man was less inclined to democracy, or could feel
more horror at the idea of involving his country in a state of civil
anarchy.

'The Bishop of Deny (Lord Bristol), wishing well to Ireland, but of
a far less judicious character than Lord Charlemont, was at the head
of the opposite party. . . . Lord Charlemont, foreseeing the danger
of disagreement between the parliament and convention, if at this
time any communication were opened between them, earnestly
deprecated the attempts. It was his desire that the convention,
after declaring their opinion in favour of a parliamentary reform,
should adjourn without adopting a specific plan; and that they
should refer it to future meetings of each county, to send to
parliament, in the regular constitutional manner, their petitions
and addresses. Mr. Flood, however, whose abilities and eloquence had
predominant influence over the convention, and who wished to
distinguish himself in parliament as the proposer of reform,
prevailed upon the convention, on one of the last nights of their
meeting, to send him, accompanied by other members of parliament
from among the volunteer delegates, directly to the House of
Commons then sitting. There he was to make a motion on the question of
parliamentary reform, introducing to the House his specific plan
from the convention. The appearance of Mr. Flood, and of the
delegates by whom he was accompanied, in their volunteer uniforms,
in the Irish House of Commons, excited an extraordinary sensation.
Those who were present, and who have given an account of the scene
that ensued, describe it as violent and tumultuous in the
extreme. On both sides the passions were worked up to a dangerous
height. The debate lasted all night. "The tempest, for, towards
morning, debate there was none, at last ceased." The question was
put, and Mr. Flood's motion for reform in parliament was negatived
by a very large majority. The House of Commons then entered into
resolutions declaratory of their fixed determination to maintain
their just rights and privileges against any encroachments whatever,
adding that it was at that time indispensably necessary to make such
a declaration. Further, an address was moved, intended to be made
the joint address of Lords and Commons to the throne, expressing
their satisfaction with His Majesty's Government, and their
resolution to support that government, and the constitution, with
their lives and fortunes. The address was carried up to the Lords,
and immediately agreed to. This was done with the celerity of
passion on all sides.

'Meantime an armed convention continued sitting the whole night,
waiting for the return of their delegates from the House of Commons,
and impatient to learn the fate of Mr. Flood's motion. One step
more, and irreparable, fatal imprudence might have been committed.
Lord Charlemont, the president of the convention, felt the danger;
and it required all the influence of his character, all the
assistance of the friends of moderation, to prevail upon the
assembly to dissolve, without waiting longer to hear the report from
their delegates in the House of Commons. The convention had, in
fact, nothing more to do, or nothing that they could attempt without
peril; but it was difficult to persuade the assembly to dissolve the
meeting, and to return quietly to their respective counties and
homes. This point, however, was fortunately accomplished, and early
in the morning the meeting terminated.'

Miss Edgeworth adds: 'I have heard my father say that he ever
afterwards rejoiced in the share he had in preserving one of the
chiefs of this volunteer convention from a desperate resolution, and
in determining the assembly to a temperate termination.'

Writing of this convention many years afterwards, Edgeworth says:
'There never was any assembly in the British empire more in earnest
in the business on which they were convened, or less influenced by
courtly interference or cabal But the object was in itself unattainable.

'The idea of admitting Roman Catholics to the right of voting for
representatives was not urged even by the most liberal and most
enlightened members of the convention; and the number,  and wealth,
and knowledge of Protestant voters in Ireland could not decently be
considered as sufficient to elect an adequate and fair
representation of the people.'

The reforms were never carried, though fresh efforts, equally
unsuccessful, were made when Pitt became minister.



CHAPTER 5

It was in 1786 that Edgeworth had a severe fall from a scaffolding,
the result of which was, as his friend Dr Darwin prophesied, an
attack of jaundice. When the workmen brought him home, he tried to
reassure his family by telling them the story of a French Marquis,'
who fell from a balcony at Versailles, and who, as it was court
politeness that nothing unfortunate should ever be mentioned in the
King's presence, replied to His Majesty's inquiry if he wasn't hurt
by his fall, "Tout au contraire, Sire"' To all our inquiries whether
he was hurt, my father replied, 'Tout au contraire, mes aimes.'

His friendship for Mr. Day, which had existed for many years, was
now interrupted by Mr. Day's sudden death from a fall from his horse
in 1789. Edgeworth thought of writing his life, as he considered him
to have been a man of such'original an and noble character as to
deserve a public eulogium. He goes on to say: 'To preserve a
portrait to posterity, it must either be the likeness of some
celebrated individual, or it must represent a face which,
independently of peculiar associations, corresponds with the
universal ideas of beauty. So the pen of the biographer should
portray only those who by their public have interested us in their
private characters; or who, in a superior degree, have possessed the
virtues and mental endowments which claim the general love and
admiration of mankind.' This biography, however, was never finished,
as Edgeworth found another friend, Mr. Keir, had undertaken it; he
therefore sent the materials to him, but some of them are
incorporated in the Memoirs, Sabrina, whom Mr. Day had educated, and
intended to marry (though he gave up the idea when he doubted her
docility and power of adaptiveness to his strange theories of life),
ultimately married his friend, Mr. Bicknel, while Mr. Day married
Miss Milne, a clever and accomplished lady, who had sufficient tact
to fall in with his wishes, and a wifely devotion which made up to
her for their seclusion from general society. In her widowhood she
found Mr. Edgeworth a most faithful and helpful friend; he offered
to come over and aid in the search which was made at Mr. Day's death
for a large sum of money which was not forthcoming, and which it was
thought he might, after his eccentric fashion, have concealed; as he
took this measure when, 'at the time of the American War, he had
apprehended that there would have been a national bankruptcy, and
under this dread he had sold out of the Stocks. ... A very
considerable sum had been buried under the floor of the study in his
mother's house. This he afterwards took up, and placed again in the
public funds at the return of peace.'

Mr. Day had, before his marriage, promised to leave his library to
his friend Edgeworth, but no mention was made of this in the will;
he left almost everything to Mrs. Day. She, however, hearing of Mr.
Day's promise, offered his library to his friend; but Edgeworth, in
the same generous spirit, refused it, and Mrs. Day then wrote to him
as follows: