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Richard Lovell Edgeworth was born at Bath in the year 1744. His father had in early life followed the profession of the law, but soon after his marriage, became a country gentleman. Richard was one of eight children, four of whom died very young; but on the death of his elder brother, he became possessed of all the immunities, and exposed to all the penalties, attaching to being an only son. In the history of his childhood, we observe nothing remarkable; but it is very probable, that Mr. Edgeworth's fondness for mechanical pursuits, if not his genius for mechanics,' was determined by the sight of the electrical machine, and the orrery, and the wheel-work that interested him so much when he was about seven years old. From the pleasure I received,' he says, and the impression made upon my mind that morning, I became irrecoverably a 'mechanic.' All impressious, however, strong as they may be at the time, and pleasurable, are not equally lasting. It is, indeed, melancholy to reflect how much more easily a man may be made irrecoverably a mechanic, or any thing else that has to do with only the taste or the physical faculties, than be made irrecoverably a virtuous or religious being. Of all impressions, those which relate to the conscience would seem to be the most evanescent. 'At seven years old,' says Mr. E. 'I became very 'devout.' He had read some of the New Testament, and some account of the sufferings of martyrs: these, he says, had inflamed his imagination, so that he remembers weeping bitterly because he lived at a time when there was no opportunity of becoming a martyr. This was no proof of a devout mind, though it might be of an enthusiastic one. He adds:

So strong were my religious feelings at this time of my life, that I strenuously believed, that if I had sufficient faith, I could remove mountains; and accordingly I prayed for the objects of my childish wishes with the utmost fervency, and with the strongest persuasion that my prayers would be heard. How long the fervor of this sort of devotion lasted I do not remember; but I suppose, that going to school insensibly allayed it.'

It never afterwards troubled him. And such is the termination, in thousands of instances, of those early impressions which, unintelligent and vague as they are, present the most hopeful opportunity for laying the foundation of religious habits. The mind then is, in the simplicity of its feelings, in ingenuousness, docility, and softness of heart, what afterwards it must by an immense change become, in order to enter into the kingdom of God. But, if the child has parents capable of giving a right direction to these incipient stirrings of the religious principle, and sensible of the awful responsibility which attaches to them as parents,-if at home that tenderness of conscience might

have been cherished till it was ripened into an habitual fear of God, and that childish mistaken faith might have been raised by instruction into a firm reliance upon Divine Providence,-going to school shall insensibly allay the childish feeling, and it shall afterwards be recurred to by the full-grown individual as a circumstance of boyhood of much the same importance as any of the eruptive diseases incident to that period of life.

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Mr. Edgeworth had quite got rid of all his religious feelings before he was sent to Dublin college, where he spent six months in dissipation of every kind.' He was then not seventeen. From Dublin, his father prudently removed' him to Oxford, where he entered Corpus Christi as a gentleman commoner on the 10th of Oct. 1761. At Black Bourton, within fourteen miles of Oxford, resided Paul Elers, Esq. an old friend of his father's, whose assistance, it was thought, might be of service to the young student. Mr. Elers, on being applied to on the subject, frankly and honourably represented, that he had several daughters grown and growing up, who, as the world said, were pretty girls; but to whom he could not give fortunes that could make them suitable matches for Mr. Edgeworth's son.' This objection, however, was overruled, and the consequence which Mr. Elers foresaw as probable, in due course followed. Our young Oxonian found the family at Black Bourton most agreeable he laughed, and talked, and sang with the ladies, and read Cicero and Longinus with their father, till at length, one of the young ladies became the object of his preference; he paid his court to her, and having succeeded in engaging her affections, found too late, when disposed to recede, that no honourable means of extrication were left him. They were married in Scotland, forgiven, re-married by licence with old Mr. Edgeworth's consent, and our hero had a son before he was twenty; soon after which he took his wife to Edgeworth town. His mother died a few days after their arrival. She was, in Mr. Edgeworth's phrase, a woman of exemplary piety.

On the morning of the day on which my mother died, she called me to her bed-side, and told me with a sort of pleasure, that she felt she should die before night. She expressed the following sentiment---"If there is a state of just retribution in another world I must be happy, for I have suffered during the greatest part of my life, and I know, that I did not deserve it by my thoughts or actions."

What sentiments may not the word piety' be employed to characterize! If there is a state'-the dim peradventure of the classical Heathen, on whom the light of Divine wisdom had never dawned! And, then, to hear this Christian heathen, just about to enter into the presence of her Judge, claiming future happiness at his hands, as a debt of justice for the suffering he had inflicted on her in this world! How truly awful and pitiable

the scene; how transcendently so, when we connect with it the opportunities which a person, in that rank of life, must have had for acquainting herself with the discoveries of Revelation, discoveries for which she disdained to be the wiser, though purporting to come from God himself! We know not whether this sentiment be now a prevalent one among the higher classes: among the lower, it is nearly confined, we believe, to the totally uneducated, the extremely ignorant; but with them it is a favourite notion, and forms one of the greatest obstacles to their being brought to listen to the doctrines of Christianity. Their poverty and hardships in this life, they think, entitle them to some recompense in the other world; they cannot be worse off at any rate; and such poor people may surely be excused troubling themselves about religion and things they cannot understand. The most ignorant, however, at least with some few exceptions, have beard of Jesus Christ, and have some confused notion of being the better off for his coming into the world; but here is a well-informed, a superior, and, it should seem, an amiable woman, declining to be indebted to her Saviour!

We are sorry to break the thread of the narrative by these grave digressions; but such a sentiment could not be passed over without comment. We now return to Mr. Edgeworth, whom we left in Ireland with his young wife. Here he remained a year; and I never passed twelve months,' he says,' with less pleasure or improvement.'

No person of my family had any taste for the scientific employments in which I was occupied, and my young wife in particular had but little sympathy with my tastes. I felt the inconvenience of an early and hasty marriage; and, though I heartily repented my folly, I determined to bear, with firmness and temper, the evil which I had brought upon myself. Perhaps pride had some share in this resolu

tion."

In the autumn of 1765, Mr. E. returned to England, and stopped for a few days at Chester, where he saw an exhibition of machinery, which revived his passion for the mechanical arts. The exhibitor described to him a carriage invented by Dr. Darwin, which was so constructed as to turn in a small compass, without danger of oversetting, and without the incumbrance of a crane-necked perch. This determined him to try his skill in coach-making.

As I had no particular object to engage my attention, I had great pleasure in looking forward to this scheme, as a source of employment and amusement. Had I been present at this time of my life in the House of Commons during an animated debate, the subject of which had been level to my capacity, and to the actual state of my knowledge, it is more than probable, that I should have turned my thoughts and my ambition to parliamentary instead of to scientific pursuits."

After visiting his wife's family at Black Bourton, Mr. E. took a small house at Hare Hatch, between Reading and Maidenhead, intending to keep his terms at the Temple, with a view to being called to the bar, for which profession his father had destined him. Here he had his workshop, and spent the greater part of most days in visits to smiths, coach-makers, and workmen of various sorts at Reading. At this time, the celebrated Comus was exhibiting a variety of scientific deceptions in London. Mr. E. went to see them, and soon discovered many of his secrets. This circumstance first introduced him, through a mutual relation, to the acquaintance of Sir Francis Delaval, who had also discovered these secrets, and believed himself to be the only person in England who was in possession of them. The anecdotes which are given of this eccentric and profligate person, are highly amusing; but, taken altogether, it is a melancholy tale.

Some years before I was acquainted with him, Sir Francis, with Foote for his coadjutor, had astonished the town as a conjuror, and had obtained from numbers vast belief in his necromantic powers. This confidence he gained, chiefly by relating to those who consulted him the past events of their lives; thence he easily persuaded them, that he could foretell what would happen to them in future; and this persuasion frequently led to the accomplishment of his prophecies. Foote chose for the scene of their necromancy a large and dark room in an obscure court, I believe in Leicester Fields. The entrance to this room was through a very long, narrow, winding passage, lighted up by a few dim lamps. The conjuror was seated upon a kind of ottoman in the middle of the room, with a huge drum before him, which contained his familiar spirit. He was dressed in the eastern fashion, with an enormous turban, and a long white beard. His assistant held a white wand in his hand, and with a small stick struck the drum from time to time, from which there issued a deep and melancholy sound. His dragoman answered the questions that were asked of him by his visitants, while the conjuror preserved the most dignified silence, only making signs, which his interpreter translated into words. When a question was asked, the visitant was kept at a distance from the drum, from which the oracle seemed to proceed. The former habits, and extensive acquaintance of Sir F. Delaval, and of his associates, who, in fact, were all the men of gallantry of his day, furnished him with innumerable anecdotes of secret intrigues, which were some of them known only to themselves and their paramours. Foote had acquired a considerable knowledge of the gallantries of the city; and the curiosity, which had been awakened and gratified at the west end of the town by the disclosure of certain ridiculous adventures in the city, gave to the conjuror his first celebrity. It was said, that he had revealed secrets that had been buried for years in obscurity. Ladies as well as gentlemen among the fools of quality were soon found, to imitate the dames of the city in idle and pernicious curiosity; and under the sanction of fashion, the delusion spread rapidly through all ranks. Various attempts were made to deceive the conjuror under VOL. XIV. N.S. 2 U

false names, and by a substitution of persons; but he in general sueceeded in detecting these, and his fame stood at one time so high, as to induce persons of the first consideration to consult him secretly. His method of obtaining sudden influence over the incredulous was by telling them some small detached circumstances, which had happened to them a short time before, and which they thought could scarcely be known to any body but themselves. This he effected by means of an agent, whom he employed at the door as a porter. This man was acquainted with all the intriguing footmen in London, and whilst he detained the servants of his master's visitants as they entered, he obtained from them various information, which was communicated by his fellow servants through a pipe to the drum of the conjurer. It was said, that in the course of a few weeks, while this delusion lasted, more matches were made, and more intrigues were brought to a conclusion, by Sir Francis Delaval and his associates, than all the meddling old ladies in London could have effected or even suspected in as many months. Among the marriages was that of Lady Nassau Paulet with Sir Francis himself. This was the great object of the whole contrivance. As soon as it was accomplished, the conjurer prudently decamped, before an inquiry too minute could be made into his supernatural powers. Lady Nassau Paulet had a very large fortune, I believe eighty thousand pounds, of all which Sir Francis Delaval became possessed by this marriage. Her ladyship died soon afterwards, and her fortune did not long continue to console her husband for her loss. The whole of the eighty thousand pounds he contrived soon to dissipate.' pp. 135-9.

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Sir Francis appears to have fallen a victim at last to chagrin and satiety. One great object had long filled his mind.

• The Duke of York was in love with Sir Francis Delaval's sister, Lady Stanhope. Her husband, Sir William Stanhope, was dying, and the great object was to keep the Duke's flame alive. Every body of abilities about the Duke, whom Sir Francis could influence, was engaged in supporting this project. But 'the hand of death put a stop to the scheme. The Duke of York, in a tour to Italy, went to some ball in Rome, and, after dancing 'violently, caught cold in returning to his residence, which was at a considerable distance from the place of entertainment: he was 'seized with a fever, and died.'

By the death of the Duke of York, Sir Francis found all his schemes of aggrandisement blasted. Though a man of great strength of mind, and of vivacity that seemed to be untameable, his spirits and health sunk under this disappointment. His friends and physician laughed at his complaints. Of Herculean strength, and, till this pe riod, of uninterrupted health, they could not bring themselves to believe, that a pain in his breast, of which he complained, was of any serious consequence; on the contrary, they treated him as an hypochondriac, whom a generous diet, amusement, and country air, would soon restore. He was ordered, however, to use a steam-bath, which was then in vogue, at Knightsbridge. I went with him there one day,

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