Chapter VI

It was in July, 1819, that the new school-house was opened at Edgbaston with the happiest promise. Little more than a year later it was almost destroyed by fire:—

“Everything (Rowland Hill recorded in his Journal) seemed to be
in a prosperous condition. We anticipated being shortly able
to pay all the expenses incurred in our building and removal,
when an event happened which plunged us all into the deepest
distress.

“On the morning of Wednesday, the 23rd of August, 1820, I was
awaked at five in the morning by the monitor entering my room
to take the keys of the lower rooms. I inquired what was the
time, and was glad to find that it wanted an hour of the time
at which I usually rose. I turned in my bed, and in a moment
was again asleep, little thinking of the destruction which, in
all probability, had then commenced. In about half-an-hour I
was again awaked, by two or three boys running into my room,
with the alarming information that the rooms in the roof were
on fire.

“In a moment I was in the roof rooms with my brothers, who
slept in the same chamber as myself. These rooms were even then
so full of smoke that it was difficult to discern the objects
near to us. The fire we found to be in a closet opening into
one of these rooms; the flames appeared through the crevices
of the door, which, never having been painted, appeared almost
transparent with the strong light within. The first impulse
was to endeavour to open the door and to throw in water, which
some had brought from the chambers below; but in this we did
not succeed, and, after a moment’s reflection, we gave up the
attempt, judging it best to confine the flames as much as
possible, for had the door been opened they would have burst
upon us in such a manner as to have driven us at once from
the room. The whole family had now caught the alarm. [In the
midst of the alarm Rowland Hill remembered that his eldest
brother’s wife, who, with her husband, happened to be staying
in the house, was in a delicate state of health. He went to
their room, and, quietly beckoning his brother out, in the
hope of saving her a sudden shock, told him that the house was
on fire.] After hastily slipping on a few clothes, some began
to remove the furniture from the different rooms.... In a few
moments we were all roused from a deep sleep, and plunged into
the most active and distressing employment. No one can be
surprised that at first the bustle and alarm should be such
as to prevent our taking, perhaps, the best possible means to
prevent the ravages of the fire; it has since struck us that
by taking off some of the slates it is possible that we should
have been able to throw water upon the fire and retard it,
if not put it quite out; but this was not thought of at the
moment, and the time during which there would have been any
chance of success lasted but for a few minutes.

“The first anxiety was for the safety of the boys; but, as the
fire was over their heads, alarm on that account soon subsided.
As soon as they had risen they began to throw their bedding out
at the windows, and to remove the other furniture of the rooms,
and even in the midst of all the bustle and anxiety I could
not but admire the activity and presence of mind on the part
of the boys. We are indebted to them more than to any other
individuals that the loss, though it was very great, was not
still more ruinous.”

The fire began in a closet under the roof. It was so close to the staircase that all communication with the other rooms on the attic floor was soon cut off.

“Order was somewhat restored among us—as much, perhaps, as it
could be under such circumstances; each of the elders among us
having taken the direction of certain things, with a number of
boys and others under his control, when a new cause of alarm
arose. It was recollected by my mother that one of the servant
girls, with a poor woman who came the day before to do some
sewing, slept in the bed which I have mentioned [it was a bed
in one of the roof rooms, which was occasionally used by sewing
and washing women], and it was found that the girl only had
escaped. I was at the front of the house giving directions
respecting the procuring of water when I learnt this alarming
news. I immediately ran upstairs, passed my father, who was
then on his way to rescue the woman, and who generously tried
to prevent my going by taking the risk upon himself; rushed
through the room in which was the fire into the next, and,
taking the woman from the bed, on which she lay in a fainting
fit, carried her in my arms to the top of the stairs. I could
do no more: although the whole was but the work of a minute,
such was the effect of the alarm and of the dense smoke which
I had breathed, that I loosed her, and she was caught by those
who stood upon the stairs. I myself staggered down one or two
steps, and should have fallen had I not been caught by one of
those who stood about. A few minutes were sufficient for me to
recover my strength. How the woman revived I do not know, but I
saw her soon after, apparently well, watching the furniture at
the front of the house.

“It afterwards appeared that the girl, awaked by the smoke,
called her bedfellow, ran downstairs and alarmed those who
slept on the first floor, about the same time that the
discovery was made by the boy who slept under the closet,
and who saw the fire as he lay in bed, through a ventilator
in the ceiling which opened through the floor of the closet.
The woman, instead of following her companion, actuated by
one of those inexplicable motives which sometimes influence
the conduct of the uneducated, remained in the room very
deliberately dressing herself, and I afterwards learned
that when I carried her out of the room her stays were very
regularly laced. When she did attempt an escape, owing to her
alarm, her want of knowledge of the arrangement of the rooms,
and the density of the smoke, she was unable to find the door,
and, after groping about the room some time, she said that she
‘threw herself on the bed, and gave herself up for lost.’ Next
to effecting her escape, or making some noise which would have
alarmed those who were about, throwing herself on the bed was
the best thing; for had she been elsewhere I never should have
found her, as the smoke was so thick that I could not discover
a single object in the room, and only found the bed by knowing
its situation from having been frequently in the room. If we
had known at the time we were in the next room, immediately
after the first alarm, that she was there, she would have been
rescued without any difficulty. The poor woman’s obstinacy cost
her her life, for although she was not in the least burnt, yet
such was the effect of the smoke upon her lungs, together with
the alarm, that the next day she became exceedingly ill, and
although we procured for her the best medical advice the town
afforded, she died in a few days. The surgeon who attended her
said that she died of a disease to which she had long been
subject, an enlargement of the heart, which was brought on in
this instance by the causes I have before stated.

“The engines arrived shortly after. I had provided for them a
stock of water by placing some large tubs in the front of the
house, which we filled with water before the engines came. One
of our pumps was undergoing repairs at the time, so that it did
not afford us any water. The other very soon became dry; but
we found an excellent supply from a pit a little nearer to the
town, on the right side of the road. Five men, for the promise
of five shillings each, stood in the water to fill the buckets,
and such was the rapidity of the supply, that not one of the
engines was for an instant without water.

“By about eight the engines ceased to play—the fire was
extinguished. Till this time so actively had I been engaged,
that I believe I had not time to reflect upon the consequences
of this accident. But now all was over. Exertion was no further
of any use. In informing my father that such was the state of
things, my throat felt as stopped, and the tears came to my
eyes. I went upstairs, and to the top of the house. The whole
of the roof, excepting that part over the school-room, was
destroyed. Two or three of the beams, reduced to charcoal,
remained in their places, and a few of the slates still rested
upon some of the bending rafters; the rest was bare to the sky.
In some places the rubbish was still smoking. To extinguish
this completely, and to search every place to be certain
that all was safe, occupied my attention for a time; but the
consideration of the probable effect this accident might have
on our future success would obtrude itself on my mind. We had
insured the house and furniture, but for a small sum; the first
for £500, the latter for £250, and I soon saw that the loss
would be considerable.

“In order to throw the water immediately upon the fire, we
raised a ladder which had been made a few months before to be
in readiness in case of such an accident. Up this the firemen
carried their pipes, and played almost directly upon the
flames.”

Among the firemen on the crumbling roof, directing and aiding them, was his brother Edwin. “Observing that one of the men had difficulty in reaching a place where the flames remained unsubdued, he seized one of the largest slates, and so held it as to deflect the stream, all this being done while his bride stood in anxiety below.”

“Another pipe was carried up the stairs, and threw its water
upon the fire through an opening over the back stairs. This
engine was very effective, till a scoundrel (and there were
several about who took advantage of the confusion to plunder
the house), in order to make the confusion still greater,
stamped upon the pipe and burst it. A fireman who saw this,
took a short staff out of his pocket and gave the fellow a
blow on his head, which sent him completely downstairs. I did
not know of this till after the fire was over and the rascal
had escaped, otherwise he should have been dealt with as he
deserved. I cannot think of any crime which so completely
shows the absence of all good feeling as to take advantage of
another’s misfortunes, and even to increase them for the sake
of plunder.

“It was necessary to do much immediately. We had all risen
in the greatest haste, and were but half-dressed. The poor
boys had lost all their clothes, except such as were on their
backs, and some which were then at the washerwoman’s,—for
their trunks, which were kept in one of the roof rooms, were
destroyed. We were all wet, hungry, tired, and distressed.
The house was completely swilled throughout with the immense
quantity of water which had been thrown upon it, so that it was
impossible to inhabit it immediately. Our family consisted of
almost eighty individuals, who were at that moment houseless.
The kindness of our friends and neighbours, however, soon
relieved us of part of our anxiety. They provided us with clean
linen, shoes, and everything we could want. A lady who keeps
a female school on the opposite side of the road, kindly lent
the boys a change of stockings. Our good friend, Miss Bache,
came with her servants laden with food for breakfast, which was
eaten by some in the garden. One or two gentlemen undertook the
care of the house and furniture; others led away the people
who had assisted to the ‘Plough and Harrow,’ where they were
refreshed with bread and cheese and ale, and all pressed us to
leave the place for a time and recruit our strength. The boys
were divided amongst the neighbours, who took them to their
houses. Mr. and Mrs. Busby, than whom kinder-hearted people
never existed, claimed a right to receive our own family, as
being the nearest neighbours. Here we breakfasted. It was a sad
meal, each trying to appear as little affected as possible, in
order to keep up the spirits of the others. If anything could
have removed our distress, it would have been accomplished
by the kindness of our friends, which no doubt did very much
to alleviate it. Invitations for ourselves and the boys—not
only from our immediate friends, but also from gentlemen whose
names we scarcely knew,—poured in upon us, and if our family
had been ten times as numerous, they would have been disposed
of with greater ease than was the case; for the offers of
assistance were so earnest and so numerous, that it was painful
to be obliged to refuse such as we could not accept.

“Our friend, Mr. Witton, offered us the use of the whole of his
house at Kitwell ready furnished. Mr. Blakeway, another of our
friends, made an offer, which we gladly accepted, of a house
of his in Tenant Street, which then stood empty. In this we
determined to put up the beds, most of which had been saved,
and use it as a lodging-house till our own could be repaired.

“We were anxious to inform the friends of the children as soon
as possible of the accident, in order to prevent that alarm
which the exaggerated accounts in the first instance generally
circulated on such an occasion would raise. This was undertaken
by a friend; but, notwithstanding the precaution, the good
people of Kidderminster, from which town we had several boys,
were terribly alarmed. An uncle of a boy named H——, whose
friends reside at Kidderminster, happened to be in Birmingham
at the time of the fire. As soon as the news reached him,
he wrote to his sister (the boy’s mother), to prevent any
uneasiness which she might have felt had she heard a wrong
account from another quarter. In his haste he incautiously made
use of the following expression: ‘Hazelwood is burnt down,
but Henry is safe.’ The report was immediately circulated in
Kidderminster that the house was burnt down, and that all the
boys except H—— were burnt. The friends of the other children
were in a state of the greatest anxiety. The father of one of
the boys immediately rode over in the greatest haste. He was
soon followed by another. I need not say how glad they were to
see their children.

“During the course of the day the friends of many of the
children arrived, and took their sons home. This, though it
relieved us of the care of them, made us anxious whether
an impression might not get abroad, that either we were
particularly careless or very unlucky; the more so, as an
alarm of the same kind, sufficient to induce us to send
for the engines, although they had nothing to do when they
arrived, took place the winter before. We now began to place
the furniture in the school-room and the chamber over, as this
part of the house had not been injured by the fire or the
water. Some also took precautions to defend the house from
further injury by rain. To accomplish this, we borrowed a great
quantity of tarpaulin from the different carriers in the town,
by means of which a temporary roof was constructed. I engaged
a number of men to remove the rubbish which had fallen with the
roof and ceilings upon the floors of the garrets, and to riddle
it in order that nothing valuable might be lost. The quantity
of rubbish collected amounted to several wagon-loads. Frederic,
and I slept at night in the school-room to guard the house.
We had also a watchman on the outside. The other part of the
family slept at the neighbours’ houses.

“The next day the family again assembled at dinner at the house
of my brother Edwin. We now made arrangements for restoring
things as soon as possible. One undertook the repairs of the
building; another those of the furniture; one to make out the
account for the Fire Office; another to prepare the house
in Tenant Street. Printed circular-letters were sent to our
friends as soon as possible, expressive of our gratitude
for the kindness we had met with, and stating our intention
of resuming the business of the school on the Thursday
following—that is, eight days after the fire.

“Besides the injury done to the roof, the floors of the rooms
in that part of the house, and the garret ceilings, were almost
completely destroyed. The garret floors were much injured by
the burning wood which fell upon them, and they doubtless would
have been destroyed altogether, but that persons were engaged,
at a considerable risk, in throwing water upon the blazing
timbers as they fell, before the engines arrived. The walls and
ceilings of the lower rooms were also much injured by the water.

“The school assembled on the day appointed. Till the roof was
completed the boys slept in Tenant Street; when that was done
they occupied the chambers of the house, a part of our own
family sleeping from home. It was not till Christmas that we
were enabled to reinstate everything.

“Among the things destroyed in the flames, almost every one
of us has lost something which he valued highly. My brother
Arthur has lost the accounts of some tours which he has taken
at various times; Howard has lost a copy of Mavor’s ‘British
Tourist,’ which he gained as a prize in the school. But in
things of that description I have been the greatest sufferer. I
have lost all my original drawings, six in number, which were
framed and glazed. I made these drawings when I was quite a
boy, and for that reason I valued them. At Hill Top they hung
in the parlour, but when we removed they were put in one of the
roof rooms till a convenient opportunity should occur to hang
them up. The electrical planisphere, representing the southern
sky, and the water-alarum, both of which I have described in
these memoirs, were consumed in the flames. I valued these
because they were the best specimens I possessed of my boyish
handicraft.

“I have not yet lost the impression which this accident made
upon my mind. My sleep is frequently broken by dreaming of
fire; when awake I often suppose that I smell smoke; and it is
not till I am out of bed that I can convince myself that I have
been deceived. It is remarkable that at the present time, and,
indeed, immediately after the fire, I remembered but little of
what took place; although the roof fell in, and the flames were
seen at a great distance from the house, I have no recollection
of noticing either; yet I was more than once on different parts
of the roof, giving directions to the firemen.”

He thus accounts for the origin of the fire:—

“Upon making known the situation of things as they stood
previous to the fire, it was suggested by some one that it
might have originated thus. I have before said that a great
quantity of carpeting, old and new, lay in the closet. An old
Brussels carpet was folded up and placed on the floor of the
closet; on this lay a roll of new Scotch carpet; and the whole
was surmounted by a number of empty paper hat-boxes. This being
the state of things, and the closet having no ceiling, it is
very probable that during the heavy rains which fell a short
time previous, some of the water might penetrate through the
roof and wet the carpets. The rain was succeeded by some of the
hottest weather I ever remember. The heat immediately under
the slates would be very great; and we were told that Brussels
carpeting, which is composed partly of hemp and partly of wool,
if wet and afterwards exposed to heat, will ferment and fire
spontaneously, in the manner that hay sometimes does. This
opinion, upon inquiry, we found to be confirmed by experience.
A ship in the Mediterranean took fire from the fermentation
of some wet ropes stowed in the hold. A relation of ours, a
builder, had his premises partly destroyed by the fermentation
of a quantity of hair for plaster, placed under a shed. He
knows this to have been the cause, from the circumstance of the
hair’s smoking having been noticed the day preceding.”

He discusses the question of insurance:—

“The question whether or not it is wise to insure, and to what
amount, appears to me a very difficult one. If a person’s
property be such that the loss of his house and furniture would
not be a ruinous injury, then it appears to me it would be
absurd for him to insure, because more than half the premium
consists of duty to the Government, and by becoming his own
insurance broker he saves that sum and the profit also. It
appears to me also to be bad policy to insure to a great
amount, because by a strange arrangement in all insurance
offices, the sum paid for damage is not estimated, as it ought
to be, by considering what proportion the damage bears to the
whole value of the building, and paying the sufferer the same
fraction of the insurance. Thus, if a house be worth £1,000,
and is insured for £100, if the building is damaged to the
amount of £100, the office will pay the whole of that sum;
whereas I should say it ought to pay only the tenth part of
£100—that is, £10; for the rate of insurance upon a large sum
is no less than that upon a small one, and the probability of
a house being injured to the amount of £100 is greater than
the chance of its being injured to the amount of £200, still
greater than the chance of its sustaining an injury to the
amount of £300, and so on.

“It was reasoning in this manner that induced me to insure
for so small a sum; but I forgot that our risk was greater
than that of our neighbours, in consequence of so many persons
residing under the same roof. For this reason, and because
we should not be equally well able to bear a second loss, we
have now insured to a much greater amount; but I am not sure
that we were not right before, and are mistaken now, because
the circumstance of our having been unfortunate is no proof of
error, any more than the gaining a prize in the lottery is a
proof of the propriety of purchasing a ticket.

“Some people have very strange ideas about insurance from fire.
They appear to think that it actually prevents a fire taking
place. Birmingham furnishes a remarkable instance of an error
of this kind. The workhouse, which is the property of the
whole town, is insured in the Birmingham Fire Office, which is
supported by a comparatively small number of individuals. I
wonder whether the company insures its own office? Perhaps it
does in another—or perhaps in its own!”

He fails, as it seems to me, to take into account that freedom from daily anxiety which a man buys who insures his property to its full value, or something not much short of it. His eldest brother told me that, at one time of his life, he himself was so much troubled by the thought that if he died early he should leave his young wife and children but ill provided for that his health became affected, and his power of work was lessened. His dread of poverty was, therefore, tending to keep him poor. He insured his life heavily, and at once regained his cheerfulness. He had paid, he added, in his long life far more in premiums than his children would ever receive back on his death. This outlay, nevertheless, he looked upon as a real money gain to him. It had given him freedom from care, and this freedom had greatly helped to increase his earnings.

In the summer of 1821, Rowland Hill and his next brother, Arthur, crossed over to Ireland, to inspect the Edgeworth-Town Assisting School. This curious institution had been lately founded by Lovell Edgeworth, the brother of Maria Edgeworth. On their way the travellers passed through Manchester. There for the first time they saw a whole town lighted by gas. Between Liverpool and Dublin steamboats ran during the summer months. None ventured as yet to cross the winter seas. The fares were high—a guinea and a-half for the passage. The sailing packets charged but seven shillings; and it was in one of them that the two brothers crossed over. On landing they had to undergo the Custom House examination, as Import Duties were still kept up between the two islands. Two packets arrived almost at the same time, but there was only one officer to examine all the baggage. There were fees to pay; and overcharge was rendered easy by the difference that still subsisted between English and Irish money.

During their stay in Dublin they drove out with an Irish barrister to see the Dargle. “We found,” wrote the younger of the two brothers—

“A line of bushes laid across the road into the grounds, and
were told by men working on the spot that we could not pass,
the place being under preparation for the King’s visit. Had we
been alone we should have either turned back or tried the power
of a bribe; but our Irish friend knew better; and after one or
two cajoling phrases, which moved not very much, proceeded to
‘damn the King!’ The effect was complete, a gap being at once
made, through which we passed, while one of the men remarked
that others had applied, speaking of the King in high terms,
but all those had been turned back.”

One evening they saw the general departure of the mails for the provinces. They expected, as a matter of course, to find the guard of each coach armed, as in England, with a blunderbuss; but they found that he carried, in addition, a sword and pistols, while some of the coaches had two guards, and others even three. They left Dublin for Edgeworth-Town on a Sunday morning. For the first time in their life they heard bells rung from churches that did not belong to the Establishment.

Rowland Hill’s Journal contains an interesting account of this tour:—

“On the road to Edgeworth-Town we were struck with the
miserable state of the poor Irish. Many live in huts without
either window or chimney, the door serving every purpose of
ingression and of egression. The poor women and children were
generally without shoes and stockings; the men, however, almost
always wear both, and even in the midst of summer appear
dressed in great coats. Though Sunday, we saw many parties
dancing in the roads and fields, the men in their great coats,
and carts and wagons passed along apparently as much as on any
other day. Every time the coach stopped it was surrounded by
beggars, apparently in the lowest possible state of misery.

“With a few exceptions, everything appears to be neglected. The
land is miserably cultivated, and worse fenced, and the houses
seem falling into ruin. You see gates with one hinge, and no
fastening, tied up by means of ropes or haybands; windows
reduced from a proper size to a single pane of glass, the
remainder of the window, as it was broken, having been stopped
up with a flat stone, a piece of wood, plaster, or a turf. In
many places half the houses are in a state of ruin, and quite
uninhabited. We learned that many had been reduced to this
state at the time of the riots.”

At Edgeworth-Town they lodged in the best inn of which the place could boast. Nevertheless under the bed they found put away a store of old shoes:—

“After breakfast we went with Mr. Edgeworth to see his school.
It consists of about 160 boys, of all classes, from the sons
of beggars to the children of some of the most wealthy men in
the neighbourhood. They are classed without any distinction
but that of merit, and to destroy every difference in
appearance, all the boys wore pinafores as a kind of uniform.
Out of school, however, some distinction is made. The sons of
gentlemen and respectable tradesmen have a separate playground,
and the boarders are divided among two or three houses,
according to their rank in society.

“About three-fourths of the boys had neither shoes nor
stockings, but they all appeared clean, happy, and contented.

“The plan of the school in some measure resembles the
Lancasterian, only that Mr. Edgeworth accomplishes much more
than I have ever seen done in a Lancasterian school. Every
boy pays a little for his education—viz., from 1_d._ to 5_d._
per week, according to his circumstances. Mr. Edgeworth has
a nursery of four or five acres, in which the poor boys are
allowed to work, in order to enable them to pay for their
education, for the washing of their pinafores, &c. There
are two masters with salaries, one of whom has the general
superintendence of the school in Mr. Edgeworth’s absence, the
other teaches the classics. The weekly payments of the boys
defray every expense of the establishment, except the rent,
within about a hundred a year. The boarders pay the masters of
the houses at which they lodge for all expenses attending their
maintenance.”

So eager were some of the boys to earn money by working over-time, that Mr. Edgeworth was forced to limit the hours of this kind of labour. A penalty was fixed for any one who should venture to begin work before the appointed time. Shortly before the arrival of the two visitors, a boy had been found on a summer morning hard at work as early as two o’clock. He was saving up money to buy his mother a garment of which she stood greatly in need. Not only was the breach of rule forgiven, but high honour was done to the young offender. “The mode taken was characteristic alike of man and country. When the required sum was made up, and the garment purchased, this being hung from the top of a pole, was borne in triumph through the single street of the town, all the boys marching in procession, with their landlord at their head.”

“The boys, as far as we could ascertain in the course of a
week’s close inspection, are exceedingly orderly, attentive,
and well behaved. Mr. Edgeworth states that he finds the
children of the peasantry much more docile than those of
gentlemen, and the English more tractable than the Irish.

“The hay-harvest was now about, and the boys spent considerable
part of the day in the park making the hay. They worked in
classes, under the direction of monitors, and proceeded with
the utmost order and regularity; they very soon turned the
grass of several acres.

“Mr. Edgeworth spends a good deal of time in joking with his
boys. We saw him act before them the drunken, idle, low, but
shrewd Irishman, and many other characters for the instruction
and entertainment of his boys. They laugh with him, and, for
the time, master and scholars appear to be on the most familiar
terms.

“On Wednesday we dined at Mr. Edgeworth’s house: there is
something highly fascinating in the company of celebrated
people. In conversing with Miss Edgeworth, I felt that I
was renewing, as it were, an old acquaintance; for who is
there to whom she is altogether unknown? I must acknowledge,
however, that my introduction to her was not made without some
trepidation on my part, but so kind, so unassuming is her
manner, that in a very short time I felt almost entirely at my
ease in her company. I could not, however, quite rid myself of
the feeling that I was in the company of one who had shown by
her works that she could detect, and that she noticed every
little symptom of weakness which to a common eye might pass
unobserved. I was uneasy lest she should discover the defects
in my education before I could take an opportunity of alluding
to them, as is my custom in similar cases. Miss Edgeworth is
a short, sprightly woman, without any of the affectation of
politeness, but with much that is real. One is apt to suppose
that a person of celebrity must always appear as though a high
character was to be supported; there is nothing of this kind
about Miss Edgeworth; she is exceedingly lively, and even
playful in her manner, and seems to have not the slightest
objection to a good joke.”

“I still esteem it,” writes the surviving brother, “one of the greatest honours of my life to have sat next to her at dinner by her own desire. To me, and doubtless to my brother Rowland also, the interview with this admirable woman savoured of romance. As an abstraction, she had long been to every member of our family an object of respect amounting to reverence. Her works had been to us a source of delight, of instruction, of purity, and of elevation, but herself seemed indefinitely removed, and we could hardly believe that we were now actually in her presence, and admitted to friendly intercourse.”

“On Saturday I gave Mr. Edgeworth some parts of the rough
draft of ‘Public Education’ to read, which I had taken with me
to Ireland. He desired one of his monitors to take it to his
house, and leave it in his bedchamber, stating that he always
lay in bed till the middle of the day on Sunday, and that he
could read it before he arose in the morning.

“On Sunday morning, after our return from church, Mr. Edgeworth
sent to request our attendance at his school. We found the
boys all drawn up in divisions, and several gentlemen from the
neighbourhood were present. We joined Mr. Edgeworth, who stood
on a kind of stage formed by the stairs. He began a speech to
his boys on the subject of the papers which I had lent him to
read, in which he spoke in the most extravagant terms of what
he had read. He was sure that we had carried the science of
education to a perfection never before aimed at; he considered
himself highly flattered by our visit to his school, but felt
ashamed that we had not been better repaid for our trouble. He
hoped we would allow him to return the visit, as he was sure
nothing would delight him so much as a complete knowledge of
our plans.

“After he had concluded, he requested that I would honestly
state my opinions respecting his school, and he insisted
on my finding fault with something or other. I now felt
the convenience of having been practised at extemporaneous
speaking: for called upon as I was to address a great number
of individuals, without any previous notice or opportunity of
arranging and collecting my thoughts, and immediately after Mr.
Edgeworth had spoken in the highest terms of a work which, till
I afterwards undeceived him, he considered as entirely my own
production, and for which he lauded my powers in an extravagant
degree, I should not have been able to utter a single connected
sentence, had not former practice rendered that easy which,
without practice, is to some altogether impossible.

“In the evening we dined at Mr. Edgeworth’s. On entering the
library we found Miss Edgeworth reading ‘Public Education.’
She spoke of it in less extravagant but not in less pleasing
terms than her brother. She had read the greater part, and with
the highest delight. Upon her complimenting me as the author,
I informed her that I had written but a small part, and that
my elder brother was the principal author. She then spoke with
less restraint of the merits of the book, and said that it
reflected the highest credit on the writer, whoever he might
be. That her praise was not the unmeaning stuff of common-place
compliment I am sure, for it was not uniform. She objected to
some parts, which she advised us to alter. She had made notes
with her pencil as she read the book, which she pointed out to
us. Most of her suggestions we have adopted; a few which did
not meet our views, after mature deliberation we have ventured
to disregard. One part of the work contains a compliment to
Miss Edgeworth, written, as I could not help telling her for my
own credit, before we had any intention of visiting Ireland. It
is in speaking of our obligations to her as the author of so
many excellent tales for children. The name of her father had
been coupled with hers, but was afterwards crossed out from the
belief that the tales were almost entirely her own production.
This she had noticed, and, with tears in her eyes, requested
that his name might be restored, stating that he had materially
assisted her in all her productions, and that she wished never
to be considered separately from him....

“I cannot describe the restless activity of Mr. Edgeworth. This
evening he displayed more character than I had before had an
opportunity of observing. Let it be remembered that this was
Sunday evening.

“We did not sit down to dinner till after seven o’clock. So
long as the ladies remained in the room Mr. Edgeworth kept some
curb on his spirits. He was the complete gentleman, behaving
with the greatest respect towards his female relations,
and, indeed, towards every one at the table. As soon as the
barbarous custom now in vogue had driven the ladies to the
drawing-room, Mr. Edgeworth invited us to draw our chairs
together. The butler was ordered to bring some bottles of a
particular claret, which he told us was better than nectar. A
toast was proposed, and we proceeded to the business of the
evening, Mr. Edgeworth for some time watching very carefully
to see there was no unnecessary display of ‘daylight.’ Between
every toast, Mr. E. spoke in the most extravagant terms of
our book; and ‘Hazelwood School,’ ‘Mr. Hill and family,’ ‘The
author of the book,’ &c., were toasted with all due solemnity.
We did not fail to return thanks, and to propose ‘The
Edgeworth-Town Assisting School,’ ‘Miss Edgeworth,’ &c.

“I must remark that in the morning he had asked me many
questions respecting our band, and had expressed to his
boys his earnest wish that a band should be formed in his
school. Some of the boys, it was stated, could already play a
little upon the flute. Mr. Edgeworth desired them to perfect
themselves with all possible despatch.

“In the midst of our jollification, as we sat with the windows
open, we heard two flutes playing a quick tune in the town. Mr.
Edgeworth was delighted with this, and immediately sent one
of his servants to fetch the players, whoever they might be.
The man soon returned with two of the scholars, who had been
parading up and down the street without shoes and stockings,
and marching to their own music. We immediately adjourned to a
kind of conservatory, into which the dining-room opened, where,
after giving us another tune, the boys joined us in drinking
‘Success to the band.’ ... Delighted with every one, and with
himself in particular, Mr. Edgeworth got into the most playful
humour. Sometimes, after a toast, he directed we should join
hands all round, then cross them, &c.... At about midnight, he
proposed that we should go to the school-house, and see how
things went on there. He opened a back door, which let us at
once into the street. The key of this door he always kept about
him, as he said, that he might go out and inspect the state
of the town at any hour of the night without disturbing his
family. This he frequently does, going into people’s houses in
disguise,—in imitation, I suppose, of the hero of the Arabian
tales. The butler was sent forward to call up O’Brien, the
classical teacher of the school, and Steele, one of the head
monitors. He was cautioned, at the same time, not to forget
the good things which were under his care.... Steele, who,
though a young man of genteel appearance, is the son of a poor
bricklayer, sallied forth from a small cottage, and met us in
the street. Both he and O’Brien had been in bed. Mr. Edgeworth,
like most men who are occasionally very familiar with their
inferiors, is very tenacious of his rank and authority. Poor
Steele was desired to relate a story—of which the length very
far exceeded the interest—about a silver trowel which had been
presented by Mr. Edgeworth to Steele’s father, on account of
his having had the honour to open the family vault at the time
of the death of the late Mr. Edgeworth. The young man, as was
natural enough when we consider that he had been called out of
a warm bed, and was now standing in the street at midnight,
began his relation with his head covered. Mr. Edgeworth
immediately ordered him to take off his hat, and even made him
put it on the ground.

“At the school-house, after carefully satisfying ourselves that
all the boys were safely roosted, we proceeded much in the same
manner as at Mr. Edgeworth’s house. O’Brien and Steele were
asked by him if they knew any good songs, and they accordingly
favoured us with some of their best.

“Shortly after, Mr. Edgeworth, as though a thought had suddenly
struck him, cried out that he should uncommonly like a
beefsteak. Most of us agreed that it would be a good thing; but
Arthur, who had been rather fidgetty most of the evening, could
stand it no longer, and accordingly made good his retreat to
the inn. For my own part, I cannot say that I receive the least
true pleasure from parties like this; but, as every one must
occasionally join in them, I think it best to make oneself as
comfortable as possible under all the circumstances, and not to
attempt to swim against the stream.

“The mistress of the house, who I afterwards learned had been
in bed, was now summoned, and questioned as to the possibility
of satisfying our wishes. Fortunately she was provided with
the means, and at about two o’clock we sat down to a beefsteak
supper. After supper, Mr. Edgeworth commenced an oration in
praise of his butler’s grandmother, who had been remarkable for
many good qualities. The glasses were filled, the butler was
furnished with one, and with the utmost solemnity we drank to
the memory of the worthy grandmother....

“The next day we took our leave of the Edgeworths. Miss
Edgeworth had now read the whole of the book. She spoke of its
excellences in the same terms as before, but she objected to
some parts of our plan. She is afraid that the republicanism
of the school may be alarming, and advises that this part
should be made less prominent. She says she is afraid that
parents will dread the republican spirit which our system must
infuse among the boys. I think she has too much good sense to
think this an evil in itself—indeed, she spoke of it only as a
matter of prudence as regards ourselves. She, perhaps, may be
right, but I think that we may venture; because, in the first
place, the republican tendency of our plans is very far from
obvious, and there are very few Miss Edgeworths to find it out.
And again, I think people are now beginning to be a little
enlightened on the subject, and that we shall soon be on the
popular side of the question, even with that class which it is
our interest to please.”

On their way back to Dublin, the travellers overheard two Irishmen discussing the career of Napoleon, tidings of whose death had lately arrived. One of them maintained that the failure of his Russian campaign was altogether due to a premature setting-in of the monsoons. The other modestly remarked that he had always understood that these winds were known only on the Indian Ocean. “Yes,” replied the first; “but that year they blew a _tremendious_ long way inland, carrying with them prodigious cold.”

The brothers took the steam-packet from Dublin to Holyhead. “The captain told them that his company intended to attempt running it throughout the next winter; and cautiously remarked that he thought in a storm a steamer might even have some advantages over a sailing-vessel.”

In the summer of the following year (1822), Rowland Hill again visited the Isle of Wight, accompanied by two of his younger brothers:—

“While in the Isle of Wight, I visited a cave in the side of an
immensely high cliff. This cave is called the Hermit’s Hole.
The only road to it is along a narrow path leading from the top
of the cliff. This path is steep and narrow, and the descent
is somewhat dangerous, as a slip would inevitably precipitate
a person down the cliff, a height of about seven hundred
feet, into the sea which roars below. Travellers in the Isle
of Wight speak in strange terms of this cave. One says ‘the
mere thought of such an adventure (that of visiting the cave)
is enough to shake the strongest nerves;’ and he recommends no
one to venture, as ‘the path is so narrow that it is impossible
to turn round, consequently a person who should set out must
go all the way.’ I believe I am naturally cowardly. I have,
however, I hope educated myself to face danger as well as most
men. I therefore feel a pleasure and an interest in voluntarily
putting my courage to the test, and I am proud when I find
I can do that which other people pronounce to be difficult.
Arthur would not venture to the edge of the cliff; but, after
taking off my coat, I proceeded down the path, followed by
Frederic. At first the path is protected by a projecting rock,
which forms a kind of breastwork on the sea side, but after a
few yards there is no protection whatever. I found the path
better than I had expected; but it is very steep and narrow,
and, besides slanting in length towards the cave, has a side
slant towards the sea. There were several loose stones upon
it, which made the danger so much the greater; some of these
upon the least touch fell into the sea. It was with some
difficulty I overcame an involuntary feeling of the necessity
of leaping after them. The cave has nothing in itself to repay
the danger of reaching it: the whole pleasure, indeed, consists
in the danger overcome. Notwithstanding the accounts given
by travellers, I turned back two or three times to see for
Frederic. He ventured the greater part of the way; but when he
came to a place where the path turned round a projecting part
of the cliff, his courage failed him, and he hurried back. I
must confess, however, that he accomplished more than I could
have done at his age. I think the path was about twenty yards
in length.”