of rent he found
himself not only in difficulty, but in actual peril.

There existed in Ireland at this time a class of persons calling
themselves gentlemen tenants--the worst tenants in the world
--middlemen, who relet the lands, and live upon the produce, not
only in idleness, but in insolent idleness.

This kind of half gentry, or mock gentry, seemed to consider it as
the most indisputable privilege of a gentleman not to pay his debts.
They were ever ready to meet civil law with military brag of war.
Whenever a swaggering debtor of this species was pressed for
payment, he began by protesting or confessing that 'he considered
himself used in an ungentlemanlike manner;' and ended by offering
to give, instead of the value of his bond or promise, 'the
satisfaction of a gentleman, at any hour or place. . . . My father,'
says Maria, 'has often since rejoiced in the recollection of his
steadiness at this period of his life. As far as the example of an
individual could go, it was of service in his neighbourhood. It
showed that such lawless proceedings as he had opposed could be
effectually resisted; and it discountenanced that braggadocio style
of doing business which was once in Ireland too much in fashion.'

CHAPTER 6

It was in 1792 that Edgeworth left Ireland, and he and his family
spent nearly two years at Clifton for the health of one of his sons.
Maria writes: 'This was the first time I had ever been with him in
what is called the world; where he was not only a useful, but a most
entertaining guide and companion. His observations upon characters,
as they revealed themselves by slight circumstances, were amusing
and just. He was a good judge of manners, and of all that related to
appearance, both in men and women. Believing, as he did, that young
people, from sympathy, imitate or catch involuntarily the habits and
tone of the company they keep, he thought it of essential
consequence that on their entrance into the world they should see
the best models. "No company or good company," was his maxim. By
good he did not mean fine. Airs and conceit he despised, as much as
he disliked vulgarity. Affectation was under awe before him from an
instinctive perception of his powers of ridicule. He could not
endure, in favour of any pretensions of birth, fortune, or fashion,
the stupidity of a formal circle, or the inanity of commonplace
conversation. . .. Sometimes, perhaps, he went too far, and at this
period of his life