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COLLECTION
OF
ANCIENT AND MODERN
BRITISH AUTHORS
VOL. LXXIX.
MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE
OF THE RIGHT HONOURABLE
RICHARD RRINSLEY SHERIDAN
PRINTED BY CBAPELET, 9, HUE I)E VAUGIRARD.
MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE
OF THE RIGHT HONOURABLE
RICHARD BRINSLEY
SHERIDAN,
THOMAS MOORE.
PARIS,
BAUDRY'S EUROPEAN LIBRARY,
M I DC COQ, HEAR TBE LOUVRE.
SOLD ALSO BY AMYOT, RUE DK LA PA!X ; TRUCHY, BOULEVARD DBS ITAL1ENS
TIIKOPIIILE BARROIS, UN., RUE DE RICHELIEU ; LIBRAIR1E DES STRANGERS,
55, RUE NEUVE SAIiYT-AUGUSTIN , AND FRENCH AND ENGLISH LIBRARY,
RUE VWKNNB.
1835.
CONTENTS.
'V
PREFACE , Page i
CHAPTER I.
Birth and education of Mr. Sheridan.— His first attempts in Literature. 5
CHAPTER II.
Duels with Mr. Mathews.— Marriage with Miss Linley 5i
CHAPTER HI.
Domestic circumstances — Fragments of Essays found among his papers.
— Comedy of " the Rivals." — Answer to "Taxation no tyranny."—
Farce of " St. Patrick's day." 55
CHAPTER IV.
The Duenna.— Purchase of Drury-Lane Theatre.— The Trip to Scarbo-
rough.—Poetical Correspondence with Mrs. Sheridan 74
CHAPTER V.
The School for Scandal 99
CHAPTER VI.
Further Purchase of Theatrical property. — Monody to the Memory of
Garrick.— Essay on metre — The Critic. — Essay on Absentees. — Poli-
tical Connections.— The " Englishman. "-Elected for Staftbrd. . ia(i
CHAPTER VII.
Unfinished Plays and Poems i4(i
CHAPTER VIII.
His first Speeches in Parliament. — Rockingham Administration. — Coali-
tion.—India Bill.— Re-elected for Stafford iGS
CHAPTER IX.
The Prince of Wales.— Financial Measures.— Mr. Pitt's East India Rill.
— Irish commercial Propositions. — Plan of the Duke of Richmond.
— Sinking Fund ' ig5
2OG0940
VJ CONTENTS.
CHAPTER X.
Charges against Mr. Hastings. — Commercial Treaty with France. — Debts
of the Prince of Wales ........ ............... 2i5
CHAPTER XI.
Impeachment of Mr. Hastings ..................... u5i
CHAPTER XII.
Death of Mr. Sheridan's Father.— Verses by Mrs. Sheridan on the Death
of her Sister, Mrs. Tickell ...................... 262
CHAPTER XIII.
Illness of the King. — Regency. — Private Life of Mr. Sheridan .... 270
CHAPTER XIV.
French Revolution. — -Mr. Burke. — His Breach with Mr. Sheridan. —
Dissolution of Parliament. — Mr. Burke and Mr. Fox. — Russian arma-
ment.— Royal Scotch Boroughs ................... 5o5
CHAPTER XV.
Death of Mrs. Sheridan ......................... 5a5
CHAPTER XVI.
Drury-Lane Theatre. — Society of " the Friends of the People." — Madame
de Genlis. — \\ ar with France. — Whig Seceders — Speeches in Par-
liament.— Death of Tickell ...................... 34i
CHAPTER XVII.
Speech in answer to Lord Mornington. — Coalition of the Whig Seceders
with Mr. Pitt. — Mr. Canning. — Evidence on the Trial of Home
Tooke. — The " Glorious First of June."— Marriage of Mr. Sheridan.—
Pamphlet of Mr. Reeves.— Debts of the Prince of Wales. -Shakspeare
Manuscripts — Trial of Stone. — Mutiny at the Nore. — Secession of
Mr. Fox from Parliament ...................... 5(>7
CHAPTER XVIII.
Play of " The Stranger." — Speeches inParliament. — Pizarro. — Ministry of
Mr.Addington.— French Institute.— Negotiations with Mr Kemble. 58;
CHAPTER XIX.
Slate of Parties.— Offer of a Place to Mr. T. Sheridan —Receivership of
the Duchy of Cornwall bestowed upon Mr. Sheridan. — Return of
Mr. Pitt to Power. — Catholic question. — Administration of Lord
GrenvillcaudMr. Fox. — Death of Mr. Fox.— Representation of West-
minster. — Dismission of the Ministry. — Theatrical Negotiation. —
Spanish Question. — Letter to the Prince .............. 4°4
CONTENTS. vij
CHAPTER XX.
Destruction of the Theatre of Drury-Lane by Fire. — Mr. Whitbread. —
Plan for a Third Theatre.— Illness of the King.— Regency.— Lord Grey
.ind Lord Grenville. — Conduct of Mr. Sheridan. — His Vindication of
himself. 43o
CHAPTER XXI.
Affairs of the new Theatre. — Mr. Whitbread — Negociations with Lord
Grey and Lord Grenville. — Conduct of Mr. Sheridan relative to the
Household.— His last Words in Parliament.— Failure at Stafford.—
Correspondence with Mr. Whitbread. — Lord Byron. — Distresses of
Sheridan.— Illness.— Death and Funeral. — General Remarks. . . 44g
PREFACE.
THE first four Chapters of this work were written
nearly seven years ago. My task was then suspended
during a long absence from England ; and it was only in
the course of the last year that I applied myself seriously
to the completion of it.
To my friend, Mr. Charles Sheridan, whose talents
and character reflect honour upon a name already so
distinguished , I am indebted for the chief part of the
materials upon which the following Memoirs of his father
are founded. I have to thank hjm, not only for this mark
of confidence, but for the delicacy with which, though
so deeply interested in the subject of my task , he has
refrained from all interference with the execution of it;
— neither he, nor any other person, beyond the Printing-
office , having ever read a single sentence of the work.
I mention this, in order that the responsibility of any
erroneous views or indiscreet disclosures, with which I
shall be thought chargeable in the course of these pages,
may not be extended to others, but rest solely with
myself.
The details of Mr. Sheridan's early life were obligingly
* PREFACE.
communicated to me by his younger sister Mrs. Lefanu ,
to whom, and to her highly gift d daughter, I offer my
best thanks for the assistance which they have afforded
me.
The obligations, of a similar nature, which I owe to
the kindness of Mr. William Linley, Doctor Bain , Mr. Bur-
gess, and others, are acknowledged with due gratitude,
in my remarks on their respective communications.
MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE
OF
THE RIGHT HONOURABLE
RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN.
CHAPTER I.
Birth and education of Mr. Sheridan. — His first attempts in Literature.
RICHARD BRINSLEY ' SHERIDAN was born in the month of Sep-
tember, 1751 , at No. 12, Dorset Street, Dublin , and baptised in
St. Mary's Church , as appears by the register of the parish , on
the fourth of the following month. His grandfather, Dr. Sheridan ,
and his father , Mr. Thomas Sheridan , have attained a celebrity ,
independent of that which he has conferred on them , by the friend-
ship and correspondence with which the former was honoured by
Swift , and the competition and even rivalry which the latter so long
maintained with Garrick. His mother, too , was a woman of consi-
derable talents, and affords one of the few instances that have occur-
red, of a female indebted for a husband to her literature; as it was a
pamphlet she wrote concerning the Dublin theatre that first attracted
to her the notice of Mr. Thomas Sheridan. Her affecting novel ,
Sidney Riddulph , could boast among its warm panegyrists Mr. Fox
and Lord North •, and in the Tale of Nourjahad she has employed
the graces of Eastern fiction to inculcate a grave and important
moral , — putting on a fairy disguise , like her own Mandane , to
deceive her readers into a taste for happiness and virtue. Besides
her two plays , The Discovery and the Dupe , — the former of which
Garrick pronounced to be " one of the best comedies he ever read,"
— she wrote a comedy also , called the Trip to Bath , which was
never either acted or published, but which has been supposed by
some of those sagacious persons , who love to look for flaws in Hie
' He was christened al&o Ly ihe name of Butler, after the Earl of Lanesborongli.
4 MEMOIRS
lilies of fame, to have passed, with her other papers , into the posses-
sion of her son , and after a transforming sleep, like that of the chry-
salis, in his hands, to have taken wing at lenglh in the brilliant
form of The Rivals. The literary labours of her husband were less
fanciful, but not, perhaps, less useful, and are chiefly upon sub-
jects connected with cducalion , lo Ihe study and profession of which
he devoted the latter part of his life. Such dignity, indeed, did his
favourite pursuit assume in his own eyes, thai he is represented
(on the authority, however, of one who was himself a schoolmaster)
to have declared, that "he would rather see his two sons al the head
of respectable academies , than one of them prime minister of Eng-
land , and the other at the head of affairs in Ireland.1'
At the age of seven years , Richard Brinsley Sheridan was , with
his elder brother, Charles Francis, placed under the tuition of
Mr. Samuel Whyte, of Graflon Street , Dublin , — an amiable and
respectable man , who , for near fifty years after, continued at the
head of his profession in that metropolis. To remember our school-
days wilh gratitude and pleasure , is a tribule al once lo Ihe zeal
and genllencss of our master, which none ever deserved more Iruly
from his pupils than Mr. Whyle , and which the writer of these
pages , who owes to lhal excellenl person all the instructions in
English literature he has ever received , is happy to take this oppor-
tunity of paying. The young Sheridans, however, were little more
than a year under his care — and it may be consoling to parents who
are in the first crisis of impatience, at the sorl of hopeless slupidily
which some children exhibil, lo know, lhat the dawn of Sheridan's
intellect was as dull and unpromising as its meridian day was bright;
nnd lhal in Ihe year 1759, he who, in less lhan Ihirty years after-
wards , held senales enchained by his eloquence and audiences fas-
cinated by his wil, was, by common consenl both of parent and pre-
replor, pronounced lo be " a mosl impenetrable dunce."
From Mr. Whyte's school Ihe boys were removed to England ,
where Mr. and Mrs. Sheridan had lately gone to reside , and in the
year 1762 Richard was sent to Harrow — Charles being kept al home
as a filter subject for the inslruclions of his father, who, by another
of Ihose calculations of poor human foresight , which the deity ,
called Evenlus by Ihe Romans , lakes such wanlon pleasure in fal-
sifying , considered his elder son as deslined lo be Ihe brighter of
Ihe Iwo stars. At Harrow, Richard was remarkable only as a very
idle , careless, but, at the same time, engaging boy, who conlrived
to win Ihe affeclion , and even admiralion , of Ihe whole school ,
both masters and pupils , by Ihe mere charm of his frank and genial
manners, and by Ihe occasional gleams of superior inlellecl , which
broke Ihrough all the indolence and indifference of his character.
OF R. B. SHERIDAN. 6
Harrow , at this time , possessed some peculiar advantages , of
which a youth like Sheridan might have powerfully availed himself.
At the head of the school was Doctor Robert Sumner, a man of fine
talents, but unfortunately one of those who have passed away with-
out leaving any trace behind, except in the admiring recollection of
their contemporaries. His taste is said to have been of a purity al-
most perfect, combining what are seldom seen together, that critical
judgment which is alive to the errors of genius , with the warm sen-
sibility that deeply feels its beauties. At the same period, the distin-
guished scholar, Dr. Parr, who, to the massy erudition of a former
age , joined all the free and enlightened intelligence of the present ,
was one of the under-masters of the school-, and both he and
Dr. Sumner endeavoured , by every method they could devise , to
awaken in Sheridan a consciousness of those powers which , under
all the disadvantages of indolence and carelessness, it was manifest
to them that he possessed. But remonstrance and encouragement
were equally thrown away upon the good-humoured but immove-
able indifference of their pupil-, and though there exist among
Mr. Sheridan's papers some curious proofs of an industry in study
for which few have ever given him credit, they are probably but
the desultory efforts of a later period of his life , to recover the loss
of that first precious time , whose susceptibility of instruction , as
well as of pleasure , never comes again.
One of the most valuable acquisitions he derived from Harrow
was that friendship, which lasted throughout his life, with Dr. Parr,
— which mutual admiration very early began , and the " idem sen-
tire de re publicd ," of course , not a little strengthened.
As this learned and estimable man has , within the last few weeks ,
left a void in the world which will not be easily filled up, I feel that
it would be unjust to my readers not to give, in his own words, the
particulars of Sheridan's school-days , with which he had the kind-
ness to favour me , and to which his name gives an authenticity and
interest too valuable on such a subject to be withheld :
" DEAR SIR , « * Hatton , August 3 , 1818.
" With the aid of a scribe I sit down to fulfil my promise about Mr.
Sheridan. There \vas little in his boyhood worth communication. He was
inferior to many of his school-fellows in the ordinary business of a school,
and I do not remember any one instance in which he distinguished him-
self by Latin or English composition , in prose or verse '. Nathaniel Hal-
hed , one of his school-fellows, wrote well in Latin and Greek. Richard
Archdall, another school - fellow , excelled in English verse. Richard-
1 li \\ill be been , however, though Dr. Pan was not aware of the circumstance,
''.it Sheridan did try his talent at English verse before he left Harrow.
6 MEMOIRS
Sheridan aspired to no rivalry with either of them. He was at the upper-
most part of the fifth form , but he never reached the sixth , and if 1
mistake not, he had no opportunity of attending the most difficult, and
the most honourable of school business, when the Greek plays were taught
—and it was the custom at Harrow to teach these at least every year. He
went through his lessons in Horace, and Virgil, and Homer well enough
for a time. But in the absence of the upper master, Doctor Sunmer , it
once fell in my way to instruct the two upper forms , and upon calling
up Dick Sheridan , I louud him not only slovenly in construing , but unu-
sually defective in his Greek grammar. Knowing him to be a clever fel-
low, I did not fail to probe and to teaze him. I stated his case with great
good-humour to the upper master, who was one of the best tempered
men in the world ; and it was agreed between us , that Richard should be
called oftener and worked more severely. The varlet was not suffered to
stand up in his place ; but was summoned to take his station near the
master's table , where the voice of no prompter could reach him ; add , in
this defenceless condition he was so harassed , that he at last gathered up
some grammatical rules , and prepared himself for his lessons. While this
tormenting process was inflicted upon him, I now and then upbraided
him. But you will take notice that he did not incur any corporal punish-
ment for his idleness : his industry was just sufficient to protect him from
disgrace. All the while Sumner and I saw in him vestiges of a superior
intellect. His eye, his countenance, his general manner, were striking.
His answers to any common question were prompt and acute. We knew
the esteem, and even admiration which, somehow or other, all his
school- fellows felt for him. He was mischievous enough , but his pranks
were accompanied by a sort of vivacity and cheerfulness, which delighted
Sumner and myself. I had much talk with him about his apple-loft, for
the supply of which all the gardens in the neighbourhood were taxed ,
and some of the lower boys were employed to furnish it. I threatened ,
but without asperity, to trace the depredators, through his associates, up
to their leader. He with perfect good-humour set me at defiance, and
I never could bring the charge home to him. All boys and all masters
were pleased with him. I often praised him as a lad of great talents,—
often exhorted him to use them well ; i>ut my exhortations were fruit-
less. I take for granted that his taste was silently improved, and that
he knew well the little which he did know. He was removed from school
loo soon by his father, who was the intimate friend of Sumner, and
whom I often met at his house. Sumner had a fine voice, fine ear, fine
taste, and, therefore, pronunciation was frequently the favourite subject
between him and Tom Sheridan. I was present at many of their discus-
sions and disputes; and sometimes took a very active part in them , — but
Richard was not present. The father, you know, was a wrong-headed,
whimsical man , and, perhaps, his scanty circumstances were one of the
reasons which prevented him from sending Richard to the University.
He must have been aware, as Sumner and I were, that Richard's mind
was not cast in any ordinary mould. I ought to have told you that Richard
when a boy was a great reader of English poetry ; but his exercises afford-
ed no proof of his proficiency. In truth, he , as a boy, was quite careless
about literary fame. I should suppose that his father, without any re-
OF R. B. SHERIDAN. 7
gular system, polished his taste, and supplied his memory with anecdotes
about our best writers in our Augustan age. The grandfather, you
know, lived familiarly with Swift. I have heard of him, as an excellent
scholar. His boys in Ireland once performed a Greek play, and when Sir
William Jones and 1 were talking over this event, I determined to make
the experiment in England. I selected some of my best boys, and they
performed the OEdipus Tyrannus, and the Trachinians of Sophocles. I
\vrote some Greek Iambics to vindicate myself from the imputation of
singularity, and grieved I am that I did not keep a copy of them. Milton,
you may remember, recommends what I attempted.
'* I saw much of Sheridan's father after the death of Sumner, and after
my own removal from Harrow to Stanmer. I respected him, — he really
liked me, and did me some important services, but I never met him and
Richard together. I often enquired about Richard , and , from the fa-
ther's answers , found they were not upon good terms , — but neither he
nor I ever spoke of his son's talents but in terms of the highest praise."
In a subsequent letter Dr. Parr says : —
" I referred you to a passage in the Gentleman's Magazine, where I
am represented as discovering and encouraging in Richard Sheridan
those intellectual powers, which had not been discovered and encouraged
by Sumner. But the statement is incorrect. We both of us discovered
talents, which neither of us could bring into action while Sheridan was
a school-boy. He gave us few opportunities of praise in the course of his
school-business, and yet he was well aware that we thought highly of
him, and anxiously wished more to+e done by him than he was dis-
posed to do.
" I once or twice met his mother, — she was quite celestial. Both her
virtues and her genius were highly esteemed by Robert Sumner. I know
not whether Tom Sheridan found Richard tractable in the art of speak-
ing,— and, upon such a subject, indolence or indifference would have
been resented by the father as crimes quite inexpiable. One of Richard's
sisters now and then visited Harrow, and well do I remember that, in
the house where I lodged, she triumphantly repeated Dryden's Ode upon
St. Cecilia's Day, according to the instruction given to her by her father.
Take a sample :—
None but the brave ,
None but the brave ,
None but the brave deserve the fair. "
Whatever may have been the zeal or the proficiency of the sister, naughty
Richard, like Gallio, seemed to care nought for these things.
" In the later periods of his life Richard did not cast behind him clas-
sical reading. He spoke copiously and powerfully about Cicero. He had
read, and he had understood, the four orations of Demosthenes read and
taught in our public schools. He was at home in Virgil and in Horace. I
cannot speak positively about Homer, — but I am very sure that he read
the Iliad now and then; not as a professed scholar would do, critically,
but with all the strong sympathies of a poet reading a poet '. Richard
1 II was not oue of the least of the liiunij>hs of Sheridan's talent, to hav* been
8 MEMOIRS
did not , and could not forget what he once knew, but his path to know-
ledge was his own , — his steps were noiseless, — his progress was scarcely
felt by himself, — his movements were rapid but irregular.
" Let me assure you that Richard, when a boy, was by no means vi-
cions. The sources of his infirmities were a scanty and precarious allow-
ance from the father, the want of a regular plan for some profession ,
and, above all, the act of throwing him upon the town, when he ought
to have been pursuing his studies at the University. He would have done
little among mathematicians at Cambridge ; — he would have been a rake,
or an idler, or a trifler, at Dublin ; — but I am inclined to think that at
Oxford he would have become an excellent scholar.
"I have now told you all that I know, and it amounts to very little. 1
am very solicitous for justice to be done to Robert Sumner. He is one of
the six or seven persons among my own acquaintance , whose taste I am
accustomed to consider perfect, and were he living, his admiration *
During the greater part of Richard's stay at Harrow, his father
had been compelled by the embarrassment of his affairs to reside
with the remainder of the family in France , and it was at Blois , in
the September of 1766, that Mrs. Sheridan died— leaving behind
her that best kind of fame , which results from a life of usefulness
and purity, and which it requires not the aid of art or eloquence to
blazon. She appears to have been one of those rare women, who ,
united to men of more prelAsions but less real intellect than
themselves , meekly conceal this superiority even from their own
hearts , and pass their lives , without a remonstrance or murmur,
in gently endeavouring to repair those evils which the indiscretion
or vanity of their partners has brought upon them.
As a supplement to (he interesting communication of Doctor
Parr, I shall here subjoin an extract from a letter, which the eldest
sister of Sheridan , Mrs. E. Lefanu , wrote a few months after his
death to Mrs. Sheridan , in consequence of a wish expressed by the
tatter, that Mrs. Lefanu would communicate such particulars as she
remembered of his early days. It will show, too, the feeling which
his natural good qualities , in spite of the errors by which they were
obscured and weakened , kept alive to the last , in the hearts of
those connected with him, that sort of retrospective affection,
which , when those whom we have loved become altered , whether
in mind or person, brings the recollection of what they once were,
to mingle with and soften our impression of what they are.
able to persuade so acute a scholar as Dr. Parr, that the extent of his classical
acquirements was so great as is here represented , and to have thus impressed with*
the idea of his remembering so much, the person who best knew how lillle he
had learned.
1 The remainder of ihe letter relates to other subjects.
OF R. B. SHERIDAN 0
After giving an account of the residence of the family in France ,
she continues : —
" We returned to England, when I may say I first became acquainted
with my brother — for faint and imperfect were my recollections of him,
as might be expected from my age. I saw him; and my childish attach-
ment revived with double force. He was handsome, not merely in the
eyes of a partial sister, but generally allowed to be so. His cheeks had the
glow of health, his eyes — the finest in the world — the brilliancy of ge-
nius, and were soft as a tender and affectionate heart could render them.
The same playful fancy, the same sterling and innoxious wit, that was
shown afterward! in his writings, cheered and delighted the family circle.
I admired — I almost adored him. I would most willingly have sacri-
ficed my life for him, as I, in some measure, proved to him at Bath,
where we resided for some time, and where events that you must have
heard of engaged him in a duel. My father's displeasure threatened to
involve me in the denunciations against him, for committing what he
considered as a crime. Yet I risked everything, and in tine event was
made happy by obtaining forgiveness for my brother. * * * * You may
perceive , dear sister, that very little indeed have I to say on a subject so
near your heart, and near mine also. That for years I lost sight of a
brother whom I loved with unabated affection — a love that neither ab-
sence or neglect could chill, — Lafways consider as a great misfortune."
On his leaving Harrow, where he continued till near his eighteenth
year, he was brought home by his father, who, with the elder son ,
Charles, had lately returned from France, and taken a house in
London. Here the two brothers for some time received private tui-
tion from Mr. Lewis Ker , an Irish gentleman , who had formerly
practised as a physician , but having , by loss of health , been obliged
to give up his profession , supported himself by giving lessons in
Latin and Mathematics. They attended also the fencing and riding-
schools of Mr. Angelo , and received instructions from their father
in English grammar and oratory. Of this advantage , however, it is
probable, only the elder son availed himself, as Richard, who seems
to have been determined to owe all his excellence to nature alone,
was found as impracticable a pupil at home as at school. But, how-
ever inattentive to his studies he may have been at Harrow, it ap-
pears, from one of the letters of his school-fellow, Mr. Halhed,
that , in poetry, which is usually the first exercise in which these
young alhleta3 of intellect try their strength , he had already distin-
guished himself — and , in conjunction with his friend Halhed , had
translated the seventh Idyl, and many of the lesser poems of Theo-
critus. This literary partnership was resumed soon after their de-
parture from Harrow. In the year 1770, when Halhed was at Oxford,
and Sheridan residing with his father at Bath , Ihey entered into a
< orrespondence (of which unluckily only Halhed's share remains),
10 MEMOIRS
and , with all the hope and spirit of young adventurers , began and
prosecuted a variety of works together, of which none but their
translation of Aristaenetus ever saw the light.
There is something in the aUiance between these boys peculiarly
interesting. Their united ages , as Halhed boasts in one of his let-
ters, did not amount to thirty-eight. They were both abounding in
wit and spirits , and as sanguine as the consciousness of talent and
youth could make them ; both inspired with a taste for pleasure ,
and thrown upon their own resources for the means of gratifying it ;
both carelessly embarking, without rivalry or reserve , their venture
of fame in the same bottom, and both, as Halhed discovered at last,
passionately in love with the same woman.
It would have given me great pleasure to have been enabled to
enliven my pages with even a few extracts from that portion of their
correspondence , which , as I have just mentioned , has fallen into
my hands. There is in the letters of Mr. Halhed a fresh youthfulness
of style , and an unaffected vivacity of thought , which I question
whether even his witty correspondent could have surpassed. As I
do not, however, feel authorised to lay these letters before the world,
1 must only avail myself of the afll which their contents supply ,
towards tracing the progress of his wlrary partnership with Sheri-
dan , and throwing light on a period so full of interest in the life of
the latter.
Their first joint production was a farce , or rather play , in three
acts, called "Jupiter," written in imitation of the burletla of
Midas , whose popularity seems to have tempted into its wake a
number of these musical parodies upon heathen fable. The amour
of Jupiter with Major Amphitryon's wife, and Sir Richard Ixion's
courtship of Juno, who substitutes Miss Peggy Nubilis in her
place , form the subject of this ludicrous little drama , of which
Halhed furnished the burlesque scenes , — while the form of a re-
hearsal , into which the whole is thrown , and which , as an antici-
pation of "The Critic," is highly curious, was suggested and
managed entirely fay Sheridan. The following extracts will give
some idea of the humour of this trifle ; and in the character of Simile
the reader will at once discover a sort of dim and shadowy prc-
cxistence of Puff : —
" Simile. Sir, you are very ignorant on the subject, — it is the method
most in vogue.
" O'Cul. What! to .make the music first, and then make the sense lo
it afterwards !
" Sim. Just so.
" Monop. What Mr, Simile says is very true , gentlemen ; and there is
OF R. B. SHERIDAN. II
nothing surprising in it, if we consider now the general method of wri-
ting plays to scenes.
" O'Cul. Writing plays to scenes ! — oh , you are joking.
" Monop. Not I, upon my word. Mr. Simile knows that I have fre-
quently a complete set of scenes from Italy, and then I have nothing to
do but to get some ingenious hand to write a play to them.
" Sim. I am your witness, Sir. Gentlemen, you perceive you know
nothing about these matters.
" O'Cul. Why, Mr. Simile , I don't pretend to know much relating
to these affairs ; but what I think is this , that in this method , according
to your principles , you must often commit blunders.
" Sim. Blunders ! to be sure I must, but I always could get myself out
of them again. Why, I'll tell you an instance of it.— You must know I
was once a journeyman sonnet- writer to Signer Squallini. Now, his me-
thod , when seized with the furor harmonicas was constantly to make me
sit by his side , while he was thrumming on his harpsichord , in order
to make extempore verses to whatever air he should beat out to his liking.
I remember , one morning , as he was in this situation , thrum, thrum ,
thrum, (moving his fingers as if beating on the harpsichord], striking out
something prodigiously great, as he thought ,— ' Hah ! ' said he ,— 'hah !
Mr. Simile , thrum , thrum j thrum, by gar, here is vary fine, — thrum ,
thrum , thrum , write me some words directly.' — I durst not interrupt
him to ask on what subject, so instantly began to describe a fine morning.
" 'Calm was the laud aud calm the seas ,
And calm the heaven's dome serene,
Husb'd was the gale and hush'dthe breeze;
And not a vapour to be seen.' "
I sang it to his notes.—' Hah ! ' upon my word vary pritt, — thrum, thrum,
thrum,— slay, stay, — thrum, thrum.— Hoa! upon my word, here it must
be an adagio,— thrum, thrum, — oh ! let it be an Ode to Melancholy.
" Monop. The Devil! — there you were puzzled sure.
** Sim. Not in the least ,— I brought in a cloud in the next stanza, and
matters, you see, came about at once.
" Monop. An excellent transition !
" O'Cul. Vastly ingenious indeed!
" Sim. Was it not? hey ! it required a little command , — a little pre-
sence of mind, — but I believe we had better proceed.
" Monop. The sooner the better, — come, gentlemen, resume your
seats.
" Sim. Now for it. Draw up the curtain, and (looking at his book) enter
Sir Richard Ixion,— but stay,— zounds , Sir Richard ought to over-hear
Jupiter and his wife quarrelling,— but, never mind,— these accidents have
spoilt the division of my piece. — So enter Sir Richard , and look as
cunning as if you had overheard them. Now for it, gentlemen,— you
can't be too attentive. •
Enter Sir RICHARD IXION, completely dressed, with bag , sword, etc.
" Ix. 'Fore George, at logger-heads,— a lucky minute ,
i'on honour, 1 may make my market in it.
12 MEMOIRS
Dem it, my air, address , and mien must toucli her ,
JNow out of sorts with him, — less God than butcher.
O rat the fellow, — where can all his sense lie,
To gallify the lady so immensely ?
Ah ! le grand bete qu'il eat ! how rude the bear is !
The world to two-pence he was ne'er at Paris.
Perdition stap my vitals,— now or never
I'll niggle snugly into Juno's favour.
Let's see, — (looking in a glass) my 'face, — toll loll — 'twill work upon hci
My person — oh, immense, upon my honour.
My eyes,— oh fie, — the naughty glass it flatters, —
Courage, — Ixion flogs the world to tatters. [ Exit Ixion.
" Sim. There is a fine gentleman for you, — in the very pink of the
mode, with not a single article about him his own, — his words pilfered
from Magazines , his address from French valets, and his clothes not paid
for.
" Macd. But pray, Mr. Simile, how did Ixion get into heaven?
" Sim. Why, Sir, what's that to any body ? — perhaps by Salrnoneus's
Brazen Bridge, or the Giant's Mountain, or the Tower of Babel, or on
Theobald's bull-dogs, or who the devil -cares how? — he is there and
that's enough."
Song by JUPITER.
" You dogs , I'm Jupiter Imperial ,
Kiug, Emperor, and Pope aetherial ,
Master of tli' Ordnance of the sky. —
" Sim. 'L — ds , where's the ordnance? Have you forgot the pistol ?
( to the Orchestra. }
" Orchestra (to some oncbclund the. scenes}. Tom, are you not pre-
pared ?
" Tom (from behind the .-scenes). Yes, sir, but I flash'd in the pan a little
out of time, and had I staid to prime, I should have shot a bar too late.
" Sim. Oil then, Jupiter, begin the song again. — We must not lose
our ordnance.
" You dogs, I'm Jupiter Imperial,
Kiug, Emperor, and Pope aetherial ,
Master of th' Ordnaoceof the sky; etc., etc.
[ Here a pistol or cracker is fired from behind the scenes.
11 Sim. This hint I took from Handel. — Well , how do you think we
go on ?
" O'Cul. With vast spirit, — the plot begins to thicken.
" Sim. Thicken! aye, — 'twill be as thick as the calf of your leg pre-
sently. Well, now for the real, original, patentee Amphitryon. What,
ho, Amphitryon! Amphitryon ! —'tis Simile calls.— Why^ where the devil
is he?
OF R. B. SHERIDAN. n
^ Enter SERVANT.
Tom, \vherc is Amphitryon?
" Sim. Zounds, he's not arrested too, is he?
" Sen>. No, Sir ; hut there was but one black eye in the house , and
lie is waiting to get it from Jupiter.
" Sim. To geta black eye from Jupiter, -oh, this will never do. "Why,
when they meet, they ought to match like two beef-eaters."
According to their original plan for the conclusion of this farce ,
all things were at last to be compromised between Jupiter and Juno •
Amphitryon was to be comforted in the birft of so mighty a son ;
Ixion , for his presumption , instead of being fixed to a torturing
wheel , was to have been fixed to a vagrant monotroche , as knife-
grinder, and a grand chorus of deities (intermixed with " knives ,
scissors, pen-knives to grind,1' set to music as nearly as possible
to the natural cry ,) would have concluded the whole.
That habit of dilatoriness , which is too often attendant upon
genius, and which is for ever making it, like the pistol in the
scene just quoted, " shoot a bar too late," was, through life, re-
markable in the character of Mr. Sheridan , — and we have here an
early instance of its influence over him. Though it was in August,
1770, that he received the sketch of this piece from his friend,
and though they both looked forward most sanguinely to its suc-
cess , as likely to realize many a dream of fame and profit, it was
not till the month of May in the subsequent year , as appears by a
letter from Mr. Ker to Sheridan , that the probability of the arrival
of the manuscript was announced to Mr. Foote. " I have dispatched
a card, as from H. H., at Owen's Coffee-house, to Mr. Foote, to
inform him that he may expect to see your dramatic piece about
the 25th instant."
Their hopes and fears in this theatrical speculation are very na-
turally and livelily expressed throughout Halhed's letters, sometimes
with a degree of humorous pathos , which is interesting as charac-
teristic of both the writers \— " The thoughts ," he says , " of 200/.
shared between us are enough to bring the tears into one's eyes."
Sometimes , he sets more moderate limits to their ambition , and
hopes that they will, at least, get the freedom of the play-house by
it. But at all times he chides, with good-humoured impatience, the
tardiness of his fellow-labourer in applying to the managers. Fears
are expressed that Foote may have made other engagements , — and
that a piece , called " Dido," on the same mythological plan , which
had lately been produced with but little success , might prove an
obstacle to the reception of theirs. At Drury Lane , too , they had
little hopes of a favourable hearing , as Dibdin was one of the prin-
cipal butts of their ridicule.
H MEMOIRS
The summer season , however, was suffered to pas^away without
an effort; and in October, 1771 , we flnd Mr. Halhed flattering
himself with hopes from a negotiation with Mr. Garrick. It does
not appear , however , that Sheridan ever actually presented this
piece to any of the managers 5 and indeed it is probable , from the
following fragment of a scene found among his papers , that he soon
abandoned the ground- work of Halhed altogether , and transferred
his plan of a rehearsal to some other subject, of his own invention
and , therefore , more worthy of his wit. It will be perceived that
the puffing author wdfe here intended to be a Scotchman.
" M. Sir, I have read your comedy, and I think it has infinite merit ;
but, pray, don't you think it rather grave?
** S. Sir, you say true ; it is a grave comedy. I follow the opinion of
Longinus who says comedy ought always to be sentimental. Sir, I value ,
a sentiment of six lines in my piece no more than a nabob does a rupee. I
hate those dirty, paltry equivocations, which go by the name of puns, and
pieces of wit. No, Sir, it ever was my opinion that the stage should be a
place of rational entertainment ; instead of which, I am very sorry to say,
most people go there for their diversion : accordingly, I have formed my
comedy so that it is no laughing, giggling piece of work. He must be
a very light man that shall discompose his muscles from the beginning to
the end.
" M. But don't you think it may be too grave ?
" S. O never fear ; and as for hissing, mon, they might as well hiss
the common prayer-book; for there is the viciousness of vice and the
virtuousness of virtue in every third line.
" M. I confess there is a great deal of moral in it ; but, Sir, I should
imagine if you tried your hand at tragedy —
" S. No, mon , there you are out, and I'll relate to you what put me
first on writing a comedy. You must know I had composed a very fine
tragedy about the valiant Bruce. I showed it my Laird of Mackintosh, and
he was a very candid mon , and he said my genius did not lie in tragedy :
I took the hint, and, as soon as I got home, began my comedy. "
We have here some of the very thoughts and words that afterwards
contributed to the fortune of Puff ; and it is amusing to observe how
long this subject was played with by the current of Sheridan's fancy ,
till at last, like " a stone of lustre from the brook," it came forth
with all that smoothness and polish which it wears in his inimitable
farce , The Critic. Thus it is , too , and but little to the glory of
what are called our years of discretion , that the life of the man is
chiefly employed in giving effect to the wishes and plans of the boy.
Another of their projects was a Periodical Miscellany , the idea of
which originated with Sheridan, and whose first embryo movements
we trace in a letter to him from Mr. Lewis Ker , who undertook
with much good nature the negotiation of the young author's literary
OF R. B. SHERIDAN. IS
concerns in London. The leller is dated 30lh of October, 1770.—
" As ID your intended periodical paper, if it meets \vith success ,
there is no doubt of profit accruing, as I have already engaged a
publisher of established reputation to undertake it for the account of
I he authors. But I am to indemnify him in case it should not sell,
;md to advance part of the first expense , all which I can do without
applying to Mr. Ewart." — " I would be glad to know what stock
of papers you have already written , as there ought to be ten or a
dozen at least finished before you print any , in order to have time
to prepare the subsequent numbers , and ensure a continuance of
I lie work. As to the coffee-houses , you must not depend on their
taking it in at first, except you go on the plan of the Taller, and
give the news of the week. For the first two or three weeks the
expense of advertising will certainly prevent any profit being made.
But when that is over , if a thousand are sold weakly , you may
reckon on receiving 5Z. clear. One paper a-week will do belter than
two. Pray say no more as to our accounts."
The litle intended by Sheridan for this paper was " Hernan's
Miscellany ," to which his friend Halhed objected , and suggested
"The Reformer," as a newer and more significant name. But,
though Halhed appears to have sought among his Oxford friends
for an auxiliary or two in their weekly labours, this meditated
Miscellany never proceeded beyond the first number , which was
written by Sheridan , and which I have found among his papers.
It is loo diffuse and pointless to be 'given entire; but an extract or
two from it will not be unwelcome to those who love to trace even
the first , feeblest beginnings of genius.
HERNAN'S MISCELLANY.
No. I.
" I will sit down and write for the good of the people — for (said I to
myself, pulling off my spectacles, and drinking up the remainder of my
sixpen'worth ) it cannot be but people must be sick of these same rascally
politics. All last winter nothing but— God defend me! 'tis tiresone to
think of it.' I immediately flung the pamphlet down on the table, and
raking my hat and cane walked out of the coffee-house.
" I kept up as smart a pace as I could all the way home, for 1 felt
mj self full of something, and enjoyed my own thoughts so much , thai
I was afraid of digesting them , lest any should escape me. At last I
knocked at my own door. — ' So!' said Itothe niaid who opened it (for 1
never would keep a man ; not, but what I could afford it — bowever, the
reason is not material now, ) 'So ! ' said I with an unusual smile upon my
lace, and immediately sent her for a quire of paper and half a hundred
«>f pens— the only thing 1 had absolutely determined on in mv \vnv from
the coffee-house. I had now got seated in my arm-chair, — I am an infirm
16 MEMOIRS
old man, and I live on a second floor,— when I began to ruminate on my
project. The first thing that occurred to me ( and certainly a very natural
one) was to examine my common-place book. So I went to my desk and
took out my old faithful red-leather companion, who had long discharged
the office of treasurer to all my best hints and memorandums : but,
how was I surprised when one of the first things that struck my eyes was
the following memorandum legibly written, and on one of my best sheets
of vellum :— ' Mem.— Oct. 2O//1 , 1769, left the Grecian, after having
read 's Poems , with a determined resolution tn write a Periodical
Paper, in order io reform the vitiated taste of the age; but coming home
and finding my fire out, and my maid gone abroad , was obliged to
defer the execution of my plan to another opportunity.' Now though
this event had absolutely slipped my memory, 1 now recollected it perfect-
ly,—ay, so my fire.wa,y out indeed, and my maid did go abroad sure
enough.— 'Good Heavens ! ' said I, 'how great events depend upon little
circumstances ! ' However , I looked upon this as a mernent? for me no
longer to trifle away my time and resolution, and thus I began to reason,
— I mean , I would have reasoned, had I not been interrupted by a noise
of some one coming up stairs. By the alternate thump upon the steps, I
soon discovered it must be my old and intimate friend Rudliche.
"But, to return, in walked Rudliche. — 'So, Fred.' — 'So, Bob.' — •
'Were you at the Grecian to-day?'-' I just stepped in.' — ' Well,
any news?' No, no, there was no news.' — Now, as Bob and I saw one
another almost every day, we seldom abounded in conversation; so,
having settled one material point, he sat in his usual posture, looking at
the fire and beating the dust out of his wooden leg, when I perceived he
was going to touch upon the other subject; but, having by chance cast
his eve ou my face, and finding ( I suppose) something extraordinary in
my countenance, he immediately dropped all concern for the weather,
and putting his hand into his pocket ( as if he meant to find what he was
going to say, under pretence of feeling for his tobacco-box), ' Hernan!
(be began) why, man, you look for all the world as if you had been
thinking of something.' — ' Yes/ replied I, smiling ( that is, not actually
smiling, but with a conscious something in my face) , ' I have, indeed ,
been thinking a little.'— ' What, is't a secret?' — 'Oh, nothing very
material.' Here ensued a pause, which I employed in considering whether
I should reveal my scheme to Bob; and Bob in trying to disengage his
thumb from the string of his cane, as if he were preparing to take his
leave. This latter action , with the great desire I had of disburdening
myself, made me instantly resolve to lay my whole plan before him. ' Bob,
said I ( he immediately quitted his thumb) , you remarked that I looked
as if I had been thinking of something,— your remark is just , and I'll tell
you the subject of my thought. You know, Bob, that I always had a strong
passion for literature : — you have often seen my collection of books , not
very large indeed ; however I believe I have read every volume of it twice
over ( excepting '.? Divine Legation of Moses , and '.? Lives of the
most notorious Malefactors'), and I am now determined to profit by
them.' I concluded with a very significant nod; — but, good heavens!
how mortified was I to find both my speech and my nod thrown away,
OF R. B. SHERIDAN. 17
when lUulliche calmly replied , \\ith the true phlegm of ignorance^, ' My
dear friend , 1 think your resolution in regard to your books a very pru-
dent one ; hut I do not perfectly conceive your plan as to the profit ; for ,
I .hough your volumes may be very curious, yet you know they are most
of them second-hand.'— 1 was so vexed with the fellow's stupidity that I
had a great mind to punish him by not disclosing a syllable more.
However , at last my vanity got the better of my resentment , and I ex-
plained to him the whole matter. **»**»*.**
" In examining the beginning of the Spectators, etc. I find they are all
written by a society. — Now I profess tV> write all myself, though I ac-
knowledge that , on account of a weakness in my eyes , I have got some
under-strappers who are to write the poetry, etc. ... In order to find
the different merits of these my subalterns, I stipulated with them that,
they should let me feed them as I would. This they consented to do , and
it is surprising to thirik what different effects diet has on the writers. The
same who, after having been fed two days upon artichokes, produced as
pretty a copy of verses as ever I saw , on beef was as dull as ditchwater.
" It is a characteristic of fools ," says some one , " to be always
beginning," — and this is not the only point in which folly and
genius resemble each other. So chillingly indeed do the difficulties
of execution succeed to the first ardour of conception , that it is
only wonderful there should exist so many finished monuments of
genius , or that men of fancy should not oflener have contented
themselves with those first , vague sketches, in the production of
which the chief luxury of intellectual creation lies. Among the many
literary works shadowed out by Sheridan at this lime , were a Col-
lection of Occasional Poems , and a volume of Crazy Tales , — to the
former of which Halhed suggests, that " the old things they did at
Harrow out of Theocritus " might , with a litlle pruning , form a
useful contribution. The loss of the volume of Crazy Tales is little
to be regretted , as from its title we may conclude it was written in
imitation of the clever, but licentious productions of John Hall
Stephenson. If the same kind oblivion had closed over the levities
of oilier young authors , who , in the season of folly and the pas-
sions , have made their pages the transcript of their lives , it would
have been equally fortunate for themselves and the world.
But , whatever may have been the industry of Ihese youthful au-
thors , the translation of Arislaenetus , as I have already slated , was
the only fruit of their literary alliance that ever arrived at sufficient
malurily for publicalion. In November, 1770, Halhed had com-
pleted and forwarded to Balh his share of the work , and in ihe
following month we find Sheridan preparing , with the assistance
of a Greek grammar, lo complete the task. 'u The 29lh nil. (says
Mr. Ker, in a letter to him from London, dated DIM . 4, 1770) . I
IS MEMOIRS
was favoured with yours , and have since been hunting for Arislee-
netus, whom I found this day, and therefore send to you, together
wilh a Greek grammar. I might have dispatched at the same lime
sbme numbers of the Dictionary, but not having got the two last
numbers, was not willing to send any without the whole of what is
published , and still less willing to delay Arislaenelus's journey by
wailing for them." The work alluded to here is the Dictionary of
Arts and Sciences, to which Sheridan had subscribed, with the view,
no doubt, of informing himself upon subjects of which he was as
yet wholly ignorant ; having left school, like most other young men
at his age, as little furnished with the knowledge that is wanted in
the world , as a person w ould be for the demands of a market , who
went into it with nothing but a few ancient coius in his pocket.
The passion , however, that now began to take possession of his
heart was little favourable to his advancement in any serious studies ;
and it may easily be imagined that , in the neighborhood of Miss
Linley, the Arts and Sciences were suffered to sleep quietly on their
shelves. Even the translation of Aristsenelus, though a task more
suited , from its amatory nature , to the existing temperature of his
heart , was proceeded in but slowly ; and it appears from one of
Halhed's letters that this impatient ally was already counting upon
the spolia opima of the campaign , before Sheridan had fairly
brought his Greek grammar into the field. The great object of the
former was a visit to Bath ; and he had set his heart still more
anxiously upon it after a second meeting wilh Miss Linley at Oxford.
But the profits expected from their literary undertakings were the
only means to w hich he looked for the realising of this dream •, and
he accordingly implores his friend, with the most comic piteousness,
to drive the farce on the stage by main force , and to make Aristffi-
netus sell whether he will or not. In the November of this year we
find them discussing the propriety of prefixing their names to the
work — Sheridan evidently not disinclined to venture , but Halhed
recommending that they should wait to hear how " Sumner and
Ihe wise few of their acquaintance " would talk of the book , before
they risked any thing more than their initials. In answer to Sheri-
dan's enquiries as to the extent of sale they may expect in Oxford, he
confesses that , after three coffee-houses had bought one a-piece .
not two more would be sold.
That poverty is the best nurse of talent has long been a most hu-
miliating truism ; and the fountain of the Muses , bursting from a
barren rock, is but too apt an emblem of the hard source from which
much of the genius of this world has issued. How strongly the
young translators of Aristrenetus were under the influence of this
sort of inspiration appears from every paragraph of Halhed's letters,
OF R. B. SHERIDAN. in
and might easily, indeed , be concluded of Sheridan from the very
limited circumstances of his father — who had nothing beside the
pension of 200/. a-year, conferred upon him in consideration of
his literary merits, and the little profits he derived from his lectures
in Bath, to support with decency himself and his family. The pros-
pects of Halhed were much more golden , but he was far too gay
and mercurial to be prudent 5 and from the very scanty supplies
which his father allowed him , had quite as little of " le superflu ,
chose si necessaire," as his friend. But whatever were his other desires
and pursuits , a visit to Bath , — to that place which contained the
two persons he most valued in friendship and in love , — was the
grand object of all his financial speculations •, and among other ways
and means that , in the delay of the expected resources from Aris-
Uenetus , presented themselves , was an exhibition of 20Z. a-year,
which the college had lately given him , and with five pounds of
which he thought he might venture " adire Corinthum."
Though Sheridan had informed his friend that the translation was
put to press some time in March, 1771, it does not appear to have
been given into the hands of Wilkie, the publisher, till the beginning
of May, when Mr. Ker writes thus to Bath : " Your Arista3nelus
is in the hands of Mr. Wilkie , in St. Paul's Church-yard , and to
put you out of suspense at once, will certainly make his appearance
about the 1st of June next, in the form of a neat volume , price 3s.
or 3s. &d., as may best suit his 'size, etc., which cannot be more
nearly determined at present. I have undertaken the task of cor-
recting for the press.... Some of the Epistles that I have perused
seem to me elegant and poetical •, in others I could not observe
equal beauty, and here and there I could wish there were some
little amendment. You will pardon this liberty I take , and set it
down to the account of old-fashioned friendship. "Mr. Ker, to judge
from his letters ( which , in addition to their other laudable points ,
are dated with a precision truly exemplary), was a very kind,
useful , and sensible person , and in the sober hue of his intellect
exhibited a striking contrast, to the sparkling vivacity of the two
sanguine and impatient young wits , whose affairs he so good-na-
turedly undertook to negotiate.
At length in August , 1771, AristaBnetus made its appearance — '
contrary to the advice of the bookseller, and of Mr. Ker, who re-
presented to Sheridan the unpropitiousness of the season, parti-
cularly for a first experiment in authorship , and advised the post-
ponement of the publication till October. But the translators \\m>
loo eager for the rich harvest of emolument they had promised
'hrmselves , and too full of that pleasing but often fatal delusion —
thai calenture , under the influence of which young voyagers to the
SO MEMOIRS
shores of Fame imagine they already see her green fields and groves
in the treacherous waves around them — to listen to the suggestions
of mere calculating men of business. The first account they heard of
the reception of the work was flattering enough to prolong awhile
this dream of vanity. " It begins (writes Mr. Ker, in about a fort-
night after the publication , ) to make some noise , and is fathered
on Mr. Johnson , author of the English Dictionary, etc. See to-
day's Gazetteer. The critics are admirable in discovering a concealed
author by his style, manner, etc."
Their disappointment at the ultimate failure of the book was
proportioned , we may suppose , to the sanguineness of their first
expectations. But the reluctance , with which an author yields to the
sad certainty of being unread , is apparent in the eagerness with
which Halhed avails himself of every encouragement for a rally of
his hopes. The Critical Reviewers , it seems , had given the work a
tolerable character, and quoted the first Epistle l. The Weekly Re-
view in the Public Ledger had also spoken well of it, and cited a spe-
cimen. The Oxford Magazine had transcribed two whole Epistles ,
without mentioning from whence they were taken. Every body, he
says , seemed to have read the book , and one of those hawking
booksellers, who attend the coffee-houses, assured him it was
written by Dr. Armstrong , author of the OEconomy of Love. On
the strength of all this he recommends that another volume of the
Epistles should be published immediately — being of opinion that
the readers of the first volume would be sure to purchase the second,
and that the publication of the second would put it in the heads of
others to buy the first. Under a sentence containing one of these
sanguine anticipations , there is written , in Sheridan's hand , the
word " Quixote!"
They were never, of course , called upon for the second part ,
and, whether we consider the merits of the original or of the
translation , the world has but little to regret in the loss. ArisUenetus
is one of those weak , florid sophists who flourished in the decline
and degradation of ancient literature, and strewed their gaudy
flowers of rhetoric over the dead muse of Greece. He is evidently
of a much later period than Alciphron , to whom he is also very
inferior in purity of diction, variety of subject, and playfulness of
irony. But neither of them ever deserved to be wakened from that
1 In one of the Pieviews I have seen it is thus spoken of: — '' No such writer as
Aristaenetus ever existed in the classic aera ; nor did even the unhappy schools, after
the destruction of the Eastern empire, produce such a writer. It was left to the
latter times of monkish imposition to give snch trash as this, on which the transla-
tor has ill spent his time. We have been as idly employed in reading it, and our
readers will in proportion lose their time in perusing this article."
OF R. B. SHERIDAN. 21
sleep, in which the commentaries of Bergler, De Pauw, and a few
more such industrious scholars have shrouded them.
The translators of Aristaenetus , in rendering his flowery prose
nilo verse, might have found a precedent and model for their task
in Ben Jonson, whose popular song, " Drink to me only with thine
eyes ," is, as Mr. Cumberland first remarked, but a piece of fan-
ciful mosaic , collected out of the love-letters of the sophist Philos-
tralus. But many of the narrations in Aristffinelus are incapable of
being elevated into poetry; and, unluckily, these familiar parts
seem chiefly to*have fallen to the department of Halhed , yfio was
far less gifted than his coadjutor with that artist-like touch , which
polishes away the mark of vulgarity, and gives an air of elegance
even to poverty. As the volume is not in many hands , the follow-
ing extract from one of the Epistles may be acceptable — as well
from the singularity of the scene described , as from the specimen
it affords of the merits of the translation :
" Listen — another pleasure I display,
That help'd delightfully the time away.
From distant vales, where bubbles from its source
A crystal rill , they dug a winding course : .
See ! thro' the grove a narrow lake extends ,
Crosses each plot , to each plantation bends ;
And while the fount iu new meanders glides,
The forest brightens with refreshing tides.
Tow'rds us they taught the new-boru stream to flow,
Tow'rds us it crept, irresolute and slow :
Scarce had the infant current trickled by ,
When lo ! a wondrous fleet attracts our eye;
Laden with draughts might greet a monarch's tongue f
The mimic navigation swam aloug.
Hasten, ye ship-like goblets, down the vale , f
' Your freight a flagon, and a leaf your sail.
<) may no envious rush thy course impede,
Or floating apple stop thy tide-borne speed.
His mildest breath a gentle zephyr gave ;
The little vessels trimly stemm'd the wave :
Their precious merchandise to laud they boie,
And one by one resign'd the balmy store.
Stretch but a hand , we boarded them , and quaft
"With native luxury the teinper'd draught.
For where they loaded the uectareous fleet.
The goblet glow'd with too intense a heat ;
Cool'd by degrees in these convivial ships ,
With nicest taste it met our thirsty lips."
" In the original, tbi.s luxurious image is, pursued so far that the very leaf,
nhi, h is represented as the sail of the vessel, is particularised as of a medicinal
uiiiure, r.-.pable of preventing any ill effects the wine might prodiu-c."— Not*
kr the Translator.
9
22 MEMOIRS
As a scholar such as Halhed could hardly have been led into Uie
mistake of supposing «r Mutt** <p»r» f OAA«» to mean k' a leaf of a
medicinal nature," we may perhaps, from this circumstance not
less than from the superior workmanship of the verses , attribute
the whole of this Epistle and notes to Sheridan.
There is another Epistle , the 12th , as evidently from the pen of
his friend , the greater part of which is original , and shows , by its
raciness and vigour, what difference there is between " the first
sprightly runnings " of an author's own mind , and his cold , vapid
transfusion of the thoughts of another. From stanza 10th to the end
is all added by the translator, and all spirited — though full of a bold ,
defying libertinism , as unlike as possible to the effeminate lubricity
of the poor sophist , upon whom , in a grave , treacherous note , the
responsibility of the whole is laid. But by far the most interesting
part of the volume is the last Epistle of the book , " From a Lover
resigning his Mistress to his Friend ," — in which Halhed has con-
trived to extract from the unmeaningness of the original a direct
allusion to his own fate ; and, forgetting Aristffinetus and his dull
personages , thinks only of himself, and Sheridan , and Miss Linley.
" Thee, then, my friend, — if yet a wretch may claim
A last attention by that once dear name, —
Thee I address : — the cause you must approve ;
I yield you — what I cannot cease to love.
Be thine the blissful lot , the nymph be thine :
I yield my love, — sure, friendship may be mine.
Yet must no thought of me torment thy breast;
Forget me, if my griefs disturb thy rest,
Whilst still I'll pray that thou may'st never know
The pangs of baffled love , or feel my woe.
But sure to tliee, dear , charming — fatal maid !
( For me thou'st charm'd, and me thou hast betray'd,J
This last request I need not recommend —
Forget the lover thon , as he the friend.
Bootless such charge ! for ne'er did pity move
A heart that mock'd the suit of humble love.
Yet , in some thonghtful hour — if such can be ,
Where love , Timocrates , is join'd with thee —
In some lone pause of joy , when pleasures pall ,
And fancy broods o'er joys it can't recall,
Haply a thought of me ( for thou , my friend ,
May'st then have taught that stubborn heart to bend),
A thought of him , whose passion was not weak,
May dash one transient blush upon her cheek;
Haply a tear — ( for I shall surely then
Be past all power to raise her scorn again — )
Haply, I say , one self-dried tear may fall : —
One tear she'll give , for whom I yielded all !
OF R. H. SHERIDAN.
My life lias lost it* ;iim !— iliat fatal fair
U .,s iill it* object all It-, hope or care :
She was the goal
Where every wish
A secret influence
Each look, attract
Concentred these, I liv'd for her aloue;
To make her glad aud to be blest was one.
winch my course was beut ,
where every thought was sent;
Parted from her yes , —
ou , and herself the prize.
Adieu , my friend, — nor blame this sad adieu ,
Though sorrow guides my pen , it blames not you.
Forget me — 'tis my prayer ; nor seek to know
The fate of him whose portion must be woe ,
Till the cold earth outstretch her friendly arms.
Aud Deatli convince me that he can have charms."
But Halhed's was not the only heart, that sighed deeply and
hopelessly for the young Maid of Bath , who appears , indeed , to
have spread her gentle conquests to an extent almost unparalleled
in the annals of beauty. Her personal charms , the exquisiteness of
her musical talents , and the full light of publicity which her profes-
sion threw upon both, naturally attracted round her a crowd of ad-
mirers, in whom the sympathy of a common pursuit soon kindled
into rivalry, till she became at length an object of vanity as well as
of love. Her extreme youth, too, — for she was little more than
sixteen when Sheridan first met her, — must have removed , «ven
from minds the most fastidious and delicate , that repugnance they
might justly have felt to her profession, if she had lived much longer
under its tarnishing influence > or lost, by frequent exhibitions be-
fore the public , that fine gloss of feminine modesty, for whose ab-
sence not all the talents and accomplishments of the whole sex can
atone.
She had been , even at this early age , on the point of marriage
with Mr. Long , an old gentleman of considerable fortune in Wilt-
shire , who proved the reality of his attachment to her in a way
which few young lovers would be romantic enough to imitate. On
her secretly representing to him that she never could be happy as
his wife, he generously took upon himself the whole blame of break-
ing off the alliance , and even indemnified the father, who was pro-
ceeding to bring the transaction into court, by settling 3000/. upon
his daughter. Mr. Sheridan , who owed to this liberal conduct not
only the possession of the woman he loved , but the means of sup-
porting her during the first years of their marriage , spoke invaria-
bly of Mr. Long , who lived to a very advanced age , with all the
kindness and respect which such a disinterested character merilrd.
II was about the middle of the year 1770 that the Shcridans look
24 MEMOIRS
up their residence in King's Mead ' Street , Bath , where an ac-
quaintance commenced between them and Mr. Linley's family ,
which the kindred tastes of the young people soon ripened into in-
timacy. It was notto be expected, — though parents, in general,
are as blind to the first approach of these dangers, as they are rigid
and unreasonable after they have happened , — that such youthful
poets and musicians 2 should come together, without Love very soon
making one Of the party. Accordingly, the two brothers became
deeply enamoured of Miss Linley. Her heart, however, was not so
wholly unpreoccupied , as to yield at once to the passion which her
destiny had in store for her. One of those transient preferences ,
which in early youth are mistaken for love , had already taken lively
possession of her imagination •, and to this the following lines, writ-
ten at that time by Mr. Sheridan , allude : —
To the Recording Angel.
Cherub of Heaveu , that from thy secret stand
Dost uote the follies of each mortal here,
Oli ! if Eliza's steps employ tliy hand,
Ulot the sad legend with a mortal tear.
Nor, when she errs , through passion's wild extreme,
Mark then her course, nor heed each trifling wrong ;
Nor, wheii her sad attachment is her theme,
Note down the transports of her erring tongue.
Knt, when she sighs for sorrows not her owu ,
Let that dear sigh to Mercy's cause be given ;
And bear that tear to her Creator's throne
Which glistens in the eye upraised to Heaven?
But in love , as in every thin0: else j the power of a mind like She-
ridan's must have made itself felt through all obstacles and difficul-
ties. He was not long in winning the entire affections of the young
" Syren ," — though the number and wealth of his rivals, the ambi-
tious views of her father, and the temptations to which she herself
was hourly exposed, kept his jealousies and fears perpetually on the
watch. He is supposed, indeed , to have been indebted to self-ob-
servation for that portrait of a wayward and morbidly sensitive lover,
which he has drawn so strikingly in the character of Falkland.
With a mind in this stale of feverish wakefulness, it is remarkable
that he should so long have succeeded in concealing his attachment
from the eyes of those most interested in discovering it. Even his
' They also lived , fluring a part of their stay at Bath, in New King-Street,
1 Dr. Barney, in his Biographical Sketch of Mr. Linley, written for Rees's
Cyclopaedia, calls the Linley family '«a uest of nightingales." The only surviving
member of this accomplished family is Mr. William Linley, whose taste and
talent, both in poetry and music, most worthily sustain the reparation of the
name tbat he bears.
OF R. H. SHEAIDAN( ?5
brother Charles was for some lime wholly unaware of Iheir rivalry,
— and went on securely indulging in a passion which it was hardly
possible , with such opportunities of intercourse , to resist , and
which survived long after Miss Linley's selection of another had ex-
tinguished every hope in his heart but that of seeing her happy.
Halhed , too , who at that period corresponded constantly with She-
ridan , and confided to him the love with which he also had been
inspired by this enchantress , was for a length oT time left in the
same darkness upon the subject , and without the slightest suspicion
that the epidemic had reached his friend — whose only mode of
evading the many tender enquiries and messages , with which Hal-
hed's letters abounded , was by referring to answers which had , by
some strange fatality, miscarried , and which we may conclude ,
without much uncharitableness , had never been written.
Miss Linley went frequently to Oxford , to perform at the orato-
rios and concerts •, and it may easily be imagined that the ancient
allegory of the Muses throwing chains over Cupid was here reversed,
and the quiet shades of learning not a little disturbed by the splen-
dour of these " angel visits. "The letters of Halhed give a lively idea,
not only of his own intoxication , but of the sort of contagious deli-
rium , like that at Abdera described by Lucian , with which the
young men of Oxford were affected by this beautiful girl. In describ-
ing her singing he quotes part of a Latin letter, which he himself
had written to a friend upon first hearing her ; and it is a curious
proof of the readiness of Sheridan , notwithstanding his own fertility,
to avail himself of the thoughts of others , that we find in this ex-
tract , word for word , the same extravagant comparison of the ef-
fects of music to the process of Egyptian embalmment — " extract-
ing the brain through the ears" — which was afterwards transplanted
into the dialogue of the Duenna: — " Mortuum quendam ante
jfZgypti inedici quam pollincirent cerebella de auribus unco
quodam liamo solebant extrahere ,• sic de meis auribus non
cerebrum, sed cor ipsum exhausit lusciniola , etc., etc." He
mentions , as the rivals most dreaded by her admirers , Norris , the
singer, whose musical talents, it was thought, recommended him
to her, and Mr. Walls , a gentleman-commoner, of very large for-
tune.
While all hearts and tongues were thus occupied about Miss Lin-
ley, it is not wonderful that rumours of matrimony and elopement
should , from lime lo lime , circulate among her apprehensive ad-
mirers ; or that the usual ill-compliment should be paid to her sex
of supposing that wealth must be the winner of the prize. It was at
"ne moment currently reported at Oxford that she had gone off to
Scotland with a young man of 3000/. a-year, and the panic which
2(5 MEMOIRS
the intelligence spread is described in one of these letters lo Sheri-
dan ( who no doubt shared in it) as producing " long faces" every
where. Not only, indeed, among her numerous lovers, but among
all who delighted in her public performances, an alarm would na-
turally be fell at the prospect of her becoming private property ; —
" Tejtiga Taygeti, posito te Mtenala Jlebunt
fenatu, mcestoque Jin lugebr.re Cynlho.
Deli>hica*qutneliamfratris delubra tacebuni '."
Thee, thee, when hurried from our eyes away,
Lacouia's liills shall tnunru for inanv a day —
The Arcadian hunter shall forget his chace ,
And turn aside , to think upon that face;
While many an hour Apollo's songless shriue
Shall wait in silence for a voice like thine!
But, to the honour of her sex , which is , in general , more disin-
terested than the other , it was found that neither rank nor wealth
had influenced her heart in its election •, and Halhed , who , like
others , had estimated the strength of his rivals by their rent-rolls ,
discovered at last that his unpretending friend, Sheridan (whose
advances in courtship and in knowledge seem to have been equally
noiseless and triumphant ) , was the chosen favourite of her at whose
feet so many fortunes lay. Like that Saint , Cecilia , by whose name
she was always called , she had long welcomed to her soul a secret
visitant % whose gifts were of a higher and more radiant kind, than
the mere wealthy and lordly of this world can proffer. A letter, writ-
ten by Halhed on the prospect of his departure for India-3, alludes
so delicately to this discovery, and describes the stale of his own
heart so mournfully, that I must again , in parting with him and
his correspondence , express the strong regret thai I feel , at not
being able to indulge the reader with a perusal of these letters. Nol
only as a record of the first short flights of Sheridan's genius , but as
a picture , from the life , of the various feelings of youth , its desires
and fears , its feverish hopes and fanciful melancholy, they could not
have failed to be read with Ihe deepesl interest.
To this period of Mr. Sheridan's life we are indebled for most of
those elegant love-verses , which are so well known and so often
quoted. The lines " Uncouth is Ihis moss-covered grolto of stone,"
1 Claudian. De Rapt. Proserp. Lib. ii. v. 244.
J " The youth, found in her chamber, had in his hand two crowns or wreaths,
the one of lilies, the other of roses, which he had brought from Paradise." —
Legend of St. Cecilia.
3 The letter is evidently in answer to one which he had just received from
Sheridan, in which Miss Linley had written a few words, expressive of her wishes
for his health and happiness. Mr. Halhed -sailed for India about ihe latter end of
this year.
OF R. 15- SHERIDAN. ?7
were addressed to Miss Linley , after having offended her by one of
those lectures upon decorum of conduct , which jealous lovers so
frequently inflict upon their mistresses , — and the grotto , immorta-
lized by their quarrel , is supposed to have been in Spring Gardens ,
then the fashionable place of resort in Bath.
I have elsewhere remarked that the conceit in the following stanza
resembles a thought in some verses of Angerianus : —
Aud thou , stony grot , in thy arch inay'st preserve
Two lingering drops of the night-fallen dew ,
Let them fall on her bosom of snow, and they'll serve-
As tears of my sorrow entrusted to you.
At quum per niveam cervicem injliixerit humor
Dicite non roris sed pluvia ha;c lacrimce,
Whether Sheridan was likely to have been a reader of Ange-
rianus is , I think , doubtful — at all events the coincidence is cu-
rious.
" Dry be that tear, my gentlest love ," is supposed to have been
written at a later period; fulfil was most probably produced at the
time of his courtship, for he wrote but few love-verses after his mar-
riage— like the nigtingale (as a French editor of Bonefonious says,
in remarking a similar circumstance of that poet) " qui developpe
le charme de sa voix tant qu'il veut plaire a sa compagne — sont-ils
unis? il se tait, il n'a plus le besoin de lui plaire. "This song having
been hitherto printed incorrectly, I shall give it here, as it is in the
copies preserved by his relations.
Dry be that tear, my gentlest love ' ,
Be hush'd that struggling sigh ,
Nor seasons , day , nor fate shall prove
Morefix'd, more true than I.
Hush'd be that sigh , be dry that tear ,
Cease boding doubt , cease anxious fear. —
Dry be that tear.
Ask'st thou how long my love will stay ,
When all that 's new is past ? —
How long, ah Delia , can I say
How long my life will last ?
Dry be that tear, be hush'd that sigh ,
At least I'll love thee till I die.—
Hush'd be that sigh.
And does that thought affect thee too ,
The thought of Sylvio's death,
Tbat he who only breath'd for you ,
Must yield fliat faithful breath ?
1 Au Elegy by Halhed , transcribed in one of his letters to Sheridan , begins
thus:
" Dry l» that tear, be hush'd that struggling sigh."
28 , MEMOIRS
Husli'd be that sigh , be dry that tear ,
]Nor let us lose our Heaveu here.—
Dry be that tear.
There is in the second stanza here a close resemblance to one of
the madrigals of Monlreuil , a French poet , to whom Sir J. Moore
was indebted for the point of his well known verses, " If in that
breast, so good, so pure *." Mr. Sheridan, however, knew nothing
of French, and neglected every opportunity oflearning it , till, by a
very natural process , his ignorance of the language grew into hatred
of it. Besides, we have the immediate source from which he de-
rived the thought of this stanza , in one of the Essays of Hume, who,
being a reader of foreign literature, most probably found it in Mon-
trcuil a. The passage in Hume (which Sheridan has done little more
than versify) is as follows : — " Why so often ask me, How long
my love shall yet endure? Alas, my Cselia, can I resolve the
question ? Do I know how long my life shallyct endure 3 ?
The pretty lines, " Mark'd you her cheek of rosy hue?" were
written, not upon Miss Linley as has been generally stated , but upon
lady Margaret Fordice, and form part of a poem which he published
in 1771, descriptive of the principal beauties of Bath, entitled
" Clio's Protest, or the Picture Varnished ," — being an answer to
some verses by Mr. Miles Peter Andrews , called " The Bath Pic-
ture ," in which Lady Margaret was thus introduced:
" Remark too the dimpling , sweet smile
Lady Marg'ret's fine countenance wears."
The following is the passage in Mr. Sheridan's poem , entire ; and
the beauty of the six favourite lines shines out so conspicuously, that
The grief, that on ray quiet preys,
That rends my heart and checks my tougue ,
I fear will last me all my days ,
Aud feel it will not last me loug.
It is thus iu Montreuil : —
C'est uu nial que j'aurai tout le temps de ma vie;
Mais je ne I'aurai pas long -temps.
3 Or in an Italian song of Menage, from which Moutieuil , who was accustomed
to such thefts, most probably stole it. The point in the Italian is , as far as I can
remember it , expressed thus : —
In van , o Filli , tu chiedi
Se lungamente durera 1'ardore
Chi lo potrebbe dire?
lucerta, o Filli , e I' ora del morire.
- The Epicurean.
OF R. B. SHERIDAN. 20
we cannot wonder at their having heen so soon detached , like ill set
gems, from the loose and clumsy workmanship around them.
" But, hark! — did not our bard repeat
The love-boru name of M-rg-r-t? —
Attention seizes every ear ;
We paut for the description here : —
' If ever dnlness left.thy brow,
' Pindar , ' we say, ' 'twill leave thee now.'
But O I old Duluess' son anointed
His mother never disappointed! —
And here we all were left to seek .
A dimple in F-rd-ce's cheek !
"And could you really discover,
In gazing those sweet beauties over,
No other charm , no winning grace ,
Adorning either inind or face.
But one poor dimple, to express
The quintessence of loveliness?
.... Mark'd you her cheek of rosy hue?
Mark'J you her eye of sparkling blue?
That eye , in liquid circles moving ;
That cheek abash'd at Man's approving;
The one, Love's arrows darting round;
The other, blushing at the wound :
Did she not speak , did she iiot move,
Now Pallas — now the Queen of Love! "
There is little else in this poem worth being extracted, though it
consists of about four hundred lines ;— except , perhaps , his picture
of a good country house-wife , which affords an early specimen of
that neat poinledness of phrase , which gave his humour, both poe-
tic and dramatic , such a peculiar edge and polish : —
'• We see the Dame , in rustic pride ,
A hunch of keys to grace her side.
Stalking across the well-swept entry ,
To hold her council in the pantry ;
Or , with prophetic soul, foretelling
The peas will boil well by the shelling;
Or, bustling in her private closet,
Prepare her lord his morning posset ;
And, while the hallow'd mixture thickens,
Signing death-warrants for the chickens :
Klse , greatly pensive , poring o'er
Accounts her cook had thumb'd before;
One eye cast up upon that great book ,
Yclep'd The Family Receipt Book ;
By which she's rul'd in all her courses,
From stewing Cgs to drtuchiug horses.
— Then pans and pickling skillets rise,
In dreadful lustre to our eyes.
30 MEMOIRS
With store of sweetmeats ranged iu order ,
Aud potted nothings on the border ;
While salves and caudle-cups between ,
With squalliug children, close the scene."
We find here, too, the source of one of those familiar lines, which
so many quote without knowing whence they come 5 — one of those
stray fragments , whose parentage is doubtful , but to which ( as the
law says of illegitimate children) " pater est populus."
"• You write with ease , to show your breeding,
But easy writing's curst hard reading."
In the following passage , with more of the tact of a man of the
world than the ardour of a poet , he dismisses the object nearest his
heart with the mere passing gallantry of a compliment : —
" O! should your geuius ever rise,
And make you Laureate in the skies,
I'd hold my life , in twenty years ,
You'd spoil the music of the spheres.
— Nay , should the rapture-breathing Nine
In one celestial concert join ,
Their sovereign's power to rehearse,
— Were you to furnish them with verse,
By Jove, I'd fly the heavenly throng,
Tho' Phccbus play'd and LMey sung. "
On the opening of the New Assembly Rooms at Bath , which
commenced with a ridotto, Sept. 30, 1771, he wrote a humorous
description of the entertainment, called " An Epistle from Timo-
thy Screw to his Brother Henry , Waiter at Almack's," which ap-
peared first in the Bath Chronicle, and was so eagerly sought after,
that Crulwell , the editor , was induced to publish it in a separate
form. The allusions in this trifle have, of course, lost their zest by
time ; and a specimen or two of its humour will be all that is neces-
sary here.
" Two rooms were first opened — the long and the round one ,
( These Hogstyegon names only serve to confound one , )
Both splendidly lit with the new chandeliers ,
With drops hanging down like the bobs at Peg's ears :
While jewels of paste reflected the rays,
Aud Bristol stone diamonds gave strength to the blaze :
So that it was doubtful , to view the bright clusters ,
Which sent the most light out, the ear-rings or lustres.
Nor less among you was the medley, ye fair !
I believe there were some beside quality there:
Miss Spiggot , Miss Brussels , Miss Tape, and Miss Socket ,
Miss Trinket , and aunt, with her leathern pocket,
With good Mrs. Soaker, who made her old chin go ,
For hours, hobnobbing with Mrs. Syringo :
Had Tib staid at home , I b'lieve none would have miss'd her ,
Or pretty I'eg Runt, with her tight little sister, " etc. etc.
OF K. B. SHERIDAN. :>j
CHAPTER II.
Duels with Mr. Mathews. — Marriage with Miss Linlcy.
TOWARDS the close of the year 1771 , the elder Mr. Sheridan
went lo Dublin , to perform at the theatre of that city, — leaving his
young and lively family at Bath, with nothing but their hearts and
imaginations to direct them.
The following letters, which passed between him and his son
Richard during his absence, though possessing little other interest
lhan that of having been written at such a period, will not, perhaps,
be unwelcome to the reader : —
" MY DEAR RICHARD, Dublin, Dec. jlh, 1771.
" How could you be so wrong-headed as to commence cold bathing at
such a seasou of the year , and I suppose without any preparation too ?
You have paid sufficiently for your folly,, but I hope the ill effects of it
have been long since over. You and your brother are fond of quacking ,
a most dangerous disposition with regard to health Let slight things pass
away of themselves ; in a case that requires assistance do nothing without,
advice. Mr. Crook is a very able man in his way Should a physician be at
any time wauling, apply to Dr. Nesbitt, and tell him that at leaving
Bath I recommended you all to his care. This indeed 1 intended to have
mentioned to him, but it slipped my memory. I forgot Mr. Crooke's lull,
too, but desire I may have the amount by the ne*xt letter. Pray what is
the meaning of my hearing so seldom from Bath? Six weeks here, and
but two letters ! You were very tardy, what are your sisters about? I shall
not easily forgive any future omissions. I suppose Charles received my
answer to his, and the "2ol. bill from Whately. I shall order another to
be sent at Christmas for the rent and other necessaries. I have not time
at present to enter upon the subject of English authors, etc. but shall
write to you upon that head when I get a little leisure. Nothing can be
conceived in a more deplorable state than the stage of Dublin. I found
two miserable companies opposing and starving each other. I chose; tin-
least bad of them ; and, wretched as they are, it has had no effect on my
nights, numbers having been turned away every time I played , and the
receipts have been larger than when I had Barry, his wife, and Mrs. Fitz-
Henry to play with me. However, I shall not be able to continue it long,
as there is no possibility of getting up a sufficient number of plays \\illi
such poor materials. I purpose to have done the week after next , and
apply vigorously to the material point which brought me over. I find
all ranks and parlies vcrv zealous for forwarding my scheme, and hav<-
rcason to believe it will be carried in parliament after ihe recess, without
opposition. It was in vain to have attempted it before, for never was party
\ioletice' carried to such a height as in this sessions; ihc House seldom
lli'' money bill , brought forward tbis year under Lord Townsend's adim-
niMralion , encountered violent opposition, and was dually rejected.
3* MEMOIRS
breaking up till eleven or twelve at night. From those contests, the desire
of improving in the article of elocution is become very general. There
are no less than five persons of rank and fortune now waiting my leisure
to become my pupils. Remember me to all friends , particularly to our
good landlord and landlady. I am , with love and blessing to you all ,
" Your affectionate father ,
" THOMAS SHERIDAN.
" P. S. — Tell your sisters I shall send the poplins as soon as I can get
an opportunity. "
" DRAR FATHER,
" We have been for some time in hopes of receiving a letter, that we
might know that you had acquitted us of neglect in writing. At the same
time we imagine that the time is not far when writing will be unnecessary ;
and we cannot help wishing to know the posture of the affairs, which, as
you have not talked of returning, seem probable to detain you longer
than you intended. I am perpetually asked when Mr. Sheridan is to have
his patent for the theatre, which all the Irish here take for granted, and
I often receive a great deal of information from them on the subject. Yet
I cannot help being vexed when I see in the Dublin papers such bustling
accounts of the proceedings of your House of Commons , as I remember
it was your argument against attempting any thing from parliamentary
authority in England. However, the folks here regret you, as one that
is to be fixed in another kingdom, and will scarcely believe that you will
ever visit Bath at all ; and we are often asked if we have not received the
letter which is to call us over.
" I could scarcely have conceived that the winter was so near depart-
ing, were I not now writing after dinner by day-light. Indeed the first
winter season is not, yet over at Bath. They have balls , concerts, etc. , at
the rooms, from the old subscription still, and the spring ones are imme-
diately to succeed them. They are likewise going to perform oratorios
here. Mr. Linley and his whole family, down to the seven year olds, are
to support one set at the new rooms , and a band of singers from London
another at the old. Our weather here, or the effects of it, have been so
uninviting to all kinds of birds , that tlu:re has not been the smallest
excuse to take a gun into the fields this winter-, — a point niore to the
regret of Charles than myself.
" We are all now in dolefuls for the Princess Dowager ; but as there
was no necessity for our being dressed or weeping mourners , we were
easily provided. Our acquaintances stand pretty much the same as when
you left us , — only that I think in general we are less intimate, by which
I believe you will not think us great losers. Indeed, excepting Mr. Wynd-
ham , I have not met with one person with whom I would wish to he
intimate ; though there was a Mr. Lutterel, ( brother to the Colonel , ) —
who was some months ago introduced to me by an old Harrow acquaint-
ance,— who made me many professions at parting , and wanted me vastly
to name some way in which he could be useful to me; but the relying on
acquaintances , or seeking of friendships , is a fault which I think I shal I
always have prudence to avoid.
OF R. B. SHERIDA1N. S3
" Lissy begins to be tormented again with the toothache ; — otherwise,
we are all well.
" I am , Sir, your sincerely dutiful and affectionate son ,
" Friday, Feb. 29. " R. B. SHERIDAN.
'• I beg you will not judge of my attention to the improvement of my
hand-Writing by this letter, as I am out of the way of a better pen. "
Charles Sheridan , now one-and-twenty , the oldest and gravest
of the party, finding his passion for Miss Linley increase every day,
and conscious of the imprudence of yielding to it any further, wisely
determined to fly from the struggle altogether. Having taken a so-
lemn farewell of her in a letter, which his youngest sister delivered,
he withdrew to a farm-house about seven or eight miles from Bath,
little suspecting that he left his brother in full possession of that
heart , of which he thus reluctantly and hopelessly raised the siege.
Nor would this secret perhaps have been discovered for some time ,
had not another lover, of a less legitimate kind than either, by the
alarming importunity of his courtship, made an explanation on all
sides necessary.
Captain Malhews , a married man and intimate with Miss Linley's
family, presuming upon the innocent familiarity which her youth
and his own station permitted between them , had for some time
not only rendered her remarkable by his indiscreet attentions in pub-
lic , but had even persecuted her in private with those unlawful
addresses and proposals , which a timid female will sometimes rather
endure , than encounter that share of the shame which may be re-
flected upon herself by their disclosure. To the threat of self-destruc-
tion , often tried with effect in these cases , he is said to have added
the still more unmanly menace of ruining , at least , her reputation,
if he could not undermine her virtue. Terrified by his perseverance,
and dreading the consequences of her father's temper, if this viola-
tion of his confidence and hospitality were exposed to him , she at
length confided her distresses to Richard Sheridan •, who , having
consulted with his sister, and , for the first time, disclosed to her Uje
slate of his heart with respect to Miss Linley, lost no time in expos-
tulating with Malhews, upon the cruelty, libertinism, and fruil-
lessness of his pursuit. Such a remonstrance, however, was but little
calculated to conciliate the forbearance of this professed man of gal-
lantry, who, it appears by the following allusion to him under the
name of Lothario , in a poem written by Sheridan at the lime , still
counted upon the possibility o'f gaining his object, or, at least,
blighting the fruit which he could not reach : —
Nor spare the flirting Cassoc' d rogue ,
Nor auticnt Culliu's poKsh'd brogue;
Nor {,'ay Lothario's nobler name,
That Nimrod to all female fame.
3
34 MEMOIRS
In consequence of this persecution, and an increasing dislike (<»
her profession , which made her shrink more and more from the
gaze of the many, in proportion as she became devoted to the love
of one, she adopted, early in 1772, the romantic resolution of
flying secretly to France , and taking refuge in a convent , — intend--
ing, at the same time, to indemnify her father, to whom she was
bound till the age of -21 , by the surrender to him of part of the sum
which Mr. Long had settled upon her. Sheridan, who, it is pro-
bable , had been the chief adviser of her flight , was , of course , not
slow in offering to be the parlner of it. His sister, whom he seems
to have persuaded that his conduct in this affair arose solely from a
wish to serve Miss Linley, as a friend , without any design or desire
to lake advantage of her elopement , as a lover, not only assisted
Ihcm with money out of her little fund for house-expenses, but
gave them letters of introduction to a family with whom she had
been acquainted at St. Quentin. On the evening appointed for their
departure, — while Mr. Linley, his eldest son, and Miss Maria
Linley, were engaged at a concert, from which the young Cecilia
herself had been , on a plea of illness , excused , — she was conveyed
by Sheridan in a sedan-chair from her father's house in the Cres-
cent , to a post-chaise which waited for them on the London road ,
and in which she found a woman whom her lover had hired , as a
sort of protecting Minerva , to accompany them in their flight.
It will be recollected that Sheridan was at this time little more
than twenty, and his companion just entering her eighteenth year.
On their arrival in London , with an adroitness which was , at least ,
very dramatic , he introduced her to an old friend of his family
(Mr. Ewart , a respectable brandy-merchant in the city), as a rich
heiress who had consented to elope with him to the Continent 5 —
in consequence of which the old gentleman , with many commen-
dations of his wisdom, for having given up the imprudent pursuit
of Miss Linley, not only accommodated the fugitives with a passage
oo board a ship , which he had ready to sail from the port of London
lo Dunkirk , but gave them letters of recommendation to his corres-
pondents at that place , who with the same zeal and dispatch facili-
tated their journey to Lisle.
On their leaving Dunkirk , as was natural to expect , the chival-
rous and disinterested protector degenerated into a mere selfish
lover. It was represented by him , with arguments which seemed
to appeal lo prudence as well as feeling , that after the step which
they had taken , she could not possibly appear in England again but
as his wife. He was, therefore, he said, resolved not to deposit
her in a convent, till she had consented, by the ceremony of a
marriage, lo confirm to him that right of protecting her. which he
OF R. B. SHERIDAN. 35
had now but temporarily assumed. It did not, we may suppose ,
require much eloquence , to convince her heart of the truth of this
reasoning; and, accordingly, at a little village, not far from Calais ,
i hey were married about the latter end of March, 1772, by a priest
well known for his services on such occasions.
They thence immediately proceeded to Lisle , where Miss Linley,
as she must still be called , giving up her intention of going on to
St. Quenlin, procured an apartment in a convent, with the deter-
mination of remaining there , till Sheridan should have the means
of supporting her as his acknowledged wife. A letter which he
wrote to his brother from this place, dated April 15, though it
throws but little additional light on the narrative, is too interesting
an illustration of it to be omitted here.
" DEAR BROTHER,
" Most probably you will have thought me very inexcusable for not
having writ to you. You will be surprized, too, to be told that, except
vour letter jusf, after we arrived , we have never received one line from
Bath. We suppose for certain that there are letters somewhere , in which
case we shall have sent to every place almost but the right, whither, I
hope , I have now sent also. You will soon see me in England. Every
thing on our side has at last succeeded. Miss L is now fixing in a con-
vent, where she has been entered some time. This has been a much more
difficult point than you could have imagined , and we have , I find, been
extremely fortunate. Sbe has been ill , but is now recovered ; this , too ,
lias delayed me. We would have wrote, but have been kept in the most
tormenting expectation, from day to day, of receiving your letters : but,
as every thing is now so happily settled here, I will delay no longer
giving you that information , though probably I shall set out for England,
without knowing a syllable of what has happened with you. All is well
1 hope , and I hope , too , that though you may have been ignorant for
some time, of our proceedings, you never could have been uneasy lest
any thing should tempt me to depart, even in a thought, from the honour
and consistency which engaged me at first. I wrote 'to M ' above a
week ago, which I think was necessary and right. I hope he has acted tbe
one proper part which was left him ; and, to speak from my feelings , I
cannot but say that I shall be very happy to find no further disagreeable
consequence pursuing him; for, as Brutus says of Caesar, etc. — if I delay
one moment longer, I lose the post.
" I have writ now, too, to Mr. Adams, and should apologize to you
for having writ to him first and lost my time for you. Love to my sisters,
Miss L to all
" Ever, Charles, your affec*. Brother,
" R. B. SHERIDAN.
" I need not tell you that we altered quite our route."
The illness of Miss Linley, to which he alludes, and which had
been occasioned by fatigue and agitation of mind , came on some
1 Mathews.
20 MEMOIRS
days after her retirement to the convent j but an English physician/
Dr. Dolman of York , who happened to be resident in Lisle at the
time, was called in to attend her; and in order that she might be
more directly under his care, he and Mrs. Dolman invited her to
their house , where she was found by Mr. Linley, on his arrival
in pursuit of her. After a few words of private explanation from
Sheridan , which had the effect of reconciling him to his truant
daughter, Mr. Linley insisted upon her returning with him imme-
diately to England , in order to fulfil some engagements which he
had entered into on her account ; and , a promise being given that ,
as soon as these engagements were accomplished , she should be
allowed to resume her plan of retirement at Lisle , the whole party
set off amicably together for England.
On the first discovery of the elopement, the landlord of the
house in which the Sheridans resided had , from a feeling of pity
for the situation of the young ladies , — now left without the pro-
tection of either father or brother, — gone off, at br&k of day, to
the retreat of Charles Sheridan , and informed him of the event
which had just occurred. Poor Charles, wholly ignorant till then
of his brother's attachment to Miss Linley, felt all that a man may
be supposed to feel , who had but too much reason to think himself
betrayed, as well as disappointed. He hastened to Bath, where he
found a still more furious lover, Mr. Malhews , enquiring al the
house every particular of the affair, and almost avowing, in the
impotence of his rage, the unprincipled design which this summary
step had frustrated. In the course of their conversation , Charles
Sheridan let fall some unguarded expressions of anger against his
brother, which this gentleman , who seems to have been eminently
qualified fora certain line of characters indispensable in all romances,
treasured up in his memory, and, as it will appear, afterwards availed
himself of them. For the four or five weeks during which the young
couple were absent, he never ceased to haunt the Sheridan family,
with enquiries , rumours , and other disturbing visitations ; and, at
length , urged on by the restlessness of revenge , inserted the fol-
lowing violent advertisement in the Bath Chronicle : —
" Wednesday, April 8lh, 1772.
"Mr. Richard S******* having attempted, in a letter left behind him
for that purpose, to account for his scandalous method of running a\v;n
from this place, by insinuations derogating from my character, and tluit
of a young lady, innocent as far as relates to me, or my knowledge;
since which he has neither taken any notice of letters , or even informed
his own family of the place where he has hid himself; I can no longer
think he deserves the treatment of a gentleman, and therefore shall
OF R. B. SHERIDAN. 37
trouble myself no lurthci about him than , in this public method, to post
in in as a L*¥* and a treacherous S*** ***,
" And as I am convinced there have been many malevolent incendiaries
» oncerned in the propagation of his infamous lie , if any of them , unpro-
tected by age, infirmities , or profession, will dare to acknowledge the
part they have acted, and affirm to what they have said o/"me, they may
depend on receiving the proper reward of their villainy, in the most pub-
lic manner. The world will be candid enough to judge properly ( I
make no doubt) of any private abuse on this subject for the future; as
nobody can defend himself from an accusation he is ignorant of.
" THOMAS MATHEWS."
On a remonstrance from Miss Sheridan upon this outrageous
proceeding , he did not hesitate to assert that her brother Charles
was privy to it 5 — a charge which the latter with indignation repel-
led , and was only prevented by the sudden departure of Malhews
to London from calling him to a more serious account for the false-
hood.
At this period the party from the Continent arrived ; and as a de-
tail of the circumstances which immediately followed has been found
in Mr. Sheridan's own hand-writing, — drawn up hastily, it appears,
at the Parade Coffee-house , Bath , the evening before his second duel
with Mr. Malhews ,— it would be little better than profanation to
communicate them in any other words.
" It has ever been esteemed impertinent to appeal to the public in con-
cerns entirely private ; but there now and then occurs a private incident
which, by being explained , may be productive of public advantage. This
consideration, and the precedent of a public appeal in this same affair, are
my only apologies for the following lines : —
" Mr. T. Mathews thought himself essentially injured by Mr. R. She-
ridan's having co-operated in the virtuous efforts of a young lady to es-
cape the snares of vice and dissimulation. He wrote several most abusive
threats to Mr. S , then in France. He laboured, with a cruel industry,
to vilify his character in England. He publicly posted him as a scoundrel
and a liar. Mr. S. answered him from France (hurried and surprized) ,
that he would never sleep in England till he had thanked him as he de-
served.
" Mr. S- arrived in London at 9 o'clock at night. At 10 he is informed ,
by Mr. S. Ewart, that Mr. M- is in town. Mr. S. had sat up at Canterbury,
to keep his idle promise to Mr. M. — He resolved to call on him that
night , as , in case he had not found him in town , he had called on Mr.
Ewart to accompany him to Bath , being bound by Mr. Linley not to let
any thing pass between him and Mr. M. till he had arrived thither. Mr.
S. came to Mr. Cochlin's, in Crutchcd Friars, (where Mr. M. was
lodged , ) about half after twelve. The key of Mr. C.'s door was lost;
Mr. S. was denied admittance. By two o'clock he got in. Mr. M. had been
previously down to the door, and told Mr. S. he should be admitted, and
had retired to bed again. He dressed, complained of the cold,
38 MEMOIRS
voured to get heat into him , called Mr. S. his dear friend, and forced him
to — sit down.
Mr. S. had been informed that Mr. M. had sworn his death — that Mr.
M. had, in numberless companies , produced bills on France, whither he
meant to retire , on the completion of his revenge. Mr. M. had warned
Mr. Ewart to advise his friend not even to come in his way without a
sword, as he could not answer for the consequence
" Mr. M. had left two letters for Mr. S., in which he declares he is to
be met with at any hour, and begs Mr. S. will not "deprive himself of
so much sleep, or stand on any ceremony." Mr. S. called on him at the
hour mentioned. Mr. S. was admitted with the difficulty mentioned. Mr.
S. declares that , on Mr. M.'s perceiving that he came to answer then to
his challenge, he does not remember ever to have seeu a man behave so
perfectly dastardly. Mr. M. detained Mr. S. till seven o'clock the next
morning. He (Mr. M. ) said he never meant to quarrel with Mr. S. He
convinced Mr. S. that his enmity ought to be directed solely against his
brother and another gentleman at Bath. Mr. S. went to Bath '." ******
On his arrival in Bath ( whither he travelled with Miss Linley and
her Father ) , Sheridan lost not a moment in ascertaining the false-
hood of the charge against his brother. While Charles, however,
indignantly denied the flagitious conduct imputed to him by Ma-
thews , he expressed his opinion of the step which Sheridan and
Miss Linley had taken in terms of considerable warmth , which were
overheard by some of the family. As soon as the young ladies had
retired to bed, the two brothers, without any announcement of
their intention , set off post together for London, Sheridan having
previously written the following letter to Mr. Wade , the Master of
the Ceremonies.
" SIR ,
" I ought to apologize to you for troubling you again on a subject
which should concern so few.
" I find Mr. Mathews's bahaviour to have been such that I cannot be
satisfied with his concession, as a consequence of an explanation from me.
I called on Mr. Mathews last Wednesday night at Mr. Cochlin's , without
the smallest expectation of coming to any -verbal explanation with him. A
proposal of a pacific meeting the next day was the consequence, which
ended in those advertisements and the letter to you. As for Mr. Mathews's
honour or spirit in this whole affair, I shall only add that a few hours
may possibly give some proof of the latter; while, in my own justifi-
cation I affirm, that it was far from being my fault that this point now
remains to be determined.
" On discovering Mr. Mathews's benevolent interposition in my own
family, I have counterordered the advertisements that were agreed on ,
as I think even an explanation would now misbecome me ; an agree-
' The remainder of this paper is omitted, as only briefly referring to circum-
stances, which will be found more minutely detailed in another document.
OF R. R. SHERIDAN. 3!)
nient to them was the effect more of mere charity' than judgment. As 1
find it necessary to make aH my sentiments as public as possible, your
declaring this will greatly oblige,
" Your very humble Servant,
" R. B. SHERIDAN."
" Sat. 12 o'clock, May sd, 1772.
" To William Wade, Esq."
On the following day (Sunday), when the young gentlemen did
not appear, the alarm of their sisters was not a little increased , by
hearing that high words had been exchanged the evening before,
and that it was feared a duel between the brothers would be the
consequence. Though unable to credit this dreadful surmise , yet
full of the various apprehensions which such mystery was calculated
to inspire , they had instant recourse to Miss Linley, the fair Helen
of all this strife , as the person most likely to be acquainted with
their brother Richard's designs , and to relieve them from the sus-
pense under which they laboured. She . however, was as ignorant
of the transaction as themselves , and their mutual distress being
heightened by sympathy, a scene of tears and fainting-fits ensued ,
of which no less remarkable a person than Doctor Priestley, who
lodged in Mr. Linley's house at the time , happened to be a witness.
On the arrival of the brothers in town , Richard Sheridan in-
stantly called Mathews out. His second on the occasion was
Mr. Ewart, and the particulars of the duel are thus stated by
himself, in a letter which he addressed to Captain Knight, the
second of Mathews , soon after the subsequent duel in Bath.
", I. ;.- *;•:-. Hbiun oa Jni,j.{ V
"SIR,
" On the evening preceding my last meeting with Mr. Mathews ,
Mr. Barnett ' produced a paper to me, written by Mr. Mathews, con-
taining an account of our former meetings in London. As I had before
frequently heard of Mr. Mathews's relation of that affair, without inte-
resting myself much in contradicting it, I should certainly have treated
this in the same manner, had it not been seemingly authenticated by Mr.
Knight's name being subscribed to it. My asserting that the paper con-
tains much misrepresentation, equivocation, and falsity, might make it
appear strange that I should apply to you in this manner for information
on the subject: but, as it likewise contradicts what I have been told
were Mr. Knight's sentiments and assertions on that affair, I think I
owe it to his credit, as well as my own justification, first, to be satisfied
from himself whether he really subscribed and will support the truth
to the account shown by Mr. Mathews. Give me leave previously to re-
late what / have affirmed to have been a real state of our meeting in
London , and which I am now ready to support on my honour, or my
' The friend ofMathcws in llie second duel.
40 MEMOIRS
oath , as the best account I can give of Mr. Mathews's relation is, that it is
almost directly opposite to mine.
" Mr. Ewart accompanied me to Hyde Park, about six in the evening,
where wemetyou andMr. Mathews, and we walked together to the ring
Mr. Mathews refusing to makeany other acknowledgment than lie had done,
I observed that we were come to the ground : Mr. Mathews objected to the
spot, and appealed to you.— We proceeded to the back of a building on the
other side of the ring, the ground was there perfectly level. I called on him,
and drew my sword (he having previously declined pistols). Mr. Ewart ob-
served a sentinel on the other side of the building ; we advanced to another
part of the park «I stopped again at a seemingly convenient place : Mr. Ma-
thews objected to the observation of some people at a great distance, and
proposed to retire to the Hercules ' Pillars till the park should be clear : we
did so. In a little time we returned. — I again drew my sword ; Mr. Ma-
thews again objected to the observation of a person who seemed to watch
us. Mr. Ewart observed that the chance was equal, and engaged that no one
should stop him, should it be necessary for him to retire to the gate, where
we had a chaise and four, which was equally at his service. Mr. Mathews
declared th«it he would not engage while any one was within sight, and
proposed to defer it till next morning. I turned to you , and said that
* this was trifling work ,' that I could not admit of any delay, and enga-
ged to remove the gentleman (who proved to be an officer, and who,
on my going up to him , and assuring him that any interposition
would be ill timed, politely retired). Mr. Mathews, in the meantime,
had returned towards the gate ; Mr. Ewart and I called to you , and
followed. We returned to the Hercules' Pillars, and went from thence,
by agreement to the Bedford Coffee House, where, the master being
alarmed, you came and conducted us to Mr. Mathews at the Castle
Tavern, Henrietta Street. Mr. Ewart took lights up in his hand, and
almost immediately on our entering the room we engaged. I struck
Mr. Mathews's point so much out of the line , that I stepped up and
caught hold of his wrist, or the hilt of his sword, while the point of
mine was at his breast. You ran in and caught hold of my arm, exclaim-
ing, ' don't kill him.'' I struggled to disengage my arm, and said his
sword w?s in my power. Mr. Mathews called out twice or thrice ,
' / beg my life.' — We were parted. You immediately said , ' there , he has
begged his life, and now there is an end of it;' and Mr. Ewart's saying
that , when his sword was in my power, as I attempted no more , you
should not have interfered, you replied that you were wrongful that you
had done it hastily, and to prevent mischief— or words to that effect.
Mr. Mathews then hinted that I was rather obliged to your interposition
for the advantage : you declared that ' before you did so , both the swords
were in Mr. Sheridan's power.' Mr. Mathews still seemed resolved to
give it another turn , and observed that he had never quitted his sword.
— Provoked at this, I then swore, with too much heat perhaps, that he
should either give up his sword and I would break it, or go to his guard
again. He refused — but, on my persisting, ^either gave it into my hand,
or flung it on the table, or the ground (which, I will not. absolutely affirm).
I broke it , and flung the hilt to the other end of the room. He exclaimed
at this. I took a mourning sword from Mr. Ewart, and presenting him
OF K. R. SHERIDAN. 41
with mine, gave my honour that what had passed should never be men-
tioned by me, and lie might now right himself again. He replied that
he * would never draw a sword against the man who had given him
his life ; ' — but, on his still exclaiming against the indignity of breaking
his sword (which he had brought upon himself), Mr. Ewart offered him
the pistols, and some altercation passed between them. Mr. Mathews
said, that he could never show his face, if it were known how his sword
-was broke — that such a thing had never been done — that it cancelled
all obligations , etc. etc. You seemed to think it was wrong, and we
both proposed , that if he never misrepresented the affair, it should not
be mentioned by us. This was settled. I then asked Mr. Mathews, whe-
ther (as he had expressed himself sensible of, and shocked at the injustice
and indignity he had done me in his advertisement) it did not occur to
him that he owed me another satisfaction ; and that, as it was now in his
power to do it without discredit, I supposed, he would not hesitate. This
he absolutely refused, unless conditionally; I insisted on it, and said I
would not leave the room till it was settled. After much altercation, and
iv i th much ill-grace, he gave the apology, which afterwards appeared.
W7e parted, and I returned immediately to Bath. I, theret, to Colonel
Gould , Captain Wade, Mr. Greaser, and others , mentioned the affair to
Mr. Mathews's credit — said that chance having given me the advantage ,
Mr. Mathews had consented to that apology, and mentioned nothing of
the sword. Mr. Mathews came down, and in two days I found the whole
affair had been stated in a different light, and insinuations given out to
the same purpose as in the paper, which has occasioned this trouble. 1
had undoubted authority that these accounts proceeded from Mr. Ma-
thews , and likewise that Mr Knight had never had any share in them. I
then thought I no longer owed Mr. Mathews the compliment to conceal
any circumstance , and I related the affair to several gentlemen exactly
as above.
" Now, sir, as I have put down nothing in this account but upon the
most assured recollection, and, as Mr. Mathews's paper either directly
or equivocally contradicts almost every article of it, and as your name
is subscribed to that paper, I flatter myself that I have a right to expect
your answer to the following questions : — First,
" Is there any falsity or misrepresentation in what I have advanced
above ?
" With regard to Mr. Mathews's paper— did I, in the park, seem in the
smallest article inclined to enter into conversation with Mr. Mathews? —
He insinuates that I did.
" Did Mr. Mathews not beg his life? — He affirms he did not.
"Did I break his sword without warning ? — He affirms I did it with-
out warning , on his laying it on the table.
"Did I not offer him mine? — He omits it.
" Did Mr. Mathews give me the apology as a point of generosity, on my
desisting f» demand it? — He affirms he did.
" I shall now give my reasons for doubting your having authenticated
this paper.
" i . Because I think it full of falsehood and misrepresentation, and Mr.
Knight has the character of a man of truth and honour.
4i MEMOIRS
" a. When you were at Bath , I was informed that you had never ex
pressed any such sentiments.
"3. I have been told that, in Wales, Mr. Mathews never told hi*
story in the presence of Mr Knight, who had never there insinuated
anything to my disadvantage.
" 4- The paper shown me by Mr. Barnett contains (if my memory does
not deceive me) three separate sheets of writing-paper. Mr. Knight's
evidence is annexed to the last, which contains chiefly a copy of our
first proposed advertisements , which Mr. Mathews had, in Mr. Knight's
presence, agreed should be destroyed as totally void; and which (in a
letter to Colonel Gould, by whom I had insisted on it) he declared
upon his honour he knew nothing about , nor should ever make the
least use of.
" These, sir, are my reasons for applying to yourself, in preference
to any appeal to Mr. Ewart, my second on that occasion , which is what
I would wish to avoid. As for Mr. Mathews's assertions, I shall never be
concerned at them. I have ever avoided any verbal altercation with that
gentleman, and he has now secured himself from any other.
" I am your very humble servant ,
" R. B SHERIDAN."
It was not till Tuesday morning that the young ladies at Bath
were relieved from their suspense by the return of the two brothers ,
who entered evidently much fatigued , not having been in bed since
they left home , and produced the apology of Mr. Mathews , which
was instantly sent to Crulwcll for insertion. It was in the following
terms : —
" Being convinced that the expressions I made use of to Mr. Sheri-
dan's disadvantage were the effects of passion and misrepresentation, I
retract what I have said to that gentleman's disadvantage, and parti-
cularly beg his pardon for my advertisement in the Bath Chronicle.
"THOMAS MATHEWS '."
With the odour of this transaction fresh about him , Mr. Mathews
retired to his estate in Wales, and, as he might have expected,
found himself universally shunned. An apology may be, according
to circumstances , either the noblest effort of manliness or the last
resource of fear, and it was evident, from the reception which this
gentleman experienced every where, that the former, at least, was
not the class to which his late retraction had been referred. In this
crisis of his character, a Mr. Barnett, who had but lately come to
reside in his neighbourhood , observing with pain the mortifications
1 This appeared in the Bath Chronicle of May 7th. In another part of the same
paper there is the following paragraph: — "We can with anthority contradict the
account iu the London Evening Post of last night, of a duelbetween Mr. M — t — ws
and Mr. S — r — n, as to the time and event of their meeting, Mr. S. having heen
at this place on Saturday, and both these gentlemen heing here at present."
OF R. B. SHERIDAN. 4:5
to which he was exposed, and perhaps thinking them , in some de-
gree , unmerited , took upon him to urge earnestly the necessity
of a second meeting with Sheridan , as the only means of removing
(he stigma left by the first 5 and , with a degree of Irish friendliness ,
not forgotten in the portrait of Sir Lucius OTrigger, offered him-
self to be the bearer of the challenge. The desperation of persons
in Mr. Mattiews's circumstances , is in general much more formid-
able than the most acknowledged valour $ and we may easily believe
that it was with no ordinary eagerness he accepted the proposal
of his new ally, and proceeded with him , full of vengeance , to
Bath.
The elder Mr. Sheridan , who had but just returned from Ireland,
and been with some little difficulty induced to forgive Ins son for
the wild achievements he had been engaged in during his absence ,
was at this lime in London , making arrangements for the de-
parture of his favourite , Charles , who , through the interest of
Mr. Wheatley, an old friend of the family, had been appointed
Secretary to the Embassy in Sweden. Miss Linley — wife and no
wife , — obliged to conceal from the world what her heart would
have been most proud to avow, was also absent from Bath, being
engaged at the Oxford music-meeting. The letter containing the
preliminaries of the challenge was delivered by Mr. jtarnett , with
rather unnecessary cruelty, into the hands of Miss Sheridan , under
the pretext , however, that it was a note of invitation for her bro-
ther, and on the following morning , before it was quite daylight ,
the parties met at Kingsdown— Mr. Mathews, attended by his neigh-
bour Mr. Barnetl, and Sheridan by a gentleman of the name of
Paumier, nearly as young as himself, and but little qualified for a
trust of such importance and delicacy.
The account of the duel , which I shall here subjoin, was drawn
up some months after, by the second of Mr. Malhews , and depo-
sited in the hands of Captain Wade, the master of the ceremonies.
Though somewhat partially coloured , and (according to Mr. Sheri-
dan's remarks upon it, which shall be noticed presently) incorrect
in some particulars , it is , upon the whole , perhaps as accurate a
statement as could be expected , and received , as appears by the
following letter from Mr. Brcrcton (another of Mr. Sheridan's in-
timate friends), all the sanction that Captain Paumier's concurrence
in the truth of its most material facts could furnish.
" DEAR SIR ,
" In consequence of some reports spread to the disadvantage of Mr.
M. (thews, it seems lie obtained from Mr. Baructt an impartial relation
"! ihc last allair ^vitli Mi . Sheridan, directed to you. This account Mr.
44 MEMOIRS
Panniicr has seen , and 1 , at Mr. Malhews's desire , inquired from him if
he thought it true and impartial : he says it differs , in a few immaterial
circumstances only, from his opinion, and lias given me authority to de
clare this to you.
"I am, dear Sir,
"Your most humble and obedient servant,
(Signed) "WILLIAM BHERETOU."
"Bath, Oct. 24. 1772.
Copy of a paper left by Mr. Burnett in the Hands of Captain Willuim
Wnde , Master of the Ceremonies at Bath.
" On quitting our chaises at the top of Kingsdown , I entered into a
conversation with Captain Paumier, relative to some preliminaries I
thought ought to be settled in an affair which was likely to end very se-
riously;— particularly the method of using their pistols, which Mr. Ma-
thews had repeatedly signified his desire to use prior to swords , from a
conviction that Mr. Sheridan would run in on him , and an ungentle-
manlike scuffle probably be the consequence. This, however, was re-
fused by Mr. Sheridan , declaring he had no pistols : Captain Paumier
replied he had a brace (which I know were loaded). — By my advice,
Mr. Mathews's were not loaded, as I imagined it was always customary
to load on the field , which I mentioned to Captain Paumier at the White-
Hart , before we went out , and desired he would draw his pistols. He
replied, as the*y were already loaded, and they going on a public road
at that time of the morning, he might as well let them remain so, till we
got to the place appointed , when he would on his honour draw them ,
which I am convinced he would have done had there been time; but
Mr. Sheridan immediately drew his sword, and, in a vaunting manner,
desired Mr. Mathews to draw (their ground was very uneven, and near
the post-chaise). — Mr. Mathews drew; Mr. Sheridan advanced on him
at first ; Mr. Mathews in turn advanced fast on Mr. Sheridan ; upon which
he retreated, till he very suddenly ran in upon Mr. Mathews, laying
himself exceedingly open , and endeavouring to get hold of Mr. Mathews's
sword; Mr. Mathews received him on his point, and, I believe, disen-
gaged his sword from 3Ir. Sheridan's body, and gave him another wound;
which , I suppose , must have been either against one of his ribs , or his
breast-bone, as his sword broke, which I imagine happened from the
resistance it met with from one of those parts , but whether it was broke
by that, or on the closing, I cannot aver.
" Mr. Mathews, I think, on finding his sword broke, laid hold of Mr.
Sheridan's sword-arm, and tripped up his heels : they both fell ; Mr. Ma-
thews was uppermost, with the hilt of his sword in his hand, having
about six or seven inches of the blade to it, with which I saw him give
Mr. Sheridan, as I imagined, a skin-wound or two in the neck ; for it
could be no more, — the remaining part of the sword being broad and
blunt ; he also beat him in the face either with his fist or the hilt of his
sword. Upon this I turned from them, and asked Captain Paumier if we
should not take them up ; but I cannot say whether he heard me or not,
as there was a good deal of noise; however, he made no reply. I again
OF R. B. SHERIDAN. 45
turned to the combatants , who were much in the same situation : I found
Mr. Sheridan's sword was bent, and he slipped his hand up the small
part of it, and gave Mr. Mathews a slight wound in the left part of his
belly : I that instant turned again to Captain Paumier, and proposed
again our taking them up. He in the same moment called out , ' Oh ! he
is killed , he is killed ! ' — I as quick as possible turned again , and found
Mr. Mathews had recovered the point of his sword , that was before on
the ground, with which he had wounded Mr. Sheridan in the belly : 1
saw him drawing the point out of the wound. By this time Mr. Sheri-
dan's sword was broke, which he told us. — Captain Paumier called out
to him , ' My dear Sheridan , beg your life, and I will be yours for ever.'
I also desired him to ask his life : he replied, 'No, by God , I won't.' I
then told Captain Paumier it would not do to wait for those punctilios
( or words to that effect ) , and desired he would assist me in taking them
up. Mr. Mathews most readily acquiesced first, desiring me to see Mr.
Sheridan was disarmed. I desired him to give me the tuck, which he
readily did, as did Mr. Sheridan the broken part of his sword to Captain
Paumier. Mr. Sheridan and Mr. Mathews both got up, the former was
helped into one of the chaises, and drove off for Bath, and Mr. Mathews
made the best of his way for London.
" The whole of this narrative I declare , on the word and honour of a
gentleman , to be exactly true ; and that Mr. Mathews discovered as much
genuine , cool, and intrepid resolution as man could do.
" I think I may be allowed to be an impartial relater of facts, as my
motive for accompanying Mr. Mathews was no personal friendship, (not
having any previous intimacy, or being barely acquainted with him, )
but from a great desire of clearing up so ambiguous an affair, without
prejudice to either parly, — which a stranger was judged the most proper
to do, — particularly as Mr. Mathews had been blamed before for taking
a relation with him on a similar occasion.
( Signed ) " WILLIAM BARNKTT."
" October, 1772.
1 The following account is given as an ''fextract of a Letter from Bath," in
the St. James's Chronicle, July 4 : "Young Sheridan and Captain Mathevvs of
this town, who lately had a rencontre in a tavern in London, upon account of
the maid of Bath, Miss Liiiley, have had another this morning upon Kingsdown ,
about four miles hence. Sheridan is much wounded , but whether niortally or not
is yet uncertain. Both their swords breaking upon the first lunge, they threw each
other down, and with the broken pieces hacked at each other rolling upon the
ground, the seconds standing by, quiet spectators. Mathews is but slightly
wounded, and is since gone off." The Bath Chronicle, on the day after the dnel
(July 2d), gives the particulars thus: — "This morning about three o'clock, a
second duel was fought with swords between Captain Mathews and Mr. R. She •
ridan , on Kiugsdown , near this city, in consequence of their former dispute
respecting an amiable young lady, which Mr. M. considered as improperly adjust-
ed; Mr. S. having since their first rencontre, declared his sentiments respecting
Mr. M. in a manner that the former thought required satisfaction. Mr. Sheridan
received three or four wounds in his breast and sides, and now lies very ill-
Mr. M. was only slightly wounded, and left this city soon after the affair was
over."
4C, MEMOIRS
The comments which Mr. Sheridan thought it necessary to make
upon this narrative have been found in an unfinished state among his
papers ; and though they do not , as far as they go , disprove any
thing material in its statements, (except, perhaps, with respect to
the nature of the wounds which he received,) yet, as containing
some curious touches of character , and as a document which he
himself thought worth preserving , it is here inserted.
" To William Barnetl , Esq.
"SIR,
" It has always appeared to me so impertinent for individuals to
appeal to the public on transactions merely private, that I own the
most apparent necessity does not prevent my entering into such a
dispute without an awkward consciousness of its impropriety. Indeed, I
am not without some apprehension, that I may have no right to plead
your having led the way in my excuse ; as it appears not improbable that
some ill-wisher to you, Sir, and the cause you have been engaged in ,
betrayed you first into this exact narrative , and then exposed it to the
public eye, under pretence of vindicating your friend. However, as it is
l he opinion of some of my friends , that I ought not to suffer these papers
(o pass wholly unnoticed , I shall make a few observations on them , with
that moderation which becomes one who is highly conscious of the im-
propriety of staking his single assertion against tbe apparent testimony
of three. This, I say, wouldbe an impropriety, as I am supposed to write to
those who are not acquainted with tbe parties. I had some time ago a copy
of these papers from Captain "Wade, who informed me that tbey were
lodged in bis hands, to be made public only by judicial authority. I wrote
to you, Sir, on tbe subject, to have from yourself an avowal tbat the ac-
count was yours ; but as I received no answer, I have reason to compli-
ment you with tbe supposition that you are not tbe author of it. How-
ever, as tbe name William Barnctt is subscribed to it , you must accept
my apologies for making use of that as the ostensible signature of
tbe writer. — Mr. Paumier likewise (the gentleman who went out with
me on that occasion in the character of a second ) having assented to
every thing material in it, I sball suppose the wbole account likewise to
be bis ; and *s there are some circumstances which could come from no
one but Mr. Matbews, I sball (without meaning to take from its autho-
rity ) suppose it to be Mr. Matbews's also.
As it is highly indifferent to me whether the account I am to observe
on be considered as accurately true or not, and I believe it is of very
little consequence to any one else, I shall make tbose observations just
in tbe same manner as I conceive any indifferent person of common sense,
wbo should think it worth his while to peruse the matter with any de-
gree of attention. In this light, the truth of the articles which are as-
serted under Mr. Barnett's name is what I have no business to meddle
with; but, if it should appear that this accurate narrative frequently
contradicts itself as well as all probability, and tbat there are some posi-
tive facts against it, which do not depend upon any one's assertion, I
OF R. B. SHERIDAN. '•?
I7iust repeat that I shall either compliment Mr. Barnett's judgment, in
supposing it not liis, or his humanity in proving the narrative to par-
take of that confusion and uncertainty, which his well-wishers will plead
to have possessed him in the transaction. On this account, what I shall
say on the subject need he no further addressed to you ; and , indeed, it
is idle, in my opinion, to address even the publisher of a newspaper on
a point that can concern so few, and ought to have been forgotten by
them. This you must take as my excuse for having neglected the matter
so long.
" The first point in Mr. Barnctt's narrative that is of the least conse-
quence to take notice of, is, where Mr. M. is represented as having re-
peatedly signified his desire to use pistols prior to swords from a convic-
tion that Mr. Sheridan would run in upon him , and an ungentlemanlike
scuffle probably be the consequence. This is one of those articles which
evidently must be given to Mr. Mathews : for, as Mr. B.'s part is simply to
relate a matter of fact, of which he was an eye-witness, he is by no
means to answer for Mr. Mathews's private convictions. As this insinua-
tion bears an obscure allusion to a past transaction of Mr. M.'s, 1 doubt
not. but he will be surprized at my indifference in not taking the trouble
even to explain it. However, I cannot forbear to observe here that had I T
at the period which this passage alludes to , known what was the theory
which Mr. M. held of gentemanly scuffle, I might , possibly, have been
so unhappy as to have put it out of his power ever to have brought it
into practice.
"Mr. B. now charges me with having cut short a number of pretty
preliminaries, concerning which he was treating with Captain Paumier ,
by drawing my sword, and, in a vaunting manner, desiring Mr. M. to
draw. Though I acknowledge (with deference to these gentlemen) the
full right of interference which seconds have on such occasions , yet I may
remind Mr. B. that he was acquainted with my determination with regard
to pistols before we went on the Down , nor could I have expected it to
have been proposed. 'Mr. M. drew; Mr. S. advanced, etc. :' — here let
me remind Mr. B. of a circumstance, which I am convinced his memory
\vill at once acknowledge."
This paper ends here : but in a rougher draught of the same
letter (for he appears to have studied and corrected it with no com-
mon care) the remarks are continued, in a hand not very legible,
thus:
" But Mr. B. here represents me as drawing my sword in a vaunting
manner. This I take to be a reflection ; and can only say, that a person's
demeanour is generally regulated by their idea of their antagonist, and
for what I know, 1 may now be writing in a vaunting style. Here let me
remind Mr. B. of an omission, which, I am convinced, nothing but
want of recollection could occasion , yet which is a material point in an
• •xact account of such an affair, nor does it reflect in the least on Mr. M.
Mr. M. could not possibly have drawn his sword on my calling to him as
It is impossible to make any connected sense of the passage that follows,
48 MEMOIRS
" Mr. B.'s account proceeds, that I 'advanced first on Mr. M.,' etc. ;
•which , ( says Mr. B. ) I imagine , happened from the resistance it met
with from one of those parts ; but whether it was broke by that or on the
closing, I cannot aver.' How strange is the confusion here! — First, it
certainly broke; — whether it broke against rib or no, doubtful; — then,
indeed, whether it broke at all, uncertain. * * * * But of all times
Mr. B. could not have chosen a worse than this for Mr. M.'s s\vord to
break ; for the relating of the action unfortunately carries a contradiction
with it; — since if, on closing, Mr. M. received me on his point , it is not
possible for him to have made a lunge of such a nature as to break his
sword against a rib-bone But as the time chosen is unfortunate, so is the
place on which it is said to have broke, — as Mr. B. might have been in-
formed , by inquiring of the surgeons , that I had no wounds on my breast
or rib with the point of a sword, they being the marks of the jagged
and blunted part."
He was driven from the ground to the While-Hart •, where Ditcher
and Sharpe , the most eminent surgeons of Bath , attended and
dressed his wounds , — and , on the following day , at the request of
his sisters, he was carefully removed to his own home. The news-
papers, which contained the account of the affair, and even stated that
Sheridan's life was in danger, reached the Linleys at Oxford, during
the performance , but were anxiously concealed from Miss Linley by
her father , who knew that the intelligence would totally disable her
from appearing. Some persons, who were witnesses of the per-
formance that day , still talk of the touching effect which her beauty
and singing produced upon all present, — aware, as they were,
that a heavy calamity had befallen her , of which she herself was
perhaps the only one in the assembly ignorant.
In her way back to Bath , she was met at some miles from the
town by a Mr. Panton , a clergyman , long intimate with the family ,
who , taking her from her father's chaise into his own , employed
the rest of the journey in cautiously breaking to her the particulars
of the alarming event that had occurred. Notwithstanding this pre-
caution, her feelings were so taken by surprise, that, in the distress
of the moment, she let the secret of her heart escape, and passionately
exclaimed, "My husband! my husband!" — demanding to see him,
and insisting upon her right as his wife to be near him , and watch over
him day and night. Her entreaties , however, could not be complied
with ; for the elder Mr. Sheridan , on his return from town , incensed
and grieved at the catastrophe to which his son's imprudent passion
had led , refused for some lime even to see him , and strictly forbade
all intercourse between his daughlers and the Linley family. But
the appealing looks of a brother, lying wounded and unhappy, had
more power over their hearts than the commands of a father , and
OF R. B. SHERIDAN. 4(T
Ihey , accordingly , contrived to communicate intelligence of the
lovers to each other.
In flic following letter . addressed to him by Charles at this time ,
\\c can trace (hat difference between the dispositions of the brothers,
which, with every one except their father, rendered Richard, in
>pile of all his faults, by far the most popular and beloved of the
two.
.
London, July "5d. 1772.
"DEAR DICK,
"It was with the deepest concern 1 received the late accounts of you,
though it was somewhat softened by the assurance of your not being in
the least danger. You cannot conceive the uneasiness it occasioned to my
father. Both he and I were resolved to believe the best, and to suppose
you safe, but then we neither of us could approve of the cause in which
you suffer. All your friends here condemned you. You risked every thing,
where you had nothing to gain, to give your antagonist the thing he
wished , a chance for recovering his reputation. Your courage was past
dispute :- he wanted to get rid of the contemptible opinion he was held
in , and you were good-natured enough to let him do it at your expense.
It is not now a time to scold, but all your friends were of opinion, you
could, with the greatest propriety, have refused to meet him. For my
part, I shall suspend my judgment till better informed, only I cannot
forgive your preferring swords.
" I am exceedingly unhappy at the situation 1 leave you in with res-
pect to money matters , the more so as it is totally out of my power to be
of any use to you. Ewart was greatly vexed at the manner of your draw-
ing for the last 2o/. — I own, I think with some reason.
" As to old Ewart, what you were talking about is absolutely impos-
sible; he is already surprized at Mr. Linley's long delay, and, indeed, I
think the latter much to blame in this respect. I did intend to give you
some account of myself since my arrival here , but you cannot conceive
how I have been hurried , — even much pressed for time at this present
writing. I must therefore conclude, with wishing you speedily restored
to health, and that if I could make your purse as whole as that will short-
ly be , I hope , it would make me exceedingly happy.
" I am , dear Dick , yours sincerely,
" C. F. SHERIDAN."
Finding that the suspicion of their marriage , which Miss Linley's
unguarded exclamation had suggested , was gaining ground in the
mind of both fathers , — who seemed equally determined to break the
tie, if they could arrive at some positive proof of its existence, —
Sheridan wrote frequently to his young wife , (who passed most of
this iinxious period with her relations at Wells,) cautioning her
against being led into any acknowledgment, which might further
the views c.f the elders against their happiness. Many methods \\eiv
4
50 MEMOIRS
tried upon both sides, to ensnare them into a confession of this na-
ture ; but they eluded every effort, and persisted in attributing the
avowal which had escaped from Miss Linley before Mr. Pan ton and
others, to the natural agitation and bewilderment into which her
mind was thrown at the instant.
As soon as Sheridan was sufficiently recovered of his wounds ',
his father , in order to detach him , as much as possible , from the
dangerous recollections which continually presented themselves in
Bath , sent him to pass some months at Waltham Abbey , in Essex ,
under the care of Mr. and Mrs. Parker of Farm Hill, his most
particular friends. In this retirement, where he continued, with
but few and short intervals of absence , from August or September,
1772, till the spring of the following year , it is probable that, not-
withstanding the ferment in which his -heart was kept , he occa-
sionally and desultorily occupies his hours in study. Among other
proofs of industry , which I have found among his manuscripts ,
and which may possibly be referred to this period , is an abstract of
the History of England — nearly filling a small quarto volume of
more than a hundred pages , closely written. I have also found in
his early hand-writing (for there was a considerable change in his
writing afterwards) a collection of remarks on Sir William Temple's
works , which may likewise have been among the fruits of his
reading at Waltham Abbey.
These remarks are confined chiefly to verbal criticism, and prove,
in many instances , that he had not yet quite formed his taste to that
idiomatic English , which was afterwards one of the great charms
of his own dramatic style. For instance , he objects to the following
phrases : — " Then I fell to my task again." " These things come,
with time, to be habitual." — " By which these people come to be
either scattered or destroyed." — "Which alone could pretend to
contest it with them :" (upon which phrase he remarks, " It refers
to nothing here :") and the following graceful idiom in some verses
by Temple :—
• " Thy busy bead can find no gentle rest
For thinking ou the events ," etc. etc.
Some of his observations , however , are just and tasteful. Upon
the Essay " Of Popular Discontents,'1 after remarking that "Sir
W. T. opens all his Essays with something as foreign to the pur-
pose as possible," he has the following criticism : — "Page 260.
' The Bath Chronicle of the 9th of Jnly has the following paragraph: — "It is
with great pleasure we inform onr readers that Mr. Sheridan is declared by his
surgeon to b« out of danger."
OF R. B. SHERIDAN. 51
' Represent misfortunes for faults, and mole-hills for mountains?
— Hie metaphorical and literal expression too often coupled. P. 262.
* Upon these four wheels the chariot of stale may in all appearance
drive easy and safe, or at least not be too much shaken by the
usual roughness of ways, unequal humouj's of men , or any com-
mon accidents, '—another instance of the confusion of the meta-
phorical and literal expression."
Among the passages he quotes from Temple's verses , as faulty ,
is the following : —
" — tliat we may see
Thwi art indeed the empress of the tea."
It is curious enough , that he himself was afterwards guilty of
nearly as illicit a rhyme in his song " When 'tis night," and always*
defended it : —
" But wheu the Cglit's begun ,
Kacli serving at his gun.'
Whatever grounds there may be for referring these labours of
Sheridan to the period of his retirement at Waltham Abbey , there
are certainly but few other intervals in his life that could be selected
as likely to have afforded him opportunities of reading. Even here ,
however , the fears and anxieties that beset him were too many and
incessant to leave much leisure for the pursuits of scholarship.
However a stale of excitement may be favourable to the develop-
ment of genius — which is often of the nalure of Ihose seas, thai
become more luminous the more they are agitated , — (jpr a student
a far different mood is necessary ; and in order ot reflect with clear-
ness the images thai study presents, the mind should have its surface
level and unruffled.
The situation , indeed , of Sheridan was at this time particularly
perplexing. He had won the heart , and even hand, of the woman
he loved , yet saw his hopes of possessing her farther off than ever.
He had twice risked his life against an unworthy antagonist , yet
found the vindication of his honour still incomplete , from the mis-
representations of enemies , and the yet more mischievous testimony
of friends. He felt within himself all the proud consciousness
of genius, yet, thrown on the world without even a. profession,
looked in vain for a channel through which to direct its energies.
Even the precarious hope which his father's favour held out, had
been purchased by an act of duplicity whirh his conscience could
not approve ; for he had been induced , with the view , perhaps, of
blinding his father's vigilance , not only to promise that he would
instantly give up a pursuit so unpleasing to him , but to take lt an
oalh equivocal " that he never would marry Miss Linley.
MEMOIRS
The pressure of these various anxieties upon so young and so
ardent a mind , and their effects in alternately kindling and damp-
ing its spirit , could only have been worthily described by him who
felt them ; and there still exist some letters , which he wrote during
this time , to a gentleman well known as one of his earliest and latest
friends. I had hoped that such a picture , as these letters must
exhibit, of his feelings at that most interesting period , of his pri-
vate life , would not have been lost to the present work. But scru-
ples— over-delicate , perhaps , but respectable , as founded upon a
systematic objection to the exposure of any papers received under
the seal of private frienship — forbid the publication of these precious
documents. The reader must , therefore , be satisfied with the few
distant glimpses of their contents , which are afforded by the an-
swers of his correspondent, found among the papers entrusted to
me. From these it appears, that through all his letters the same strain
of sadness and despondency prevailed , — sometimes breaking out
into aspirings of ambition, and sometimes rising into a tone of cheer-
fulness , which bill ill concealed the melancholy under it. It is evi-
dent also, and not a little remarkable, that in none of these over-
flow ings of his confidence had he as yet suffered the secret of his
French marriage with Miss Linley to escape -, and that his friend
accordingly knew but half the wretched peculiarities of his situation.
Like most lovers , too , imagining that every one who approached
his mistress must be equally intoxicated with her beauty as himself,
he seems anxiously to have cautioned his young correspondent (who
occasionally saw her at Oxford and at Bath) against the danger that
lay in suchlrresistible charms. From another letter, where the wri-
ter refers to some message , which Sheridan had requested him to
deliver to Miss Linley, we learn, that she was at this time so strictly
watched , as to be unable to achieve — what to an ingenious woman
is seldom difficult — an answer to a letter which her lover had con-
trived to convey to her.
It was at first the intention of the elder Mr. Sheridan to send his
daughters , in the course of this autumn , under the care of their
brother Richard, to France. But, fearing to entrust them to a guar-
dian, who seemed himself so much in need of direction, he altered
his plan, and, about the beginning of October, having formed an
engagement for the ensuing winter with the manager of the Dublin
theatre , gave up his house in Bath , and set out with his daughters
for Ireland. At the same time Mr. Grenville (afterwards Marquis of
Buckingham), who had passed a great part of this and the preceding
summer at Bath , for the purpose of receiving instruction from
Mr. Sheridan in elocution, went also to Dublin on a short visit , ac-
companied by Mr. Cleaver, and by his brother Mr. Thomas Grcn-
OF R. B. SHKHIDAN. 53
ville — between whom and Richard Sheridan an intimacy had al this
period commenced , which continued with uninterrupted cordiality
ever after.
Some lime previous to the departure of the elder Mr. Sheridan
for Ireland , having taken before a magistrate the depositions of the
postilions who were witnesses of the duel at Kingsdown , he had.
earnestly entreated of his son to join him in a prosecution against
Mathews, whose conduct on the occasion he and others considered
as by no means that of a fair and honourable antagonist. It was in
contemplation of a measure of this nature, that the account of the
meeting already given was drawn up by Mr. Barnett, and deposited
in the hands' of Captain Wade. Though Sheridan refused to join in
legal proceedings — from an unwillingness , perhaps , to keep Miss
Linley's name any longer ailoat upon public conversation — yet this
revival of the subject , and the conflicting statements to which it gave
rise , produced naturally in both parties a relapse of angry feelings,
which was very near ending in a third duel between them. The au-
thenticity given by Captain Paurnier's name fo a narrative which
Sheridan considered false and injurious , was for some time a source
of considerable mortification to him ; and it must be owned , that
the helpless irresolution of this gentleman during the duel , and his
weak acquiescenee in these misrepresentations afterwards , showed
him as unfit to be trusted with the life as with the character of his
friend.
How nearly this new train of misunderstanding had led to ano-
ther explosion , appears from one of the letters already referred to ,
written in December, and directed to Sheridan at the Bedford Coffee-
house , Covent-Garden , in which the writer expresses the most
friendly and anxious alarm at the intelligence which he has just re-
ceived,— implores of Sheridan to moderate his rage ., and reminds
him how often he had resolved never to have any concern with Ma-
thews again. Some explanation , however, took place , as we collect
from a letter dated a few days later ; and the world was thus spared
not only such an instance of inveteracy, as three duels between the
same two men would have exhibited , but , perhaps , the premature
loss of a life to which we are indebted, for an example as noble in its
excitements , and a lesson as useful in its warnings , as ever genius
and its errors have bequeathed to mankind.
The following Lent Miss Linley appeared in the oratorios at Co-
vent-Garden ; and Sheridan, who, from the nearness of his retreat to
London , (to use a phrase of his own , repeated in one of his friund's
letters,) " trod upon the heels of perilous probabilities," though
prevented by the vigilance of her father from a private interview, had
frequent opportunities of seeing her in public. Among many other
5i MEiMOIRS
stratagems which he contrived, for the purpose of exchanging a few
words with her, he more than once disguised himself as a hackney-
coachman , and drove her home from the theatre.
It appears, however, that a serious misunderstanding at this lime
occurred between them , — originating probably in some of those
paroxysms of jealousy, into which a lover like Sheridan must have
been continually thrown , by the numerous admirers and pursuers
of all kinds, which the beauty and celebrity of his mistress attracted.
Among various alliances invented for her by the public at this pe-
riod , it was rumoured that she was about to be married to Sir Tho-
mas Clarges ; and in the Bath Chronicle of April, 1273 , a corres-
pondence is given as authentic between her and " Lord Grosvenor,"
which , though pretty evidently a fabrication , yet proves the high
opinion entertained of the purity of her character. The correspond-
ence is thus introduced , in a letter to the editor : — "The following
letters are confidently said to have passed between Lord G r and
the celebrated English syren , Miss L y. I send them to you for
publication , not with any view to encrease the volume of literary
scandal, which lam sorry to say, at present needs no assistance, but
with the most laudable intent of setting an example for our modern
belles , by holding out the character of a young woman , who , not-
withstanding the solicitations of her profession , and the flattering
example of higher ranks , has added incorwptible virtue to a
number of the most elegant qualifications."
Whatever may have caused the misunderstanding between her
and her lover, a reconcilement was with no great difficulty effected,
by the mediation of Sheridan's young friend , Mr. Ewart; and, at
length, after a series of stratagems and scenes, which convinced
Mr. Linley that it was impossible much longer to keep them asunder,
he consented to their union, and on the 13lh of April, 1773, they
were married by license ' — Mr. Ewart being at the same time wed-
ded to a young lady with whom he also had eloped clandestinely to
France , but was now enabled , by the forgiveness of his father, to
complete this double triumph of friendship and love.
A curious instance of the indolence and procrastinating habits of
Sheridan used to be related by Woodfall , as having occurred about
this time. A statement of his conduct in the duels having appeared
in one of the Bath papers , so false and calumnious as to require an
immediate answer, he called upon Woodfall to request that his paper
might be the medium of it. But wishing, as he said , that the pub-
lic should have the whole matter fairly before them , he thought it
1 Thus announced in the Gentleman's Magazine: — "Mr. Sheridan of the
Temple to the celebrated Miss Linley of Bath."
OF R. B SHERIDAN. 56
right that the offensive statement should first be inserted , and in a
day or two after be followed by his answer, which would thus come
wilh more relevancy and effect. In compliance with his wish, Wood-
fall lost not a moment in transcribing the calumnious article into
his columns — not doubting , of course , that the refutation of it
would be furnished with still greater eagerness. Day after day, how-
ever, elapsed , and , notwithstanding frequent applications on the
one side , and promises on the other, not a Hne of the answer was
ever sent by Sheridan ,— who , having expended all his activity in
assisting the circulation of the poison , had not industry enough left
4o supply the antidote. Throughout his whole life, indeed, he but
too consistently acted upon the principles which the first Lord Hol-
land used playfully to impress upon his son : — "Never do to-day \
what you can possibly put off till to-morrow •, nor ever do, yourself, j
what you can get any one else to do for you."
CHAPTER III.
Domestic circumstances — Fragments of Essays found among his papers.
— Comedy of " the Rivals." — Answer to " Taxation no tyranny." —
Farce of " St. Patrick's day."
A FEW weeks previous to his marriage, Sheridan had been entered
a student of the Middle Temple. It was not , however, to be ex-
pected that talents like his, so sure of a quick return of fame and
emolument , would wait for the distant and dearly -earned emolu-
ments, which a life of labour in this profession promises. Nor, in-
deed, did his circumstances admit of any such patient speculation.
A part of the sum which Mr. Long had settled upon Miss Linley,
and occasional assistance from her father (his own having withdrawn
all countenance from him), were now the only resources, beside his
own talents, left him. The celebrity of Mrs. Sheridan as a singer
was , it is true , a ready source of wealth ; and offers of the most ad-
vantageous kind were pressed upon them , by managers of concerts
both in town and country. But with a pride and delicacy, which
received the tribute of Dr. Johnson's praise, he rejected at once all
thoughts of allowing her to re-appear in public ; and, instead of pro-
filing by the display of his wife's talents , adopted the manlier reso-
lution of seeking an independence by his own. An engagement
had been made for her some months before by her father, to per-
form at the music-meeting that was to lake place at Worcester this
summer. But Sheridan, who considered that his own claims upon
her superseded all others, would not suffer her to keep this engage-
ment.
How decided his mind was upon the subject will appear from the
M MEMOIRS
following letter, written by him to Mr. Linley about a month after
his marriage , and containing some other interesting particulars ,
that show the temptations with which his pride had , at this time , to
struggle :—
East Buriiham, May 12, ijyS.
" DEAR SIR ,
" I purposely deferred writing to you till I should have settled all mat-
ters in London, and in some degree settled ourselves at our little home.
Some unforeseen delays prevented my finishing with Swale till Thursday
last, when every thing was concluded. I likewise settled with him for his
own account, as he brought it to me, and, for a friendly bill, it is pretty
decent.— Yours of the 3d instant did not reach me till yesterday, by rea-
son of its missing us at Mordcn. As to the principal point it treats of, I
had given my answer some days ago to Mr. Isaac of Worcester. He had
inclosed a letter to Storace for my wife, in which he dwells much on the
nature of the agreement you had made for her eight months ago, and
adds, that ' as this is no new application , but a request that you (Mr. S.)
will fulfil a positive engagement, the breach of which would prove of
fatal consequence to our Meeting, 1 hope Mr. Sheridan will think his
honour in some degree concerned in fulfilling it. '—Mr. Storace, in or-
der to enforce Mr. Isaac's argument, showed me bis letter on the same
subject to him , which begins with saying , ' We must have Mrs. Sheri-
dan , somehow or other, if possible ! ' — the plain English of which is that,
if her husband is not willing to let her perform, we will persuade him
that he acts dislionnurablr in preventing her from fulfilling a positive
engagement. This I conceive to be the very worst mode of application
that could have been taken ; as there really is not common sense in the
idea that my honour can be concerned in my wife's fulfilling an engage-
ment, which it is impossible she should ever have made. — Nor (as I
wrote to Mr. Isaac) can you, who gave the promise, whatever it was , be
in the least charged with the breach of it, as your daughter's marriage
was an event which must always have been looked to by them as quite as
natural a period to your right over her as her death. And, in my opinion,
it would have been just as reasonable to have applied to you to fulfil your
engagement in the latter case as in the former. As to the imprudence of
declining this engagement , I do not think , even were we to suppose
that my wife should ever on any occasion appear again in public , there
would be the least at present. For instance, I have had a gentleman with
me from Oxford ( where they do not claim the least right as from an en-
gagement) , who has endeavoured to place the idea of my complimenting
the University with Betsey's performance in the strongest light of advan-
tage to me. This he said, on my declining to let. her perform on any
agreement. He likewise informed me , that he had just left Lord North
( the Chancellor), who , he assured me, would look upon it as the highest
compliment , and had expressed himself so to him. Now, should it be a
point of inclination or convenience to me to break my resolution with re-
gard to Betsey's performing, there surely would be more sense in obli-
ging Lord North (and probably from his own application) and the Uni-
OF R. B. SHERIDAN- 67
vcrsity, than Lord Coventry and Mr. Isaac. For, were she to sing at
Worcester, there would not be the least compliment in her performing
at Oxford. Indeed, they would have a right to claim it — particularly, as
that is the mode of application they have chosen from Worcester. I have
mentioned the Oxford matter merely as an argument, that I can have no
kind of inducement to accept of the proposal from Worcester. And,
as I have written fully on the subject to Mr. Isaac, I think there will
be no occasion for you to give any further reasons to Lord Coventry —
only that I am sorry I cannot accept of his proposal , civilities , etc. ,
and refer him for my motives to Mr. Isaac , as what I have said to you
on the subject I mean for you only, and, if more remains to be argued
on the subject in general, we must defer it till we meet, which you
have given us reason to hope will not be long first.
"As this is a letter of business chiefly, I shall say little of our situa-
tion and arrangement of affairs, but that I think we are as happy as
those who wish us best could desire. There is but one thing that has
the least weight upon me, though it is one I was prepared for. But
time, while it strengthens the other blessings we possess, will, I hope ,
add that to the number. You will know that I speak with regard to my
father. Betsey informs me you have written to him again — have you heard
from him ?****»»*** *
" I should hope to hear from you very soon , and 1 assure you, you
shall now find me a very exact correspondent ; though I hope you
will not give me leave to confirm my character in that respect before we
meet.
" As there is with this a letter for Polly and you , I shall only charge
you with mine and Betsey's best love to her, mother, and Tom , etc. etc.
and believe me your sincere friend, and affectionate son ,
" R. B. SHERIDAN."
At East Burnham , from whence this letter is dated , they were
now living in a small cottage , to which they had retired imme-
diately on their marriage, and to which they often looked back with a
sigh in after-times , when they were more prosperous , but less
happy. It wras during a very short absence from this cottage, thai
the following lines were written by him : —
" Teach me , kiud Hymeu , teach — for thou
Must be my only tutor now , —
Teach me some innocent employ ,
That shall the hateful thought destroy ,
Thai I this whole long night must pass
In exile from my love's embrace.
Alas , thou hast no wings, oh Time ' !
It wa» some thoughtless lover's rhyme ,
Who, writing in his Cloe's view,
Paid her the compliment through you.
For had he, if he truly lov'd,
But once the pangs of absence prov'd ,
It will be perceived that the right following lines are the foundation of the
»«'iig "What hard, Oh Time," iu the Uneuna.
.'.« MEMOIRS
He'd cropt thy wings , and , in their stead ,
Have painted thee with heels of lead.
But 'tis the temper of the mind ,
Where we thy regulator find.
Still o'er the gay and o'er the yonug
With nnfelt steps you flit along , —
As Virgil's nymph o'er ripeu'd corn ,
With such etherial haste wa« borne ,
That every stock , with upright head ,
Denied the pressure of her tread.
Bnt o'er the wretched , oh , how *iow
And heavy sweeps thy scythe of \voe t
Oppress'd beneath each stroke they bow ,
Thy course engraven on their brow :
A day of absence shall consume
The glow of youth and manhood's bloom ,
And one short night of anxious fear
Shall leave the wrinkles of a year.
For me who , when I'm happy , owe
No thanks to fortune that I'm so ,
Who long have learned to look at one
Dear object , and at one alone ,
For all the joy, or all the sorrow,
That gilds the day , or threats the morrow ,
I never felt thy footsteps light ,
But when sweet love did aid thy flight ,
And , banish'd from his blest dominion,
I cared not for thy borrowed pinion.
True, she is mine , and , since she's mine ,
At trifles I should not repine ;
But oh, the miser's real pleasure
Is not in knowing he has treasure ;
H« must behold his golden store,
And feel, and count his riches o'er.
Thus I , of one dear gem possest ,
And in that treasure only blest ,
There every day would seek delight ,
And clasp the casket every night.
Towards the winter they went to lodge for a short time with Sto-
race, the intimate friend of Mr. Linley, and in the following year
attained that first step of independence , a house to themselves •, —
Mr. Linley having kindly supplied the furniture of their new resi-
dence, which was in Orchard-Street, Porlman-Square. During the
summer of 1774, they passed some time al Mr. Canning's and Lord
Coventry's ; but , so little did these visits interfere with the literary
industry of Sheridan , that , as appears 'from the following letter
written to Mr. Linley in November, he had not only at that lime
finished his play of the Rivals , but was on the point of " sending
a book to the press :" —
OF R. B. SHERIDAN. 59
" DKAR SIR, Nov. i7th, 1774.
" If I \vere to attempt to make as many apologies as my long omission
in \vritingto you requires, I should have no room for any other subject.
One excuse only I shall bring forward , which is , that T have been ex-
ceedingly employed , and I believe very profitably. However, before I
explain how, I must ease my mind on a subject that much more nearly
concerns me than any point of business or profit. I must premise to you
that Betsey is now very well , before I tell you abruptly that she has en-
countered another disappointment, and consequent indisposition.* * * *
However she is now getting entirely over it , and she shall never take any
journey of the kind again. I inform you of this now, that you may not be
alarmed by any accounts from some other quarter, which might lead you
to fear she was going to have such an illness as last year, of which I
assure you, upon my honour, there is not the least apprehension. If I did
not write now, Betsey would write herself, and in a day she will make
you quite easy on this head.
" I have bee^ very seriously at work on a book , which I am just now
sending to the press, and which I think will do me some credit, if it
leads to nothing else. However, the profitable affair is of another nature.
There will be a Comedy of mine in rehearsal at Covent-Garclen within a
few days. I did not set to work on it till within a few days of my setting
out for Crome , so you may think I have not , for these last six weeks ,
been very idle. I have done it at Mr. Harris's ( the manager's) own re-
quest ; it is now complete in his hands , and pi-eparing for the stage. He,
and some of his friends , also who have heard it , assure me in the most
flattering terms that there is not a doubt of its success. It will be very
well played, and Harris tells me that the least shilling I shall get (if it
succeeds) will be six hundred pounds. I shall make no secret of it towards
the time of representation, that it may not lose any support my friends
can give it. I had not written a line of it two months ago , except a
scene or two, which I believe you have seen in an odd act of a little farce.
" Mr, Stanley was with me a day or two ago on the subject of the
oratorios. I find Mr. Smith has declined, and is retiring to Bath.
Mr. Stanley informed me that on his applying to the King for the conti-
nuance of his favour, he was desired by His Majesty to make me an offer
of Mr. Smith's situation and partnership in them , and that he should
continue his protection, etc.— I declined the matter very civilly and very
peremptorily. I should imagine that Mr. Stanley would apply to you ; —
J started the subject to him , and said you had twenty Mrs. Sheridans
more. However, he said very little : — if he does , and you wish to make
an alteration in your system at once, I should think you may stand in
Smith's place. I would not listen to him on any other terms, and I should
think the King might be made to signify his pleasure for such an arrange-
ment. On this you will reflect, and if any way strikes you that I can
move in it, I need not add how happy I shall be in its success. *
" I hope you will let me have the pleasure to hear from you soon , as I
shall think any delay unfair, — unless you can plead that you are writing
an opera , and a folio on music beside. Accept Betsey's love and duty.
" Your sincere and affectionate
" II. B. SHERIDAK '
Gfl MEMOIRS
Whal the book here alluded to was , I cannot with any accuracy
ascertain. Besides a few sketches of plays and poems, of which 1
shall give some account in a subsequent Chapter, there exist
among his papers several fragments of Essays and Letters , all of
which — including the unfinished plays and poems — must have been
written by him in the interval between 1769, when he left Harrow,
and the present year ; though at what precise dates during that pe-
riod there are no means of judging.
Among these are a few political Letters , evidently designed for
the newspapers; — some of them but half copied out, and probably
never sent. One of this description , which must have been written
immediately on his leaving school , is a piece of irony against tho
Duke of Grafton , giving reasons why that nobleman should not lose
his head , and , under the semblance of a defence, exaggerating all
the popular charges against him.
The first argument ( he says) of the Duke's adversaries "is found-
ed on the regard which ought to be paid to justice, and on the good
effects which , they affirm , such an example would have , in sup-
pressing the ambition of any future minister. But , if I can prove
that his might be made a much greater example of by being
suffered to live, I think I may without vanity affirm that their whole
argument will fall to the ground. By pursuing the methods which
they propose, viz. chopping off his 's head, I allow the impres-
sion would be stronger at first •, but we should consider how soon
that wears off. If, indeed , his 's crimes were of such a nature ,
as to entitle his head to a place on Temple-Bar, I should allow sonic
weight to their argument. But , in the present case , we should re-
flect how apt mankind are to relent after they have inflicted punish-
ment;— so that, perhaps, the same men who would have detested
the noble Lord while alive and in prosperity, pointing him as a
scare-crow to their children , might , after being witnesses to the
miserable fate that had overtaken him , begin in their hearts to pity
him-, and from the fickleness so common to human nature, perhaps,
byway of compensation, acquit him of part of his crimes •, insinuate,
that he was dealt hardly with , and thus , by the remembrance of
their compassion on this occasion, be led to show more indulgence
to any future offender in the same circumstances. "There is a clear-
ness of thought and style here very remarkable in so young a writer.
In affecting to defend the Duke against the charge of fickleness
and unpunctuality, he says, "I think I could bring several instances
which should seem lo promise the greatest steadiness and reso-
lution. I have known him make the Council wait , on the business
of the whole nation, when he has had an appointment to Newmarket.
Surely, this is an instance of the greatest honour -,— and , if we see
OF R. H. SHFR1DAN a
him so punctual in private appointments, must we nol conclude
that he is infinitely more so in greater matters ? Nay, when W 's '
fame over, is it not notorious that the late Lord Mayor went to His
('.race on that evening, proposing a scheme which, by securing this
lire-brand, might have put an end to all the troubles he has caused. But
his Grace did not see him ; — no, he was a man of too much honour ; —
lie had promised that evening to attend Nancy Parsons to Ranelagh,
and he would not disappoint her, but made three thousand people
witnesses of his punctuality."
There is another Letter, which happens to be dated ( 1770), ad-
dressed to " Novus," — some writer in Woodfall's Public Advertiser,
— and appearing to be one of a series to the same correspondent.
From Hie few political allusions introduced in this letter, (which is
occupied chiefly in an attack upon the literary style of " Novus,")
we can collect that the object of 'Sheridan was to defend the new
ministry of Lord North , who had , in the beginning of that year,
succeeded the Duke of Grafton. Junius was just then in the height
of his power and reputation; and, as in English literature, one
great voice always produces a multitude of echoes, it was thought
at that time indispensable to every letter-writer in a newspaper, to
be a close copyist of the style of Junius : of course , our young po-
litical tyro followed this "mould of form" as well as the rest. Thus,
in addressing his correspondent : — "That gloomy seriousness in
your style , — that seeming consciousness of superiority, together
with the consideration of the infinite pains it must have cost you to
have been so elaborately wrong , — will not suffer me to attribute
such numerous errors to any thing but real ignorance , joined with
most consummate vanity." The following is a specimen of his acute-
ness in criticising the absurd style of his adversary : — " You leave
it rather dubious whether you were most pleased with the glorious
opposition to Charles I, or the dangerous designs of that monarch ,
which you emphatically call ' the arbitrary projects of a Stuart's na-
ture.1 What do you mean by the projects of a man's nature"? A
man's natural disposition may urge him to the commission of some
actions ; — Nature may instigate and encourage , but I believe you
arc the first that ever made her a projector."
It is amusing to observe , that , while he thus criticises the style
and language of his correspondent, his own spelling, in every se-
cond line, convicts him of deficiency in at least one common branch
of literary acquirement : — we find t/ting always spelt think ; — whe-
ther, where , and which turned into wether, were , and wich ; —
and double ra'sand s's almost invariably reduced to " single blessed-
ness." This sign of a neglected education remained with him to a
1 Wilkcs.
62 MEMOIRS
very late period, and, in his hasty writing, or scribbling, wonkl
occasionally recur to the last.
From these Essays for the newspapers it may be seen how early
was the bias of his mind towards politics. It was , indeed , the rival
of literature in his affections during all the early part of his life ;
and, at length, — whether luckily for himself or not it is difficult to
say, — gained the mastery.
There are also among his manuscripts some commencements of
Periodical Papers , under various names , " The Detector," " The
Dramatic Censor," etc. $ — none of them, apparently, carried beyond
the middle of the first number. Bui one of the most curious of these
youthful productions is a Letter to the Queen, recommending the
establishment of an Institution , for the instruction and maintenance
of young females in the belter classes of life , who, from either the
loss of their parents or from poverty , are without the means of
being brought up suitably to their station. He refers to the asylum
founded by Madame de Maintenon , at St. Cyr, as a model , and
proposes that the establishment should be placed under the patron-
age of Her Majesty, and entitled " The Royal Sanctuary." The read-
er, however, has to arrive at the practical part of the plan, through
long and flowery windings of panegyric, on the beauty, genius,
and virtue of women, and their transcendent superiority, in every
respect, over men.
The following sentence will give some idea of the sort of elo-
quence, with which he prefaces this grave proposal to Her Majesty:
— "The dispute about the proper sphere of women is idle. That men
should have altempted to draw a line for their orbit , shows that God
meant them for cornels , and above our jurisdiction. With them the
enthusiasm of poetry and the idolatry of love is the simple voice of
nature." There are, indeed, many passages of this boyish compo-
sition , a good deal resembling in their style those ambitious apos-
trophes , with which he afterwards ornamented his speeches on the
trial of Hastings.
He next proceeds to remark to Her Majesty, that in those coun-
tries where " man is scarce better than a brute, he shows his dege-
neracy by his treatment of women ," and again falls into metaphor,
not very clearly made out : — " The influence that women have over
us is as the medium through which the finer Arts act upon us. The
incense of our love and respect for them creates the atmosphere of
our souls , which corrects and meliorates the beams of knowledge."
The following is in a belter style : — " However in savage coun-
tries , where the pride of man has not fixed the first diclates of igno-
rance into law, we see the real effects of nature. The wild Huron
shall , to the object of his love , become gentle as his weary rein-
OF R. B. SHERIDAN. 01
. — he shall present to her the spoil of his bow on his knee; —
shall watch without reward the cave where she sleeps;— he shall
rob the birds for feathers for her hair, and dive for pearls for her
neck ; — her look shall be his law , and her beauties his worship ! "
lie then endavours to prove that , as it is the destiny of man to be
ruled by woman , he ought , for his own sake , to render her as lit
for that task as possible : — *' How can we be better employed than
in perfecting that which governs us? The brighter they are, the
more we shall be illumined. Were the minds of all women culti-
vated by inspiration, men would become wise of course. They are
a sort of pentagraphs with which nature writes on the heart of man ;
— what s/ie delineates on the original map will appear on the
copy."
In showing how much less women are able to struggle against
adversity than men , he says, — " As for us , we are born in a slate
of warfare with poverty and distress. The sea of adversity is our
natural element, and he that will not buffet with the billows deserves
lo sink. But you , oh you, by nature formed of gentler kind, can
you endure the biting storm ? shall you be turned to the nipping
blast, and not a door be open lo give you shelter?"
After describing , with evident seriousness , the nature of the
institutions of Madame de Maintenon, at St. Cyr, he adds the fol-
lowing strange romantic allusion : " Had such a charity as I have
been speaking of existed here , the mild Parthenia and my poor
Laura would not bave fallen into untimely graves."
The practical details of his plan, in which it is equally evident that
he means to be serious, exhibit the same flightiness of language
and notions. The King , he supposes , would have no objection to
" grant Hampton-Court, or some other palace, for the purpose ;"
and " as it is (he continues, still addressing the Queen, ) to be imme-
diately under Your Majesty's patronage , so should Your Majesty
be the first member of it. Let the conslilution of it be like that of a
university, — Your Majesty, Chancellor; some of the first ladies in the
kingdom sub-chancellors ; whose care it shall be to provide instruc-
tors of real merit. The classes are to be distinguished by age, —
none by degree. For, as their qualification should be gentility, they
are all on a level. The instructors should be women, except for
the languages. Lalin and Greek should not be learned ; — the
frown of pedantry destroys the blush of humility. The practical part
of the sciences , as of astronomy, etc. should be taught. In history
they would find that there are other passions in man than love. As
for novels , there are some I would strongly recommend ; but ro-
mances infinitely more. The one is a representation of the effects of
the passions as they should be, though extravagant; the other, as
C4 MEMOIRS
they are. The latter is falsely called nature , and is a picture of de-
praved and corrupted society •, the other is the glow of nature. I
would therefore exclude all novels that show human nature depraved :
— however well executed, the design will disgust."
He concludes by enumerating the various good effects, which
the examples of female virtue , sent forth from such an institution ,
would produce upon the manners and morals of the other sex , and
in describing , among other kinds of coxcombs , the cold , courtly
man of the world , uses the following strong figure : "• They are
so clipped , and rubbed , and polished , that God's image and in-
scription is worn from them , and when He calls in his coin , He
will no longer know them for his own."
There is still another Essay, or rather a small fragment of an Es-
say, on the Letters of Lord Chesterfield , which , I am inclined to
think , may have formed a part of the rough copy of the book an-
nounced by him to Mr. Linley as ready in the November of this
year. Lord Chesterfield's Letters appeared for the first time in 1774,
and the sensation they produced was exactly such as would tempt a
writer in quest of popular subjects to avail himself of it. As the few
pages which I have found, and which contain merely scattered hints
of thoughts, are numbered as high as 232, it is possible that the
preceding part of the work may have been sufficiently complete to
go into the printer's hands , and that there, — like so many more of
his " unshelled brood ," — it died without ever taking wing. A few of
the memorandums will, I have no doubt, be acceptable to the
reader.
" Lord C.'s whole system in no one article calculated to make a great
man. — A noble youth should be ignorant of the things he wishes him to
know ; — such a one as he wants would be too soon a man.
" Emulation is a dangerous passion to encourage, in some points, in
young men ; it is so linked with envy : — if you reproach your son for not
surpassing his school-fellows, he will hate those who are before him.—
Emulation not to be encouraged even in virtue. True virtue will, like the
Athenian, rejoice in being surpassed; a friendly emulation cannot exist
in two minds; one must hate tbe perfections in which he is eclipsed by
the other; thus, from hating the quality in his competitor, be loses the
respect for it in himself: — a young man by himself better educated than
two. — A Roman's emulation was not to excel bis countrymen, but to
make bis country excel : tbis is tbe true, the other selfisb.— Epaminondas,
who reflected on tbe pleasure his success would give bis father, most
glorious ; — an emulation for that purpose, true.
" The selfisb vanity of the father appears in all these letters — his
sending the copy of a letter for his sister.— His object was the praise of
his own mode of education.- — How much more noble the aflection of
Morni in Ossian ; ' Oh , that the name of Moral,' etc. etc. '
' "Oh that the name of Alortii were forgot among the people! that the heroes
OF ft. B. SHERIDAN. C5
" His frequent directions for constant employment entirely ill founded :
—a wise man is formed more by the action of his own thoughts than hy ^
continually feeding it. 'Hurry,' he says, ' from play to study; never be
doing nothing' — I say, 'Frequently be unemployed; sit and think.' —
There are on every subject but a few leading and fixed ideas ; their
tcacks may be traced by your own genius, as well as by reading •. — a
man of deep thought, who shall have accustomed himself to support or
attack all he has read, will soon find nothing new -.—thought is -exercise,
and the mind like the body must not be wearied."
These last few sentences contain the secret of Sheridan's confi-
dence in his own powers. His subsequent success bore him out in
the opinions he thus early expressed, and might even have per-
suaded him that it was in consequence , not in spite, of his want of
cultivation that he succeeded.
On the 17th of January, 1775, the comedy of The Rivals was
brought out at Covent-Garden, and the following was the cast of the
characters on the first night : —
Sir Anthony Absolute Mr. Shuter.
Captain Absolute Mr. Woodward.
Falkland Mr. Lewis.
Acres . . . : Mr. Quick.
Sir Lucius O'Trigger^ Mr. Lee.
Fag . -.-. .¥**'. Mr. Lee Lewes.
David ..-..!. Mr. Dunstal.
Coachman Mi\ Fearon.
Mrs. Malaprop Mrs. Green.
Lydia Languish . . '. Miss. Barsanti.
Julia Mrs. Bulkley.
Lucy . . . • , . . . Mrs. Lessingham.
This comedy , as is well known , failed on its first representa-
tion ,— chiefly from the bad acting of Mr. Lee in Sir Lucius O'Trig-
ger. Another actor, however, Mr. Clinch , was substituted in his
place, and the play being lightened of this and some other incum-
brances , rose at once into that high region of public favour, where
it has continued to float so buoyantly and gracefully ever since.
The following extracts from letters written at that time by Miss
Linley (afterwards Mrs.Tickell) to her sister, Mrs. Sheridan, though
containing nothing remarkable , yet , as warm with the feelings of
a moment so interesting in Sheridan's literary life, will be read,
perhaps , with some degree of pleasure. The slightest outline of a
celebrated place , taken on the spot , has often a charm beyond the
most elaborate picture finished at a distance.
would only say, 'Behold the father of Gaul!"' Sheridan applied this, more than
il'i'tyycars after, in talking of his ovm son , ou the hustings of Westminster, and
• •"<! that, in like manner, ht would ask no greater distinction than for men to point
' him and say, «• There goes the father of Tom Sheridan." •
6
G6 MEMOIRS
" MY DKABKST ELIZA , Bath.
" We are all in the greatest anxiety about Sheridan's play, — though 1
do not think there is the least doubt of its succeeding. 1 was told last
night that it was his own story, and therefore called " The Rivals ; " but
T do not give any credit to this intelligence.* ******
"I am told he will get at least ^oo/. for his play "
" Bath , January, iJjS.
" It is impossible to tell you what pleasure we felt at the receipt, of
Sheridan's last letter, which confirmed what we had seen in the news-
papers of the success of his play. The knowing ones were very much
disappointed, as they had so very bad an opinion of its success. After the
first night we were indeed all very fearful that the audience would go very
much prejudiced against it. But now , there can be no doubt of its success,
as it has certainly got through more difliculties than any comedy which
has not met its doom the first night. I know you have been very busy in
writing for Sheridan, — I don't mean copying, but composing, — it's
true, indeed; — you must not contradict me when I say you wrote the
much-admired epilogue to the Rivals. How I long to read it ! What
makes it more certain is, that my father guessed it was yours the first
time he saw it praised in the paper."
This statement respecting the epilogue would , if true , deprive
Sheridan of one of the fairest leaves of his poetic crown. It appears ,
however, to be but a conjecture hazarded at the moment, and proves
only the high idea entertained of Mrs. Sheridan's talents by her own
family. The cast of the play at Bath , and its success there and else-
where , are thus mentioned in these letters of Miss Linley :
" Bath, February 18, 1775.
" What shall I say of The Rivals!— a compliment must naturally be
expected ; but really it goes so far beyond any thing I can say in its praise,
that I am afraid my modesty must keep me silent. When you and I meet
I shall he better able to explain myself, and tell you how much I am
delighted with it. We expect to have it here very soon : —it is now in
rehearsal. You pretty well know the merits of our principal performers :
— I'll show you how it is cast.
Sir Anthony Mr. Edwin.
Captain Absolute Mr. Didier.
Falkland Mr. Dimond.
( A new actor of great merit , and a sweet figure. )
Sir Lucius . . . , Mr. Jackson.
Acres Mr. Kea.'ibcrry.
Fag ; Mr. Brunsdon.
Mrs. Malaprop Mrs. Wheeler.
Miss Lydia Miss Wheeler.
( Literally, a very pretty, romantic girl, of seventeen.;
Julia Mrs. Didier. .
Lucv Mrs. Brett
OF R. B. SHERIDAN. 67
" There, Madam, do not you think we shall do your Rivals some
justice? I'm convinced it won't be done better any where out of London.
1 don't think Mrs. Mattocks can do Julia very well."
" Bath, March g, 1775.
" You will know by what you see enclosed in this frank my reason for
not answering your letter sooner was , that I waited the success of
Sheridan's play in Bath ; for, let me tell you , I look upon our theatrical
tribunal, though not in quantity , in quality as good as yours, and I do
not believe there was a critic in the whole city that was not there. But,
in my life, 1 never saw any thing go off with such uncommon applause.
I must first of all inform you that there was a very full house : —the play
was performed inimitably well; nor did I hear, for the honor of our
Bath actors , one single prompt the whole night ; but I suppose the poor
creatures never acted with such shouts of applause in their lives , so that
they were incited by that to do their best. They lost many of Malaprop's
good sayings by the applause : in short, I never saw or heard anything
like it -.—before the actors spoke , they began their clapping. There was
a new scene of the N. Parade, painted by Mr. Davis, and a most delightful
one it is, I assure you. Every body says, — Bowes in particular, — that
yours in town is not so good. Most of the dresses were entirely new, and
very handsome On the whole , I think Sheridan is vastly obliged to
poor dear Keasberry for getting it up so well. We only wanted a good
Julia to have made it quite complete. You must know that it was entirely
out of Mrs. Didier's style of playing : but I never saw better acting than
Keasberry's, — so all the critics agreed."
Bath, August 22d, 1775.
" Tell Sheridan his play has been acted at Southampton •„ — above a
hundred people were turned away the first night. They say there never
was any thing so universally liked. They have very good success at Bristol,
and have played The Rivals several times : — Miss Barsanti , Lydia , and
Mrs. Canning , Julia."
To enter inlo a regular analysis of this lively play, the best com-
ment on which is to be found in the many smiling faces that are
lighted up around wherever it appears , is a task of criticism that
will hardly be thought necessary. With much less wit, it exhibits
perhaps more humour than The School for Scandal , and the dia-
logue, though by no means so pointed or sparkling, is, in this res-
pect, more natural, as coming nearer the current coin of ordinary
conversation •, whereas , Ihe circulating medium of The School for
Scandal is diamonds. The characters of The Rivals, on the contrary,
are not such as occur very commonly in the world ; and , instead of
producing striking effects with natural and obvious materials, which
is the great art and difficulty of a painter of human life, he has here
overcharged most of his persons with whims and absurdities , for
which the circumstances they are engaged in afford but a very dis-
proportionate vent. Accordingly , for our insight into their charac-
G8 MEMOIRS
lers, we arc indebted rather to their confessions than their actions,
Lydia Languish , in proclaiming the extravagance of her own ro-
mantic notions , prepares us for events much more ludicrous and
eccentric , than those in which the plot allows her to be concerned •,
and the young lady herself is scarcely more disappointed than wo
are , at the tamcncss with which her amour concludes. Among the
various ingredients supposed to be mixed up in the composition of
Sir Lucius O Trigger, his love of fighting is the only one whose fla-
vour is very strongly brought out •, and the Sway ward , captious
jealousy of Falkland , though so highly coloured in his own repre-
sentation of it , is productive of no incident answerable to such an
announcement : — the imposture which he practises upon Julia being
perhaps weakened in its effect, by our recollection of the same de-
vice in the Nut-brown Maid and Peregrine Pickle.
The character of Sir Anthony Absolute is , perhaps , the best sus-
tained and most natural of any, and the scenes between him and
Captain Absolute are richly , genuinely dramatic. His surprise at
the apathy with which his son receives the glowing picture which
he draws of the charms of his destined bride , and the effect of the
question, "And which is to be mine , Sir, — the niece or the aunt?"
are in the truest style of humour. Mrs. Malaprop's mistakes, in what
she herself calls " orthodoxy." have been often objected to as irn-
- probable from a woman in her rank of life 5 but, though some of
them, it must be owned, are extravagant and farcical, they are al-
most all amusing, — and the luckiness of her simile, " as head-
strong as an allegory on the banks of the Nile," will be acknowledged
as long as there are writers to be run away with, by the wilfulness
of this truly "• headstrong" species of composition.
Of the faults of Sheridan both in his willy and serious styles —
the occasional effort of the one , and the too frequent false finery of
the other — some examples may be cited from the dialogue of this
play. Among the former kind is the following elaborate conceit: —
" Falk. Has Lydia changed her mind ? I should have thought her duty
and inclination \vould now have pointed to the same object.
" Abs. Av, just as the eyes of a person who squints : when her love-
eye was fixed on me, t'other — her eye of duly — was finely obliqued : but
when puty bade her point that the same way , off turned t'other on a
swivel , and secured its retreat with a frown."
This , though ingenious, is far too laboured — and of that false taste
by which sometimes, in his graver style, he was seduced into the
display of second-rate ornament, the following speeches of Julia af-
ford specimens : —
' Then on the bosom of your wedded Julia, YOU may lull your keen
OF R. B. SHERIDAN. 6
regret lo slumbering ; while virtuous love , with a cherub's hand, shall
smooth l he brow of upbraiding thought, and pluck the thorn from com-
punction. "
Again; — "When hearts deserving happiness would unite their fortunes,
virtue would crown them with an unfading garland of modest hurlless
1 lowers ; but ill-judging passion will force the gaudier rose into the wreath,
whose thorn offends them when its leaves are dropt."
But, notwithstanding such blemishes, — and it is easy for the mi-
croscopic eye of criticism to discover gaps and inequalities in the
finest edge of genius, — this play, from the liveliness of its plot ,
the variety and whimsicality of its characters , and the exquisite
humour of its dialogue , is one of the most amusing in the whole
range of the drama ; and even without the aid of its more splendid
successor, The School for Scandal , would have placed Sheridan in
the first rank of comic writers.
A copy of The Rivals has fallen into my hands, which once be-
longed to Tickell , the friend and brother-in-law of Sheridan , and
on the margin of which I find written by him in many places his
opinion of particular parts of the dialogue x. He has also prefixed to
it, as coming from Sheridan, the following humorous dedication ,
which , I take for granted , has never before met the light , and
which the reader will perceive , by the allusions in it to the two
Whig ministries, could not have been written before the year
1784 :—
DEDICATION TO IDLENESS.
" MY DEAR FRIEND ,
" If it were necessary to make any apology for this freedom, I know
you would think it a sufficient one , that I shall find it easier to dedicate
my play to you than to any other person. There is likewise a propriety in pre-
fixing your name to a work begun entirely at your suggestion, and finished
under your auspices ; and I should think myself wanting in gratitude to
you, ifl diduottake an early opportunity of acknowledging the obligations
which I owe you. There was a time— though it is so long ago that I now
scarcely remember it, and cannot mention it without compunction — but
there was a time , when the importunity of parents, and the example of a
few injudicious young men of my acquaintance, had almost prevailed on me
to tli wart my genius , and prostitute my abilities by an application to
serious pursuits. And if you had not opened my eyes to the absurdity
1 These opinions are generally expressed in two or three words, and are, for the
most part , judicious. Upon Mrs. Malaprop's quotation from Shakspeare, " Hespe-
rian carls," etc. he writes, " overdone— fitter for farce than comedy." Acres's
classification of oaths, "This we call the oath referential ," etc. he pronounces to
be " very pood , but above the speaker's capacity." Of Julia's speech , " Oh womnn,
how trne should be your judgment, when your resolution is so weak ! " he remarks
"On the contrary, it seems to be of little consequence whether any person's jt«'r-
nicnt be weak or not, who^wants resolution to act according to it."
70 MEMOIRS
and profligacy of such a perversion of the best gifts of nature , I am by
no means clear that I might not have been a wealthy merchant or an
eminent lawyer at this very moment. Nor was it only on my first setting
out in life that I availed myself of a connection with you , though perhaps
I never reaped such signal advantages from it as at that critical period. I
have frequently since stood in need of your admonitions, and have always
found you ready to assist me — though you were frequently brought by
your zeal for me into new and awkward situations, and such as you were
at first, naturally enough, unwilling to appear in. Amongst innumerable
other instances , I cannot omit two, where you afforded me considerable
and unexpected relief, and in fact converted employments usually attended
by dry and disgusting business, into scenes of perpetual meriment and
recreation. I allude, as you will easily imagine, to those cheerful hours
which I spent in the Secretary of State's office and the Treasury, during
all which time you were my inseparable companion , and showed me
such a preference over the rest of my colleagues, as excited at once their
envy and admiration. Indeed, it was very natural for them to repine at
your having taught me a way of doing business , which it was impossible
for them to follow — it was both original and inimitable.
" If I were to say here all that I think of your excellences, I might be
suspected of flattery ; but I beg leave to refer you for the test of my
sincerity to the constant tenor of my life and actions; and shall conclude
with a sentiment of which no one can dispute the truth , nor mistake the
application — that those persons usually deserve most of their friends who
expect least of them.
" I am, etc. etc. etc.
" R. B. SHERIDAN."
The celebrity which Sheridan had acquired, as the chivalrous
lover of Miss Linley , was of course considerably increased by the
success of The Rivals 5 and , gifted as he and his beautiful wife
were with all that forms the magnetism of society, — the power to
attract, and the disposition to be attracted, their life, as may easily be
supposed, was one of gaiety both at home and abroad. Though little
able to cope with the entertainments of their wealthy acquaintance ,
her music and the good company which his talents drew around him,
were an ample repayment for the more solid hospitalities which they
received. Among the families visited by them , was that of Mr. Coote
(Purden), at whose musical parties Mrs. Sheridan frequently sung ,
accompanied occasionally by the two little daughters ' of Mr. Coote
who were the originals of the children introduced into Sir Joshua
1 The charm of her singing, a.s well as her fondness for children, are interest-
ingly described in a letter toiuy friend Mr. Rogers, from one of the most tasteful
writers of the present day:— "Hers was truly 'a voice as of xhe chernb choir,' and
she was always ready to sing without any pressing. She sung here a great deal,
and to my infinite delight ; bat what had a peculiar charm was, that she used to
take my daughter, then a child, on her lap, and siug a number of childish soDgs
with such a playfulness of manner, and such a sweetness ot look and voice, as wa;»
qnite enchanting."
OF «. B. SHERIDAN. 71
Reynolds s portrait of Mrs. Sheridan as St. Cecilia. It was here that
the Duchess of Devonshire lirsl met Sheridan ; and, as 1 have been
told, long hesitated as to the propriety of inviting to her house two
persons of such equivocal rank in society , as he and his wife were
at that time considered. Her Grace was reminded of these scruples
some years after, when " the player's son" had become the admi-
ration of the proudest and fairest ; and when a house , provided for
the Duchess herself at Bath , was left two months unoccupied , in
consequence of the social attractions of Sheridan , which prevented
a parly then assembled at Chats worth from separating. These are
triumphs which, for the sake of all humbly born heirs of genius,
deserves to be commemorated.
In gratitude, it is said, to Clinch, the actor, for the seasonable
reinforcement which he had brought to The Rivals , Mr. Sheridan
produced this year a farce called " St. Patrick's Day, or the Sche-
ming Lieutenant," which was acted on the 2d of May, and had con-
siderable success.
Though we must not look for the usual point of Sheridan in this
piece , where the hints of pleasantry are performed with the broad
end or mace of his wit , there is yet a quick circulation of humour
through the dialogue , — and laughter , the great end of farce , is
abundantly achieved by it. The moralizing of Doctor Rosy, and the
dispute between the justice's wife and her daughter, as to the res-
pective merits of militia-men and regulars , are highly comic : —
" Psha, you know, Mamma, I hate militia officers ; a set of dunghill
cocks with spurs on — heroes scratch'd off a church-door. No/give me
the hold upright youth who makes love to-day, and has his head shot off
to-morrow. Dear ! to think how the sweet fellows sleep on the ground,
and fight in silk stockings and lace ruffles.
" Mother. Oh harharous ! to want a husband that may wed you to-day,
and he sent the Lord knows where hefore night ; then in a twelvemonth,
perhaps, to have him come like a Colossus, with one leg at New- York
and the other at Chelsea Hospital. "
Sometimes, too, there occurs a phrase or sentence , which might
be sworn to , as from the pen of Sheridan , any where. Thus , in
the very opening : —
" i st Soldier. I say you are wrong ; we should all speak together, each
for himself, and all at once , that we may he heard the better.
" -2(1 Soldier. Right, Jack, we'll argue in platoons."
Notwithstanding the great success of his first attempts in the
drama , we find politics this year renewing its claims upon his at-
tention , and tempting him to enter into the lists with no less an
Antagonist than Dr. Johnson. That eminent man had just published
72 MEMOIRS
his pamphlet on the American question, entitled " Taxation no ty-
ranny ; " — a work, whose pompous sarcasm on the Congress of Phi-
ladelphia, when compared with what has happened since , dwindle
into puerilities , and show what straws upon the great tide of events
are even the mightiest intellects of this world. Some notes and frag-
ments, found among the papers of Mr. Sheridan, prove that he had
it in contemplation to answer this pamphlet •, and , however inferior
he might have been in style to his practised adversary , he would
at least have had the advantage of a good cause, and of those durable
materials of truth and justice , which outlive the mere workmanship,
however splendid, of talent. Such arguments as the following,
which Johnson did not scruple to use, are, by the haughtiness of
their tone and thought, only fit for the lips of autocrats : —
" When they apply to our compassion, by telling us that they are to be
carried from their own country to be tried for certain offences, we are
not so ready to pity them, as to advise them not to offend. "While they are
innocent , they are safe.
" If they are condemned unheard, it is because there is no need of a
trial. The crime is manifest and notorious," etc. etc.
It appears from the fragments of the projected answer, that
Johnson's pension was one of the points , upon which Mr. Sheridan
intended to assail him. The prospect of being able to neutralize the
effects of his zeal , by exposing fhe nature of the chief incentive
from which it sprung , was so templing , perhaps , as to over-rule
any feelings of delicacy, that might otherwhise have suggested the
illiberality of such an attack. The following are a few of the stray
hints for this part of his subject : —
politician. — Such pamphlets will be as trifling and insincere as the venal
quit-rent of a birth-day ode '.
" Dr. J.'s other works, his learning and infirmities, fully entitled him
to such a mark of distinction. — There was no call on him to become
politician — The easy quit-rent of refined panegyric, and a few grateful
rhymes or flowery dedications to the intermediate benefactor. *****
" The man of letters is rarely drawn from obscurity by the inquisitive
eye of a sovereign : — it is enough for Royalty to gild the laurelled brow ,
not explore the garret or the cellar.— In this case, the return will gene-
rally be ungrateful — the patron is most possibly disgraced or in opposi-
tion— if he ( the author ) follow s the dictates of gratitude , he must speak
his patron's language, but he may lose his pension— but to be a standing
supporter of ministry , is probably to take advantage of that competence
' On another scrap of paper I find "the miserable quit-rent of an annual pam-
phlet."' It was bis custom iu composition (as will be seen by many otb,er instances)
thus to try the same thought in a variety of forms and combinations, iu order to
see iu which it would yield the greatest produce of wit. '
OF R. B. SHERIDAN. 73
agaiust his benefactor. — When it happens that there is great experience
and political knowledge, this is more excusable ; but it is truly unfortu-
nate where the fame of far different abilities adds weight to the attempts
of rashness. *
He then adds this very striking remark : " Men seldom think
deeply on subjects on which they have no choice of opinion : — they
are fearful of encountering obstacles to their faith (as in religion),
and so are content with the surface."
Dr. Johnson says , in one part of his pamphlet , — "As all are
born the subjects of some stale or other, we maybe said to have been
all born consenting to some system of government." On this Sheri-
dan remarks : — "This is the most slavish doctrine that ever was
inculcated. If by our birth we gave a tacit bond for our acquies-
cence in that form of government under which we were born, there
never would have been an alteration of the first modes of govern-
ment— no Revolution in England."
Upon the argument derived from the right of conquest he observes :
— " This is the worst doctrine that can be with respect to America.
— If America is ours by conquest, it is the conquerors who settled
there that are lo claim these powers."
He expresses strong indignation at the " arrogance," with which
such a man as Montesquieu is described as "the fanciful Montes-
quieu," by " an eleemosynary politician, who writes on the subject
merely because he has been rewarded for writing otherwise all his
lifetime."
In answer to the argument against the claims of the Americans ,
founded on the small proportion of the population that is really re-
presented even in England , he has the following desultory memo-
randums :— " In fact every man in England is represented — every
man can influence people, so as to get a vote, and even in an elec-
tion votes arc divided , each candidate is supposed equally worthy —
as in lots — fight Ajax or Agamemnon ' . — This an American cannot
do in any way whatever.
" The votes in England are perpetually shifting : — were it an object,
few could be excluded.— Wherever there is any one ambitious of assisting
the empire , he need not put himself to much inconvenience. — If the
Doctor indulged his studies in Cricklade or Old Sarum, he might vote : —
the dressing meat, the simplest proof of existence, begets a title. — His pam-
phlet shows that he thinks he can influence some one ; not an anonymous
writer in the paper but contributes his mite to the general tenor of opi-
nion.—At the eve of an election, his Patriot a was meant to influence more
1 He means to compare an election of this sort to the casting of lots between
tin; Grecian chiefs in the 7lh book of the Iliad.
I IK; IKUIIC of a short pamphlet, published by Dr. Johnson, on the dissolutiou
of jMiliaiuent in 177 i
74 MEMOIRS
than the single voice of a rustic. — Even the mob, in shouting, give voles
where there is not corruption. "
It is not to be regretted that this pamphlet was left unfinished.
Men of a high order of genius , such as Johnson and Sheridan ,
should never enter into warfare with each other, but, like the gods
in Homer, leave the strife to inferior spirits. The publication of
this pamphlet would most probably have precluded its author from
the distinction and pleasure which he afterwards enjoyed in the so-
ciety and conversation of the eloquent moralist who , in the follow-
ing year, proposed him as a member of the Literary Club, and
always spoke of his character and genius with praise. Nor was She-
ridan wanting on his part with corresponding tributes; for, in a
prologue which he wrote about this time to the play of Sir Thomas
Ovcrbury, he thus alludes to Johnson's Life of its unfortunate au-
thor :—
" So pleads the tale, that gives to future times,
The sou's misfortunes, and the pareut's crimes;
There shall his fame , if own'd to-night, survive,
Fix'd by the hand that bids our language live."
CHAPTER IV.
The Duenna.— Purchase of Drury Lane theatre.— The Trip to Scarbor-
ough.—Poetical Correspondence with Mrs. Sheridan.
MR. SHERIDAN had now got into a current of dramatic fancy ,
of whose prosperous flow he continued to avail himself actively.
The summer recess was employed in writing the Duenna ; and his
father-in-law, Mr. Linley, assisted in selecting and composing the
music for it. As every thing connected w ith the progress of a work ,
which is destined to be long the delight of English ears, must na-
turally have a charm for English readers , I feel happy in being
enabled to give , from letters written at the time by Mr. Sheridan
himself to Mr. Linley, some details relating to their joint adaptation
of the music , which , judging from my own feelings , I cannot doubt
will be interesting to others.
Mr. Linley was at this time at Bath, and the following letter to him
is dated in October, 1775, about a month or five weeks before the
opera was brought out : —
" DEAR SIR ,
"We received your songs to-day, with which we are exceedingly pleased.
I shall profit by our proposed alterations ; but I'd have you to know that
we are much too chaste in London to admit such strains as your Bath
spring inspires. We dare not propose a peep beyond thc^ancle on any
OF R. B. SHERIDAN. 75
account ; for the critics in the pit at a new play are much greater prudes
than the ladies in the boxes. Betsey intended to have troubled you with
some music for correction and 1 with some stanzas, but an interview with
Harris to-day has put me from the thoughts of it, and bent me upon a
much more important petition. You may easily suppose it is nothing else
than what I said I would not ask in my last. But, in short, unless you can
give us three days in town , I fear our opera will stand a chance to be
ruined. Harris is extravagantly sanguine of its success as to plot and dia-
logue , which is to be rehearsed next Wednesday at the theatre. They
will exert themselves to the utmost in the scenery, etc. , but I never saw
any one so disconcerted as he was at the idea of there being no one to put
them in the right way as to music. They have no one there whom he has
any opinion of — as to Fisher ( one of the managers) he don't choose he
should meddle with it. He entreated me in the most pressing terms to
write instantly to you, and wanted, if he thought it could be of any weight,
to write himself. Is it impossible to contrive this? could'ntyou leave Tom'
to superintend the concert fora few days ? If you can manage it, you will
really do me the greatest service in the world. As to the state of the music,
1 want but three more airs, but there are some glees and quintets in the
last act, that will be inevitably ruined, if we have no one to set the per-
formers at least in the right way. Harris has set his heart so much on my
succeeding in this application, that he still flatters himself we may have a
rehearsal of the music in Orchard Street to-morrow se'nnight. Every
hour's delay is a material injury both to the opera and the theatre', so
that if you can come and relieve us from this perplexity, the return of the
post must only forerun your arrival ; or ( what will make us much happier)
might it not bring you ? I shall say nothing at present about the lady
' with the soft look and manner,' because I am full of more than hopes
of seeing you. For the same reason I shall delay to speak about G — ;' only
this much I will say, that I am more than ever positive I could make good
my part of the matter ; but that I still remain an infidel as to G.'s retiring,
or parting with his share, though I confess he seems to come closer to the
point in naming his price.
"Your ever sincere and affectionate,
" R. B. SHERIDAN. "
On the opposite leaf of this letter is written, in Mrs. S.'s hand-writing,
— " Dearest Father, I shall have no spirits or hopes of the opera , unless
we see you.
" ELIZA ANN SHERIDAN "
In answer to these pressing demands , Mr. Linley, as appears by
the following letter, signified his intention of being in town as soon
as the music should be put in rehearsal. In the instructions here
given fay the poet to the musician , we may perceive that he some-
what apprehended, even in the tasteful hands of Mr. Linley, that pre-
dominance of harmony over melody, and of noise over both , which
is so talal to poetry and song , in their perilous alliance with an
' Mis. Shuiidan's eldc.it brother.
' (tilt-rick. _
76 MEMOIRS
orchestra. Indeed , those elephants of old , lhal used to tread down
the ranks they were brought to assist , were but a type of the havoc
that is sometimes made both of ntelody and meaning by the over-
laying aid of accompaniments.
" DEAR SIR ,
" Mr. Harris wishes so much for us to get you to town , that I could
not at first convince him that your proposal of not coming till the music
was in rehearsal , was certainly the best as you could stay but so short a
time. The truth is that what you mention of my getting a master to teach
the performers is the very point where the matter sticks, there being no
such person as a master among them. Harris is sensible there ought to be
such a person ; however, at present , every body sings there according to
their own ideas, or what chance instruction they can come at. We are,
however, to follow your plan in the matter ; but can at no rate relinquish
the hopes of seeing you in eight or ten days from the date of this ; when
the music (by the specimen of expedition you have given me) will be
advanced asfar asyou mention. The parts are all writ out and doubled, etc.
as we go on, as I have assistance from the theatre with me.
" My intention was to have closed the first act with a song, but I find
it is not thought so well. Hence I trust you with one of the inclosed papers;
and, at the same time , you must excuse my impertinence in adding an
idea of the cast- 1 would wish the music to have, as I think I have heard
you say you never heard Leoni1, and I cannot briefly explain to you the
character and situation of the persons on the stage with him. The first
( a dialogue between Quick and Mrs. 3Iattocks, ) J I would wish to be a
pert, sprightly air ; for, though some of the words mayn't seem suited to
it, I should mention that they are neither of them in earnest in what they
say. Leoni takes it up seriously, and I want him to show himself advanta-
geously in the six lines, beginning ' Gentle maid.' I should tell you, that
he sings nothing well but in a plaintive or pastoral style; and his voice is
such as appears to me always to be hurt by much accompaniment. I have
observed , too, that he never gets so much applause as when he makes a
cadence. Therefore my idea is, that he should make a flourish at ' Shall
I grieve thee ?' and return to ' Gentle maid ,' and so sing that part of the
tune again.3 After that, the two last lines, sung by the three, with the
persons only varied, may get them off with as much spirit as possible.
The second act ends with a slow glee , therefore I should think the two
last lines in question had better be brisk , especially as Quick and Mrs.
Mattocks are concerned in it.
" The other is a song of Wilson's in the third act. I have written it to
your tune, which you put some words to, beginning 'Prithee, prithee,
pretty man ! ' I think it w ill do vastly well for the words : Don Jerome
sings them when he is in particular spirits ; therefore the tune is not too
Jight, though it might seem so by the last stanza— but he does not mean
1 Leoni played Don Carlos.
2 Isaac and Donna Louisa.
3 It will be perceived , Ly a reference to the music of the opera , that Mr. Linley
followed these instructions implicitly and successfully.
OF K. B. SHERIDAN. 77
to be grave there , and I like particularly the returning to * O the clays
when 1 \\as young! ' We have mislaid the notes, but Tom remembers it.
If you don't like it for words , will you give us one ? but it must go back
to ' O the days,' and be funny. I have not done troubling you yet, but
must wait till Monday."
A subsequent letter contains further particulars of their pro-
" DEAR SIR,
" Sunday evening next is fixed for our first musical rehearsal, and I
was in great hopes we might have completed the score. The songs you
have sent up of ' Banna's Banks,' and ' Deil take the wars,' I had made
words for before they arrived, which answer excessively well ; and this
was my reason for wishing for the next in the same manner, as ft saves
so much time. They are to sing ' Wind, gentle evergreen ,' just as you
sing it (only with other words) , and I wanted only such support from
the instruments , or such joining in , as you should think would help to
set off and assist the effort. I inclose the words I had made for ' Wind,
gentle evergreen ,' which will be sung , • as a catch , by Mrs. Mattocks ,
Dubellamy ', and Leoni. I don't mind the words not fitting the notes so
well as the original ones. ' How merrily we live ,' and ' Let's drink and
let's sing,' are to be sung by a company tf. friars over their wine. a The
words will be parodied, and the chief effect I expect from them must arise
from their being known ; for the joke will be much less for these jolly
fathers to sing any thing new, than to give what the audience are used
to annex the idea of jollity to. For the other things Betsey mentioned, I
only wish to have them with such accompaniment as you would put to
their present words, and I shall have got words to my liking for them by
the time they reach me.
" My immediate wish at present is to give the performers their parts in
the music ( which they expect on Sunday night) , and for any assistance
the orchestra can give to help the effect of the glees , etc. , that may be
judged of and added at a rehearsal, or, as you say, on inquiring how they
have been done ; though I don't think it follows that what Dr. Arne's
method is must be the best. If it were possible for Saturday and Sunday's
post to bring us what we asked for in our last letters , and what I now
enclose, we should still go through it on Sunday , and the performers
should have their parts complete by Monday night. We have had our
rehearsal of the speaking part, and are to have another on Saturday. I
want Dr. Harrington's catch, but, as the sense must be the same, I am
at a loss how to put other words. Can't the under part ( 'A smoky house, etc.')
be sung by one person and the other two change? The situation is —
Quick and Dubellamy, two lovers, carrying away Father Paul (Reinold)
in great raptures, to marry them : — the Friar has before warned them of
the ills of a married life, and they break out into this. The catch is parti-
cularly calculated for a stage effect^ but I don't like to take another per-
: Don Antonio.
* For these was afterwards substituted Mr. Linlcy's lively glee, "This bottk-'s
tliesnnof our table."
78 MEMOIRS
son's words, and I don't see how I can put others, keeping the same idea,
( ' of seven squalling brats, etc.' ) in which the whole affair lies. However,
I shall be glad of the notes, with Reinold's part, if it is possible , as I
mentioned ' .
" I have literally and really not had time to write the words of any
thing more first and then send them to you, and this obliges me to use
this apparently awkward way. *****»*»**
-' My father was astonishingly well received on Saturday night in
Cato : I think it will not be many days before we are reconciled.
" The inclosed are the words for ' Wind, gentle evergreen ; ' a passio-
nate song for Mattocks3, and another for Miss Brown3, which solicit to
be clothed with melody by you, and are all I want. Mattocks's I could
wish to be a broken , passionate affair, and the first two lines may be
recitative, or what you please, uncommon. Miss Brown sings hers in a
joyful mood : we want her to show in it as much execution as she is
capable of, which is prette well ; and for variety, we want Mr. Simpson's
hautboy to cut a figure , with replying passages , etc. , in the way of
Fisher's ' M'ami, ilbel idol mio,' to abet which I have Itjgged in ' Echo,'
who is always allowed to play her part. I have not a moment more. Yours
ever sincerely."
The next and last extract I shall give at present is from a letter ,
dated Nov. 2, 1775, about three weeks before the first representation
of the opera.
" Our music is now all finished and rehearsing, but we are greatly im-
patient to see you. We hold your coming to' be necessary beyond con-
ception. You say you are at our service after Tuesday next ; then ' I
conjure you by that you do possess,' in which I include all the powers
that preside over harmony , to come next Thursday night ( this day
se'nnight), and we will fix a rehearsal for Friday morning. From what
I see of their rehearsing at present , I am become still more anxious to
see you.
" We have received all your songs, and are vastly pleased with them.
You misunderstood me as to the hautboy song; I had not the least in-
tention to fix on ' Bel idol mio? However, I think it is particularly well
adapted, and, I doubt not, will have a great effect." * * '
An allusion which occurs in these letters to the prospect of a re-
conciliation with his father gives me an opportunity of mentioning
a circumstance , connected with their difference , for the knowledge
1 This.5dea was afterwards relinqnished.
1 The words of this song, in compqsing which the directions here given were
exactly followed, are to be found in scarce any of the editions of the Duenna.
They are as follows : —
Sharp is the woe , that wounds the jealon|(inind,
When treachery two fond hearts would rend ;
But oil ! how keener far the pang to figd
That traitor in a bosom friend.
i " Adieu, thon dreary pile."
OF R. B. SHERIDAN. 70
ol which 1 am indebted to one of the persons most interested in
remembering it , and which, as a proof of the natural tendency of
Sheridan's heart to let all its sensibilities flow in the right channel,
ought not to be forgotten. During the run of one of his pieces, hav-
ing received information from an old family servant that his father
who still refused to have any intercourse with him) meant to attend,
wilh his daughters , at the representation of the piece , Sheridan
took up his station by one of the side scenes , opposite to the box
where they sat , and there continued , unobserved , to look at them
during the greater part of the night. On his return home , he was
so affected by the various recollections that came upon him , that
he burst into tears , and , being questioned as to the cause of his
agitation by Mrs. Sheridan , to whom it was new to see him return-
ing thus saddened from the scene of his triumph , he owned how
deeply it had gone to his heart " to think that there sat his father
and his sisters before him , and yet that he alone was not permitted to
go near them or speak to them."
On the 21st of November, 1775, The Duenna was performed at
Covent-Garden , and the following is the original cast of the cha-
racters , as given in the collection of Mr. Sheridan' s Dramatic.
Works :—
Don Ferdinand . ".''".' . . Mr. Mattocks.
Isaac Mendoza . .: . . . Mr. Quick.
Don Jerome . . * ' 1 . . Mr. Wilson.
Don Antonio ..!.-••. . Mr. Dubellamy.
Father Paul ,; ."• »u*. .«-; •• Mr. Wewitzer.
Lopez . ... .».,.•_* • Mr. Watson.
Don Carlos Mr. Leoni.
Francis ........ Mr. Fox.
Lay Brother Mr. Baker.
Donna Louisa Mrs. Mattocks.
Donna Clara . ..':;. Mrs. Cargill'.
The Duenna ...... Mrs . Green.
The run of this opera has , I believe, no parallel in the annals of
the drama. Sixty-three nights was the career of the Beggar's Opera ;
but the Duenna was acted no less than seventy-five times during
the season , the only intermissions being a few days at Christmas ,
and the Fridays in every week ; — the latter on account of Leoni ,
who, being a Jew, could not act on those nights.
In order to counteract this great success of the rival house, Garrick
found it necessary to bring forward all the weight of his own best
< haracters ; and even had recourse to the expedient of playing off
1 This is incorrect : it was Miss Brown that played Donna Clara for the Grst
I' w nights.
80 MEMOIRS
the mother against the son , by reviving Mrs. Frances Sheridan's
comedy of The Discovery, and acting the principal part in it him-
self. In allusion to the increased fatigue which this competition
with The Duenna brought upon Garrick , who was then entering
on his sixtieth year, it was said , by an actor of the day , that " the
old woman would be the death of the old man."
The Duenna is one of the very few operas in our language,
which combine the merits of legitimate comedy with the attractions
of poetry and song 5 — that divorce between sense and sound , to
which Dr. Brown and others trace the cessation of the early mira-
cles of music , being no where more remarkable than in the operas
of the English stage. The "Sovereign of the willing soul" (as
Gray calls Music) always loses by being made exclusive sovereign,
— and the division of her empire with poetry and wit , as in the
instance of The Duenna , doubles her real power.
The intrigue of this piece (which is mainly founded upon an
incident borrowed from the "Country Wife" of Wycherley) is
constructed and managed with considerable adroitness , having just
material enough to be wound out into three acts, without being
encumbered by too much intricacy, or weakened by too much ex-
tension. It does not appear, from the rough copy in my possession,
that any material change was made in the plan of the work , as it
proceeded. Carlos was originally meant to be a Jew, and is called
" Cousin Moses " by Isaac in the first sketch of the dialogue 5 but,
possibly from the consideration that this would apply too personally
to Lconi , who was to perform the character , its designation was
altered. The scene in the second act, where Carlos is introduced by
Isaac to the Duenna , stood , in its original state , as follows : —
»' Isaac. Moses, sweet coz,'I thrive, I prosper.
" Moses. "Where is your mistress?
" Isaac. There, you booby, there she stands.
" Moses. Why she's damn'd ugly.
*' Isaac. Hush! (stops his mouth.)
" Duenna. What is your friend saying, Dou?
" Isaac. Oh, Ma'am, he's expressing his raptures at such charms as
he never saw before.
" Moses. Aye, such as I never saw before indeed ( aside ).
" Duenna. You are very obliging, gentlemen; but, I dare say, Sir,
your friend is no stranger to the influence of beauty, I doubt not but he
is a lover himself.
«' Moses. Alas! Madam, there is now but one woman living, whom 1
have any love for, and truly, Ma'am, you resemble her wonderfully.
" Duenna. Well, Sir, 1 wish she may give you her band as speedily
as I shall mine to your friend.
" Moses. Me her hand !- O Lord, Ma'am — she is the last woman in
the world I could think of marrying.
OF R. B. SHERIDAN. 8,
" Duenna. What then, Sir, are you comparing me to some wanton-
some courtezan ?
" Isaac. Zounds! he durstn't.
" Moses. O not I, upon my soul.
" Duenna. Yes, he meant some young harlot — some —
" Moses. Oh, dear Madam, no— it was my mother I meant, as 1 hope
to be saved.
" Isaac. Oh the blundering villain! (aside.)
" Duenna. How, Sir — am I so like your mother?
" Isaac. Stay , dear Madam — my friend meant — that you put him in
mind of what his mother was when a girl — didn't you, Moses?
" Moses. Oh yes, Madam, my mother was formerly a great beauty, a
great toast, I assure you ; — and when she married my father about thirty
years ago , as you may perhaps remember, Ma'am —
" Duenna. I, Sir! I remember thirty years ago!
" Isaac. Oh, to be sure not, Ma'am — thirty years! no, no— it was
thirty months he said, Ma'am — wasn't it, Moses?
" Moses. Yes, yes, Ma'am — thirty months ago, on her marriage with my
father, she was, as I was saying, a great beauty; — but catching cold,
the year afterwards , in child-bed of your humble servant —
" Duenna. Of you, Sir! -and married within these thirty months!
'•''Isaac. Oh the devil! he has made himself out but a year old! —
Come, Moses, hold your tongue.— You must excuse \\\m9 Ma'am — he
means to be civil — but he is a poor, simple fellow — an't you, Moses?
" Moses. 'Tis true, indeed, Ma'am," etc. etc. etc.
The greater part of the humour of Moses here was afterwards
transferred to the character of Isaac , and it will be perceived that a
few of the points are still retained by him.
The wit of the dialogue , except in one or two instances , is of
that accessible kind which lies near the surface — which may be
enjoyed without wonder, and rather plays than shines. He had not
yet searched his fancy for those curious fossils of thought, which
make The School for Scandal such a rich museum of wit. Of this
precious kind, however, is the description of Isaac's neutrality in
religion — " like the blank leaf between the Old and New Testa-
ment." As an instance, too, of the occasional abuse of this research,
which led him to mistake laboured conceits for fancies , may be
mentioned the far-fetched comparison of serenaders to Egyptian
embalmers " extracting the brain through the ears." For this,
however, his taste, not his invention , is responsible, as we have
already seen that the thought was borrowed from a letter of his
friend Halhed.
In the speech of Lopez , the servant , with which the opera opens ,
there are , in the original copy, some humorous points , which ap-
pear to have fallen under the pruning knife , but which are not un-
worthy of being gathered up here : —
82 MEMOIRS
" A plague on these haughty damsels , say J : — when they play their
airs on their whining gallants, they ought to consider that we are the-
chief sufferers,— we have all their ill-humours at second-hand. Donna
Louisa's cruelty to my master usually converts itself into blows, by the
time it gets to me : — she can frown me black and blue at any time, and
1 shall carry the marks of the last box on the ear she gave him to my
grave. Nay, if she smiles on any one else, I am the sufferer for it : — if she
says a civil word to a rival , I am a rogue and a scoundrel ; and , if she
sends him a letter, my back is sure to pay the postage."
In the scene between Ferdinand and Jerome (act. ii. scene 3.)
the following lively speech of the latter was , I know not why, left
out : —
" Ferdin.... but he has never sullied his honour, which, with his title,
has outlived his means.
'v Jerome. Have they? More shame for them ! — 'What business have
honour or titles to survive, when property is extinct? Nobility is but as
a helpmate to a good fortune, and like a Japanese wife, should perish on
the funeral pile of the estate ! "
In the iirst act , too, (scene 3.) where Jerome abuses the Duenna ,
there is an equally unaccountable omission of a sentence , in which
he comparot the old lady's face to " parchment , on which Time and
Deformity have engrossed their titles."
Though some of the poetry of this opera is not much above that
ordinary kind , to which music js so often doomed to be wedded —
making up by her own sweetness for the dulness of her helpmate —
by far the greater number of the songs are full of beauty, and some
of them may rank among the best models of lyric writing. The
verses, " Had I a heart for falsehood framed," notwithstanding the
stiffness of this word " framed," and one or two other slight ble-
mishes, are not unworthy of living in recollection with the matchless
air to which they are adapted.
There is another song, less known, from being connected with
less popular music , which , for deep, impassioned feeling , and na-
tural eloquence , has not , perhaps , its rival , through the whole
range of lyric poetry. As these verses, though contained in the
common editions of The Duenna , are not to be found in the
opera, as printed in the British Theatre, and still more strangely,
are omitted in the late Collection of Mr. Sheridan's Works ' , I
should feel myself abundantly authorized in citing them here ,
even if their beauty were not a sufficient excuse for recalling them,
under any circumstances, to the recollection of the reader : —
1 For this Edition of his Works I am no further responsible than in having
communicated to it a few prefatory pages, to account and apologize for the ilelay
of the Life,
OF R. B. SHERIDAN *r,
• Ah, cruel maid, how hast ttioti cliang'd
The temper of iny mind?
My heart , by thee from love estrang'd ,
Becomes , like tbee , unkind.
" By fortune favour 'd , clear in fame ,
I once ambitious was;
And friends I bad who fanu'd the flame ,
And gave my youth applause.
" But now my weakness all accuse ,
Yet vain their taunts on me ;
Friends , fortune , fame itself I'd lose
To gain one smile from thee.
" And only thou should'st not despise
My weakness or iny woe;
If I am mad in others' eyes,
'Tis thon bast made me so.
" But days, like this , with doubting curst ,
I will not long endure —
Am I disdained — I know the worst
And likewise know my cure.
" If, false, her vows she dare renounce,
That instant ends my pain ;
For, oh ! the heart must break at once,
That cannot bate again."
It is impossible to believe that such verses as these had no deeper
inspiration than the imaginary loves of an opera. They bear, burnt
into every line , the marks of personal feeling , and must have been
thrown off in one of those passionate moods of the heart, with which
the poet's own youthful love had made him acquainted, and under
the impression or vivid recollection of which these lines were
written.
In comparing this poem with the original words of the air to
which it is adapted (Parnell's pretty lines , " My days have been so
wondrous free " ) , it will be felt , at once , how wide is the difference
between the cold and graceful effusions of taste, and the fervid bursts
of real genius — between the delicate product of the conservatory ,
and the rich child of the sunshine.
I am the more confirmed in the idea that this song was written
previously to the opera , and from personal feeling , by finding
among his earlier pieces the originals of two other songs — "I ne'er
could any lustre see, " and " What bard , oh Time, discover." The
thought , upon which the latter turns , is taken from a poem already
cited , addressed by him to Mrs. Sheridan in 1773 ; and the follow-
ing is the passage that supplied the material : —
" Alas , thou hast no wings , oh Time,
It was some thoughtless lover's rhyme ,
84 MEMOIRS
Who , writing in his Cloe's view ,
Paid her the compliment through yon.
For, had he, if he truly lov'd,
But once the pangs of absence prov'd ,
He'd cropt thy wings , and, in their stead ,
Have painted thee with heels of lead."
It will be seen presently, that this poem was again despoiled of
some of its lines , for an epilogue which he began a few years after,
upon a very different subject. There is something , it must be owned,
not very sentimental in this conversion of the poetry of affection to
other and less sacred uses — as if, like the ornaments of a passing
pageant , it might be broken up after the show was over, and applied
to more useful purposes. That the young poet should be guilty of
such sacrilege to love , and thus steal back his golden offerings from
the altar, to melt them down into utensils of worldly display, can
only be excused by that demand upon the riches of his fancy, which
the rapidity of his present career in the service of the dramatic muse
occasioned.
There is not the same objection to the appropriation of the other
song , which , it will be seen , is a selection of the best parts of the
following Anacreontic verses : —
" I ne'er could any lustre see '
In eyes that would not look on we :
When a glance aversion hints ,
I always think the-lady squints.
I ne'er saw nectar on a lip ,
But where my own did hope to sip.
No pearly teeth rejoice my view ,
Unless a "yes" displays their hue —
The prudish lip , that noes me back,
Convinces ine the teeth are black.
To me the cheek displays no roses ,
Like that th' assenting blush discloses';
But when with proud disdain 'tis spread ,
To me 'tis but a scurvy red.
Would she have me praise her hair ?
Let her place my garland there.
Is her hand so white and pure ?
I must press it to be sure;
Nor can I be certain then,
Till it grateful press again.
Must I praise her melody?
Let her sing of love and me.
If she choose another theme ,
1 Another mode of beginning this song in the MS : —
" Go tell the maid who seeks to move
My lyre to praise , my heart to love ,
No rose upon her cheek can live ,
Like those assenting blushes give."
OF R. B. SHERIDATN. 85
I'd rather hear a peacock scream.
Must I, with attentive eye,
'„ Watch her lieaviug bosom sigh?
I will do so, when I see
That heaving bosom sigh for me.
None but bigots will iu vaiii
Adore a heav'a they cannot gain.
If I must religious prove
To the mighty God of Love ,
Sure I am it is but fair
He, at least, should hear my grayer.
But by each joy of- his I've kuowu,
And all I yet shall make my own ,
Never will I , with humble speech ,
Pray to a heav'n I cannot reach."
Iii the song, beginning " Friendship is Ihe bond of reason," the
third verse was originally thus : —
" And, should I cheat the world and thee ,
One smile from her I love to win ,
Such breach of human faith would be
A sacrifice , and not a sin."
To the song " Give Isaac the nymph ," there were at first two
more verses , which,- merely to show how judicious was the omis-
sion of them , I shall here transcribe. Next to the advantage of
knowing what to put into our writings , is that of knowing what to
leave out :
«* To one thus accomplish'd I durst speak my mind,
And flattery doubtless would soou make her kind ;
For the man that should praise her she needs must adore .
Who ne'er in her life received praises before.
" But the frowns of a beauty iu hopes to remove ,
Should I prate of her charms, and tell of my love ;
No thanks wait the praise which she knows to be true, •
Nor smiles for the homage she takes as her due."
Among literary piracies or impostures, there are few more auda-
cious than the Dublin edition of the Duenna , — in which , though
the songs are given accurately, an entirely. new dialogue is substi-
tuted for that of Sheridan, and his gold, as in the barter of Glaucus,
exchanged for such copper as the following : —
" Duen. Well, Sir, I don't want to stay in your house ; hut I must go
and lock up my wardrobe.
" Isaac. Your wardrobe! when you came into my house you could
carry your wardrobe in your combcase, you could, you old dragon."
Another specimen : —
" Isaac. Her voice too, you told me, was like a Virginian nightin^.ili' ,
why, it is like a cracked warming-pan : — and as for dimples ! —to be sure,
-lie has the devil's own dimples. — Yes ! and you told me she had a lovely
so, MEMOIRS
down upon her cliin , like the down of a peach ; but, damn me if ever I
saw such down upon any creaturein my life, except once upon an old goat.'"
These jokes-; I need not add, are all the gratuitous contributions
of the editor.
Towards the close of the year 1775, it was understood that Gar-
rick meant to part with' his moiety of the patent of Drury-Lane
Theatre and retire from the stage. He was Uien in the sixtieth year
of his age , and might possibly have been influenced by the natural
feeling , so beautifully expressed for a great actor of our own lime
by our greatest living writer : —
— " Higher duties crave
Some space between the theatre ami the grave ,
That, like the Roman in the Capitol,
I may adjust my mautle , ere I fall '."
The progress of the negotiation between him and Mr. Sheridan ,
which ended in making the latter patentee and manager, cannot
better be traced than in Sheridan's own letters , addressed at the time
to Mr. Linley, and most kindly placed at my disposal by my friend ,
Mr. William Linley.
" DEAR SIR, Sunday, Dec.'$\,\']'j'5.
" I was always one of the slowest letter-writers in the world, though I
have had more excuses than usual for my delay in this instance. The
principal matter of business, on which I was to have written to you ,
related to our embryo negotiation with Garrick, of which I will now
give you an account.
" Since you left town, Mrs. Ewart has been so ill, as to continue near
three weeks at the point of death. This, of course, has prevented Mr. E.
from seeing any body on business, or from accompanying me toGarrick's.
However, about ten days ago, I talked the matter over with him by myself,
and the result was, appointing Thursday evening last to meet him, and to
bring Ewart, which I did accordingly. On the whole of our conversation
that evening, I began ( for the first time ) to think him really serious in
the business. He still , however, kept the reserve of giving the refusal to
Colman, though at the same time he did not hesitate to assert his confi-
dence that CoUnan would decline it. 1 was determined to push him on this
point ( as it was really farcical for us to treat with him under such an
evasion ), and at last he promised to put the question to Colman, and to
give me a decisive answer by the ensuing Sunday (to-day). — Accordingly,
within this hour, I have received a note from him which ( as I meant to
show it my father ) I here transcribe for you.
<" Mr. Garrick presents his compliments to Mr. Sheridan, and as he
is obliged to go into the country for three days, he should be gfad to sc.c
him upon his return to town , either on Wednesday about 6 or 7 o'clock
or whenever he pleases. The parly has no objection to the whole , but
1 Kcroble's Farewell Address on taking leave of the Edinburgh stage, written
J>y Sir Walter Scott.
OK R. B. SHERIDAN. 87
f/W»r.v no partner but Mr. G. — Not a word of this yet. Mr. G. sent a
messenger on purpose (i.e. to Co/man). — He would call upon Mr. S. ,
?>i,t he is confined at home. — Four name is upon our list.'
" This decisu'e. answer may be taken two ways. However as Mr.' G.
informed Mr- Ewartand me , that he had no authority or pretensions to
treat for the whole, it appears to me that Mr. Garrick's meaning in this
note is, that Mr. Colman declines the purchase of Mr. Garrick's share.,
which is the point in debate, and the only part at present to be sold. I shall,
therefore, wait on G. at the time mentioned, and if J understand him right,
we shall certainly without delay appoint two men of business and the law
to meet on the matter, and come to a conclusion without further delay.
" -According to his demand, the whole is valued at ^o,ooo/. He appears
very shy of letting his books be looked into, as the test of the profits on
this sum, but says it must be , in its nature, a purchase on speculation.
However, he has promised me a rough estimate, of his own, of the entire
receipts for the last seven years. But, after all, it must certainly be a put-
cha.se on speculation , without money's worth being made out. One point
he solemnly avers, which is, that he will never part with it under the
price above mentioned.
" This is all I can say on the subject till Wednesday, though 1 can't
help adding, that I think we might safely give five thousand pounds more
on this purchase than richer people. The whole valued at yo,ooo/., the
annual interest is 5,5oo/ ,• while this is cleared, the proprietors are safe,
— but I think it must be infernal management indeed that does not
double it.
" I suppose Mr. Stanley has written to you relative to your oratorio
orchestra. The demand, I reckon, will be diminished one-third , and the
appearance remain very handsome , which , if the other affair takes place ,
you will find your account in ; and , if you discontinue your partnership
with Stanley at Drury-Lane, the orchestra may revert to whichever wants
it, on the other's paying his proportion for the use of it this year. This
is Mr. Garrick's idea, and, as he says, might in that case be settled by
arbitration.
" You have heard of our losing Miss Brown; however, we have missed
her so little in theDucnna,that the managers have not tried to regain her,
\% hich I believe they might have done. I have had some books of the music
these many days to send you down. I wanted to put Tom's name in the
new music, and begged Mrs. L. to ask you , and let me have a line on her
arrival , for which purpose I kept back the index of the songs. If you or
he have no objection, pray, let me know. — I'll send the music to-morrow.
" I am finishing a two act comedy for Covent-Garden , which will be
in rehearsal in a week. We have given the Duenna a respite this Christ-
inas, but nothing else at present brings money. We have every place in
the house taken for the three next nights, and shall, at least, play it fifty
nights, with only the Friday's intermission.
"• My best love and the compliments of rhe* season to all your fire-side.
" Your grandson is a very magnificent fellow '.
" Yours ever sincerely ,
" R. B. SlIERIPAS."
Sliciidan'g first child, Thomas, born in the preceding ><ar.
88 MEMOIRS
"DEAR SIR, January^, 1776.
" I left Garrick last night too late to write to you. He has offered Col-
man the refusal, and showed me his answer; which was (as in the note)
that he was willing to purchase the whole, but would have no partner
but Garrick. On this, Mr. Garrick appointed a meeting with his part-
ner, young Lacy, and, in presence of their solicitor, treasurer, etc., de-
clared to him that he was absolutely on the point of settling , and, if he
was willing , he might have the same price for his share ; but that if he
(Lacy) would not sell, Mr. Garrick would, instantly, to another party.
The result was, Lacy's declaring his intention of not parting with his
share. Of this Garrick again informed Colman, who immediately gave
up the whole matter.
" Garrick was extremely explicit, and, in short, we came to a final
resolutiou. So that, if the necessary matters are made out to all our
satisfactions , we may sign and seal a previous agreement within a
fortnight.
" I meet him again to-morrow evening, when we are to name a day
for a conveyancer on our side , to meet his solicitor, Wallace. I have
pitched on a Mr. Phips, at the recommendation and by the advice of
Dr. Ford. The three first steps to be taken are these, — our lawyer is to
look into the titles, tenures, etc. of the house and adjoining estate, the
extent and limitations of the patent, etc. "We should then employ a
builder (I think , Mr. Collins), to survey the state and repair in which
the whole premises are, to which G. entirely assents. Mr. G. will then
give us a fair and attested estimate from his books of what the profits
have been , at an average , for these last seven years' . This he has shown
me in rough, and valuing the property at 70,000^, the interest has ex-
ceeded ten per cent.
"We should, after this, certainly, make an interest to get the King's
promise, that, while the theatre is well conducted, etc he will grant no
patent for a third, - though G. seems confident that he never will. If
there is any truth in profession and appearances, G. seems likely always
to continue our friend, and to give every assistance in his power.
"The method of our sharing the purchase, I should think, may be
thus,— Ewart, to take io,ooo/, you, io,ooo/., and I, io,ooo/. — Dr.
Ford agrees , with the greatest pleasure , to embark the other five; and,
if you do not choose to venture so much, will, I dare say, share it with
you. Ewart is preparing his money, and I have a certainty of my part. We
shall have a very useful ally in Doctor Ford ; and my father offers his ser-
vices on our own terms We cannot unite Garrick to our interests too
firmly ; and I am convinced his influence will bring Lacy to our terms, if
he should be ill-advised enough to desire to interfere in what he is to-
tally unqualified for.
"I'll write to you to-morrow, relative to Lacy's mortgage ( which
Garrick has, and advises us to take), and many other particulars. When
matters are in a certain train (which I hope will be in a week), 1 sup-
1 These accounts were found among Mr. Sheridan's papers. Garrkk's income
from the theatre for the year 1775-6 , is thus stated : — " Author, 400/., salary,
800/., manager, 500/."
OF R. B. SHERIDAN. 89
pose you will not hesitate to come to town for a day or two. Garrick
proposes, when we are satisfied with the bargain, to sign a previous ar-
ticle , with a penalty of ten thousand pounds on the parlies who break
from fulfilling the purchase. When we are once satisfied and determined
in the business ( which , I own, is my case) , the sooner that is done the
better. I must urge it particularly, as my confidential connexion with the
other house is peculiarly distressing , till I can with prudence reveal my
situation, and such a treaty (however prudently managed) cannot long
be kept secret, especially as Lacy is now convinced of Garrick's reso-
lution.
"lam exceedingly hurried at present, so, excuse omissions, and do
not flag, when we come to the point. I'll answer for it, we shall see
many golden campaigns.
" Yours ever,
"R. B. SHERIDAN."
" You have heard, I suppose, that Foote is likely never to show his
face again."
"DEAR SIR, January 5ist, 1776.
" I am glad you have found a person who will let you have the money at
4 per cent. The security will be very clear; but, as there is some degree
of risk, as in case of fire, I think 4 per cent, uncommonly reasonable. —
It will scarcely be any advantage to pay it off, for your houses and chapel,
I suppose, bring in much more. Therefore, while you can raise money at 4
per cent, on the security of your theatrical share only, you will be
right to alter, as little as you can, the present disposition of your pro-
perty.
" As to your quitting Bath , I cannot see why you should doubt a mo-
ment about it Surely, the undertaking in which you embark such a sum
as io,ooo/. ought to be the chief object of your attention— and , suppo-
sing you did not chuse to give up all your time to the theatre, you may
certainly employ yourself more profitably in London than in Bath. But,
if you are willing ( as I suppose you will be ) to make the theatre the
great object of your attention, rely on it you may lay aside every doubt
of not finding your account in it; for the fact is, we shall have nothing
but our own equity to consult in making and obtaining any demand for
exclusive trouble. Lacy is utterly unequal to any department in the
theatre. He has an opinion of me, and is very willing to let the whole bur-
then and ostensibility be taken off his shoulders. But I certainly should
not give up my time and labour (for his superior advantage, having so
much greater a share) without some exclusive advantage. Yet, I should
by no means make the demand till I had shown myself equal to the task.
My father purposes to be with us but one year; and that only to give me
what advantage he can from his experience. He certainly must be paid
for his trouble , and so certainly must you. You have experience and
character equal to the line you would undertake; and it never can
enter into any body's head that you were to give your time or am p.uf
of your attention gratis, because you had a share in the theatre. I have
spoke on this subject both to Garrick and Lacy , and you will find no
T.O MEMOIRS
demur on any side to your gaining a certain income from the theatre —
greater, I think , than you could make oat of it — and in this the theatre
will he acting ;only for its own advantage. At the same time you mav
always make leisure for a few select scholars, whose interest may also
serve the greater cause of your patentee-ship.
" I have had a young man with me who wants to appear as a singer
in plays or oratorios. I think you'll find him likely to he serviceable in
cither. He is not one-and-twenty , and has no conceit. He has a good
tenor voice — very good ear, and a great deal of execution, of the right
kind. He reads notes very quick, and can accompany himself. This is
Betsey's verdict, who sat in judgment on him on Sunday last. I have
given him no answer, but engaged him to wait till you come to town.
" You must not regard the reports in the paper about a third theatre;
— that's all nonsense.
" Betsey's and my love to all. Your grandson astonishes every body by
his vivacity, his talents for music and poetry, and the most perfect inte-
grity of mind.
" Yours most sincerely,
"R. B. SHERIDAN."
Tn the following June the contract with Garrick was perfected;
and, in a paper drawn up by Mr Sheridan many years after, I find
the shares of the respective purchasers thus staled : —
Mr. Sheridan, two fourteenths of the whole io,ooo/.
Mr. Linley, ditto — — io,ooo/.
Dr. Ford, 3 ditto — i5,ooo/.
Mr. Ewart, it will be perceived, though originally mentioned
as one of the parties , had no concern in lire final arrangement.
Though the letters, just cited , furnish a more detailed account
than has yet been given to the public of this transaction by which
Mr. Sheridan became possessed of his theatrical property, they still
leave us in the dark with respect to the source, from which his
own means of completing the purchase were derived. Not even to
Mr. Linley, while entering into all other details, does he hint at the
fountain-head from which this supply is to come ; —
" — gentes maluit ortus
niirari, quam nosse tuos."
There was, indeed , something mysterious and miraculous about
all his acquisitions, whether in love, in learning, in wit or in
wealth. How or when his stock of knowledge was laid in, nobody
knew — it was as much a matter of marvel to those who never saw
him read , as the existence of the chameleon has been to those who
fancied it never eat. His advances in the heart of his mislress were .
as we have seen , equally trackless and inaudible . and his triumph
was the first that even rivals knew of his love. In like manner, the
OF R. B. SHERIDAN. 01
productions of his wit.took the world by surprize, —being perfected
in secret , till ready for display, and then seeming to break from
under the cloud of his indolence in full maturity of splendour. His
financial resources had no less an air of magic about them ; and the
mode by which he conjured up, at this time, the money 'for his
tirsl purchase into the theatre , remains , as far as I can learn , still
a mystery. It has been said that Mr. Garrick supplied him with the
means — but a perusal of the above letters musj set that notion to rest.
There was evidently at this lime no such confidential understanding
between them as an act of friendship of so signal a nature would im-
ply; and it appears lhat Sheridan had the purchase money ready, even
before the terms upon which Garrick would sell were ascertained.
That Doctor Ford should have advanced the money is not less im-
probable; for the share of which, contrary to his first intention , he
ultimately became proprietor, absorbed, there is every reason to
think , the whole of his disposable means. He was afterwards a
sufferer by the concern to such an extent, as to be obliged, in
consequence of his embarrassments, to absent himself for a con-
siderable lime from England 5 and Ihere are among the papers of
Mr. Sheridan , several letters of remonstrance addressed to him by
the son of Dr. Ford , in which some allusion to such a friendly
service, had it ever occurred , would hardly have been omitted.
About the end of this year some dissenlions arose between the
new patentees and Mr. Lacy, in consequence of the expressed in-
tention of the latter to introduce two other partners into Ihe establish-
ment , by the disposal of his share to captain Thomson and a
Mr. Langford. By an account of this Iransaclion , which appears in
a Periodical Paper published at the time ', and which, from its cor-
rectness in other particulars, I ralher Ihink may be depended on, it
would seem thai Sheridan, in his opposition to Lacy, had proceeded
to the extremity of seceding from his own duties at the theatre , and
inducing the principal actors to adopt the same line of conduct.*
" Does not the rage (asks this writer) of the new managers, all directed
against the innocent and justifiable conduct of Mr. Lacy, look as if they
meant to rule a theatre , of which they have only a moiety among them,
and feared the additional weight and influence which would be given to
.Mr. Lacy by the assistance of Captain Thomson and Mr. Langford? If
their intentions were right, why should they fear to have their power
balanced , and their conduct examined ? Is there a precedent in the an-
nals of the theatre , where the acting manager deserted the general pro-
perty, left the house, and seduced the actors from their duties— why i'
forsooth, because he was angry. Is not such conduct actionable? In any
< oncern of common property, Lord Mansfield would make it so. And,
' The Selector.
92 MEMOIRS
what an insult to the public , from whose indulgence and favour this
conceited young man , with his wife and family, are to receive their daily
bread ! Because Mr. Lacy, in his opinion , had used him ill — his patrons
and benefactors might go to the devil ! Mr. Lacy acted with great temper and
moderation; and, in order that. the public might not be wholly disap-
pointed, he brought on old stock-plays — his brother-manager having
robbed him of the means and instruments to do otherwise, by taking
away the performers."
It is also intimated in the same publication that Mr. Garrick had
on this occasion " given Mr. Sheridan credit on his banker for
20,000/. for law expenses or for the purchase of Messrs. Langford
and Thomson's shares."
The dispute, however, was adjusted amicably. Mr. Lacy was
prevailed upon to write an apology to the public , and the design
of disposing of his share in the theatre was for the present relin-
quished.
There is an allusion to this reconciliation in the following cha-
racteristic letter, addressed by Sheridan to Mr. Linley in the spring
of the following year.
'; DEAR SIR,
" You \vrite to me though you tell me you have nothing to say — now,
1 have reversed the case , and have not wrote to you, because I have had
so much to say. However, I fmd I have delayed too long to attempt now
to transmit you a long detail of our theatrical manoeuvres ; but you must
not attribute my not writing to idleness, but on the contrary to my
no/. having been idle.
" You represent your situation of mind between hopes anAJears. I am
afraid I should argue in vain ( as I have often on this point before) were
I to tell you , that it is always better to encourage the former than the
latter. It may be very prudent to mix a littleyear by way of alloy with a
good solid mass of hope ; but you , oh the contrary, always deal in ap-
prc^icnsion by the.pound, and take confidence by the grain , and spread
as thin as leaf gold. In fact, though a metaphor mayn't explain it, the
truth is, that, in all undertakings which depend principally on our-
selves , the surest way not to fail is to determine to succeed.
" It would be endless to say more at present about theatrical matters,
only, that every thing is going on very well. Lacy promised me to write
to you, which I suppose, however, he has not done. At our first meet-
ing after you left town, he cleared away all my doubts about his since-
rity ; and I dare swear we shall never have the least misunderstanding
again, nor do I believe he will ever take any distinct council in future.
Relative to your affair he has not the shade of an objection remaining ,
and is only anxious that you may not take amiss his boggling at first. We
have, by and with the advice of the privy council, concluded to have No-
verre over, and there is a species of pantomime to be shortly put on foot ,
OF R. B. SHERIDAN. 93
which is to draw all the human kind to Drury '. This is become abso-
lutely necessary on account of a marvellous preparation of the kind which
is making at Covent-Garden.
'* Touching the tragedies you mention, if you speak of them merely
as certain tragedies that maj be had, I should think it impossible we
could Gnd the least room , as you know Garrick saddles us with one
which we must bring out. But, if you have any particular desire that
one of them should be done, it is another affair, and I should be glad to
see them. Otherwise, I would much rather you would save me the dis-
agreeableness of giving my opinion to a fresh tragic bard, being already
in disgrace with about nine of that irascible fraternity.
" Betsey has been alarmed about Tom, but without reason. He is in
my opinion better than when you left him, at least to appearance, and
the cold he caught is gone. We sent to see him at Battersea, and would
have persuaded him to remove to Orchard Street; but he thinks the air
does him good, and he seems with people where he is at home, and may
divert himself, which, perhaps, will do him more good than the air, —
but he is to be with us soon.
" Ormsby has sent me a silver branch on the score of the Duenna.
This will cost me , what of all things I am least free of, a letter : and it
should have been a poetical one , too , if the present had been any piece
of plate , but a candlestick ! — I believe I must melt it into a bowl to make
verses on it, for there is no possibility of bringing candle, candlestick
or snuffers, into metre. However, as the gift was owing to the muse, and
the manner of it very friendly, I believe I shall try to jingle a little on the
occasion ; at least, a few such stanzas as might gain a cup of tea from the
urn at Bath-Easton.
"Betsey is very well, and on the point of giving Tom up to feed like
a Christian and a gentleman, or, in other words, of weaning, waining ,
or weening him. As for the young gentleman himself, his progress is so
rapid , that one may plainly see the astonishment the sun is in of a morn-
ing , at the improvement of the night. Our loves to all.
" Yours ever, and truly,
" R. B. SHERIDAN."
The first contribution which the dramatic talent of the new ma-
nager furnished to the stock of the theatre , was an alteration of
Vanbrugh's comedy, The Relapse, which was brought out on
the 24th of February, 1777, under the title of" A Trip to Scar-
borough."
In reading the original play, we are struck with surprise, that
Sheridan should ever have hoped to be able to defecate such dia-
logue, and yet leave any of the wit , whose whole spirit is in the
lees , behind. The very life of such characters as Berinthia is their
licentiousness, and it is with them, as with objects that are luminous
from putrescence, — to remove their taint is to extinguish their
I find that the pantomime at Drnry-Lane this year was a revival of " Harle-
quin's Invasion," and that at Covent-Garden "Harlequin's Frolics."
9i MEMOIRS
light. If Sheridan, indeed, had substituted some of his own wit for
that which he took away, the inanition that followed the operation
would have been much less sensibly felt. But to be so liberal of a
treasure so precious, and for the enrichment of the work of another,
could hardly have been expected from him. Besides, it may be
doubted whether the subject had not already yielded its utmost to
Vanbrugh , and whether, even in the hands of Sheridan, it could
have been brought to bear a second crop of wit. Here and there
through the dialogue, there are some touches from his pen — more,
however, in the style of his farce than his comedy. For instance ,
that speech of Lord Foppington , where , directing the hosier not
" to thicken the calves of his stockings so much," he says, " You
should always remember, Mr. Hosier, that if you make a nobleman's
spring legs as robust as his autumnal calves, you commit a mon-
strous impropriety, and make no allowance for the fatigues of the
winter.1' Again, the following dialogue : —
"Jeweller. Ihope, my lord, those buckles have had the unspeakable
satisfaction of being honoured with your lordship's approbation ?
" Lord F. Why, they are of a pretty fancy ; but don't you think them
rather of the smallest ?
' ' Jeweller. My lord , they could not well be larger, to keep on your
lordship's shoe.
" LordF. My good sir, you forget that these matters are not as they
used to be : formerly, indeed, the buckle was a sort of machine , intended
to keep on the shoe; but the case is now quite reversed, and the shoe is
of no earthly use , but to keep on the buckle."
About this time Mrs. Sheridan went to pass a few weeks with her
father and mother at Bath, while Sheridan himself remained in
town, to superintend the concerns of the theatre. During this in-
terval he addressed to her the following verses , which I quote , less
from their own peculiar merit , than as a proof how little his heart
had yet lost of those first feelings of love and gallantry which loo
often expire in matrimony, as Faith and Hope do in heaven , and
from thetsame causes —
" One lost in certainty , and one in joy."
" To Laura.
" Near Avon's ridgy bank there grows
A willow of no vulgar size ,
That tree first heard poor Silvio's woes,
And heard how bright were Laura's eyes.
Its boughs were shade from heat or show'r,
Its roots a moss-grown seat became 5
Its leaves would strew the maiden's bow'r ,
Its bark was shatter'd with her name !
OF R. B. SHERIDAN 95
i nice 011 a blossom-crowned day «
Of mirth-inspiring May •
Silvio , beneath tiiis willow's sober shade
lu sullen contemplation laid ,
Did mock the mearlow's flowery pride ,
Rail'd at the dance and sportive ring; —
The tabor's call he did deride ,
And said , it was not Spring,
He sconr'd the sky of azure blue,
He scorn'd whate'er could mirth bespeak ;
He cliid the beam that drank the dew,
And chid the gale that fauu'd his glowing cheek.
Unpaid the season's wonted lay ,
For still he sigh'd, and said, it was not May.
" Ah , why should the glittering stream
" Reflect thus delusive the scene ?
" Ah , why does a rosy-ting'd beam ,
" Thus vainly enamel the green ?
" To me nor joy nor light they bring
" I tell thee , Phoebus , 'tis not Spring.
« ' Sweet tut'ress of music and love ,
" Sweet bird, if 'tis thee that I hear,
' ' Why left you so early tfie grove ,
" To lavish your melody here ?
" Cease, then, mistaken thus to sing ,
j^Sweet nightingale ! it is not Spring.
" The gale courts my locks but to tease ,
" And , Zephyr , I call'd not on thee ;
" Thy fragrance no longer cau please ,
** Then rob not the blossoms for me :
" But hence unload thy balmy wing,
" Believe me, Zephyr , 'tis not Spring.
" Yet the lily has drank of the show'r ,
" And the rose 'gins to peep on the day ;
" And yon bee seems to search for a flow'r ,
'* As busy as if it were May : —
•' In vain , thou senseless flutt'ring thing,
" My heart informs tne, 'tis not Spring."
May pois'd her roseate wings , for she had heard
The mourner, as she pass'd the vales along;
And, silencing her own indignant bird.
She thus repjov'd poor Silvio's song.
•' How false is the sight of a lover;
" How ready his spleen to discover
" What reason would never allow i
" Why , — Silvio, my sunshine and show'rs,
" My blossoms , my birds , and my flow'rs ,
" Were never more perfect than now.
*' The water's reflection is true,
" The green is enamell'd to view ,
9(i MEMOIRS
" And Pliilomel sings <)• the spray;
" The gale is the breathingW spring ,
" 'Tis fragrance it bears on its wing ,
" And the bee is assar'd it is May"
" Pardon (said Silvio with a gushing tear ) ,
" 'Tis spring, sweet nymph, but Laura is not here."
In sending these verses to Mrs. Skeridan, he had also written
her a description of some splendid party, at which he had lately
been present , where all the finest women of the world of fashion
were assembled. His praises of their beauty, as well as his account
of their flattering attentions to himself, awakened a feeling of at
least poetical jealousy in Mrs. Sheridan , which she expressed in
the following answer to his verses — taking occasion , at the same
time , to pay some generous compliments to the most brilliant
among his new fashionable friends. Though her verses are of that
kind which we read more with interest than admiration , they have
quite enough of talent for the gentle themes to which she aspired ;
and there is, besides, a charm about them, as coming from
Mrs. Sheridan , to which far better poetry could not pretend.
" To SUvio.
" Soft flow'd the lay by Avon's sedgy side.
While o'er its streams the drooping willow hung ,
Beneathwliose shadow Silvio fondly tried
To check the opening roses as they sprung.
In vain he bade them cease to court the gale,
That wanton'd balmy on the zephyr's wing ;
In vain , wheu Pliilomel renew'd her tale,
He chid her song, and said, " It was not Spring."
For still they bloom'd, tho' Silvio's heart was sad,
Nor did sweet Philomel neglect to sing ;
The zephyrs scorn'd them not , tho' Silvio had ,
For love and iiature told them it was Spring ' .
To other scenes doth Silvio now repair,
To nobler themes his daring Muse aspires;
Around him throng the gay, the young, the fair,
His lively wit the list'uiug crowd admires.
And see , where radiant Beanty smiling stands ,
With gentle voice and soft beseeching eyes ,
To gain the laurel from his willing hands ,
Her every art the fond enchantress tries.
What various charms the admiring youth surround,
How shall he sing, or how attempt to praise?
So lovely all — where shall the bard be found ,
Who can to one alone attune his lays ?
1 As the poem altogether would be too long ', I have here omitted fire or six
stanzas.
OF R. B. SHERIDAN. 97
Behold with graceful step and smile serene,
Majestic Stella ' moves to claim the prize ;
" 'Tis thine," he cries, "for thou art beauty's queen."
Mistaken youth and seest thou Myra's a eyes?
With beaming lustre see they dart at thee ,
Ah! dread their vengeance— yet withhold thy hand , —
That deep'ning blush upbraids thy rash decree 5
Her's is the wreath— obey the just demand.
" Pardon, bright nymph " (the wond'ring Silvio cries) ,
" And oh , receive the wreath thy beauty's due " —
His voice awards what still his hand denies ,
For beauteous Amoret 3 now his eyes pursue.
With gentle step and hesitating grace,
Unconscious of her pow'r, the fair one came :
If, while he view'd the glories of that face,
Poor Silvio doubted , — who shall dare to blame ?
A rosy blush his ardent gaze reprov'd ,
The offer'd wreath she modestly declined; —
" If sprightly wit and dimpled smiles are lov'd,
" My brow ," said Flavia 4 , " shall that garland bind.
With wanton gaiety the prize she seized —
Silvio in vain her snowy hand repell'd ;
The fickle youth unwillingly was pleas'd;
Reluctantly the wreath he yet withheld.
But Jessie's 5 all seducing form appears ,
Nor more the playful Flavia could delight ;
Lovely in smiles , more lovely still in tears ,
Her every glance shone eloquently bright.
Those radiant eyes in safety none could view,
Did not those fringed lids their brightness shade —
Mistaken youths ! their beams , too late ye knew ,
Are by that soft, defence more fatal made.
" O God of Love ! " with transport Silvio cries ,
" Assist me thou , this contest to decide :
" And since to one I cannot yield the prize ,
"Permit thy slave the garland to divide.
" On Myra's breast the opening rose shall blow,
" Reflecting from her cheek a livelier bloom ;
" For Stella shall the bright carnation glow —
" Beneath her eyes' bright radiance meet its doom.*
" Smart pinks and daffodils shall Flavia grace,
" The modest eglantine and violet blue
" On gentle Amoret's placid brow I'll place —
" Of elegance and love an emblem true. "
1 According to the Key which has been given me, the name of Stella was meant
to designate the Dachess of Rutland.
1 The Dnchess of Devonshire.
1 Mrs. (afterwards Lady) Crewe.
4 Lady Craven, afterwards Margravine of Anspach.
' The late Countess of Jersey.
9S MEMOIRS
In gardens oft a beanleous flow'r there grows ,
By vulgar eyes unnotic'd and unseen ;
In sweet security it I nimbly blows ,
And rears its purple bead to deck the green.
This flower, as nature's poet sweetly sings ,
Was once milk-white , and fieart's-ease was its name j
Till wanton Cupid pois'd his roseate wings ,
A vestal's sacred bosom to inflame.
With treacherous aim the god bis arrow drew ,
Which she with icy coldness did repel ;
Rebounding thence with feathery speed it flew,
Till on this louely flow'r at last it fell.
Heart's-ease no more the wandering shepherds found,
No more the nymphs its snowy form possess ,
Its white now chang'd to purple by Love's wound ,
Heart's-ease no more , 'tis " Love in Idleness."
" This flow'r, with sweet-brier joiu'd , shall thee adorn ,
" Sweet Jessie , fairest mid ten thousand fair !
" But guard thy gentle bosom from the thorn,
" Which, tlio' conceal'd , the sweet-brier still must bear
" And place not Love , tho' idle , in thy breast,
" Tho' bright its hues , it boasts no other charm —
" So may thy future days be ever blest ,
" And friendship's calmer joys thy bosom warm ! "
But where does Laura pass her lonely hours?
Does she still haunt the grot and willow-tree?
Shall Silvio from his wreath of various flow'rs
Neglect to cull one simple sweet for thee ?
"Ah Laura, no," the constant Silvio cries,
" For thee an ever-fading wreath I'll twine;
" Though bright the rose , its bloom too swiftly flies ,
" No emblem meet for love so true as mine.
" For thee, my love , the myrtle , ever-green,
" Shall every year its blossom sweet disclose,
" Which , when our spring of youth no more is seen ,
" Shall still appear more lovely than the rose. "
" Forgive, dear youth," the happy Laura said,
" Forgive each doubt , each fondly anxious fear ,
" Which from my heart for ever now is fled—
" Thy love and truth , thus tried, are doubly dear.
" With pain I mark'd the various passions rise ,
" When beauty so divine before thee mov'd;
" With trembling doubt beheld thy wandering eyes,
" For still I fear'd ; — alas ! because I lov'd.
" Each anxious doubt shall Laura now forego,
" No more regret those joys so lately known ,
" Conscious , that tho' thy breast to all may glow ,
" Thy faithful heart shall beat for her alone.
OF R. B. SHERIDAN 99
" Then, Silvio, seize again thy tuneful lyre,
" Nor yet sweet Beauty's power forbear to praise ,
" Again let charms divine thy strains inspire ,
" And Laura's voice shall aid the poet's lays. "
CHAPTER V.
The School for Scandal.
MR. Sheridan was now approaching the summit of his dramatic
fame ; — he had already produced the best opera in the language ,
and there now remained for him the glory of writing also the best
comedy. As this species of composition seems, more perhaps than
any olher, to require that knowledge of human nature and the world
which experience alone can give , it seems not a little extraordinary
that nearly all our first-rate comedies should have been the produc-
tions of very young men. Those of Congreve were all written be-
fore he was five-and-twenty. Farquhar produced the Constant Couple
in his two-and-twentieth year, and died at thirty. Vanbrugh was a
young ensign when he sketched out the Relapse and the Provoked
Wife ; and Sheridan crowned his reputation with the School for
Scandal at six-and-lwenly.
It is , perhaps , still more remarkable to find , as in the instance
before us , that works which , at this period of life , we might sup-
pose to have been the rapid offspring of a careless , but vigorous
fancy, — anticipating the results of experience by a sort of second-
sight inspiration, — should, on the contrary, have been the slow
result of many and doubtful experiments , gradually unfolding beau-
ties unforeseen even by him who produced them , and arriving at
length , step by step, at perfection. That such was the tardy process
by which the School for Scandal was produced , will appear from
the first sketches of its plan and dialogue , which I am here enabled
to lay before the reader, and which cannot fail to interest deeply all
those who take delight in tracing the alchemy of genius, and in
watching the first slow workings of the menstruum , out of which
its finest transmutations arise.
"Genius," says Buffon, "is Patience;" or (as another French
writer has explained his thought) — "La Patience cherche , et le
Genie trouve ; " and there is little doubt that to the co-operation of
Ihesc two powers all the brightest inventions of this world are owing ;
that Patience must first explore the depths where the pearl lies
hid , before Genius boldly dives and brings it up full into light. There
are , it is true , some striking exceptions to this rule ; and our own
limes have witnessed more than one extraordinary intellect, whose
depth has not prevented their treasures from lying ever ready within
ioo MEMOIRS
reach. But the records of Immortality furnish few such instances •
and all we know of the works that she has hitherto marked with her
seal, sufficiently authorise the general position, that nothing great
and durable has ever been produced with ease , and that Labour
is the parent of all the lasting wonders of this world , w hclher in
verse or stone , whether poetry or pyramids.
The first Sketch of the School for Scandal that occurs was writ-
ten , I am inclined to think , before the Rivals , or at least very soon
after it; — and that it was his original intention to satirise some of
the gossips of Bath appears from the title under which I find noted
down, as follows, the very first hints, probably, that suggested
themselves for the dialogue.
" TJIE SLANDERERS. — A Pump-Room Scene.
"Friendly caution to the newspapers.
"It is whispered
• " Sbe is a constant attendant at church, and very frequently takes
Dr. M'Brawn home with her.
"Mr. Worthy is very good to the girl; — for my part, I dare swear
lie has no ill intention-.
"What! Major Wesley's Miss Montague?
"Lud, ma'am, the match is certainly broke — no creature knows the
cause; — some say a flaw in the lady's character, and others, in the gentle-
men's fortune.
" To be sure thev do say- — -
"I bate to repeat what I hear.
" She was inclined to be a little too plump before she went.
"The most intrepid blush; — I've known her complexion stand fire for
an hour together.
" 'Sbe bad twins.' — How ill-natured ! as I hope to be saved, ma'am ,
she bad but one; and that a little starved brat not worth mentioning."
The following is the opening scene of his first Sketch , from which
it will be perceived that the original plot was wholly different from
what it is at present, — Sir Peter and Lady Teazle being at that time
not yet in existence.
"LADY SNEERWKLL and SPATTER."
"Lady S. The paragraphs, you say, were all inserted.
" Spat. They were, madam.
"Lady S. Did you circulate the report of Lady Brittle's intrigue with
Captain Boastall ?
"Spat. Madam, by this Lady Brittle is the talk of half the town ; and
in a week will be treated as a demirep.
"Lady S. What have you done as to the inucndo of Miss INiceley's
fondness for her own footman ?
"•Spat. 'Tis in a fair train, ma'am. 1 told it to my hair-dresser, — lie
OF R. B. SHERIDAN. 101
cqurts a milliner's girl in Pall Mall, whose mistress has a first cousin who
is waiting-woman to Lady Clackit. I think in ahout fourteen hours it
must reach Lady Clackit, and then you know the business is done.
'•'•Lady S. But is that sufficient, do you think ?
" Spat. O Lud, ma'am, I'll undertaketo ruin the character of the primest
I nude in London with half as much. Ha! ha! Did your ladyship never hear
how poor Miss Shepherd lost her lover and her character last summer at
Scarborough ? this was the whole of it. One evening at Lady — 's, the
conversation happened to turn on the difficulty of breeding Nova Scotia
sheep in England. 'I have known instances,' says Miss ,'for last
spring , a friend of mine, Miss Shepherd of Ramsgate , had a Nova Scotia
sheep that produced her twins.' — 'What!' cries the old deaf dowager
Lady Bowlwell, 'has Miss Shepherd of Ramsgate been brought to bed
of twins ?' This mistake, as you may suppose, set the company a-laugh-
ing. However, the next day, Miss Verjuice Amarilla Lonely, who had
been of the party, talking of Lady BowlweU's deafness, began to tell
what had happened; but, unluckily, forgetting to say a word of the
sheep, it was understood by the company, and, in every circle, many
believed, that Miss Shepherd of Ramsgate had actually been brought to
bed of a One boy and a girl; and, in less than a fortnight, there were
people who could name the father, and the farm-house where the babies
were put out to nurse.
^ Lady S. Ha! ha! well, for a stroke of luck, it was a very good
one. I suppose you find no difficulty in spreading the report on the cen-
sorious Miss ?
" Spat. None in the world,— she has always been so prudent and
reserved, that every body was sure there was some, reason for it at
bottom.
'•''Lady S. Yes , a tale of scandal is as fatal to the credit of a prude as
a fever to those of the strongest constitutions ; but there is a sort of sickly-
reputation that outlives hundreds of the robuster character of a prude.
" Spat. True, ma'am, there are valetudinarians in reputation as in
constitutions ; and both are cautious from their appreciation and con-
sciousness of their weak side , and avoid the least breath of air ' .
'•'•Lady S. But, Spatter, I have something of greater confidence now
to entrust you with. I think I have some claim to your gratitude.
" Spat. Have I ever shown myself one moment unconscious of what I
owe you ?
" Lady S. I do not charge you with it, but this is an affair of import-
ance. You are acquainted with my situation, but not all my weaknesses.
I was hurt, in the early part of my life, by the envenomed tongue of
scandal, and ever since, I own, have no joy but in sullying the fame of
others. In this I have found you an apt tool : you have often been the
instrument of my revenge, but you must now assist me in a softer pas-
sion. A young widow with a little beauty and easy fortune is seldom
1 This is one of the many instances, whpre the improving effect of revision
may be traced. The passage at present stands thus :— " There are valetudinarians
in repntation as well as constitution; who , heing conscious of their weak part ,
avoid the least breath of air, and supply the want of stamina by care and cir-
cumspection.
102 MEMOIRS
driven to sue, — yet is that my case. Of the many you have seen Here,
have you ever observed me , secretly, to favour one ?
'•'•Spat. Egad! I never was more posed : I'm sure you cannot mean
that ridiculous old knight , Sir Christopher Crab ?
'•'•Lady S. A wretch ! his assiduities are my torment.
" Spat. Perhaps his nephew, the baronet, Sir Benjamin Backbite, is
the happy man ?
" Lady S. No , though he has ill-nature and a good person on his
side , he is not to my taste. What think you of Clerimont ' ?
" Spat. How! the professed lover of your ward , Maria ; between whom,
too , there is a mutual affection.
'•'•Lady S. Yes, that insensible, that doater on an idiot, is the man.
" Spat. But how can you hope to succeed?
Lady S. By poisoning both with jealousy of the other, till the credul-
ous fool , in a pique, shall be entangled in my snare.
"Spat. Have you taken any measure for it?
"Lady S. I have. Maria has made me the confidente of Clerimont's
love for her : in return , I pretended to entrust her with my affection for
Sir Benjamin ; who is her warm admirer. By strong representation of my
passion , I prevailed on her not to refuse to see Sir Benjamin, which she
once promised Clerimont to do. I entreated her to plead my cause, and
even drew her in to answer Sir Benjamin's letters with the same intent.
Of this 1 have made Clerimont suspicious ; but 'tis you must inflame
him to the pitch I want.
" Spat. But will not Maria, on the least unkindness of Clerimont, in-
stantly come to an explanation ?
"Lady S. This is what we must prevent by blinding "**»**»»
The scene lhat follows , between Lady Sneerwell and Maria , gives
some insight into the use that was to be made of this intricate ground-
work a $ and it was , no doubt , the difficulty of managing such an
involvement of his personages dramatically, that drove him, luckily
for the world , to the construction of a simpler, and , at the same
lime, more comprehensive plan. He might also, possibly, have
been influenced by the consideration , lhat the chief movement of
this plot must depend upon the jealousy of the lover, — a spring of
interest which he had already brought sufficiently into play in the
Rivals.
" Lady Sneerwell. Well, my love, have you seen Clerimont to-day?
" Maria. I have not, nor does he come as often as he used. Indeed,
madam , I fear what I have done to serve you has by some means come to
1 Afterwards called Florival.
* The following is his own arrangement of the Scenes af the Second Act.
"Act. II. Scene 1st. All.— 2nd. Lady S. and Mrs. C.— 3d. Lady S. * * and Em.
and Mrs. C. listening. — 4th. L. S. and Flor. shows him into the room , — bids
him retnrn the other way. — L. S, and Emma. — Emma and Florival ; — fits, —
maid. — Emma fainting and sohhing: — 'Death, don't expose me!' — enter maid,
— will call out — all come in with raids and siuclliug-Lottles.''
OF R. B. SHERIDAN. 103
is knowledge, and injured nw; in his opinion. I promised him faithfully
never to see Sir Benjamin. What confidence can he ever have in me, if
he once finds I have broken my word to him?
" Lady S. Nay, you are too grave. If he should suspect any thing , it
will always he in my power to undeceive him.
"Mar. Well, you have involved me in deceit, and I must trust to
you to extricate me.
'''Lady S. Have you answered Sir Benjamin's last letter in the manner
I wished? I .
"Mar. I have written exactly as you desired me ; but I wish you would
give me leave to tell the whole truth to Clerimont at once. There is a
coldness in his manner of late, which I can no ways account for.
" Lady S. (aside) I'm glad to find I have worked on him so far; — fie,
Maria , have you so little regard for me ? would you put me to the shame
of heing known to love a man who disregards me ? Had you entrusted me
with such a secret , not a husband's power should have forced it from me.
But, do as you please. Go, forget the affection I have shown you : forget
that I have been as a mother to you, whom I found an orphan. Go,
break through all ties of gratitude, and expose me to the world's deri-
sion , to avoid one sullen hour from a moody lover.
'•'•Mar. Indeed, madam, you wrong me; and you who know the' ap-
prehension of love should make allowance for its weakness. My love for
Clerimout is so great —
'•'•Lady S. Peace ; it cannot exceed mine.
tlMar. For Sir Benjamin, perhaps not, ma'am -and, I am sure,
Clerimont has as sincere an affection for me.
** Lady S. Would to heaven I could say the same!
"Mar. Of Sir Benjamin : — I wish so too , ma'am. But I am sure you
would be extremely hurt, if, in gaining your wishes , you were to injure
me in the opinion of Clerimont.
"Lady S. Undoubtedly ; I would not for the world — Simple fool
(aside)] But my wishes, my happiness depend on you — for I doat so
on the insensible, that it kills me to see him so attached to you. Give
me but Clerimont , and
"Mar. Clerimont!
"Lady S. Sir Benjamin, you know, I mean. Is he not attached to
you? am I not slighted for you? Yet, do I bear any enmity to you, as
my rival? I only request your friendly intercession, and you are so un-
grateful , you would deny me that. -f( ^ •
"Mar. Nay, madam, have I not done every thing you wished? For
you , I have departed from truth , and contaminated my mind with
falsehood — what could I do more to serve you ?
"Lady S. Well, forgive me , I was too warm, I know you would not
betray me. I expect Sir Benjamin and his uncle this morning— why,
Maria, do you always leave our little parties?
"Mar. I own, madam, I have no pleasure in their conversation. I
have myself no gratification in uttering detraction , and therefore none
in hearing it.
"Lady S. Oh fie, you arc serious— ' tis only a little harmless raillery.
104 MEMOIRS
" Mar. I never can think that harmless which hurts the peace of youth,
draws tears from beauty, and gives many a pang to the innocent.
" Lady S. Nay, you must allow that many people of sense and'wit
have this foible — Sir Benjamin Backbite , for instance.
"Mar. He may, but I confess I never can perceive wit where I see
malice.
"Lady S. Fie , Maria , you have the most unpolished way of thinking!
It is absolutely impossible to be witty without being a little ill-natured.
The malice of a good thing is the barb that makes it stick. I protest now
when I say an ill-natured thing, I have not the least malice againt the
person ; and, indeed, it may be of one whom I never saw in my life ; for
I hate to abuse a friend — but I take it for granted , they all speak as ill-
naturedly of me.
"Mar. Then you are, very probably, conscious you deserve it— for
my part, I shall only suppose myself ill-spoken of when I am conscious
I deserve it.
Enter Servant.
"Ser. Mrs. Candour.
"Mar. Well, I'll leave you.
"Lady S. No, no , you have no reason to avoid her, she is good na-
ture itself.
"Mar. Yes , with an artful affectation of candour, she does more injury
than the worst backbiter of them all.
Enter MRS. CANDOUR.
"Mrs. Cand. So, Lady Sneerwell, how d'ye do? Maria , child, how
dost ? Well, who is't you are to marry at last ? Sir Benjamin or Clerimont.
The town talks of nothing else."
Through the remainder of this scene the only difference in the
speeches of Mrs. Candour is , that they abound more than at present
in ludicrous names and anecdotes , and occasionally straggle into
that loose wordiness , which , knowing how much it weakens the sap
of wit, the good taste of Sheridan was always sure to lop away. The
same may be said of the greater part of that scene of scandal , which
at present occurs in the second Act , and in which all that is now
spoken by Lady Teazle , was originally put into the mouths of Sir
Christopher Crab and others — the caustic remarks of Sir Peter Teazle
being , as well as himself, an after-creation.
It is chiefly, however, in Clerimont, the embryo of Charles Sur-
face , that we perceive how imperfect may be the first lineaments
that Time and Taste contrive to mould gradually into beauty. The
following is the scene that introduces him to the audience , and no
one ought to be disheartened by the failure of a first attempt after
reading it. The spiritless language — the awkward introduction of
the sister into the plot — the antiquated expedient ' of dropping the
1 This objection seems to have occurred to himself; for one of his inemoi.'iuduuu,
is — "Not to drop the letter, bat take it from the maid."
OF R. B. SHFRIDAN. 105
lelter — all, in short, is of the most undramatic and most unpro-
mising description , and as little like what it afterwards turned to as
the block is to the statue , or the grub to the butterfly.
" Sir B. This Clerimont is , to be sure, the drollest mortal ! he is one
of your moral fellows, who does unto others as he would they should do
unto him.
"Lady Sneer. Yet he is sometimes entertaining.
" Sir B. Oh hang him , no — he has too much good nature to say a
witty thing himself, and is too ill-natured to praise wit in others.
Enter CLERIMONT.
" Sir B. So , Clerimont — we were just wishing for you to enliven us
with your wit and agreeable vein.
" Cler. No, Sir Benjamin, I cannot join you.
" Sir B. Why, man, you look as grave as a young lover the first time
he is jilted.
*' Cler. I have some cause to be grave , Sir Benjamin. A word with you
all. I have just received a letter from the country, in which I understand
that my sister has suddenly left my uncle's house, and has not since been
heard of. :• \ .'.
'•'•Lady S. Indeed! and on what provocation?
'•''Cler. It seems they were urging her a little too hastily to marry
some country squire that was not to her taste.
" Sir B. Positively I love her for her spirit.
" Lady S. And so do I , and would protect her, if I knew where she
was.
" Cler. Sir Benjamin, a word with you — (takes him apart). — I think,
sir, we have lived for some years on what the world calls the footing of
friends.
" Sir B. To my great honour, sir. — Well , my dear friend?
" Cler. You know that you once paid your addresses to my sister. My
uncle disliked you ; but I have reason to think 3 6u were not indifferent
to her.
" Sir B. I believe you are pretty right there; but what follows?
" Cler. Then I think I have a right to expect an implicit answer from
you, whether you are in any respect privy to her elopement?
'•'•Sir B. Why, you certainly have a right to ask the question, and I
will answer you as sincerely — which is , that though I make no doubt
but that she would have gone with me to the world's end , I am at pre-
sent entirely ignorant of the whole affair. This I declare to you upon my
honour — and , what is more , I assure you my devotions are at present
paid to another lady — one of your acquaintance , too.
" Cler. (aside). Now , who can this other be whom he alludes to? — I
have sometimes thought I perceived a kind of mystery between him and
Maria — but I rely on her promise, though, of late, her conduct to me has
l>eeu strangely reserved.
" Lady S. Why, Clerimont, you seem quite thoughtful. Come with
us; we are going to kill an hour at ombre— your mistress will join us.
" Cler. Madam , I attend you.
106 MEMOIRS
"Lady S. ( Taking Sir B. aside). Sir Benjamin, I see Maria is now
coming to join us — do you detain her awhile , and 1 will contrive that
Clerimont should see you, and then drop this lelter. [Exeunt all but
Sir B.
Enter MARIA.
"Mar. I thought the company were here, and Clerimont —
" Sir JB. One , more your slave than Clerimont, is here.
"A/rtr. Dear Sir Benjamin, I thought you promised me to drop this
suhject. If 1 have really any power over you, you will oblige me —
"Sir B. Power over me ! What is there you could not command me
in ? Have you not wrought on me to proffer my love to Lady Sneerwell ?
Yet though you gain this from me, you will not give me the smallest,
token of gratitude.
Enter CLERIMONT behind.
"Mar. How can I believe your love sincere, when you continue still
to importune me ?
" Sir B. I ask but for your friendship, your esteem.
liMar. That you shall ever be entitled to — then I may depend upon
your honour ?
" Sir B. Eternally— dispose of my heart as you please.
'•'•Mar. Depend upon it I shall study nothing but its happiness. I need
not repeat my caution as to Clerimont?
" Sir B. No, no, he suspects nothing as yet.
"Mar. For, within these few days, I almost believed that he sus-
pects me.
" Sir B. Never fear, he does not love well enough to be quick sighted ;
for just now he taxed me with eloping with his sister.
"Mar. Well, we had now best join the company. [Exeunt.
" Cler. So , now — who can ever have faith in woman ? D— d deceitful
wanton ! why did she not fairly tell me that she was weary of my ad-
dresses? that woman, like her mind, was changed, and another fool
succeeded.
Enter LADY SNEERWELL.
" Lady S. Clerimont, why do you leave us? Think of my losing this
hand— (Cler. She has no heart.)-^-five mate — (Cler. Deceitful wanton!)
— spadille.
" Cler. Oh yes, ma'am — 'twas very hard.
'•'•Lady S. But you seem disturbed; and where are Maria and Sir
Benjamin ? I vow I shall be jealous of Sir Benjamin.
" Cler. I dare swear they are together very happy — but, Lady Sneer-
well — you may perhaps often have perceived tbat I am discontented with
Maria. I ask you to tell me sincerely— have you ever perceived it?
"Lady S. I wish you would excuse me.
" Cler. Nay, you have perceived it— I know you hate deceit." ¥
I have said that the other Sketch , in which Sir Peter and Lady
Teazle arc made the leading personages, was written subsequently to
lhat of which I have just given specimens. Of this, however, I cannot
OF R. B. SHERIDAN. 107
produce any positive proof. There is no date on the manuscripts,
nor any other certain clue , to assist in deciding the precedency of
time between them. In addition to this , the two plans are entirely
distinct,— Lady Sneerwell and her associates being as wholly ex-
cluded from the one , as Sir Peter and Lady Teazle are from the
other; so that it is difficult to say, with certainty, which existed
lirst, or at what time the happy thought occurred of blending all
mat was best in each into one.
The following are the Dramatis Person® of the second plan : —
Sir Rowland Harpur.
—Plausible.
Capt Harry Plausible.
Freeman.
Old Teazle ' . ( Left off trade . )
Mrs. Teazle.
Maria.
From this list of the personages we may conclude that the quar-
rels of Old Teazle and his wife, the attachment between Maria
and one of the Plausibles , and the intrigue of Mrs. Teazle with
the other, formed the sole materials of the piece, as then con-
structed 7. There is reason too to believe, from the following me-
morandum , which occurs in various shapes through these manu-
scripts , that the device of the screen was not yet thought of , and
that the discovery was to be effected in a very different manner —
" Making love to aunt and niece — meeting wrong in the dark— some
one coming — locks up the aunt, thinking it to be the niece."
I shall now give a scene or two from the Second Sketch — which
shows , perhaps , even more strikingly than the other, the volatil-
ising and condensing process which his wit must have gone through,
before it attained its present proof and flavour. • i*:
" ACT I.— SCENE I.
OLD TEAZLE , alone.
"In the year 44, I married iny first wife ; the wedding was at the end
1 The first intention was, as appears from his introductory speech, to give Old
Teazle the Christian name of Solomon. Sheridan was, indeed, most fastidiously
changeful in his names. The present Charles Surface was at first Clerimont , then
Florival, then Captain Harry Plausible, then Harry Pliant or Pliable, then
Young Harrier, and then Frank— while his elder brother was successively Plau-
sible, Pliable, Young Pliant, Tom , and , lastly, Joseph Surface. Trip was origin-
<<lly called Spnnge; the name of Snake was, in the earlier sketch, Spatter, and,
i-ven after the union of the two plots into one, all the business of the opening
scene with Lady Sneerwell, at present transacted by Snake, was given to a
character, afterwards wholly omitted, Misu Verjuice.
' This was most probably (he " two act Comedy," which ha announced to
Mr. I.inlcy as preparing for representation in 1776.
108 MEMOIRS
of the year— aye, 'twas in December; yet, before Ann. Dom. 45, I re-
peiited. A month before , we swore we preferred each other to the whole
world — perhaps we spoke truth; but when we came to promise to love
each other till death, there I am sure we lied. Well, Fortune owed me
a good turn ; in 48 she died. Ah , silly Solomon , in 5a I find thee mar-
ried again ! Here, too, is a catalogue of ills— Thomas, born Februaiy
12; Jane, born. Jan. 6; so they go 6n to the number of five. However,
by death I stand credited but by one. Well, Margery, rest her soul ! was
a queer creature ; when she was gone, I felt awkward at first, and being
sensible that wishes availed nothing , I often wished for her return. For
ten years more I kept my senses and lived single. Oh, blockhead, dolt
Solomon! within this twelvemonth thou art married again— married to
a woman thirty years younger than thyself ; a fashionable woman. Yet I
took her with caution; she had been educated in the country; but now
she has more extravagance than the daughter of an Earl, more levity than
a Countess. What a defect it is in our laws , that a man who has once
been branded in the forehead should be hanged for the second oll'euce.
Enter JAKVIS.
" Teaz. Who's there? Well, Jarvis?
"Jarv. Sir, there are a number of my mistress's tradesmen without,
clamorous for their money.
" Teaz. Are those their bills in your hand?
"Jaw. Something about a twentieth part, sir.
" Teaz. What ! have you expended the hundred pounds I gave you for
her use?
" Jarv. Long ago , sir, as you may judge by some of the items : — 'Paid
the coach-maker for lowering the front seat of the coach.'
" Teaz. What the deuce was the matter with the seat ?
" Jarv. Oh lord, the carriage was too low for her by a foot when she
was dressed— so that it must have been so , or have had a tub at top like
a hat-case on a travelling trunk. Well , sir (reads} ' Paid her two footmen
half a year's wages, 5o/.'
"Teaz. 'Sdeath and fury! does she give her footmen a hundred
a-year ?
'•'•Jarv. Yes, sir, and I think, indeed, she has rather made a good
bargain , for they find their own bags and bouquets.
" Teaz. Bags and bouquets for footmen ! — halters and bastinadoes ' !
" Jarv. ' Paid for my lady's own nosegays, 5o/.'
" Teaz. Fifty pounds for flowers ! enough to turn the Pantheon into a
green-house , and give a Fete Champetre at Christmas.
" * Lady Teaz. Lord , Sir Peter, I wonder you should grudge me the
most innocent articles in dress — and then, for the expense— flowers
cannot be cheaper in winter — you should find fault with the climate, and
not with me. I am sure I wish with all my heart, that it was Spring all
the year round , and that roses grew under one's feet.
1 Transferred afterwards to Trip and Sir Oliver.
3 We observe here a change in his plan, with respect both to the titles of Old
Teazle and his wife , and the presence of the latter during this scene , which was
evidently not at first intended.
From the following skeleton of the scenes of this piece, it would appear that
OF R. B. SHERIDAN. 109
" Sir P.' Nay> but, madam, then you would not wear them ; but try
snow-balls, and icicles. But tell me, madam, how can you feel any satis-
faction in wearing these , when you might reflect that one of the rose-
buds would have furnished a poor family with a dinner ?
" Lady T. Upon my word, Sir Peter , begging your pardon , that is
a very absurd way of arguing. By that rule , why do you indulge in the
least superfluity ? I dare swear a beggar might dine tolerably on your
great-coat, or sup oft' your laced waistcoat — nay, I dare say, he wouldn't
eat your gold-headed cane in a week. Indeed, if you would reserve no-
thing but necessaries , you should give the first poor man you meet your
wig , and walk the streets in your night-cap, which , you know, becomes
you very much.
" Sir P. Well , go on to the articles.
"Jarv. (Hearting). 'Fruit for my lady's monkey ,*5J. per week.'
" Sir P. Five pounds for the monkey ! Why 'tis a dessert for an al-
derman !
" Lady T. Why, Sir Peter, would you starve the poor animal ? I dare
swear he lives as reasonably as other monkeys do.
"&V P. Well, well, goon.
" Jarv. ' China for ditto .' —
" Sir P. What , does he eat out of china?
"Lady T. Repairing china that he breaks— and I am sure no monkey
breaks less.
11 Jarv- 'Paid Mr. Warren for perfumes— milk of roses, 3o/.'
"Lady T. Very reasonable.
" Sir P. 'Sdeath, madam , if you had been born to these expenses , I
should not have been so much amazed; but I took you, in.nl;nn , an ho-
nest country squire's daughter —
" Lady T. Oh, filthy; don't name it. Well , heaven forgive my mo-
ther, but I do believe my father must have been a man of quality.
" Sir P. Yes , madam , when first I saw you, you were drest in a pretty
figured linen gown , with a bunch of keys by your side ; your occupa-
tions , madam, to superintend the poultry; your accomplishments, a
complete knowledge of the family receipt-book — then you sat in a room
hung round with fruit in worsted of your own working; your amuse-
ments were to play country-dances on an old spinet to your father while
he went asleep after a fox-chase — to read Tillotson's sermons to your
aunt Deborah. These, madam, were your recreations , and these the
accomplishments that captivated me. Now, forsooth , you must have two
footmen to your chair, and a pair of white dogs in a phaeton ; you forget
( Inconsisteutly, in some degree, with my notion of its beirig the two act Comedy
announced in 1775) he had an idea of extending the plot through five acts.
"Act 1st, Scene 1st, Sir Peter and Steward— 2d, Sir P. and Lady— then Young
Pliable.
" Act 2d, Sir P. and Lady— Yonng Harrier— Sir P. and Sir Rowland, and Old
Jeremy— Sir R. and daughter — Y. P. and Y. H.
" Act 3d, Sir R., Sir P. and O. J.— 2d, Y. P. and Company, Y. R. O. R.— 3d ,
V H. and Maria — Y. H., O. R. and Young Harrier, to borrow.
" Act 4th, Y. P. and Maria , to borrow his money ; gets away what he had
received from bis uncle. — Y. P. Old Jer. and tradesmen.— P. and Lady T." etc. etc.
1 10 MEMOIRS
when you used to ride double behind the butler oa a docked bay coach-
horse Now you must have a French hair-dresser; do you
think you did not look as well when you had your hair combed smooth
over a roller ? Then you could be content to sit with me , or
walk by the side of the Ha! Ha !
"Lady T. True, I did; and when you asked me if I could love an
old fellow, who wonld deny me nothing, I simpered and said -'Till
death.'
" Sir P. Why did you say so ?
" Lady T. Shall I tell you the truth?
" Sir P. If it is not too great a favour.
" Lady T. Why, then, the truth is I was heartily tired of all these
agreeable recreations you have so well remembered, and having a spirit
to spend and enjoy fortune, I was determined to marry the Grst fool I
should meet with You made me a wife , for which I am much
obliged to you , and , if you have a wish to make me more grateful still,
make me a widow '." * *
" Sir P. Then , you never had a desire to please me, or add to my
happiness ?
'•'•Lady T. Sincerely, I never thought about you; did you imagine
that age was catching? I think you have been overpaid for all you could
liestow on me. Here am I surrounded by half a hundred lovers , not one
of whom but would buy a single smile by a thousand such baubles as you
grudge me.
" Sir P. Then you wish me dead ?
'•'•Lady T. You know I do not, for you have made no settlement
on mes
" Sir P. I am but middle-aged.
" Lady T. There's the misfortune ; put yourself on , or back , twenty
years, and either way I should like you the better.
Yes, sir, and then your behaviour top was different; you would dress,
and smile , and bow ; fly to fetch me any thing I wanted ; praise every
thing I did or said ; fatigue your stiff' face with an eternal grin ; nay,
you even committed poetry, and muffled your harsh tones into a lover's
whisper to singit yourself, so that even my mother said you were thesmart-
est old bachelor she ever saw — a billet-doux engrossed on buckram 2 !!!!!!
Let girls take my advice , and never marry an old bachelor. He must be
so either because he could find nothing to love in women, or because
women could find nothing to love in him."
The greater part of this dialogue is evidently experimental, and
the play of repartee protracted with no other view , than to take the
chance of a trump of wit or humour turning up.
.
1 The speeches which I have omitted consist merely of repetitions of the same
thoughts with but very little variation of the language.
* These notes of admiration are in the original, and seem meant to express the
surprise of the author at the extravagance of his own joke.
OFR. B. SHERIDAN. Ill
In comparing the two characters in this sketch with what they
are at present , it is impossible not to be struck by the signal change
that thej have undergone. The transformation of Sir Peter into a
gentleman has refined , without weakening , the ridicule of his
situation ; and there is an interest created by the respectability, and
amiableness of his sentiments , which , contrary to the effect pro-
duced in general by elderly gentlemen so circumstanced , makes us
rejoice , at the end , that he has his young wife all to himself. The
improvement in the character of Lady Teazle is still more marked
and successful. Instead of an ill-bred young shrew, whose readiness
to do wrong leaves the mind in but little uncertainty as to her fate ,
we have a lively and innocent , though imprudent country girl ,
transplanted into the midst of all that can bewilder and endanger
her, but with still enough of the purity of rural life about her heart,
to keep the blight of the world from settling upon it permanently.
There is , indeed , in the original draught a degree of glare and
coarseness , which proves the eye of the artist to have been fresh
from the study of Wycherley and Vanbrugh ; and this want of
delicacy is particularly observable in the subsequent scene between
Lady Teazle and Surface — the chastening down of which to its
present tone is not the least of those triumphs of taste and skill ,
which every step in the eloboration of this fine Comedy exhibits.
" Scene ' — YOUNG PLIANT'S Room.
" Young P. I wonder her ladyship is not here : she promised me to
call this morning. I have a hard game to play here , to pursue my designs
on Maria. I have brought myself into a scrape with the mother-in-law.
However, I think we have taken care to ruin my brother's character
with my uncle, should he come to-morrow. Frank has not an ill quality
in his nature ; yet, a neglect of forms, and of the opinion of the world ,
has hurt him in the estimation of all his graver friends. I have profited by
his errors , and contrived to gain a character, which now serves me as a
mask to lie under.
" Enter LADY TEAZLE.
*' Lady T. What, musing, or thinking of me ?
" Young P. I was thinking unkindly of you; do you know now that
you must repay me for this delay, or I must be coaxed into good humour ?
*' Lady T. Nay, in faith you should pity me — this old curmudgeon of
late is grown so jealous , that I dare scarce go out , till I know he is se-
cure for some time.
" Young P. I am afraid the insinuations we have had spread about
Frank have operated too strongly on him — we meant only to direct his
suspicions to a wrong object.
' The Third of the fourth Act in the present form of the Comedy. This scene
underwent many changes afterwards , and was oftener pnt hack into the crucible
than any other part of the play. .»•:>
112 MEMOIRS
" Lady T. Oh , hang him ! I have told him plainly that if he conti-
nues to be so suspicious , I'll leave him entirely, and make him allow me
a separate maintenance.
" Young P. But , my charmer , if ever that should be the case , you see
before you the man who will ever he attached to you. — But you must not
let nutters come to extremities; you can never be revenged so well by
leaving him, as by living with him, and let my sincere affection make
amends for his brutality.
" Lady T. But how shall I be sure now that you are sincere ? I have
sometimes suspected , that you loved my niece ' .
" Young P. Oh , hang her , a puling idiot , without sense or spirit.
" Lady T. But what proofs have I of your love to me, for I have still
so much of my country prejudices left, that if I were to do a foolish
thing (and I think I can't promise ) , it shall be for a man who would risk
every thing for me alone. How shall I be sure you love me ?
" Young P. I have dreamed of you every night this week past.
" Lady T. That's a sign you have slept every night for this week past;
for my part , I would not give a pin for a lower who could not wake for a
month in absence-
" Young P. I have written verses on you out of number.
" Lady T. I never saw any.
" Young P. No — they did not please me , and so I tore them.
" Lady T. Then it seems you wrote them only to divert yourself.
" Young P. Am I doomed for ever to suspense ?
"Lady T. I don't know — if I was convinced
" Young P. Then let me on my knees
" Lady T. Nay , nay, I will have no raptures either. This much I can
tell you , that if I am to be seduced to do wrong , I am not to be taken by
storm , but by deliberate capitulation , and that only where my reason or
my heart is convinced.
" Young P. Then , to say it at once — the world gives itself liberties —
" Lady T. Nay, I am sure without cause; for I am as yet unconscious
of any ill , though I know not what I may be forced to.
" Young P. The fact is , my dear Lady Teazle, that your extreme in-
nocence is the very cause of your danger ; it is the integrity of your heart
that makes you run into a thousand imprudences , which a full conscious-
ness of error would make you guard against. Now , in that case , you can't
conceive how much more circumspect you would be.
" Lady T. Do you think so ?
" Young P. Most certainly. Your character is like a person in a ple-
thora, absolutely dying of too much health.
" Lady T. So then you would have me sin in my own defence , and
part with my virtue to preserve my reputation a.
" Young P. Exactly so , upon my credit , ma'am."
1 He had not yet decided whether to make Maria the daughter-in-law or niece
of Lady Teazle.
1 This sentence seems to have hannted him— I find it written in every direction,
and without any material change in its form, over the pages of his different me-
morandum- books .
OF R. B. SHERIDAN. in
It will be observed, from all I have cited, that much of the ori-
ginal material is still preserved throughout; but that, like the ivory
melting in the hands of Pygmalion, it has lost all its first rigidity
and roughness, and, assuming at every touch some variety of aspect,
seems to have gained new grace by every change.
" Mollescit eburf posituque rigore
Subsidit digitii, , ceditque ut Hymetiia sole
Cera remollescit, tractataque pollice multas
Flectitur in Jades , ipsoquejit utilis usu."
Where'er his fingers move, his eye can trace
The once rude ivory softening into grace —
Pliant as wax that , on Hymettus" hill ,
Melts in the sunbeam, it obeys his skill ;
At every touch some different aspect shows ,
And still, the oftener touch'd, the lovelier grows.
1 need not , I think , apologise for the length of the extracts I
have given , as they cannot be otherwise than interesting to all
lovers of literary history. To trace even the mechanism of an au-
thor's slyle through the erasures and alterations of his rough copy,
is, in itself, no ordinary gratification of curiosity ; and the brouillon
of Rousseau's Heloise , in the library of the Chamber of Deputies
at Paris , affords a study in which more than the mere " auceps syl-
labarum" might delight. But it is still more interesting to follow
Ihus the course of a writer's thoughts — to watch the kindling of
new fancies as he goes — to accompany him in his change of plans ,
and see the various vistas that open upon him at every step. It is ,
indeed , like being admitted by some magical power, to witness the
mysterious processe»of the natural world — to see the crystal form-
ing by degrees round its primitive nucleus , or observe the slow
ripening of
" the imperfect ore,
" And know it will be gold another day! "
In respect of mere style, too, the workmanship of so pure a
writer of English as Sheridan is well worth the attention of all who
would learn the difficult art of combining ease with polish , and
being , at the same time, idiomatic and elegant. There is not a page
of these manuscripts that does not bear testimony to the fastidious
care with which he selected, arranged , and moulded his language ,
so as to form it into that transparent channel of his thoughts, which
it is at present.
His chief objects in correcting were to condense and simplify —
to get rid of all unnecessary phrases and epithets , and , in short , (<>
>lrip away from the thyrsus of his wit every leaf that could render
it loss light and portable. One instance out of hiany will show the
fli MEMOIRS
improving effect of Ihese operations '. The following is the original
form of a speech of Sir Peter's : —
" People, who utter a tale of scandal, knowing it to be forged , de-
serve the pillory more than for a forged bank-note. They can't pass the lie
without putting their names on the back of it. You say no person has a
right to come on 3 on because you didn't invent it ; but you should know
that, if the drawer of the lie is out of the way, the injured party has a
right to come on any of the indorsers."
When this is compared with the form in which the same thought
is put at present , it will be perceived how much the wit has gained
in lightness and effect by the change : —
" Mrs. -Candour. But sure yon would not be quite so severe on those
\vho only report what they hear ?
" Sir P. Yes , madam , 1 would have Law-merchant for them too, and
in all cases of slander currency % whenever the drawer of the lie was
not to be found, the injured party should have a right to come on any of
the indorsers."
Another great source of the felicities of his style, and to which he
attended most anxiously in revision , was the choice of epithets ; in
which he has the happy art of making these accessary words not
only minister to the clearness of his meaning, but bring out new
effects in his wit by the collateral lights which they strike upon it —
and even where the principal idea has but little significance , he
contrives to enliven it into point by thc'quaintness or contrast of his
epithets.
Among the many rejected scraps of dialogue that lie about , like
the chippings of a Phidias, in this work-shop of wit , there are some
precious enough to be preserved, at least, as relics. For instance,
— " She is one of those , who convey a libel in a frown , and wink
a reputation down/1 The following touch of costume , too, in Sir
Peter's description of the ruslic dress of Lady Teazle before he
married her : — " You forget when a little wire and gauze , with a
few beads, made you a fly-cap not much bigger than a blue-bottle."
The specimen which Sir Benjamin Backbite gives of his poetical
talents was taken , it will be seen , from the following verses, which
1 In. one or- two sentences he has left a degree of stiffness in the style, not so
much from inadvertence, as from the sacrifice of ease to point. Thus, in the follow
ing example , he has been tempted by an antithesis into an inversion of phrase l>y
no means idiomatic. "The plain state of the matter is this — I am an extravagant
vonng fellow who want money to borrow ; you I take to he a prudent old fellow,
who have got money to lend."
In the Collection of his Works this phrase is given differently — hut without
authority from any of the manuscript copies.
3 There is another siiuik- among his memorandums of the same mercantile
kind : — "A sort of broker in scandal, who transfers lies without fees."
OF ft. B. SHERIDATN. 116
I find in Mr. Sheridan's hand-writing—one of those trifles, per-
haps , with which he and is friend Tickell were in the constant
habit of amusing themselves , and written apparently with the in-
tention of ridiculing some woman of fashion.
" Then , behind , all my hair is done up in a plat ,
And so , like a cornet's , tuck'd under my hat.
Then I mount on my palfrey as gay as a lark,
And, follow'd by John , take the dust ' in High Park.
In the way I am met by some smart macaroni ,
Who rides by my side on a little bay pony —
No sturdy Hibernian , with shoulders so wide ,
Ihit as taper and slim as the ponies they ride j
Their legs are as slim , and their shoulders no wider,
Dear sweet little creatures , both pony and rider!
Bat sometimes , when hotter, I order my chaise ,
And manage, myself, my two little greys.
Sure never were seen two such sweet little ponies ,
Oilier horses are clowns, and these macaronies ,
And to give them this title, I'm sure isn't wrong ,
Their legs are so slim , and their tails are so long.
In Kensington Gardens* to stroll up and down,
You know was the fashion before you left town , —
The thing's well enough , when allowance is made
For the size of the trees and the depth of the shade ,
But the spread of their leaves such a shelter affords
To those noisy, impertinent creatures called birds ,
"Whose ridiculous chirruping ruins the scene ,
Brings the country before me , and gives me the spleen.
Yet, tho' 'tis too rural — to come near the mark,
We all herd in one walk , and that , nearest the Park ,
There with ease we may see , as we pass by the wicket,
The chimneys of Kmghtsbridge and — footmen at cricket ,
I must tho', in justice, declare that the grass,
Which , worn by our feet, is diminished apace,
In a little time more will be brown and as flat
As the sand at Vauxhall or as Ranelagh mat.
Improving thus fast, perhaps, by degrees ,
We may see rolls and butter spread under the trees ,
With a small pretty band in each seat of the walk ,
To play little tunes and enliven our talk."
Though Mr. Sheridan appears to have made more easy progress ,
after he had .incorporated his two first plots into one, yet, even in
the details of the new plan , considerable alterations were subse-
quently made — whole scenes suppressed or transposed, and the
dialogue of some entirely re-written. In the third Act, for instance,
as it originally stood , there was a long scene , in which Rowley,
1 This phrase is made use of in the dialogue :—" As Lady Betty Curricle wan
faking the dust in Hyde Park."
,,G MEMOIRS
by a minute examination of Snake , drew from him , in the pre-
sence of Sir OliTer and Sir Peter, a full confession of his designs
against the reputation of Lady Teazle. Nothing could be more ill-
placed and heavy ; it was accordingly cancelled , and the confession
of Snake postponed to its natural situation, the conclusion. The
scene, too, where Sir Oliver, as Old Stanley, comes to ask pecuniary
aid of Joseph, was at first wholly different from what it is at present ;
and in some parts approached much nearer to the confines of
caricature than the watchful taste of Mr. Sheridan would permit.
For example , Joseph is represented in it as giving the old suitor
only half-a-guinea , which the latter indignantly returns, and leaves
him ; upon which Joseph , looking at the half-guinea , exclaims ,
•"• Well , let him starve — this will do for the opera."
It was the fate of Mr. Sheridan , through life , — and , in a great
degree , perhaps his policy ,— to gain credit for excessive indolence
and carlessness, while few persons, with so much natural brilliancy
of talents , ever employed more art and circumspection in their dis-
play. This was the case, remarkably, in the instance before us.
Notwithstanding the labour which he bestowed upon this comedy ,
(or we should rather, perhaps, say in consequence of that labour,)
the first representation of the piece was announced before the whole
of the copy was in the hands of the actors. The manuscript, indeedT
of the five last scenes bears evident marks of this haste in finishing ,
— there being but one rough draught of them, scribbled upon de-
tached pieces of paper-, while, of all the preceding acts, there are
numerous scripts , scattered promiscuously through six or seven
books, with new interlineations and memorandums to each. On the
last leaf of all , which exists just as we may suppose it to have been
despatched by him to the copyist , there is the following curious
specimen of doxology , written hastily , in the hand-writing of the
respective parties , at the bottom : —
"Finished at last, Thank God !
" R. B. SHERIDAN."
" Amen!
" W.HOPKINS" '.
The cast of the play, on the first night of representation (May 8,
1777) , was as follows :—
Sir Peter Teazle. . Mr. Xing.
Sir Oliver Surface. . . Mr. Fates.
Joseph Surface. . . . Mr. Palmer.
Charles. . . . .Mr. Smith.
Crabtree. ... . Mr. Parson f,
' The Prompter.
OF R. B. SHERIDAN. 117
Sir Benjamin Backbite. . . Mr. Dodd.
Rowley Mr. Aickin.
Moses. Mr. Baddelcy.
Trip Mr. Lamash.
Snake Mr. Packer.
Careless. . - .'' . . . Mr. Farren
Sir Harry Bumper. .... Mr. Gawdry.
Lady Teazle. . .... Mrs. Abington.
Maria Miss P. Hopkins.
Lady Sneenvell Miss Sherry.
Mrs. Candour. . *'-..• t. . Miss Pope.
The success of such a play, so acted, could not be doubtful.
Long after its first uninterrupted run , it continued to be played re-
gularly two or three times a-week ; and a comparison of the receipts
of the first twelve nights , with those of a later period , will show
how little the attraction of the piece had abated by repetition : —
May 8th, 1777. L. s. d.
School for Scandal .... 225 9 o
Ditto 195 6 o
Ditto A. B. (Author's night) j5 10 o (Expenses)
Ditto 257 46
Ditto . a43 oo
Ditto A. B. ...... a3 10 o
Committee , . 65 66
School for Scandal. . . . 262 19 6
Ditto 263 i3 6
Ditto A. B 73 10 o
Ditto K.( the King). ... 272 96
Ditto. 247 i5 o
Ditto. . . , , . . ,. . 255 14 o
* •
The following extracts are taken at hazard from ah account of the
weekly receipts of the Theatre , for the year 1778 , kept with exem-
plary neatness and care^by Mrs. Sheridan herself1 :-<•
January, 1778. L. s. d.
3d. Twelfth JNigbt. . . Queen Mab. . . 1% 14 6 .
5th. Macbeth Queen Mab. . . 212 19 o
6th. Tempest Queen Mab. . . 107 i5 6
7th. School for Scandal. . Comus. . . . 292 16 o
8th. School for Fathers. . Queen Mab. . . 181 10 6
9th. School for Scandal. . Padlock. ... 281 60
March
1 4th. School for Scandal. . Deserter. . . . a65 18 6
1 6th. Venice Preserved. . Belphegor (New). i^5 3 6
1 7th. Hamlet Belphegor. . . 160 19 o
i gth. School for Scandal. . Befphegor. . . 261 10 o
' It appears from a letter of Holcrofl to Mrs. Sheridan, (given in hi» Mcrooin ,
118 MEMOIRS
Such , indeed , was the predominant attraction of this comedy
during the two years subsequent to its first appearance, that, in the
official account of receipts for 1779, we flnd the following remark
subjoined by the Treasurer : — " School for Scandal damped the new
pieces." I have traced it by the same unequivocal marks of success
through the years 1780 and 1781 , and find the nights of its repre-
sentation always rivalling those on which the King went to the
theatre , in the magnitude of their receipts.
The following note from Garrick ' to the author, dated May 12
(four days after the first appearance of the comedy), will be read with
interest by all those for whom the great names of the drama have
any charm : —
" MR. GARRICR'S best wishes and compliments to Mr. Sheridan.
" How is the Saint to-day ? A gentleman who is as mad as myself about
ye School remark'd , that the characters upon the stage at y" falling of
the screen stand too long before they speak;— I thought so too ye first
night : — he said it was the same on yc 2nd , and was remark'd by others ;
— tho' they should be astonish'd, and a little petrify'd , yet it may be
carry'd to too great a length. — All praise at Lord Lucan's last night."
The beauties of (his comedy are so universally known and felt ,
that criticism may be spared the trouble of dwelling upon them
very minutely. With but little interest in the plot , with no very
profound or ingenious development of character , and with a group
of personages , not one of whom has any legitimate claims upon
either our affection or esteem , it yet , by the admirable skill with
which its materials are managed , — the happy contrivance of the
situations , at once both natural and striking , — the fine feeling of
the ridiculous that smiles throughout, and that perpetual play of wit
which never tires, but seems, like running water, to be kept fresh
by its own flow , — by all this general animation and effect, combined
with a finish of the details, almost faultless ^ it unites the suffrages,
at once , of the refined and the simple , and is not less successful
in ministering to the natural enjoyment of the latter , than in sa-
tisfying and delighting the most fastidious tastes among the former.
And this is the true triumph of genius in all the arts, — whether in
vol. i. p. 275.) that she was also in the hahit of reading for Sheridan the new
pieces sent in by dramatic candidates: — " Mrs. Crewe (he says) has spoken to
Mr. Sheridan concerning it ( the Shepherdess of the Alps) as he informed me last
night, desiring me at the same time to send it to you, who, he said, would not
only read it yourself, bnt remind him of it."
1 Mnrphy tells us, that Mr. Garrick attended the rehearsals, and "was never
known on any former occasion to be- more anxious for a favourite piece. He was
prond of the new manager; and in a triumphant manner boasted of the genius to
whom he had consigned the conduct of the theatre.'' — Life uj Garrick.
01 11. B. SHERIDAN. 11!>
painting, sculpture, music, or literature, those works which have
pleased the greatest number of people of all classes , for the longest
space of lime, may without hesitation be pronounced the best •, and ,
however mediocrity may enshrine itself in the admiration of the
select few , the palm of excellence can only be awarded by the many.
The defects of The School for Scandal , if they can be allowed
lo amount to defects , are , in a great measure , traceable to that
amalgamation of two distinct plots ,. out of which , as I have already
shown , the piece was formed. From this cause, — like an accumu-
lation of wealth from the union of two rich families , — has devolved
that excessive opulence of wit, walh which, as some critics think,
the dialogue is overloaded ; and which , Mr. Sheridan himself used
often to mention, as a fault of which he was conscious in his work.
That he had no such scruple, however, in writing it, appears evident
from the pains which he took to string upon his new plot every
bright thought and fancy which he had brought together for the
two others $ and it is not a little curious , in turning over his ma-
nuscript , to see how the outstanding jokes are kept in recollection
upon the margin , till he can find some opportunity of funding them
to advantage in the text. The consequence of all this is, that the
dialogue , from beginning to end , is a continued sparkling of polish
and point : and the whole of the Dramatis Personae might be com-
prised under one common designation of Wits, Even Trip , the
servant , is as pointed and shining as the rest , and has his master's
wit, as he has his birth-day clothes, u with the gloss on *." The
only personage among them that shows any 'Hemperance in jesting,"
is old Rowley •, and he , too , in the original , had his share in the
general largess of bons mots, — one of the liveliest in the piece 2 being
at first given to him , though afterwards transferred, with somewhat
more fitness , to Sir Oliver. In short , the entire Comedy is a sort of
El-Dorado of wit , where the precious metal is thrown about by all
classes , as carelessly as if they had not the least idea of its value.
Another blemish that hypercriticism has noticed , and which may
likewise be traced to the original conformation of the play , is the
uselcssncss of some of the characters to the action or business of it
— almost the whole of the " Scandalous College " being but, as it
were, excrescences, through which none of the life-blood of the
plot circulates. The cause of this is evident :— Sir Benjamin Backbite,
1 This la one of the phrases that seein to have perplexed the taste of Sheridan *
and upon so minute a point, as, whether it should be " with the gloss on," or,
" \\itli the gloss on them." After various trials of it in hotli ways, he decided, as
might be expected from his love of idiom , for the former.
1 The answer to the remark, that " charity hrgius at home," — " a ad his, I
jnesuiiie, is of that domestic soil which ne\ei stirs abroad at all."
130 MEMOIRS
in the first plot to which he belonged , was a principal personage ;
but , being transplanted from thence into one with which he has no
connection, not only he, but his uncle Crabtree, and Mrs. Candour,
though contributing abundantly to the animation of the dialogue ,
have hardly any thing to do with the advancement of the story ; and,
like the accessories in a Greek drama, are but as a sort of Chorus of
Scandal throughout. That this defect, or rather peculiarity , should
have been observed at first , when criticism was freshly on the watch
for food , is easily conceivable ; and I have been told by a friend ,
who was in the pit on the first night of performance , that a person ,
who sat near him , said impatiently , during the famous scene at Lady
Sneerwell's, in the Second Act , — " I wish these people would have
done talking, and let the play begin."
It has of ten been remarked as singular, that the lovers, Charles and
Maria, should never be -brought in presence of each other till the
last scene ; and Mr. Sheridan used to say , that he was aware , in
writing the Comedy , of the apparent want of dramatic management
w hich such an omission would betray ; but that neither of the ac-
tors , for whom he had destined those characters , was such as he
could safely trust with a love-scene. There might , perhaps , too ,
have been , in addition to this motive , a little consciousness , on his
own part , of not being exactly in his element in that tender style of
writing , which such a scene , to make it worthy of the rest , would
have required •, and of which the specimens left us in the serious
parts of The Rivals are certainly not among his most felicitous ef-
forts.
By some critics the incident of the screen has been censured, as
a contrivance unworthy of the dignity of comedy.1 But in real life,
of which comedy must condescend to be the copy , events of far
greater importance are brought about by accidents as trivial ; and
in a world like ours , where the falling of an apple has led to the
discovery of the laws of gravitation , it is surely too fastidious to
deny to the dramatist the discovery of an intrigue by the falling of
a screen. There is another objection as to the manner of employing
this machine , which , though less grave , is perhaps less easily
answered. Joseph , at the commencement of the scene , desires his
servant to draw the screen before the window , because " his oppo-
site neighbour is a maiden lady of so anxious a temper ;" yet, after-
wards , by placing Lady Teazle between the screen and the window,
1 " In the old comedy, the catastrophe is occasioned, in general, by a change
in the mind of some principal character, artfnlly prepared and cautiously conduct-
ed;— in the modern, the unfolding of the plot is effected by the overturning of a
screen, the opening of a door, or some other equally dignified machine." — GIFFORD,
Essay on the Writing! of Massinger;
OF R. B. SHERIDAN. I? I
he enables this inquisitive lady to indulge her curiosity at leisure.
It might be said , indeed , that Joseph , with the alternative of ex-
posure to either the husband or neighbour, chooses the lesser evil •,
— but the oversight hardly requires a defence.
From the trifling nature of these objections to the dramatic merits
of the School for Scandal, it will be seen that, like the criticism of
Momus on the creaking of Venus's shoes , they only show how per-
fect must be the work in which no greater faults can 'be found. But
a more serious charge has been brought against it on the score of
morality , and the gay charm thrown around the irregularities of
Charles is pronounced to be dangerous to the interest of honesty and
virtue. There is no doubt that in- this character only the fairer side
of libertinism is presented , — that the merits of being in debt are
rather too fondly insisted upon , and with a grace and spirit that
might seduce even creditors into admiration. It was , indeed, play-
fully said , that no tradesman who applauded Charles could possibly
have the face to dun the author afterwards. In looking , however, to
the race of rakes that had previously held possession of the stage ,
we cannot help considering our release from the contagion of so
much coarseness and selfishness to be worth even the increased risk
of seduction that may have succeeded to it ; and the remark of Burke,
however questionable in strict ethics , is , at least , true on the stage ,
— that " vice loses half its evil by losing all its grossness."
It should be recollected, too , that, in other respects , the author
applies the lash of moral satire very successfully. That group of
slanderers who , like the Chorus of the Eumenides , go searching
about for their prey with " eyes that drop poison ," represent a class
of persons in society who richly deserve such ridicule, and who — •
like their prototypes in jEschylus trembling before the shafts of
Apollo— are here made to feel the full force of the archery of wit.
It is indeed a proof of the effect and use of such satire, that the
name of " Mrs. Candour" has become one of those formidable bye-
words, which have more power in putting folly and ill-nature out
of countenance , than whole volumes of the wisest remonstrance and
reasoning.
The poetical justice exercised upon the Tartuffe of sentiment,
Joseph , is another service to the cause of morals , which should
more than atone for any dangerous embellishment of wrong that
the portraiture of the younger brother may exhibit. Indeed , though
both these characters are such as the moralist must visit with his
censure , there can be little doubt to which we should , in real life,
give the preference 5 — the levities and errors of the one , arising
from warmth of heart and of youth , may be merely like those mists
that exhale from summer streams , obscuring them awhile to the
122 MEMOIRS
eye , without affecting the native purity of their waters ; while the
hypocrisy of the other is like the mirage of the desert , shining
with promise on the surface , but all false and barren beneath.
In a late work , professing to be the Memoirs of Mr. Sheridan ,
there are some wise doubts expressed as to his being really the author
of the School for Scandal , to which , except for the purpose of ex-
posing absurdity, I should not have thought it worth while to al-
lude. It is an old trick of Detraction , — and one, of which it never
tires , — to father the works of eminent writers upon others ; or , at
least , while it kindly leaves an author the credit of his worst per-
formances, to find some one in the back-ground to ease him of the
fame of his best. When this sort of charge is brought against a
conlemporary, the motive is intelligible ; but, such an abstract plea-
sure have some persons in merely unsettling the crowns of Fame ,
that a worthy German has written an elaborate book to pwve, that the
Iliad was written , not by that particular Homer the world supposes ,
but by someone/- Homer! Indeed, if mankind were to be influenced
by those Qui temerities, who have, from lime to lime, in the course of
the history of literature, exhibited informations of plagiarism against
great authors , the property of fame would pass from its present
holders into the hands of persons with whom the world is but little
acquainted. Aristotle must refund to one Ocellus Lucanus — Virgil
must make a ccssio bonorum in favour of Pisander — the Meta-
morphoses of Ovid must be credited to the account of Parthenius of
Nicaea , and (to come to a modern instance) Mr. Sheridan must ,
according to his biographer , Dr. Watkins , surrender the glory of
having written the School for Scandal to a certain anonymous young
lady , who died of a consumption in Thames Street !
To pass , however , to less hardy assailants of the originality of this
comedy, — it is said that the characters of Joseph and Charles were sug-
gested by those of Blifil and Tom Jones; that the accident of the arrival
of Sir Oliver from India is copied from that of the return of Warner
in Sidney Biddulph; and that the hint of the famous scandal scene at
Lady Sneerwell's is borrowed from a comedy of Moliere.
Mr. Shendan , it is true , like all men of genius , had , in addition
to the resources of his own wit, a quick apprehension of what suited
his purpose in the wit of others , and a power of enriching whatever
he adopted from them with such new grace , as gave him a sort of
claim of paternity over it, and made it all his own. "C'cst mon
bien," said Moliere, when accused of borrowing, " et je le reprends
partout oii je le trouve;" and next, indeed, to creation, the re-
production , in a new and more perfect form , of materials already
existing, or the full development of thoughts that had but half
blown in the hands of others, are the noblest miracles tor which we.
OF R. B. SHERIDAN. 153
look lo Ihc hand of genius. It is not my intention therefore to
defend Mr. Sheridan from this kind of plagiarism , of which he was
guilty in common with the rest of his fellow-descendants from
Prometheus , who all steal the spark wherever they can find it. But
the instances , just alleged , of his obligations to others , are too
questionable and trivial to be taken into any serious account. Con-
trasts of character, such as Charles and Joseph exhibit , are as com-
mon as the lights and shadows of a landscape, and belong neither
to Fielding or Sheridan , but to nature. It is in the manner of trans-
ferring them to the canvas that the whole difference between the
master and the copyist lies; and Charles and Joseph 'would, no
doubt , have been what they are , if Tom Jones had never existed.
With respect to the hint supposed to be taken from the novel 6T
his mother, he at least had a right to consider any aid from that
quarter as " son bien " — talent being the only patrimony to which
he had succeeded. But the use made of the return of a relation in
the play is wholly different from that to which the same incident is
applied in the novel. Besides, in those golden times of Indian delin-
quency, the arrival of a wealthy relative from the East was no very
unobvious ingredient in a story.
The imitation of Moliere (if, as I take for granted, the Misan-
thrope be the play, in which the origin of the famous scandal scene
is said lo be found ) is equally faint and remote , and , except in the
common point of scandal , untraceable. Nothing , indeed , can be
more unlike than the manner in which the two scenes are managed.
Celimene , in Moljere , bears the whole/raw of the conversation 5
and this female La Bruyere's tedious and solitary dissections of cha-
racter would be as little borne on the English stage , as the quick
and dazzling movement of so many lancets of wit as operate in the
School for Scandal would be tolerated on that of the French.
It is frequently said that Mr. Sheridan was a good deal indebted
to Wycherley $ and he himself gave , in some degree , a colour to
the charge , by the suspicious impatience which he betrayed when-
ever any allusion was made lo it. He went so far, indeed, it is said,
as to deny having ever read a line of Wycherley ( though of Van-
brugh's dialogue he always spoke with the warmest admiration) ; —
and this assertion , as well as some others equally remarkable , such
as , thai he never saw Garrick on the stage , that he never had
seen a play throughout in his life , however strange and startling
they may appear, are , at least , too curious and characteristic not
to be put upon record. His acquaintance with Wycherley was pos-
sibly but at second-hand, and confined, perhaps, lo Garrick's
.illcrulinn of the Country Wife, in which the incident, already
mentioned as having been borrowed for the Duenna , is preserved.
124 MEMOIRS
There is, however, a scene in the Plain Dealer (Act. II.), where
Nevil and Olivia attack the characters of the persons with whom
Nevil had dined , of which it is difficult to believe that Mr. Sheri-
dan was ignorant ; as it seems to contain much of that Hyle , or
First Matter , out of which his own more perfect creations were
formed.
In Congreve's Double Dealer , loo , ( Act. III. Scene 10. ) there
is much which may, at least , have mixed itself with the recollec-
tions of Sheridan , and influenced the course of his fancy — it being
often found that the images with which the memory is furnished ,
like those pictures hung up before the eyes of pregnant women at
Sparta , produce insensibly a likeness to themselves in the offspring
which the imagination brings forth. The admirable drollery in Con-
greve about Lady Froth's verses on her coachman —
"For as the snn shines every day,
So of our Coachmau I may say" —
is by no means unlikely to have suggested the doggerel of Sir Ben-
jamin Backbite-, and the scandalous conversation in this scene,
though far inferior in delicacy and ingenuity to that of Sheridan ,
has somewhat , as the reader will see , of a parental resemblance to
it :—
" Lord Froth. Hee, hee, my dear; have you done? Won't you join
with us? We were laughing at my Lady Whifler and Mr. Sneer.
" Lady F. Ay, my dear, were you? Oh filthy Mr. Sneer! he is a
nauseous figure, a most fulsamick fop. He spent two days together in
going ahout Covent-Garden to suit the lining of his coach with his com-
plexion.
" Ld. F. Oh , silly ! yet his aunt is as fond of him , as if she had brought
the ape into the world herself.
" Brink. Who ? my lady Toothless? Oh, she is a mortifying spectacle ;
she's always chewing the cud like an old ewe.
" Ld. F. Then she's always ready to laugh , when Sneer offers to
speak ; and sits in expectation of his no jest> with her gums bare, and
her mouth open —
" Brisk. Like, an oyster at low ebb, egad— ha, ha, ha!
" Cynthia. (Aside.} Well, I find there are no fools so inconsiderable
themselves, but they can render other people contemptible by exposing
their infirmities.
'•'•Lady. F. Then that t'other great strapping Lady— I can't hit oil
her name ; the old fat fool, that paints so exorbitantly.
" Brisk. I know whom you mean — but, deuce take her, I can't hit off
her name either— paints, d'ye say ? Why she lays it on with a Iron el.
Then she has a great beard that bristles through it, and makes her look
as if she was plaistercd with lime and hair, let me perish."
It would be a task not uninteresting , to enter into a detailed
OF R. B. SHERIDAN. 1?;,
comparison of the characteristics and merits of Mr. Sheridan , as u
dramatic writer, with those of the other great masters of the art ;
and to consider how far they differed or agreed with each other, in
the structure of their plots and management of their dialogue — in
the mode of laying the train of their repartee, or pointing the ar-
lillery of their wit. But I have already devoted to this part of my
subject a much ampler space , than to some of my readers will ap-
pear either necessary or agreeable- — though by others, more in-
terested in such topics, my diffuseness will, I trust, be readily
pardoned. In tracking Mr. Sheridan through his two distinct careers
of literature and of politics , it is on the highest point of his eleva-
tion in each that the eye naturally rests ; and the School for Scandal
in one , and the Begum speeches in the other, are the two grand
heights — the " summa biverticis umbra Parmassi" — from which
he will stand out to after times , and round which , therefore , his
biographer may be excused for lingering with most fondness and
delay.
It appears singular that , during the life of Mr. Sheridan , no
authorized or correct edition of this play should have been published
in England. He had, at one time, disposed of the copyright to
Mr. Ridgway of Piccadilly, but , after repeated applications from
the latter for the manuscript, he was told by Mr. Sheridan, as an
excuse for keeping it back , that he had been nineteen years endea-
vouring to satisfy himself with the style of the School for Scandal ,
but had not yet succeeded. Mr. Ridgway, upon this , ceased to give
him any further trouble on the subject.
The edition printed in Dublin is, with the exception of a few
unimportant omissions and verbal differences , perfectly correct.
It appears that, after the success of the comedy in London, he
presented a copy of it to his eldest sister, Mrs. Lefanu , to be dis-
posed of, for her own advantage r to the manager of the Dublin
Theatre. The sum of a hundred guineas, and free admissions for
her family, were the terms upon which Ryder, the manager at that
period , purchased from this lady the right of acting the play ; and
it was from the copy thus procured that the edition afterwards pub-
lished in Dublin was printed. I have collated this edition with the
copy given by Mr. Sheridan to Lady Crewe (the last, I believe , ever
revised by himself) ' and find it, with the few exceptions already
mentioned , correct throughout.
1 Among the corrections in this copy (which are in his own hand -writing, ami
lint few iu number), there is one which shows not only the reteutiveness of hi»
memory, bnt the minute attention which he paid to the structure of his sentences.
Lady Teazle, in her scene with Sir Peter in the Second Act, says, "That's very
true, indeed, Sir Peter; and after having married you, I should never pretend U»
12C MEMOIRS
The School for Scandal has been translated into most of the
languages of Europe, and, among the French particularly, has
undergone a variety of metamorphoses. A translation, undertaken,
it appears , with the permission of Sheridan himself, was published
in London, in the year 1789, by a Monsr. Bunell Dclille , who , in
a Dedication to "Milord Macdonald ," gives the following account
of the origin of his task : " Vous savez , Milord , de quelle maniere
mysterieuse cette piece , qui n'a jamais etc imprim6e que furtive-
ment, se trouva Fet6 dernier sur ma table, en manuscrit in-folio ;
ct , si vous daignez vous le rappeler , apres vous avoir fait part de
Taventure , je courus chez Monsieur Sheridan pour lui demander
la permission," etc. etc.
The scenes of the Auction and the Screen were introduced , for
the first time , I believe , on the French stage , in a little piece called
"Zes Deux Neveiix" acted in the year 1788, by the young
comedians of the Comte de Beaujolais. Since then , the story has
been reproduced under various shapes and names : — " Les Por-
traits de Famille," " Yalsain et Florville," and, at the Theatre
Francais, under the title of the " Tartuffe de Mo3urs." Lately, too,
the taste for the subject has revived. The Vaudeville has founded
upon it a successful piece, called "Lcs Deux Cousins;'1 and there
is even a melodrame at the Porte St. Martin, entitled "L'Ecole
du Scandale. "
CHAPTER VI.
Further Purchase of Theatrical property. — Monody to the Memory of
Gar-rick. — Essay on metre. — The Critic. — Essay on Absentees. — Poli-
tical Conneclions. — The " Englishman."— Elected for Stafford.
THE document in Mr. Sheridan's hand-writing, already men-
tioned, from which I have stated the sums paid in 1776 by him,
Dr. Ford , and Mr. Linley, for Garrick's moiety of the Drury-Lane
Theatre, thus mentions the new purchase, by which he extended
his interest in this property in the year 1778 : — "Mr. Sheridan
afterwards was obliged to buy Mr. Lacy's moiety at a price ex-
ceeding 45,000/. : this was in the year 1778." — He then adds —
what it may be as well to cite , while I have the paper before me ,
though relating to subsequent changes in the property: — "In
order to enable Mr. S. to complete this purpose , he afterwards
taste again, I allow." It was thus that the passage stood at first in Lady Crewc's
copy, — as it does still, too, in the Dnhlin edition , and in that given in ihe Col-
lection of his Works: — bat in his final revision of this copy, the original reading
of the sentence , snch as I find it in all his earlier mannscript of the play, is res-
tored :—" That's very true, indeed, Sir Peter: and, after having married yon, I
am sure I should never pretend to ta tc again."
OF R. B. SHERIDAN. 137
consented to divide his original share between Dr. Ford and
Mr. Linlcy, so as to make up each of theirs a quarter. But the
price at which they purchased from Mr. Sheridan was not at the
rale which he bought from Lacy, though at an advance on the
1 trice paid to Garrick. Mr. S. has since purchased Dr. Ford's quarter
lor the sum of 17,0007. , subject to the increased incumbrance of the
additional renters."
By what spell an these thousands were conjured up, it would be
difficult accurately to ascertain. That happy art — in which the
people of this country are such adepts — of putting the future in
pawn for the supply of the present, must have been the chief re-
source of Mr. Sheridan in all these later purchases.
Among the visible signs of his increased influence in the affairs
of the theatre , was the appointment , this year, of his father to be
manager; — a reconciliation having taken place between them,
which was facilitated, no doubt, by the brightening prospects of the
son, and by the generous confidence which his prosperity gave him
in making the first advances towards such a reunion.
One of the novelties of the year was a musical entertainment
called The Camp , which was falsely attributed to Mr. Sheridan at
the time, and has since been inconsiderately admitted into the
Collection of his Works. This unworthy trifle ( as appears from a
rough copy of it in my possession) was the production of Tickell ,
and the patience with which his friend submitted to the imputation
of having written it was a sort of " martyrdom of fame " which few
but himself could afford.
At the beginning of the year 1779 Garrick died, and Sheridan ,
as chief mourner, followed him to the grave. He also wrote a
Monody to his memory, which was delivered by Mrs. Yates , after
the play of the West Indian , in the month of March following.
During the interment of Garrick in Poets' Corner, Mr. Burke had
remarked that the statue of Shakspeare seemed to point to the grave
where the great actor of his works was laid. This hint did not fall
idly on the ear of Sheridan, as the tottovting fixation of the thought,
in the verses which he afterwards wrote, proved : —
41 The throng that mourn'd , as their dead favourite pass'd ,
The grac'd respect that claim'd him to the last;
While Shak.'pcnrc's image, from its hallow'd base .
Seem'd to prescribe the grave and point the place."
This Monody, which was the longest flight ever sustained by
i?s author .in verse, is more remarkable, perhaps, for refinement
and elegance , than for cither novelty of thought or depth of sen-
timent. There is , however, a fine burst of poetical eloquence in
1 28 MEMOIRS
llic lines beginning "Superior hopes the poet's bosom fire;1' and
this passage, accordingly, as being the best in the poem, was, by
the gossiping critics of the day, attributed to Tickell,— from the
same laudable motives that had induced them to attribute Tickets
bad farce to Sheridan. There is no end to the variety of these small
missiles of malice , with which the Gullivers of the world of litera-
ture are assailed by the Lilliputians around them.
The chief thought which pervades this poem, — namely, the
fleeting nature of the actor's art and fame , — had already been more
simply expressed by Garrick himself in his Prologue to The Clan-
destine Marriage : —
" The painter's dead, yet still he charms the eye,
While England lives, his fame can never die ;
But he, who struts his hour upon the stage .
Can scarce protract his fame through half an age;
Nor pen nor pencil can the actor save;
The art and artist hare one common grave."
Colley Cibber, too , in his portrait (if I remember right) of Bet-
ferton, breaks off into the same reflection, in the following graceful
passage , which is one of those instances , where prose could not be
exchanged fqr poetry without loss < — " Pity it is that the momentary
beauties, flowing from an harmonious elocution, cannot, like those
of poetry, be their own record ; that the animated graces of the
player can live no longer than the instant breath and motion that
presents them , or, at best , can but faintly glimmer through the
memory of a few surviving spectators."
With respect to the style and versification of the Monody, the
heroic couplet in which it is written has long been a sort of Ulysses'
bow , at which Poetry tries her suitors , and at which they almost
all fail. Redundancy of epithet and monotony of cadence are the
inseparable companions of this metre in ordinary hands ; nor could
all the taste and skill of Sheridan keep it wholly free from these
defects in his own. To the subject of metre , he had , nevertheless ,
paid great attention. There are among his papers some fragments
of an Essay ' which he had commenced on the nature of poetical
* Or rather memorandums collected, as was his custom, with a view to the
composition of sach an Essay. He had been reading the writings of Dr. Foster,
Webb, etc. on this subject, with the intention, apparently, of publishing an
answer to them. The following ( which is one of the few consecutive passages I
can find in these notes) will show how little reverence he entertained for that
ancient prosody, upon which, in the system of English education, so large and
precious a portion of human life is wasted : — " I never desire a stronger proof
that an author is on a wrong scent on these subjects , than to see Quintiliau ,
Aristotle, etc. qnoted on a point where they have not the least business. All poetry
is made by the ear. which must be the sole judge — it is a sort of musical rhythm-
OF R. B. SHERIDAN. 129
accent and emphasis ; and the adaptation of his verses to the airs in
the Duenna — even allowing for the aid which he received from
Mrs. Sheridan — shows a degree of musical feeling , from which a
much greater variety of cadence might be expected , than we find
throughout the versification of this poern. The taste of the lime,
however, jsvas not prepared for any great variation in the music of
the couplet. The regular foot-fall, established so long, had yet been
but little disturbed ; and the only licence of this kind hazarded
through the poem — " All perishable" — was objected toby some of
the author's critical friends , who suggested , that it would be belter
thus : " All doom'd to perish."
Whatever, in more important points , may be the inferiority of
the present school of poetry to that which preceded it , in the music
of versification there can be but little doubt of its improvement ; nor
has criticism , perhaps , ever rendered a greater service to the art ,
than in helping to unseal the ears of its worshippers to that true
spheric harmony of the elders of song, which, during a long
period of our literature , was as unheard as if it never existed.
ns. If then we want to reduce oar practical harmony to rales, every man, with
a knowledge ofhisown language and a good ear, is at once competent to the nnder-
taking. Let him trace it to music — if he has no knowledge, let him inqnire.
"We have lost all notion of the ancient accent; — we have lost their pronun-
ciation; — all puzzling about it is ridiculous, and trying to find out the melody
of onr own verse by theirs is still worse. We shoold have had all our own metres,
if we nev<r had heard a word of their language, — this I affirm. Every nation
finds out for itself a national melody; and we may say of it, as of religion, no
place has been discovered without music. A people, likewise, as their language
improves, will introduce a music into their poetry, which is simply (that is to
say, the numerical part of poetry, which must be distinguished from (he imagin-
ary) the transferring the time of melody into speaking. What then have the
Greeks or Romans to do with our umsic? It is plain that onr admiration of their
verse is mere pedantry, because we could not adopt it. Sir Philip Sidney failed. If
it had been melody we should have had it; our language is just as well calculated
for it.
"It is astonishing that the excessive ridiculousness of a Gradns or Prosodial
Dictionary has never struck onr scholars. The idea of looking into a book to see
whether the sound of a syllable be short or long, is absolutely as ranch a bull of
Pceotian pedantry as ever disgraced Ireland." He then adds, with reference to
some mistakes which Dr. Foster had appeared to him to have committed in his
accentuation of English words: — "\Vhat strange effects has this system brought
about! It has so corrupted the ear that absolutely our scholars cannot tell an
English long syllable from a short one. If a boy were to make the a in " cano" or
"amo" long, Dr. Foster would no doubt feel his ear hurt, and yet * * *."
Of the style in which some of his observations are committed to paper, the follow-
ing is a curious specimen: — " Dr. Foster says that short syllables, when infl.ited
with that emphasis which the sense demands, swell in height, length and breadth
beyond their natural size. — The devil they do ! Here is a most omnipotent power
in emphasis. Quantity and accent may iu vain toil to produce a little effect, but
emphasis comes at once and monopolizes the power of them both."
9
130 MEMOIRS
The Monody does not seem to have kept the stage more than five
or six nights : — nor is this surprising. The recitation of a long ,
serious address must always be , to a certain degree , ineffective on
the stage ; and though this subject contained within it many strong
sources of interest , as well personal as dramatic , they were not ,
perhaps , turned lo account by the poet with sufficient warmth and
earnestness on his own part , to excite a very ready response of
sympathy in others. Feeling never wanders into generalities — it is
only by concentrating his rays upon one point that even Genius can
kindle strong emotion ; and , in order to produce any such effect in
the present instance upon the audience , Garrick himself ought to
have been kept prominently and individually before their eyes in
almost every line. Instead of this, however, the man is soon foi;-
gotten in his Art , which is then deliberately compared with other
Arls , and the attention , through the greater part of the poem , is
diffused over the transitoriness of actors in general , instead of being
brought strongly to a focus upon the particular loss just sustained.
Even in those parts , which apply most directly to Garrick , the
feeling is a good deal diluted by this tendency lo the abstract; and ,
sometimes, by a false taste of personification , like that in the very
first line, —
" If dyiug excellence deserves a tear,"
where the substitution of a quality of the man for the man himself '
puts the mind , as it were , one remove farther from the substantial
object of its interest, and disturbs that sense of reality, on which the
operations even of Fancy itself ought to be founded.
But it is very easy to play the critic— so easy as to be a task of but
little glory. For one person who could produce such a poem as
this , how many thousands exist and have existed , who could shine
in the exposition of its faults ? Though insufficient , perhaps , in
itself, to create a reputation for an author, yet, as a " Stella Co-
ronas"— one of the stars in that various crown , which marks the
place of Sheridan in the firmament of Fame , — it not only well sus-
tains its own part in the lustre , but draws new light from the host
of brilliancy around it.
It was in the course of this same year that he produced the
entertainment of the Critic — his last legitimate offering on the
shrine of the Dramatic Muse. In this admirable farce we have a
1 Another instance of this fault occars in his song " \VHien sable night : "
" As some fond mother, o'er her babe deploring ,
Wakes its beauty with a tear ; "
where the clearness and reality of the picture are spoiled by the affectation of re-
presenting the benuty of the child as waked, instead of the child itself.
OF R. B. SHERIDAN. ,31
striking instance of that privilege which , as I have already said ,
Genius assumes, of taking up subjects that had passed through
other hands, and giving them a new value and currency by his
stamp. The plan of a Rehearsal was first adopted, for the purpose
of ridiculing Dryden , by the Duke of Buckingham ; but , though
there is much laughable humour in some of the dialogue between
Hayes and his friends , the salt of the satire altogether was not of a
very conservative nature , and the piece continued to be served up
to the public long after it had lost its relish. Fielding tried the same
plan in a variety of pieces — in his Pasquin, his Historical Register,
his Author's Farce, his Eurydice, etc., — but without much success,
except in the comedy of Pasquin , which had , I believe , at first a
prosperous career, though it has since , except with the few that
still read it for its fine tone of pleasantry, fallen into oblivion. It
was reserved for Sheridan to give vitality to this form of dramatic
humour, and ta invest even his satirical portraits — as in the in-
stance of Sir Fretful Plagiary , which , it is well known , was
designed for Cumberland— with a generic character, which , with-
out weakening the particular resemblance , makes them representa-
tives for ever of the whole class to which the original belonged.
Bayes , on the contrary, i.s a caricature — made up of little more
than personal peculiarities, which may amuse as long as reference
can be had to the prototype , but like those supplemental features
furnished from the living subject by Taliacotius , fall lifeless the
moment the individual that supplied them is defunct.
It is evident , however, that Bayes was not forgotten in the com-
position of The Critic. His speech , where the two Kings of Brent-
ford are singing in the clouds, may be considered as the exemplar
which Sheridan had before him in writing some of the rehearsal-
scenes of Puff : —
" Smith. Well , but methinks the sense of this song is not very plain.
" Hayes. Plain! w,hy did you ever hear any people in the clouds sing
plain? They must be aU for flight of fancy at its fullest range, without
the least check or controul upon it. When once you tie up spirits and
people in clouds to speak plain, you spoil all."
There are particular instances of imitation still more direct. Thus,
in The Critic: —
" Enter SIR WALTER RALEIGH and SIR CHRISTOPHER HATTON.
" Sir Christ. H. True, gallant Raleigh —
" Dangle. What, they had been talking before?
" Puff. Oh yes, all the way as they came along.
In the same manner in The Rehearsal, where the Physician aru|
Usher of the two Kings enter :— r
M2 MEMOIRS
" Phys. Sir, to conclude —
" Smith. What, before he hegins?
" Bayes. No , Sir ; you must know they had been talking of this a pretty
\vhile without.
" Smith. Where? in the tyring room?
"Baye.i. Why, ay, Sir. He's so dull."
Bayes, at the opening of the Fifth Act, says, " Now, gentle-
men, I will be bold to say, I'll show you the greatest scene that
England ever saw ; I mean not for words , for those I don't value ,
but for state, show, and magnificence." Puff announces his grand
scene in much the same manner : — "Now then for my magnifi-
cence ! my battle ! my noise ! and my procession ! "
In Fielding, too, we find numerous hints or germs, that have
come to. their full growth of wit in the Critic. For instance, in
Trapwit (a character in " Pasquin") there are the rudiments of
Sir Fretful as well as of Puff : —
" Sneerwell. Yes, faith, -I think I would cut that last speech.
" Trapwit. Sir, I'll sooner cut off an ear or two; Sir, that's the very
best thing in the whole play. ********
Trapwit. Now, Mr. Sneerwell, we shall begin my third and last act;
and I believe I may defy all the poets who have ever writ, or ever will
write , to produce its equal : it is, Sir, so cranim'd with drums and trum-
pets, thunder and lightning, battles and ghosts, that I believe the au-
dience will want no entertainment after it."
The manager, Marplay, in " The Author's Farce," like him of
Drury-Lane in the Critic , " does the town the honour of writing
himself; " and the following incident in " The Historical Register"
suggested possibly the humorous scene of Lord Burleigh : —
" Enter Four Patriots from different Doors , who meet in the centre
and shake Hands.
" Sour-wit. These patriots seem to equal your greatest politicians in
their silence.
" Medley. Sir, what they think now cannot MipH be spoke; but you
may conjecture a good deal from their shakingtheir heads."
Such coincidences , whether accidental or designed , are at least
curious , and the following is another of somewhat a different kind :
— " Steal! (says Sir Fretful) to be sure they may; and egad, serve
your best thoughts as gipsies do stolen children, disfigure them, to
make 'em pass for their own V Churchill has the same idea in
nearly the same language :—
1 This simile was again made use of by him in a speech upon Mr. Pitt's India
Bill, which he declared lo be "nothing more than a bad plagiarism on Mr. Fox's,
disfigured, indeed, as gipsies do stolen children, in order to make them pass for
iheir own.''
OF R. B SHERIDAN 133
• Still pilfers wretched plans <ind makes them worse,
Like gipsies, lest the stolen brat be known,
Defacing first , then claiming for their own."
The character of Puff, as I have already shown, was our au-
thor's first dramatic attempt -, and , having left it unfinished in the
porch as he entered the Temple of Comedy, he now, we see , made
it worthy of being his farewell oblation in quitting it. Like Eve's
flowers , it was his
" Early visitation , and his last."
We must not, however, forget a lively Epilogue which he wrote
this year, for Miss Hannah More's tragedy of Fatal Falsehood , in
which there is a description of a blue-stocking lady , executed with
all his happiest point. Of this dense, epigrammatic style , in which
every line is a cartridge of wit in itself , Sheridan was , both in prose
and verse , a consummate master ; and if any one could hope to
succeed, after Pope, in a Mock Epic, founded upon fashionable
life, it would have been, we should think, the writer of this
epilogue. There are some verses, written on the "Immortelle
Emilie " of Voltaire , in which her employments , as a savante and
a woman of the world , are thus contrasted : —
*' Tout lui plait, tout convient a son vaste genie,
Les livres, les bijoux , les compos, les pompons,
Les vers , les diamans , les biribis , I'optique ,
L'algebre , les soupers , le latin , les jupons ,
L'opera, lesproces, le bal et la physique."
How powerfully has Sheridan, in bringing out the same con-
trasts , shown the difference between the raw material of a thought ,
and the fine fabric as it comes from the hands of a workman : —
" What motley cares Corilla's mind perplex ,
Whom maids and metaphors conspire to vex!
In studious deshabille behold her sit ,
A letter'd gossip and a housewife wit :
At once invoking , though for different views,
Her gods , her cook, her milliner, and muse.
Round her strew'd room a frippery chaos lies,
A chequer'd wreck of notable and wise.
Bills , books , caps , couplets , combs , a varied mass ,
Oppress the toilet and obscure the glass ;
IJnliiiisli'd here an epigram is laid ,
And there a mantua-maker's bill unpaid.
There new-born plays foretaste the town's applause ,
There dormant patterns pine for future gauze.
A Moral essay now is all her care,
A satire next , and then a bill of fare.
A scene she now projects , and imw a dish ,
flere Act the First , and here ' Remove with Fish,'
13* MEMOIRS
Now , while this eye iu a fine freuzy rolls ,
That soberly casts up a bill for coals 5
Black pins and daggers in one leaf she sticks,
And tears , and thre'ads , and bowls , and thimbles mix."
We must now prepare to follow the subject of this Memoir into a
field of display, altogether different, where he was in turn to become
an actor before the public himself, and where, instead of inditing
lively speeches for others , he was to deliver the dictates of his elo-
quence and wit from his own lips. However the lovers of the drama
may lament this diversion of his talents and doubt whether even
the chance of another School for Scandal were not worth more than
all his subsequent career, yet to the individual himself, full of
ambition and conscious of versatility of powers , such an opening
into a new course of action and fame, must have been like one of
those sudden turnings of the road in a beautiful country, which
dazzle the eyes of the traveller with new glories, and invite him on
to untried paths of fertility and sunshine.
It has been before remarked how early, in a majority of instances,
the dramatic talent has come to its fullest maturity. Mr. Sheridan
would possibly never have exceeded what he had already done , and
his celebrity had now reached that point of elevation , where , by a
sort of optical deception in the atmosphere of fame, to remain
stationary is to seem , in the eyes of the spectators , to fall. He had ,
indeed, enjoyed only the triumph of talent, and without even
descending to those ovations , or minor triumphs , which in general
are little more than celebrations of escape from defeat , and to which
they who surpass all but themselves, are often capriciously reduced.
It is questionable, too, whether, in any other walk of literature,
he would have sustained the high reputation which he acquired by
the dftfma. Tory rarely have dramatic writers, even of the first
rank , exhibited powers of equal rate , when out of the precincts of
their own art •, while , on the other hand , poets of a more general
range , whether epic , lyric , or satiric , have as rarely succeeded on
the stage. There is, indeed, hardly one of our celebrated dramatic
authors (and the remark might be extended to other countries) who
has left works worthy of his reputation in any other line; and
Mr. Sheridan, perhaps, might Only have been saved from adding
to the list of failures , by such a degree of prudence or of indolence
as would have prevented him from making the attempt. He may,
therefore , be said to have closed his account with literature , when
not only the glory of his past successes , but the hopes of all that he
might yet have achieved, were set down fully and without any
risk of forfeiture , to his credit $ and , instead of being left , like
Alexander, to sigh for new worlds to vanquish , no sooner were his
OF R. B. SHERIDAN. 135
triumphs in one sphere of action complete , than another opened to
invite him to new conquests.
We have already seen that Politics, from the very commencement
of his career, had held divided empire with Literature in the tastes
and studies of Mr. Sheridan; and, even in his fullest enjoyment of
the smiles of the Comic Muse, while he stood without a rival in her
affections, the "Musa severior" of politics was estranging the
constancy of his —
" Te tenet, absentee alios suspirat amores*
" Ev'n while perfection lies within his arms,
He strays in thought, and sighs for other charms."
Among his manuscripts there are some sheets of an Essay on
Absentees , which , from the allusions it contains to the measures
Ihen in contemplation for Ireland , must have been written , I ra-
ther think, about the year 1778 — when the School for Scandal was
in its first career of success , and the Critic preparing , at no very
long interval, to partake its triumph. It is obvious, from some ex-
pressions used in this pamphlet, that his intention was, if not to
publish it in Ireland , at least to give it the appearance of having
been written there — and, except the pure unmixed motive of ren-
dering a service to his country, by the discussion of a subject so
closely connected with her interests , it is difficult to conceive what
inducement he could have had to select at that moment such a topic
for his pen. The plain, unpretending style of the greater part of the
composition sufficiently proves that literary display was not the ob-
ject of it ; while the absence of all criminatory matter against the
government precludes the idea of its having originated in party zeal.
As it is curious to observe how soberly his genius could yoke it-
self to grave matter of fact , after the winged excursions in which it
had been indulging , I shall here lay some paragraphs of this pam-
phlet before the reader.
In describing the effects of the prevailing system of pasturage —
one of the evils attributed by him to Absentees — he thus , with occa-
sional irradiations of eloquence and ingenuity, expresses himself: —
" Now it must ever he the interest of the Absentee to place his state in
tho hands of as few tenants as pSssible, by which means there will be less
difficulty or hazard in collecting his rents, and less intrusted to an agent,
if bis rstate require one. The easiest method of effecting this is by laying
the land out for pasturage , and letting it in gross to tbose who deal only
iu ' a fatal living crop ' — whose produce we are not allowed a market
for when manufactured, while we want art , honesty and encouragement
to fit it for home consumption. Thus the indolent extravagance of the
lord becomes subservient to the interest of a few mercenary graziers —
shepherds of most unpastoral principles -while the veteran husbandman
136 MEMOIRS
may lean on the shattered, unused plough, and view himself surrounded
with flocks that furnish raiment without food. Or, if his honesty be not
proof against the hard assaults of penury, he may he led to revenge him-
self on these dumb innovators of his little Geld— then learn too late that
some portion of the soil is reserved for a crop more fatal even than that
which tempted and destroyed him.
" Without duelling on the particular ill effects of non-residence in this
case, I shall conclude with representing that principal and supreme pre-
rogative which the Absentee foregoes — the prerogative of mercy, of cha-
rity. The estated resident is invested with a kind of relieving providence —
a power to heal the wounds of undeserved misfortune — to break the blows
of adverse fortune , and leave chance no power to undo the hopes of ho-
nest, persevering industry. There cannot surely be a more-happy station
than that wherein prosperity and worldly interest are to be best forwarded
by an exertion of the most endearing offices of humanity. This is his situa-
tion who lives on the soil which furnishes him with means to live It is his
interest to watch the devastation of the storm, the ravage of the flood —
to mark the pernicious extremes of the elements, and by a judicious in-
dulgence and assistance, to convert the sorrows and repinings of the suf-
ferer into blessings on his humanity- By such a conduct he saves his people
from the sin of unrighteous murmurs, and makes Heaven his debtor for
their resignation.
"It will be said that the residing in another kingdom will never erase
from humane minds the duty and attention which they owe to those
whom they have left to cultivate their demesnes. I will not say that ab-
sence lessens their humanity, or that the superior dissipation which they
enjoy in it contracts their feelings to coarser enjoyments — without this,
we know that agents and stewards are seldom intrusted with full powers
of aiding and remitting. In some, compassion would be injustice. They
are, in general, content with the virtue of justice and punctuality towards
their employer ; part of which they conceive to be a rigorous exaction of
his rents, and, where difficulty occurs , their process is simply to distrain
and to eject — a rigour that must ever be prejudicial to an estate, and
which, practised frequently, betrays either an original negligence, or
want of judgment in choosing tenants, or au extreme inhumanity towards
their incidental miscarriages.
"But, granting an undiminished benevolence to exist on the part both
of the landlord and the agent , yet can we expect any great exertion of
pathetic eloquence to proceed from the latter to palliate any deficiency
of the tenants?— or, if there were, do we not know how much lighter an
impression is made by distresses related to us than by those which are
' oculix subjecla fidelibus?"" The heart, $he seat of charity and compas-
sion , is more accessible to the senses than the understanding. Many, who
would be unmoved by any address to the latter, would melt into charity
at the eloquent persuasion of silent sorrow. When he sees the widow's
tear, and hears the orphan's sigh, every one will act with a sudden uni-
form rectitude , because he acts from the divine impulse of ' free love dealt
equally to all.' "
The blind selfishness of those commercial laws which England so
OF R. B. SHERIDAN. 137
long imposed upon Ireland , — like ligatures to check Ihe circulation
of the empire's life-blood, — is thus adverted to :
" Though I have mentioned the decay of trade in Ireland as insufficient
to occasion the great increase of emigration, yet is it to be considered as
an important ill effect, arising from the same cause. It may be said that
trade is now in higher repute in Ireland, and that the exports and im-
ports (which are always supposed the test of it) are daily increasing. This
may be admitted to be true , yet cannot it be said that the trade of the
kingdom flourishes. The trade of a kingdom should increase in exact pro-
portion to its luxuries, and those of the nations connected with it. There-
fore it is no argument to say, that, on examining the accounts of customs
fifty years back, they appear to be trebled now; for England, by some
sudden stroke, might lose such a proportion of its trade, as would ruin
it as a commercial nation, yet the amount of what remained might be
tenfold of what it enjoyed in the reign of Queen Elizabeth. Trade , pro-
perly speaking, is the commutations of the product of each country —
this extends itself to the exchange of commodities in which art has fixed
a price. Where a nation hath free power to export the works of its indus-
try, the balance in such articles will certainly be in its favour. Thus, had
we in Ireland power to export our manufactured silks, stuffs, and wool-
lens , we should be assured that it would be bur interest to import and
cultivate their materials. But, as this is not the case, the gain of indivi-
duals is no proof that the nation is benefited by such commerce. For in-
stance, the exportation of unwrought wool may be very advantageous to
the dealer, and, through his hands, bring money, or a beneficial return
of commodities into the kingdom ; — but trace the ill effects of depopula-
ting such tracts of land as are necessary for the support of flocks to supply
this branch, and number those who are deprived of supports and employ-
ment by it , and so become a dead weight on the community— we shall
find that the nation in fact will be the poorer for this apparent advan-
tage. This would be remedied were we allowed to export it manufactured;
because the husbandman might get his bread as a manufacturer.
*« Another principal cause that the trade may increase, without propor-
tionally benefiting the nation, is that a great part of the stock which car-
ries on the foreign trade of Ireland belongs to those who reside out of
the country — thus the ultimate and material profits on it are' withdrawn
to another kingdom. It is likewise to be observed, that, though the ex-
portations may appear to exceed the importations , yet may this in part
arise from the accounts of the former being of a more certain nature, and
those of the latter very conjectural , and always falling short of the fact."
Though Mr. Sheridan afterwards opposed a Union with Ireland,
the train of reasoning which he pursued in this pamphlet naturally
led him to look forward to such an arrangement between the two
countries , as , perhaps , the only chance of solving the long-existing
problem of their relationship to each other.
"It is the state (he continues), the luxury, and fashions of the wealthy,
that give life to the artificers of elegance and taste; — it is their numerous
*
138 MEMOIRS
train that sends the rapid shuttle through the loom,— and, when they
leave their country, they not only beggar these dependents, but the tribes
that lived by clothing them.
" An extravagant passion for luxuries hath been in all nations a symp-
tom of an approaching dissolution. HoweVer in commercial states, while
it predominates only among the higher ranks , it brings with it the conci-
liating advantage of being greatly beneficial to trade and manufactures.
But, how singularly unfortunate is that kingdom, where the luxurious
passions of the great beggar those who should be supported by them, — a
kingdom, whose wealthy members keep equal pace with their numbers
in the dissipated and fantastical pursuits of life , without suffering the
lower class to glean even the dregs of their vices! While this is the case
with Ireland , the prosperity of her trade must be all forced and unnatu-
ral ; and if, in the absence of its wealthy and estated members, the state
already feels all the disadvantages of a Union , it cannot do better than
endeavour at a free trade by effecting it in reality."
Having demonstrated, at some length, the general evil of absentee-
ism , he thus proceeds to enquire into the most eligible remedy for
it: —
"The evil complained of is simply the absence of the proprietors of a
certain portion of the landed property. This is an evil unprovided against
by the legislature ; — therefore , we are not to consider whether it might
not with propriety have been guarded against, but whether a remedy or
alleviation of it can now be attempted consistently with the spirit of the
Constitution. On examining all the most obvious methods of attempting
this, I believe there will appear but two practicable. The First will be
by enacting a law for the frequent summoning the proprietors of landed
property to appear de facto at stated times. The Second will be the voting
a supply to be raised from the estates of such as do never reside in the
kingdom.
" The First, -it is obvious, would be an obligation of no use, without
a penalty was affixed to the breach of it, amounting to the actual forfeiture
of the estate of the recusant. This, we are informed, was once the case
in Ireland. But at present , whatever advantage the kingdom might reap
by it , it could not possibly be reconciled to the genius of the Constitution :
and, if the fine were trifling, it would prove the same as the second me-
thod , with the disadvantage of appearing to treat as an act of delinquency
what in no way infringes the municipal law of the kingdom.
" In the Second method the legislature is, in no respect, to be sup-
posed to regard the person of the Absentee. It prescribes no place of
residence to him, nor attempts to summon or detain him. The light
it takes up the point in is this — that the welfare of the whole is
injured by the produce of a certain portion of the soil being sent out
of the kingdom. * * * It will be said that the produce of 1 he
soil is not exported by being carried to our own markets : but if the value
received in exchange for it, whatever it be, whether money or commodi-
ties, be exported, it is exactly the same in its ultimate effects as if the
grain, flocks, etc. were literally sent to England. In this light, then, if
the state is found to suffer by such an exportation , its deducting a small
OF R. B. SHERIDAN. 139
part from the produce is simply a reimbursing the public, and putting
the loss of the public ( to whose welfare the interest of individuals is
always to be subservient ) upon those very members who occasioned
that loss.
" This is only to be effected by a tax."
Though to a political economist of the present day much of what
is so loosely expressed in these extracts will appear but the crudities
of a tyro in the science , yet , at the time when they were written ,
— when both Mr. Fox and Mr. Burke could expatiate on the state
of Ireland , without a single attempt to develope or enforce those
simple, but wise principles of commercial policy, every one of
which had been violated in the restrictions on her industry, — it was
no small merit in Mr. Sheridan to have advanced even thus far in a
branch of knowledge so rare and so important.
In addition to hjs own early taste for politics, the intimacies
which he had now formed with some of the most eminent public
men of the day must have considerably tended to turn his ambition
in that direction. At what time he first became acquainted with
Mr. Fox I have no means of ascertaining exactly. Among the let-
ters addressed to him by that statesman , there is one which , from
the formality of its style , must have been written at the very com-
mencement of their acquaintance — but , unluckily, it is not dated.
Lord John Townshend , who first had the happiness of bringing
Iwo such men together, had given the following interesting account
of their meeting, and of the impressions which they left upon the
minds of each other. His Lordship, however, has not specified the
period of this introduction :• —
" I made the first dinner-party at which they met, having told Fox
that all the notions he might have conceived of Sheridan's talents and'
genius from the comedy of The Rivals, etc. would fall infinitely short
of the admiration of his astonishing powers, which I was sure he would
entertain at the first interview. The first interview between them( there
were very few present, only Tickell and myself, and one or two more, )
I shall never forget. Fox told me, after breaking .up from dinner, that
he had always thought Hare , after my uncle , Charles Townshend , the
wittiest man he ever met with , but that Sheridan surpassed them both
infinitely ; and Sheridan told me next day that he was quite lost in admi-
ration of Fox , and that it was a puzzle to him to say what he admired
most, his commanding superiority of talent and universal knowledge, or
his playful fancy, artless manners, and benevolence of heart, which
showed itself in every word he uttered."
With Burke Mr. Sheridan became acquainted at the celebrated
Turk's Head Club, — and , if any incentive was wanting to his new
passion for political distinction , the station to which he saw his elo-
quent fellow-countryman exalted, with no greater claims from birth
110 MEMOIRS
or connection than his own , oould not have failed to furnish it. His
intimacy with Mr. Windham began , as we have seen , very early at
Bath , and the following letter, addressed to him by that gentleman
from Norfolk , in the year 1778, is a curious record not only of the
first political movements of a person so celebrated as Mr. Windham,
but of the interest with which Sheridan then entered into the public
measures of the day : —
" Jan. 5 , 1778.
" I fear my letter will greatly disappoint your hopes '. I have no ac-
count to send you of my answering Lord Townshend — of hard-fought
contests— spirited resolves — ballads, nrobs, cockades, and Lord North
Lurnt in effigy- We have had a bloodless campaign, but not from back-
wardness in our troops, but for thu most creditable reason that can be —
want of resolution in the enemy to encounter us. When I got down here
early this morning, expecting to find a room prepared, a chair set for
the president, and nothing wanting but that the orators should begin,
I was surprised to learn that no advertisement had appeared on the other
part ; but that Lord T. having dined at a meeting , where the proposal
was received very coldly , had taken fright, and for the time at least had
dropped the proposal. It had appeared , therefore , to those whom I ap-
plied to ( and I think very rightly ), that till an advertisement was insert-
ed by them, or was known for certain to be intended, it would not be
proper for any thing to be done by us. In this state, therefore , it rests.
The advertisement which we agreed upon is left at the pi-inter 's, ready
to be inserted upon the appearance of one from them. We lie upon our
arms, and shall begin to act upon any motion of the enemy. I am very
sorry that things have taken this turn, as I came down in full confidence
of being able toaccomplish something distinguished. I had drawn up, as I
came along, a tolerably good paper , to be distributed to-morrow in the
streets, and settled pretty well in my head the terms of a protest— besides
some pretty smart pieces of oratoiy, delivered upon Newmarket Heath. I
never felt so much disposition to exert myself before — I hope from my never
having before so fair a prospect of doing it with success. When the coach
comes in, I hope I shall receive a packet from you, which shall not be
lost , though it may not be used immediately.
" I must leave off writing, for I have got some other letters to send by
to-night's post. Writing in this ink is like speaking with respect to the
utter annihilation of what is past ; — by the time it gets to you, perhaps , it
may have become legible, but I have no chance of reading over my letter
myself.
" I shall not suffer this occasion to pass over entirely without benefit.
" Believe me yours most truly ,
" W. WINDHAM."
1 Mr. Windham had gone down to Norfolk , in consequence of a proposed
meeting in that county, under the auspices of Lord Townshend, for the purpose
of raising a subscription in aid of government , to be applied towards carrying
on the war with the American colonies. In about three weeks after the date of this
letter, the meeting was held, and Mr. Windham, in a spirited answer to Lord;
TownsheuJ , made the first essay of his eloquence in public.
OF R. B. SHERIDAN. 141
" Tell Mrs Sheridan that 1 hope she will have a closet ready , where I
may remain till the heat of the pursuit is over. My friends in France have
promised to have a vessel ready upon the coast.
" Richard Brinsley Sheridan, Esq.
Queen- Street, Lincoln's Inn Fields."
The firsl political service rendered by Mr. Sheridan to the party
wilh whom he now closely connected himself, was the active share
which he look in a periodical paper called The Englishman , set up
by the Whigs for the purpose of seconding, out of parliament , the
crimination and invective of which they kept up such a brisk fire
within. The intention, as announced by Sheridan in the first num-
ber % was , like Swift in the Drapier's Letters , to accommodate the
style of the publication to the comprehension of persons in "that
class of the community, who are commonly called the honest and
industrious.'" But this plan, — which not even Swift , independent as
was his humour of the artifices of style, could adhere to, — was soon
abandoned, and there is in most of Sheridan's own papers a finesse
and ingenuity of allusion , which only the most cultivated part of
his readers could fully enjoy. For instance, in exposing the incon-
sistency of Lord North, who had lately consented in a Committee of
the whole House, to a motion which he had violently opposed in
the House itself, — thus, "making (says Sheridan ) that respectable
assembly disobey its own orders , and the members reject with con-
tempt, under the form of a Chairman , the resolutions they had im-
posed on themselves under the authority of a Speaker ; " — he pro-
ceeds in a strain of refined raillery, as little suited to the "honest
and industrious " class of the community, as Swift's references to
Locke , Molyneux , and Sydney, were to the readers for whom he
also professed to write : —
" The burlesque of any plan, I know, is rather a recommendation of
it to Your Lordship ; and the ridicule you might throw on this assembly,
by continuing to support this Athanasian distinction of powersin the unity
of an apparently corporate body, might in the end compensate to you for
ihe discredit you have incurred in the attempt.
"A deliberative body of so uncommon a form, would probably be
deemed a kind of STATE MONSTER by the ignorant and the vulgar. This might
at first increase their awe for it, and so far counteract Your Lordship's in-
tentions. They would probably approach it with as much reverence as Ste-
phano does the monster in the Tempest : — 'What, one body and two voi-
ces—a most delicate monster ! 'However, they would soon grow familiari-
sed to it , and probably hold it in as little' respect as they were wished to
do. They would find it on many occa'sions, a very shallow monster, ' and
particularly, a most poor credulous monster, — while Your Lordship as
\\oiild enjoy every advantage and profit that could he made of it.
PnMished 13th of March , 1779.
142 MEMOIRS
You would have the benefit of the two voices, which would be the MON-
STER'S greal excellencies, and would be peculiarly serviceable to Your Lord-
ship. With ' the forward voice' you would aptly promulgate those vigorous
schemes aud productive resources, in which Your Lordship's fancy is so
pregnant; while ' the backward voice' might be kept solely for recantation.
The MONSTER, to maintain its character, must appear no novice in the
science of flattery or in the talents of servility, — and while it could never
scruple to bear any burdens Your Lordship should please to lay on it , you
would always, on the approach of a storm,fmd a shelter under its gabardine."
The most celebrated of these papers was the attack upon Lord
George Germaine , written also by Mr. Sheridan , — a composition
which, for unaffected strength of style and earnestness of feeling ,
may claim a high rank among the models of political vituperation.
To every generation its own contemporary press seems always more
licentious than any that had preceded it ; but it may be questioned,
whether the boldness of modern libel has ever gone beyond the di-
rect and undisguised personality, with which one cabinet minister
was called a liar and another a coward , in this and other writings
of the popular parly at that period. The following is the concluding
paragraph of this paper against Lord George Germaine , which is
in the form of a Letter to the Freeholders of England : —
" It would be presuming too much on your attention, at present, to
enter into an investigation of the measures and system of war which this
minister has pursued, — these shall certainly be the subject of a future pa-
per. At present I shall only observe that, however mortifying it may be to
reflect on the ignominy and disasters which this inauspicious character
has brought on his countty, yet there are consoling circumstances to be
drawu even from his ill success. The calamities which may be laid to his
account are certainly great ; but , had the case been otherwise , it may
fairly be questioned whether the example of a degraded and reprobated
officer ( preposterously elevated to one of the first stations of honour and
confidence iu the state) directing the military enterprizes of this country
with unlooked-for prosperity, might not ultimately be the cause of more
extensive evils than even those , great as they are , which we at present
experience : whether from so fatal a precedent we might not be led to
introduce characters under similar disqualifications into every department:
!— 'to appoint Atheists to the mitre, Jews to the exchequer, — to select a
treasury-bench from the Justilia , to place Brown Dignam on the wool-
pack , and Sir Hugh Palliser at the head of the admiralty."
The Englishman , as might be expected from the pursuits and
habits of those concerned in it , was not very punctually conducted,
and , after many apologies from the publisher for its not appearing
at the stated limes (Wednesdays), ceased altogether on the 2d of
June. From an imperfect sketch of a new Number, found among
Mr. Sheridan's manuscripts ., it appears that there was an intention
of reviving it a short time after — probatly towards the autumn of
OF R. B. SHERIDAN. H3
Hie same year, from the following allusion to Mr. Gibbon , whose
acceptance of a seat at the Board of Trade took place, if I recollect
right, in the summer of 1/70 :—
" This policy is very evident among the majority in both houses, who,
though they make no scruple in private to acknowledge the total inca-
pacity of ministers, yet, in public, speak and vote as if they believed
them to have every virtue under heaven ; and , on this principle , some
gentlemen, — as Mr. Gibbon, for instance, — -while, in private, they
indulge their opinion pretty freely, will yet, in their zeal for the public
good , even condescend to accept a place , in order to give a colour to
their confidence in the wisdom of the government."
It is needless to say that Mr. Sheridan had been for some lime
among the most welcome guests at Devonshire House — that rendez-
vous of all the wits and beauties of fashionable life , where Politics
was taught to wear its most attractive form , and sat enthroned, like
Virtue among the Epicureans , with all the graces and pleasures for
handmaids.
Without any disparagement of the manly and useful talents ,
which are at present no where more conspicuous than in the upper
ranks of society, it may be owned that for wit , social powers , and
literary accomplishements , the political men of the period under
consideration formed such an assemblage as it would be flattery to
say that our own times can parallel. The natural tendency of the ex-
cesses of the French Revolution was to produce in the higher
classes of England an increased reserve of manner, and, of course, a
proportionate restraint on all within their circle , which have been
fatal to conviviality and humour, and not very propitious to wit —
subduing both manners and conversation to a sort of polished level,
to rise above which is often thought almost as vulgar as to sink be^
low it. Of the greater ease of manners that existed some forty or
fifty years ago , one trifling, but not me less significant , indication
was the habit, then prevalent among men of high station-, of call-
ing each other by such familiar names as Dick, Jack, Tom, etc. ' —
a mode of address , that brings with it, in its very sound, the notion
of conviviality and playfulness , and, however unrefined, implies
at least, that ease and sea-room, in which wit spreads its canvas
most fearlessly.
With respect to literary accomplishments , loo , — in one branch
of which, poetry, almost all the leading politicians of that day dis^
linguished Ihemselves — the change that has taken place in the times,
independently of any want of such talent , will fully account for the
difference that we witness , in this respect , at present. As the public
1 Dick Sheridan , Ned Burke, Jack Townshend , Tom GrenviUe , etc. etc.
H4 MEMOIRS
mind becomes more intelligent and watchful , statesmen can the
less afford to trifle with their talents , or to bring suspicion upon
their fitness for their own vocation , by the failures which they risk
in deviating into others. Besides, in poetry, the temptation of dis-
tinction no longer exists — the commonness of that talent in the
market , at present , being such as to reduce the value of an elegant
copy of verses, very far below the price it was at, when Mr. Hayley
enjoyed an almost exclusive monopoly of the article.
In the clever Epistle , by Tickell , " from the Hon. Charles Fox ,
partridge-shooting, to the Hon. John Townshend, cruising, " some
of the most shining persons in that assemblage of wits and statesmen,
who gave a lustre to Brooks's Club-House at the period of which
we are speaking, are thus agreeably grouped : —
*' Soon as to Brooks's ' thence thy footsteps bend ,
What gratulations thy approacli attend!
See Gibbon rap his box — auspicious sign
That classic compliment and wit combine ;
See Beauclerk's cheek a tinge of red surprize,
Aud friendship give what cruel health denies; —
Ou that auspicious night, supremely grac'd
With chosen guests, the pride of liberal taste,
Not in contentious heat, nor madd'ning strife,
Not with the busy ills, nor cares of life,
We'll waste the fleeting hours — far happier themes
Shall claim each thought and chase ambition's dreams.
Each beauty that sublimity can boast
He best shall tell, who still unites them most.
Of wit , of taste , of fancy we'll debate ,
If Sheridan , for once, be not too late :
But scarce a thought on politics, we'll spare.
Unless on Polish politics , with Hare.
Good-natur'd Devon ! oft shall then appear
The cool complacence of thy friendly sneer :
' Oft shall Fitzpatrick's wit and Stanhope's ease
And Burgoyne's manly sense unite to please.
And while each guest attends our varied feats
Of scattered covies and retreating fleets,
Me shall they wish some better sport to gain ,
And Thee more glory, from the next campaign."
In the society of such men the destiny of Mr. Sheridan could not
1 The well-known lines on Brooks himself are perhaps the perfection of this
drawing-room .style of humour: —
" And know, I've bought the best champagne from Brooks;
From liberal Brooks , whose speculative skill
Is hasty credit, and a distant bill;
Who, nurs'd in clubs, disdains a vulgar trade ,
Exults to trust , and blushes to be paid."
OF R. B. SHERIDAN. 145
be long in fixing On the one side, his own keen thirst for dis-
tinction , and , on the other, a quick and sanguine appreliation of
the service that such talents might render in the warfare of party,
could not fail to hasten the result that both desired.
His first appearance before the public as a political character was
in conjunction with Mr. Fox, at the beginning of the year 1780,
when the famous Resolutions on the State of the Representation ,
signed by Mr. Fox as chairman of the Westminster Committee,
together with a Report on the same subject from the Sub-Committee)
signed fay Sheridan , were laid before the public. Annual Parliaments
and Universal Suffrage were the professed objects of this meeting 5
and the first of the Resolutions , subscribed by Mr. Fox , stated that
"-Annual Parliaments are the undoubted right of the people of
England. "
Notwithstanding this strong declaration, it may be doubted whether
Sheridan was, any more than Mr. Fox, a very sincere friend to the prin-
ciple of Reform ; and the manner in which he masked his disincli-
nation or indifference to it was strongly characteristic both of his
humour and his tact. Aware that the wild scheme of Cartwright and
others , which these Resolutions recommended , was wholly imprac-
ticable , he always took refuge in it when pressed upon the subject,
and would laughingly advise his political friends to do the same : —
" Whenever any one , " he would say, " proposes to you a specific
plan of Reform , always answer that you are for nothing short of
Annual Parliaments and Universal Suffrage — there you are safe. "
He also had evident delight , when talking on this question , in re-
ferring to a jest of Burke , who said that there had arisen a new
parly of Reformers, still more orthodox than the rest, who thought
Annual Parliaments far from being sufficiently frequent, and who,
founding themselves upon the latter words of the statute of Ed-
ward III. , that " a parliament shall be holden every year once,
and more often if need be ," were known by the denomination of
the Oftener-if-need-bes. "For my part, " he would add, in re-
lating this , " I am an Oftener-if-need-be. " Even when most serious
on the subject (for to the last, he professed himself a warm friend
to Reform) , his arguments had the air of being ironical and insi-
dious. To Annual Parliaments and Universal Suffrage, he would
say, the principles of representation naturally and necessarily led ,
— any less extensive proposition was a base compromise and a de-
reliction of right ; and the first encroachment on the people was
the act of Henry VI. , which limited the power of election to forty-
shilling freeholders within the county, whereas the real right was
in the " outrageous and excessive'1 number of people, by whom
10
,40 MEMOIRS
the preamble reciles ' thai the choice had been made of late.—
Such were the arguments by which he affected to support his cause ,
and it is not difficult to detect the eyes of the snake glistening from
under them.
The dissolution of parliament that took place in the autumn of
this year ( 1 780 ) afforded at length the opportunity to which his
ambition had so eagerly looked forward. It has been said , I know
not with what accuracy, that he first tried his chance of election
at Honiton — but Stafford was the place destined to have the honour
of first choosing him for its representative ; and it must have been
no small gratification to his independent spirit, that, unfurnished
as he was with claims from past political services , he appeared in
parliament , not as the nominee of any aristocratic patron , but as
member for a borough, which, whatever might be its purity in
other respects , at least enjoyed the freedom of choice. Elected con-
jointly with Mr. Monckton , to whose interest and exertions he
chiefly owed his success , he took his seat in the new parliament
which met in the month of October ; — and , from that moment giving
himself up to the pursuit of politics , bid adieu to the worship of the
Dramatic Muse for ever : —
" Comcedia luget ,•
Srena est deserta : hincludus risusque jocusque
£l numeriinnumeri simulomnes collacrumarunt."
Comedy mourns — the Stage neglected sleeps —
F.v'u Mirth in tears his languid laughter steeps,
And Song , through all her various empire, weeps.
CHAPTER VII.
Unfinished Plays and Poems.
BEFORE I enter upon the sketch of Mr. Sheridan's political life ,
I shall take this opportunity of laying before the reader such in-
formation with respect to his unfinished literary designs, both
dramatic and poetic , as the papers in my possession enable me to
communicate.
Some of his youthful attempts in literature have already been
mentioned , and there is a dramatic sketch of his , founded on the
Vicar of Wakefield , which , from a dale on the manuscript ( 1768),
appears to have been produced at a still earlier age , and when
he was only in his seventeenth year. A scene of this piece will be
1 "Elections of knights of shires have now of late been made by very grent
outrageous and excessive number of people, dwelling within the same counties,
of the which most part was people of small sabstance and of no value." 8H. G. c, 7.
OF 1\. B SHERIDAN, 1 ',7
sufficient to show how very soon his talent for lively dialogue
displayed itself: —
" SCENE II.
" TIIORNHILL and ABNOID.
" Thornhill. Nay, prithee, Jack, no more of that if you love me. What,
shall I stop short with the game in full view? Faith, I helieve the
fellow's turned puritan. "What think you of turning methodist , Jack ?
You have a tolerable good canting countenance , and, if escaped being
taken up for a Jesuit, you might make a fortune in Moor-fields.
" Arnold. I was serious , Tom.
" Thorn. Splenetic you mean. Come , fill your glass , and a truce to
your preaching. Here's a pretty fellow has let his conscience" sleep for
these five years, and has now plucked morality from the leaves of his
grandmother's bible, beginning to declaim against what he has practised
half his life-time. Why, I tell you once more, my schemes are all come
to perfection. I am now convinced Olivia loves me— at our last conversa-
tion , she said she would rely wholly on my honour. .
" Arn. And therefore you would deceive her.
" Thorn. Why no — deceive her ? — why — indeed — as to that — but —
hut, for God's sake, let me hear no more on this subject , for 'faith you
make me sad, Jack. If you continue your admonitions, I shall begin to
think you have yourself an eye on the girl. You have promised me your
assistance, and when you came down into the country, were as hot on
the scheme as myself : but, since you have been two or three times with
me at Primrose's , you have fallen off strangely. No encroachments, Jack,
on my little rosebud — if you have a mind to beat up game in this quarter,
there's her sister — but no poaching.
'•'•Arn. I am not insensible to her sister's merit, but have no such
views as you have. However , you have promised me that if you find in
this lady that real virtue which you so firmly deny to exist in the sex, you
will give up the pursuit, and, foregoing the low considerations of for-
tune , make atonement by marriage.
" Thorn. Such is my serious resolution.
" Arn. I wish you'd forego the experiment. But, you have been so
much in raptures with your success, that I have, as yet, had no clear
account how you came acquainted in the family.
" Thorn. Oh , I'll tell you immediately. You know Lady Patchet?
" Arn. What, is she here?
" Thorn. It was by her I was first introduced. It seems that, last year ,
her ladyship's reputation began to suffer a little ; so that she thought it
prudent to retire for a while, till people learned better manners or got
worse memories. She soon became acquainted with this little family, and,
as the wife is a prodigious admirer of quality , grew in a short time to be
very intimate, and imagining that she may one day make her market of
the girls, lias much ingratiated herself with them. She introduced me--
1 drank, and abused this degenerate age with the father promised
\\onders to the mother for all her brats — praised her gooseberry wine ,
148 MEMOIRS
and ogled the daughters, by which means in three days I made the pro-
gress I related to you.
^/vz. You have been expeditious indeed. I fear where that devil Lady
Patchet is concerned there can be no good — but is there not a son ?
" Thorn. Oh! the most ridiculous creature in nature. He has been
bred in the country, a bumpkin all his life , till within these six years ,
when he was sent to the University, but, the misfortunes that have re-
duced his father falling out, he is returned, the most ridiculous animal
you ever saw, a conceited disputing blockhead. So there is no great matter
to fear from his penetration. But come, let us begone, and see this moral
family , we shall meet them coming from the field , and you will see a
man who was once in affluence, maintaining by hard labour a numerous
family.
" Am. Oh ! Thornhill, can you wish to add infamy to their poverty ?
{Exeunt. "
There also remain among his papers three Acls of a Drama ,
without a name, — written evidently in haste , and with scarcely any
correction , — the subject of which is so wild and unmanageable ,
that I should not have hesitated in referring it to the same early
date, had not the introduction into one of the scenes of "Dry be
that tear, be hush'd that sigh," proved it to have been produced
after that pretty song was written.
The chief personages upon whom the story turns are a band of
outlaws, who, under the name and disguise of Devils , have taken
up their residence in a gloomy wood, adjoining a village, the
inhabitants of which they keep in perpetual alarm by their in-
cursions and apparitions. In the same wood resides a hermit,
secretly connected with this band, who keeps secluded within his
cave the beautiful Reginilla , hid alike from the light of the sun and
the eyes of men. She has , however, been indulged in her prison
with a glimpse of a handsome young-huntsman, whom she believes
to be a phantom , and is encouraged in her belief by the hermit ,
by whose contrivance this huntsman ( a prince in disguise ) has
been thus presented to her. The following is — as well as I can
make it out from a manuscript not easily decipherable — the scene
that takes place between the fair recluse and her visitant. The style,
where style is attempted , shows , as the reader will perceive , a
taste yet immature and unchastened : —
" Scene draws, and discovers REGIKILLA asleep in the Cave.
"£nterPf.\imR and other Devils, with the HUNTSMAN— unbind him, and
exeunt.
" Hunts. Ha ! Where am I now ? Is it indeed the dread abode of guilt,
or refuge of a band of thieves ? it cannot be a dream. ( sees REGINILLA.)
Ha ! if this be so , and I do dream , may I never wake— it is — my beating
OF R. B. SHERIDAN. 149
heart acknowledges my dear , gentle Reginilla. I'll not wake her, lest, if
it be a phantom, it should vanish. Oh , balmy breath ! but for thy soft
sighs that come to tell me it is no image, I should believe. . . . ( bends
down towards her.) a sigh from her heart ! — thus let me arrest thee on
thy way. (kisses her.) A deeper blush has flushed her cheek — sweet mo-
desty ! that even in sleep is conscious and resentful. — She will not wake ,
and yet some fancy calls up those frequent sighs— how her heart beats in
its ivory cage, like an imprisoned bird— or as if to reprove the hand that
dares approach its sanctuary ! Oh , would she but wake , and bless this
gloom with her bright eyes! — Soft, here's a lute— perhaps her soul will
hear the call of harmony.
' " Oh yield , fair lids , the treasures of my heart ,
Release those beams that make this mansion bright ;
From her sweet sense , Slumber, tlio' sweet thou art ,
Begone , aud give the air she breathes in light.
" Or while, oh Sleep, thou dost those glances hide,
Let rosy slumbers still around her play,
Sweet as the cherub Innocence enjoy'd ,
When iu thy lap , new born , in smiles lie lay.
" Aud thou , oh Dream , that com'st her sleep to cheer,
Oh take my .shape , and play a lover's part;
Kiss her from me , and whisper in her ear,
Till her eyes shine, 'tis night within my heart.
' ' Reg. ( waking. ) The phantom , father , ( seizes his hand. ) ah , do not,
do not wake me then, (rises.)
44 Hunts, (kneeling to her. ) Thou beauteous sun of this dark world ,
that mak'st a place, so like the cave of death, a heaven to me, instruct
me how I may approach thee— how address thee and not offend.
" Reg. Oh how my soul would hang upon those lips! speak on— and
yet , methinks , he should not kneel so — why are you afraid , Sir ? indeed,
1 cannot hurt you.
" Hunts. Sweet innocence , I'm sure thou would'st not.
" Jieg. Art thou not he to whom I told my name, and didst thou not
say thine was —
'•'•Hunts. Oh blessed be the name that then thou told'st — it has been
ever since my charm, and kept me from distraction. But, may I ask how
such sweet excellence as thine could be hid in such a place ?
" Jteg. Alas, I know not— for such as thou I never saw before, nor
any like myself.
44 Hunts. Nor like thee ever shall— but would'st thou leave this place ,
and live with such as I am ?
" Jteg. Why may not you live here with such as I?
" Hunts. Yes— but I would cany thee where all above an azure canopy
extends, at night bedropt with gems, and one more glorious lamp, that
1 I have taken ihe liberty here of supplying a few rhymes and words that are
wanting in the original copy of the song. The last line of all runs thns in the
manuscript : — (
" Till her eye shiues , I live iu darkest night."
which, not rhyming as it onght, I have ventured to ahcc as above.
I
I&O MEMOIRS
yields such bashful light as love enjoys— while underneath , a carpet shall
be spread of flowers to court the pressure of thy step , with such sweet
whispered invitations from the leaves of shady groves or murmuring of
silver streams , that thou shalt think thou art in Paradise.
" Meg. Indeed !
"Hunts. Ay, and I'll watch and wait on thee all day, and cull the
choicest flowers, which while thou bind'st in the mysterious knot of love,
I'll tune for thee no vulgar lays , or tell thee tales shall make thee weep
yet please thee — while thus I press thy hand, and warm it thus with
kisses.
" Reg. I doubt thee not — but then my Governor has told me many a
tale of faithless men , who court a lady but to steal her peace and fame ,
and then to leave her.
"Hunts. Oh never such as thou art — witness all
" Reg. Then wherefore couldst thou not live here? For I do feel, tho'
tenfold darkness did surround this spot , T could be blest, would you but
stay here; and, if it made you sad to be imprison'd thus, I'd sing and
play for thee, and dress thee sweetest fruits , and, though you chid me ,
would kiss thy tear away and hide my blushing face upon thy bosom —
indeed, I would. Then what avails the gaudy day and all the evil things
I'm told inhabit there , to those who have within themselves all that
delight and love and heaven can give.
" Hunts. My angel, thou hast indeed the soul of love.
" Reg. It is no ill thing , is it?
" Hunts. Oh most divine — it is the immediate gift of heaven , which
steals into our breast * ¥ *
'tis that which makes me sigh thus , look thus — fear and tremble for thee.
" Reg. Sure I should learn it too, if you would teach me.
(Sound of horn without— Huntsman starts.
" Reg. You must not go — this is but a dance preparing for my amuse-
ment—oh we have, indeed, some pleasures here — come, I will sing for
you the while.
" Wilt thou then leave me ? canst thou go from me ,
To woo the fair that love the gaudy day ?
Yet, ev'n among those joys, thou'lt find that she,
Who dwells in darkness , loves thee more than they.
For these poor hands, and these unpractised eyes ,
And this poor heart , is thine without disguise .
" But , if thou'lt stay with me , my only care
Shall be to please and make thee love to stay,
With music , song , and dance * * *
But , if you go , nor music , song , nor dance ,
" If thon art studious, I will read
Thee tales of pleasing woe —
OF R. R. SHKHIDAN. 151
If thou art tad , I'll k is- away
The tears ..... that flow.
" If thou would'st play, I'll kiss thec till 1 blush,
Tlieu hide that blush upon thy breast ,
If thou would'st sleep ............
Shall rock thy achiug head to rest.
Hunts. My soul's wonder, I will never leave thee.
" ( The dance.— Allemande by two Bears.)
" Pcv. So fond, so soon! 1 cannot bear to see it. What ho, wilhin
( Devils enter.) secure him.
( Seize and bind 'the Huntsman."
The Duke or sovereign of the country, where these events are
supposed to take place, arrives at the head of a military force, for
the purpose of investing the haunted wood , and putting down , as
he says , those " lawless renegades , who , in infernal masquerade ,
make a hell around him. " He is also desirous of consulting the
holy hermit of the wood , and availing himself of his pious con-
solations and prayers — being haunted with remorse for having
criminally gained possession of the crown by contriving the ship-
wreck of the rightful heir, and then banishing from the court his
most virtuous counsellors. In addition to these causes of dis-
quietude, he has lately lost, in a mysterious manner, his only
son , who , he supposes , has fallen a victim to these Satanic out-
laws, but who, on the contrary, it appears, has voluntarily become
an associate of their band , and is amusing himself, heedless of his
noble father's sorrow, by making love, in the disguise of a dancing
bear, to a young village coquette of the name of Mopsa. A short
specimen of the manner, in which this last farcical incident is
managed, will show how wide even Sheridan was, at first, of that
true vein of comedy, which, on searching deeper into the mine,
he so soon afterwards found : —
" SCENE. — The Inside of the Cottage. — MOPSA, LUBIN ( her father), and
COLIN ( her lover) discovered.
" Enter PEVIDOR, leading the Bear, and singing.
" And he dances, dances, dances,
And goes upright like a Christian swaiu ,
And he shows you pretty fancies,
Nor ever tries to shake off his chain.
" Lubin. Servant, master. Now, Mopsa, you are happy- -it is, indeed,
.1 handsome creature. What country does your bear come from ?
" Pev. Dis bear , please your worship , is of de race of dat bear of
St. Antony, who was de first convert he made in de woods. St. Antony
152 MEMOIRS
bade him never more meddle with man, and de bear observed de com
mand to his dying day.
"Lub. Wonderful!
" Pev. Dis generation be all de sarne-r-all born widout toots.
" Colin. What, can't he bite? (puts his Jinger to the Bear's mouth ,
•who bites him.} Oh Lord, no toots! why you—
" Pev. Oh dat be only his gum.
(Mopsa laughs.
" Col. For shame, 31opsa— now, I say, Maister Lubin, mustn't she
give me a kiss to make it well ?
"Lub. Ay , kiss her, kiss her , Colin.
" Col. Come, Miss.
(Mopsa runs to the Bear , who kisses her.)
The following scene of the Devils , drinking in their subterran-
eous dwelling, though cleverly imagined, is such as, perhaps, no
cookery of style could render palateable to an English audience.
"SCENE. — The Devil's Cave.
" isl Dev. Come, Urial, here's to our resurrection.
" zd Dev. It is a toast I'd scarcely pledge— by my life, I think we're
happier here.
" 5<f Dev . Why , so think I — by Jove , I would despise the man , who
could but wish to rise again to earth , unless we were to lord there. What?
sneaking pitiful in bondage, among vile money-scrapers, treacherous
friends, fawning flatterers — or, still worse, deceitful mistresses. Shall we,
•who reign lords here, again lend ourselves to swell the train of tyranny
and usurpation? By my old father's memory, I'd rather be the blindest
mole that ever skulked in darkness, the lord of one poor hole where he
might say ' I'm master here.'
" id Dev. You are too hot — where shall concord be found, if even the
devils disagree? — Come, fill the glass, and add thy harmony — while we
have wine to enlighten us, the san be hanged ! I never thought he gave
so fine a light, for my part — and then, there are such vile inconveniences
— high winds and storms, rains , etc. — oh hang it! living on the outside
of the earth is like sleeping on deck, when one might, like us, have a
snug birth in the cabin.
" ist Dev. True , true ,—Helial , where is thy catch?
" In the earth's centre let me lire,
There, like a rabbit will I thrive,
Nor care if fools should call my life infernal ;
While men on earth crawl lazily about,
Like snails upon the surface of the nut ,
We are , like maggots , feasting in the kernel.
'' ist Dev. Bravo, by this glass; Meli , what say you?
" "5d Dev. Come, here's to my Mina — I used to toast her in the uppep
regions.
". i yt Dev. Ay , we miss them here.
OF R. B. SHERIDAN. 153
'« What's a woman good for?
Rat me, sir, if I know.
s She's a savour to the glass ,
An excuse to make it pass.
" i st Dcv. I fear we are like the wits above , who abuse women only
because they can't get them ,— and after all , it must be owned they are a
pretty kind of creatures.
"All. Yes, yes.
" Catch.
" 'Tis woman after all
Is the blessiug of this ball,
'Tis she keeps the balance of it even.
We are devils , it is true ,
But had we women too ,
Our Tartarus would turn to a Heaven ! "
A scene in the Third Act, where these devils bring the prisoners
whom they have captured to trial , is an overcharged imitation of
the satire of Fielding , and must have been written , I think , after
a perusal of that author's Satirical Romance , "A Journey from this
World to the Next ," — the first half of which contains as much
genuine humour and fancy as are to be found in any other pro-
duction of the kind. The interrogatories of Minos in that work
suggested , I suspect , the following scene : —
" Enter a number of Devils. — Others bring in Luuovico.j
" ixt Dev. Just taken , in the wood , sir , with two more.
" Chorus of Devils.
" Welcome , welcome * *
Pev. What art thoa?
Ludov. I went for a man in the other world.
Pev. What sort of man ?
Ludov. A soldier, at your service.
Pev. Wast thou in the battle of ?
i ' Ludov. Truly I was.
' Pev. What was the quarrel ?
' Ludov. I never had time to ask. The children of peace , who make
our quarrels, must be Your Worship's informants there.
" Pev. And art thou not ashamed to draw the sword for thou know'st
not what— and to be the victim and food of others' folly ?
"Ludov. Vastly.
" Pev. (to the Devils.) Well, take him for to-day, and only score his
skin and pepper it with powder — then chain him to a cannon, and let the
Devils practise at hishcad— his be the reward who hits it with a single ball.
' VI MEMOIRS
" Ludo\>. Oh mercy , mercy !
"Pev. Bring Savodi.
(A Devil brings in SAVODI.)
' ' Chorus as before.
" Welcome, welcome, etc.
" Pev. Who art thou ?
" Sav. A courtier, at Your Grace's service.
" Pev . Your name ?
'•'•Sav. Savodi, an' please Your Highnesses.
" -Pev. Your use?
" Sav. A foolish utensil of state— a clock kept in the waiting-chamber,
to count the hours.
" Pev . Are you not one of those who fawn and lie , and cringe like spa-
niels to those a little higher, and take revenge by tyranny on all beneath ?
" Sav. Most true , Your Highnesses.
" Pev. Is't not thy trade to promise what thou canst not do, — to gull
the credulous of money, to shut the royal door on unassuming merit — to
catch the scandal for thy master's ear, and stop the people's voice
" Sav. Exactly , an' please Your Highnesses' Worship.
" Pev . Thou dost not now deny it ?
" Sav. Oh no , no , no.
" Pev. Here — baths of flaming sulphur ! — quick — stir up the cauldron
of boiling lead— this crime deserves it.
" ist Dev. Great Judge of this infernal place, allow him but the meres
of the court.
" Sav . Oh kind Devil! — yes, Great Judge, allow.
" \sl Dev. The punishment is undergone already — truth from him is
something.
" Sav . Oh , most unusual — sweet devil !
" ist Dev. Then , he is tender , and might not be able to endure —
" Sav. Endure ! I shall be annihilated by the thoughts of it — dear devil.
" \st Dev Then let him, I beseech you, in scalding brimstone be first
soaked a little , to inure and prepare him for the other.
" Sav. Oh hear me, hear me!
" Pev. Well, be it so.
(Devils take him out and bring in PAMPHILES.)"!
"• Pev. This is he we rescued from the ladies— a dainty one, I warrant.
" Pamphil. (affectedly ) This is Hell, certainly by the smell.
" Pev. What , art thou a soldier too?
u Pamphil. No, on my life— a Colonel, but no soldier — innocent even
of a review , as I exist.
" Pev. How rose you then ? come , come— the truth.
" Pamphil. Nay, be not angry, sir— if I was preferred it was not 1113
fault — upon my soul, 1 never did any thing to incur preferment.
'« Pev. Indeed ! what was thy employment then , friend ?
'• Pamphil. Hunting—
" Pev. 'Tis false.
OF R. B. SHERIDAN. 1.S5
" Ptiinpliil Hunting women's reputations.
" Pev. What , thou wert amorous ?
" Pamphil. No, on my honour, sir, but vain, confounded vain — the
character of bringing down my game was all I wished , and, like a true
sportsman, I would have given my birds to my pointers.
" Pev . This crime is new — what shall we do with him ?" etc. etc.
This singular Drama does not appear to have been ever finished.
With respect to the winding up of the story, the hermit, we may
conclude , would have turned out to be the banished counsellor,
and the devils, his followers 5 while the young huntsman would
most probably have proved to be the rightful heir of the dukedom.
In a more crude and unfinished state are the fragments that
remain of his projected opera "The Foresters. " To this piece,
( which appears to have been undertaken at a later period than the
preceding one , ) Mr. Sheridan often alluded in conversation , par-
ticularly when any regret was expressed at his having ceased to
assist Old Drury with his pen, — "wait (he would say smiling)
till I bring out my Foresters." The plot , as far as can be judged
from the few meagre scenes that exist , was intended to be an
improvement upon that of the Drama just described — the Devils
being transformed into Foresters , and the action commencing,
not with the loss of a son but the recovery of a daughter, who
had fallen by accident into the hands of these free-boolers. At
the opening of the piece the young lady has just been restored
to her father by the heroic Captain of the Foresters , with no other
loss than that of her heart, which she is supected of having left with
her preserver. The list of the Dramatis Persona? ( to which however
he did not afterwards adhere ) is as follows : —
Old Oscar.
Young Oscar.
Colona.
Morven.
Harold.
Nico.
Miza.
Malvina.
Allanda.
Dorcas.
Emma.
To this strange medley of nomenclature is appended a me-
morandum—" fide Petrarch for names."
The first scene represents the numerous lovers of Malvina
rejoicing at her return , and celebrating it by a chorus ; after which
Oscar, her father, holds the following dialogue with one of them : —
1&6 MEMOIRS
" Osc. I thought, son , you would have been among the first and most
eager to see Malvina upon her return.
" Colin. Oh , father, I would give half my flock to think that my pre-
sence would be welcome to her.
" Osc. I am sure you have never seen her prefer any one else.
" Colin. There's the torment of it — were I but once sure that she
loved another better, I think I should be content — at least she should
not know but that I was so. My love is not of that jealous sort that 1
should pine to see her happy with another — nay, I could even regard the
man that would make her so.
" Osc. Haven't you spoke with her since her return?
" Colin. Yes, and I think she is colder to me than ever. My professions
of love used formerly to make her laugh , but now they make her wee]) —
formerly she seemed wholly insensible ; now, alas, she seems to feel — but
as if addressed by the wrong person." etc. etc.
In a following scene are introduced two brothers , both equally
enamoured of the fair Malvina , yet preserving their affection un-
altered towards each other. With the recollection of Sheridan's own
story fresh in our minds , we might suppose that he meant some
reference to it in this incident, were it not for the exceeding
niaiserie that he has thrown into the dialogue. For instance : —
Osc. But we are interrupted — here are two more of her lovers — bro-
thers , and rivals , but friends.
" Enter Nico and LUBIN.
" So , Nico, — how comes it you are so late in your enquiries after your
mistress ?
" Nico. I should have been sooner; but Lubin would stay to make
himself fine — though he knows he has no chance of appearing so to
Malvina.
" Lubin. No, in truth— Nico says right — I have no more chance than
himself.
" Osc. However, I am glad to see you reconciled, and that you live
together, as brothers should do.
" Nico. Yes, ever since we found your daughter cared for neither of
us, we grew to care for one another. There is a fellowship in adversity
that is consoling ; and it is something to think that Lubin is as unfortunate
as myself.
" Lubin. Yes , we are well matched — I think Malvina dislikes him , if
possible more than me, and that's a great comfort.
" Nico. We often sit together, and play such woeful tunes on our
pipes , that the very sheep are moved at it.
Osc. But why don't you rouse yourselves , and since you can meet
with no requital of your passion, return the proud maid scorn for scorn.
" Nico. Oh mercy, no — we find a great comfort in our sorrow— don'f
we , Lubin ?
" Lubin. Yes, if I meet no crosses, I shall be undone in another
twelvemonth — I let all go to wreck and ruin.
OF R. B. SHERIDAN. 157
H Osc. But suppose Malvina should be brought to give you encou-
ragement.
" Nico. Heaven forbid ! that would spoil all.
" Lubin. Truly, I was almost assured within this fortnight that she
was going to relax.
' ' Nico. Ay, I shall never forget how alarmed we were at the appear-
ance of a smile one day," etc. etc.
Of the poetical part of this opera , the only specimens he has left
are a skeleton of a chorus, beginning "Bold Foresters we are,"
and the following song, which, for grace and tenderness, is not
unworthy of the hand that produced The Duenna : —
" We two , each other's only pride,
Each other's bliss , each other's guide ,
Far from the world's unhallow'd noise ,
Its coarse delights and tainted joys ,
Through wilds will roam and deserts rude—
For, Love , thy home is solitude.
" There shall no vain pretender be,
To court thy smile and torture me ,
No proud superior there be seen ,
But nature's voice shall hail thee, queen.
" With fond respect and tender awe ,
I will receive thy gentle law,
Obey thy looks , and serve thee still ,
Prevent thy wish , foresee thy will ,
And , added to a lover's care ,
Be all that friends and parents are."
But, of all Mr. Sheridan's unfinished designs, the Comedy which
he meditated on the subject of Affectation. is that of which the
abandonment is most to be regretted. To a satirist , who would not
confine his ridicule to the mere outward demonstrations of this
folly, but would follow and detect it through all its windings and
disguises, there could hardly perhaps be a more fertile theme.
Affectation, merely of manner, being itself a sort of acting, does
not easily admit of any additional colouring on the stage, without
degenerating into farce j and, accordingly, fops and fine ladies —
with very few exceptions — are about as silly and tiresome in repre-
sentation as in reality. But the aim of the dramatist, in this comedy,
would have been far more important and extensive-, — and how
anxious he was to keep before his mind's eye the whole wide
horizon of folly which his subject opened upon him , will appear
from the following list of the various species of Affectation , which
I have found written by him , exactly as I give it , on the inside
cover of the memorandum-book , that contains the only remaining
vestiges of this play :—
I .>* MEMOIRS
'• An Affectation of Business.
of Accomplishments.
of Love of Letters and Wit.
Music,
of Intrigue,
of Sensibility,
of Vivacity.
of Silence and Importance,
of Modesty,
of Profligacy,
of Moroseness."
In this projected comedy he does not seem to have advanced as
far as even the invention of the plot or the composition of a single
scene. The memorandum-book alluded to — on the first leaf of which
he had written in his neatest hand ( as if to encourage himself to
begin) "Affectation" — contains, besides the names of three of the
intended personages, Sir Babble Bore, Sir Peregrine Paradox,
and Feignwit, nothing but unembodied sketches of character, and
scattered particles of wit, which seem waiting, like the imperfect
forms and seeds in chaos , for the brooding of genius to nurse them
into system and beauty.
The reader will not, I think, be displeased at seeing some of
these curious materials here. They will show that in this work , as
well as in the School for Scandal , he was desirous of making the
vintage of his wit as rich as possible, by distilling into it every drop
that the collected fruits of his thought and fancy could supply.
Some of the jests are far-fetched , and others , perhaps , abortive —
but it is pleasant to track him in his pursuit of a point , even when
he misses. The very failures of a man of real wit are often more
delightful than the best successes of others— the quick-silver, even
in escaping from his grasp, shines; "it still eludes him, but it
glitters still."
I shall give the memorandums as I find them , with no other
difference , than that of classing together those that haw relation to
the same thought or subject.
" Character. — Mr. BUSTLE.
"A man who delights in hurry and interruption — will take any one's
business for them — leaves word where all his plagues may follow him —
governor of all hospitals , etc. — share in Ranelagh — speaker every where ,
from the Vestry to the House of Commons — 'I am not at home -gad,
now he has heard me and I must be at home.'—' Here am I so plagued,
and there is nothing I love so much as retirement and quiet.' — '^ ou never
sent after me.' — Let servants call in to him such a message as ' Tis nothing
but the window-tax , ' the hiding in a room that communicates. — A young
man tells him some important business in the middle of fifty trivial inter-
OF R. B. SHERIDAN. if.fl
ruptions , and the calling in of idlers; such as fidlers, wild-beast men,
foreigners with recommendatory letters, etc.— answers notes on his
knee, ' and so your uncle died?— for your obliging enquiries — and left
you an orphan — to cards in the evening.'
" Can't bear to be doing nothing. — 'Can I do any thing for any body
anywhere?' — 'Have been to the Secretary — written to the Treasury.'
— ' Must proceed to meet the Commissioners, and write Mr. Price's little
l><n's exercise.'— The most active idler and laborious trifler.
"He does not in reality lovfc business — only the appearance of it. 'Ha [
lia! did my Lord say that I was always very busy ? — What, plagued to
death?'
"Keeps all his letters and copies — 'Mem. to meet the Hackney coach
Commissioners — to arbitrate between, etc., etc.'
" Contrast with the man of indolence, his brother. — 'So, brother,
just up ! and I have been, etc., etc.' — one will give his money from indo-
lent generosity, the other his time from restlessness — "Twill be shorter
to pay the bill than look for the receipt.' — Files letters , answered and
unanswered— 'Why, here are more unopened than answered! '
" He regulates every action by a love for fashion — will grant annuities
though he doesn't want money— appear to intrigue, though constant,
to drink, though sober— has some fashionable vices — affects to be dis-
tressed in his circumstances, and, when his new vis-a-vis comes out,
procures a judgment to be entered against him— wants to lose, but by
ill-luck wins five thousand pounds.
"One who changes sides in all arguments the moment any one agrees
with him.
" An irresolute arguer, to whom it is a great misfortune that there are
not three sides to a question — a libertine in argument; conviction, like
enjoyment, palls him, and his rakish understanding is soon satiated with
truth — more capable of being faithful to a paradox — 'I love truth as I do
my wife ; but sophistry and paradoxes are my mistresses — I have a strong
domestic respect for her, but for the other the passion due to a mistress.
" One, who agrees with every one for the pleasure of speaking their
sentiments for them — so fond of talking that he does not contradict only
because he can't wait to hear people out.
"A tripping casuist, who veers by others' breath, and gets on to in-
formation by tacking between the two sides— like a hoy, not made to go
straight before the wind.
" The more he talks, the farther he is off the argument, like a bowl
on a wrong bias.
" What are the affectations you chiefly dislike?
" There are many in this company, so I'll mention others. — To see two-
people: affecting intrigue, having their assignations in public places only :
lie, affecting a warm pursuit, and the lady, acting the hesitation of re-
160 MEMOIRS
treating virtue— 'Pray, ma'am, don't you think, etc.' — while neither
party have words between 'em to conduct the preliminaries of gallantry,
nor passion to pursue the object of it.
"A plan of public flirtation— not to get beyond a profile.
" Then I hate to see one, to whom heaven has given real beauty, set-
tling her features at the glass of fashion, while she speaks— not thinking
so much of what she says as how she looks, and more careful of the action
of her lips than of what shall come from them.
"A pretty woman studying looks and endeavouring to recollect an ogle,
like Lady , who has learned to play her eyelids like Venetian blinds ' .
"An old woman endeavouring to put herself back to a girl.
"A true trained wit lays his plan like a general— foresees the circum-
stances of the conversation— surveys the ground and contingencies — de-
taches a question to draw you into the palpable ambuscade of his ready-
made joke.
"A man intriguing, only for the reputation of it — to his confidential
servant : 'Who am I in love with now?' — The newspapers give you so
and so — you are laying close siege to Lady L. in the Morning Post, and
have succeeded with Lady G. in the Herald — Sir F. is very jealous of
you in the Gazetteer.' — 'Remember to-morrow, the first thing you do,
to put me in love with Mrs. C.'
" 'I forgot to forget the billet-doux at Brooks's.'— 'By the bye, an't I
in love with you?' — ' Lady L. has promised to meet me in her carriage
to-morrow — where is the most public place?'
" ' You were rude to her! ' — ' Oh no, upon my soul , I made love to
her directly.'
"An old man , who affects intrigue , and writes his own reproaches in
the Morning Post, trying to scandalise himself into the reputation of
being young, as if he could obscure his age by blotting his character —
though never so little candid as when he's abusing himself.
" 'Shall you be at Lady 's?— I'm told the Bramin is to be there,
and the new French philosopher.'— 'No — it will be pleasanter at Lady
's conversazione— the cow with two heads will be there.'
" 'I shall order my valet to shoot me the very first thing he does in
the morning.'
1 This simile is repeated in various shapes through his manuscripts — "She
moves her eyes up and down like "Venetian blinds" — " Her eyelids play like a
Venetian blind ," etc. etc.
OF R. B. SHERIDAN. 161
" 'You arc yourself affected and don't know it— you would pass for
morose.'
" He merely wanted to be singular, and happened to find the character
of moroseness unoccupied in the society he lived with.
" He certainly has a great deal of fancy and a very good memory ; but
with a perverse ingenuity he employs these qualities as no other person
doos — for he employs his fancy in his narratives , and keeps his recollec-
tions for his wit — when he makes his jokes , yon applaud the accuracy of
liis memory, and 'tis only when he states his facts, that you admire the
flights of his imagination '.
"A fat woman trundling into a room on castors — in sitting can onlv
lean agains't her chair — rings on her fingers, and her fat arms strangled
with bracelets, which belt them like corded brawn— rolling and heaving
when she laughs with the rattles in her throat, and a most apoplectic ogle
— you wish to draw her out , as you would" an opera-glass.
"A long lean man, with all his limbs rambling — no way to i*educc
him to compass, unless you could double him like a pocket rule — with
his arms spread, he'd lie on the bed of Ware like a cross on a Good Fri-
day bun— standing still , he is a pilaster without a base— he appears rolled
out or run up against a wall — so thin, that his front face is but the moiety
of a profile— if he stands cross-legged , he looks like a caduceus, and put
him in a fencing attitude, you would take him for a piece of chevaux-
de-frise — to make any use of him, it must be as a spontoon or a fishing-
rod— when his wife's by, he follows like a note of admiration— see them
together, one's a mast, and the other all hulk— she's a dome and he's built
like a glass-house — when they part, you wonder to see the steeple sepa-
rate from the chancel , and we're they to embrace , he must hang round
her neck like a skein of thread on a lace-maker's bolstei — to sing her
praise you should choose a rondeau, and to celebrate him you must write
all Alexandrines.
" I wouldn't give a pin to make fine men in love with me— every co-
quette can do that, and the pain you give these creatures is veiy trifling.
I love out-of-the-way conquests; and as I think my attractions are sin-
gular, I would draw singular objects.
" The loadstone of true beauty draws the heaviest substances— not like
Hie fat dowager, who frets herself into warmth to get the notice of a lew
papier macfie fops , as you rub Dutch sealing-wax to draw paper.
"If I were inclined to flatter, I would say that, as you are unlike other
women , you ought not to be won as they are. Every woman can be
gained by time, therefore you ought to l>c by a sudden impulse. Sighs,
devotion, attention weigh with others ; but they are so much your due,
i hat no one should claim merit from them. . . .
1 The reader will find how much lliis thonght was improved upon afrcrwaals.
II
162 MEMOIRS
•
" You should not be swayed by common motives — how heroic to form
a marriage for which no human being can guess the inducement — what
a glorious unaccountableness ! All the world will wonder what the devil
you could see in me; and, if you should doubt your singularity, I pledge
invself to you that I never yet was indured by woman ; so that I should
owe every thing to the effect of your bounty, and not by my own super-
fluous deserts make it a debt, and so lessen both the obligation and my
gratitude. lu short, every other woman follows her inclination, but you,
above all things, should take me, if you do not like me. You will, be-
sides, have the satisfaction of knowing that we are decidedly the worst
match in the kingdom — a match , too, that must be all your own work,
in which fate could have no hand, and which no foresight could foresee.
"A lady who affects poetry. — 'I made regular approaches to her bv
sonnets and rebusses— a rondeau of circumvallation — her pride sapped
bv an elegy, and her reserve surprised by an impromptu — proceeding to
storm with Pindarics, she, at last, saved the further effusion of ink by
a capitulalion.'
"Her prudish frowns and resentful looks areas ridiculous as 'twould
be to see a board with notice of spring-guns set in a highway, or of
steel-traps in a common — because they imply an insinuation that there
is something worth plundering where one would not, in the least, sus-
pect it.
''The expression of her face is at once a denial of all love-suit, and a
confession that she never was asked— the sourness of it arises not so much
from her aversion to the passion , as from her never having had an op-
portunity to show it. — Her features are so unfortunately formed that she
could never dissemble or put on sweetness enough lo induce any one to
give her occasion to show her bitterness. — I never saw a woman to whom
you would more readily give credit for perfect chastity.
"Lady Clio. 'What am I reading? '— ' have I drawn nothing latelv?
— is the work-bag finished? — how accomplished I am! — has the man
been to untune the harpsichord?— does it look as if I had been playing
on it?
" 'Shall I be ill to-day ?— shall I be nervous?' — 'Your La'ship was
nervous yesterday.' — 'Was I? — then I'll have a cold— I haven't had a
cold this fortnight— a cold is becoming — no —I'll not have a cough ; that's
fatiguing — I'll be quite well.' — 'You become sickness — your La'ship
always looks vastly well when you're ill.'
" 'Leave the book half read and the rose half finished— you know I
love to be caught in the fact.'
"One who knows that no credit is ever given to his assertions, has
the more right to contradict his words.
" He goes the western circuit , to pick up small fees and impudence.
OF R. B. SHERIDAN 163
fc' A new wooden leg for Sir Ch?rles Easy.
" An ornament which proud peers wear all the year round— chimney-
sweepers only on the first of May.
"In marriage if you possess any thing very good, it makes you eager
to get every thing else good of the same sort.
"The critic when he gets out of his carriage should always recollect,
that his footman behind is gone up to judge as well as himself.
"She might have escaped in her own clothes, but I suppose she
thought it more romantic to put on her brother's regimentals."
The rough sketches and fragments of poems , which Mr. Sheri-
dan left behind him , are numerous ^ but those among them that are
sufficiently finished to be cited , bear the marks of having been writ-
ten when he was very young , and would not much interest the
reader — while of the rest it is difficult to find four consecu-
tive lines , that have undergone enough of the toilette of com-
position to be presentable in print. It was his usual practice, when
he undertook any subject in verse , to write down his thoughts first
in a sort of poetical prose , — with , here and there, a rhyme or a
metrical line, as they might occur — and then, afterwards to reduce,
with much labour, this anomalous compound to regular poetry. The
birth of his prose being , as we have already seen , so difficult , it may
be imagined how painful was the travail of his verse. Indeed, the
number of tasks which he left unfinished are all so many proofs of
that despair of perfection , which those best qualified to attain it are
always the most likely to feel.
There are some fragments of an Epilogue , apparently intended to
be spoken in the character of a woman of fashion , which give a
lively notion of what the poem would have been, when complete.
The high carriages , that had just then come into fashion , are thus
adverted to : —
" My carriage stared at ! — none so high or fine —
Palmer's mail-coach shall be a sledge to mine.
No longer now the youths beside us stand,
And talking lean, and leaning press the hand ;
But , ogling upward , as aloft we sit ,
Straining , poor things, their ancles and their wit,
J64 MEMOIRS
And , inucli too short the inside to explore,
Hang like supporters half way up l''e door."
The approach of a "veteran husband," to disturb these flirtations
and chase away the lovers , is then hinted at : —
" To persecuted virtue yield assistance,
And for one hour teach younger men their distance,
Make them , in very spite , appear discreet ,
And mar the public mysteries of the street."
The affectation of appearing to make love , while talking on in-
different matters , is illustrated by the following simile :' —
" So when dramatic statesmen talk apart ,
With practised gesture and heroic start,
The plot's their theme, the gaping galleries guess ,
While Hull and Fearon think of nothing less."
The following lines seem to belong to the same Epilogue .
" The Campus Martius of St. James's Street ,
Where the beau's cavalry pace to and fro ,
Before they take the field in Rotten ttow ;
Where Brooks's Blues and Weltze's Light Dragoons
Dismount in files, and ogle in platoons."
He had also begun another Epilogue, directed against female
gamesters, of which he himself repealed a couplet or two to Mr. Ko~
gersa short time before his death , and of which there remain some
few scattered traces among his papers : —
" A night of fretful passion may consume
All that thou hast of beauty's gentle bloom ,
And one distemper' d hour of sordid fear
Print on thy brow the wrinkles of a year'.
Great figure loses , little figure wins.
Ungrateful blushes and disorder'd sighs,
Which love disclaims, nor even shame supplies.
Gay smiles, which once belong'd to mirth alone,
And starting tears , which pity dares not own."
The following stray couplet would seem to have been intended
for his description of Gorilla : —
" A crayon Cupid , redd'ning into shape,
Betrays her talents to design and scrape."
The Epilogue, which I am about to give , though apparently ti-
1 These four lines, as I have already remarked, are taken — with little change
of the words, but a total alteration of the sentiineut — from the verses which he
addressed to Mrs. Sheridan in the year 1773. Seu page 67
OF K. 15. SHKK1UAW. l«i>
nished, has not, as far as I can learn, yet appeared in print , nor am
I at all aware for what occasion it was intended.
• In tills gay month when , through the sultry Lour,
The vernal suu denies the wonted shower,
When youthful Spring usurps maturer sway,
And pallid April steals the blush of May,
How joys the rustic tribe, to view display'd
The liberal blossom aud the early shade !
But ah! far other air our soil delights ;
Here ' charming weather' is the worst of blights.
No genial beams rejoice our rustic train ,
Their harvest's still the better for the raiu.
To summer suus our groves no tribute owe,
They thrive iu frost , and flourish best in snow.
When other woods resound the feather'd throng ,
Our groves, our woods , are destitute of song.
The thrush , the lark , all leave our mimic vale ,
-N<> more we boast our Christmas nightingale ;
Poor Rosignol — the wonder of bis day,
Sung through the winter — but is mute in May.
Tben bashful spring , that gilds fair nature's scene ,
O'crcasts our lawns , and deadens every green ;
Obscures our sky, embrowns the wooden shade ,
And dries the channel of each tin cascade!
Oh hapless we , whom such ill fate betides ,
Hurt by the beam which cheers the world besides
Who love the liug'riug frost, nice chilling showers,
While Nature's Benefit — is death to ours ;
Who, witch-like , best iu noxious mists perform ,
Thrive in the tempest , aud enjoy the storm.
O hapless we — unless your generous care
Bids us no more lament that Spriug is fair,
But plenteous glean from the dramatic soil ,
The vernal harvest of our winter's toil.
For, April suns to u« no pleasure bring —
Your presence here is all we feel of Spring;
May's riper beauties here no bloom display —
Your fostering snlile alone proclaims it May.
A poem upon Windsor Castle, half ludicrous and half solemn ,
appears , from the many experiments which he made upon it , \lo
have cost him considerable trouble. The Castle , he says ,
" Its base a mountain , aud itself a rock ,
In proud defiance of the tempests' rage,
Like au old grey-hair'd veteran stands each shock—
The sturdy witness of a nobler age."
He then alludes to the " cockney1' improvements that had lately
taken place , among which the venerable castle appears , like
«' A helmet on a Macaroni's head —
Or like old Talbot, turn'd into a fop,
With r.>at rinhroidcr'd and scratch wig at top."
1«« MEMOIRS
Some verses , of the same mixed character, on the short duration
of life and the changes that death produces, thus begin :—
" Of that same tree which gave the box ,
Now rattling in the hand of FOX,
Perhaps his coffin shall be made.—"
He then rambles into prose , as was his custom , on a sort of
knight-errantry after thoughts and images : — " The lawn thou hast
chosen for thy bridal shift — thy shroud may be of the same piece.
That flower thou hast bought to feed thy vanity— from the same tree
thy corpse may be decked. Reynolds shall , like his colours , fly ;
and Brown , when mingled with the dust , manure the grounds he
once laid out. Death is life's second childhood ; we return to the
breast from whence we came , are weaned, * * *"
There are a few detached lines and couplets of a poem , intended
to ridicule some fair invalid , who was much given to falling in love
with her physicians : —
" Who felt her pulse, obtained her heart."
The following couplet, in which he characterises an amiable
friend of his, Dr. Bain, with whom h'e did not become acquainted
till the year 1792, proves these fragments to have been written after
that period : —
" Not savage * * * nor gentle BAIN —
She was in love with Warwick Lane."
An " Address to the Prince," on the exposed style of women's
dress, consists of little more than single lines , not yet wedded into
couplets j such as — " The more you show, the less we wish too see."
— "And bare their bodies, as they mask their minds," etc. This
poem , however, must have been undertaken many years after his
entrance into Parliament , as the following curious political memo-
randum will prove : — " I like it no belter for being from France —
whence all ills come— altar of liberty, begrimed at once with blood
and mire."
There are also some Anacreontics — lively, but boyish and extra-
vagant. For instance, in expressing his love of bumpers : —
" Were mine a goblet that had room
For a whole vintage in its womb,
I still would have the liquor swim
An inch or two above the brim."
The following specimen is from one of those poems , whose
length and completeness prove them to have been written at a time
of life when he was more easily pleased , and had not yet arrived at
that state of glory and torment for the poet , when
OF R. B. SHERIDAN. 167
*' Toujburs mecontent de ce qu'il vient de faire ,
11 plait a tout le monde , et ne saurait se plaire.'" —
" The Muses call'd , the other morning ,
On Phoebus , with a friendly warning
- That invocations came so fast,
They must give up their trade at last ,
And if he meant to' assist them all ,
The aid of Nine would be too small. ^
Me then , as clerk , the Council chose ,
To tell this truth in humble prose. —
But Phoebus , possibly intending
To show what all their hopes must end in ,
To give the scribbling youths a sample ,
And frighten them by my examplff,
• Bade me ascend the poet's throne ,
And give them verse — much like their own.
" Who has not heard each poet sing
The powers of Heliconian spring ?
Its noble virtues we are told
By all the rhyming crew of old. —
Drink but a little of its well ,
And straight you could both write and spell ,
While such rhyme-giving pow'rs run through it,
A quart would make an epic poet." etc. etc.
A poem on the miseries of a literary drudge begins thus promis-
ingly :—
" Think ye how dear the sickly meal is bought,
By him who works at verse and trades in thought ? "
The rest is hardly legible ; but there can be little doubt that he
would have done this subject justice ; — for he had himself tasted of
the bitterness with which the heart of a man of genius overflows,
when forced by indigence to barter away ( as it is here expressed )
" the reversion of his thoughts," and
" Forestall the blighted harvest of his braiii."
It will be easily believed that , in looking over the remains, both
dramatic and poetical, from which the foregoing specimens are taken,
I have been frequently tempted to indulge in much ampler extracts.
It appeared to me , however, more prudent , to rest satisfied with
the selections here given ; for , while less would have disappointed
the curiosity of the reader, more might have done injustice to the
memory of the author. •« •
'«« MEMOIRS
CHAPTER VIII.
His first speeches in Parliament. — Rockiugham administralion. —
Coalition.— India Bill.
THE period at which Mr. Sheridan entered upon his political
career was , in every respect , remarkable. A persevering and vin-
dictive war against America, with the folly and guilt of which the
obstinacy of the Court and the acquiescence of the people are equally
chargeable, was fast approaching that crisis , which every unbias-
sed spectator of the contest had long foreseen , — and at which ,
however humiliating to the Haughty pretensions of England, every
friend to the liberties of the human race rejoiced. It was , perhaps ,
as difficult for this country to have been long and virulently op-
posed to such principles as the Americans asserted in this contest,
without being herself corrupted by the cause which she maintained.
;;s it was for the French to have fought, in the same conflict, by
(he side of the oppressed, without catching a portion of that en-
Uiusiasm for liberty, which such an alliance was calculated to in-
spire. Accordingly , while the voice of Philosophy was heard
along the neighbouring shores, speaking aloud those oracular
warnings , which preceded the death of the Great Pan of Despotism,
Ihe courtiers and lawyers of England were, with an emulous spirit
»»f servility, advising and sanctioning such strides of power, as
would not have been unworthy of the most dark and slavish times.
When we reviews indeed , the history of .the late reign , and con-
sider how invariably the arms and councils of Great Britain, in her
Eastern wars , her conflict with America , and her efforts against
revolutionary France , were directed to the establishment and per-
uetualion of despotic principles , it seems little less than a miracle
I hat her own liberty should have escaped with life from the conta-
gion. Never, indeed , can she be sufficiently grateful to the few
patriot spirits of this period, to whose courage and eloquence she
owes the high station of freedom yet left to her; — never can her
sons pay a homage too warm to the memory of such men as a
Chatham, a Fox, and a Sheridan 5 who, however much they may
have sometimes sacrificed to false views of expediency, and, by
compromise with friends and coalition with foes , too often weak-
ened their hold upon public confidence ; however the attraction
of the Court may have sometimes made them librate in their orbit ,
were yet the saving lights of liberty in those times , and alone pre-
served the ark of the Constitution from foundering in the foul and
troubled waters that encompassed it.
Not only were the public events, in which Mr. Sheridan was
01* 11. ]]. SHERIDAN. t ICO
uo\\ called to lake a part, of a nature more extraordinary and awful
than had often been exhibited on the theatre of politics , but the
leading actors in the scene were of that loftier order of intellect ,
which \alurc seems to keep in reserve for the ennoblement of such
tircat occasions. Two of these , Mr. Burke- and Mr. Fox , were al-
ready in the full maturity of their fame and talent , — while the third,
Mr. Pitt, was just upon the point of entering , with the most auspi-
cious promise, into the same splendid career;
' • ~ ' . ' 't Nunc cuspide Patris
Inclytus , Herculeas olirn mature sagittas, "
Though the administration of that day, like many other ministries
of the same reign , was chosen more for the pliancy than the strength
of its materials , yet Lord North himself was no ordinary man , and,
in times of less difficulty and under less obstinate dictation , might
have ranked as a useful and most popular minister. It is true, as
the defenders of his measures state , that some of the worst aggres-
sions upon the rights of the Colonies had been committed before he
succeeded to power. But his readiness to follow in these rash foot-
steps , and to deepen every fatal impression which they had made ;
— his insulting reservation of the Tea Duty, by which he contrived
to embitter the only measure of concession that was wrung from
him ; — the obsequiousness , with which he made himself the chan-
nel of the vindictive feelings of the court, in that memorable de-
claration (rendered so truly mock heroic, by the event) that " a total
repeal of the Port duties could not be thought of, till America was
prostrate at the feet of England ; " — all deeply involve him in the
shame of that disastrous period, and identify his name with measures
as arbitrary and headstrong , as have ever disgraced the annals of
the English monarchy.
The playful wit and unvarying good-humour of this nobleman
formed a striking contrast to the harsh and precipitate policy, which
it was his lot , during twelve stormy years , to enforce : — and , if
his career was as headlong as the torrent near its fall, it may also
be said to have been as shining and as smooth. These attractive
qualities secured to him a considerable share of personal popularity;
and . had fortune ultimately smiled on his councils , success would,
as usual , have reconciled the people of England to any means ,
however arbitrary, by which it had been attained. But the calamities,
and , at last , the hopelessness of the cdnflict , inclined them to mo-
ralise upon its causes and character. The hour of Lord North's
ascendant was now passing rapidly away, and Mr. Sheridan could
not have joined the Opposition at a -conjuncture more favourable lo
the excitement of his powers , or more bright in the views which it
opened upon his ambition.
170 MEMOIRS
He made his first speech in Parliament on the 20th of November,
1780, when a petition was presented to the House, complaining of
the undue election of the sitting members (himself andMr.Monckton)
for Stafford. It was rather lucky for him that the occasion was one
in which he felt personally interested, as it took away much of that
appearance of anxiety for display , which might have attended his
first exhibition upon any general subject. The fame, however, which
he had already acquired by his literary talents , was sufficient , even
on this question , to awaken all the curiosity and expectation of his
audience ; and, accordingly , we are told in the report of his speech,
that " he was heard with particular attention, the House being un-
commonly still while he was speaking." The indignation, which
he expressed on this occasion at the charges brought by the petition
against the electors of Stafford , was coolly turned into ridicule by
Mr. Rigby, Paymaster of the forces. But Mr. Fox , whose eloquence
was always ready at the call of good-nature , and , like the shield
of Ajax, had " ample room and verge enough, to protect not only
himself but his friends, came promptly to the aid of the young
orator-, and, in reply to Mr. Rigby, observed , that " though those
ministerial members , who chiefly robbed and plundered their con-
stituents , might afterwards affect to despise them , yet gentlemen ,
who felt properly the nature of the trust allotted to- them, would
always treat them and speak of them with respect."
It was on this night, as Woodfall used to relate, that Mr. Sheri-
dan , after he had spoken , came up to him in the gallery, and asked,
with much anxiety, what he thought of his first attempt. The answer
of Woodfall , as he had the courage afterwards to own, was , " I am
sorry to say I do not think that this is your line — you had much
belter have stuck to your former pursuits." On hearing which, She-
ridan rested his head upon his hand for a few minutes , and then
vehernenlly exclaimed, " It is in me, however, and, by G— , it
shall come out."
It appears , indeed , that upon many persons besides Mr. Wood-
fall the impression produced by this first essay of his oratory was far
from answerable to the expectations that had been formed. The
chief defect remarked in him was a thick and indistinct mode of
delivery, which, though he afterwards greatly corrected it, was
never entirely removed.
It is not a little amusing to find him in one of his early speeches ,
gravely rebuking Mr. Rigby and Mr. Courtenay 1 for the levity
and raillery with which they treated the subject before the House,
. . -. i. .,: \
1 Feb. 26.— On the second reading of the Bill for the hetter regulation of His
Majesty's Civil List Revenue.
OF R. B. SHERIDAN. 171
— Ihus condemning the use of that weapon in other hands .
which soon after became so formidable in his own. The remarks
fay which Mr. Courlenay ( a gentleman , whose lively wit found
afterwards a more congenial air on the benches of Opposition ) pro-
voked the reprimand of the new senator for Stafford, are too humor-
ous to be passed over without, at least, a specimen of their spirit.
In ridiculing the conduct of the opposition , he observed : —
" Oh liberty! Oh virtue! Oh my country! had been the pathetic,
though fallacious cry of former Oppositions; but the present he was sure
acted on purer motives. They wept over their bleeding country, he had
no doubt. Yet the patriot "eye in a fine frenzy rolling" sometimes
deigned to cast a wishful squint on the riches and honours enjoyed by the
minister and his venal supporters. If he were not apprehensive of hazard-
ing a ludicrous allusion ( which he knew was always improper on a se-
rious subject) , he would compare their conduct to that of the sentimental
alderman in one of Hogarth's prints, who, when his daughter is expi-
ring, wears indeed a parental face of grkf and solicitude, but it is to
secure her diamond ring which he is dfawmg gently from her finger."
" Mr. Sheridan ( says the report ) rose and reprehended Mr. Courtenay
for turning every thing that passed into ridicule ; for having introduced
into the House a style of reasoning, in his opinion , every way unsuitable
to the gravity and importance of the subjects that came under their dis-
cussion. If they would not act with dignity , he thought they might , at
least, debate with decency. He would not attempt to answer Mr. Cour-
tenay's arguments , for it was impossible seriously to reply to what , in
every part, had an infusion of ridicule in it. Two of the honourable gentle-
man's similes , however, he must take notice of. The one was his having
insinuated that Opposition was envious of those who basked in court
sunshine ; and desirous merely to get into their places. He begged leave to
remind the honourable gentleman that, though the sun afforded a genial
warmth, it also occasioned an intemperate heat, that tainted and infected
every thing it reflected on. That this excessive heat tended to corrupt as
well as to cherish; to putrefy as well as to animate; to dry and soak up
the wholesome juices Of the body politic, and turn the whole of it into
one mass of corruption. If those, therefore, who sat near him did not
enjoy so genial a warmth as the honourable gentleman , and those who
like him kept close to the noble Lord in the blue ribbon , he was certain
they breathed a purer air, an air less infected and less corrupt."
This florid style, in which Mr. Sheridan was not very happy, he
but rarely used in his speeches afterwards.
The first important subject that drew forth any thing like a dis-
play of his oratory was a motion which he made on the 5lh of
March, 1781 , " For the better regulation of the Police' of West-
minster/' The chief object of the motion was to expose the un-
constitutional exercise of the prerogative that had been assumed ,
in employing the military to suppress the late riots , without wait-
ing for the authority of the civil power. These disgraceful riots.
17* MEMOIRS
which proved to what Chrislianly consequences Ihe cry of " No
Popery" may lead, had the effect, which follows all tumultuary
movements of the people , of arming the Government with new
powers, and giving birth to doctrines and precedents permanently
dangerous to liberty. It is a little remarkable that the policy of
blending the army with the people, and considering soldiers as citi-
zens , which both Montesquieu and Blackstone recommend as fa-
vourable lo freedom , should , as applied by Lord Mansfield on this
occasion , be pronounced , and perhaps with more justice , hostile
to it; — the tendency of such a practice being, it was said, lo
weaken lhat salutary jealousy, with which the citizens of a free slate
should ever regard a soldier, and thus familiarise theuseoflhis
dangerous machine , in every possible service lo which capricious
power may apply il. The opposition did not deny that (he measure
of ordering out Ihe military , and empowering their officers to act
at discretion without any reference to the civil magistrate, was,
however unconstitutional not o0y justifiable but wise, in a moment
of such danger. But the refusal of Ihe Minisler lo acknowledge Ihe
illegality of the proceeding by applying to the House for an Act of
Indemnity, and the transmission of Ihe same discrelionary orders lo
Ihe soldiery Ihroughoul the country where no such imminent neces-
sity called for it, were the points upon which the conduct of the
Government was strongly, and nol unjustly, censured.
Indeed , the manifest design of the Ministry, at this crisis, lo avail
themselves of the impression produced by Ihe riols , as a means of
extending the frontier of their power, and fortifying Ihe doctrines by
which they defended il , spread an alarm among Ihe friends of consli-
lulional principles , which the language of some of the advocates of
the Court was by no means calculaled lo allay. Among others, a Noble
Earl , — one of those awkward worshippers of power, who bring ri-
dicule alike upon their idol and themselves, — had the foolish effron-
tery, in the House of Lords, to eulogise the moderalion which His
Majesty had displayed, in not following the recent example of the
king of Sweden, and employing the sword , with which the hour of
difficulty had armed him, for the subversion of Ihe Constitution and
the eslablishmenl of despotic power. Though this was the mere
ebullition of an absurd individual , yet the bubble on Ihe surface
often proves the strength of the spirit underneath, and the public
•were justified by a combination of circumstances , in attributing
designs of the mosl arbitrary nature to such a Court and such an
Administration. Meetings were accordingly held in some of the prin-
cipal counties , and resolutions passed, condemning the late un-
constitutional employment of Ihe military. Mr. Fox had adverted to
il strongly at the opening of the Session, and it is a proof oftho
OF II. B. SHKR1DAN. 17-1
L-slimation in whichMr. Sheridan already stood with his parly , lhat
he was the person selected to faring forward a motion, upon a sub-
ject in which the feelings of the public were so much interested. In
Hie course of his speech he said : —
."If this doctrine was to be laid down, that the Crown could give
orders to the military to interfere , when , where, and for what length of
lime it pleases, then we might bid farewell to freedom. If this was tlic
l;i\\ , we should then be reduced to a military government of the very
worst species, in which we should have all the evils of a despotic state ,
without the discipline or the security- But we were given to understand ,
that we had the best protection against this evil , in the virtue , the mode-
ration , and the constitutional principles of the sovereign. IS'o man upon
earth thought with more reverence than himself of the virtues and mo-
deration of the sovereign ; but this was a species of liberty which he
trusted would never disgrace an English soil. The liberty that rested on
the virtuous inclinations of any one man , was but suspended despotism ;
the sword was not indeed upon their necks, but it hung by the small
and brittle thread of human will."
The following passage of this speech affords an example of that
sort of antithesis of epithet , which , as has been already remarked ,
was one of the most favourite contrivances of his style : —
" Was not the conduct of that man or men criminal , who had permit-
ted those Justices to continue in the commission ? Men of tried inability
and convicted deficiency I Had no attempt been made to establish some
more effectual system of police, in oi'der that we might still depend upon
the remedy of the bayonet, and that the military power might be called
in to the aid of contrived weakness and deliberate inattention ? "
One of the few inslances in which he ever differed with his friend ,
Mr. Fox, occurred during this session , upon the subject of a Bill
which the latter introduced for the Repeal of the Marriage Act , and
which he prefaced by a speech as characteristic of the ardour, the
simplicity, the benevolence and fearlessness of his disposition , as
any ever pronounced by him in public. Some parts , indeed , of this
remarkable speech are in a strain of feeling so youthful and roman-
tic , that they seem more fit to be addressed to one of those Parlia-
ments of Love , which were held during the times of Chivalry, than
to a grave assembly employed about the sober realities of life , and
legislating with a view to the infirmities of human- nature.
The hostility of Mr. Fox to the Marriage Act was hereditary, as
it had been opposed with eqifal vehemence by his father, on its first
introduction in 1753, when a debate not less memorable took place,
and when Sir Dudley Ryder, the Attorney general of the day, did
not hesitate to advance, as one of his arguments in favour of the
I Jill, that it would lend to keep the aristocracy of the country pure,
174 MEMOIRS
and prevent their mixture by intermarriage with the mass of the
people. However this anxiety for the "streams select "• of noble
blood , or views , equally questionable , for the accumulation of pro-
perty in great families, may have influenced many of those with
whom the Bill originated , — however cruel , too , and mischievous ,
some of its enactments may be deemed, yet the general effect which
the measure was intended to produce , of diminishing as much as
possible the number of imprudent marriages , by allowing the pilo-
tage of parental authority to continue till the first quicksands of
youth are passed, is, by the majority of the civilised world, acknow-
ledged to be desirable and beneficial. Mr. Fox, however, thought
otherwise , and though — " bowing ," as he said , " to the prejudices
of mankind,"— he consented to fix the. age at which young people
should be marriageable without the consent of parents , at sixteen
years for the woman and eighteen for the man , his own opinion
was decidedly for removing all restriction whatever, and for leaving
the " heart of youth ," which , in these cases, was " wiser lhan the
head of age," without limit or controul, to the choice which its own
desires dictated.
He was opposed in his arguments , not only by Mr. . Sheridan ,
but by Mr. Burke , whose speech on this occasion was found among
his manuscripts after his death , and is enriched , though short , by
some of those golden sentences , which he " scattered from his urn "
upon every subject that came before him '. Mr. Sheridan , for whose
opinions upon this subject the well-known history of his own mar-
riage must have secured no ordinary degree of attention, remarked
that—
"His honourable friend, who brought in the Bill, appeared not to be
aware that, if he carried the clause enabling girls to marry at sixteen, he
would do an injury to that liberty of which he had always shown himself
the friend , and promote domestic tyranny, which he could consider only
as little less intolerable than public tyranny. If girls were allowed to marry
at sixteen , they would , he conceived , be abridged of that happy free-
dom of intercourse , which modern custom had introduced between the
youth of both sexes ; and which was, in his opinion , the best nursery of
happy marriages. Guardians would, in I hat case, look on their wards
with a jealous eye , from a fear that footmen and those about them might
1 la alluding to Mr. Fox's too favourable estimate of the capability of very
young persons to choose for themselves, he pays the following tribute to his
powers: — "He is led into it by a natural and to him inevitable and real mistake,
that the ordinary race of mankind advance as fast towards maturity of judgment
and understanding as he has done." His concluding words are : — " Have mercy on
the yon th of both sexes; protect them from their ignorance and 'inexperience;
protect one part of life by the wisdom of another; protect them by the wisdom
of laws and the care of nature."
OF R- B. SHERIDA1N. m
take advantage of their tender years and immature judgment , and per-
suade them into marriage , as soon as they attained the age of sixteen."
It seems somewhat extraordinary that , during the very busy in-
terval which passed between Mr. Sheridan's first appearance in Par-
liament and his appointment under Lord Rockingham's administra-
tion in 1782, he should so rarely* have taken a part in the debates
that occurred — interesting as they were , not only from the import-
ance of the topics discussed , but from the more than usual anima-
tion now infused into the warfare of parties , by the last desperate
struggles of the Ministry and the anticipated triumph of the Oppo-
sition. Among the subjects , upon which he appears to have been
rather unaccountably silent , was the renewal of Mr. Burke's Bill
for the Regulation 'of the Civil List, — an occasion memorable as
having brought forth the maiden speech of Mr. Pitt , and witnessed
the first accents of that eloquence , which was destined , ere long ,
to sound , like the shell of Misenus, through Europe, and call kings
and nations to battle by its note. The debate upon the legality of
petitions from delegated bodies , in which Mr. Dunning sustained
his high and rare character of a patriot lawyer ; — the bold proposal
of Mr. Thomas Pitt, that the Commons should withhold the> sup-
plies , till pledges of amendment in the administration of public af-
fairs should be given ; — the Bill for the exclusion of Excise Officers
and Contractors from Parliament, which it was reserved for a Whig
Administration to pass ; — these and other great constitutional ques-
tions , through which Mr. Burke and Mr. Fox fought , side by side ,
lavishing at every step the inexhaustible ammunition of their intel-
lect, seem to have passed away without once calling into action the
powers of their new and brilliant auxiliary, Sheridan.
The affairs of Ireland , too , had assumed at this period , under
the auspices of. Mr. G rattan and the example of America , a character
of grandeur, as passing & it was bright , — but which will long be
remembered with melancholy pride by her sons , and as long recall
the memory of that admirable man , to whose patriotism she owed
her brief day of freedom , and upon whose name that momentary
sunshine of her sad history rests. An opportunity of adverting to the
events , which had lately taken place in Ireland , was afforded by
Mr. Fox in" a motion for the re-commitment of the Mutiny Bill;
and on this subject , perhaps , the silence of Mr. Sheridan may be
accounted for, from his reluctance to share the unpopularity at-
tached by his countrymen to those high notions of the supremacy
of England , which , on the great question of the independence of
the Irish Parliament, bo^thMr. Fox and Mr. Burke were known to
entertain '.
1 As the few benntiful sentences spoken by Burke On this occasion, in support
17<i MEMOIRS
Even .on the subject of the American war, which was now the
important point that called forth all the resources of attack and de-
fence on both sides , the co-operation of Mr. Sheridan appears lo
have beefl but rare and casual. The only occasions , indeed , con-
nected with this topic upon which I can trace him as having spoken
at any length , were the charges brought forward by Mr. Fox against
the Admiralty, for their mismanagement of the naval affoirs of 1781 ,
and the Resolution of censure on His Majesty's Ministers moved by
Lord John Cavendish. His remarks in the latter debate upon the two
different sets of opinions , by which ( as by the double soul , ima-
gined in Xenophon ) the speaking and the voting of Mr. Rigby were
actuated , are very happy :—
" The Right Hon. Gentleman , however, had acted in this day's debate
with perfect consistency. He had assured the House that he thought the
Noble Lord ought to resign his office ; and yet he would give his vote for
his remaining in it. In the same manner he had long declared, that he
thought the American war ought to be abandoned ; yet had uniformly
given his vole for its continuance He did not mean, however, to insi-
nuate any motives for such conduct ; — he believed the Right Hon. Gentle-
man to have been sincere; he believed that, as a member of Parliament,
as a Privy Counsellor , as a private gentleman , he had always detested tin-
American war as much as any man; but that he had never been able lo
persuade the Paymaster that it was a bad war; and unfortunately, in
whatever character he spoke, it was the Paymaster who always voted in
that House."
The infrequency of Mr. Sheridan's exertions upon the American
question combines with other circumstances to throw some doubts
upon an anecdote , which has been , however, communicated to me
as coming from an authority, worthy in every respect of the most
implicit belief. He is said to have received, towards the close of
this war, a letter from one of the leading^persons of the American
Government , expressing high admiration of his talents and political
principles , and informing hjm that the sum of twenty thousand
pounds had been deposited for him in the hands of a certain banker,
of his friend's motion, have been somewhat strangely omitted in the professed
Collection of all his Speeches, I shall give them here as they are reported in the
Parliamentary History: — " Mr. Burke said, so many and such great revolutions
had happened of late, that he was not much surprised to hear the Right Hon.
Gentleman (Mr. Jeukinson) treat the loss of the supremacy of this country over
Ireland as a matter of very little consequence. Thus, one star, and that the
brightest ornament of our orrery, having been suffered to be lost, those who
were accustomed to inspect and watch our political heaven ought not to wonder
that it should be followed by the loss of another.—
So star would -follow star, and light light ,
Till all was darkness and eternal night."
OF R. B. SHERIDAN. 177
as a mark of the value which the American people attached to his
services in the cause of liberty. To this Mr. S. returned an answer
( which, as well as the letter, was seen, it is said , by the person
with whom the anecdote originated ) full of the most respectful gra-
titude for the opinion entertained of his services, but begging leave
to decline a gift under such circumstances. That this would have
been the nature of his answer, had any such proposal occurred ,
tlie generally high tone of his political conduct forbids us to feel any
doubt , — but, with respect to the credibility of the transaction allo-
getheV, it is far less easy to believe that the Americans had so much
money to give , than that Mr. Sheridan should have been sufficiently
high-minded to refuse it.
Not only were the occasions very few and select , on which he
offered himself to the attention of the House at this period, but,
whenever he did speak , it was concisely and unpretendingly, with
the manner of a person who came to learn a new road to fame,—
not of one who laid claim to notice upon the credit of the glory he
brought with him. Mr. Fox used to say that he considered his con-
duct in this respect as a most striking proof of his sagacity and good
taste-, — such rare and unassuming displays of his talents being the
only effectual mode he could have adopted , to win on the attention
of his audience and gradually establish himself in their favour. He
had , indeed , many difficulties and disadvantages to encounter, of
which his own previous reputation was not the least. Not only did
he risk a perilous comparison between his powers as a speaker and
his fame as a writer, but he had also to contend with that feeling of
monopoly, which pervades the more worldly classes of talent , and
which would lead politicians to regard as an intruder upon their
craft , a man of genius thus aspiring to a station among them , with-
out the usual qualifications of either birth or apprenticeship to entitle
him to it ' . In an assembly too, whose deference for rank and pro-
perly is such as to render it lucky that these instruments of influence
are so often united with honesty and talent, the son of an actor and
proprietor of a theatre had , it must be owned , most fearful odds
1 There is an anecdote strongly illustrative of this observation , quoted by
Lord John Rnssel in his able and lively work "On the affairs of Earope from the
Peace of Utrecht." — Mr. Stecle (in alluding to Sir Thomas Hantner's opposition
to the Commercial Tre:ily in 1714) said, "I rise to do him honour" — on which
many members who had before tried to interrupt him, called ont 'Taller, Taller;'
and , as he went down the Hon.se, several said ' It is not so easy a thing to speak
in the House;' 'He fancies, because he can scribble, etc. etc.' — Slight circum-
stances, indeed, (adds Lord John,) but which show at once the indisposition of
the House to the Whig party, and the natural envy of mankind, long ago re-
marked bv Cicero, towards all who attempt to gain more than one kind of pre-
eminence.
12
178 MEMOIRS
against him , in entering into competition with the sons of Lord Hol-
land and Lord Chatham.
With the same discretion that led him to obtrude himself but
seldom on the House, he never spoke at this period but after careful
and even verbal preparation. Like most of our great orators at the
commencement of their careers , he was in the habit of writing out
his speeches before he delivered them ; and , though subsequently
he scribbled these preparatory sketches upon detached sheets , I
find that he began by using for this purpose the same sort of copy-
books, which he had employed in the first rough draughts of his
plays.
However ill the affairs of the country were managed by Lord
North, in the management of Parliament few ministers have been
more smoothly dexterous ; and through the whole course of those
infatuated measures, which are now delivered over, without appeal ,
to the condemnation of History, he was cheered along by as full and
triumphant majorities , as ever followed in the wake of ministerial
power. At length , however, the spirit of the people , that last and
only resource against the venality of parliaments and the obstinacy
of kings, was roused from its long and dangerous sleep by the un-
paralleled exertions of the Opposition leaders, and spoke out with
a voice, always awfully intelligible, against the men and the mea-
sures that had brought England lo the brink of ruin. The effect of
'his popular fooling soon showed itself in the upper regions. The
country-genllemen , those birds of political omen, whose migra-
tions are so portentous of a change of weather, began to flock in
numbers lo the brightening quarter of Opposition ; and, at last, Lord
North , after one or two signal defeats ( in spite even of which the
Court for some lime clung to him , as the only hope of its baffled ,
but persevering revenge ) , resigned Hie seals of office in the month
of March, 1782, and an entirely new administration was formed
under the promising auspices of the Marquis of Rockingham.
Mr. Sheridan, as might be expected, shared in the triumph of his
party, by being appointed one of the Under Secretaries of State ;
and, no doubt, looked forward to a long and improving tenure of
that footing in office which his talents had thus early procured for
him. But , however prosperous on the surface the complexion of tho
ministry might be , its intestine state was such as did not promise a
very long existence. Whiggism is a sort of political Protestantism ,
and pays a similar tax for the freedom of its creed , in the multipli-
city of opinions which thai very freedom engenders — while true
Toryism , like Popery, holding her children together by the one
common doctrine of the infallibility of the Throne, takes care to
repress any schism inconvenient to their general interest . and keeps
OF R. B. SHERIDAN. 179
them . at least for all intents and purposes of place-holding , unani-
mous.
Between the two branches of Opposition that composed the pre-
sent administration there were some very important , if not essential ,
differences of opinion. Lord Shelburne, the pupil and friend of Lord
Chatham , held the same high but unwise opinions, with respect to
the recognition of American independence , which " the swan-like
end " of that great man has consecrated in our imagination , how-
ever much our reason may condemn them. "Whenever," said Lord
Shelburne, " the Parliament of Great Britain shall acknowledge the
independence of America, from that moment the sun of England is
set for ever." With regard to the affairs of India , too , and the pu-
nishment of those who were accused of mismanaging them , the
views of the noble Lord wholly differed from those of Mr. Fox and his
followers — as appeared from the decided part in favour of Mr. Hast-
ings, which he took in the subsequent measure of the Impeachment.
In addition to these fertile seeds of disunion , the retention in the
cabinet of a person like Lord Thurlow, whose views of the Constitu-
tion were all through the wrong end of the telescope, and who did
not even affect to conceal his hostility to the principles of his col-
leagues , seemed such a provision , at starting , for the embarrass-
ment of the Ministry, as gave but very little hope of its union or
stability.
The only Speech, of which any record remains, as having been
delivered by Mr. Sheridan during his short official career., was upon
a motion made by Mr. Eden, the late Secretary for Ireland, " to
repeal so much of the Act of George I. as asserted a right in the King
and Parliament of Great Britain , to make laws to bind the Kingdom
of Ireland." This motion was intended to perplex the new ministers,
who , it was evident from the speech of Mr.»Fox on the subject, had
not yet made up their minds to that surrender of the Legislative Su-
premacy of Great Britain , which Ireland now, with arms in her
hands , demanded '. Mr. Sheridan concurred with the Honourable
Secretary in deprecating such a hasty and insidious agitation of the
question, but at the same lime expressed, in a much more unhesitat-
ing manner, his opinion of that Law of Subjection from which Ire-
land now rose to release herself: —
1 Mr. Fox, in his speech upon the Commercial Propositions of 1785, acknow-
ledged the reluctance thai was felt ai ihis period, in surrendering the power of
external or commercial legislation over Ireland: — "a power," he said, "which,
in their struggles for independence, the Irish had imprudently insisted on having
abolished, and which be had himself given up in compliance with ihe strong
pii-jndices of that nation, though with a reluctance that nothing but irresistible
necessity could have overcome."
ISO MEMOIRS
"If lie declared himself ( he said) so decided an enemy to the principle
of the Declaratory Law in question, which he had always regarded as a
tyrannous usurpation in this country, he yet could not but reprohate the
motives which influenced the present mover for its repeal — but, if the
House divided on it , he should vote with him."
The general sense of the House being against the motion , it was
withdrawn. But the spirit of the Irish nation had advanced too Tar
on its march, to be called back even by the most friendly voice. AH
that now remained for the ministers was to yield, with a confiding
frankness , what the rash measures of their predecessors and the
weakness of England had put it out of their power with safety to
refuse. This policy, so congenial to the disposition of Mr. Fox, was
adopted. His momentary hesitation was succeeded by such a prompt
and generous acquiescence in the full demands of the Irish Parlia-
ment , as gave all the grace of a favour to what necessity would , at
all events, have extorted — and , in the spirited assertion of the rights
of freemen on one side , and the cordial and entire recognition of
them on the other, the names of Grattan and Fox, in that memor-
able moment , reflected a lustre on each other which associates them
in its glory for ever.
Another occasion upon which Mr. Sheridan spoke while in office,
— though no report of his Speech has been preserved — was a motion
for a Committee to examine into the State of the Representation ,
brought forward by the youthful reformer, Mr. William Pitt, whose
/eal in the cause of freedom was at (hat time, perhaps , sincere, and
who little dreamed of the war he was destined to wage with it after-
wards. Mr. Fox and Mr. Sheridan spoke strongly in favour of (he
motion , while , in compliance with the request of the former ,
Mr. Burke absented himself from the discussion — giving the cause
of Reform , for once , a respite from the thunders of his eloquence,
like the sleep of Jove in Homer, which leaves the Greeks for the mo-
ment masters of the field *
Notwithstanding all this , however, the question was lost by a majo-
rity of 161 to 141.
Immediately on his accession to office , 31 r. Sheridan received the
following letter from his brother Charles Francis , who had been
called to the Irish bar in 1778 or 9, but was at this time practising as
a Special Pleader : —
" DEAR DICK , Dublin, March 17 , 1787.
" T am much obliged to you foryour early intelligence concerning tlie
1 " And , while the moment lasts of Jove's repose ,
Make victory theirs." COWI-ER.
OF R. B. SHERIDAN. 181
fate of the Ministry, and give you joy on the occasion, notwithstanding
your sorro\V for the departure of the good Opposition. I understand very
well what you mean by this sorrow — hut as you may be now in a situa-
tion in which you may obtain some substantial advantage for yourself,
for God's sake improve the opportunity to the utmost, and don't let
dreams of empty fame (of which you have had enough in conscience)
curn you away from your solid interests.
" I return you many thanks for Fox's letter. I mean for your intention
to make him write one — for as your good intentions always satisfy your
conscience , and that you seem to think the carrying them into execution
to be a mere trifling ceremony , as well omitted as not, your friends must
always take the will for the deed. I will forgive you, however, on con-
dition that you will for once in your life consider, that though the will
alone may perfectly satisfy yourself, your friends would be a little more
gratified if they were sometimes to see it accompanied by the deed -and
let me be I he first upon whom you try the experiment. If the people here
are not to share the fate of their patrons, but are suffered to continue in
the government of this country, 1 believe you will have it in your power,
as I am certain it will be in your inclination, to fortify my claims upon
them by recommendations from your side of the water, in such a manner
as to insure to me what I have a right to expect from them , but of which
I can have no certainty without that assistance. 1 wish the present people
may continue here, because I certainly have claims upon them , and con-
sidering the footing that Lord C and Charles Fox are on , a recom-
mendation from the latter would now have every weight, — it would be
draw ing a bill upon Government here, payable at sight, which they dare
not protest. So , dear Dick, I shall rely upon you that will really be done :
and , to confess the truth, unless it be done and that speedily, 1 shall
be completely ruined , for this damned annuity , payable to my uncle ,
plays the devil with me. If there is any intention of recalling the people
here, I beg you will let me know it as soon as possible, that I may take
my measures accordingly, — and I think I may rely upon you also that.
whoever comes ovej here as Lord I. 1, I shall not be forgot among
the number of those who shall be recommended to them.
" As to our politics here, I send you a newspaper, read the resolu-
tions of the volunteers, and you will be enabled to form some idea of the
spirit which at present pervades this country. A declaration of the inde-
pendency of our Parliament upon yours will certainly pass our House of
Commons immediately after the recess ; government here dare not ,
cannot oppose it ; you will see the volunteers have pledged their lives and
fortunes in support of the measure. The grand juries of every county have
followed their example, and Some of the staunchest friends of govern-
ment have been , much against their inclinations , compelled to sign the
most spirited Resolutions.
" A call of the House is ordered for the first Tuesday after the recess,
and circular letters from the Speaker worded in this remarkable manner,
" that the members do attend on that day as they tender the rights of
Ireland. " In short, nothing will satisfy the people but the most unequi-
vocal assertion of the total independence of the Irish legislatun Tlnv
Hame has been raised within this six weeks , and is entirely owing cithi-i
l»2 MEMOIRS
to the insidious design or unpardonable inattention of the late adininisr
tration , in including , or suffering to ,be included , the name of Ireland in
no less than five British statutes passed last sessions. People here were
ignorant of this till Grattan produced the five Acts to the House of Corn
inons , one of which Eden had been so imprudent as to publish in the
Dublin Gazette. Previous to this the general sense of the country was,
that the mere question of right should be suffered to sleep, provided the
exercise of the power claimed under it should never again be resorted to
in a single instance.
The sooner you repeal the tkh of G. I, the better; for, believe me,
nothing short of that can now preserve union and cordiality between the
two countries.
I hope my father and you are very good friends by this. I shall not be
able to send you the remaining 5o/. till October, as I have been disap-
pointed as to the time of payment of the money I expected to receive this
month. — Let me entreat you to write to me shortly a feu words. I beg
my love to Mrs. S. and Tom.
" I am , dear Dick ,
" Your very affectionate brother,
" C. F. SHERIDAN."
The expectations of the writer of this letter were not disappointed.
The influence of Mr. Sheridan , added to his own claims , procured
for him the office of Secretary of War in Ireland , — a situation ,
which the greater pliancy of his political principles contrived to
render a more permanent benefit to him than any that his Whig
brother was ever able to secure for himself.
The death of the Marquis of Rockingham broke up this short-
lived Ministry, which , during the four months of its existence, did
more perhaps for the principles of the Constitution, than any one
administration that England had seen since the Revolution. They
were betrayed , it is true , into a few awkward overflowings of
loyalty, which the rare access of Whigs to the throne may at once
account for and excuse : — and Burke , in particular , has left us a
specimen of his taste for extremes, in that burst of optimism with
which he described the King's message, as "the best of messages
lo the best of people from the best of kings.1' But these first effects of
the atmosphere of a court , upon heads unaccustomed to it , are na-
tural and harmless — Awhile the measures that passed during that
brief interval, directed against the sources of Parliamentary corrup-
tion , and confirmatory of the best principles of the Constitution
must ever be remembered to the honour of the party from which
they emanated. The exclusion of contractors from the House of
Commons — the disqualifications of revenue-officers from voting at
elections — the disfranchisement of corrupt voters at Cricklade , by
OF R. B. SHERIDAN. 183
which a second precedent ' N\;IS furnished towards thai plan of gra-
dual Reform, which has, in our own lime , been so forcibly re-
commended by Lord John Russel— the diminution of Iho patronage
of the Crown. b> Mr. lUnke s celebrated Bill* — the return to the
old constitutional practice 3 of making the revenues of UK- Crown
pa\ olT their own incumbrances , which salutary principle was again
lost in the hands of Mr. Pitt — the atonement at last made to the vio-
lated rights of electors, by the rescinding of the Resolutions relative
to'Wilkes— the frank and cordial understanding entered into with
Ireland , which identiiies the memory of Mr. Fox and this ministry
w'Hh the only oasis in the whole desert of Irish history — so many
and such important recognitions of the best principles of Whiggism,
followed up, as they were, by the Resolutions of Lord John Ca-
vendish at the close of the Session , pledging the ministers to a per-
severance in the same task of purificntion and retrenchment, give
an aspect to this short period of the annals of the late reign , to
which the eye turns for relief from the arbitrary complexion of the
rest \ and furnish us with , at least , one consoling instance , where
the principles professed by statesmen when in opposition , were re-
tained and sincerely acted upon by them in power.
On the death of the Marquis of Rockingham , Lord Shelburne ,
without, as it appears, consulting any of the persons attached to
that nobleman , accepted the office of first Lord of the Treasury ; in
consequence of which Mr. Fox , and the greater number of his
friends— among whom were Mr. Burke and Mr. Sheridan — sent in
their resignations-, while General Cohway, the Duke of Richmond,
and one or two other old allies of the parly, remained in office.
To a disposition so social as that of Mr. Fox , the frequent inter-
ruptibn arid even loss of friendships, which he had to sustain in the
course of his political career, must have been a sad alloy to its plea-
sure and its pride. The fable of the sheep that leaves its fleece on the
bramble bush is but loo apt an illustration of the fate of him, who
thus sees himself stripped of the comforts of friendship by the tena-
cious and thorny hold of politics. On the present occasion, how-
ever, the desertion of his standard by a few 'who had followed Him
cordially in his ascent to power, but did not show the same alacrity
in accompanying his voluntary fall , was amply made up to him by
the ready devotion , with which the rest of the party shared his for-
1 The first was that of (he borough of Shoreham in 1771.
* This Kill, though its circle of retrenchment was, as might be expected v con
si«leralih nan-ownl, when the Treasury ttench became the centre from which he
<le.icril>rd it, wa.-> yet eminently useful , as an acknowledgment from ininisli-i i;«l
nnli,, riiy of ihe necessity of such occasional curtailment* of the Koyal inflaeiioe.
1 Kirst clvparted from in 17(i!). Sec liurke\s powerful exposure of llu- mitc-hief*
'-I this innovation, in his "Thoughts ou the Cause* <>l tin- PH-MMI' Di.-conlculs,'
184 MEMOIRS
tunes. The disinterestedness of Sheridan was the more meritorious ,
if , as there is every reason to believe , be considered the step of
resignation at such a moment to be, at least, hasty, if not wholly
wrong. In this light it was, indeed , viewed by many judicious per-
sons at the time , and the assurances given by the Duke of Rich-
mond and General Conway, of the continued adherence of the ca-
binet to the same principles and measures, to which they were
pledged at the first formation of the ministry, would seem to confirm
the justice of the opinion. So much temper, however, had , during
the few months of their union, been fermenting between the two
great masses of which the administration was composed , that it
would have been difficult , if not impossible , for the Rockingham
party to rally, with any cordiality, round Lord Shelburne, as a
leader — however they might still have been contented to co-operate
with him , had he remained in the humble station which he himself
had originally selected. That noble Lord , loo, who felt that the sa-
crifice which he had considerately made , in giving up the supre-
macy of station to Lord Rockingham , had , so far from being duly
appreciated by his colleagues , been repaid only with increased alie-
nation and distrust , could hardly be expected to make a second
surrender of his advantages, in favour of persons \vho had, he
thought , so ungraciously requited him for the first. In the mean
lime the Court, to which the Rockingham parly was odious, had,
with its usual policy, hollowed the ground beneath them , so as to
render their footing neither agreeable nor safe. The favourite object
in that quarter being to compose a ministry of those convenient in-
gredients , called ^ King's friends," Lord Shelburne was but made
use of as a temporary inslrumenl , to clear away, in the first place,
the chief obstacles to such an arrangement , and then , in his turn ,
be sacrificed himself as soon as a more subservient system could be
organised. It was , indeed , only upon a strong representation from
his Lordship of the impossibility of carrying on his government
against such an Opposition , without the infusion of fresh and po-
pular talent , that the royal consent was obtained to the appointment
of 3Ir. Pitt — the memory of whose uncompromising father, as well
as the first achievements on his own youthful shield , rendered him
no very promising accession to such a scheme of government , as
was evidently then contemplated by the Court.
In this slate of affairs , the resignation of Mr. Fox and his friends
was but a prompt and spirited anticipation of what must inevitably
have taken place , under circumstances much less redounding to the
credit of their independence and disinterestedness. There is little
doubt, indeed, that with the great majority of the nation , Mr. Fox
by this step considerably added to his popularity — and , if ^e w ere
OF R. B. SHERIDAN 18.r»
desired to point out the meridian moment of his fame , we should fix
it perhaps at (his splendid epoch , before the ill-fated Coalition had
damped the confidence of his friends , or the ascendancy of his great
rival had multiplied the number of his enemies.
There is an anecdote of Mr. Burke , connected with this period ,
the credibility of which must be left to the reader's own judgment.
11 is said that, immediately upon the retirement of Mr. Fox, while
Lord John Cavendish ( whose resignation was for a short lime de-
layed by the despatch of some official business), was still a minister,
Mr. Burke , with a retrospect to the sweets of office which showed
that he had not wholly left hopfc behind , endeavoured to open a ne-
gotiation through the medium of Lord John , for the purpose of pro-
curing , by some arrangement , either for himself or his son , a Tel-
lership then in the possession of a relative of LordOrford. It is but
fair to add, that this curious anecdote rests chiefly upon the autho-
rity of the latter nobleman *. The degree of faith it receives will,
therefore , depend upon the balance that may be struck in our com-
parative estimate between the disinterestedness of Burke and the ve-
racity of Lord Or ford.
At the commencement of the following session that extraordinary
Coalition was declared, which had the ill-luck attributed to the con-
junction of certain planets , and has shed an unfavourable influence
over the political world ever since. Little is, I believe, known. of
the private negotiations that led to this ill-assorted union of parties ;
but, from whichever side the first advances may have come, the
affair seems to have been despatched with the rapidity of a Siamese
courtship-, and while to Mr. Eden (afterwards Lord Auckland) is
attributed the credit of having gained Lord North's consent to the
union , Mr. Burke is generally supposed to have been the person
who sung the." Hymen, oh Hymena3e," in the ears of Mr. Fox.
With that sagacity, which in general directed his political views,
Mr. Sheridan foresaw all the consequences of such a defiance of
public opinion , and exerted , it is said , the whole power of his per-
suasion and reasoning , to turn aside his sanguine and uncalculating
friend from a measure so likely to embarrass his future career.
Unfortunately, however, the advice was not taken , — and a person ,
who witnessed the close of a conversation , in which Sheridan had
been making a last effort to convince Mr. Fox of the imprudence of
the step he was about to lake , heard the latter, at parting , express
liis final resolution in the following decisive words : — " II is as
fixed as the Hanover succession."
To the general principle of Coalitions , and the expediency and
1 Unpublished I'apcts.
I8fi MEMOIRS
even duty of forming them , in conjunclures that require and justify
such a sacrifice oflhe distinctions of party, no objection, it appears to
me, can rationally be made by those who are satisfied with the manner
in which the Constitution has worked, since the new modification
of its machinery introduced at the Revolution. The Revolution
itself was, indeed, brought about by a Coalition , in which Tories,
surrendering their doctrines of submission , arrayed themselves by
the side of Whigs , in defence of their common liberties. Another
Coalition , less important in its object and effects, but still attended
with results most glorious to the country, was that which look place
in the year 1757, when , by a union of parties from whose dis-
sension much mischief had flowed, the interests of both king and
people were reconciled, and the good genius of England triumphed
at home and abroad.
On occasions like these , when the public liberty or safety is in
peril , it is the duty of every honest statesman to say, with the Roman ,
" JVon me impedient privates offensiories , quo minus pro reipu-
bliccc , salute ctiani cum inimicissimo consentiam." Such cases,
however, but rarely occur ; and they have been in this respect ,
among others , distinguished from the ordinary occasions, on which
the ambition or selfishness of politicians resorts to such unions, that
the voice of the people has called aloud for them in the name of the
public weal ; and that the cause round which they have rallied has
be-on sufficiently general , to merge al! party titles in the one un-
dislinguishing name of Englishman. By neither of these tests can the
junction between Lord North and Mr. Fox be justified. The people
at large , so far from calling for this ill-omened alliance , would on
the contrary — to use the language of Mr. Pill — have '" forbid the
banns ; " and . though it is unfair to suppose that the interests of the
public did not enter into the calculations of the united leaders , yet .
if Ihe real watchword of their union were to be demanded of them
in " the Palace of Truth ,"' there can be little doubt that the answer
of each would be, distinctly and unhesitatingly, " Ambition.1'
One of the most specious allegations in defence of the measure
is , thai the extraordinary favour which Lord Shelburne enjoyed at
courl, and the arbitrary tendencies known to prevail in that quarter,
portended just then such an overflow of Royal influence , as il was
necessary to counteract by this double embankment of party. In the
first place , however, il is by no means so certain that the noble
minister al Ihis period did actually enjoy such favour. On the con-
trary, there is every reason to believe that his possession of the Royal
confidence did not long survive that important service , to which he
was made instrumental , of clearing the cabinet of the Whigs } and
that, like the bees of Virgil , he had left the soul of his own power in
OF R. B. SHERIDAN. li|7
the wound which he had been the means of inflicting upon that of
others. In the second place, whatever might have been the designs
of the Court , — and of ils encroaching spirit no doubt can be enter-
tained , — Lord Shelburne had assuredly given no grounds for ap-
prehending , that he would ever, like one of the chiefs of this com-
bination against him , be brought to lend himself precipitately or
mischievously to ils views. Though differing from Mr. Fox on some
important points of policy, and following the example of his friend ,
Lord Chatham , in keeping himself independent of Whig confedera-
cies , he was not Hie less attached to the true principles of that
parly, and , throughout his whole political career, invariably main-
tained them. This argument, therefore , — the only plausible one in
defence of the Coalition , — fails in the two chief assumptions on
which it is founded.
It has been truly said of Coalitions , considered abstractedly, that
such a union of parties, when the public good requires it, is to be
justified on the same grounds on which party itself is vindicated.
But the more we feel inclined to acknowledge the utility of party,
the more we must dread and deprecate any unnecessary compromise,
by which a suspicion of unsoimdness may be brought upon the
agency of so useful a principle — the more we should discourage , as
a matter of policy, any facility in surrendering those badges of opi-
nion , on which the eyes of followers are fondly fixed, and by which
their confidence and spirit are chiefly kept alive — the more, too,
we must lament that a great popular leader, like Mr. Fox, should
ever have lightly concurred in such a confusion of the boundaries
of opinion , and , like that mighty river, the Mississippi , whose
waters lose their own colour in mixing with those of the Missouri ,
have sacrificed the distinctive hue of his own political creed , to this
confluence of interests with a party so totally opposed to it.
" Court and country," says Hume ', "which are the genuine
offspring of the British government , are a kind of mixed parties ,
and are influenced both by principle and by interest. The heads of
the factions arc commonly most governed by the latter motive \ the
inferior members of them by the former." Whether this be altogether
true or not, it will , at least , without much difficulty, be conceded ,
that the lower we descend in the atmosphere of party, the more
quick and inflammable we find the feeling that circulates through it.
Accordingly , actions and professions , which , in that region of in-
difference , high life , may be forgotten as soon as done or uttered ,
become recorded as pledges and standards of conduct , among |,hc
lower and more earnest adherents of the cause \ and many a question ,
K.ssay "OH the P.-srties of Great Britain."
188 MEMOIRS
lhat has ceased to furnish even a jest in the drawing-rooms of the
great, may be still agitated, as of vital importance, among the
humbler and less initiated disputants of the party. Such being the
tenacious nature of partisanship, and such the watch kept upon
every movement of the higher political bodies , we can well imagine
what a portent it must appear to distant and unprepared observers ,
when the stars to which they trusted for guidance are seen to " shoot
madly from their spheres," and not only lose themselves for the
time in another system , but unsettle all calculations with respect
to their movements for the future.
The steps by which , in general , the principals in such transac-
tions are gradually reconciled to their own inconsistency — the ne-
gotiations that precede and soften down the most salient difficulties
— the value of the advantages gained , in return for opinions sacri-
ficed—the new points of contact brought out by a change of cir-
cumstances , and the abatement or extinction of former differences ,
by the remission or removal of the causes lhat provoked them ,— all
these conciliatory gradations and balancing adjustments , which to
those who are in the secret may account for, and more or less
justify, the alliance of statesmen who differ in their general views of
politics , are with difficulty, if at all , to be explained to the remote
multitude of the party, whose habit it is to judge and feel in the
gross , and who , as in the case of Lord North and Mr. Fox , can see
only the broad and but too intelligible fact, that the leaders for whom
both parties had sacrificed so much — those on one side their interest,
and those on the other, perhaps , their consciences — had deserted
them to patch up a suspicious alliance with each other, the only
open and visible motive to which was the spoil that it enabled them
to partition between them.
If, indeed , in lhat barter of opinions and interests , which must
necessarily lake place in Coalitions between the partisans of Ihe
People and of Ihc Throne , Ihe former had any thing like an equality
of chance, the mere probability of gaining thus any concessions in
favour of freedom might justify to sanguine minds the occasional
risk of the compromise. But it is evident thai Ihe result of such
bargains must generally be to the advanlage of the Crown — the al-
luvions of power all naturally tend towards lhat shore. Besides ,
w here there are places as well as principles to be surrendered on one
side, there must in return be so much more of principles given up
on the other, as will constitute an equivalent to this double sacrifice.
The centre of gravity will be sure to lie in that body which contains
within it the source of emoluments and honours, and the oilier will
be forced to revolve implicitly round it.
The only occasion at this period on which Mr. Sheridan seems to
Ol R. B. SHERIDAN. 189
have alluded to the Coalition , was during a speech of some length
on the consideration of the Preliminary Articles of Peace. Finding
himself obliged to advert to the subject, he chose rather to recri-
minate on the opposite party for the anomaly of their own alliances,
than to vindicate that which his distinguished friend had just formed,
and which, in his heart , as has been already stated, he wholly dis-
approved. The inconsistency of the Tory Lord Advocate (Dundas)
in connecting himself with the patron of Equal Representation ,
Mr. Pitt, and his support of that full recognition of American in-
dependence , against which, under the banners of Lord North , he
had so obstinately combated , afforded to Sheridan's powers of rail-
lery an opportunity of display , of which , there is no doubt , he
\\ilh his accustomed felicity availed himself. The reporter of the
s[>eech , however, has , as usual , contrived , with an art near akin
to that of reducing diamonds to charcoal : to turn all the brilliancy
of his wit into dull and opake verbiage.
It was during this same debate , that he produced that happy re-
tort upon Mr. Pitt, which, for good-humoured point and season-
ableness , has seldom , if ever, been equalled.
"Mr. Pitt (say the Parliamentary Reports) was pointedly severe on
the gentlemen who had spoken against the Address, and particularly on
Mr. Sheridan. ' No man admired more than he did the abilities of that
Right Honourable Gentleman, the elegant sallies of his thought, the
gay effusions of his fancy , his dramatic turns and his epigrammatic point ;
and if they were reserved for the proper stage, they would, no doubt,
receive, what the Honourable Gentleman's abilities always. did receive,
tlie plaudits of the audience; and it would be his fortune ' sui plausu
^audcre tlieatri? But this was not the proper scene for the exhibition of
I hose elegancies.' Mr. Sheridan, in rising to explain, said that ' On the
particular sort of personality wbich the Right Honourable Gentleman had
thought 'proper to make use of, he need not make any comment. The
propriety, the taste, the gentlemanly point of it, must have been obvious
to the House. But , said Mr. Sheridan, let me assure the Right Honour-
able Gentleman, that I do now, and will at any time he chooses to re-
peat this sort of allusion , meet it with the most sincere good-humour
Nay, I will say more— flattered and encouraged by the Right Honourable
Gentleman's panegyric on my talents, if ever I again engage in tbe com-
positions he alludes to , I may be tempted to an act of presumption — to
attempt an improvement on one of Ben Jonson's best characters, tbe
character of the Angry Boy in the Alchymist. '"
Mr. Sheridan's connection with the stage , though one of the
most permanent sources of his glory, was. also a point, upon which,
al the commencement of his political career , his pride was most
easily awakened and alarmed. He, himself, used to tell of the fre-
quent mortifications which he had suffered , when at school , from
190 MEMOIRS
taunting allusions lo his father's profession — being called by some
of his school-fellows " the player-boy," etc. Mr. Pitt had therefore
selected the most sensitive spot for his sarcasm ; and the good tem-
per as well as keenness, with which the thrust was returned, must
have been felt even through all that pride of youth and talent, in
which the new Chancellor of the Exchequer was trvin enveloped.
There could hardly, indeed, havebeen a much greater service ren-
dered lo a person in the situation of Mr. Sheridan, than thus afford-
ing him an opportunity of silencing, once for all, a battery to
which this weak point of his pride was exposed , and by which he
might otherwise have been kept in continual alarm. This gentleman-
like retort, combined with the recollection of his duel, tended to
place him for the future in perfect security against any indiscreet
lamperings with his personal history J.
In the administration , that was now forced upon the court by
the Coalition, Mr. Sheridan held the office of Secretary of the Trea-
sury— the other Secretary being Mr. Richard Burke, the brother of
the orator. His exertions in the House , while he held this office ,
Avere chiefly confined to financial subjects , for which he , perhaps ,
at this lime, acquired the tasle, that tempted him afterwards, upon
most occasions , to bring his arithmetic into the iield against Mr. Pitt.
His defence of the Receipt Tax, — which , like all other long-lived
taxes , was born with difficulty, — appears, as far as we can judge of
it from the Report, to have been highly amusing. Some country-
gentleman having recommended a lax upon grave-stones as a substi-
tute for it, Sheridan replied that
1 The following /e.7 d'csprit, written by Sheridan himself, upon this occur-
rence, has been found among his manuscripts :
" ADVERTISEMENT EXTRAORDINARY.
" We hear that, in consequence of ahint, lately given in the House of Com-
mons, the Play of the Alchytnist is certainly to be performed by a set of Gentle-
men for our diversion, in a private apartment of Buckingham House.
" The Characters, thus described in the old editions »>f Ben Jonson, are to be
represented in the following manner — the old practice of men's playing the female
parts being adopted : —
" SUBTLE ( the Alchfmist) Lord Sh — Ib — e.
FACE (the House-keeper) The Lord Ch — 11 — or.
DOLL COMMON (their Colleague}. . The L — d Adv — c — te.
DRUGGER (a Tobacco- man ). .... Lord Eff— ng — m.
EPICURE MAMMON Mr. R — gby.
TRtncLATtON ' Dr J — nk — s — n.
ANANIAS (a little Pastor) . Mr. H — 11.
• K ASTRII.I, ( the Angry Hoy) Mr. W- P— tt.
DAME PLIANT Gen. C — nw — y.
and
SURLY His ."
OF R. B. SHERIDAN. 19 1
" Such a t:i\ , in. 1ml , \\as not easily evaded, and could not lie deemed
oppressive , as il would onlv he once paid; hut so great was the spirit of
clamour against any tax on receipts, that he should not wonder if it
extended to them ; and that it should he asserted, that persons having
paid the last deht, — the deht of nature, — government.had resolved they
should pay a receipt-tax, and have it stamped over their grave. Nay,
with so extraordinary a degree of inveteracy were some Committees in
the city, and elsewhere, actuated, that if a receipt-tax of the nature in
question was enacted , he should not he greatly surprised if it were soon
after puhlished, that such Committees had unanimously resolved that
they would never he buried, in order to avoid paying the tax; hut had
determined to lie above ground, or have their ashes consigned to family-
urns, in the manner of the ancients."
Ho also look an active share in Ihe discussions relative to the res-
toration of Powell and Bembridge to their office by Mr. Burke : —
a transaction which , without fixing any direct stigma upon that
eminent man , subjected him , at least , to the unlucky suspicion of
being less scrupulous in his notions of official purity, than became
the party which he .espoused or the principles of Reform, that he
inculcated.
Little as the Court was disposed, during the lale reign, to retain
Whigs in its service any longer than was absolutely necessary, it
must be owned that neither did the latter, in general, lake very cour-
ier-like modes of continuing their connection with Royally, but
rather chose to meet the hostility of the Crown halfway, by some
overt act of imprudence or courage , which at once brought the
matter to an issue between them. Of this hardihood the India Bill
of Mr. pox was a remarkable example— and he was himself fully
aware of the risk which he ran in proposing it. " He knew, " he
said, in his speech upon first bringing forward Jhe question, " that
the task he had that day set himself was extremely arduous and dif-
ficult ; he knew that he had considerable risk in it ; but when he took
upon himself an office of responsibility , he had made up his mind
In the situation and the danger of it."
Without agreeing w ith those who impute to Mr. Fox the extra-
vagant design of investing himself, by means of this Bill, with a
sort of perpetual Whig Dictatorship, independent of the will of the
Crown . it must nevertheless be allowed that , together with the inte-
rests of India , which were the main object of this decisive measure,
the future interest and influence of his own party were in no small
di-finr provided for ; and that a foundation was laid by it for their
attainment of a more steady footing in power than , from the indis-
position of the Court towards them , they had yet been able la ac-
complish, Regarding—as he well might, after so long an experience
of Tory misrule — a government upon Whig principles as essential
192 MEMOIRS
lo the true interests of England , and hopeless of seeing the experiment
at all fairly tried, as long as the political existence of the servants of the
Crown was left dependent upon the caprice or treachery of their mas-
ter, he would naturally welcome such an accession lo Ihe influence of
the parly, as might strengthen Iheir claims to power when out of office,
and render their possession of it, when in, more secure and useful.
These objects the Bill in question would have , no doubt , effected.
By turning the Pactolus of Indian patronage into the territories of
Whiggism , it would have attracted new swarms of settlers to that
region — the Court would have found itself outbid in the market , —
and, however the principles of the party might eventually have
fared , the party itself would have been so far triumphant. It was
indeed, probably, the despair of ever obtaining admission for Whig-
gism , in its unalloyed state , into the councils of the sovereign, that
reconciled Mr. Fox to the rash step of debasing it down to the
Court standard by the Coalition — and, having once gained posses-
sion of power by these means , he saw, in the splendid provisions of
the India Bill , a chance of being able to transmit it as an heir-loom
to his parly, which , though conscious of the hazard , he was deter-
mined lo try. If his intention, therefore, was , as his enemies say,
to establish a Dictatorship in his own person , it was , at the worst ,
such a Dictatorship as the Romans sometimes created , for the pur-
pose of averting Ihe plague— and would have been directed merely
against that pestilence of Toryism, under which the prosperity of
England had , he thought , languished so long.
It was hardly, however, lo be expected of Royalty, — even after
the double humiliation which it had suffered , in being vanquished
by rebels under one branch of the Coalition , and brow-beaten into
acknowledging Iheir independence by the other— that it would
tamely submit to such an undisguised invasion of its sanctuary ; par-
ticularly when the intruders had contrived their operations so ill ,
as to array the people in hostility against them, as well as the
Throne. Never was there an outcry against a ministry so general
and decisive. Dismissed insultingly by the King on one side , they
had to encounter the indignation of the people on the other 5 and ,
though the House of Commons , with a fidelity to fallen ministers
sufficiently rare , stood by them for a time in a desperate struggle
with their successors , the voice of the Royal Prerogative , like Ihe
horn of Astolpho, soon scattered the whole body in consternation
among their constituents, " di qua , di la, di su , di #m," and
the result was a complete and long-enjoyed triumph to the Throne
and Mr. Pitt.
Though the name of Mr. Fox is indissolubly connected with this
Bill , and though he bore it aloft , as fondly as Caesar did his own
OF R. B. SHERIDAN. 193
Commentaries, through all this troubled sea of opposition , it is to
Mr. Burke that the first daring outline of the plan , as well as the
chief materials for filling it up, are to be attributed, — whilst to Sir
Arlhur Pigofs able hand was entrusted the legal task of drawing the
Kill. The intense interest which Burke took in the affairs of India
had led him to lay in such stores of information on the subject , as
naturally gave him the lead in all deliberations connected with it.
His labours for the Select Committee , the Ninth Report of which is
pregnant with his mighty mind , may be considered as the source
and foundation of this Bill — while of the under-plot , which had in
view the strengthening of the Whig interest , we find the germ in
his "Thoughts on the present Discontents," where, in pointing
out the advantage to England of being ruled by such a confederacy,
he says , " in one of the most fortunate periods of our history, this
country was governed by a connection ; 1 mean the great connection
of Whigs in the reign of Queen Anne."
Burke was , indeed, at this lime the actuating spirit of the party
— as he must have been of any party to which he attached himself.
Keeping , as he did , the double engines of his genius and his indus-
Iry incessantly in play over the minds of his more indolent collea-
gues, with an intentness of purpose that nothing could divert, and
an impetuosity of temper that nothing could resist , it is not wonder-
ful that he should have gained such an entire mastery over their
wills, or that the party who obeyed him should so long have exhi-
bited the mark of his rash spirit imprinted upon their measures.
The yielding temper of Mr. Fox, together with his unbounded ad-
miration of Burke led him easily, in the first instance, to acquiesce
in the views of his friend, and then the ardour of his own nature ,
and the self-kindling power of his eloquence , threw an earnestness
and fire into his public enforcement of those views, which made
even himself forget that they were but adopted from another, and
impressed upon his hearers the conviction that they were all, and
from the first, his own.
We read his speeches in defence of the India Bill with a sort of
breathless anxiety, which no other political discourses , except those,
perhaps, of Demosthenes , could produce. The importance of the
stake which he risks — the boldness of his plan— the gallantry with
which he flings himself into the struggle , and the frankness of
personal feeling that breathes throughout— all throw around him
an interest , like that which encircles a hero of romance ; nor could
the most candid autobiography that ever was written exhibit the
whole character of the man more transparently through it.
The death of this ill-fated Ministry was worthy of its birth. Ori-
ginating in a Coalition of Whigs and Tories, which compromised
13
194 MEMOIRS
the principles of freedom , it was destroyed by a Coalition of King
and People, which is even , perhaps, more dangerous to its prac-
tice '. The conduct, indeed, of all estates and parties , during this
short interval , was any thing but laudable. The leaven of the un-
lucky alliance with Lord North was but too visible in many of the
measures of the Ministry — in the jobbing terms of the loan , the
resistance to Mr. Pitt's plan of retrenchment , and the dimi-
nished numbers on the side of Parliamentary Reform 2. On the
other hand, Mr. Pitt and his party, in their eagerness for place,
did not hesitate to avail themselves of the ambidexterous and un-
worthy trick of representing the India Bill to the people , as a Tory
plan for the increase of Royal influence , and to the King , as a
Whig conspiracy for the curtailment of it. The King, himself, in
his arbitrary interference with the deliberations of the Lords , and
the Lords , in the prompt servility with which so many of them
obeyed his bidding , gave specimens of their respective branches of
the Constitution , by no means creditable — while , finally , the peo-
ple , by the unanimous outcry with which they rose , in defence of
the monopoly of Leacfenhall Street and the sovereign will of the
Court, proved how little of the " vox Dei" there may sometimes
be in such clamour.
Mr. Sheridan seems to have spoken but once during the discus-
sions on the India Bill , and that was on the third reading , when it
was carried so triumphantly through the House of Commons. The
report of his speech is introduced with the usual tantalising epithets,
'" witty," "entertaining," etc. etc.; but, as usual, entails disappoint-
ment in the perusal — '4 at cum intraveris, Dii Deceque , quain
Tiihil in medio im>enies! a " There is only one of the announced
1 " This assumption ( says Burke) of the Tribnnitian power by the Sovereign
was truly alarming. \Vhen Augustus Caesar modestly consented to become the
Tribune of the people, Rome gave up into ihe hands of that prince the only
remaining shield she had lo protect her liberty. The Tribunitian power in this
country, as in ancient Rome, was wisely kept distinct and separate from the
executive power : in this government it was constitutionally lodged , where it was
naturally to be lodged, in the House of Commons; and to that House the people
ought first to carry their complaints, even when they were directed against the
measures of the House itself : but now the people were taught to pass by the door
of the House of Commons, and supplicate the throne for the protection of their
liberties.'' — Speech on moving his Representation to the King, in June, 1784.
3 The consequences of this alloy were still more visible in Ireland. "The Coali-
tion Ministry," says Mr. Hardy, " displayed itself in various employments — but
there was no harmony. The old emu-tiers hated the new, and being more dex-
terous, were more successful." In stating that Lord Chailemont was but coldly
received by the Lord Lieutenant, Lord Northington , Mr. Hardy adds, " It is to
be presumed that some of the old Court, who, in consequent of the Coalition,
had crept once more into favour, influenced his conduct in this particular."
:< Pliny.
OF R. B. SHERIDAN. 105
pleasantries forth-coming, in any shape, through the speech.
Mr. Scott (the present Lord Eldon) had , in the course of the debate,
indulged in a licence of Scriptural parody, which he would himself,
no doubt , be among the first to stigmatise as blasphemy in others ,
and had affected to discover the rudiments of the India Bill in a
Chapter of the Book of Revelations,— Babylon being the East India
Company, Mr. Fox and his seven Commissioners the Beast with the
seven heads , and the marks on the hand and forehead , imprinted
by the Beast upon those around him , meaning, evidently, he said,
the peerages , pensions , and places distributed by the minister. In
answering this strange sally of forensic wit , Mr. Sheridan quoted
other passages from the same Sacred Book , which (as the Reporter
gravely assures us) " told strongly for the Bill ," and which proved
that Lord Filzwilliam and his fellow-commissioners , instead of being
the seven heads of the^Beast, were seven Angels clothed in pure and
white linen ! "
CHAPTER IX.
The Prince of Wales.— Financial Measures.— Mr. Pitt's East India Bill.
— Re-elected for Stafford. — Irish commercial Propositions. — Plan of
the Duke of Richmond. — Sinking Fund.
THE Whigs , who had now every reason to be convinced of the
aversion with which they were regarded at court , had lately been ,
in some degree , compensated for this misfortune by the accession
to their party of the Heir Apparent, who had, since the year 1783 ,
been in the enjoyment of a separate establishment , and taken his seat
in the House of Peers as Duke of Cornwall. That a young prince, fond
of pleasure and impatient of restraint , should have thrown himself
into the arms of those who were most likely to be indulgent to his
errors, is nothing surprising, either in politics or ethics. But that
mature and enlightened statesmen , with the lessons of all history
before their eyes , should have been equally ready to embrace such a
rash alliance , or should count upon it as any more than a temporary
instrument of faction , is , to say the least of it , one of those self-
delusions of the wise , which show how vainly the voice of the Past
may speak amid the loud appeals and temptations of the Present.
The last Prince of Wales , it is true , by whom the popular cause was
espoused, had left the lesson imperfect, by dying before he came to
the throne. But this deficiency has since been amply made up •, and
future Whigs , who may be placed in similar circumstances , will
have, at least, one historical warning before their eyes , which ought
to be enough to satisfy the most unreflecting and credulous.
In some points, the breach that now took place between the
Prince and the King , bore a close resemblance to thai which had
1% MEMOIRS
disturbed the preceding reign. In both cases, the Royal parents
were harsh and obstinate — in both cases, money was the chief source
of dissension — and in both cases, the genius, wit, and accomplish-
ments of those with whom the Heir Apparent connected himself,
threw a splendour round the political bond between them , which
prevented even themselves from perceiving its looseness and fragility
In the late question of Mr. Fox's India Bill, the Prince of Wales
had voted with his political friends in the first division. But, upon
finding afterwards that the King was hostile to the measure, his
Royal Highness took the prudent step (and with Mr. Fox's full con-
currence) of absenting himself entirely from the second discussion ,
when the Bill, as it is known, was finally defeated. This circum-
stance, occurring thus early in their intercourse, might have proved
to each of the parlies in this ill-sorted alliance , how ditlicult it was
for them to remain long and creditably united '. On the one side,
Iherc was a character to be maintained with the people , which a too
complacent toleration of the errors of royalty might, — and, as it
happened ,—did compromise ; while , on the other side , there were
the obligations of filial duty, which , as in this instance of the India
Bill , made desertion decorous , at a time when co-operation would
have been most friendly and desirable. There was also the perpetual
consciousness of being destined to a higher station , in which , while
duty would perhaps demand an independence of all party whatever,
' The following sensible remarks npon this first interruption of the political con-
nection between the Heir Apparent and the Opposition, are from an unfinished
Life of Mr. Sheridan now in iny possession — written by one whose boyhood
was passed in the society of the great men whom he undertook to commemorate,
and whose station and talents would have given to such a work an authenticity
and value, that would have rendered the humble memorial, which I have attempt-
ed , unnecessaiy :
"His Royal Highness acted npon this occasion by Mr. Fox's advice, and with
perfect propriety. At the same time the necessity under which he found himself of
so acting, may serve as a general warning to Princes of the Blood in this country,
to abstain from connecting themselves with party, and engaging either as active
supporters or opponents of the administration of the day- The ties of family, the
obligations of their situation, the feelings of the public, assuredly will condemn
them, at some time or other, as in the present instance, to desert their own
public acts, to fail in their private professions, and to leave their friends at the
very moment in which service and support are the most imperiously required.
" Princes are always suspected proselytes to the popular side. Conscious of this
suspicion, they strive to do it away by exaggerated professions, and by bringing
to the party which they espouse more violent opinions and more unmeasured
language than any which they find. These mighty promises they soon find it
unreasonable, impossible, inconvenient to fulfil. Their dereliction of their prin-
ciples becomes manifest and indefensible, in proportion to the vehemence with
which they have pledged themselves always to maintain them ; and the contempt
and indignation which accompanies their retreat is equivalent to the expectations
excited by the boldness and determination of their advance."
OF R. B. SHERIDATN. 107
convenience would certainly dictate a release from the restraints of
Whiggism.
It \vas most fortunate for Mr. Sheridan, on the rout of his party that
nisiu'd , to find himself safe in his seat for Stafford once more , and
the following document, connected with his election, is sufficiently
( urious , in more respects than one , to be laid before the reader : —
R. B. Sheridan, Esq. Expenses at the Borough of Stafford for Election,
Anno 1784.
•248 Burgesses, paid L. 5 5 o each. . '.; ' / :.' • . . . L. 1,002 o o
Yearly Expenses since.
L. s. d.
House-rent and taxes 23 6 6
Servant at 6.y. per week, board wages. i5 12 o
Ditto, yearly wages. ......880
Coals, etc. . . 10 o o
• 57 6 6
Expenses for Election— continued.
Brought forward L. 5j 6 6 i,3o2 o o
Ale tickets L. 4o o o
Half the members' plate 25 o o
Swearing young burgesses 10 o o
Subscription to the InGrmary. ... 5 5 o
Ditto clergymen's widows 220
Ringers. . . . - 44°
One year i43 X7 6
Multiplied by years . ''.")l: irv":" 6
863 5 o
Total expense of six years' parliament , exclusive of expense
incurred during the time of election, and your own — ;
annual expenses. . . . . ,t '. ... ... . ^ , • • • • •£• 2, i65 5 o
The followers of the Coalition had been defeated in almost all
directions , and it was computed that no less than 160 of them had
been left upon the field , — with no other consolation than what their
own wit afforded them , in the title which they bestowed upon them-
selves of " Fox's Martyrs."
This reduction in the ranks of his enemies, at the very commence-
ment of his career, left an open space for the youthful minister,
which was most favourable to the free display of his energies. He
had , indeed , been indebted , throughout the whole struggle , full
••is much to a lucky concurrence of circumstances as to his talents
and name for the supremacy to which he so rapidly rose. All the
198 MEMOIRS
other eminent persons of the day had either deeply entangled them-
selves in parly ties , or taken the gloss off their reputations by some
unsuccessful or unpopular measures ; and as he was the only man
independent enough of the House of Commons to be employed by
the King as a weapon against it , so was he the only one sufficiently
untried in public life , to be able to draw unlimitedly on the con-
fidence of the people, and array them , as he did , in all the enthu-
siasm of ignorance , on his side. Without these two advantages ,
which he owed to his youth and inexperience , even loftier talents
than his would have fallen far short of his triumph.
The financial affairs of the country, which the war had consi-
derably deranged, and which none of the ministries that ensued felt
sure enough of themselves to attend to, were, of course, among the
first and most anxious objects of his administration ; and the w isdom
of the measures which he brought forward for their amelioration
was not only candidly acknowledged by his opponents at the time ,
but forms at present the least disputable ground upon which his
claim to reputation as a finance-minister rests. Having found , on
his accession to power, an annual deficiency of several millions in
the revenue, he, in the course of two years, raised the income of
the country so high as to afford a surplus for the establishment of
his Sinking Fund. Nor did his merit lie only in the mere increase
of income, but in the generally sound principles of the taxation
by which he accomplished il , in the improvements introduced into
the collection of the revenue , and the reform effected in the offices
connected with it, by the simplification of the mode of keeping public
accounts.
Though 3Ir. Sheridan delivered his opinion upon many of the
taxes proposed , his objections were rather to the details than the
general object of the measures ; and it may be reckoned , indeed , a
partof the good fortune ofthe minister, that the financial department
of Opposition at this time was not assumed by any more adven-
turous calculator, who might have perplexed him , at least , by
ingenious cavils , however he might have failed to defeat him by
argument. As it was, he had the field almost entirely to himself,
for Sheridan , though acute , was not industrious enough to be
formidable, and Mr. Fox, from a struggle, perhaps, between
candour and party-feeling , absented himself almost entirely from
the discussion ofthe new taxes '.
1 "He had. absented himself," he said, "upon principle, that, though he
might not be able to approve of the measures which had been adopted, he did
not at the same time think himself authorised to condemn them , or to give them
opposition , unless he had beeu leady to suggest others les» distressing lo the;
subject." — Speech on Navr Bills , etc. etc.
OF R. B. SHEfUDAlS. 199
The only question, in which the angry spirit of the late conflict still
survived, were the Westminster Scrutiny and Mr. Pitt's East India
Kill. The conduct of the minister in the former transaction showed that
his victory had not brought with it those generous feelings towards
the vanquished, which, in the higher order of minds, follows as na-
i urally as the calm after a tempest. There must , indeed, ha\e been
something peculiarly harsh and unjust in the proceedings against
his great rival on this occasion , which could induce so many of
the friends of the minister — then in the fulness of his popularity
and power — to leave him in a minority, and vote against the con-
tinuance of the Scrutiny. To this persecution, however, we are
indebted for a speech of Mr. Fox , which is ( as he , himself, in his
opening, pronounced it would be) one of his best and noblest-, and
which is reported , loo , with such evident fidelity, as well as spirit ,
(hat we seem to hear, while we read , the " Demosthenem ipsum"
uttering it.
Sheridan had , it appears , written a letter, about this time , to
his brother Charles , in which , after expressing the feelings of
himself and his brother Whigs , at the late unconstitutional victory
over their party, he added, " But you are all so void of principle,
in Ireland, that you cannot enter into our situation. "Charles She-
ridan , who , in the late changes , had not thought it necessary to
pay his principles the compliment of sacrificing his place to them,
considered himself, of course, as included in this stigma; and the
defence of lime-serving politics which he has set up in bis answer,
if not so eloquent as that of the great Roman master of this art in
his letter to Lentulus , is , at least, as self-conscious and laboured,
and betrays altogether a feeling but too worthy of the political
meridian from which it issued.
" MY DEAR DICK, Dublin Castle, loth March, 1784.
" 1 am much obliged to von for the letter you sent me by Ordc ; I'be-
gan to think you had forgot I was in existence, but I forgive your past
silence on account of your recent kind attention. The new Irish adminis-
tration have come with the olive branch in their hand , and very wisely,
I think ; the system, the circumstances, and the manners of the two
countries arc so totally different, that I can assure you nothing could be
so absurd as any attempt to extend the party-distinctions which prevail
on your side of the water , to this. Nothing, I will venture to assert , can
possibly preserve the connexion between England and Ireland , but a per-
manent government here-> acting upon fixed principles, and pursuing
systematic measures For this reason a change of Chief Governor ought
to be nothing more than a simple transfer of government, and by no
means to make any change in that political system respecting this country
"liich England must adopt, let who will he the minister and whichever
200 MEMOIRS
party may acquire the ascendancy , if she means to preserve Ireland as a
part of the British empire.
" You will say that this is a very good plan for .people in place, as it
tends to secure them against all contingencies; but this, I give you my
word, is not my reason for thinking as I do. I must , in the first place ,
acquaint you that there never can be hereafter in this country any such
thing as party connections founded upon political principles : we have
obtained all the great objects for which Ireland had contended for many
years , and there docs not now remain one national object of sufficient
importance to unite men in the same pursuit. Nothing but such objects
ever did unite men in this kingdom , and that not from principle , but
because the spirit of the people was so far roused with respect to points
in which the pride, the interest, the commerce, and the prosperity of
the nation at large was so materially concerned , that the House of Com-
mons, if they had not the virtue to forward, at least wanted the courage
to oppose , the general and determined wish of the whole kingdom.
They therefore made a virtue of necessity, joined the standard of a very
small popular party ; both I?is and Outs voted equally against government,
the latter of course, and the former because each individual thought
himself safe in the number who followed his example.
" This is the only instance, I believe, in the history of Irish politics ,
where a party even appeared to act upon public principle ; and as the
cause of this singular instance has been removed by the attainment of
the only objects which could have united men in one pursuit, it is not
probable that we shall in future furnish any other example that will do
honour to our public spirit. If you reflect an instant, you will perceive
that our subordinate situation necessarily prevents the formation of any
party among us, like those you have in England, composed of persons
acting upon certain principles , and pledged to support each other. I am
willing to allow you that your exertions are directed by public spirit ;
but if those exertions did not lead to power, you must acknowledge
that it is probable they would not be made, or if made, that they
would not be of much use. The object of a party in England is either to
obtain power for themselves , or to take it from those who are in posses-
sion of it— they may do this from the purest motives, and with the truest
regard for the public good , but still you must allow that power is a very
tempting object, the hopes of obtaining it no small incentive to their
exertions, and the consequences of success to the individuals of which
the party is composed, no small strengthening to the bands which unite
them together. ISow, if you were to expect similar parties to be formed
in Ireland, you would exact of us more virtue than is necessary for
yourselves. From the peculiar situation of this- country , it is impossible
that the exertions of any party here can ever lead to power. Here then
is one very tempting object placed out of our reach, and, with it, all
those looked-for consequences to individuals which , with you , induce
them to pledge themselves to each other; so that nothing but poor public
spirit would be left to keep our Irish party together, and consequently a
greater degree of disinterestedness would be necessary in them , than is
requisite in one of your English parties.
" That no party exertion here can ever lead to power is obvious when
OK R. B. SHERIDAN. SOI
you reflect, .that we have in fact no Irish government; all power here
being lodged in a branch of the English government, we have no cabinet,
no administration of our own , no great offices of state ; every office we
have is merely ministerial, it confers no power but that of giving advice ,
which may or may not be followed by the Chief Governor. As all
power , therefore , is lodged solely in the English government , of which
the Irish is only a branch, it necessarily follows that no exertion of any
party here could ever lead to power, unless they overturned the English
government in this country, or unless the efforts of such a party in the
Irish House of Commons could overturn the British administration in
England, and the leaders of it get into their places ;— the first, you will
allow , would not be a very wise object, and the latter you must acknow-
ledge to be impossible.
" Upon the same principle, it would be found very difficult to form a
party in this country which should co-operate with any particular party
in England, and consent to stand or fall with them. The great leading
interests in this kingdom are of course strongly averse to forming any such
connections on your side of the water, as it would tend to create a fluc-
tuation in the affairs of this country that would destroy all their conse-
quence ; and , as to the personal friends which a party in England may
possibly have in this country , they must in the nature of things be few
in number, and consequently could only injure themselves by following
the fortunes of a party in England , without being able to render that
party the smallest service. And , at all events , to such persons this could
be nothing but a losing game. It would be , to refuse to avail themselves
of their connections or talents in order to obtain office or honours , and
to rest all their pretensions upon the success of a party in another king-
dom , to which success they could not in the smallest degree contribute.
You will admit that to a party in England, no friends on this side of the
water would be worth having who did not possess connections or talents ;
and if they did possess these, they must of course force themselves into
station , let the government of this country be in whose hands it. may ,
and that upon a much more permanent footing than if they were con-
nected with a party in England. What therefore could they gain by
such a connection ? nothing but the virtue of self-denial , in continuing
out of office as long as their friends were so , the chance of coming
in, when their friends attained power, and only the chance, for there
are interests in this country which must not be offended ; and the cer-
tainty of going out whenever their friends in England should be dismissed.
So that they would exchange the certainty of station upon a permanent
footing acquired by their own efforts, connections, or talents, for the
chance of statjon upon a most precarious footing, in which they would
be placed in the insignificant predicament of doing nothing for them-
selves, and resting their hopes and ambition upon the labours of others.
" In addition to what I have said respecting the consequences of the
subordinate situation of this country, you are to take into consideration
how peculiarly its inhabitants are circumstanced. Two out of three mil-
linns are Roman Catholics— I believe the proportion is still larger — and
i -.\'> -thirds of the remainder are violent rank Presbyterians, who have
always been, but most particularly of late, strongly averse to all govern
202 MEMOIRS
ineut placed in the hands of the members of the church of England ; nine-
tenths of theproperty, the landed property of the country I mean, is in
the possession of the latter. You will readily conceive how much these
circumstances must give persons of property in this kingdom a leaning
towards government ; how necessarily they must make them apprehensive
for themselves, placed between such potent enemies; and how naturally
it must make them look up to English government, in whatever hands it
may be , for that strength and support, which the smallness of their num-
bers prevents their finding among themselves, and consequently you will
equally perceive that those political or party principles which create such
serious difl'erences among you in England, are matters of small import-
ance lo the persons of lauded property in this country, when compared
with the necessity of their having the constant support of an English
government. — Here, my dear Dick , is a very long answer to a very lew
lines in your postscript. But I could not avoid boring you on the subject,
when you say , ' that we are all so void of principle that we cannot enter
into your situation.'
" 1 have received with the greatest pleasure the accounts of the very
considerable figure you have made this sessions in the House of Com-
mons. As I have no doubt but that your Parliament will be dissolved ,
Crod send you success a second time at Stafford, and the same to your
friend at \Vestminster. I will not forgive you if you do not give me the
first intelligence of both those events. I shall say nothing to you on the
subject of your English politics, only that I feel myself much more partial
to one side of the question than, in my present situation , it would be of
any use to me to avow. — I am the happiest domestic man in the world,
and am in daily expectation of an addition to that happiness , and own
that a home, which I never leave without regret, nor return to without
delight, has somewhat abated my passion for politics, and that warmth
I once felt about puhlic questions. But it has not abated the warmth of
my private friendships; it has not abated my regard for Fitzpatrick , my
anxiety for >ou, and the warmth of my wishes for the success of your
friends, considering them as such. —I beg my love to Mrs. Sheridan and
Tom , and am, dear Dick,
"Most affectionately yours ,
"C. F. SHERIDAN."
With respect lo the Bill for the better government of India ,
which Mr. Pitt substituted for that of his defeated rival , its pro-
visions are now, from long experience, so familiarly known, that
it would be superiluous to dwell upon either their merits or defects1.
The two important points in which it differed from the measure of
Mr. Fox were, in leaving the management of their commercial
concerns still in the hands of the Company, arid in making the
Crown the virtual depositary of Indian patronage a , instead of
' Three of ihe principal provisions were copied from the Propositions of Lord
North in 1781— in allusion to which Mr. Powys said of the measure, that "it was
the voice of Jacoh, hut the hand of Esau."
" "Mr. Pitt's Pill continues the form of the Company's government, and
OF R. B. SHERIDAN. 203
suffering it to be diverted into the channels of the Whig interest ,
—never, perhaps, to find its way back again. In which of these
directions such an accession of power might , with least mischief
to the Constitution , be bestowed , having the experience only of the
use made of it on one side, we cannot, with any certainty, pretend
to determine. One obvious result of this transfer of India to the
Crown has been that smoothness so remarkable in the movements
of the system ever since that easy and noiseless play of its machinery,
which the lubricating contact of Influence alone could give , and
which was wholly unknown in Indian policy, till brought thus by
Mr. Pitt under ministerial controul. When we consider the stormy
course of Eastern politics before that period — the enquiries, the ex-
posures, the arraignments that took place — the constant hunt
after Indian delinquency, in which Ministers joined no less keenly
than the Opposition — and then compare all this with the tranquillity
that has reigned , since the halcyon incubation of the Board of Con-
troul over the waters, — though we may allow the full share that
actual reform and a better system of government may claim in this
change, there is still but loo much of it to be attributed to causes of a
less elevated nature, — to the natural abatement of the watchfulness of
the minister over affairs no longer in the hands of others, and to that
power of Influence which , both at home and abroad , is the great
and ensuring bond of tranquillity, and , like the Chain of Silence
mentioned in old Irish poetry, binds all that come within its reach
in the same hushing spell of compromise and repose.
It was about this time that, in the course of an altercation \vith
Mr. Rolle , the member for Devonshire, Mr. Sheridan took the op-
portunity of disavowing any share in the political satires then circu-
lating, under the titles of "The Rolliad" and the "Probationary
Odes." " He was aware," he said , " that the Honourable Gentle-
man had suspected that he was either the author of those composi-
tions, or some way or other concerned in them 5 but he assured
professes to leave ibe patronage nnder certain conditions, and the commence
without condition, in the hands of the Company; but places all matters relat-
ing to the civil and military government and revenues in the hands of six
Commissioners , to he nominated and appointed by His Majesty, under the litle
of ••Commissioners of the Affairs of India ," which Board of Commissioners is
invested with the 'superintendence and controul over all the British territorial
possessions in the East Indies, and over the affairs of the United Company of
Merchants trading thereto.'" — Comparative Statement of the Two Dills, read from
his place by Mr. Sheridan , on the Discussion of the Declaratory Acts in 1788 , and
afterwards published.
In another part of this Statement he says, "The present Board of Contronl
have, nnder Mr. Pitt's Bill, usurped those very imperial prerogatives from the
Crown, which were falsely said to have been given to the new Board of Directors
nnder Mr. Fox's Bill."
304 MEMOIRS
him, upon his honour, he was not — nor had he ever seen a line of
them lill they were in print in the newspaper/'
Mr. Rolle , the hero of The Rolliad , was one of those unlucky
persons , whose destiny it is to be immortalised by ridicule , and to
whom the world owes the same sort of gratitude for the wit of which
they were the butts , as the merchants did , in Sinbad's story, to
those pieces of meat to which diamonds adhered. The chief offence ,
besides his political obnoxiousness , by which he provoked this sa-
tirical warfare, (whose plan of attack was all arranged at a club
held at Beckel's , ) was the lead which he took in a sort of conspi-
racy, formed on the ministerial benches, to interrupt, by coughing,
hawking , and other unseemly noises , the speeches of Mr. Burke.
The chief writers of these lively productions were Tickell , General
Filzpalrick ', Lord John Townshend % Richardson , George Ellis ,
and Dr. Lawrence 3. There were also a few minor contributions
from the pens of Bale Dudley, Mr. CTBeirne (afterwards Bishop of
Meath ) , and Sheridan's friend , Read. In two of the writers .
Mr. Ellis and Dr. Lawrence , we have a proof of the changeful na-
ture of those atoms, whose concourse for the time constitutes Party,
and of the volatility with which , like the motes in the sunbeam ,
described by Lucretius , they can
" Commutare viam , relroque repulsn reverti
Nunc hue, nunc illuc , in cunctas denique partes ."
Change their light course, as fickle chance may guide,
Now here , now there , aud shoot from side to side.
Doctor Lawrence was afterwards a violent supporter of Mr. Pitt,
and Mr. Ellis * showed the versatility of his wit , as well as of his
' To general Fitzpatrick some of the happiest pleasantries are to be attributed ;
among others , the verses on Brooke Watson, those on the Marquis of Graham ,
and "The Liars."
1 Lord John Townshend, the only survivor, at present, of ibis confederacy of
wits, was the author, in conjunction with Tickell, of the admirable Salire, eu
titled " Jekyll,"— Tickell having contributed only the lines parodied from Pop<-.
To the exquisite humour of Lord John we owe also the Probationary Ode for
Major Scott , and the playful parody on "Donee grains eram tibi."
3 By Doctor Lawrence the somewhat ponderous irony of the prosaic depart-
ment was chiefly managed. In allusion to the personal appearance of this eminent
civilian, one of the wits of the day thus parodied a passage of Virgil:
" Quo tetrior alter
Nonfuit, excepto Lanreutis corpore Tumi."
* It is related that, on one occasion , when Mr. Ellis was dining with Mr. Pitt .
and embarrassed naturally by the recollection of, what he had been guilty of
towards his host in The Rolliad, some of his brother' wits, to amuse themselves
at his expensi-, endeavoured to lead the conversation to tke subject of this work,
OF R. B. SHERIDAN. * ?05
politics , by becoming one of the most brilliant contributors to the
A nli jacobin.
The Rolliad and The Antijacobin may, on their respective sides
of the question , be considered as models of that style of political
salire ', whose lightness and vivacity give it the appearance of pro-
ceeding rather from the wantonness of wit than of ill-nature , and
whose very malice , from the fancy with which it is mixed up , like
certain kinds of fireworks, explodes in sparkles. They, however,
who are most inclined to forgive, in consideration of its polish and
playfulness, the personality in which the writers of both these works
indulged , will also readily admit that by no less shining powers can
a licence so questionable be either assumed or palliated , and that
nothing but the lively effervescence of the draught can make us
forget the bitterness infused into it. At no time was this truth ever
more strikingly exemplified than at present , when a separation
seems to have taken place between salire and wit, which leaves the
former like the toad, without the "jewel in its head -, " and when
the hands , into which the weapon of personality has chiefly fallen ,
have brought upon it a stain and disrepute , that will long keep
such writers as those of the Rolliad and Antijacobin from touching
it again.
hy asking him various questions as to its authors, etc. — which Mr. Pitt overhear-
ing, from the upper end of the table, leaned kindly towards Ellis , and said,
" Irnmo age , et a prima , die , hospes , origine nobis"
The word " hospes " applied to the new convert, was happy, and the "erroresqxe
tnas,n that follows, was, perhaps, left to be implied.
1 The following just observations upon The Rolliad and Probationary Odes
occur in the manuscript Life of Sheridan which I have already cited : — They are ,
in most instances, specimens of the powers of men, who, giving themselves np
to ease and pleasure, neither improved their minds with great industry, nor
exerted them with much activity; and have therefore left no very considerable
nor durable memorials of the happy and vigorous abilities with which nature
had certainly endowed them. The effusions themselves are full of fortunate allu-
sions, Indicrous terms, artful panegyric, and well-aimed satire. The verses are at
times far superior to the occasion , and the whole is distinguished by a taste, both
in language and matter, perfectly pure and classical j but they are mere occasional
productions. They will sleep with the papers of the Craftsman, so vaunted Iri
their own time, but which are never now raked up , except by the curiosity of
the historian and the man of literature.
"Wit, beiug generally founded upon the manners and characters of its own
day, is crowned iu that day, beyond all other exertions of the mind, with splen-
did and immediate success. But there is always something that equalizes. In return,
more than any other production , it suffers suddenly and irretrieTablv from the
band of Time. It receives a character the most opposite to its own. From being
i lie most generally understood and perceived, it becomes of all writing the most
diflionli ami t lie most obscure. Satires, whose meaning was open to the multitude,
defy the erudition of the scholar; and comedies, of which every line was f<-!t .>•
MIUII as it WHS spoken , require the hibocr of ail antiquary to explain ilirm *
200 MEMOIRS
Among other important questions that occupied the attention of
Mr. Sheridan at this period , was the measure brought forward un-
der the title of " Irish Commercial Propositions/' for the purpose
of regulating and finally adjusting the commercial intercourse be-
tween England and Ireland. The line taken by him and Mr. Fox in
their opposition to this plan was such as to accord , at once , with
the prejudices of the English manufacturers and the feelings of the
Irish patriots , — the former regarding the measure as fatal to their
interests , and the latter rejecting with indignation the boon which
it offered , as coupled with a condition for the surrender of the le-
gislative independence of their country.
In correct views of political economy, the advantage throughout
this discussion was wholly on the side of the minister ; and , in a
speech of Mr. Jenkinson , we find (advanced , indeed, but incident-
ally, and treated by Mr. Fox as no more than amusing theories , )
some of those liberal principles of trade which have since been more
fully developed , and by which the views of all practical statesmen
are, at the present day, directed. The little interest attached by
Mr. Fox to the science of Political Economy — so remarkably proved
by the fact of his never having read the work of Adam Smith on the
subject — is, in some degree, accounted for by the scepticism of
the following passage , which occurs in one of his animated speeches
on this very question. Mr. Pitt having asserted, in answer to !hose
who feared the competition of Ireland in the market from her low
prices of labour, that " great capital would in all cases overbalance
cheapness of labour,11 Mr. Fox questions the abstract truth of this
position, and adds , — " General positions of all kinds ought to be
very cautiously admitted ; indeed , on subjects so infinitely complex
and mutable as politics and commerce , a wise man hesitates at giv-
ing too implicit a credit to any general maxim of any denomina-
tion. "
If the surrender of any part of her legislative power could have
been expected from Ireland in that proud moment , when her new
born Independence was but just beginning to smile in her lap , the
acceptance of the terms then proffered by the Minister might have
averted much of the evils , of which she was afterwards the victim.
The proposed plan being , in itself (as Mr. Grattan called it) , " an
incipient and creeping Union ," would have prepared the way less
violently for the completion of that fated measure , and spared at
least the corruption, and the blood which were the preliminaries of
its perpetration at last. Hut the pride , so natural and honourable to
the Irish — had fate but placed them in a situation to assert it with
any permanent effect — repelled the idea of being bound even by the
commercial regulations of England. The wonderful eloquence of
OF R. B- SHERIDAN. ?07
G rattan, which, like an eagle guarding her young, rose grandly
in defence of the freedom to which itself had given birth , would
alone have been sufficient to determine a whole nation to his will.
Accordingly, such demonstrations of resistance were made both by
people and parliament, that the Commercial Propositions were given
up by the minister, and this apparition of a Union withdrawn from
the eyes of Ireland for the present — merely to come again , in ano-
ther shape , with many a " mortal murder on its crown , and push
her from her stool."
As Mr. Sheridan took a strong interest in this question , and spoke
at some length on every occasion when it was brought before the
House , I will , in order to enable the reader to judge of his manner
of treating it , give a few passages from his speech on the discussion
of that Resolution , which stipulated for England a controul over the
external legislation of Ireland : —
" Upon this view, it would be an imposition on common sense to
pretend , that Ireland could in future have the exercise of free will or
discretion upon any of those subjects of legislation , on which she now
stipulated to follow the edicts of Great Britain ; and it was a miserable so-
phistry to contend, that her being permitted the ceremony of placing
those laws upon her own Statute-book , as a form of promulgating them ,
was an argument, that it was not the British but the Irish Statutes that
bound the people of Ireland. For his part, if he were a member of the
Irish Parliament, he should prefer the measure enacting by one decisive
vote, that all British laws, to the purposes stipulated, should have im-
mediate operation in Ireland as in Great Britain ; choosing rather to avoid
the mockery of enacting without deliberation, and deciding where they
had no power to dissent. — Where fetters were to be worn , it was a
wretched ambition to contend for the distinction of fastening our cum
shackles."
" All had been delusion , trick , and fallacy : a new scheme o'f commer-
cial arrangement is proposed to the Irish as a boon ; and the surrender
of their Constitution is tacked to it as a mercantile regulation. Ireland ,
newly escaped from harsh trammels and severe discipline , is treated like
a high-mettled horse, hard to catch; and the Irish Secretary is to IT turn
to the field, soothing and coaxing him, with a sieve of provender in one
hand, but with a bridle in the other, ready to slip over his head while
lie is snuffling at the food. But this political jockeyship, he was con-
vinced, would not succeed."
.
In defending the policy, as well as generosity of the concessions
made to Ireland by Mr. Fox in 1782 , he says , —
" Fortunately for the peace and future union of the two kingdoms, no
such miserable and narrow policy entered into the mind of his Right
Honourable friend ; he disdained the injustice of bargaining with Ireland
on such a subject; nor would Ireland have listened to him if he had at-
208 MEMOIRS
tempted it. She had not applied to purchase a Constitution ; and if a tri-
bute or contribution had been demanded in return for what was than
granted, those patriotic spirits who were at that time leading the op-
pressed people of that insulted country to the attainment of their just
rights, would have pointed to other modes of acquiring them ; — would
have called to them in the words of Camillus arma aptnre ahfiicferro non
nuro pulria.ni ct lib er latent recuperfire."
The following passage is a curious proof of the short-sighted views
which prevailed at that period , even among the shrewdest men , on
the subject of trade : —
" There was one point, however, in which he most completely agreed
with the manufacturers of this country; namely, in their assertion , that
if the Irish trader should be enabled to meet the British merchant and
manufacturer in the British market, the gain of Ireland must be the loss
of England '. This was a fact not to be controverted on any principle of
common sense or reasonable argument. The pomp of general declamation
and waste of fine words, which had on so many occasions been employed
to disguise and perplex this plain simple truth , or, still more fallaciously
to endeavour to prove , that Great Britain would find her balance in the
Irish market , had only tended to show the weakness and inconsistency
of the doctrine they were meant to support. The truth of the argument
was with the manufacturers ; and this formed in Mr. Sheridan's mind, a
ground of one of the most vehement objections he had to the present
plan. "
It was upon the clamour, raised at this time by the English manu-
facturers , at the prospect of the privileges about to be granted to the
trade of Ireland , that Tickell , whose wit was always on the watch
for such opportunities , w rote the following fragment , found among
liiQ papers of Mr. Sheridan : —
" A VISION.
" After supping on a few Colchester oysters and a small Welsh rabbit,
I went to bed last Tuesday night at a quarter before eleven o'clock. I
slept quietly for near two hours ; at the expiration of which period , my
slumber was indeed greatly disturbed by the oddest train of images 1
ever experienced. I thought that every individual article of my usual dress
and furniture was suddenly gifted with the powers of speech, and all at
once united to assail me with clamorous reproaches , for my unpar-
donable neglect of their common interests , in the great question of sur-
rendering our British commerce to Ireland. My hat, my coat, and every
button on it, my Manchester waistcoat, my silk breeches, my Birmingham
buckles, my shirt-buttons, my shoes, my stockings, my garters, and,
what was more troublesome, my night-cap, all joined in a dissonant
volley of petitions and remonstrances — which , as I found it impossible
to wholly suppress , I thought it most prudent to moderate , by soliciting
1 Mr. Fox also said, "Ireland cannot make a single acquisition but to the
proportionate loss of England."
OF K. B. SHERIDAN. ->OU
them lo communicate their ideas individually. It was \vith some difficulty
they consented to even this proposal , which they considered as a device
to extinguish their general ardour, and to break the force of their united
eflbrts; nor would they hy any means accede to it, till I had repeatedly
assured them, that, as soon as I heard them separately, I would appoint
an early hour for receiving them in a joint body. Accordingly, having
fixed these preliminaries, my Night-cap thought proper to slip up im-
mediately over my ears, and, disengaging itself from my temples, called
upon my Waistcoat, who was rather carelessly reclining on a chair, to
attend him immediately at the foot of the bed. My Sheets and Pillow-
cases , being all of Irish extraction , stuck close to me, however,— which
was uncommonly fortunate , for, not only my Curtains had drawn offto
the foot of the bed , but my Blankets also had the audacity to associate
themselves with others of the woollen fraternity, at the first outset of this
household meeting. Both my Towels attended as evidences at the bar ,—
but my Pocket-handkerchief , notwithstanding his uncommon forward-
ness to hold forth the banner of sedition , was thought to be a character
of so mixed a complexion , as rendered it more decent for him to reserve
his interference till my Snuff-box could be heard — which was settled
accordingly.
"At length, to my inconceivable astonishment, my Night-cap, at-
tended as I have mentioned, addressed me in the following terms : — "
Early as was the age at which Sheridan had been transplanted
from Ireland — never to set foot upon his native land again — the feel-
ing of nationality remained with him warmly through life , and he
was , to the last, both fond and proud of his country. The zeal with
which he entered , at this period , into Irish politics , may be judged
of from some letters, addressed to him in the year 1785, by Mr. Isaac
Corry, who was at that time a member of the Irish Opposition , and
combated the Commercial Propositions as vigorously as he after-
wards, when Chancellor of the Exchequer, defended their "con-
summate flower," the Union. A few extracts from these letters will
give some idea of the interest attached to this question by the popular
party in both countries.
The following , dated August 5, 1785, was written during the ad-
journment of ten days , that preceded Mr. Ode's introduction of
the Propositions : —
" Your most welcome letter, after hunting me some days through the
country , has at length reached me. I wish you had sent some notes of
your most excellent speech ; but such as we have must be given to the
public — admirable commentary upon Mr. Pitt's apology to the People of
In land , which must also be published in the manner fitting it. The ad-
- were sent round to all the towns in the kingdom, in onlrr »«>
give runvncv to the humbug. Being lipon the spot, I ha\c inv lumps in
perfect order, and am ready at a moment's warning, for ;in\ mameuvre
510 MEMOIRS
which may, when we meet in Dublin previous to the next sitting, be
thought necessary to follow the petitions for postponing.
" We hear astonishing accounts of your greatness in particular. Paddy
will, I suppose , some beau jonr be voting you another 5o,ooo ' , if you
go on as you have done.
" I send to-day down to my friend, O'Neill, who wails for a signal only,
and we shall go up together. Brovvnhxw is just beside me, and I shall
ride over this morning to get him up to consultation in town
We mu&t get our Whig friends in England to engraft a few slips of
Whiggism here — till that is done, there will be neither Constitution for
the people nor stability for the government.
" Cliarlemont and I were of opinion that we should not make the
volunteers speak upon the present business; so I left it out in the Reso-
lutions at our late review. They are as tractable as we could desire, and
w;e can manage them completely. We inculcate all moderation — were we
to slacken in that, they would instantly step forward."
The date of the following letter is August lOlh — two days before
Mr. Orde brought forward the Propositions.
" We have got the Bill entire, sent about by Orde. The more it is read,
the less it is liked. I made notable use of the clause you sent me before
the whole arrived. We had a select meeting to-day of the D. of Leinster,
Charlemont, Conolly, Grattan, Forbes, and myself. We think of moving
an address to postpone to-morrow till the iath of January, and have also
some Resolutions ready pro re iiata, as we don't yet know what shape
they will put the business into;— Conolly to move. To-morrow morning
we settle the Address and Resolutions, and after that, to-morrow, meet
more at large at Leinster House. All our troops muster pretty well
— Mountmorris is here, and to be with us to-morrow morning. We
reckon on something like a hundred, and some are sanguine enough to
add near a score above it— that is too much. The report of to-night is
that Orde is not yet ready for us , and will beg a respite of a few days —
Beresford is not yet arrived, and that is said to be the cause. Mornington
and Poole are come — their muster is as strict as ours. If we divide any-
thing like a hundred, they will not dare to take a victory over us. Adieu ,
yours most truly.
" I.C."
The motion for bringing in the bill was carried only by a majority
of nineteen , which is thus announced to Mr. Sheridan by his cor-
respondent : —
" I congratulate with you on 108 minority — against 127. The business
never can go op? They were astonished, and looked the sorriest devils
you can imagine. Orde's exhibition was pitiful indeed— the support of his
party weak and open to attack — the debate on their part really poor. On
ours, Conolly, O'Neill, and the other country gentlemen, strong and of
great weight— Grattan able and eloquent in an uncommon degree — every
' Alluding to ihe recent vote of that sain to Mr. Grattan.
OT R. B. SHERIDAN. . fft
body in high spirits, and altogether a force that was irresistible. We
divided at. nine this morning, on leave to bring in a Bill for the
settlement. Thex ground fought upon was the Fourth Resolution, and
the principleof that in the others. The commercial detail did not belong
accurately to the debate, though some went over it in a cursory way.
('.rattan, two hours and a half — Flood as much — the former brilliant,
well attended to , and much admired — the latter tedious from detail ; of
course, not so well heard, and answered by Foster in detail to refutation.
" The Attorney General defended the constitutional safety under the
Fourth Resolution principle. Orde mentioned the Opposition in England
twice in his opening speech , with imputations, or insinuations at least,
not very favourable. You were not left undefended. Forbes exerted his
warm attachment to you with great effect — Burgh, the flag-ship of the
Leinstcr squadron, gave a well supported fire pointed against Pitt, and
covering you. Hardy (the Bishop of Down's friend), in a very elegant
speech, gave you due honour; and I had the satisfaction of a slight
skirmish, which called up the Attorney General, etc "
On the 15th of August Mr. Orde withdrew his Bill , and Mr. Corry
writes — " I wish you joy a thousand times of our complete victory.
Orde has offered the Bill — moved its being printed for his own justi-
fication to the country, and no more of it this session. We have the
effects of a complete victory."
Another question of much less importance , but more calculated
to call forth Sheridan's various powers, was the Plan of the Duke of
Richmond for the fortification of dock-yards, which Mr. Pitt brought
forward ( it was said , with much reluctance,) in the session of 1786,
and which Sheridan must have felt the greater pleasure in attacking ,
from the renegade conduct of its noble author in politics. In speak-
ing of the Report of a Board of General Officers , which had been
appointed to examine into the merits of this plan , and of which the
Duke himself was President , he thus ingeniously plays with the
terms of the art in question , and fires off his wit, as it were, en ri-
cochet, making it bound lightly from sentence to sentence : —
" Yet the Noble Duke deserved the warmest panegyrics for the striking
proofs he had given of his genius as an engineer; which appeared even in
the planning and construction of the paper in his hand ! The professional
ability of the Master general shone as conspicuously there , as it could
upon our coasts. He had made it an argument of posts; and conducted
his reasoning upon principles of trigonometry as well aslogic. There were
certain detached data, like advanced works, to keep the enemy at a distance
from the main object in debate. Strong provisions covered the flanks of
liis assertions. His very queries were in casements. No impression, there-
fore, was to be made on this fortress of sophistry by desultory observ ations;
and 'it was necessary to sit down before it, and assail it by regular
approaches. It was fortunate, however, to observe , that notwithstanding
all the skill "employed by the noble and literary engineer, his mode of
*1 j MEMOIRS
defence on paper was open to the same objection \vliich had been urged
against his other fortifications ; that if his adversary got possession of one*
of his posts, it became strength against him, and the means of subduing
the whole line of his argument."
He also spoke, at considerable length, upon the Plan brought
forward by Mr. Pitt for the Redemption of the National Debt— that
grand object of the calculator and the financier, and equally likely, it
should seem , to be attained by the dreams of the one as by the ex-
periments of the other. Mr. Pitt himself seemed to dread the suspi-
cion of such a partnership , by the care with which he avoided any
acknowledgment to Dr. Price, whom he had nevertheless personally
consulted on the subject , and upon whose visions of compound in-
terest this fabric of finance was founded.
In opening the Plan of his new Sinking Fund to the House ,
Mr. Pitt , it is well known , pronounced it to be " a firm column ,
upon which he was proud to flatter himself his name might be in-
scribed." Tycho Brahe would have said the same of his Astronomy,
and Descartes of his Physics ; — but these baseless columns have
long passed away, and the Plan of paying debt with borrowed money
well deserves to follow them. The delusion, indeed, of which this
Fund was made the instrument, during the war with France, is now
pretty generally acknowledged ; and the only question is , whether
Mr. Pitt was so much the dupe of his own juggle , as to persuade
himself that thus playing with a debt , from one hand to the other,
was paying it— or whether, aware of the inefficacy of his plan for
any other purpose than that of keeping up a blind confidence in the
money-market, he yet gravely went on, as a sort of High Priest of
Finance , profiting by a miracle in which he did not himself believe ,
and , in addition to the responsibility of the uses to which he ap-
plied the money, incurring that of the fiscal imposture by which he
raised it.
Though from the prosperous state of the revenue at the time of
the institution of this Fund , the absurdity was not yet committed of
borrowing money to maintain it , we may perceive by the following
acute pleasantry of Mr. Sheridan ( who denied the existence of the
alleged surplus of income) , that he already had a keen insight into
the fallacy of that Plan of Redemption afterwards followed :— " At
present ," he said , " it was clear there was no surplus ; and the only
means which suggested themselves to him were , a loan of a million
for the especial purpose — for the Right Honourable gentleman
might say, with the person in the comedy, ' If you won't lend me
t/ie money, how can 1 pay you?' '"
I OF R. B. SHERIDAN. 5t3
CHAPTER X.
Charges .against Mr. Hastings. — Commercial treaty with France. — •
Debts of the Prince of Wales.
THE calm security into which Mr. Pitt's administration had
,i -I lied , after the victory which the Tory alliance of King and people
had gained for him, left but little to excite the activity of party-spirit,
or to call forth those grand explosions of eloquence , which a more
electric state of the political world produces. The orators of Opposi-
tion might soon have been reduced , like Philoctetes wasting his ar-
rows upon geese at Lemnos ', to expend the armoury of their wit
upon the Grahams and Holies of the Treasury bench. But a subject
now presented itself — the Impeachment of Warren Hastings —
which , by embodying the cause of a whole country in one indivi-
dual, and thus combining the extent and grandeur of a national ques-
tion with the direct aim and singleness of a personal attack , opened
as wide a field for display as the most versatile talents could require ,
and to Mr. Sheridan , in particular, afforded one of those precious
opportunities , of which , if Fortune but rarely offers them to ge-
nius , it is genius alone that can fully and triumphantly avail itself.
The history of 'the rise and progress of British power in India — of
that strange and rapid vicissitude , by which the ancient Empire of
the Moguls was transferred into the hands of a Company of Mer-
chants in Leadenhall Street — furnishes matter, perhaps , more than
any other that could be mentioned, for those strong contrasts and
startling associations , to which eloquence and wit often owe their
most striking effects. The descendants of a Throne , once the loftiest
in the world , reduced to stipulate with the servants of traders for
subsistence — the dethronement of Princes converted into a commer-
cial transaction , and a ledger-account kept of the profits of Revolu-
tions — the sanctity of Zenanas violated by search-warrants , and the
chicaneries of English Law transplanted , in their most mischievous
luxuriance, into the holy and peaceful shades of the Bramins, — such
events as these, in which the poetry and the prose of life , its pom-
pous illusions and mean realities, are mingled up so sadly and fan-
tastically together, were of a nature, particularly when recent, to
lay hold of the imagination as well as the feelings , and to furnish
eloquence with those strong lights and shadows , of which her most
animated pictures are composed.
It is not wonderful , therefore, that the warm faucy of Mr. Burke
in corporc tela, cxcrccnntiir."--.lcci<i<, <if>. Ciccron.
214 MEMOIRS
should have been early and strongly excited by the scenes of which
India was the theatre , or that they should have ( to use his own
words) " constantly preyed upon his peace, and by night and day
dwelt on his imagination." His imagination , indeed, — as will natu-
rally happen, where this faculty is restrained by. a sense of truth —
was always most livelily called into play by events of which he had
not himself been a witness ; and , accordingly, the sufferings of
India and the horrors of revolutionary Frahce were the two sub-
jects upon which it has most unrestrainedly indulged itself. In the
year 1780 he had been a member of the Select Committee, which
was appointed by the House of Commons to take the affairs of India
into consideration , and through some of whose luminous Reports
we trace that powerful intellect, which " stamped an image of it-
self" on every subject that it embraced. Though the reign of Clive
had been sufficiently fertile in enormities, and the treachery prac-
tised towards Omichund seemed hardly to admit of any parallel , yet
the loftier and more prominent iniquities of Mr. Hastings's govern-
ment were supposed to have thrown even these into shadow. Against
him, therefore, — now rendered a still nobler object of attack by
the haughty spirit with which he defied his accusers, — the whole
studies and energies of Mr. Burke's mind were directed.
It has already been remarked that to the impetuous zeal with
which Burke at this period rushed into Indian politics , and to that
ascendancy over his party by which he so often compelled them to
u swell with their tributary urns his flood," the ill-fated East India
Bill of Mr. Fox in a considerable degree owed its origin. In truth,
the disposition and talents of this extraordinary man made him at
least as dangerous as useful to any party with which he connected
himself. Liable as he was to be hurried into unsafe extremes , im-
patient of contradiction, and with a sort* of feudal turn of mind ,
which exacted the unconditionalaservice of his followers, it required,
even at that time , but little penetration to foresee the violent schism
that ensued some years after, or to pronounce that, whenever he
should be unable to command his party, he would desert it.
The materials which he had been collecting on the subject of
India, and the indignation with which these details of delinquency
had filled him , at length burst forth ( like that mighty cloud ,
described fay himself as " pouring its whole contents over the
plains of the Carnatic") in his wonderful speech on the Nabob of
Arcot's debts')— a speech, whose only rivals perhaps in all the
1 Isocrates, in his Encomium upon Helen, dwells much on the advantage to
an orator of speaking upon subjects from which but little eloquence is expected
— 7r«fi T»V ^ai/*a<» xai Ta^rsivav. There is b'ttle doubt, indeed, that surprise mnst
have considerable share iu the pleasure which we derive from eloquence on such
OF R. B. SHERIDAN. 515
records of oratory, arc to b« found among three or four others of
his own , winch , like those poems of Petrarch called Sorelle
from their kindred excellence , may be regarded as sisters in beauty,
and equalled only by each other.
Though the charges against Mr. Hastings had long been threat-
ened \: it was not till the present year that Mr. Burke brought them
formally forward. He had been, indeed , defied to this issue by the
friends of the Governor General , whose reliance , however, upon
the sympathy and support of UAftninislry (accorded , as a matter of
course , to most Slate delinquents, ) was , in this instance , contrary
to all calculation, disappointed. Mr. Pitt, at the commencement
of the proceedings , had shown strong indications of an intention
to take the cause of the Governor General under his protection.
Mr. Dundas , too , had exhibited one of those convenient changes
of opinion , by which such statesmen can accommodate themselves
to the passing hue of the Treasury -bench , as naturally as the
Eastern insect does to the colour of the leaf on which it feeds.
Though one of the earliest and most active denouncers of Indian
mis-government , and even the mover of those strong Resolutions
in 1782 ' on which some of the chief charges of the present pro-
secution were founded , he now, throughout the whole of the open-
ing scenes of the Impeachment , did not scruple to stand forth as
the warm eulogist of Mr. Hastings, and to endeavour by a display
of the successes of his administration to dazzle away attention from
its violence and injustice.
This tone, however, did not long continue : — in the midst of
the anticipated triumph of Mr. Hastings , the Minister suddenly
" changed his mind, and checked his pride." On the occasion of
the Benares Charge, brought forward in the House of Commons by
Mr. Fox , a majority was , for the first time , thrown into the scale
of the accusation ; and the abuse that was in consequence showered
upon Mr. Pitt and Mr. Dundas, through every channel of the
press , by the1 friends of Mr. Hastings , showed how wholly unex-
pected, as well as mortifying, was the desertion,
As but little credit was allowed to conviction in this change, — it
being difficult to believe that a Minister should come to the dis-
cussion of such a question so lightly ballasted 'with opinions of his
unpromising topics as have inspired three of the most masterly speeches that can
be selected from modern oratory — that of Burke on the Nabob of Arcot's debts,
of Grattan on Tithes, and of Mr. Fox on the Westminster Scrutiny.
' In introducing the Resolutions , he said, that "he was urged to take this
step by an account , which had lately arrived from India , of an act of >the most
(lagrant violence and oppression, and of the grossest breach of faith, committed
1'v Mr. Hastings against Cheyt Sing, the Raja of Benares."
216 MEMOIRS
own as to be thrown from his equilibrium by the first wave of
argument he encountered, — various statements and conjectures
were , at the time , brought forward to account for it. Jealousy of
the great and increasing influence of Mr. Hastings at court was, in
general, the motive assigned for the conduct of the Minister. It
was even believed that a wish expressed by the King, to have his
new favourite appointed President of the Board of Control , was
what decided Mr. Pitt to extinguish , by co-operating with the
Opposition , every chance of a rivaJf y, which might prove trouble-
some , if not dangerous , to his power. -There is no doubt that the
arraigned ruler of India was honoured at this period with the dis-
tinguished notice of the Court, — partly, perhaps , from admiration
of his proficiency in that mode of governing , to which all Courts
are, more or less , instinctively inclined ; and partly from a strong
distaste to (hose who were his accusers ; which would have been
sufficient to recommend any person or measure to which they
were opposed.
But w hether Mr. Pitt , in the part which he now took , was ac-
tuated merely by personal motives , or (as his eulogists represent;
by a strong sense of impartiality and justice, he must at all events
have considered the whole proceeding , at this moment , as a most
seasonable diversion of the attacks' of the Opposition , from his own
person and government to an object so lillle connected with either.
The many restless and powerful spirits now opposed to him would
soon have found, or made, some vent for their energies, more
likely to endanger the stability of his power -, — and, as an expedient
for drawing off some of that perilous lightning, which flashed around
him from the lips of a Burke, a Fox, and a Sheridan , the prose-
cution of a great criminal like Mr. Hastings furnished as efficient a
conductor as could be desired.
Still, however, notwithstanding the accession of the Minister, and
the impulse given by the majorities which he commanded , the
projected Impeachment was but tardy and feeble in its*movements ,
and neither the House nor the public went cordially along with it.
Great talents, united to great power: — even when, as in the instance
of Mr. Hastings, abused — is a combination before which men are
inclined to bow implicitly. The iniquities, too, of Indian rulers
were of that gigantic kind , which seemed to outgrow censure , and
even, in some degree, challenge admiration. In addition to all
this, Mr. Hastings had been successful ; and success but too often
throws a charm round injustice , like the dazzle of the necromancer's
shield in Arioslo, before which every one falls
"* ' -K>,
" Con gli oalii alibadnati, e senza maiteC'
OF R- B. -SHERIDAN. JIT
The feelings , therefore , of the public were, at the outset of the
prosecution , rather for than against the supposed delinquent. Nor
was Ihis tendency counteracted by any very partial leaning towards
his accusers. Mr. Fox had hardly yet recovered his defeat on the
India Mill, or — what had been still more fatal to him — his victory
in the Coalition. Mr. Burke , in spite of his great talents and zeal ,
was by no means popular. There was a tone of dictatorship in his
public demeanour against which men naturally rebelled ; and the
impetuosity and passion with which he flung himself into every
favourite subject , showed a want of self-government but little cal-
culated to inspire respect. Even his eloquence , various and splendid
as it was , failed in general to win or command the attention of his
hearers, and, in this great essential of public speaking, must be
considered inferior to that ordinary , but practical , kind of oratory ' ,
which reaps its harvest at the moment of delivery, and is afterwards
remembered less for itself than its effects. There was a something —
which those who have but read him can with difficulty conceive —
that marred the impression of his most sublime and glowing dis-
plays. In vain did his genius put forth its superb plumage, glittering
all over with the hundred eyes of fancy — the gait of the bird was
heavy and awkward, and its voice seemed rather to scare than at-
tract. Accordingly , many of those masterly discourses , which , in
their present form , may proudly challenge comparison with all the
written eloquence upon record, were, at the time when they Were
pronounced , either coldly listened to , or only welcomed as a signal
and excuse for not listening at all. To such a length was this indif-
ference carried , that , on the evening when he delivered his great
Speech on the Nabob of Arcot's debts, so faint was the impression
it produced upon the House , that Mr. Pitt and Lord Grenville , as
I have heard , not only consulted with each other as to whether it
was necessary they should take the trouble of answering it , but
decided in the negative. Yet doubtless, at the present moment, if
Lord Grenville — master as he is of all the knowledge that belongs
to a statesman and a scholar — were asked to point out from the stores
of his reading the few models of oratorical composition , to the
perusal of which he could most frequently , and with unwearied
admiration, return, this slighted and unanswered speech would be
among the number.
From all these combining circumstances it aVose that the prose-
cution of Mr. Hastings, even after the accession of the Minister,
'•veiled but a slight and wavering interest; and, without some ex-
\V hoevi.-r, upon comparison, is deemed by a common audience the greatest
orator, ought most certainly to be pronounced such by intn of science and erudi«
lion."— Ilium-, Kvay 13.
3J8 MEMOIRS
traordinary appeal to the sympathies of the House and the country —
some startling touch to the chord of public feeling — it was question-
able whether the enquiry would not end as abortively as all the
other Indian inquests ' that had preceded it.
In this state of the proceeding , Mr. Sheridan brought forward ,
on the 7th of February in the House of Commons, the charge relative
to the Begum Princesses of Oude , and delivered that celebrated
Speech2, whose effect upon its hearers has no parallel in the annals
of ancient or modern eloquence. When we recollect the men by
whom the House of Commons was at that day adorned , and the con-
flict of high passions and interests in which they had been so lately
engaged; — when we see them all , of all parties, brought (as Mr.
Pitt expressed il) " under the wand of the enchanter," and only
vying with each other in their description of the fascination by which
they were bound ; — when we call to mind , too , that he , whom the
first statesmen of the age thus lauded , had but lately descended
among them from a more aerial region of intellect, bringing trophies
falsely supposed to be incompatible with political, prowess -, — it is
impossible to imagine a moment of more entire and intoxicating
triumph. The only alloy that could mingle with such complete
success must be the fear that it was too perfect ever to come again ;
— that his fame had then reached the meridian point, and from that
consummate moment must date its decline.
Of this remarkable Speech there exists no Report •, — for it would
1 Namely, the fruitless prosecution of Lord Clive by General Burgoyne, the
trifling verdict upou the persons who had imprisoned Lord Pigot, and the Bill of
Pains anil Penalties against Sir Thomas Rumhold, finally withdrawn.
3 Mr. Burke declared it to be " the most astonishing effort of eloquence , argu-
ment, and \vit united, of which there was any record or tradition." Mr. Fox said,
"All that he had ever heard, all that he had ever read, when compared with it,
dwindled into nothing, and vanished like vapour before the snn;" — and Mr. Pitt
acknowledged "that it surpassed all the eloquence of ancient and modern times,
and possessed every thing that genius or art could furnish, to agitate and controul
the human mind."
There were several other tributes, of a less distinguished kind, of which I find
the following account in the Annual Register: —
'' Sir William Dolben immediately moved an adjournment of the debate, con-
fessing that, in the state of mind in which Mr. Sheridan's speech had left him , it
was impossible for him to give a determinate opinion. Mr. Stanhope seconded the
motion. When he had entered the House, he was not ashamed to acknowledge that
his opinion inclined to the side of Mr. Hastings. But such had been the wonderful
efficacy of Mr. Sheridan's convincing detail of facts, an'd irresistible eloquence,
thai he could not but say that his sentiments were materially changed. Nothing,
indeed, hat information almost equal to a miracle, could determine him not to
vote for the charge; hut he had just felt the influence of such a miracle, and ho
could not bnt ardently desire to avoid an immediate decision. Mr. Matthew Mou-
tasne confessed that he had felt a similar revolution of sentiment."
OF R. B. SHERIDAN. 21!)
bo absurd to dignify with that appellation the meagre and lifeless
sketch , the
Tenuem sine i>iribu& urnbram
Infaciem ^Knece,
which is given in the Annual Registers and Parliamentary Debates.
Us fame, therefore, remains like an empty shrine— a cenotaph still
crowned and honoured, though the inmate is wanting. Mr. Sheridan
was frequently urged to furnish a Report himself, and from his
habit of preparing and writing out his speeches , there is little doubt
that he could have accomplished such a task without much difficulty.
But, whether from indolence or design, he contented himself with
leaving to imagination, which , in most cases , he knew , transcends
reality, the task of justifying his eulogists, and perpetuating the
tradition of their praise. Nor, in doing thus , did he act perhaps
unwisely for his fame. We may now indulge in dreams of the elo-
quence that could produce such effects1, as we do of the music of
the ancients and the miraculous powers attributed to it, with as
little risk of having our fancies chilled by the perusal of the one ,
as there is of our faith being disenchanted by hearing a single strain
of the other.
After saying thus much , it may seem a sort of wilful profanation ,
to turn to the spiritless abstract of this speech , which is to be found
in all the professed reports of Parliamentary oratory , and which
stands , like one of those half-clothed mummies in the Sicilian vaults,
with , here and there , a fragment of rhetorical drapery , to give an
appearance of life to its marrowless frame. There is, however, one
passage so strongly marked with the characteristics of Mr. Sheridan's
talent — of his vigorous use of the edge of the blade , with his too
frequent display of the glitter of the point — that it may be looked
upon as a pretty faithful representation of what he spoke , and claim
a place among the authentic specimens of his oratory. Adverting
to some of those admirers of Mr. Hastings , who were not so implicit
in their partiality as tg give unqualified applause to his crimes., but
found an excuse for their atrocity in the greatness of his mind , he
thus proceeds : —
* The following anecdote is given as a proof of the irresistible power of this
speech in a note upon Mr. ilisset's History of the Reign of George III. : —
"The late Mr. Logan, well known fpr his literary efforts, and author of a most
masterly defence of Mr. Hastings, went that day to the House of Commons,
prepossessed for the accused and against his accuser. At the expiration of the first
liourhe said to a friend, ' All this is declamatory assertion without proof :'— when
the second was finished, • This is a most wonderful oration :'— at the close of the
third, 'Mr. Hastings has acted very unjustifiably;' — the fourth , 'Mr. Hastings is.
a most atrocious criminal;' — and, at last, ' Of all monsters of iniqnity the iuo.<»t
cnormons is NVaricn HasjiDjjs! ' "
820 MEMOIRS
" To estimate the solidity of such a defence, it would be sufficient merely
to consider in what consisted this prepossessing distinction, this captivating
characteristic of greatness of mind. Is it not solely to be traced in great
actions directed to great ends? In them, and them alone, we are to search
for true estimable magnanimity. To them only can \ve justly affix the
splendid title and honours of real greatness. There was indeed another
species of greatness, which displayed itself in boldly conceiving a bad
measure, and undauntedly pursuing it to its accomplishment. But had
Mr. Hastings the merit of exhibiting either of these descriptions of
greatness, — even of the latter? He saw nothing great -nothing magna-
nimous— nothing open - nothing direct in his measures or in his mind.
On the contrary, he had too often pursued the worst objects by the worst
means. His course was an eternal deviation from rectitude. He either
tvraunised or deceived; and was by turns a Dionysius and a Scapin '. As
well might the writhing obliquity of the serpent be compared to the swift
directness of the arrow, as the duplicity of Mr. Hastings's ambition to the
simple steadiness of genuine magnanimity- In his mind all was shulfling,
ambiguous, dark, insidious, and little : nothing simple, nothing unmixed:
all affected plainness, and actual dissimulation; — a heterogenous mass of
contradictory qualities; with nothing great but his crimes; and even
those contrasted bv the littleness of his motives, which at once denoted
both his baseness and his meanness, and marked him for a traitor and a
trickster. Nay, in his style and writing there was the same mixture of
vicious contrarieties ; — the most grovelling ideas were conveyed in the
most inflated language, giving mock consequence to low cavils, and
uttering quibbles in heroics ; so that his compositions disgusted the mind's
taste, as much as his actions excited the soul's abhorrence. Indeed this
mixture of character seemed by some unaccountable, but inherent quality,
to be appropriated, though in inferior degrees, to every thing that
concerned his employers. He remembered to have heard an honourable
and learned gentleman (Mr. Dundas) remark, that there was something
in the first frame and constitution of the Company, which extended the
sordid principles of their origin over all their successive operations;
connecting with their civil policy, and even with their boldest achieve-
ments, the meanness of a pedlar and the profligacy of pirates. Alike in
the political and the military line could be observed auctioneering ambas-
sadors and trading generals;— and thus we saw a revolution brought
about by affidavits ; an army employed in executing an arrest; a town
besieged on a note of hand; a prince dethroned for the balance of nil
account. Thus it was they exhibited a government which united the mock
majesty of a bloody sceptre, and the little traffic of a merchant's counting-
house, wielding a truncheon with one hand, and picking a pocket with
the other."
The effect of this speech , added to the line taken by the Minister,
turned the balance against Hastings , and decided the Impeachment.
Congratulations on his success poured in upon Mr. Sheridan, as
1 The spirit of I his observation has been \\ellcomlensed in lh« compound n;unc
given by the Abbe dc Piadt to Napoleon — " Jupiter-Scapiu."
OF R. B. SHERIDAN. 231
hiay be supposed , from all quarters -, and the letters that he received
from his own family on the occasion were preserved by him care-
fully and fondly through life. The following extract from one written
by Charles Sheridan is highly honourable to both brothers . —
" Mv DEAR DICK, Dublin Castle, i"5th February, 1787.
''Could I for a moment forget you were my brother, I should, merely as
an Irishman, think myself bound to thank you, for the high credit you have
done your country. You may be assured, therefore, that the sense of national
pride, which I in common with all your countrymen on this side of the water
must feel on this splendid occasion, acquires no small increase of personal
satisfaction, when I reflect to whom Ireland is indebted, for a display of
ability so unequalled, that the honour derived from it seems too extensive
to be concentered in an individual, but ought to give, and I am persuaded
will give, anew respect for the name of Irishman. I have heard and read the
accounts of your speech, and of the astonishing impression it made, with
tears of exultation : but what will flatter you more— I can solemnly de-
clare it to be a fact, that I have, since the news reached us, seen good
honest Irish pride, national pride I mean, bring tears into the eyes of
many persons, on this occasion, who never saw you. I need not, after
what I have stated, assure you, that it is with the most heart-felt satis-
faction that I offer you my warmest congratulations. " * * *
The following is from his eldest sister, Mrs. Joseph Lefanu : —
" MY DEAR BROTHER, \Qth February, 1787.
" The day before yesterday I received the account of your glorious
speech. Mr. Crauford was so good as to write a more particular and satis-
factory one to Mr. Lefanu than we could have received from the papers.
I have watched the first interval of ease from a cruel and almost inces-
sant head-ache to give vent to my feelings, and tell you how much I
rejoice in your success. May it be entire! May the God who fashioned
you , and gave you powers to sway the hearts of men and controul their
way ward wills , be equally favourable to you in all your undertakings,
and make your reward here and hereafter! Amen , from the bottom of
my soul ! My affection for you has been ever ' passing the love of women.'
Adverse circumstances have deprived me of the pleasure of your society,
but have had no effect in weakening my regard for you. I know your
heart too well to suppose that regard is indifferent to you, and soothingly
sweet to me is the idea that, in some pause of thought from the im-
portant matters that occupy your mind, your earliest friend is sometimes
recollected by you.
" I know you are much above the little vanity that seeks its gratifica-
tion in the praises of the million, but you must be pleased with the ap-
plause of the discerning, — with the tribute I may say of affection paid to
the goodness of your heart. People love your character as much as they
admire your talents. My father is, in a degree that I did not expect, gra-
tified with the general attention you have excited here : he seems truly
pleased that men should say, 'There goes the father of Gaul.' If your
MEMOIRS
fame has shed a ray of brightness over all so distinguished as to be con-
nected with you, 1 am sure I may say it has infused a ray of gladness into
my heart, deprest as it has been with ill health and long confinement."
There is also another letter from this lady , of the same date, to
Mrs. Sheridan , which begins thus enthusiastically : —
" MY DEAR SHERI.
" Nothing but death could keep me silent on such an occasion as this.
I wish you joy — I am sure you feel it: 'oh moments worth whole ages
past, and all that are to come.' You may laugh at my enthusiasm if you
please — I glory in it." '
In the month of April following, Mr. Sheridan opened the Seventh
Charge , which accused Hastings of corruption , in receiving bribes
and presents. The orator was here again lucky in having a branch
of the case allotted to him, which, though by no means so susceptible
of the ornaments of eloquence as the former , had the advantage of
being equally borne out by testimony , and formed one of the most
decided features of the cause. The avidity, indeed, with which
Hastings exacted presents , and then concealed them as long as
there was a chance of his being able to appropriate them to himself,
gave a mean and ordinary air to iniquities , whose magnitude would
otherwise have rendered them imposing, if not grand.
The circumstances , under which the present from Cheyte Sing
was exlorled , shall be related when I come to speak of the great
Speech in Westminster Hall. The other strong cases of corruption ,
on which Mr. Sheridan now dwelt, were the sums given by the
Munny Begum (in return for her appointment to a trust for which ,
it appears , she was unfit,) both to Hastings himself and his useful
agent, Middlelon. This charge, as far as regards the latter, was
never denied — and the suspicious lengths to which the Governor
General went , in not only refusing all enquiry into his own share
of the transaction , but having his accuser, Nuncomar, silenced by
an unjust sentence of death , render his acquittal on this charge such
a stretch of charity, as nothing but a total ignorance of the evidence
and all its bearings can justify.
The following passage, with which Sheridan wound up his Speech
on this occasion , is as strong an example as can be adduced of that
worst sort of florid style, which prolongs metaphor into allegory,
and , instead of giving in a single sentence me essence of many
flowers , spreads the flowers themselves , in crude heaps , over a
whole paragraph : —
" In conclusion, (he observed,) that, although within this rank , but
infinitely too fruitful wilderness of iniquities — within this dismal and
OF R. B. SHERIDAN. m
unhallowed labyrinth — it was most natural lo cast an eye of indignation
and concern o\er the wide and towering forest of enormities — all rising
in the dusky magnificence of guilt ; and to fix the dreadfully-excited at-
tention upon ihe huge trunks of revenge , rapine, tyranny, and oppres-
sion ; \ et it became not less necessary to trace out the poisonous weeds,
Ihc baleful brushwood, and all the little, creeping, deadly plants, which
were, in quantity and extent, if possible, more noxious. The whole range
of this far- spreading calamity was sown in the hot-bed of corruption ;
:ind had risen, by rapid and mature growth, into every species of illegal
;uid atrocious violence "
At the commencement of the proceedings against Hastings , an
occurrence immediately connected with them, had brought Sheridan
and his early friend Halhed together, under circumstances as dif-
ferent as well can be imagined from those under which they had
parted , as boys. The distance , indeed , that had separated them in
the interval was hardly greater than the divergence that had taken
place in their pursuits •, for, while Sheridan had been converted into
a senator and statesman , the lively Halhed had become an East
Indian Judge , and a learned commentator on the Gentoo Laws.
Upon the subject , too , on which they now met , their views and
interests were wholly opposite, — Sheridan being the accuser of
Hastings, and Halhed his friendvThe following are the public cir-
cumstances that led to their interview :
In one of the earliest debates on the Charges against the Governor
General, Major Scott having asserted that, when Mr. Fox was
preparing his India Bill, overtures of accommodation had been
made, by his authority, to Mr. Hastings, added that he (Major
Scott) "entertained no doubt that, had Mr. Hastings then come
home , he would have heard nothing of all this calumny, and all
these serious accusations." Mr. Fox , whom this charge evidently
took by surprise , replied that he was wholly ignorant of any such
overtures, and that " whoever made, or even hinted, at such an
offer, as coming from him , did it without the smallest shadow of
authority.'1 By an explanation, a few days after, from Mr. Sheridan ,
it appeared that he was the person who had taken the step alluded
to by Major Scott. His interference , however, he said , was solely
founded upon an opinion which he had himself formed with respect
lo the India Bill , namely, that it would be wiser, on grounds of
expediency, not lo make it retrospective in any of its clauses. In
consequence of this opinion , he had certainly commissioned a friend
lo enquire of Major Scott, whether, if Mr. Hastings were recalled ,
lit1 would come home,- — but " thai there had been the most distant
idea of bartering with Mr. Hastings for his suppoil of the Indian
Hill, he utterly denied." In conclusion, he referred, for Hie Irulli
of what he had now staled, lo Major Scolt, who , instantly rising ,
52* MEMOIRS
acknowledged thai , from enquiries which he had since made of ihc
gentleman deputed to him by Mr. Sheridan on the occasion , he was
ready to bear testimony to the fairness of the statement just sub-
mitted to the House , and to admit his own mistake in the interpre-
tation which he had put on the transaction.
It was in relation to this misunderstanding that the interview took
place in the year 1786 between Sheridan and Halhed — the others
present being Major Scott and Doctor Parr, from whom I heard the
circumstance. The feelings of this venerable scholar "towards " iste
Scotus " (as he calls Major Scott in his Preface to Bellendenus) were
not, it is well known, of the most favourable kind 5 and he took
the opportunity of this interview to tell that gentleman fully what he
thought of him : — " For ten minutes ," said the Doctor, in des-
cribing his aggression, " I poured out upon him hot, scalding abuse
— 'twas lava , Sir ! "
Among the other questions that occupied the attention of Mr. She-
ridan during this session , the most important were the Commercial
Treaty with France , and the Debts of the Prince of Wales.
The same erroneous views , by which the opposition to the Irish
Commercial Propositions was directed, still continued to actuate
Mr. Fox and his friends in their pertinacious resistance to the
Treaty with France : — a measure which reflects high honour upon
the memory of Mr. Pilt , as one of the first efforts of a sound and
liberal policy to break through that system of restriction and inter-
ference , which had so long embarrassed the flow of international
commerce.
The wisdom of leaving trade to find its own way into those chan-
nels which the reciprocity of wants established among mankind
opens to it , is one of those obvious truths that have lain long on the
highways of knowledge , before practical statesmen would condes-
cend to pick them up. It has been shown , indeed , that the sound
principles of commerce , which have at last forced their way from
the pages of thinking men into the councils of legislators, were more
than a hundred years since promulgated by Sir Dudley North ' •,—
and in the Querist of Bishop Berkeley may be found the outlines of all
that the best friends not only of free trade but of free religion would
recommend to her rulers of Ireland at the present day . Thus frequently
does Truth , before the drowsy world is prepared for her, like
" The nice Morn ou the Indian steep,
From her cabin'd loophole peep."
Though Mr. Sheridan spoke frequently in the course of the dis-
cussions , he does not appear to have , at any time , encountered the
main body of the question , but to have confined himself chiefly
' M'Cullocli's Leclnres on Political Economy.
OF R. B. SHERIDA1N. 92i
to a consideration <>!' the eflecls . which the treaty would have upon
the interests of Ireland ; — a point which he urged with so much
earnestness , as to draw down upon him from one of the speakers the
taunting designation of" Self-appointed Representative of Ireland."
Mr. Fox was the most active antagonist of the Treaty ; and his
speeches on the subject may be counted among those feats of prowess,
\\ilh which the chivalry of Genius sometimes adorns the cause of
Krror. In founding , as he did , his chief argument against com-
mercial intercourse upon the " natural enmity " between the two
countries , he might have referred , it is true , to high Whig au-
thority : — " The late Lord Oxford told me ," says LordBolingbroke,
"• that my Lord Somers being pressed, I know not on what occasion
or by whom , on the unnecessary and ruinous continuation of the
war, instead of giving reasons to show the necessity of it , contented
himself to reply that he had been bred 'up in a hatred to France." —
But no authority, however high , can promote a prejudice into a
reason , or conciliate any respect for this sort of vague , traditional
hostility, which is often obliged to seek its own justification in the
very mischiefs which itself produces. If Mr. Fox ever happened to
peruse the praises , which his Antigollican sentiments on this oc-
casion procured for him , from the tedious biographer of his rival,
Mr. Gifford , he would have suspected , like Phocion , that he must
have spoken something unworthy of himself, to have drawn down
upon his head a panegyric from such a quarter.
Another of Mr. Fox's arguments against entering into commer-
cial relations with France , was the danger lest English merchants ,
by investing their capital in foreign speculations , should become so
entangled with the interests of another country as to render them less
jealous than they ought to be of the honour of their own , and less
ready to rise in its defence , when wronged or insulted. But , as-
suredly, a want of pugnacity is not the evil to be dreaded among
nations — still less between two , whom the orator had just repre-
sented as inspired by a " natural enmity " against each other. He
ought rather, upon this assumption , to have welcomed the prospect
of a connection , which , by transfusing and blending their com-
mercial interests , and giving each a stake in the prosperity of the
other, would not only soften away the animal antipathy attributed
to them , but , by enlisting selfishness on the side of peace and amity,
afford the best guarantee against wanton warfare , that the wisdom
of statesmen or philosophers has yet devised.
Mr. Burke , in affecting to consider the question in an enlarged
point of view , fell equally short of its real dimensions ; and even
tlescended to the weakness of ridiculing such commercial arrange-
iniMils, as unworthy altogether of the conlcmplalioft of the higher
22f, MEMOIRS
order of statesmen. " The Right Honourable gentleman ," he said ,
" had talked of the treaty as if it were the affair of two little counting-
houses , and not of two great countries. He seemed to consider it as
a contention between the sign of the Fleur-de-lis , and the sign of
the Red Lion , which house should obtain the best custom. Such
paltry considerations were below his notice."
In such terms could Burke, from temper or waywardness of judg-
ment , attempt to depreciate a speech which may be said to have con-
tained the first luminous statement of the principles of commerce,
with the most judicious views of their application to details , that
had ever, at that period , been presented to the House.
The wise and enlightened opinions of Mr. Pitt , both with res-
pect to Trade , and another very different subject of legislation ,
Religion , would have been far more worthy of the imitation of some
of his self-styled followers , than those errors which they are so glad
to shelter under the sanction of his name. For encroachments upon
the property and liberty of the subject , for financial waste and un-
constitutional severity, they have the precedent of their great master
ever ready on their lips. But , in all that would require wisdom and
liberality in his copyists — in the repugnance he felt to restrictions
and exclusions , affecting either the worldly commerce of man with
man, or the spiritual intercourse of man with his God, —in all this,
like the Indian that quarrels with his idol, these pretended followers
not only dissent from their prototype themselves, but violently de-
nounce , as mischievous, his opinions when adopted by others.
In attributing to party feelings the wrong views entertained by the
Opposition on this question, we should but defend their sagacity
at the expense of their candour ; and the cordiality, indeed , with
which they came forward this year to praise the spirited part taken
fay the Minister in the affairs of Holland — even allowing that it
would be difficult for Whigs not to concur in a measure so national
— sufficiently acquits them of any such perverse spirit of party, as
would , for the mere sake of opposition , go wrong because the Mi-
nister was right. To the sincerity of one of their objections to the
Treaty— namely, that it was a design , on the part of France , to
detach England , by the temptation of a mercantile advantage, from
her ancient alliance with Holland and her other continental con-
nections— Mr. Burke bore testimony, as far as himself was concern-
ed , by repeating the same opinions , after an interval of ten years,
in his testamentary work , the " Letters on a Regicide Peace.1'
The other important question which I have mentioned as enga-
ging , during the session of 1787, the attention of Mr. Sheridan ,
was the application to Parliament for the payment of the Prince of
Wales's debts. The embarrassments of the Heir-Apparent were but;*
OF H. B. SHERIDAN. }Jt
natural consequence of his situation ; and a little more graciousness
and promptitude on the part of the King , in interposing to relieve
His Royal Highness from the difficulties under which he laboured,
would have afforded a chance of detaching him from his new poli-
tical associates, of which , however the affection of the Royal parent
may have slumbered , it is strange that his sagacity did not hasten
to avail itself. A contrary system , however , was adopted. The
haughty indifference both of the monarch and his minister threw
the Prince entirely on the sympathy of the Opposition. Mr. Pitt
identified himself with the obstinacy of the father, while Mr. Fox
and the Opposition committed themselves with the irregularities of
the son ; and the proceedings of both parties were such as might
have been expected from their respective connections — the Royal
mark was but too visible upon each.
One evil consequence , that was on the point of resulting from the
embarrassed situalion in which the prince newfound himself, was
his acceptance of a loan which the Duke of Orleans had proffered
him , and which would have had the perilous tendency of placing
the future So vereign of England in a slate of dependence , as cre-
ditor, on a Prince of France. That the negociations in this extraordi-
nary transaction had proceeded farther than is generally supposed ,
will appear from the following letters of the Duke of Portland to
Sheridan : —
" DEAR SHERIDAN , Sunday noon , ID Dec.
*' Since I saw you I have received a confirmation of the intelligence
which was the subject of our conversation. The particulars varied in no
respect from those I related to you — except in the addition of a pension ,
which is to take place immediately on the event which entitles the cre-
ditors to payment , and is to be granted for life to a nominee of the D. of
O s. The loan was mentioned in a mixed company by two of the
French-women and a Frenchman (none of whose names I know) in
Calonne's presence, who interrupted them, by asking, how they came
to know any thing of the matter, then set them right in two or three
particulars which they had misstated, and afterwards begged them , for
God's sake , not to talk of it, because it might be their complete ruin.
*' I am going to Bulstrode — but will return at a moment's notice, if I
can be of the least use in getting rid of this odious engagement , or pre-
venting its being entered into, if it should not be yet completed.
.".Yours ever,
"P."
" DEAR SHERIDAN,
" I think myself much obliged to you for what you have done. I hope
I am not too sanguine in looking to a good conclusion of this bad business.
1 will certainly be in town by two o'clock.
" B 'id* t rode , Monday , i4 Dec. " Yours ever,
9 A. M. t " p. "
?>s MEMOIRS
Mr. Sheridan , who was now high in the confidence of the Prince .
had twice , in the course of the year 1786, taken occasion to allude
publicly to the embarrassments of His Royal Highness. Indeed , the
decisive measure which this Illustrious Person himself had adopted ,
in reducing his establishment , and devoting a part of his income to
Ihe discharge of his debts , sufficiently proclaimed the (rue state of
affairs to the public. Still, however, the strange policy was perse-
vered in , of adding the discontent of the Heir-Apparent to the other
weapons in the hands of the Opposition ; — and , as might be expect-
ed , Ihey were not tardy in turning it to account. In the spring of
1787, the embarrassed state of His Royal Highness's affairs was
brought formally under the notice of parliament by Alderman
Newenham.
During one of the discussions to which the subject gave rise ,
Mr. Rolle, the member for Devonshire, a strong adherent of the
ministry, in deprecating the question about to be agitated , affirmed
that " it went immediately to affect our Constitution in Church and
Stale." In these solemn words it was well understood, that he al-
luded to a report at that time generally believed , and , indeed ,
acted upon by many in the etiquette of private life , that a marriage
had been solemnized between the Prince of Wales and Mrs. Filz-
licrbcrt — a lady of the Roman Catholic persuasion , who , with more
danger to her own peace than to that of either Church or State , had
for some time been the distinguished object of His Royal Highness's
affection.
Even had an alliance of this description taken place, the provisions
of the Royal Marriage Act would have nullified it into a mere
ceremony, inefficient, as it was supposed, for any other purpose
than that of satisfying the scruples of one of the parties. But that
dread of Popery, which in England starts at its own shadow, took
alarm at the consequences of an intercourse so heterodox; and it
became necessary, in the opinion of the Prince and his friends ,
to put an end to the apprehensions that were abroad on the subject.
Nor can it be denied that , in the minds of those who believed
that the marriage had been actually solemnized ', there were, in one
point of view , very sufficient grounds of alarm. By the Statute of
William and Mary, commonly called the Bill of Rights, it is enacted,
among other causes of exclusion from the throne, that " every
person who shall marry a Papist shall be excluded, and for ever be
incapable to inherit the crown of this realm. "—In such cases (adds
this truly revolutionary Act) " the people of these realms shall be
and are hereby absolved of their allegiance. " Under this Act,
' Home Tooke, in his insidious pamphlet on the subject, presumed so far on
this belief as to call Mrs. Fitzherbert "Her Royal Highness."
01 15. D. SHERIDAN 2J9
\vhich was confirmed fay the Act of Settlement, it is evident that the
Heir Apparent would , by such a marriage as was now attributed to
him , have forfeited his right of succession to the throne. From so
serious a penalty, however, it was generally supposed, he would
have been exempted by the operation of the Royal marriage Act
(12 George III.) 5 which rendered null and void any marriage
«>nfracted by any descendant of George II. without the previous
consent of the King, or a twelvemonth's notice given to the Privy
Council.
That this Act would have nullified the alleged marriage of the
Prince of Wales there is , of course, no doubt; — but that it would
have also exempted him from the forfeiture incurred by marriage
with a Papist, is a point which, in the minds of many, still remains
a question. There are, it is well known, analogous cases in Law,
where the nullity of an illegal transaction does not do away the
penalty attached to it x. To persons, therefore, who believed that the
actual solemnization of the marriage could be proved by witnesses
present at the ceremony , this view of the case , which seemed to
promise an interruption of the Succession , could not fail to suggest
some disquieting apprehensions and speculations , which nothing
short, it was thought, of a public and authentic disavowal of the
marriage altogether would be able effectually to allay.
If in politics Princes are unsafe allies, in connections of a tenderer
nature they are still more perilous partners ; and a triumph over a
Koyal lover is dearly bought by the various risks and humiliations
which accompany it. Not only is a lower standard of constancy
applied to persons of that rank, but when once love-affairs are
converted into matters of state , there is an end to all the delicacy
and mystery that ought to encircle them. The disavowal of a Royal
marriage in the Gazette would have been no novelty in English
history3; and the disclaimer, on the present occasion, though
intrusted to a less official medium, was equally public, strong, and
unceremonious.
Mr. Fox , who had not been present in the House of Commons
when the member for Devonshire alluded to the circumstance, took
' Thus a man , by contracting a second marriage pending the first marriage ,
commits a felony; and the crime, according to its legal description, consists iu
marrying, or contracting a marriage — though what he does is no more a marriage
than that of the Heir Apparent wonld be nnder the circumstances in question.
The same principle, it appears, runs through the whole Law of Entails, both
in England and Scotland ; and a variety of cases might he cited, in which , though
tfip act done is void , yet the doing of it creates a forfeiture.
See in Kllis's Lettcis of History, vol. iii, the declarations of Charles M. with
respect to his marriage with "one Mrs. Walters," signed by himself, and published
in The London Gazette.
530 MEMOIRS
occasion , on the next discussion of the question, and as he declared,
with the immediate authority of the Prince, to contradict the report
of the marriage in the fullest and most unqualified terms : — it was,
he said, " a miserable calumny, a low malicious falsehood, which
had been propagated without doors, and made the wanton sport of
the vulgar;— a tale, tit only to impose upon the lowest orders , a
monstrous invention, a report of a fact which had not the smallest
degree of foundation , actually impossible to have happened. " To
an observation from Mr. Rolle, that " they all knew there was an
Act of Parliament which forbade such a marriage; but that, though
it could not be done under the formal sanction of the law , there
were ways in which it might have taken place , and in which that
law, in the minds of some persons , might have been satisfactorily
evaded, " — Mr. Fox replied, that "he did not deny the calumny in
question merely with regard to certain existing laws , but that he
denied it in toto , in point of fact as well as of law. — it not only
never could have happened legally, but it never did happen in any
way whatsoever, and had from the beginning been a base and
malicious falsehood. ::
Though Mr. Rolle, from either obstinacy or real distrust, refused,
in spite of the repeated calls of Mr. Sheridan and Mr. Grey, to declare
himself satisfied with this declaration , it was felt by the minister to
be at least sufficiently explicit and decisive, to leave him no further
pretext , in the eyes of the public , for refusing the relief which the
situation of the Prince required. Accordingly, a message from the
Crown on the subject of His Royal Highnesses debts was followed
by an addition to his income of 10,000/. yearly out of the Civil List;
an issue of 161,000/. from the same source, for the discharge of his
debts; and 20,000/. on account of the works at Carlton House.
In the same proportion that this authorised declaration was
successful in satisfying the public mind, it must naturally have been
painful and humiliating to the person whose honour was involved
in it. The immediate consequence of this feeling was a breach
between that person and Mr. Fox, which, notwithstanding the
continuance , for so many years after , of the attachment of both to
the same illustrious object , remained'it is understood, unreconciled
to the last.
If, in the first movement of sympathy with the pain excited in that
quarter, a retractation of this public disavowal was thought of, the
impossibility of finding any creditable medium through which to
convey it must soon have suggested itself to check the intention.
Some middle course , however, it was thought might be adopted .,
which, without going the full length of retracting, might lend at least
to unsettle the impression left upon the public, and. in some degree,
OF R. B. SHERIDAN. »i
retrieve that loss of station, which a disclaimer, coining in such an
authentic shape, had entailed. To ask Mr. Fox to discredit his own
statement was impossible. An application was, therefore, made to a
young member of the parly, who was then fast rising into the
eminence which he has since so nobly sustained, and whose answer
to the proposal is said to have betrayed some of that unaccommodating
liijih-mindedness which, in more than one collision with Royalty,
has proved him but an unfit adjunct to a Court. The reply to his
refusal was, " Then, I must get Sheridan to say something; " — and
hence , it seems was the origin of those few dexterously unmeaning
compliments, with which the latter, when the motion of Alderman
Newenham was withdrawn , endeavoured, without in the least degree
weakening the declaration of Mr. Fox, to restore that equilibrium
of temper and self-esteem , which such a sacrifice of gallantry to
expediency had naturally disturbed. In alluding to the offer of the
Prince, through Mr. Fox, to answer any questions upon the subject
of his reported marriage, which it might be thought proper to put
to him in the House, Mr. Sheridan said, — " That no such idea had
been pursued , and no such enquiry had been adopted, was a point
which did credit to the decorum, the feelings, and the dignity of
Parliament. But whilst His Royal Highness's feelings had no doubt
been considered on this occasion, he must take the liberty of saying ,
however some might think it a subordinate consideration, that there
was another person entitled , in every delicate and honourable mind,
to the same attention ; one , whom he would not otherwise venture
to describe or allude to, but by saying it was a name, which malice
or ignorance alone could attempt to injure , and whose character and
conduct claimed and were entitled to the truest respect.1'
CHAPTER XI.
Impeachment of Mr. Hastings.
THE motion of Mr. Burke on the 10th of May, 1787, "That
Warren Hastings, Esq., be impeached," having been carried with-
out a division, Mr. Sheridan was appointed one of the Managers,
" to make good the Articles" of the Impeachment ; and, on the 3d
of June in the following year, brought forward the same Charge in
Westminster Hall which he had already enforced with such wonder-
ful talent in the House of Commons.
To be called upon for a second great effort of eloquence , on a
subject of which all the facts and the bearings remained the same ,
^;»s, it must be acknowledged, no ordinary trial to even the most
fertile genius ; and Mr. Fox , it is said , hopeless of any second flight
232 MEMOIRS
ever rising toihe grand elevation of the tirst , advised that the former
Speech should be , with very little change , repealed. But such a
plan, however welcome it might be to the indolence of his friend,
would have looked too like an acknowledgment of exhaustion on the
subject , to be submitted to by one so justly confident in the resources
both of his reason and fancy. Accordingly , he had the glory of
again opening , in the very same field , a new and abundant spring
of eloquence, which, during four days, diffused its enchantment
among an assembly of the most illustrious persons of the land , and
of which Mr. Burke pronounced at its conclusion, that " of all the
various species of oratory , of every kind of eloquence that had been
heard , either in ancient or modern limes ; whatever Ihe acuteness
of the bar, the dignity of Ihe senate , or Ihe morality of Ihe pulpil,
could furnish , had nol been equal lo what that House had that day
heard in Westminsler Hall. No holy religionist, no man of any
description as a lilerary character, could have come up, in the one
instance, to the pure senlimenls of morality , or in Ihe other , to the
varicly of knowledge , force of imaginalion , propriely and vivacity
of allusion , beauty and elegance of diction , and strength of ex-
pression , lo which they had that day listened. From poetry up lo
eloquence there was not a species of composition of which a com-
plete and perfect specimen might not have been culled, from one
part or the other of Ihe speech to which he alluded, and which , he
was persuaded , had left too strong an impression on the minds of
that House to be easily obliterated."
As some atonement to the world for the loss of the Speech in the
House of Commons , this second masler-piece of eloquence on the
same subject has been preserved to us in a Report , from the short-
hand notes of Mr. Gurney , which was for some time in the pos-
session of the late Duke of Norfolk , but was afterwards restored lo
Mr. Sheridan , and is now in my hands.
In order to enable the reader fully to understand the extracts from
this Report which I am about to give, it will be necessary to detail
briefly the history of the Iransaclion, on which the charge brought
forward in the Speech was founded.
Among the native Princes who , on the transfer of the sceptre of
Tamerlane to the East India Company , became tributaries or rather
slaves to that Honourable body , none seems to have been treated
with more capricious cruelty than Cheyte Sing, the Rajah of Benares.
In defiance of a solemn treaty , entered into between him and the
government of Mr. Hastings , by which it was stipulated that, be-
sides his fixed tribute , no further demands of any kind , should be
made upon him , new exactions were every year enforced ; — while
Ihe humble remonstrances of the Rajah against such gross injustice
01- it. H. SHERIDAN. 333
were not only treated with slight, hut punished b\ jirhilrary and
enormous tines. Even the proffer of a bribe succeeded only in being
accepted ' — the exactions which it was intended to avert being con-
tinued as rigorously as before. At length , in the year 1781 , Mr.
Hastings, who invariably, among the objects of his government,
placed the interests of Leadenhall-Slreet first on the list, and those
oi justice and humanity longo inlervallo after ,— finding the trea-
sury of the Company in a very exhausted state, resolved to sacrifice
this unlucky Rajah to their replenishment ; and having , as a pre-
liminary step, imposed upon him a mulct of 500,0007., set out
immediately for his capital, Benares, to compel the payment of it.
Here , after rejecting with insult the suppliant advances of the
Prince , he put him under arrest , and imprisoned him in his own
palace. This violation of the rights and the roof of their sovereign
drove the people of the whole province into a sudden burst of re-
bellion, of which Mr. Hastings himself was near being the victim.
The usual triumph , however , of might over right ensued •, the Ra-
jah's castle was plundered of all its treasures, and his mother, who
had taken refuge in the fort , and only surrendered it on the express
stipulation that she and the other princesses should pass out safe from
the dishonour of search , was , in violation of this condition , and at
the base suggestion of Mr. Hastings himself3, rudely examined and
despoiled of all her effects. The Governor-General , however , in
this one instance, incurred the full odium of iniquity without reap-
ing any of its reward. The treasures found in the castle of the Rajah
were inconsiderable , and the soldiers , who had shown themselves
so docile in receiving the lessons of plunder , were found inflexibly
obstinate in refusing to admit their instructor to a share. Disap-
pointed, therefore, in the primary object of his expedition, the
Governor-General looked round for some richer harvest of rapine,
and the Begums of Oude presented themselves as the most convenient
victims. These Princesses, the mother and grandmother of the
1 This was the transaction that formed one of the principal grounds of the
Seventh Charge brought forward in the House of Commons by Mr. Sheridan. The
tuspicioQs circumstances attending this present are thus summed up by Mr. Mill :
— "At first, perfect concealment of the transaction — such measures, however,
taken as may, if afterwards necessary, appear to imply a de.sign of future disclo-
sure;— when concealment becomes difficult and hazardous, then disclosure is made."
— History of 'British India
* In his letter to the Commanding Officer at Bidgegur, The following are the
terms in which he conveys the hint : «« I apprehend that she will contrive to
defraud the captors of a considerable part of the booty, by heiug suffered to retire
without examination. But this is your consideration, and not mine. I should !>••
\ery sorry that your officers and soldiers lost any part of the reward to which
they are so well entitled; but I cannot make any objection , as yon must be the
best judge of the expediency of the promised indulgence to the Rannee."
2J4 MEMOIRS
reigning Nabob of Oude , had been left by the late sovereign in
possession of certain government-estates , orjaghires, as well as of
all the treasure that was in his hands at the time of his death , and
which the orientalized imaginations of the English exaggerated to
an enormous sum. The present Nabob had evidently looked with an
eye of cupidity on this wealth , and had been guilty of some acts of
extortion towards his female relatives , in consequence of which the
English government had interfered between them , — and had even
guaranteed to the mother of the Nabob the safe possession of her
property, without any further encroachment whatever. Guarantees
and treaties, however, were but cobwebs in the way of Mr. Hastings ;
and on his failure at Benares , he lost no time in concluding an
agreement with the Nabob , by which (in consideration of certain
measures of relief to his dominions) this Prince was bound to plunder
his mother and grandmother of all their property , and place it at the
disposal of the Governor-General. In order to give a colour of
justice to this proceeding , it was ' pretended that these Princesses
had taken advantage of the late insurrection at Benares , to excite a
similar spirit of revolt in Oude against the reigning Nabob and the
English government. As Law is but too often , in such cases , the
ready accomplice of Tyranny , the services of the Chief Justice, Sir
Elijah Impey , were called in to suslain the accusations ; and the
wretched mockery was exhibited of a Judge travelling about in
search of evidence % for the express purpose of proving a charge,
upon which judgment had been pronounced and punishment decreed
already.
The Nabob himself, though sufficiently ready to make the wealth
of those venerable ladies occasionally minister to his wants , yet
shrunk back, with natural reluctance, from the summary task now
1 It was the practice of Mr. Hastings (says Bnrke, in his flue Speech on Mi-
Pitt's India Bill, March 22, 1786,) to examine the country, and wherever he
found money to affix guilt. A more dreadful fault could not he alleged against a
native than that he was rich."
' Thisjonruey of the Chief Justice in search of evidence is thus happily describ-
ed hy Sheridan in the Speech :— " When , on the 28th of November, he was
busied at Lucknow on that honourable business , and when , three days after, he
was found at Chunar, at the distance of 200 miles, still searching for affidavits,
and, like Hamlet's ghost, exclaiming 'Swear!' his progress on that occasion was
so whimsically rapid , compared with the gravity of his employ, that an observer
would be templed to quote again from the same scene, 'Ha! Old 1 ruepeuny,
canst thoa mole so fast J' the ground?' Here, however, the comparison ceased;
for, when Sir Elijah made his visit to Lucknow ' to wh^et the almost blunted pur-
pose1 of the Nabob, his language was wholly different from thai of the poet,—
for it would have been totally against his purpose to have said ,
• Taint uot thy mind , nor let tliy soul contrive
Agaiust thy mother anght.'"
OF R. B. SHERIDAN. S3S
imposed upon him ; and it was not till after repeated and peremptory
remonstrances from Mr. Hastings, that he could be induced to pul
himself at the head of a body of English troops , and take possession ,
by unrcsisted force , of the town and palace of these Princesses. As
Hie treasure, however, was still secure in the apartments of the
women, — that circle, within which even the spirit of English
rapine did not venture , — an expedient was adopted to get over this
inconvenient delicacy. Two aged eunuchs of high rank and distinc-
tion , the confidential agents of the Begums , were thrown into
prison , and subjected to a course of starvation and torture , by
which it was hoped that the feelings of their mistresses might be
worked upon, and a more speedy surrender of their treasure wrung
from them. The plan succeeded : — upwards of 500,000/. was pro-
cured to recruit the finances of the Company : and thus, according
to the usual course of British power in India , rapacity but levied its
contributions in one quarter, to enable war to pursue its desolating
career in another.
To crown all , one of the chief articles of the treaty , by which
the Nabob was reluctantly induced to concur in these atrocious
measures , was , as soon as the object had been gained , infringed
by Mr. Hastings, who, in a letter to his colleagues in the govern-
ment, honestly confesses that the concession of that article was only
a fraudulent artifice of diplomacy , and never intended to be carried
into effect.
Such is an outline of the case , which , with all its aggravating
details , Mr. Sheridan had to state in these two memorable Speeches 5
and it was certainly most fortunate for the display of his peculiar
powers , that this should be the Charge confided to his management.
For , not only was it the strongest , and susceptible of the highest
charge of colouring , but it had also the advantage of grouping to-
gether all the principal delinquents of the trial , and affording a
gradation of hue , from the showy and prominent enormities of the
Governor-General and Sir Elijah Impey in the front of the picture ,
to the subordinate and half-tint iniquity of the Middletons and
Bristows in the back-ground.
Mr. Burke, it appears, had at first reserved this grand part in
the drama of the Impeachment for himself 5 but, finding that She-
ridan had also fixed his mind upon it , he , without hesitation , re-
signed it into his hands ; thus proving the sincerity of his zeal in the
cause1, by sacrificing even the vanity of talent to its success.
1 Of the lengths to which this zeal could sometimes carry his fancy and lau-
i;ua{;e, rather, perhaps, than his actual feelings, the following anecdote is a
i-'-markable proof. On one of the days of the trial, Lord , who was then a boy,
having been introduced by a relative into the Manager's box,Ruike said to him,
23G MEMOIRS
The following letters from him, relative to the Impeachment ,
will be read with interest. The first is addressed to Mrs. Sheridan ,
and was written, I think, early in the proceedings ; the second is to
Sheridan himself : —
" MADAM,
" I am sure you will have the goodness to excuse the liberty I tako
\vith you, when you consider the interest which I have and which the
Public have (the said Public being, at least, half an inch a taller person
than I am,) in the use of Mr. Sheridan's abilities. I know that his mind
is seldom unemployed; but then , like all such great and vigorous minds,
it takes an eagle flight by itself, and \ve can hardly bring it to rustle
along the ground, with us birds of meaner wing, in coveys. I only beg
that you will prevail on Mr. Sheridan to be with us this day , at hall
after three , in the Committee. Mr. Wombell , the Paymaster of Oude ,
is to be examined there to-day. Oude is Mr. Sheridan's particular pro-
vince ; and I do most seriously ask that he would favour us with bis as-
sistance. What will come of the examination I know not; but, without
him, I do not expect a great deal from it; with him, I fancy we may get
out something material. Once more let me intreat your interest with
Mr. Sheridan and your forgiveness for being troublesome to you, and to
do me the justice to believe me, with the most sincere respect,
" Madam, your most obedient
" and faithful humble Servant ,
" Thursday , 9 o'clock. " EI>M. BURKE."
" MY DEAR SIR,
" You have only to wish to be excused to succeed in your wishes; —
for, indeed, he must be a great enemy to himself who can consent , on
account of a momentary ill-humour, to keep himself at a distance
from you.
" Well, all will turn out. right, — and half of you , or a quarter, is
worth five other men. I think that this cause, which was originally
yours, will be recognized by you, and that you will again possess your-
self of it. The owner's mark is on it, and all our docking and cropping
cannot hinder its being known and cherished by its original master. My
most humble respects to Mrs. Sheridan. I am happy to find that she takes
in good part the liberty I presumed to take with her. Grey has done mucb
and will do every thing. It is a pity that he is not always toned to the
full extent of his talents.
"Most truly yours,
kt Monday. " EDM. BUKKK.
" I feel a little sickish at the approaching day. I have read much— ton
"I am glad to see yon here— I shall be still gladder to see you there— (pointing
to the Peers' seats) — I hope you will be in at the death— I should like to blood
vou."
OF R. B. SHF.RIDAN. ?17
much, perhaps, — ami, in 1 nil h, am but poorly prepared. Many tilings,
too, have broken in. upon me '."
Though a Report , however accurate, must always do injustice to
that effective kind of oratory which is intended rather to be heard
than read, and, though frequently, the passages, that most roused
and interested the hearer, are those that seem afterwards the tritest
and least animating for the reader2, yet , with all this disadvantage,
the celebrated oration in question so well sustains its reputation in
the perusal , that it would be injustice, having an authentic Report
in my possession , not to produce some specimens of its style and
spirit.
In the course of thfe exordium , after dwelling upon the great
importance of the enquiry in which they were engaged, and dis-
claiming for himself and his brother-managers any feeling of per-
s< mal malice against thedefendanl, or any motive but that of retrieving
(he honour of the British name in India , and bringing down pu-
nishment upon those whose inhumanity and injustice had disgraced
it, — he thus proceeds to conciliate the Court by a warm tribute to
the purity of English justice : —
"However, when I have said this, I trust Your Lordships will not
believe that, because something is necessary to retrieve the British cha-
racter, we call for an example to be made, without due and solid proof
of the guilt of the person whom we pursue:— no, my Lords, we know
well that it is the glory of this Constitution , that not the general fame
or character of any man — not the weight or power of any prosecutor — no
plea of moral or political expediency— not even the secret consciousness of
guilt , which may live in the bosom of the Judge , can justify any British
Court in passing any sentence , to touch a hair of the head, or an atom ,
in any respect, of the property , of the fame, of the liberty of the poorest
or meanest subject that breathes the air of this just and free land. We
know, my Lords, that there can be no legal guilt without legal proof,
and that the rule which defines the evidence is as much the law of the
land as that which creates the crime. It is upon that ground we mean to
stand."
Among those ready equivocations and disavowals , to which
Mr. Hastings had recourse upon every emergency, and in which
practice seems to have rendered him as shameless as expert , the
step which he took with regard to his own defence during the trial
was not the least remarkable for promptness and audacity. He had,
1 For this letter, as well as some other valuable communications, I am indebted
tn the kindness of Mr. Burgess, — the Solicitor and friend of Sheridan during the
last twenty years of his life.
1 The converse assertion is almost equally true. Mr. Fox n»ed to ask of a
printed speech, 'Does it read well?" and if answered in the affirmative, said,
" Then it was a bad speech."
23S MEMOIRS
at the commencement of the prosecution , delivered at the bar of
the House of Commons , as his own , a written refutation of the
charges then pending against him in that House, declaring , at the
same time , that " if truth could tend to convict him , he was con-
tent to be, himself, the channel to convey it." Afterwards, however,
on finding that he had committed himself rather imprudently in this
defence , he came forward to disclaim it at the bar of the House of
Lords , and brought his friend Major Scott to prove that it had been
drawn up by Messrs. Shore, Middle ton , etc. etc. — that he him-
self had not even seen it, and therefore ought not to be held
accountable for its contents. In adverting to this extraordinary eva-
sion , Mr. Sheridan thus shrewdly and playfully exposes all the
persons concerned in it : —
" Major Scott conies to your bar — describes the shortness of time — re-
presents Mr. Hastings as it were contracting for A character — putting his
memory into commission— making departments for his conscience. A
number of friends meet together , and he, knowing (no doubt) that the
accusation of the Commons had been drawn up by a Committee, thought
it necessary, as a point of punctilio, to answer it by a Committee also.
One furnishes the raw material of fact , the second spins the argument ,
and the third twines up the conclusion; while Mr. Hastings, with a
master's eye, is cheering and looking over this loom. He says to one,
' You have got my good faith in your hands— you, my veracity to ma-
nage. Mr. Shore, I hope you will make me a good financier— Mr. Mid-
dleton, you have my humanity in commission.' — When it is done, he
brings it to the House of Commons , and says, ' I was equal to the task.
I knew the difficulties, but I scorn them : here is the truth, and if the
truth will convict me, I am content myself to be the channel of it.' His
friends bold up their heads, and say, 'What noble magnanimity! This
must be the effect of conscious and real innocence.' Well, it is so received,
it is so argued upon,— but it fails of its effect
*' Then says Mr. Hastings, — ' That my defence ! no, mere journeyman-
work, — good enough for the Commons, but not fit for Your Lordships'
consideration.' He then calls upon his Counsel to save him : — ' I fear
none of my accuser's witnesses — I know some of them well— I know
the weakness of their memory , and the strength of their attachment — I
fear no testimony but my own — save me from the peril of my own pane-
gyric— preserve me from that, and I shall be safe.' Then is this plea
brought to Your Lordships' bar, and Major Scott gravely asserts,— that
Mr. Hastings did, at the bar of the House of Commons, vouch for facts
of which he was ignorant , and for arguments which he had never read.
" After such an attempt, we certainly are left in doubt to decide, to
which set of his friends Mr. Hastings is the least obliged, those who as-
sisted him in making his defence, or those who advised him to deny it."
He thus describes the feelings of the people of the East with
respect to the unapproachable sanctity of their Zenanas ; —
OF R. B. SHERIDAN. 539
" It is too much, I am afraid , the case, that persons, used to Euro-
pean manners „ do not take up these sort of considerations at first with
the seriousness that is necessary. For Your Lordships cannot even learn
the right nature of those people's feelings and prejudices from any his-
tory oi oilier Mahometan countries, — not even from that of the Turks ,
for they are a mean and degraded race in comparison with many of these
great families, who, inheriting from their Persian ancestors, preserve a
purer style of prejudice and a loftier superstition. Women there are not
as in Turkey — they neither go to the mosque nor to the bath— it is not
the thin veil alone that hides them— but in the inmost recesses of their
Zenana they are kept from public view by those reverenced and protected
walls, which, as Mr. Hastings and Sir Elijah Impey admit, are held
sacred even by the ruffian hand of war, or by the more uncourteous hand
of the law. But, in this situation , they are not confined from a mean and
selfish policy of man— not from a coarse and sensual jealousy— enshrined,
rather than immur. d, their habitation and retreat is a sanctuary, not a
prison — their jealousy is their own — a jealousy of their own honour,
that leads them to regard liberty as a degradation, and the gaze of even
admiring eyes as inexpiable pollution to the purity of their fame and the
sanctity of their honour.
" Such being the general opinion, (or prejudices, let them be called,)
of this country, Your Lordships will find, that whatever treasures were
given or lodged in a Zenana of this description must, upon the evidence
of the thing itself, be placed beyond the reach of resumption. To dispute
with the Counsel about the original right to those treasures — to talk of a
title to them by the Mahometan law ! — their title to them is the title of
a Saint to the relics upon an altar, placed there by Piety ' , guarded by
holy Superstition, and to be snatched from thence only by Sacrilege."
In showing lhat the Nabob was driven to this robbery of his
relatives by other considerations than those of the pretended re-
bellion, which was afterwards conjured up by Mr. Hastings to
justify it, " he says, —
" The fact is, that through all his defences — through all his various
false suggestions — through all these various rebellions and disaffections ,
Mr. Hastings never once lets go this plea— of tinextinguishable right in
the Nabob. He constantly represents the seizing the treasures as a re-
sumption of a right which he could not part with ; — as if there were lite-
rally something in the Koran , that made it criminal in a true Mussulman
to keep his engagements with his relations, and impious in a son to
abstain from plundering his mother. I do gravely assure Your Lordships
1 This metaphor was rather roughly handled afterwards (1794) by Mr. Law,
one of the adverse Counsel , who asked , how could the Regain be considered as
''a Saint," or how were the camels, which formed part of the treasure, to be
" placed upon the altar?" Sheridan, in reply, said, " It was the first time in hi»
life he had ever heard of special pleading on a metaphor, or a bill of indictment
.i-.iinst a trope. But such was the tarn of the Learned Counsel's miud , that, when
he attempted to be humorous, no jest could be found, and, when serious, no
fact was risible."
540 MEMOIRS
that there is no such doctrine in the Koran, and no such principle
makes a part in the civil or municipal jurisprudence of that country.
Even after these Princesses had been endeavouring to dethrone the Nahob
and to extirpate the English, the only plea the Nahob ever makes, is his
right under the Mahomedan law; and the truth is, he appears never to
have heard any other reason, and I pledge myself to make it appear to
Your Lordships, however extraordinary it may be , that not only had the
Nabob never heard of the rebellion till the moment of seizing the palace,
but, still further, that he never heard of it at all; — that this extraor-
dinary rebellion , which was as notorious as the rebellion of ij$ in Lon-
don, was carefully concealed from those two parties — the Begums who
plotted it, and the Nabob who was to be the victim of it.
" The existence of this rebellion was not the secret, but the notoriety
of it was the secret ; — it was a rebellion which had for its object the
destruction of no human creature but those who planned it; — it was a
rebellion which, according to Mr. Middleton's expression, no man,
either horse or foot, ever marched to quell. The Chief Justice was the
only man who took the field against it, — the force against which it was
raised, instantly withdrew to give it elbow-room, — and, even then, it
was a rebellion which perversely showed itself in acts of hospitality to
the Nabob whom it was to dethrone , and to the English whom it was to
extirpate ;— it was a rebellion plotted by two feeble old women , headed
by two eunuchs , and suppressed by an affidavit."
The acceptance , or rather exaction , of the private present
of 100,000/. is thus animadverted upon :
" My Lords, such was the distressed situation of the Nabob about a
twelvemonth before Mr. Hastings met him at Chunar. It was a twelve-
month , I say , after this miserable scene — a mighty period in the progress
of British rapacity — it was ( if the Counsel will) after some natural cala-
mities had aided the superior rigour of British violence and rapacity — it
was after the country had felt other calamities besides the English — it
was after the angry dispensations of Providence had, with a progressive
severity of chastisement, visited the land with a famine one year, and
with a Col. Hannay the next — it was after he, this Hannay, had returned
to retrace the steps of his former ravages— it was after he and his voracious
crew had come to plunder ruins which himself had made, and to glean
from desolation the little that famine had spared , or rapine overlooked ;
— then it was that this miserable , bankrupt Prince marching, through
his country, besieged by the clamours of his starving subjects, who cried
to him for protection through their cages — meeting the curses of some
of his subjects, and the prayers of others — with famine at his heels, and
reproach following him, — then it was that this Prince is represented as
exercising this act of prodigal bounty to the very man whom he here
reproaches — to the very man whose policy had extinguished his power,
and whose creatures had desolated his country. To talk of a free-will gift !
it is audacious and ridiculous to name the supposition. It was not a free-
will gift. What was it then ? was it a bribe ? or was it extortion ? I shall
prove it was both — it was an act of gross bribery and of rank extortion."
OF R. B. SHERIDAN. 8*1
Again he thus adverts to this present :
" The first, thing he does , is to leave Calcutta, in order to go to the
relief of the distressed Nabob. The second thing, is to take ioo,ooo/. from
that distressed Nabob on account of the distressed Company. And the
third tiling is to ask of the distressed company this very same sum, on
account of the distresses of Mr. Hastings. There never were three dis-
tresses that seemed so little reconcileable with one another."
Anticipating the plea of slate-necessity, which might possibly be
set up in defence of the measures of the Governor-General , he
breaks out into the following rhetorical passage : —
"State necessity! no, my Lords; that imperial tyrant, State-Neces-
sity, is yet a generous despot, — bold is his demeanour, rapid his deci-
sions, and terrible his grasp. But what he does, my Lords, he dares
avow, and, avowing, scorns any other justification, than the great mo-
tives that placed the iron sceptre in his hand. But a quibbling, pilfering,
prevaricating State-Necessity , that tries to skulk behind the skirts of
Justice; — a State-Necessity that tries to steal a pitiful justification from
whispered accusations and fabricated rumours; — No, my Lords, that is
no State-Necessity; — tear off the mask, and you see coarse, vulgar ava-
rice,—you see peculation, lurking under the gaudy disguise, and adding
the guilt of libelling the public honour toils own private fraud.
" My Lords , I say this, because I am sure the Managers would make
every allowance that state-necessity could claim upon any great emer-
gency. If any great man in bearing the arms of this country; — if any
Admiral, bearing the vengeance and the glory of Britain to distant coasts,
should be compelled to some rash acts of violence, in order, perhaps , to
give food to those who are shedding their blood for Britain ; —if any great
General, defending some fortress, barren itself, perhaps, but a pledge
of the pride, and, with the pride, of the power of Britain ; if such a man
were to * * * while he himself was * * at the top, like an eagle
besieged in its imperial nest ' ;— would the Commons of England come
to accuse or to arraign such acts of state-necessity ? No."
In describing that swarm of English pensioners and placemen ,
who were still , in violation of the late purchased treaty, left to
prey on the finances of the Nabob , he says , —
"Here we find they were left, as heavy a weight upon the Nabob as
over, — left there with as keen an appetite, though not so clamorous.
They were reclining on the roots and shades of that spacious tree, which
their predecessors had stripped, branch and bough — watching with
eager eyes the first budding of a future prosperity, and of the opening
karvest which they considered as the prey of their perseverance and
rapacity."
We have, in the close of the following passage, a specimen of
1 The Reporter, at many of these passages, seems to have thrown aside his pea
in despair.
16
242 MEMOIRS
lhal lofty style, in which, as if under the influence of Eastern
associations , almost all the Managers of this Trial occasionally in-
dulged ' . —
" I do not mean to say that Mr. Middleton had direct instructions from
Mr. Hastings, — thathetold him to go, and give that fallacious assurance to
the Nabob, — that he had that order under his hand. No — hut in looking
attentively over Mr. Middleton's correspondence, you will find him say,
upon a more important occasion, ' I don't expect your public authority
for this; — it is enough if you hut hint your pleasure.' He knew him well ;
he could interpret every nod and motion of that head ; he understood the
glances of that eye which sealed the perdition of nations, and at whose
llirone Princes waited, in pale expectation , for their fortune or their
doom."
The following is one of those laboured passages , of which the
orator himself ,was perhaps most proud , but in which Ihe effort
to be eloquent is too visible, and the effect, accordingly, falls short
of the pretension : —
" You see how Truth— empowered hy that will which gives a giant's
nerve to an infant's arm — has hurst the monstrous mass of fraud that has
endeavoured to suppress it — calls now to Your Lordships, in the weak
but clear tone of that Cherub, Innocence, whose voice is more persuasive
than eloquence , more convincing than argument , whose look is suppli-
cation, whose tone is conviction, — it calls upon you for redress, it calls
upon you for vengeance upon the oppressor, and points its heaven-di-
rected hand to the detested, but unrepenting author of its wrongs !"
His description of the desolation brought upon some provinces
ofOudc by the misgovernment of Colonel Hannay, and of the in-
surrection at Goruckporc against that officer in consequence, is,
perhaps, the most masterly porlion of the whole speech : —
" If we could suppose 9 person to have come suddenly into the country,
unacquinted with any circumstances that had passed since the days of Sujah
ulDowlah, he would naturally ask— what cruel hand has wrought this wide
desolation, what barbarian foe has invaded the country, has desolated its
fields, depopulated its villages ? He would ask , what disputed succession
' Much of this, however, is to be set down to the gratuitous bombast of the
Reporter. Mr. Fox, for instance, is made to say, "\es, my Lords, happy is it for
the world, that the penetrating gaze of Providence searches after man, and in the
dark den where he has stifled the remonstrances of conscience, darts his compnl-
satory ray, that, bursting the secrecy of guilt, drives the criminal frantic to con-
fession and expiation." History of the Trial. — Even one of the Counsel , Mr. Dallas,
is represented as having caught this Oriental contagion , to such a degree as to
express himself in the following manner: — "We are now, however, (said the
Counsel) advancing from the star-light of Circumstance to the day light of
Discovery; the sun of Certainty is melting the darkness, aad — we are arrived at
facts adm itted hy both parlies '. "
OF R. B SHERIDAN. 5*3
civil rage, or frenzy of the inhabitants, had induced them to act in hosti-
lity to the words of God, and the beauteous works of man? He would
ask , what religious zeal or frenzy had added to the mad despair and
horrors of war? — The ruin is unlike any thing that appears recorded in
any age; it looks like neither the barbarities of men, nor the judgments
of vindictive heaven. There is a waste of desolation, as if caused by fell
destroyers, never meaning to return, and making but a short period, of
I heir rapacity. It looks as if some fabled monster had made its passage
through the country, whose pestiferous breath had blasted more than its
voracious appetite could devour.
" If there had been any men in the country, who had not their hearts
and souls so subdued by fear, as to refuse to speak the truth at all upon
such a subject, they would have told him there had been no war since
the time of Sujah ul Dowlah, — tyrant, indeed, as he was, but then deeply
regretted by his subjects — that no hostile blow of auy enemy had been
struck in that land — that there had been no disputed succession — no civil
war— no religious frenzy. But that these were the tokens of British
friendship, the marks left by the embraces of British allies— ^more dread-
ful than the blows of the bitterest enemy. They would tell him that these
allies had converted a prince into a slave , to make him the principal in
the extortion upon his subjects ; —that their rapacity increased in propor-
tion as the means of supplying their avarice diminished; that they made
the sovereign pay as if they had a right to an increased price, because the
labour of extortion and plunder increased. To such causes, they would
tell him , these calamities were owing.
" Need I refer Your Lordships to the strong testimony of Major Naylor
when he rescued Colonel Hannay from their hands — where you see that
this people, born to submission and bent to most abject subjection — that
even they, in whose meek hearts injury had never yet begot resentment,
nor even despair bred courage — that their hatred, their abhorrence of
Colonel Hannay was such that they clung round him by thousands and
thousands ; — that when Major Naylor rescued him, they refused life from
the hand that could rescue Hannay ;— that they nourished this desperate
consolation, that by their death they should at least thin the number of
wretches who suffered by his devastation and extortion. He says that,
when he crossed the river, he found the poor wretches quivering upon
the parched banks of the polluted river encouraging their blood to flow ,
and consoling themselves with the thought, that it would not sink into
the earth, but rise to the common God of humanity, and cry aloud for
vengeance on their destroyers ! — This warm description— which is no de-
clamation of mine , but founded in actual fact , and in fair, clear proof
before Your Lordships— speaks powerfully what the cause of these oppres-
sions were, and the perfect justness of those feelings that were occasioned
by them. And yet, my Lords, I am asked to prove why these people arose in
such concert : — * there must have been machinations forsooth, and the Be-
gums' machinations to produce all this!'— Why did they rise! — Because
they were people in human shape; because patience under the detested ty-
ranny of man is rebellion to the sovereignty ofGod; because allegiance to that
Power that gives us {he forms of men commands us to maintain the rights
of men . And never yet was th is truth dismissed from the human heart— never
344 MEMOIRS
in any time, in any age — never in any clime, where rude man ever had any-
social feeling, or where corrupt refinement had suhdued all feelings, — never
\vasthis one unextinguishable truth destroyed from the heart of man, placed
as it is, in the core and centre of it hy his Maker, that man was not
made the properly of man ; that human power is a trust for human be-
nefit; and that when it is abused, revenge becomes justice , if not the
bounden duty of the injured. These, my Lords, were the causes why
these people rose."
Another passage in the second day's Speech is remarkable, as
exhibiting a sort of tourney of intellect between Sheridan and Burke,
and in that field of abstract speculation , which was the favourite
arena of the latter. Mr. Burke had , in opening the prosecution ,
remarked , that prudence is a quality incompatible with vice , and
can never be effectively enlisted in its cause : — •' I never (he said)
knew a man who was bad fit for service that was good. There is
always some disqualifying ingredient , mixing and spoiling the
compound. The man seems paralytic on that side, bis muscles
there have lost their very tone and character — they cannot move .
In short , the accomplishment of any tiling good is a physical impos-
sibility for such a man. There is decrepitude as well as distortion :
be could not if he would , is not more certain than that he would
not if be could." To this sentiment the allusions in the following
passage refer : —
" I am perfectly convinced that there is one idea which must arise in
Your Lordships' minds as a subject of wonder, — how a person of Mr. Has-
tings's reputed abilities can furnish such matter of accusation against him-
self. For, it must he admitted that never was there a person who seems
to go so rashly to work, with such an arrogant appearance of contempt
for all conclusions, that may be deduced from what he advances upon
the subject. \Vhen he seems most earnest and laborious to defend himself,
it appears as if he had but one idea uppermost in his mind — a determi-
nation not to care what he says, provided lie keeps clear of fact. He knows
that truth must convict him , and concludes, a converso , that falsehood
will acquit him ; forgetting that there must be some connexion , some
system, some co-operation, or, otherwise, his host of falsities fall without
an enemy, self-discomfited and destroyed. But of this he never seems to
have had the slightest apprehension. He falls to work , an artificer of
fraud , against all the rules of architecture ;— he lays his ornamental
work first, and his mas*y foundation at the top of it ; and thus his whole
building tumbles upon his head. Other people look well to their ground ,
choose their position, and watch whether they are likely to be surprised
there; but he, as if in the ostentation of his heart, builds upon a preci-
pice, and encamps upon a mine, from choice. He seems to have no one
actuating principle, but a steady, persevering resolution not to speak the
truth or to tell the fact.
" It is impossible almost to treat conduct of this kind with perfect
seriousness ; yet I am aware that it ought to be more seriously accounted
OF R. B. SHERIDAN . 245
for— because I am sure it has been a sort of paradox, which must have
struck Your Lordships, how any person having so many motives to
conceal— having so many reasons to dread detection — should yet go to
work so clumsily upon the subject. It is possible , indeed , that it may
raise this doubt— whether such a person is of sound mind enough to be a
proper object of punishment ; or at least it may give a kind of confused
notion, that the guilt cannot be of so deep and black a grain, over which
such a thin veil was thrown, and so little trouble taken to avoid detection.
1 am aware that, to account, for this seeming paradox, historians, poets,
and even philosophers— at least of ancient times -have adopted the su-
perstitious solution of the vulgar, and said that the gods deprive men of
reason whom they devote to destruction or to punishment. But to unas-
suming or unprejudiced reason, there is no need to resort to any supposed
supernatural interference; for the solution will be found in the eternal
rules that formed the mind of man, and gave a quality and nature to
every passion that inhabits in it.
" An Honourable friend of mine, who is now, I believe, near
me— a gentleman , to whom I never can on any occasion refer with-
out feelings of respect, and, on this subject without feelings of the
most grateful homage; a gentleman, whose abilities upon this occa-
sion , as upon some former ones, happily for the glory of the age in
which we live, are not entrusted merely to the perishable eloquence of
the day, but will live to be the admiration of that hour when all of us are
mute, and most of us forgotten ; — that honourable gentleman has told you
that Prudence, the first of virtues, never can be used in the cause of vice.
IT, reluctant and diffident, I might take such a liberty^! should express
a doubt, whether experience, observation, or history, will warrant us in
fully assenting to this observation. It is a noble and a lovely sentiment,
my Lords, worthy the mind of him who uttered it, worthy that proud
disdain, that generous scorn of the means and instruments of vice, which
virtue and genius must ever feel. But I should doubt whether we can read
the history of a Philip of Macedon, a Caesar, or a Cromwell, without con-
fessing, that there have been evil purposes, baneful to the peace and to
the rights of men conducted — if I may not say, with prudence or with
wisdom — yet with awful craft, and most successful and commanding
subtlety. If, however, I might make a distinction , I should say that it is
the proud attempt to mix a variety of lordly crimes, that unsettles the
prudence of the mind, and breeds this distraction of the brain. One
master-passion, domineering in the breast, may win the faculties of the
understanding to advance its purpose, and to direct to that object every
thing that thought or human knowledge can affect; but, to succeed, it
must maintain a solitary despotism in the mind;— each rival profligacy
must stand aloof, or wait in abject vassalage upon its throne. For, the
Power that has not forbad the entrance of evil passions into man's mind ^
has at least forbad their union ; — if they meet, they defeat their object ,
and their conquest or their attempt at it is tumult. Turn to the Virtues
— how different the decree! Formed to connect, to blend, to associate,
and to co-operate; bearing the same course, with kindred energies and
harmonious sympathy, each perfect in its own lovely sphere, each moving
in its wider or more contracted orbit, with different but concentering
24G MEMOIRS
powers, guided by the same influence of reason , and endeavouring at
the same blessed end — the happiness of the individual, the harmony of
the species, and the glory of the Creator. In the Vices, on the other hand,
it is the discord that insures the defeat — each clamours to be heard in its
own barbarous language; each claims the exclusive cunning of the brain;
each thwarts and reproaches the other; and even while their fell rage
assails with common hate the peace and virtue of the world, the civil
war among their own tumultuous legions defeats the purpose of the foul
conspiracy. These are the Furies of the mind, my Lords, that unsettle
the understanding; these are the Furies, that destroy the virtue, Pru-
dence,— while the distracted brain and shivered intellect proclaim the'
tumult that is within, and bear their testimonies, from the mouth of God
himself, to the foul condition of the heart."
The part of the Speech which occupied the Third Day (and
which was interrupted by the sudden indisposition of Mr. She-
ridan) consists chiefly of comments upon the affidavits taken before
Sir Elijah Impcy, — in which the irrelevance and inconsistency of
these documents is shrewdly exposed, and the dryness of detail,
inseparable from such a task , enlivened by those light touches of
conversational humour, and all that by-play of eloquence of which
Mr. Sheridan was such a consummate master. But it was on the
Fourth Day of the oration that he rose into his most ambitious
(lights , and produced some of those dazzling bursts of declama-
tion, of which the traditional fame is most vividly preserved.
Among the audience of that day was Gibbon , and the mention of
his name in the following passage not only produced its effect at
(he moment, but, as connected with literary anecdote, will make
the passage ilself long memorable. Politics are of the day, but
Literature is of all time — and , though it was in the power of the
orator, in his brief moment of triumph , to throw a lustre over the
historian by a passing epithet1, the name of the latter will, at the
long run , pay back the honour with interest. Having reprobated
the violence and perfidy of the Governor-General, in forcing the
Nabob to plunder his own relatives and friends, he adds : —
" I do say, that if you search the history of the world, you will not find
an act of tyranny and fraud to surpass this; if you read all past histories,
peruse the Annals of Tacitus, read the luminous page of Gibbon , and all
the ancient or modern writers that have searched into the depravity of
1 Gibbon himself thought it an event worthy of record in his Memoirs. " Before
my departure from England ( he says) , I was present at the august spectacle of
Mr. Hastings's trial in Westminster Hall. It is not my province to absolve or
condemn the Governor of India; but Mr. Sheridan's eloquence demanded my
applause; nor could I hear without emotion the personal compliment which he
paid me in the presence of the British nation. From this display of genius, which
blazed four successive days ," etc. etc.
OF R. B. SHERIDAN. 247
former ages to draw a lesson for the present, you will not find an act of
treacherous, deliberate, cool cruelty that could exceed this."
On being asked by some honest brother Whig, at the conclusion
of the Speech , how he came to compliment Gibbon with the epithet
" luminous," Sheridan answered, in a half whisper, " I said ' vo-
luminous.'"
It is well known that the simile of the vulture and the lamb, which
occurs in the address of Holla to the Peruvians , had been pre-
viously employed by Mr. Sheridan , in this Speech 5 and it showed
a degree of indifference to criticism, — which criticism, it must
be owned, not unfrcquently deserves, — to reproduce before the
public an image , so notorious both from its application and its
success. But , called upon , as he was , to levy, for the use of that
Drama , a hasty conscription of phrases and images , all of a certain
allilude and pomp, this veteran simile, he thought, might be
pressed into the service among the rest. The passage of the Speech
in which it occurs is left imperfect in the Report ; —
" This is the character of all the protection ever afforded to the allies of
Hritain under the government of Mr. Hastings. They send their troops to
drain the produce of industry, to seize all the treasures, wealth, and pros-
perity of the country, and then they call it Protection! — it is the protec-
tion of the vulture to the lamb.* **********
The following is his celebrated delineation of Filial Affection , to
which reference is more frequently made than to any other part of
the Speech ; — though the gross inaccuracy of the printed Report
has done its utmost to belie the reputation of the original passage ,
or rather has substituted a changeling to inherit its fame.
*' When I see in many of these letters the infirmities of age made a
subject of mockery and ridicule ; when I see the feelings of a son treated
l\y Mr. Middleton as puerile and contemptible; when 1 see an order given
from Mr. Hastings to harden that son's heart, to choke the struggling
nature in his bosom ; when I see them pointing to the son's name' and to
his standard, while marching to oppress the mother, as to a banner that
gives dignity, that gives a h6ly sanction and a reverence to their enter-
prise; when I see and hear these things done — when I hear them brought
into three deliberate Defenses set up against the Charges of the Commons
— my Lords, 1 own I grow puzzled and confounded, and almost begin to
doubt whether, where such a defence can be offered, it may not be
tolerated.
" And yet, my Lords, how can I support the claim of filial love by
argument — much less the affection of a son to a mother — where love loses
its awe, and veneration is mixed with tenderness? What can I say upon
such a subject, what can I do but repeat the ready truths which, with
the quick impulse of the mind , must spring to the lips of every man on
such a theme ? Filial Love ! the morality of instinct , the sacrament of
248 MEMOIRS
nature and duty, or rather let me say, it is miscalled a duty, for it flows
from the heart without effort, and is its delight, its indulgence, its en-
joyment. It is guided not hy the slow dictates of reason; it awaits not
encouragement from reflection or from thought ; it asks no aid of me-
mory ; it is an innate, but active, consciousness of having b en the object
of a thousand tender solicitudes , a thousand waking watchful cares , of
meek anxiety and patient sacrifices, unremarked and unrequited hy the
object. It is a gratitude founded upon a conviction of obligations, not re-
membered; but the more binding because not remembered, —because con-
ferred before the tender reason could acknowledge, or the infant memory
record them — a gratitude and affection, which no circumstances should sub-
due, and which few can strengthen; a gratitude, in which even injury from
the object, though it may blend regret, should never breed resentment; an
affection which can be increased only by the decay of those to whom we owe
it, and which is then most fervent when the tremulous voice of age, re-
sistless in its feebleness, enquires for the natural protector of its cold decline.
" If these are the general sentiments of man, what must be their de-
pravity, what must be their degeneracy, who can blot out and erase from
the bosom the virtue that is deepest rooted in the human heart, and
twined within the cords of life itself— aliens from nature, apostates from
humanity! And yet, if there is a crime more fell, more foul— if there is
any thing worse than a wilful persecutor of his mother — it is to see a deli-
berate, reasoning instigator and abettor to the deed; — this it is that
shocks , disgusts, and appals the mind more than the other — to view,
not a wilful parricide, but a parricide by compulsion, a miserable wretch,
not actuated by the stubborn evils of his own worthless heart , not driven
by the fury of his own distracted brain, but lending his sacrilegious hand ,
without anv malice of his own, to answer the abandoned purposes of the
human fiends that have subdued his will!— To condemn crimes like
these, we need not talk of laws or of human rules — their foulness , their
deformity does not depend upon local constitutions, upon human insti-
tutes or religious creeds :— they are crimes -and the persons who per-
petuate them are monsters who violate the primitive condition , upon
which the earth was given to man— they are guilty by the general verdict
of human kind."
In some of the sarcasms we are reminded of the quaint contrasts
of his dramatic style. Thus : —
" I must also do credit to them whenever I see any thing like lenity in
Mr. Middleton or his agent: -they do seem to admit here, that it was
not worth while to commit a massacre for the discount of a small note
of hand , and to put two thousand women and children to death , in order
to procure prompt payment."
Of the length to which the language of crimination was carried ,
as well by Mr. Sheridan as by Mr. Burke, one example, out of
many, will suffice. It cannot fail, however, to be remarked that,
while the denunciations and invectives of Burke are filled throughout
with a passionate earnestness, which leaves no doubt as to the sin-
OF R. B. SHERIDAN. 249
eerily of the hate and anger professed by him , — in Sheridan ,
whose nature was of a much gentler cast, the vehemence is evi-
dently more in the words than in the feeling, the tone of indignation
is theatrical and assumed , and the brightness of the flash seems to
be more considered than the deslrucliveness of the fire : —
" It is this circumstance of deliberation and consciousness of his guilt —
it is this that inflames the minds of those who watch his transactions ,
and roots out all pity for a person who could act under such an influence.
We conceive of such tyrants as Caligula and Nero, bred up to tyranny
and oppression, having bad no equals to controul them — no moment for
reflection — we conceive that, if it could have been possible to seize the
guilty profligates for a moment, you migbt bring conviction to their
hearts and repentance to their minds. But when you see a cool , reason-
ing , deliberate tyrant— one who was not born and bred to arrogance, —
who has been nursed in a mercantile line — who has been used to look
round among liis fellow-subjects— to transact business with his equals — to
account for conduct to his master , and , by that wise system of the Com-
pany, to detail all bis transactions — who never could fly one moment
from himself, but must be obliged every night to sit down and hold up a
glass to bis own soul— who could never be blind to his deformity; and
who must have brought his conscience not only to connive at but to ap-
prove of it — this it is that distinguishes it from the worst cruelties, the
worst enormities of those who, born to tyranny, and Gnding no supe-
rior, no adviser, have gone to the last presumption that there were none
above to controul them hereafter. This is a circumstance that aggravates
the whole of the guilt of the unfortunate gentleman we are now arraign-
ing at your bar. "
We now come to the Peroration , in which , skilfully and without
appearance of design , it is conlrived lhat the same sort of appeal
to the purity of British justice, with which the oration opened,
should , like the repetition of a solemn strain of music, recur at its
close, — leaving in the minds of the Judges a composed and con-
centrated feeling of the great public duty they had to perform , in
deciding upon the arraignment of guilt brought before them. The
Court of Directors, it appeared, had ordered an enquiry into the
conduct of the Begums, with a view to the restitution of their pro-
perty, if it should appear lhat the charges against them were un-
founded 5 but to this proceeding Mr. Hastings objected, on the
ground that the Begums themselves had not called for such inter-
ference in their favour, and that it was inconsistent with the "Ma-
jesty of Justice" to condescend to volunteer her services. The pomp-
ous and Jesuitical style in which this singular doctrine ' is expressed ,
in a letter addressed by the Governor-General to Mr. Macpherson ,
1 "If nothing ( says Mr. Mill ) remained to stain the reputation of Mr. Hastings
but the principles avowed in this singular pleading, his character, amoug the friends
of justice, would be sufficiently determined."
550 MEMOIRS
is thus ingeniously turned to account by the orator, in winding up
his masterly statement to a close : —
"And now before I come to the last magnificent paragraph , let me call
the attention of those who , possibly, think themselves capable of judging
of the dignity and character of justice in this country ; — let me call the at-
tention of those who, arrogantly perhaps presume that they understand
\vhat the features , what the duties of justice are here and in India ; — let
them learn a lesson from this great statesman, this enlarged , this liberal
philosopher : — 'I hope I shall not depart from the simplicity of official
language in saying, that the Majesty of Justice ought to be approached
with solicitation , not descend to provoke or invite it , much less to debase
itself by the suggestion of wrongs and the promise of redress, with the
denunciation of punishment before trial, and even before accusation.'
This is the exhortation which Mr. Hastings makes to his Counsel. This
is the character which he gives of British justice.
" But I will ask Your Lordships, do you approve this representation ?
Do you feel that this is the true image of justice! Is this the character of
British Justice? yVre these her features? Is this her countenance? Is this
her gait or her mien? No, I think even now I hear you calling upon me
to turn from this vile libel, this base caricature, this Indian pagod ,
formed by the hand of guilty and knavish tyranny, to dupe the heart of
ignorance, — to turn from this deformed idol to the true Majesty of Jus-
tice here. Here , indeed, I see a different form, enthroned by the sove-
reign hand of Freedom, — awful without severity — commanding without
pride— vigilant and active without restlessness or suspicion — searching
and inquisitive without meanness or debasement — not arrogantly scorn-
ing to stoop to the voice of afflicted innocence , and in its loveliest attitude
when bending to uplift the suppliant at its feet.
" It is by the majesty , by the form of that Justice, that I do conjure
and implore Your Lordships to give your minds to this great business ;
that I exhort you to look , not so much to words which may be denied or
quibbled away, but to the plain facts,— to weigh and consider the testi-
mony in your own minds : we know the result must be inevitable. Let
the truth appear and our cause is gained. It is this, I conjure Your
Lordships, for your own honour, for the honour of the nation, for the
honour of human nature, now entrusted to your care, — it is this duty
that, the Commons of England, speaking through us, claims at your hands.
" They exhort you to it by every thing that calls sublimely upon the
heart of man , by the Majesty of that Justice which this bold man has
libelled, by the wide fame of your own tribunal, by the sacred pledge
by which you swear in the solemn hour of decision , knowing that that
decision will then bring you the highest reward that ever blessed the
heart of man , the consciousness of having done the greatest act of mercy
for the world , that the earth has ever yet received from any hand but
Heaven. — My Lords, I have done."
Though I 'have selected some of the most remarkable passages of
this Speech ', it would be unfair to judge of it even from these spe-
' I had selected many more, bnt most confess that they appeared to me, when
OF R. B. SHERIDAN. 251
cimens. A Report , verbatim , of any effective speech must always
appear diffuse and ungraceful in the perusal. The very repetitions ,
the redundancy, the accumulation of epithets , which gave force
and momentum in the career of delivery, but weaken and encumber
the march of the style, when read. There is, indeed, the same sort of
difference between a faithful short-hand Report , and those abridged
and polished records* which Burke has left us of his speeches , as
(here is between a cast taken directly from the face , (where every
line is accurately preserved , but all the blemishes and excrescences
are in rigid preservation also , ) and a model , over which the cor-
recting hand has passed , and all that was minute or superfluous is
generalised and softened away.
Neither was it in such rhetorical passages as abound , perhaps ,
rather lavishly, in this Speech , that the chief strength of Mr. She-
ridan's talent lay. Good sense and wit were the great weapons of
his oratory — shrewdness in detecting the weak points of an adver-
sary, and infinite powers of raillery in exposing it. These were fa-
culties which he possessed in a greater degree than any of his con-
temporaries •, and so well did he himself know the strong hold of
his powers , that it was but rarely, after this display in Westminster
Hall , that he was tempted to leave it for the higher flights of ora-
tory, or to wander after Sense into that region of metaphor, where
loo often , like Angelica in the enchanted palace of Atlante , she is
sought for in vain '. His attempts, indeed, at the florid orfigura-
live style , whether in his speeches or his writings , were seldom
very successful. That luxuriance of fancy, which in Burke was na-
tural and indigenous , was in him rather a forced and exotic growth.
It is a remarkable proof of this difference between them , that while ,
in the memorandums of speeches left behind by Burke , we find ,
that the points of argument and business were those which he pre-
pared , trusting to the ever ready wardrobe of his fancy for their
in print, so little worthy of the reputation of the Speech, that I thought, it
would be, on the whole i more prudent to omit them. Even of the passages here
cited, I speak rather from my imagination of what they mast have been, than
from my actual feeling of what they are. The character given of such Reports by
Lord Loughborongh , is, no doubt, but too just. On a motion made by Lord
Stanhope, (April 29, 1794,) that the short-hand writers employed on Hastings's
trial, should be summoned to the bar of the House, to read their minntes, Lord
Longhborough , in the coarse of his observations on the motion said, " God forbid
that ever their Lordships should call on the short-hand writers to publish their
notes : — for, of all people , short -hand writers were ever the farthest from correct-
ness, and there were no man's words they ever heard that they again returned.
They were in general ignorant, as acting mechanically^ and by not considering
'he antecedent, and catching the sound, and not the sense, they perverted the
sense of the speaker, and made him appear as ignorant as themselves."
1 Curran used to say laughingly, " When I can't talk sense , I talk metaphor."
252 MEMOIRS
adornment, — in Mr. Sheridan's notes it is chiefly the decorative
passages , that are worked up beforehand to their full polish ; while
on the resources of his good sense, ingenuity, and temper, he
seems to have relied for the management of his reasonings and facts.
Hence naturally it arises that the images of Burke, being called up
on the instant , like spirits , to perform the bidding of his argument ,
minister to it throughout , with an almost co-ordinate agency ; while
the figurative fancies of Sheridan , already prepared for the occa-
sion , and brought forth to adorn , not assist , the business of the
discourse , resemble rather those sprites which the magicians used
to keep inclosed in phials , to be produced for a momentary en-
chantment , and then shut up again.
In truth , the similes and illustrations of Burke form such an in-
timate , and often essential , part of his reasoning, that if the whole
strength of the Samson does not lie in those luxuriant locks , it
would ill least be considerably diminished by their loss. Whereas ,
in the Speech of Mr. Sheridan , which we have just been consider-
ing , there is hardly one of the rhetorical ornaments that might not
be detached , without , in any great degree , injuring the force of
the general statement. Another consequence of this difference be-
tween them is observable in their respective modes of transition ,
from what may be called the business of a speech to its more ge-
neralised and rhetorical parts. When Sheridan rises , his elevation
is not sufficiently prepared 5 he starts abruptly and at once from the
level of his statement , and sinks down into it again with the same
suddenness. But Burke , whose imagination never allows even bu-
siness to subside into mere prose, sustains a pitch throughout which
accustoms the mind to wonder, and , while it prepares us to accom-
pany him in his boldest flights , makes us , even when he walks , still
feel that he has wings : —
" Meme quand I'oiseau marche , on sent qu'il a des ailes."
The sincerity of the praises bestowed by Burke on the Speech of
his brother 3Ianager has sometimes been questioned , but upon no
sufficient grounds. His zeal for the success of the Impeachment ,
no doubt , had a considerable share in the enthusiasm with which
this great effort in its favour filled him. It may be granted, too ,
thai , in admiring the apostrophes that variegate this speech , he
was , in some degree , enamoured of a reflection of himself;
" Cuiictaque miratur, quibus est mirabilis ipse."
He sees reflected there , in faiuter light ,
All that combines to make himself so bright.
But whatever mixture of other motives there may have been in
OF R. B SHERIDAN. 553
Ihc feeling, it is certain that his admiration of the Speech was real
and unbounded. He is said to have exclaimed to Mr. Fox , during
the delivery of some passages of it, "There,— that is the true
style ;— something between poetry and prose , and better than
either.11 The severer taste of Mr. Fox dissented , as might be ex-
I )oi led, from this remark. He replied, that " he thought such a
mixture was for the advantage of neither — as producing poetic
prose, or, still worse, prosaic poetry." It was, indeed, the opi-
nion of Mr. Fox , that the impression made upon Burke by these
somewhat too theatrical tirades is observable in the change that
subsequently look place in his own style of writing; and. that the
florid and less chastened taste , which some persons discover in his
later productions , may all be traced to the example of this speech.
However this may be , or whether there is really much difference ,
as to taste , between the youthful and sparkling vision of the Queen
of France in 1792 , and the interview between the Angel and Lord
Bathurst in 1775 , it is surely a most unjust disparagement of the
eloquence of Burke , to apply to it , at any time of his life , the
epithet "flowery,11 — a designation only applicable to that ordi-
nary ambition of style, whose chief display, by necessity, consists
of ornament without thought, and pomp without substance. A suc-
cession of bright images, clothed in simple , transparent language,
— even when, as in Burke, they "crowd upon the aching sense1'
loo dazzlingly,— '-should never be confounded with that mere verbal
opulence of style , which mistakes the glare of words for the glitter
of ideas , and , like the Helen of the sculptor Lysippus , makes
finery supply the place of beauty. The figurative definition of elo-
quence in the Book of Proverbs — " Apples of gold in a net-work of
silver 51 — is peculiarly applicable to that enshrinement of rich , solid
thoughts in clear and shining language , which is the triumph of
the imaginative class of writers and orators , - while , perhaps , the
network , without the gold inclosed , is a type equally significant
of what is called " flowery " eloquence.
It is also , I think , a mistake , however flattering to my country,
to call the School of Oratory, to which Burke belongs, Irish. That
Irishmen are naturally more gifted with those stores of fancy, from
which the illumination of this high order of the art must be sup-
plied , the names of Burke , Grallan , Sheridan , Curran , Canning ,
andPlunkett, abundantly testify. Yetliad Lord Chatham, before
any of these great speakers were heard , led the way, in the same
animated and figured strain of oratory ' ; while another Englishman,
' His few noble sentences on the privilege of.the poor man's cottage are nni-
\crsahy known. There is also bis f.mciful allusion to the conflnence of the Saone
am! tl.c Rhone, the traditional reports of which vary, both as to the exact term*
254 MEMOIRS
Lord Bacon , by making Fancy the handmaid of Philosophy, had
long since set an example of that union of the imaginative and the
solid , which , both in writing and in speaking , forms the charac-
teristic distinction of this school.
The Speech of Mr. Sheridan in Westminster Hall , though so
much inferior, in the opinion of Mr. Fox and others , to that which
he had delivered on the same subject in the House of Commons,
seems to have produced , at the time , even a more lively and ge-
neral sensation ; — possibly from the nature and numerousness of the
assembly before which it was spoken , and which counted among
its multitude a number of that sex. whose lips are in general found
to be the most rapid conductors of fame. But there was one of this
sex, more immediately interested in his glory, who seems to have
felt it, as women alone can feel. " I have delayed writing ," says
Mrs. Sheridan , in a letter to her sister-in-law, dated four days after
the termination of the Speech , " till I could gratify myself and you
by sending you the news of our dear Dick's triumph ! — of our
triumph I may call it ; for, surely, no one , in the slightest degree
connected with him , but must feel proud and happy. It is impos-
sible , my dear woman , to convey to you the delight, the astonish-
ment, the adoration, he has excited in the breasts of every class of
people ! Every party-prejudice has been overcome by a display of
genius, eloquence, and goodness, which no one, with any thing
like a heart about them , could have listened to , without being (he
wiser and the better for the rest of Iheir lives. What must my feel-
ings be? — you only can imagine. To tell you the truth, it is with
some difficulty that I can ' let down my mind ,' as Mr. Burke said
afterwards, to talk or think on any other subject. But pleasure, loo
exquisite , becomes pain , and I am at this moment suffering for
the delightful anxieties of last week."
It is a most happy combination when the wife of a man of genius
unites intellect enough to appreciate the talents of her husband ,
with the quick , feminine sensibility that can thus passionately feel
his success. Pliny tells us , that his Calpurnia , whenever he pleaded
an important cause , had messengers ready to report to her every
murmur of applause that he received ; and the poet Stalius , in al-
luding to his own victories at the Albanian Games , mentions the
in which it was expressed, and the persons to whom he applied it. Even Lord
Orford does not seem to have ascertained the latter point. To these may be added
the following specimen: — 'I don't inquire from what quarter the wind coineth.
Lut whither it goeth; and , if any measure that comes from the Right Hoiiourahle
Gentleman tends to the public good, ray bark is ready." Of a different kind is
/ that grand passage, — "America, they tell me, has resisted— I rejoice to hear it,"
— which Mr. Grattau used to pronounce Gner than any thing in Demosthenes.
OF R. B. SHERIDAN. 255
CL breathless kisses with which his wife, Claudia, used 16 cover
the triumphal garlands' he brought home. Mrs. Sheridan may well
lake her place beside these Roman wives ; — and she had another
resemblance to one of them , which was no less womanly and attrac-
tive. Not only did Calpurnia sympathise with the glory of her hus-
band abroad , but she could also , like Mrs. Sheridan , add a charm
to his talents at home , by selling his verses to music and singing
them to her harp , — " with no instructor,'1 adds Pliny, " but Love,
who is , after all , the best master."
This loiter of Mrs. Sheridan thus proceeds : —
" You were perhaps alarmed by the accounts of S.'s illness in the pa-
pers -. but I have the pleasure to assure you he is now perfectly well, and
1 hope bv next week we shall be quietly settled in the country, and suf-
fered to repose, in every sense of the word; for iudeed we have , both of
us , been in a constant state of agitation , of one kind or another, for some
time back.
" T am very glad to hear your father continues so well. Surely he must
feel happy and proud of such a son. I take it for granted you see the news-
papers : I assure you the accounts in them are not exaggerated, and only
echo the exclamation of admiration that is in every body's mouth. I make
no excuse for dwelling on this subject : — I know you will not find it te-
dious. God bless you : — I am an invalid at present, and not able to write
long letters "
The agitation and want of repose , which Mrs. Sheridan here com-
plains of, arose not only from the anxiety which she so deeply felt,
for the success of this great public effort of her husband , but from
the share which she herself had taken, in the labour and attention
necessary to prepare him for it. The mind of Sheridan being , from
the circumstances of his education and life , but scantily informed
upon all subjects for which reading is necessary, required, of
course , considerable training and feeding , before it could venture
to grapple with any new or important task. He has been known to
say frankly to his political friends, when invited to take part in some
question that depended upon authorities, " You know I'm an igno-
ramus — but here I am — instruct me^ and I'll do my best." It is said,
that the stock of numerical lore , upon which he ventured to set up
as the Aristarchus of Mr. Pitt's financial plans, was the result of three
weeks' hard study of arithmetic, to which he doomed himself, in the
early part of his Parliamentary career, on the chance of being ap-
pointed, some lime or other, Chancellor of the Exchequer. For
financial display it must be owned lhat this was rather a crude pre-
paration. But there arc other subjects of oratory, on which the out-
pourings of information , newly acquired , may have a freshness and
vivacity which it would be vain to expect, in the communication of
knowledge lhat has lain long in the mind , and lost in circumstantial
?5fi MEMOIRS
spirit what it has gained in general mellowness. They, indeed , who
have been regularly disciplined in learning , may be not only too fa-
miliar with what they know to communicate it with much liveliness
to others , but too apt also to rely upon the resources of the memory,
and upon those cold outlines which it retains of knowledge whose
details are faded. The natural consequence of all this is that persons ,
the best furnished with general information , are often the most
vague and unimpressive on particular subjects ; while , on the con-
trary, an uninstructed man of genius, like Sheridan, who approaches
a topic of importance for the first lime , has not only the stimulus of
ambition and curiosity to aid him in mastering its details , but the
novelty of first impressions to brighten his general "views of it — and,
with a fancy thus freshly excited , himself, is most sure to touch and
rouse the imaginations of others.
This was particularly the situation of Mr. Sheridan with respect
to the history of Indian affairs ; and there remain among his papers
numerous proofs of the labour which his preparation for this arduous
task cost not only himself but Mrs. Sheridan. Among others , there
is a large pamphlet of Mr. Hastings , consisting of more than two
hundred pages , copied out neatly in her writing , with some assist-
ance from another female hand. The industry, indeed , of all around
him was put in requisition for this great occasion — some , busy with
the pen and scissors , making extracts — some, pasting and stitching
his scattered memorandums in their places. So that there was hardly
a single member of the family that could not boast of having contri-
buted his share , to the mechanical construction of this speech. The
pride of its success was . of course , equally participated ; and Ed-
wards, a favourite servant of Mr. Sheridan, who lived with him
many years , was long celebrated for his professed imitation of the
manner in which his master delivered (what seems to have struck
Edwards as the finest part of the speech) his closing words, "My
Lords , I have done ! "
The Impeachment of Warren Hastings is one of those pageants in
the drama of public life , which show how fleeting are the labours
and triumphs of politicians — "what shadows they are, and what
shadows they pursue." When we consider the importance which the
great actors in that scene attached to it, — the grandeur with which
their eloquence invested the cause , as one in which the liberties and
rights of the whole human race were interested ,— and then think
how all that splendid array of Law and of talent has dwindled away,
in the view of most persons at present, into an unworthy and harass-
ing persecution of a meritorious and successful statesman ; — how
those passionate appeals to justice, those vehement denunciations of
crime, which made the halls of Westminster and St. Stephen's ring
OF R. B. SHERIDAN. ?57
with their echoes, are now coldly judged, through the medium oT
disfiguring Reports, and regarded, at the best , but as rhetorical ef-
fusions , indebted to temper for their warmth , and to fancy for their
details ; — while so little was the reputation of the delinquent himself
even scorched by the bolts of eloquence thus launched at him, that a
subsequent House of Commons thought themselves honoured by his
presence, and welcomed him with such cheers ' as should reward
only the friends and benefactors of freedom; — when we reflect on
this thankless result of so much labour and talent , it seems wonder-
ful that there should still be found high and gifted spirits , to waste
themselves away in such temporary struggles , and , like that spend-
thrift of genius , Sheridan , to discount their immortality, for the
payment of fame in h?ind which these triumphs of the day secure to
(hem.
For this direction , however, which the current of opinion has
taken , with regard to Mr. Hastings and his eloquent accusers , there
are many very obvious reasons to be assigned. Success , as I have
already remarked , was the dazzling talisman , which he waved in
the eyes of his adversaries from the first , and which his friends have
made use of to throw a splendour over his tyranny and injustice ever
since 7. Too often , in the moral logic of this world, it matters but
lidle what the premises of conduct may be , so the conclusion turns
out showy and prosperous. There is also , it must be owned , among
the English ( as perhaps , among all frqe people ) , a strong taste for
the arbitrary, when they themselves are not to be the victims of it,
which invariably secures to such accomplished despotisms as that of
Lord Stratford in Ireland, and Hastings in India, even a larger
share of their admiration than they are , themselves , always willing
to allow.
The rhetorical exaggerations , in which the Managers of the pro-
secution indulged , — Mr. Sheridan , from imagination , luxuriating
in its own display, and Burke from the same cause , added to his
overpowering autocracy of temper — were but too much calculated
lo throw suspicion on the cause in which they were employed , and
1 When called as a witness before the Honse, in 1813, on the subject of the
renewal of the East India Company's Charter.
2 In the important article of Finance, however, for which he made so many
sacrifices of hnmauiiy, even the justification of success, was wanting to his measures.
The following is the account given by the Select Committee of the House of Com-
mons in 18 10, of the state in which India was left by his administration: — "The
revenues had been absoibed; the pay and allowances of both the civil and inili-
tary branches of the service were greatly in anear; the credit of the Company
wa.< extremely depressed; and, added to all, the whole system had fallen into
Mi.h irregularity and confusion, that the real state of affairs could not be tucff-
tained till the conclnsion of the year 1785-6."— Third Report.
n
248 MEMOIRS
to produce a re-aclion in favour of the person whom they were
meant to overwhelm. " Rogo vos , Judiccs /' — Mr. Hastings
might well have said , — " si iste disertus est , idea me damnari
oportet l ? "
There are also , without doubt , considerable allowances to be
made , for the difficult situations in which Mr. Hastings was placed,
and those impulses to wrong which acted upon him from all sides
— allowances which will have more or less weight with the judg-
ment, according as it may be more or less fastidiously disposed, in
letting excuses for rapine and oppression pass muster. The incessant
and urgent demands of the Directors upon him for money may pal-
liate . perhaps , the violence of those methods which he took to
procure it for them ; and the obstruction to his policy which would
have arisen from a strict observance of Treaties , may be admitted,
by the same gentle casuistry, as an apology for his frequent infrac-
tions of them.
Another consideration to be taken into account , in our estimate
of the character of Mr. Hastings as a ruler, is that strong light of
publicity, which the practice in India of carrying on the business
of government by written documents threw on all the machinery of
his measures , deliberative as \\ell as executive. These Minutes , in-
deed , form a record of fluctuation and inconsistency — not only on
the part of the Governor-General , but of all the members of the go-
vernment— a sort of weather-cock diary of opinions and principles,
shifting with the interests or convenience of the moment % which
entirely takes away our respect even for success , when issuing out
of such a chaos of self-contradiction and shuffling. It cannot be de-
nied, however, that such a system of exposure — submitted, as it
was in this case, to still further scrutiny, under the bold , denuding
hands of a Burke and a Sheridan — was a test to which the councils
of few rulers could with impunity be brought. Where , indeed , is
' Seneca, Controvers. lib. iii. c. 19.
J Instances of this, on the part of Mr. Hastings, are numberless. In remarking
upon his corrupt transfer of the management of the Nabob's household in 1778 ,
the Directors say, "It is with equal surprise and concern that we observe this
request introduced , and the Nabob's ostensible rights so solemnly asserted at this
period by our Governor-General; because, on a late occasion, lo serve a ver\
different purpose, he has not scrupled to declare it as visible as the light of the
sun, that the Nabob is a mere pageant, and without even the shadow of autho-
rity." On another transaction in 1781, Mr. Mill remarks; — "It is a curious moral
spectacle to compare'the minutes and letters of the Governor-General, when , at
the beginning of the" year 1780, maintaining the propriety of condemning the
Nabob to sustain the -whole of the burden imposed npon him, and his minutes
and letters maintaining the propriely of relieving him from those burthens in
1781. The arguments and facts adduced on the one occasion , as well as the con-
clusion , are a flat contradiction to those exhibited on the other."
OF R. B. SHERIDAN. 559
the statesman that could bear to have his obliquities thus chronicled?
or where is the Cabinet that would not shrink from such an inroad of
light into its recesses?
The undefined nature , too , of that power which the Company
exercised in India , and the uncertain state of Law vibrating between
the English and Hindoo codes , left such tempting openings for in-
justice as it was hardly possible to resist. With no public opinion to
warn off authority from encroachment , and with the precedents set
up by former rulers , all pointing the wrong way , it would have
been difficult , perhaps , for even more moderate men than Hast-
ings , not occasionally to break bounds and go continually astray.
To all these considerations in his favour is to be added the appa-
rently triumphant fact , that his government was popular among
the natives of India, and that his name is still remembered by them
with gratitude and respect.
Allowing Mr. Hastings , however, the full advantage of these and
other strong pleas in his defence, it is yet impossible, for any real
lover of justice and humanity, to read the plainest and least exag-
gerated history of his government ', without feeling deep indigna-
tion excited at almost every page of it. His predecessors had , it is
true , been guilty of wrongs as glaring — the treachery of Lord Clive
to Omichund in 1757, and the abandonment of Ramnarain to Meer
Causim under the administration of Mr. Vansittart, are stains upon
the British character which no talents or glory can do away. There
are precedents , indeed , to be found , through the annals of our In-
dian empire , for the formation of the most perfect code of tyranny,
in every department, legislative , judicial , and executive, that ever
entered into the dreams of intoxicated power. But , while the prac-
tice of Mr. Hastings was , at least , as tyrannical as that of his pre-
decessors , the principles upon which he founded that practice were
still more odious and unpardonable. In his manner, indeed , of de-
fending himself he is his own worst accuser — as there is no outrage
of power, no violation of faith, that might not be justified by the
versatile and ambidextrous doctrines , the lessons of deceit and rules
1 Nothing can be more partial and misleading than the colouring given to these
transactions by Mr. Nioholls and other apologists of Hastings. For the view which
I have myself taken of the whole case I am chiefly indebted to the able History
of British India }>y Mr. Mill — whose indastrions research and clear analytical state-
ments make him the most valuable authority that can be consulted on thesnbject.
The mood of mind in which Mr. Nicholls listened to the proceedings of the
!MI[,, ;u linn.-iit may be judged from the following declaration, which he has had
iht; courage to promulgate to the public : — " On this Charge (the Begum Charge)
Mi Sheridan made a speech which both side* of the House professed greatly to
.idmire— for Mr. Pitt now opeuly approved of the Impeachment. I will acknow-
ledge , (hat I did not ^admire this speech of Mr. Sheridan.1"
SCO MEMOIRS
of rapine, which he so ably illustrated by his measures , and has so
shamelessly recorded with his pen.
Nothing but an early and deep initiation in the corrupting school
of Indian politics could have produced the facility with which , as
occasion required, he could belie his own recorded assertions, turn
hostilely round upon his own expressed opinions , disclaim the
proxies which he himself had delegated, and , in short, get rid of
all the inconveniences of personal identity, by never acknowledging
himself to be bound by any engagement or opinion which himself
had formed. To select the worst features of his Administration is no
very easy task ; but the calculating cruelty with which he abetted
the extermination of the Rohillas — his unjust and precipitate exe-
cution of Nuncomar, who had stood forth as his accuser, and , there-
fore , became his victim , — his violent aggression upon the Rajah
of Benares , and that combination of public and private rapacity,
which is exhibited in the details of his conduct to the royal family
of Oude ; — these are acts, proved by the testimony of himself and
his accomplices , from the disgrace of which no formal acquittal
upon points of law can absolve him , and whose guilt the allowances
of charily may extenuate, but never can remove. That the perpe-
trator of such deeds should have been popular among the natives of
India only proves how low was the standard of justice, to which
the entire tenor of our policy had accustomed them •, — but that a
ruler of this character should be held up to admiration in England,
is one of those anomalies with which England, more than any other
nation , abounds , and only inclines us to wonder that the true wor-
ship of Liberty should so long have continued to flourish in a conn--
fry, where such heresies to her sacred cause are found.
J have dwelt so long upon the circumstances and nature of this
Trial , not only on account of the conspicuous place which it occu-
pies in Hie fore-ground of Mr. Sheridan's life, but because of that
general interest which an observer of our Institutions must lake in
it, from the clearness with which it brought into view some of their
best and worst features. While , on one side, we perceive the weight
of the popular scale , in the lead taken , upon an occasion of such
solemnity and importance, by two persons brought forward from
(he middle ranks of society into the very van of political distinction
and influence , on the other hand , in the sympathy and favour ex-
tended by the Court to the practical assertor of despotic principles ,
we trace the prevalence of that feeling which , since the commence-
ment of the late King's reign, has made the Throne the rallying point
of all that arc unfriendly to the cause of freedom. Again , in consi-
dering the conduct of the Crown Lawyers during the Trial— the-
narrow and irrational rules of evidence which they sought to esla-
OF R B. SHERIDAN. 2CI
blish— the unconstitutional control assumed by the Judges , over the
decisions of Ihe Iribunal before which the cause was tried , and the
refusal to communicate the reasons upon which those decisions were
founded — above all , loo , the legal opinions expressed on the great
question relative to the abatement of an Impeachment by Dissolu-
tion , in which almost the whole body of lawyers ' took the wrong ,
the pedantic , and the unstatesman-like side of the question ; —
while in all these indications of the spirit of that profession, and of
its propensity to lie down the giant, Truth > with its small Ihreads
of technicality and precedent , we perceive the danger to be appre-
hended from the interference of such a spirit in politics ; on the
other side , arrayed against these petty taclics of the Forum , we see-
the broad banner of Constitutional Law, upheld alike by a Fox and
a Pitt , a Sheridan and a Dundas , and find truth and good sense
taking refuge from the equivocalions of lawyers, in such consoling
documents as the Report upon the Abuses of the Trial by Burke —
a document which , if ever a reform of the English law should be
attempted, \sill sland as a greal guiding light to the adventurers
in that heroic entreprise.
It has been frequently asserted, that on the evening of Mr. She-
ridan's grand display in the House of Commons , The School for
Scandal and The Duenna were acted at Covent-Garden and Drury-
Lane , and thus three greal audiences were at the, same moment
amused, agitated, and, as it were, wielded by the intellect of one
man. As this triple triumph of talent— this manifestation of the power
of Genius to multiply itself, like an Indian god — was, in the in-
stance of Sheridan , not only possible , but within the scope of a very
easy arrangement , it is to be lamented that no stich coincidence did
actually lake place , and th it Ihe ability to have achieved the miracle
is all that can be with Iruth attributed to him. From a careful exa-
mination of the play-bills of the different theatres during this period ,
I have ascertained , ,with regret , that neither on the evening of Ihe
speech in Ihe House of Commons , nor on any of the days of the
oration in Westminster Hall , was there either at Covent-Garden ,
Drury-Lane, or Haymarket theatres, any piece whatever of Mr. She-
ridan's acted.
The following passages of a letter from Miss Sheridan to her sister
in Ireland , written while on a visit with her brother in London ,
1 Among the rest , Lord lirskint, who allowed his profession, on this occasion,
to stand in the light of his judgment. "As to a Nisi-prins lawyer (said Burke)
prving an opinion on the duration of an Impeachment — as well might a rabbit,
that breeds six times a year, pretend to know any thing of the gestation of an
-elephant!"
2<J2 MEMOIRS
though referring lo a laler period of the Trial . may without impro-
priety be inserted here . —
"Just as I received 3 our letter yesterday , I was setting out for the trial
with Mrs. Crewe and Mrs. Dixon. I was fortunate in my day, as I heard
all the principal speakers — Mr. Burke I admired the least— Mr. Fox very
much indeed. The subject, in itself, was not particularly interesting, as
the debate turned merely on a point of law, but the earnestness of his
manner and the amazing precision with which he conveys his ideas is
truly delightful. And last, not least, I heard my brother ! I cannot express
to you the sensation of pleasure and pride that filled my heart at the mo-
ment he rose. Had I never seen him or heard his name before, I should
have conceived him the firstman among them at once. There is a dignity
and grace in his countenance and deportment, very striking — at the same
time that one cannottrace the smallest degree of conscious superiority in
his manner. His voice, too, appeared to me extremely fine. The speech
itself was not much calculated to display the talents of an orator, as of
course it related only to dry matter. You may suppose 1 am not so lavish
of praises before indifferent persons , but I am sure you will acquit me of
partiality in what I have said. "U hen they left the Hall we walked about
some time , and were joined by several of the managers — among the rest
bv Mr. Burke, whom we set down at his own house. They seem now to
have better hopes of the business than they have had for some time; as
the point urged with so much force and apparent success relates to very
material evidence which the Lords have refused to hear, but which,
once produced, must prove strongly against Mr. Hastings ; and from what
passed yesterday they think their Lordships must yield. — We sat in the
King's box, " etc,
CHAPTER XII.
Death of Mr. Sheridan's Father. — Verses by Mrs. Sheridan on the death
of her sister, Mrs. Tickell.
IJN the summer of this year the father of Mr. Sheridan died. He
had been recommended lo fry the air of Lisbon for his health , and
had left Dublin for that purpose, accompanied by his younger daugh-
ter. But the rapid increase of his malady prevented him from pro-
ceeding farther than Margate , where he died about the beginning
of August , attended in his last moments by his son Richard.
We have seen with what harshness , to use no stronger term ,
Mr. Sheridan was for many years treated by his father, and how
persevering and affectionate were the efforts, in spite of many
capricious repulses , that he made to be restored to forgiveness
and favour. In his happiest moments , both of love and fame , the
Ihought of being excluded from the paternal roof came across him
with a chill that seemed to sadden all his triumph ' . When it is
1 See the letter written by him immediately after Lis marriage, page 50 , and the
auecdotein page 78
OF R. B. SHERIDAN. 26*
considered, loo , thai the father, to whom he felt thus amiably, had
never distinguished him by any particular kindness , but , on the
contrary, had always shown a marked preference for the dispo-
sition and abilities of his brother Charles — it is impossible not to
acknowledge , in such true filial affection, a proof that talent was
not the only ornament of Sheridan , and that , however unfa-
vorably to moral culture was the life that he led , Nature in form-
ing his mind, had implanted there virtue as well as genius.
Of the tender attention which he paid to his father on his death-
bed , I am enabled to lay before the reader no less a testimony
than the letters written at the time by Miss Sheridan, who as I
have already said , accompanied the old gentleman from Ireland ,
and now shared with her brother the, task of comforting his last
moments. And here it is difficult even for contempt to keep dawn
the indignation, that one cannot but feel at those slanderers,
under the name of biographers , who , calling in malice to the
aid of their ignorance , have not scrupled to assert that the father
of Sheridan died unattended by any of his nearest relatives ! —
Such are ever the marks that Dulness leaves behind, in its Gothic
irruptions into the sanctuary of departed Genius — defacing wl\at it
cannot understand, polluting what it has not the soul to reverence,
and taking revenge for its own darkness by the wanton profanation
of all that is sacred in the eyes of others.
Immediately on the death of their falher, Sheridan removed his
sister to Deepden — a seat of the Duke of Norfolk in Surrey, which
His Grace had lately lent him — and then returned, himself, to
Margate , to pay the last tribute to his father's remains. The lellers
of Miss Sheridan are addressed lo her elder sister in Ireland , and
the first , which I shall give entire , was written a day or two after
her arrival at Deepden.
" MY DEAR LOVE , Dibden , August 18.
*' Though you have ever been uppermost in my thoughts, yet it has
not been in my power to write since the few lines I sent from Margate. 1
hope this will find yon , in some degree , recovered from the shock you
must have experienced from the late melancholy event. I trust to your
own piety and the tenderness of your worthy husband, for procuring you
such a degree of calmness of mind as may secure your health from injury.
In the midst of what I have suffered I have been thankful that you- did
not share a scene of distress which yon could not have relieved. I have
supported myself, but I am sure, had we been together, we should have
nHfered more.
" With regard to my brother's kindness, I can scarcely express to you
how great it has been. He saw my father while he was still sensible, and
never quitted him till the awful moment was past.— I will not now dwell
26i MEMOIRS
on particulars. My mind is not sufficiently recovered to enter on the sub-
ject, and you could only be distressed by it. He returns soon to Margate
to pay tbe last duties in the manner desired by my father. His feelings
have been severely tried, and earnestly I pray he may not suffer from
that cause, or from the fatigue he has endured. His tenderness to me I
never can forget. I had so little claim on him, that I still feel a degree of
surprise mixed with my gratitude. Mrs. Sheridan's reception of me was
truly affectionate. They leave me to myself now as much as I please , as I
had gone through so much fatigue of body and mind that I require some
rest. 1 have not, as you may suppose, looked much beyond the present
hour , but I begin to be more composed. I could now enjoy your society,
and I wish for it hourly. I should think I may hope to see you sooner in
England than you had intended ; but you will write to me very soon, and
let me know every thing that concerns you. I know not whether you will
feel like me a melancholy pleasure in the reflection that my father re-
ceived the last kind offices from my brother Richard ' , whose conduct
on tins occasion must convince every one of the goodness of his heart and
tbe truth of his filial affection. One more reflection of consolation is, that
nothing was omitted that could have prolonged his life or eased his latter
hours. God bless and preserve you , my dear love. I shall soon write more
to you, but shall for a short time suspend my journal, as still too many
painful thoughts will crowd upon me to suffer me to regain such a frame
of mind as I should wish when I write to you.
"Ever affectionately your
" E. SHERIDAN."
In another letter, dated a few days after, she gives an account oi
the domestic life of Mrs. Sheridan , which , like every thing that is
related of that most interesting woman , excites a feeling towards her
memory little short of love.
" MY DEAF, LOVE, Dibdcn, Friday, 22.
" I shall endeavour to resume my journal , though my anxiety to heai
from vou occupies my mind in a way that unfits me for writing. I have
been here almost a week in perfect quiet. While there was company in the
house, I stayed in my room, and since my brother's leaving us to go to
Margate, I have sat at times with Mrs. Sheridan, who is kind and con-
siderate ; so that 1 have entire liberty. Her poor sister's * children are all
with her. The girl gives her constant employment, and seems to profit
by being under so good an instructor. Their father was here for some
days , but 1 did not see him. Last night Mrs. S. showed me a picture oi
1 In a letter, from which I have given an extract ill the early part of this work,
written by the elder sister of Sheridau a short time after his death, in referring to
the differences that existed between him and his father, she says—" and yet it was
that son , and not the object of his partial fondness, who at last closed his eyes."
It generally happens that the injustice of such partialities is revenged by the ingra-
titude of those who are the objects of them; and the present instance, as there is
J)ut too much reason to believe, was Hot altogether an exception to the lemaik
OF R. B. SHERIDAN. 265
Mrs. Tickell , which she wears round her neck. The thing was misre-
presented to you :— it was not done after her death , but a short time be-
fore it. Thesketch was taken while she slept, by a painter atBristol. This
Mrs. Sheridan got copied by Cosway, who has softened down the traces
of illness in such a way that the picture conveys no gloomy idea. It re-
presents her in a sweet sleep, which must have been soothing to he/
friend, after seeing her for a length of time in a state of constant suffering.
"My brother left us Wednesday morning, and we do not expect him
to return for some days. He meant only to stay at Margate long enough
to attend the last melancholy office, which it was my poor father's ex-
press desire should be performed hi whatever parish he died.
" Sunday.
" Dick is still in town, and we do not expect him for some time.
Mrs. Sheridan seems now quite reconciled to these little absences, which
she knows are unavoidable. I never saw any one so constant in employing
every moment of her time, and to that I attribute, in a great measure,
the recovery of her health and spirits. The education of her niece , her
music, books , and work, occupy every minute of the day. After dinner,
the children , who call her " Mamma-aunt , " spend some time with us ,
and her manner to them is truly delightful. The girl, you know, is the
eldest. Thej eldest boy is about five years old, very like his father, but
extremely gentle in his manners. The youngest is past three. The whole
set then retire to the music-room. As yet I cannot enjoy their parties; —
a song from Mrs. Sheridan affected me last night in a most painful man-
ner. 1 shall not try the experiment soon again. Mrs. S. blamed herself for
putting me to the1 trial , and , after tea , got a book , which she read to us
till supper. This , I find , is the general way of passing the evening.
" They are now at their music , and I have retired to add a few lines.
This day has been more gloomy than we have been for some days past ;
— it is the first day of ouy getting into mourning. All the servants in deep
mourning made a melancholy appearance, and I found it very difficult
to sit out the dinner. But, as I have dined below since there has been
only Mrs. Sheridan and Miss Linley here , I would not suffer a circum-
stance, to which I must accustom myself, to break in on their comfort.1'
These children , to whom Mrs. Sheridan thus wholly devoted
herself, and continued to do so for the remainder of her life , had
lost their mother, Mrs. Tickell , in the year 1787, by the same
complaint that afterwards proved fatal to their aunt. The passionate
attachment of Mrs. Sheridan to this sister, arid the deep grief with
which she mourned her loss , are expressed in a poem of her own
so louchingly, thai , to those who love the language of real feeling ,
I need not apologise for their introduction here. Poetry, in general ,
is but a cold interpreter of sorrow ; and the more it displays its
skill , as an art , the less is it likely to do justice to nature. In writ-
ing these verses , however, the workmanship was forgotten in the
566 MEMOIRS
subject 5 and the crilic , to feel them as he ought , should forget his
own craft in reading them.
" Written in the Spring of the Year 1788.
" The hours and days pass on; — sweet Spring returns ,
And whispers comfort to the heart that monrns;
But not to mine , whose dear and cherish'd grief
Asks for indulgence , but ne'er hopes relief.
For, ah ! can changing seasons e'er restore
The lov'd companion I must still deplore?
Shall all the wisdom of the world combin'd
Erase thy image , Mary, from my mind ,
Or bid me hope from others to receive
The fond affection thou alone couldst give?
Ah, no, my best belov'd , thou still shall be "** '»«».
My friend , my sister, all the world to me.
" \Vith tender woe sad memory woos back time ,
And paints the scenes when youth was in its prime ;
The craggy hill, where rocks, with wild flow'rs crowu'd ,
Burst from the hazle copse or verdant ground j
Where sportive Nature every form assumes,
Aud , gaily lavish , wastes a thousand blooms ;
Where oft we heard the echoing hills repeat
Our untaught straius and rural ditties sweet,
Till purpling clouds proclaiiu'd the closing day,
While distant streams detain'd the parting ray.
Then , on some mossy stone we'd sit us down ,
And watch the changing sky aud shadows brown ,
That swiftly glided o'er the mead below ,
Or in some fancied form descended slow.
How oft , well pleas'd each other to adoru ,
We stripp'd the blossoms from the fragrant thorn ,
Or caught the violet where , in humble bed ,
Asham'd of its own sweets it hung its head.
But, oh, what rapture Mary's eyes would speak,
Through her dark hair how rosy glow'd her cheek,
If, in her playful search, she saw appear
The first-blown cowslip of the opening year.
Thy gales, oh Spring, then whisper'd life and joy ;
Now mera'ry wakes thy pleasures to destroy,
Aud all thy beauties serve but to renew
Regrets , too keen for reason to subdue.
Ah me ! while tender recollections rise,
The ready tears obscure my sadden'd eyes ,
And, while surrounding objects they conceal ,
Her form belov'd the trembling drops reveal.
" Sometimes the lovely, blooming girl I view,
My youth's companion , friend for ever true,
Wrhose looks , the sweet expressions of a heart
So gaily innocent , so void of art ,
With soft attraction whisper'd blessings drew
From all who stopp'd , her beauteous face to view1.
Then in the dear domestic scene I mourn,
And weep past pleasures never to return !
OF R. B. SHERIDAN 267
There where each gentle virtue lov'd to rest,
In the pure mansion of my Mary's breast.
The days of social happiness are o'er,
The voice of harmony is heard no more j
No more her graceful tenderness shall prove
The wife's fond duty or the parent's love.
Those eyes , which bright'ned with maternal pride ,
As her sweet infants wanton'd by her side ,
'Twas my sad fate to see for ever close
On life, on love , the world, and all its woes;
To watch the slow disease, with liopeless care ,
And veil in painful smiles my heart's despair ;
To see her droop , with restless languor weak ,
While fatal beauty mantled in her cheek,
Like fresh flow'rs , springing from some mouldering clay,
Cherish'd by death , and blooming from, decay.
Yet , tho' oppress'd by ever-varying pain ,
The gentle sufferer scarcely would complain,
Hid every sigh , each trembling doubt leprov'd ,
To spare a pang to those.fond hearts she lov'd,.
And often , in short intervals of ease,
Her kind aud cheerful spirit strove to please;
Whilst we , alas , unable to refuse
The sad delight we were so soon to lose,
Treasuf'd each word, each kind expression claim'd, —
* 'Twas me she look'd at ,' — * it was me she nain'd.'
Thus fondly soothing grief, too great to bear,
With mournful eagerness aud jealous care.
" But soon, alas, from hearts with sorrow worn
Ev'n this last coinfort was for ever torn :
That mind, the seat of wisdom , genius, taste,
The cruel hand of sickness now laid waste;
Subdued with pain , it sliar'd the common lot,
All, all its lovely energies forgot !
The husband, parent, sister, knelt in vain,
One recollecting look alone to gain :
The shades of night her beaming eyes obscur'd ,
And Nature, vanquish'd, no sharp paiu endur'd ;
Calm and serene — till the last trembling breath
Wafted an angel from the bed of death!
" Ob , if the soul, released from mortal cares ,
Views the sad scene, the voice of mourning hears,
Then, dearest saint, didst thou thy heav'u forego,
Lingering on earth in pity to our woe.
'Twas thy kind influence sooth'd our minds to peace.
And bade our vain and selfish murmurs cease ;
'Twas thy soft smile, that gave the worshipp'd clay
Of thy bright essence one celestial ray,
Making e'en death so beautiful , that we,
Gazing on it, forgot our misery.
I I. i-ii — pleasing thought! — ere to the realms of light
Thy frauchis'd spirit took its happy flight ,
With foud regard, perhaps, thou saw'st me bcud
O'er the cold relics of my heart's best friend.
568 MEMOIRS
And heard'st me swear, while her dear hand I prest
And tears of agony bedew'd my breast,
For her lov'd sake to act the mother's part ,
Aud take her darling infants to my heart,
With tenderest care their youthful minds improve ,
And guard her treasure with protecting love.
Once more look down , blest creature, aud behold
These arms the precious innocents enfold;
Assist my erring nature to fulfil t
The sacred trust , and ward off every ill !
And , oh ! let her, who is my dearest care ,
Thy blest regard and heavenly influence share ;
Teach me to form her pure and artless mind ,
Like thine, as true, as innocent , as kind , —
That when some future day my hopes shall bless ,
And every voice her virtue shall confess.
When my fond heart delighted hears her praise,
As with uucouscious loveliness she strays,
' Such, let me say, with tears of joy the while,
' Such was the softness of my Mary's smile ;
' Such was her youth, so blithe, so rosy sweet,
' Aud sucl) lierm'ind , nnpractis'd in deceit ;
' With artless elegance , unstudied grace ,
' Thus did she gain in every heart a place ! '
" Then, while the dear remembrance I behold,
Time shall steal on , nor tell me I am old ,
Till, nature wearied, each fond duty o'er,
I join my Augel Friend — to part no more ! "
To the conduct of Mr. Sheridan , during the last moments of his
father, a further testimony has been kindly communicated to me
by Mr. Jarvis, a medical gentleman of Margate, who attended
Mr. Thomas Sheridan on that occasion , and whose interesting com-
munication I shall here give in his own words : —
" On the loth of August, 1788, I was first called on to visit Mr. She-
ridan, wuo was then fast declining at his lodgings in this place, where
he was in the care of his daughter. On the next day Mr. R. B. Sheridan
arrived here from town , having brought with him Dr. Morris , of Par-
liament Street. I was in the bed-room with Mr. Sheridan when the son
arrived, and witnessed an interview in which the father showed himself
to he strongly impressed by his son's attention , saying , with consider-
able emotion, 'Oh Dick, I give you a great deal of trouble!' and seem-
ing to imply by his manner, that his son had been less to blame than
himself, for any previous want of cordiality between them.
" On my making my last call for the evening, Mr. R. B. Sheridan,
with delicacy, but much earnestness, expressed his fear that the nurse
in attendance on his father, might not be so competent as myself to the
requisite attentions , and his hope that I would consent to remain in the
room for a few of the first hours of the night; as he himself, having
been travelling the preceding night, required some short repose. I com-
plied with his request, and remained at the father's bedside till relieved
I->y the son, about three o'clock in the morning ; — he then insisted on
OF ft. D. SHERIDAN. JG9
taking my place. From this time he never quitted, the house till his
lather's death; on the day after which he wrote me a letter, now before
me , of which the annexed is an exact copy :
" SIR , Friday Morning.
" 1 wished to see you this morning before I went, to thank you for
your attention and trouble. You will be so good to give the account to
Mr. Thompson, who will settle it ; and I must further beg your accept-
;mcc of the inclosed from myself.
"I am, Sir,
" Your obedient Servant,
" R. B. SHERIDAN."
" I have explained to Dr. Morris (who has informed me that you will
recommend a proper person), that it is my desire to have the hearse,
and the manner of coming to town , as respectful as possible."
" The inclosure, referred to in this letter, was a bank-note of,ten
pounds , — a most liberal remuneration. Mr. R. B. Sheridan left Margate,
intending that his father should be buried in London ; but he there
ascertained that it had been his father's expressed wish , that he should
be buried in the parish next to that in which he should happen to die.
He then , consequently, returned to Margate , accompanied by his bro-
ther-in-law, Mr. Tickell, with whom, and Mr. Thompson and myself,
lie followed his father's remains to the burial-place, which was not in
Margate church-yard, but in the north aisle of the church at St. Peter's."
Mr. Jarvis , the writer of the letter from which I have given this
extract , had once , as he informs me , the intention of having a
cenotaph raised , to the memory of Mr. Sheridan's father, in the
church of Margate ' . With this view he applied to Dr. Parr for an
Inscription , and the following is the tribute to his old friend with
which that learned and kind-hearted man supplied him: —
"This monument, A. D. 1824, was, by subscription, erected to the
memory of Thomas Sheridan , Esq., who died in the neighbouring parish
of St. John, August 14, 1788, in the 6gth year of his age, and, accord-
ing to his own request, was there buried. He was grandson to Dr. Tho-
mas Sheridan, the brother of Dr. William, a conscientious non-juror,
who, in 1691 , was deprived of the Bishopric of Kilmore. He was the son
of Dr. Thomas Sheridan , a profound scholar and eminent schoolmaster,
intimately connected with Dean Swift and other illustrious writers in the
reign of Queen Anne. He was husband to the ingenious and amiable
author of Sidney Biddulph , and several dramatic pieces favourably re-
ceived. He was father of the celebrated orator and dramatist, Richard
Urinsley Sheridan. He had been the school-fellow, and, through life,
1 Thongh this idea was relinquished, it appears that a friend of Mr. Jarvis,
••^'ili a zeal for the memory of talent highly honourable to him , has recently
< atised a monument to Mr. Thomas Sheridan to he raised in the church of St.
Peter,
270 MEMOIRS
was the companion, of the amiable Archbishop Markham. He was the
friend of the learned Dr. Sumner, master of Harrow School, and the
well-known Dr. Parr. He took his first academical degree in the Univer-
sity of Dublin, about 1706. He was honoured by the University of
Oxford with the degree of A. M. in 1768, and in 1709 he obtained the
same distinction at Cambridge. He, for many years, presided over the
theatre of Dublin ; and , at Drury-Lane , he in public estimation stood
next to David Garrick. Tn the literary world he was distinguished by
numerous and useful writings on the pronunciation of the English lan-
guage. Through some of his opinions ran a vein of singularity, mingled
with the rich ore of genius. In his manners there was dignified ease ; —
in his spirit, invincible firmness; — and in his habits and principles, un-
sullied integrity."
CHAPTER XIII.
Illness of the King. —Regency. — Private life of Mr. Sheridan.
Mr. SHERIDAN had assuredly no reason to complain of any defi-
ciency of excitement in the new career to which he now devoted
himself. A succession of great questions, both foreign and domestic,
came , one after the other, like the waves described by the poet , —
" And one no sooner touch'd the shore, and died ,
Than a new follower rose, and swell'd as proudly."
Scarcely had the impulse which his own genius had given to the
prosecution of Hastings, begun to abate , when the indisposition of
the King opened another tield , not only for the display of all his
various powprs , but for the fondest speculations of his interest and
ambition.
The robust health and temperate habits of the Monarch, while
they held out the temptation of a long lease of power to those who
either enjoyed or were inclined to speculate in his favour, gave
proportionably the grace of disinterestedness to the followers of an
Heir-Apparent , whose means of rewarding their devotion were ,
from the same causes, uncertain and remote. The alarming illness
of the Monarch , however, gave a new turn to the prospect : —
Hope was now seen , like the winged Victory of the ancients , to
change sides ; and both the expectations of those who looked for-
ward to the reign of the Prince , as the great and happy millenium
of Whiggism , and the apprehensions of the far greater number, to
whom the morals of His Royal Highness and his friends were not
less formidable than their politics , seemed now on the very eve of
being realised.
On the first meeting of Parliament , after the illness of His Ma-
jesty was known , it was resolved , from considerations of delicacy,
OP R. B. SHERIDAN. 571
that the House should adjourn for a fortnight 5 at the end of which
period it was expected that another short adjournment would be
proposed by the Minister. In this interval, the following judicious
letter was addressed to the Prince of Wales by Mr. Sheridan : —
" SIR,
" From the intelligence of to-day we are led to think that Pitt will
make something more t>f a speech , in moving to adjourn on Thursday,
than was at first imagined. In this case we presume Your Royal Highness
will he of opinion that we must not he wholly silent I possessed Payne
yesterday with my sentiments on the line of conduct which appeared to
me best to he adopted on this occasion, that they might he submitted to
Your Royal Ilighness's consideration , and 1 take the liberty of repeating
my firm conviction, that it will greatly advance Your Royal Highness's
credit, and, in case of events, lay the strongest grounds to baffle every
attempt at opposition to Your Royal Highness's just claims and right,
that the language of those who may be, in any sort, suspected of knowing
Your Royal Ilighness's wishes and feelings, should be that of great
moderation in disclaiming all party views, and. avowing the utmost
readiness to acquiesce in any reasonable delay. At the same time, I am
perfectly aware of the arts which will be practised, and the advantages
which some people will attempt to gain by time : but I am equally
convinced that we should advance their evil views by showing the least
impatience or suspicion at present ; and I am also convinced that a third
party will soon appear, whose efforts may, in the most decisive manner,
prevent this sort of situation and proceeding from continuing long. Payne
will probably have submitted to Your Royal Highness more fully my
idea on this subject, towards which I have already taken some successful
steps'. Your Royal Highness will. I am sure, have the goodness to pardon
the freedom with which I give my opinion;— after which I have only to
add, that whatever Your Royal Highness's judgment decides, shall be
the guide of my conduct, and will undoubtedly be so to others."
Captain (afterwards Admiral) Payne, of whom mention is-made
in this letter, held the situation of Comptroller of the Household of
the Prince of Wales, and was in attendance upon His Royal High-
ness during the early part of the King's illness, at Windsor. The
following letters , addressed by him to Mr. Sheridan at this period ,
contain some curious particulars , both with respect to the Royal
patient himself, and the feelings of those about him, which.,
however secret and confidential they were at the time , may now,
without scruple , be made matters of history : —
" MY DEAR SHERIDAN , Half-past ten at night.
*' I arrived here about three quarters of an hour after Pitt had left it.
I inclose you the copy of a letter the Prince has just written to the
Chancellor, and sent by express, which will give you the outline of the
I Ms must allude to the negotiation with Lord Tharlow.
272 MEMOIRS
conversation with the Prince, as well as the situation of the King's health.
1 think it an advisahle measure', as it is a sword that cuts both ways,
without being unfit to be shewn to whom he pleases, — but which he
will, I think, understand best himself. Pitt desired the longest delay that
could be granted with propriety, previous to the declaration of the present
calamity. The Duke of York, who is looking over me, and is just come
out of the King's room, bids me add, that His Majesty's situation is every
moment becoming worse. His pulse is weaker and weaker ; arid the
Doctors say it is impossible to survive it long, if his situation does not take
some extraordinary change in a few hours.
" So far I had got when your servant came, meaning to send this by
the express that carried the Chancellor's letter ; in addition to which ,
the Prince has desired Doctor Warren to write an account to him, which
he is now doing. His letter says, if an amendment does not take place
in twenty-four hours , it is impossible for the King to support it : — he
adds to me, he will answer for his never living to be declared a lunatic. I
say all this to you in confidence, (though I will not answer for being
intelligible, ) as it goes by your own servant; but I need not add, your
own discretion will remind you how necessary it is that neither my name
nor those 1 use should be quoted even to many of our best friends ,
whose repetition, without any ill intention, might frustrate views they do
not see.
" With respect to the papers, the Prince thinks you had better leave
them to themselves , as we cannot authorise any report , nor can he
contradict the worst ; — a few hours must , every individual says ,
terminate our suspense, and, therefore, all precaution must be needless :
— however, do what you think best. His Royal Highness would write to
you himself; — the agitation he is in will not permit it. Since this letter
was begun, all articulation even seems to be at an end with the poor King;
but for the two hours preceding , lie was in a most determined frenzy.
In short, I am myself in so violent a state of agitation, from participating
in the feelings of those about me, that if 1 am intelligible to you, 'tis
more than I am to myself. Cataplasms are on His Majesty's feet , and
strong fomentations have been used without effect : but let me quit so
painful a subject. The Prince was much pleased with my conversation
with Lord Loughborough, to whom I do not write, as I conceive 'tis the
same, writing to you.
" The Archbishop has written a very handsome letter, expressive of
his duty and offer of service ; but he is not required to come down , it
being thought too late.
" Good night. — I.will write upon every occasion that information may
be useful.
" Ever yours, most sincerely,
"J. W. PAYNE."
" I have been much pleased with the Duke's zeal since my return,
especially in this communication to you."
" DEAR SHERIDAN, Twelve o'clock, noon.
" The King last night about twelve o'clock, being then in a situation
1 Meaning, the communication to the Chancellor.
OF K. B. SHERIDAN. 2T3
he could not Jong have survived, by the effect of James's powder, had a
profuse stool, after which a strong perspiration appeared, and he fell into
a profound sleep. We were in hopes this was the crisis of his disorder,
although the doctors were fearful it was so only with respect to one
part of his disorder. However, these hopes continued not above an hour,
when he awoke, with a well-conditioned skin, no extraordinary degree
of fi'ver, but with the exact state he was in .before, with all the gestures
and ravings of the most confirmed maniac, and a new noise , in imitation
ot the howling of a dog; in this situation he was this morning at one
o'clock, \vhe.n_we came to bed. The Duke of York, who has been twice in
my room in the course of the night, immediately from, the King's ap^rt-
ment, says there has not, been one moment of lucid interval during
the whole night, — which, I must observe to you, is the concurring, as well
as fatal testi mony of all about him, from the first moment of His Majesty's
confinement. The doctors have since had their consultation , and find
His Majesty calmer, and his pulse tolerably good and much reduced, but
the most decided symptoms 'of insanity. His theme has been all this day
on the subject of religion, and of his l>eing inspired, from which his
physicians draw the worst consequences, as to any hopes of amendment.
In this situation His Majesty remains at the present moment, which I
give you at length, to prevent your giving credit to the thousand ridiculous
reports that we hear, even "upon the spot. Tmth is not easily got at in
palaces,, and so 1 find here; and time only slowly brings it to one's
know Jedge. One hears a little bit every day from sqmebody, that has been
reserved with great costiveness, or purposely forgotten; and by all such
accounts I find that the present distemper has been very palpable for some
time past, previous to any confinement from sickness; and So apprehen-
sive have the people about him been of giving offence by interruption, that
the two days (viz. yesterday se'nnight and the Monday following) that he
was five hours each on horseback, he was in a confirmed frenzy. On the
Monday at his return he burst out into tears to the Duke of York , and
said , l He wished to God he might die , for he was going to be mad ; '
and the Queen , who sent to Dr. Warren , on his arrival, privatelv com"-
municatcii her know ledge of his. situation for some time past , and the
melancholy event as it stood exposed. I am prolix upon all these diflereni
reports, that you may be completely master of the subject as it stands,
and which I shall continue to. advertise you of HI all its variations.
Warren, who is the living principle in this business, (for poor Baker is
half crazed himself,) and who I see every half hour, is extremely atten-
tive to the King's disorder. The various fluctuations of his ravings, as well
as general situation of his health, are accurately written down through-
out the day, and this we have got signed by the Physicians everyday,
and all proper enquiry invited; for I think it necessary to do every thing
that may prevent tlicir making use hereafter of any thin£ like jealousy,
suspicion y or mystery, to create' public distrust; and, therefore, the
best and most unequivocal moans of satisfaction shall be always attend
*'d to.
" Five o'clock, P.M.
" So far I had proceeded when I was^ on same business of import-.
»,«.•. obliged to break off till now' ; and , on nty return , found your let*
ff
27 1 MEMOIRS
t.cr; T need not, I hope, say your confidence is as safe as if it was re-
turned to your own mind, and your advice will always be thankfully
adopted. The event we looked for last night is postponed, perhaps for a
short time, so that, at least , we shall have time to consider more ma-
turely. The Doctors told Pitt they would beg not to be obliged to make
their declaration for a fortnight as to the incurability of the King's hiind,
and not to be surprised if, at the expiration of that time, they should
ask more time ; but that they were perfectly ready to declare now, for
the furtherance of public business , that he is now insane ; that it appears
to be unconnected with any other disease of his body, and that they
have tried all their skill without effect, and that to the disease they at
present see no end in their contemplation : — these are theif own words,
which is all that can be implied in an absolute declaration, — for infalli-
bility cannot be ascribed to them
" Should not something be done about the public amusements? If it
was represented to Pitt, it might embarrass them either way; particu-
larly as it might call for a public account every day. I think the Chan-
cellor might take a good opportunity to break with his colleagues, if they
propose restriction : the Law authority would have great weight with
us, as well as preventing even a design of moving the City ; — at all
events, I think Parliament would not confirm their opinion. If Pitt stirs
much , I think any attempt to grasp at power might be fatal to his in-
terest, at least , well turned against it.
" The Prince has sent for me directly, so I'll send this now, and
write again."
In the words, " I think the Chancellor might take a good oppor-
tunity to break \\ilh his colleagues ," the writer alludes to a nego-
tiation which Sheridan had entered into with Lord Thurlow, and
by which it was expected thai the co-operation of that Learned Lord
might be secured, in consideration of his being allowed to retain the
office of Chancellor under the Regency.
Lord Thurlow was one of those persons who, being taken by the
world at their own estimate of themselves, contrive to pass upon the
times in which they live for much more than they are worth. His
bluntness gained him credit for superior honesty , and the same pe-
culiarity of exterior gave a weight , not their own , to his talents ; —
the roughness of the diamond being, by a very common mistake,
made the measure of its value. The negotiation for his alliance on
this occasion was managed , if not first suggested , by Sheridan •, and
Mr. Fox , on his arrival from the Continent, (having been sent for
express upon the first announcement of the King's illness ,) found
considerable progress already made in the preliminaries of this he-
terogeneous compact.
The following letter from Admiral Payne, written immediately
after the return of Mr. Fox, contains* some further allusions to the
negotiations with the Chancellor : —
OF R. B. SHERIDAN. 575
" Mv DEAR SHKRIDA> ,
" I am this moment returned with the Prince from riding, and heard,
with great pleasure , of Charles Fox's arrival ; on which account, he says,
I must go to town to-morrow , when I hope to meet you at h^s house
some time before dinner. The Prince is to see the Chancellor to-morrow,
and therefore he wishes I should be able to carry to town the result, of
t.his interview, or I would set oft' immediately. Due deference is Jiad to
^nr former opinion upon this subject, and no courtship will be practised;
for the chief object in the visit is to show him the King, who has been
worse the two last days than ever : this morning he inade an effort to
jump out of the window, and is now very turbulent and incoherent. Sir
G. Baker went yesterday to give Pitt a little specimen of his loquacity, in
his discovery of some material state-secrets, at 'which he looked asto-
nished. The Physicians wish him to be removed to I£ew ; on which we
shall proceed as we settled. Have you heard any thirig .of the Foreign
Ministers, respecting what the P. said at. Bagshot?" the Frenchman has
been here two days running, but has not seen the prince. He sat with
me half an hour this morning , and seemed much disposed to confer a
little closely. He was all admiration and friendship for the Prince, and
said he was sure every body would unite to give vigour to his government.
" To-morrow you shall hear particulars ; in the mean time I can only
add I have none of the apprehensions contained in Lord L.'s letter. 1
have had correspondence enough myself on this subject to 'convince me
of the impossibility of the Ministry managing the present Parliament by
any contrivance hostile to the Prince. Dinner is on table; so adieu ; and
be assured of the truth and sincerity of
"Yours affectionately,
" Windsor, Monday, 5 o'clock, P. M. J. W". P."
" I have just got Rodney's proxy sent."
The situation in which Mr. Fox was placed , by the treaty thus
commenced, before his arrival, with the Chancellor, was not a little
embarrassing. In addition to the distaste which he must have felt for
such a union , he had been already , it appears , in some degree
pledged to bestow the Great Seal, in the event of a change , upon
Lord Loughborough. Finding , however , the Prince and his party
so far committed in the negotiation with Lord Thurlow , he thought
it expedient, however contrary to his own wishes, ,to accede to their
views; and a letter, addressed by him to Mr. Sheridan on the'occa-
sion, shows the struggle with his own feelings and opinions which
this concession cost him : —
"DEAR SHERIDAN ,
"I have swallowed the pill ,-^-a most bitter one it was, — and have
written to Lord^Loughborough , whose answer of course must be consent.
Whatisto be done mext? Should the Prince himself, you or I, or War-
ren v be the person to speak to the Chancellor ? The objection to the last
is, that he must probably wait for an opportunity, and that no time is
276 MEMOIRS
to be lost. Pray tell me what is to be done : 1 am convinced , after all ,
the negotiation will not succeed, and am not sure that 1 am sorry for it.
I do not remember ever feeling sd uneasy about any political thing I
ever did in my life. Call if you can.
" Yours ever,
" Sat, past 12. "C. J. F."
LordLoughborough, in the mean time, with a vigilance quickened
by his own personal views, kept watch on the mysterious movements
of the Chancellor ; and , as appears by the following letter , not only
saw reason to suspect duplicity himself, but took care that Mr. Fox
and Mr. Sheridan should share in his distrust : —
"Mv DEARS.
"I was afraid to pursue the conversation on tiie circumstance of the
Inspection committed to the Chancellor, lest the reflections that arise
upon it might have made too strong an impression on some of our neigh-
bours last night It does indeed appear to me full of mischief, and of thai
sort most likely to affect the apprehensions of our best friends, (of Lord
John for instance, ) and to increase their reluctance to take any active
part.
" The Chancellor's object evidently is to make his way by himself, and
he has managed hitherto as one very well practised in that game. His
conversations, both with you and Mr. Fox, were encouraging, but at
the same tiiiie checked all explanations on his part , under a pretence of
delicacy towards his colleagues. When he let them go to Salthill, and
contrived to dine at "Windsor, he certainly took a step that most men
would have felt not very delicate in its appearance, and unless there was
some private understanding between him and them , not altogether fair-,
especially if you add to it the sort of conversation he held with regard to
them 1 cannot help thinking that the difficulties of managing the patient
have been excited or improved to lead to the proposal of his inspection ,
(without the Prince being conscious of it, ) for by that situation he gains
an easy and frequent access to him , and an opportunity of possessing the;
confidence of the Queen. I believe this the more from the account of the
tenderness he showed at his first interview, for , lam sure, it is not in
his character to feel any. With a little instruction from Lord Hawksbury,
the sort of management that was carried on by means of the Princess-
Dowager, in the early part of the reign, may easily be practised. In
short, I think he will try to find the key of the back stairs, and, with
that in his pocket, lake any situation that preserves his access, and
enables him to hold a line between different parties. In the present mo-
ment, however, he has taken a position that puts the command of the
House of Lords in his hands, for ******'.
" I wish Mr. Fox and you would give these considerations what weight
you think they deserve, and try if any means can be taken to remedy this
mischief, if it appears in the same light to you.
"Ever yours, etc."
1 The remainder of this sentence is effaced bv damp.
OF R. B. SHERIDAN. 277
Whpl were the motives thai induced Lord Thurtow to break off
^o suddenly his negotiation with the Prince's party , and declare
himself with such vehemence on the side of the King and Mr. Pitt,
it does not appear very easy to ascertain. Possibly , from his op-
porl unities of visiting the Royal Patient , he had been led to conceive
sufficient hopes of recovery to incline the balance of his speculation
thai way ; or, perhaps, in the influence of Lord Loughborough '
over Mr. Fox , he saw a risk of being supplanted in his views on the
Great Seal. Whatever may have been the motive, it is certain that
his negotiation with the Whigs had been amicably carried on , till
within a few hours of his delivery of that speech, from whose en-
thusiasm the public could little suspect how fresh from the incom-
plete bargain of defection was the speaker t and in the 'course of
which he gave vent to the well-known declaration, that " his debt
of" gratitude to His Majesty was ample, for the many favours he had
graciously conferred upon him , which when he forgot , might God
forget him2.11
As it is not my desire to imitate those biographers , who swell their
pages with details that belong more properly to History , I shall for-
bear to enter into a minute or consecutive narrative of the pro-
ceedings of Parliament on the important subject of the Regency. A
writer of political biography has a right, no doubt , like an engineer
who constructs a navigable canal, to lay every brook and spring in
the neighbourhood under contribution for the supply and enrich-
ment of his work. But, to turn into it the whole contents of the
Annual Register and Parliamentary Debates is a sort of literary
engineering , not quite so laudable , which , after the example set by
a Right Reverend biographer of Mr. Pitt, will hardly again be at-
tempted by .any one, whose ambition , at least, it is to be read as.
well as bought.
Mr. Fox and Mr. Pitt , it is well known , differed essentially , not
only with respect to the form of the proceedings, which the. latter
recommended in that suspension of the Royal authority, but also
with respect to the abstract constitutional .principles upon which
those proceedings of 1he Minister were professedly founded. As
soon as the nature of the malady with which the King was afflicted,
had1 been ascertained by a regular examination of the physicians in
attendance on His Majesty , Mr. Pitt moved (on the 10th of De-
cember), that a " Committee be appointed to examine and report
precedents of such proceedings as may liavo been had , in case of
1 Lord Longhborongh is snpposed to have been the person who instilled irjo
tlieniind of Mr! Fox the idea of advancing that claim of Right for the Prince,
•»-liich gave M*. l»ilt, in principle as well as in fact, such an advantage over hiiu.
3 " Forget you ! " said Wilkes ; •• he'll sec yon d — d first."
378 MEMOIRS
the personal exercise of the Royal authority being prevented or in-
terrupted , by infancy , sickness , infirmity , or otherwise , with a
view to provide for the same1."
It was immediately upon this motion that Mr. Fox advanced that
inconsiderate claim of Right for the Prince of Wales . of which his
rival availed himself so dexterously and triumphantly. Having as-
serted that there existed no precedent .whatever thai could bear upon
the present case, Mr. Fox proceeded to say , that "the circumstance
to be provided for did not depend upon their deliberations as a House
of Parliament , — it rested elsewhere. There was then a person in
the kingdoni , different from any other person that any existing
precedents could refer to , — an Heir Apparent , of full age and ca-
pacity to exercise the royal power. It behoved them , therefore, to
waste not a moment unnecessarily, but to proceed with all becoming
speed and diligence to restore the Sovereign power and the exercise
of the Royal Authority. From what he had read of history , from
the ideas he had formed of the law , and , what was still more pre-
cious , of the spirit of the Constitution , from every reasoning and
analogy drawn from those sources , he declared that he had not in
his mind a doubt, and he should think himself culpable if he did
not take the first opportunity of declaring it, that, in the present
condition of His Majesty, His Royal Highness the Prince of Wales
had as clear , as express a Right to exercise the power of Sovereignly ,
during the continuance of the illness and incapacity with which it
had pleased God to afflict His3Iajesty, as in the case of His Majesty's
having undergone a natural demise."
It is said that , during the delivery of this adventurous opinion ,
the countenance of Mr. Pitt was seen to brighten with exultation,
at the mistake into which he perceived his adversary was hurrying ;
and scarcely had the sentence , just quoted , been concluded , when ,
slapping his thigh triumphantly , he turned to the person who sat
next him, and said, " I'll un-Whig the gentleman for the rest of
his life ! "
I Mr. Bmke and Mr. Sheridan were both members of this Committee , and the
following letter from the former to Sheridan refers to it : —
" Mv DEAR SIR,
" My idea was , that on Fox's declaring that the precedents, neither indivi-
dually nor collectively, do at all apply, oar attendance ought to have been merely
formal. But as you think otherwise, I shall certainly be at the Commit tee soon
after One. I rather think that they will not attempt to garble : because, suppos-
ing the precedents to apply, the major part are certainly in their favour. It is not
likely that they mean to suppress, — bnt it is good to be on,onr guard.
"Ever most truly yours, etc.
. "EDMUND RKRKK-"
II (,V;vi/-rf Street, Thursday Morning.
OF R. B. SHKHLDAN 279
Even wilhoul lliis anecdote , which may bo depended upon as
authentic , \vc have stilficionl evidence Uiat such were his feelings',
in the burst of animation and confidence with which he instantly
replied to Mr. FoX, — taking his ground, with an almost equal te-
merity , upon the directly opposite doctrine, and asserting , not only
dial klp in the case of the interruption of the personal exercise of the
lloyal Authority it devolved upon the other branches of the Legis-
lature to provide a substitute for that authority," but that " the Prince
of Wales had no more right to exercise the powers of government
than any other person in Hie realm."
The truth is, the assertion of a Right was equally erroneous , on
both sides. of the question. The Constitution having provided no
legal remedy for such an exigence as had now occurred, the Uvo
Houses of Parliament had as little right (in the strict sense of the word)
to supply the deficiency of the Royal power, as the Prince had to be
the person elected or adjudged for that purpose. Constitutional ana-
logy and expediency were the only authorities by which the mea-
sures, necessary in such a conjuncture, could be* either guided or
sanctioned ; and if the disputants on each side had softened down
their tone to this true and practical view of the case, there would
have been no material difference, in the first stage of the proceedings,
between Ihem , — Mr. Pitt being ready to allow that the Heir Appa-
rent was the dbvious person , to whom expediency pointed as the
depositary of the lloyal power, and Mr. Fox having granted, in a
subsequent explanation of his doctrine , that, strong as was the right
upon which the claim of the Prince was founded , His lloyal High-
ness could not assume that right till it had been formally adjudicated
to him by Parliament. The principle , however , having been im-
prudently broached , Mr. Pitt was too expert a tactician not to avail
himself of the advantage it gave him. He was thus, indeed, furnished
with an opportunity , not only of gaining time by an artful protrac-
tion of the discussions, but of occupying victoriously the ground
of Whiggism , which Mr. Fox had , in his impatience or precipi-
tancy , deserted , and of thus adding to the character , which he had
recently acquired, of a defender of the prerogatives of the Crown,
the more 'brilliant reputation of an asserlor of the rights of the
People.
In the popular view which Mr. Pitt found it convenient to take
of this question , he was led , or fell voluntarily , into some glaring
errors, wlu'eh pervaded the whole of his reasonings on the subject.
In his anxiety to prove the omnipotence of Parliament, he evidently
'•unfounded the Estates of the realm with the Legislature ', arid al-
1 Mr. C. rattan and the Irish Parliament carried this error still farther, and
280 MEMOIRS
tributcd to two branches of the latter such powers as are only legally
possessed by the whole three in Parliament assembled. For the pur-
pose , too , of Haltering the people with the notion , that to them had
now reverted the right of choosing their temporary Sovereign , he
applied a principle , which ought to be reserved for extreme cases ,
to an exigence by no means requiring this ultimate appeal , — the
defect in the government being such as the still existing Estates of
the realm, appointed to speak the will of the people , but superseding
any direct exercise of the power , were fully competent , as in the
instance of the Revolution , to remedy1.
Indeed , the solemn use of such language as Mr, Pitt , in his over-
acted Whiggism, employed upon this occasion, — namely, that the
" fight" of appointing a substitute for Ihe Royal power was " to be
found in Ihe voice and the sense of the people ," — is applicable only
to those conjunctures , brought on by misrule and oppression , when
all forms are lost in the necessity of relief , and when the right of the
people to change and choose their rulers is among the most sacred and
inalienable that either nature or social polity has ordained. But , to
apply tho language of that last resource to the present emergency
was to brandish the sword of Goliath2 on an occasion that by no
means called for it.
The question of the Prince's claim , — in spite of the efferts of the
Prince himself and of his Royal relatives to avert the agitation of it,
— was , for evident reasons , forced into discussion by the Minister ,
and decided by a majority , not only of the two Houses but of the
nation , in his favour. During one of the long debates to which the
question gave rise , Mr. Siicridan allowed himself to be betrayed into
some expressions , which , considering the delicate predicament in
which Ihe Prince was placed by the controversy, were not marked
with his usual tact and sagacity. In alluding to the claim of Right
advanced for His Royal Highness , and deprecating any further agi-
tation of it, he "reminded the Right Honourable Gentleman (Mr.
PiU) of the danger of provoking that claim to be asserted [a loud cry
of hear! hear!], which, he observed, had not yet been preferred.
[Another cry of hear ! hear!]" This was the very language that
Mr. Pitt mtfst wished his adversaries to assume , and , accordingly ,
he turned it to account with all his usual mastery and haughtiness.
founded all their proceedings on the neces.sity of •« providing for the deficiency of
the Third Estate."
' The most luminous view that has been taken of this Question is to be fo&nd
in an Article-of the Edinburgh Review, on the Regency of 181 1,— written by OIK
of the most learned and able men of buf day, Mr. JoKa Allen.
- A. simile applied by Lord Homers to thp pqwer of Impeachment, which, he
sa/d , "shonld be like Goliath's sword, kept in thb temple , and not used but upow
great occasions."
OF R- B. SHERIDAN. 281
"He had now,'1 he said, " an additional reason for asserting the
authority of the House, and defining- the boundaries of Right, when
the deliberative faculties of Parliament were invaded , and an in-
decent menace thrown out to^awe and influence their proceedings.
In the discussion of the question, the House , he trusted, would do
their duly, in spite of any threat that might be thrown out. Men,
who felt their native freedom, would'notsobmit to a threat, however
high the authority from which it might come' ."
The restrictions of the Prerogative with wliich Mr. Pitt thought
proper to encumber the transfer of the Royal power to the Prince ,
formed the second great point of discussion between the parties, and
brought equally adverse principles into play , Mr. Fox , still main-
taining his position on the side of Royalty, defended it with much
more tenable weapons than- the question of Right had enabled him to
wield. So founded , indeed , in the purest principles of Whiggism
did he consider his opposition , on this memorable occasion, to any
limitation of the Prerogative in the hands of a Regent, that he has ,
in his History of James II., put those principles deliberately upon
record , as a fundamentalarticle in the creed of his party. The pas-
sage to which I allude occurs in his remarks upon the Exclusion Bill $
and as it contains, in a condensed/orm, the spirit of what he urged
on the same point in 1789, I jcannot do better than lay his own
words before the reader. After expressing his opinion that, at the
period of which he writes, the measure of exclusion from the mo-
narchy altogether would have been preferable to any limitation of its
powers , he proceeds to say : — " The Whigs , who consider the
powers of the Crown as a trust for the people , a doctrine which the
Tories themselves , when pushed in argument $ will sometimes ad-
mit , naturally think it their duty rather to change the manager of the
trust than impair the subject of it -, while others , who consider them
as Ihe right or property of the King, will as naturally act as they
would do in the case of any other property , and consent to the loss
or annihilation of any part of it , for the purpose of preserving the
remainder to him , whom they style the rightful owner." Further
on he adds : — "The Royal Prerogative oujht, according to the
Whigs , to be reduced to such powers as are in their exercise bene-
ficial io the people ; and of the benefit of these they will not rashly
suffer the people to be deprived , whether the executive power be in
the hands of an hereditary or of an elective King, of a Regent, or
of any other denomination of magistrate ; while, on the other hand,
they who consider Prerogative with reference only to Royalty will .
with equal readiness, consent cither to the extension or the.suspen~
M 'V'Jf Vfl
' Jni partial ttcport of (ill the Proceedings on the Subject of the Regency.
28* MEMOIRS
sion of its exercise , as lire occasional interests of the Prince may
seem lo require.1'
Taking this as a correct exposition of the doctrines of the two
parties, of which Mr. Fox and Mr. Pitt may be considered to have
been the representatives in the Regency question of 1789, it will
strike some minds that, however the Whig may flatter himself that
the principle by which he is guided in'such exigencies is favourable
to liberty , and how ever the Tory may , with equal sincerity , believe
his suspension of the Prerogative on these occasions to be advan-
tageous to the Crown , yet that in both of the principles, so defined ,
there is an evident tendency to produce effects wholly different from
those which the parties professing them contemplate.
On the one side , lo sanction from authority the notion , that there
are some powers of the crown which may be safely dispensed with ,
— to accustom the people lo an abridged exercise of the Prero-
gative, with the risk of suggesting to their minds that its full efficacy
needs not be resumed, to set an example, in short, of reducing the
Kingly Power , which , by its success , may invite and authorize
still further encroachments ,— all these are dangers to which the
alleged doctrine of Toryism , whenever brought into practice , ex-
poses its idol ; and more particularly in enlightened and speculative
times , when the minds of men are in quest of the right and the
useful , and when a superfluity of power is one of those abuses
which they are least likely to overlook or tolerate. In such seasons,
the experiment of the Tory might lead to all that he most depre-
cates , and the branches of the Prerogative , once cut away , might ,
like the lopped boughs of the fir-tree, never grow again.
On the other hand, the Whig who asserts that the Royal Prero-
gative ought to be reduced to such powers as are beneficial to the
people, and yet stipulates, as an invariable principle, for the transfer
of that Prerogative full and unimpaired whenever it passes into
other hands , appears , even more perhaps than the Tory , to throw
an obstacle in the way of his own object. Circumstances , it is not
denied, may arise, when the increase of the powers of the Crown ,
in other ways, may. render it advisable to controul some of its
established prerogatives. But , where are we to find a fit moment
for such a reform , — or what opening will be left for it by this fasti-
dious Whig principle, which, in 1680, could see no middle step
between a change of the Succession and an undiminished main-
tenance of the Prerogative , and which , in 1789, almost upon the
heels of a Declaration that " the power of the Crown had increased
and ought to be diminished," protested against even an experi-
mental reductjpn of il !
According lo Mr. Fox, it is a distinctive characteristic of Ihe
OF R. B. 'SHERIDAN. ?S3
Tory, to attach more importance to (he person of the King than to
his office. But , assuredly, the Tory is not singular in thi£ want ef
political abstraction ; and in England, (from a defect , Hume thinks ,
inherent in all limited monarchies , ) the personal qualities and opi-
nions of the Sovereign have considerable influence upon the whole
course of public affairs, — being felt alike in that courtly sphere
around them where their attraction acts, and in that outer circle of
opposition where their repulsion comes into play. To this influence,
then, upon the Government and the community, of which no ab-
straction can deprive the person of the monarch , the Whig principle
in question ( which seems to consider entireness of Prerogative as
necessary to a King , las the enlireness of his limbs was held to be
among the Athenians,1) superadds the vast power, both actual and
virtual , which would flow from the inviolability of the Royal office,
and forecloses, so far, the chance which the more pliant Tory doc-
trine would leave open, of counteracting the effects of the King's
indirect personal influence , by ^curtailing or weakening the grasp
of some of his direct regal powers. Ovid represents, the Deity of
Light (and on an occasion, too, which may be called a Regency
question) as crowned with moveafoie rays., which might be put off
when loo strong or dazzling. But ^according to this principle, the
crown of Prerogative must keep its rays fixed and immoveable, and
(as the poet expresses it) " circa «Z;;U£>OMNE micantes."
Upon the whole, however high the authorities by which this Whig
doctrine was enforced in 1789 , its manifest tendency, in most cases,
lo secure a perpetuity of superfluous powers to the Crown , appears
to render it until , at least as an invariable principle ,-for any party
professing to have the liberty of the people for their object. The
Prince, in his admirable Letter upon the subject of the Regency to
Mr. Pill, was made to express the unwillingness which he felt, " that
in his person an experiment should be made to ascertain with how
small a portion of Kingly power the executive government of the
country might be carried on ; " — but imagination has not far lo go
in supposing a case, where the enormous patronage vested in !he
Crown , and the consequent increase of a Royal bias through the
community, might give such an undue and unsafe preponderance
lo lhat branch of the Legislature , as would render any safe oppor-
tunity, however acquired, of ascertaining with /tow much less power
the executive government could be carried on , most acceptable , in
spile of any dogmas to the contrary, to all true lovers as well of the
monarchy as of the people.
Having given thus much consideration to the opinions and prin-
ciples professed on both sicjes of this constitutional question, it is
mortifying s alter all, to be obliged to acknowledge thut , in the
284 MEMOIRS
relative situation of the two parties at the moment , may be found
perhaps the real, and but too natural, source of the decidedly op-
posite views which they took of the subject. Mr. Pitt , about to sur-
render the possession of power to his rival , had a very intelligible
interest in reducing the value of the transfer, and ( as a retreating
army spike the guns they leave behind)" rendering the engines of
Prerogative as useless as possible to his successor. Mr. Fox , too ,
had as natural a motive to oppose such a design •, and , aware that
the chief aim of these restrictive measures was to entail upon the
Whig ministry of the Regent a weak Government and strong Op-
position , would , of course , eagerly welcome the aid of any abstract
principle , that might sanction him in resisting such a mutilation of
the Royal power $ — well knowing that (as in the case of the Peerage
Bill in the reign of George I,) the proceedings altogether were
actuated more by ill-will to the successor in the trust , fhyn by any
sincere zeal for the purity of its exercise.
Had the situations of the two leaders been reversed , it is more
than probable that their modes of thinking and acting would have
been so likewise. Mr. Pitt , \vifh the prospect of power before his
eyes , would have been still more strenuous , perhaps , for the un-
broken transmission of the Prerogative — his natural leaning on the
side of power being increased by his own approaching share in it.
Mr. Fox too, if stopped, like his rival, in a career of successful
administration , and obliged to surrender up the reins of the stale to
Tory guidance , might have found in his popular principles a still
more plausible pretext, for the abridgment of power in such uncon-
stitutional hands. He might even too, perhaps, (as his India Bill
warrants us in supposing ,) have been tempted into the same sort of
alienation of the Royal patronage, as that which Mr. Pitt now practised
in the establishment of the Queen , and have taken care to leave
behind him a strong hold of Whiggism , to facilitate the resumption
of his position, whenever an opportunity might present itself. Such
is human nature , even in its noblest specimens , and so arc the
strongest spirits shaped by the mould in which chance and circum-
stances have placed them.
Mr. Sheridan spoke frequently in the Debates on this question ,
but his most important agency lay in the less public business con-
nected w ilh it. He was the confidential adviser of the Prince through-
out , directed every step he took , and was the author of most of his
correspondence on the subject. There is little doubt , I think , that
the celebrated and masterly Letter to Mr. Pitt , which by some
persons has been attributed to Burke , and by others to Sir Gilbert
Elliot (afterwards Lord Minto), was principally the production of
Mr. Sheridan. For the supposition Mi it was written by Burko
OF R. B. SHERIDAN. J85
there arc , beside the merils of the production , but very scanty
grounds. So little was he at that period in those habits of confidence
with the Prince, which would entitle him to be selected fop such a
task in preference to Sheridan , that but eight or ten days before
the date of this letter (Jan. 2. ) he had declared in the House of Com-
mons, that " he knew as little of the inside of Carlton House as he
did of Buckingham House." Indeed the violent state of this extra-
ordinary man's temper, during the whole of the discussions and
proceedings on the Regency, would have rendered^him , even had
his intimacy with the Prince been closer, an unfit person for the
composition of a document requiring so much caution^ temper,
and delicacy.
The conjecture that Sir Gilbert Elliot was the author of it is
somewhat more plausible, — that gentleman being at this period
high in the favour of the Prince , and possessing talents sufficient
to authorize the suspicion (which was in itself a reputation) that he
had been the writer of a composition so admirable. But it seems
hardly necessary to go farther, in quest of its author, than Mr. She-
ridan , who , besides being known to have acted the part of the
Prince's adviser through the whole transaction, is proved by the
rough copies found among his papers , to have written several other
important documents connected with the Regency.
1 may also add , that an eminent statesman of the present day,
who was at that period , though very young , a distinguished friend
of Mr. Sheridan, and who has shown by the ability of his own state
papers that he has not forgot the lessons of that school from which
this able production emanated , remembers having heard some
passages of the Letter discussed in Bruton Street , as if it were then
in the progress of composition , and has always, I believe , been
under the impression that it was principally the work of Mr. She^
ridan1.
I had written thus far on the subject of this Letter — and shall
leave what I have written as a memorial of the fallacy of such con-
jectures— when, having still some doubts of my correctness in
attributing the honour of the composition to Sheridan , I resolved
to ask the opinion of my friend , Sir James Mackintosh , a person
above all others qualified , by relationship of talent , to recognize
and hold parley with the mighty spirit of Burke , in whatever shape
ihc " Royal Dane" may appear. The strong impression on his mind
— amounting almost to certainly — was, that no other hand but that
1 To this authority may be added also that of the Bishop of Winchester, who
says, — "Mr. Sheridan was supposed to have been materially concerned in drawing
up this admirable composition."
IHfi MEMOIRS
of Burke could have written the greater part of the letter ' - and fay
a more diligent enquiry, in Which his kindness assisted me, it has
been ascertained that his opinion was, as it could not fail to be,
correct. The following extract from a letter written by Lord Minto
at the time , referring obviously to the surmise that he was himself
the author of the paper, confirms beyond a doubt the fact, that it
was written almost solely by Burke : —
' " ^January 5i$*, 1789.
" There was not a word of the Prince's Letter to Pitt mine. It was
originally Burke's , altered a little, but not improved, by Sheridan and
other critics. The answer made by the Prince yesterday to the Address
of tbe two Houses was entirely mine , and done in a great hurry half an
hour before it was to be delivered. "
While it is with regret I give up the claim of Mr. Sheridan to
this fine specimen of English composition, it but adds to my in-
tense admiration of Burke — not on account of the beauty of the
writing, for his fame required no such accession — but from thai
triumph of mind over temper which it exhibits — that forgetfulness
of Self, the true, transmigrating power of genius, which enabled
him thus to pass his spirit into the station of Royally, and to as-
sume all the calm dignity, both of style and feeling that became it.
It was to be expected that the conduct of Lord Thurlow at this
period should draw down upon him all the bitterness of those who
were in the secret of his ambidextrous policy, and who knew both
his disposition to desert , and the nature of the motives that pre-
vented him To Sheridan , in particular, such a result of a nego-
tiation , in which he had been the principal mover and mediator,
could not be otherwise than deeply mortifying. Of all the various
talents with which he was gifted , his dexterity in political intrigue
and management was that of which he appears to have been most
vain 5 and this vanity it was that , at a later period of his life , some-
times led him to branch off from the main body of his party, upon
secret and solitary enterprises of ingenuity, which — as may be
expected from all such independent movements of a partisan —
generally ended in thwarting his friends and embarrassing himself.
1 It is amnsing to observe how tastes differ; — the following Is the opinion
entertained of this letter by a gentleman, who, I understand and can easily be-
lieve, is an old established Reviewer. After mentioning that it was attributed to
the pen of Ikirke, he adds , — " The stoiy, however, does not seem entitled to much
credit , for the internal character of the paper is too vapid and'heavy for the genius
of Burke, whose ardent mind would assuredly have diffused vigour into the
composition, and the correctness of whose judgment would as certainly have
preserved it from the charge of inelegance and grammatical deficiency." — Dr.
W ATKINS, Life of Sheridan.
Snch, in nine cases out often, are the periodical guides of public taste.
OF R. B. tSHERIDAN. «87
In the debate on that clause of the Bill , which restricted the
Ilegenl from granting places or pensions in reversion , Mr. She-
ridan is represented as having attacked Lord Thurlow in terms of
the most unqualified severity, — speaking of " the natural ferocity
and sturdiness of his temper," and of " his brutal bluffness-." But
to such abuse , unseasoned by wit , Mr. Sheridan was not at all
likely to have condescended , being well aware that, " as in smooth
oil the razor best is set," so satire is whetted to its most perfect
keenness by courtesy. His clumsy reporters have, in this, as in
almost all other instances , misrepresented him.
With equal personality, but more playfulness,, Mr. Burke, in
exposing that w retched fiction , by which the Great Seal was con-
verted into the Third Branch of the Legislature , and the assent of
the King forged to a Bill , in which his incapacity to give either
assent or dissent was declared, thus expressed himself :-~" But
what is to be done when the Crown is in a deliquium 7 It was in-
tended , he had heard , to set up a man with black brows, and a large
wig, a kind of scare-crow to the two Houses, who was to give a
fictitious assent in the royal name — and this to be binding on
the people at large!" The following remarkable passage, too , in a
subsequent Speech , is almost too well known to be cited : — " The
other House," he said, " were not yet perhaps recovered from
that extraordinary burst of the pathetic which had been exhibited
the other evening ; they had not yet dried their eyes , or been
restored to their former placidity, and were unqualified to attend to
new business. The tears shed in that House on the occasion to
which he alluded, were not the tears of patriots for dying laws,
but of Lords for their expiring places. The iron tears, which flowed
down Pluto's cheek, rather resembled the dismal bubbling of the
Styx, than the gentle murmuring streams of Aganippe."
While Lord Thurlow was thus treated by the party whom he had
so nearly joined , he was but coldly welcomed back fay the Minister
whom he had so nearly deserted. His reconciliation , too , with the
latter was by no means either sincere or durable, — the renewal of
friendship between politicians , on such occasions , being generally
like that which Ihe Diable Boiteux describes , as having taken place,
between himself and a brother sprite, — ;' We were reconciled,
embraced; and have hated each other heartily ever since."
In the Regency, indeed, and the transactions connected with it,
may be found the source of most of those misunderstandings and
enmities, which broke out soon after among the eminent men of
that day, and were attended with consequences so important lo
fhemselves and the country. By the difference just mentioned, be-
tween Mr. Pitt and Lord Thurlow, the ministerial arrangements of
288 MEMOIRS
1793 were facilitated , and the learned Lord , after all his slurdy
pliancy, consigned to a life of ineffectual discontent ever after.
The disagreement between Mr. Burke and Mr. Fox , if not ac-
tually originating now — and its foundations had been , perhaps ,
laid from the beginning , in the total dissimilarly of their disposi-
tions and sentiments — was , at least , considerably ripened and acce-
lerated by the events of this period, and by the discontent that each
of them, like partners in unsuccessful play, was known to feel at
the mistakes which the other had committed in the game. Mr. Fox
had , unquestionably, every reason to lament as well as blame the
violence and virulence by which his associate has disgraced the con-
test. The effect , indeed , produced upon the public by the irreverent
sallies of Burke , and by the too evident triumph , both of hate
and hope , with which he regarded the calamitous situation of the
King , contributed not a little to render still lower the already low
temperature of popularity at which his party stood throughout the
country. It seemed as if a long course of ineffectual struggle in po-
litics , of frustrated ambition and unrewarded talents , had at length
exasperated his mind to a degree beyond endurance •, and the extra-
vagances into which he was hurried in his speeches on this ques-
tion , appear to have been but the first workings of that impatience
of a losing cause — that resentment of failure, and disgust at his
partners in it — which soon afterwards found such a signal opportu-
nity of exploding.
That Mr. Burke , upon far less grounds , was equally discontented
with his co-operators in this emergency, may be collected from the
following passage of a letter, addressed by him in the summer of this
year to Lord Charlemont, and given by Hardy in his Memoirs of that
nobleman : —
" Perpetual failure, even though nothing in that failure can be fixed
on the improper choice of the object or the injudicious choice of means,
will detract every day more and more from a man's credit , until be ends
without success and without reputation. In fact, a constant pursuit even
of the best objects, without adequate instruments, detracts something
from the opinion of a man's judgment. This, 1 think, may be in part the
cause of the inactivity of others of our friends who are in the vigour of life
and in possession of a great degree of lead and authority. I donotblame tbem,
though! lament tbatstate oftbe public mind, in whicb the people can con-
sider the exclusion of such talents and such virtues from their service, as a
point gained to tbem. The only point in which I can find any thing to
blame in these friends, is their not taking the effectual means, which
they certainly bad in their power, of making an honourable retreat from
their prospect of power into tbe possession of reputation, by an effectual
defence of themselves. There was an opportunity which was not made
use of for that purpose, and which could scarcely bare failed of turning
tbe tables on their adversaries,"
OF R. B. SHERIDAN. 589
Another instance of the embittering influence of these transactions
may be traced in Iheir effects upon Mr. Burke and Mr. Sheridan —
between whom there had arisen a degree of emulation , amounting
to jealousy, which , though hitherto chiefly confined to one of the
parties , received on this occasion such an addition of fuel , as spread
il equally through the minds of both , and conduced, in no small
degree , to the explosion that followed. Both Irishmen , and both
adventurers in a region so much elevated above their original sta-
tion, it was but natural that some such feeling should kindle be-
tween them •, and that , as Burke was already mid-way in his career,
when Sheridan was but entering the 'field , the stirrings , whether of
emulation or envy, should first be felt by the latter. It is , indeed ,
said that in the ceremonial of Haslings's Trial , the privileges en-
joyed by Burke , as a Privy-counsellor, were regarded with evident
uneasiness by his brother Manager, who could not as yet boast the
distinction of Right Honourable before his name. As soon, how-
ever, as the rapid run of Shettdan's success had enabled him to over-
take his veteran rival , this feeling of jealousy took possession in full
force of the latter, — and the close relations of intimacy and con-
fidence , to which Sheridan was now admitted both by Mr. Fox and
the Prince , are supposed to have been not the least of those causes
of irritation and disgust, by which Burke was at length driven to
break with the party altogether, and to show his gigantic strength
at parting, by carrying away some of the strongest pillars of Whig-
gisrn in his grasp.
Lastly; to this painful list of the feuds, whose origin is to be found
in the times and transactions of which we are speaking , may be
added that slight, but too visible cloud of misunderstanding, which
arose between Mr. Fox and Mr. Sheridan , and which , though it
never darkened into any thing serious , continued to pervade their
intercourse with each other to the last — exhibiting itself, on the part
of Mr. Fox, in a degree of distrustful reserve not natural to him,
and , on the side of Sheridan , in some of those counter- workings
of influence , which , as I have already said , he was sometimes in-
duced by his love of the diplomacy of politics to practise.
Among the appointments named in contemplation of a Regency,
the place of Treasurer of the Navy was allotted to Mr. Sheridan. He
would never, however, admit the idea of certainly in any of the ar-
rangements so sanguinely calculated upon , but continually im-
pressed upon his impatient friends the possibility, if not probability,
of the King's recovery. Me had even refused to look at the plan of
Hie apartments , .which he himself was to occupy in Somerset House ;
and had but just agreed that it should be sent to him for examina-
tion , on the very day when the King was declared convalescent by
19
290 MEMOIRS
Dr. Warren. "He entered his own house (to use the words of the
relater of the anecdote ) at dinner-time with the news. There were
present ,— besides Mrs. Sheridan and his sister, — Tickell , who, on
the change of administration , was to have been immediately brought
into Parliament, — Joseph Richardson, who was to have had Tickell's
place of Commissioner of the Stamp-office , — Mr. Reid , and some
others. Not one of the company but had cherished expectations from
the approaching change — not one of them , however, had lost so
much as Mr. Sheridan. With his wonted equanimity he announced
the sudden turn affairs had taken , and looking round him cheer-
fully, as he filled a large glass , said , — ' Let us all join in drinking
His Majesty's speedy recovery.'
The measures which the Irish Parliament adopted on this occa-
sion, would have been productive of anomalies, both theoretic and
practical, had the continued illness of the King allowed the projected
Regency to lake place. As it was , the most material consequence
that ensued was the dismissal from their official situations of Mr. Pon-
sonby and other powerful individuals , by which the Whig parly re-
ceived such an accession of strength , as enabled them to workout
for their country the few blessings of liberty that still remain to her.
Among the victims to their voles on this question was Mr. Charles
Sheridan , who , on the recovery of the King , was dismissed from
his office of Secretary of War, but received compensation by a pen-
sion of 1200/. a-year, with the reversion of 300/. a-year to his
wife.
The ready and ardent burst of devotion with which Ireland, at
this moment, like the Pythagoreans at their morning worship,
turned to welcome with her Harp the Rising Sun, was long re-
membered by the object of her homage with pride and gratitude ,
— and , let us trust, is not even yet entirely forgotten I.
It has already been mentioned that to Mr. Sheridan, at this pe-
riod , was entrusted the task of drawing up several of the Slate Papers
of the Heir Apparent. From the rough copies of Ihesc papers that
have fallen inlo my hands, I shall content myself with selecting two
Letters — the first of which was addressed by the Prince to the Queen,
immediately after the communication to Her Majesty of the Reso-
lution of the two Houses placing Ihe Royal Household under her
control.
Before Your Majesty gives an answer to the application for your Royal
permission to place under Your Majesty's separate authority, the direction
1 This vain hope was expressed before the late decision on the Catholic question
had proved to the Irish that, where their rights are concerned, neither public nor
private pledges are regarded.
OF R. B. SHERIDAN 391
and appointment of the King's household , and thereby to separate from
the difficult and arduous situation which I am unfortunately called upon
to fill , the accustomed and necessary support which has ever belonged
to it, permit me, with every sentiment of duty ami affection towards
Your Majesty, to entreat your attentive perusal of the papers which I
have the honour to enclose. They contain a sketch of the plan now pro-
posed to be carried into execution as communicated to me by Mr. Pitt,
and the sentiments which I found myself bound in duty to declare in
reply to that communication. I take the liberty of lodging these papers
in Your Majesty's hands, confiding that, whenever it shall please Pro-
vidence to remove the malady with which the King my father is now
unhappily afflicted, Your Majesty will, in justice to me and to those of
the Royal family whose affectionate concurrence and support I have
received , take the earliest opportunity of submitting them to his Royal
perusal , in order that no interval of lime may elapse before he is in
possession of the true motives and principles upon which I have acted.
I here solemnly repeat to Your Majesty, that among those principles
there is not one which influences my mind so much as the firm per-
suasion I have, that my conduct in endeavouring to maintain unim-
paired and undivided the just rights, prerogatives, and dignity of the
Crown, in the person of the King's representative, is the only line of
conduct which would entitle me to His Majesty's approbation, or enable
me to stand with confidence in his Royal presence on the .happy day of
his recovery; — and on the contrary, that those who, under colour of
respect and attachment to his Royal person , have contrived this project
for enfeebling and degrading the executive authority of the realm, will
l>e considered by him as having risked the happiness of his people and
the security of the throne itself, by establishing a fatal precedent which
may hereafter be urged against his own authority, on as plausible pre-
tences , or revived against the just rights of his family. In speaking my
opinions of the motive of the projectors of this scheme, I trust I need not
assure Your Majesty that the respect, duty, and affction I owe to Your Ma-
jestyhaveneversuffered me for a single moment to consider you counte-
nancing , in the slightest degree , their plan or their purposes. I have the
firmest reliance on Your Majesty's early declaration to me, on the subject
of public affairs , at the commencement of our common calamity ; and ,
whatever may be the efforts of evil or interested advisers, I have the
same confidence that you will never permit or endure that the influence
of your respected name shall be profaned to the purpose of distressing
the governement, and insulting the person of your son. How far those,
who are evidently pursuing both these objects , may be encouraged by
Your Majesty's acceptance of one part of the powers purposed to be
lodged in your hands , I will not presume to say '. The proposition has
1 In speaking of the extraordinary imperium in imperio , with which the com -
mand of so much power and patronage wonld have invested the Queen, the
Annual Register (Robinson's) remarks justly, " It was not the least extraordinary
circumstance in these transactions , lhat the Qneen could be prevailed upon to
lend her name to a project which would eventually have placed her in avowed
rivalship with her son, and, at a moment when her attention might seem to be
absorbed by domestic calamity, have established herat the head of a political parly."
293 MEMOIRS
assumed the shape ef a Resolution of Parliament, and therefore I ant
silent.
" Your Majesty will' do me the honour to weigh the opinions I formed
and declared before Parliament had entertained the plan , and , with
those before you , your own good judgment will decide I have only to
add, that whatever that decision may be, nothing will ever alter the
interest of true aflection and inviolable duty," etc. etc.
The second Letter that I shall give , from the rough copy of
Mr. Sheridan , was addressed by the Prince to the King after his
recovery, announcing the intention of His Royal Highness to submit
to His Majesty a Memorial, in vindication of his own conduct and
that of his Royal brother the Duke of York, throughout the whole of
the proceeding consequent upon His Majesty's indisposition.
" SIR,
" Thinking it probable that I should have been honoured with your
commands to attend Your Majesty on Wednesday last, I have unfor-
tunately lost the opportunity of paying my duty to Your Majesty before
your departure from Weymouth. The accounts I have received of Yonr
MajesU 's health have given me the greatest satisfaction ; and should it
be Your Majesty's intention to return to Weymouth, I trust, Sir, there
will be no impropriety in my then intreating Your 3Iajesty's gracious
attention to a point of the greatest moment to the peace of my own
mind, and one in which 1 am convinced Your 31ajesty's feelings are
equally interested. Your Majesty's letter to my brother the Duke of Cla-
rence^ in May last, was the first direct intimation I had ever received
that my conduct and that of my brother the Duke of York, during Your
Majesty's late lamented illness , had brought on us the heavy misfortune
of Your Majesty's displeasure. I should be wholly unworthy the return
of Your Majesty's confidence and good opinion, which will ever be the
first objects of my life, if I could have read the passage I refer to in that
letter without the deepest sorrow and regret for the effect produced on
Your Majesty's mind ; though at the same time I felt the firmest per-
suasion that Your Majesty's generosity and goodness would never permit
that effect to remain , without affording us an opportunity of knowing
what had been urged against us, of replying to our accusers, and of
justifying ourselves, if the means of justification were in our power.
"Great however as my impatience and anxiety were on this subject,
I felt it a superior consideration not to intrude any unpleasing or
agitating discussion upon Your Majesty's attention, during an excursion
devoted to the case and amusement necessary for the re-establishmenl
of Your Majesty's health. I determined to sacrifice my own feelings , and
to wait with resignation till the fortunate opportunity should arrive,
when Your Majesty's own paternal goodness would, I was convinced ,
lead you even to invite your sons to that fair hearing , which your justice
would not deny to the meanest individual of your subjects. In this
painful interval 1 have employed myself in drawing up a full statement
and account of my conduct during the period alluded to , and of the
motives and circumstances which influenced me." When thes^ shall be
OF R- B. SHERIDAN. 293
Viumbly submitted to Your Majesty's consideration, I may be possibly
found to have erred in judgment, and to have acted on mistaken prin-
ciples , but I have the most assured conviction that I shall not l>e found
to have been deficient in that duteous affection to Your Majesty which
nothing shall ever diminish. Anxious for every thing that may contribute
to the comfort and satisfaction of Your Majesty's mind, I cannot omit
this opportunity of lamenting those appearancesof a less gracious disposi-
tion in the Queen, towards my brothers and myself, than we were accus-
tomed to experience ; and to assure Your Majesty, that if by your affec-
tionate interposition these most uhpleasant sensations shonld be happily
removed, it would be an event not less grateful to our minds than
satisfactory to Your Majesty's own benign disposition. T will not
longer," etc. etc. ' " G. P."
The Statement here announced by His Royal Highness (a copy of
which I have seen , occupying ^ with its Appendix , near a hundred
folio pages , ) is supposed to have been drawn up by Lord Minto,
To descend from documents of such high import to one of a much
humbler nature , the following curious memorial was presented this
year to Mr. Sheridan, by a literary gentleman whom the Whig party
thought it worth while to employ in their service , and who , as far
as industry went, appears to have been not unworthy of his hire.
Simonides is said to be the first author, that ever wrote for pay, but
Simonides little dreamt of the perfection to which his craft would one
day be brought.
Memorial for Dr. W. T.', Fitzroy- Street , Fitzroy- Chapel.
"In May, 1787, Dr. Parr, in the name of his political friends , engaged
Dr. T. to embrace those opportunities, which his connections with
booksellers and periodical publications might afford him, of supporting
the principles of their party. Mr. Sheridan in August, 1787, gave two
notes , 5o/. each , to Dr. T. for the first year's service, which notes were
paid at different periods — the first by Mr. Sheridan at Brookes's, in
January, 1788, the second by Mr. Windham in May, 1788. Mr. She-
ridan, in different conversations, encouraged Dr. T. to go on with the
expectation of a like sum yearly, or 5o/. half yearly. Dr. T. with this
encouragement engaged in different publications for the purpose of this
agreement. He is charged for the most part with the political and
historical articles in the Analytical Review, and he also occasionally
writes the Political Appendix to the English Review, of which parti-
cularly he wrote that for April last, and that for June last. He also every
week writes an abridgment of Politics for the Whitehall Evening Post ,
1 This industrious Scotchman ( of whose 'name I have ouly given the initials)
was not without some share of humour. Ou hearing that a certain modern philo-
sopher had carried his 'belief in the perfectibility of all living things'. so far, a.-t to
say that he did not despair of seeing the day when tigers themselves might be
educated , Dr. T. exclaimed , "I should like dearly to see him in a cage with m>n
of his pnpils! "
294 MEMOIHS
and a Political Review every month for a Sunday paper entitled The
Review and Sunday Advertiser. In a Romance, entitled 'Mammoth, or
Human Nature displayed , etc.,' Dr. T. has shown how mindful he is
on all occasions of his engagements to those who confide in him. He has
also occasionally moved other engines, which it would be tedious and
might appear too trifling to mention. Dr. T. is not ignorant that un-
common changes have happened in the course of this last year, that is,
the year preceding May, 1789. Instead of too/., therefore, he will be
satisfied with 5o/. for that year, provided that this abatement shall not
form a precedent against his claim of ioo/. annually, if his further
services shall be deemed acceptable. There is one pojLnt on which
Dr. T. particularly reserved himself, namely, to make^jino attack on
Mr. Hastings, and this will be attested by Dr. Parr, Mr. Sheridan, and,
if the Doctor rightly recollects, by Mr. Windham.
" Fitzroy-Street , -21 st July, 1789."
Taking into account all the various circumstances that concurred
to glorify this period of Sheridan's life , we may allow ourselves , I
think , to pause upon it as the apex of the pyramid , and , whether
we consider his fame , his talents , or his happiness , may safely say,
" Here is their highest point."
The new splendour which his recent triumphs in eloquence had
added to a reputation already so illustrious , — the power which he
seemed to have acquired over the future destinies of the country, by
his acknowledged influence in the councils of the Heir Apparent ,
and the tribute paid to him , by the avowal both of friends and foes ,
that he had used this influence, in the late trying crisis of the Re-
gency with a judgment and delicacy that proved him worthy of it, —
all these advantages , both brilliant and solid , which subsequent cir-
cumstances but too much tended to weaken , at this moment sur-
rounded him in their newest lustre and promise.
He was just now, too, in the first enjoyment of a feeling , of which
habit must have afterwards dulled the zest, namely, the proud
consciousness of having surmounted the disadvantages of birth and
station , and placed himself on a level with the highest and noblest
of the land. This footing in the society of the great he could only
have attained by parliamentary eminence \ — as a mere writer, with
all his genius , he never would have been thus admitted ad eundem
among them. Talents, in literature or science , unassisted by the ad-
vantages of birth , may lead to association with the great, but rarely
to equality -, — it is a passport through the well-guarded frontier, but
no title to naturalisation within. By him , who has not been born
among them , this can only be achieved by politics. In that arena,
which they look upon as their own , the Legislature of the land , let
a man of genius , like Sheridan , but assert his supremacy — at once
all these barriers of reserve and pride give way, and he takes , by
OF 11. D. SHEIUDATN. $95
slorni , a station at Ihcir side , which a Shakspeare or a Newton
would hut have enjoyed by courtesy.
In lixing upon this period of Sheridan's life , as the most shining
tcra of his talents as well as his fame , it is not meant to be denied
I hat in his subsequent warfare with the Minister, during the stormy
lime of the French Revolution , he exhibited a prowess of oratory
no less suited to that actual service, than his- eloquence on the trial
of Hastings had been to sueh lighter lilts and tournaments of peace.
JJul the effect of his lalents was far less .striking ;— rlhe current of
feeling through England was against him •, — and , however greatly
this added to the merit of his efforts , it deprived him of that echo
from the public heart, by which the voice of the orator is endued
with a sort of multiplied life, and, as it were, survives itself. In
Hie panic , loo, that followed the French Revolution , all eloquence ,
but that from the lips of Power, was disregarded , and the voice of
him at the helm was the only one listened to in the storm.
Of his happiness , at the period of which we are speaking , in the
midst of so much success and hope, there can be but little doubt.
Though pecuniary embarrassment , as appears from his papers , had
already begun to weave its fatal net around him , there was as yet
little more than sufficed to giye exercise to his ingenuity, and the
resources of the Drury-Lanc treasury were still in full nightly llow.
The charms by which his home was embellished were such as few
other homes could boast ; and , if any thing made it less happy than
it ought to be , the cause was to be found in the very brillancy of
his life and attractions , and in those triumphs out of the sphere
of domestic love , to which his vanity, perhaps , oftener than his
feelings, impelled him.
Among his own immediate associates , the gaiety of his spirits
amounted almost to boyishness. He delighted in all sorts of dra-
matic tricks and disguises ; and the lively parties , with which his
country-house was always filled, were kept in momentary expecta-
tion of some new device for their mystification or amusement '. It
was not unusual to despatch a man and horse seven or eight miles
for a piece of crape or a mask , or some other such trifle for these
frolics. His friends Tickell and Richardson , both men of wit and
1 To give some idea of the youthful tone of tlm society, I shall mention onp out
of many anecdotes related to me by persons who had themselves been ornaments
of it. The ladies having one evening received the gentlemen in masquerade dresses,
which, with their obstinate silence, made it impossible to distinguish one from
ilie other, the gentlemen , in their turn, iuviled the ladies, next evening, to a
>iiuil;n trial of conjecture on themselves ; and notice being given that they were
icady dressed , Mrs. Sheridan and her companions were admitted into the dining-
loom, where they found a party of Turks, sitting silent and masked round the
table. Afici a long course of the usual guesses, exclamations , etc. etc,, and each
296 MEMOIRS
humour, and the former possessing the same degree of light animal
spirits as himself, were the constant companions of all his social
hours, and kept up with him that ready rebound of pleasantry,
without which the play of wit languishes.
There is a letter, written one night by Richardson at Tunbridge '.
( after waiting five long hours for Sheridan , ) so full of that mixture
of melancholy and humour, which chequered the mind of this in-
teresting man , that , as illustrative of the character of one of She-
ridan's most intimate friends, it may be inserted here : —
" DE\R SHERIDAN, Half-past nine , Mount Ephraim.
"After you had been gone an hour or Uvo I got moped damnably.
Perhaps there is a sympathy between the corporeal and the mind's eye.
In the Temple I can't see far before me, and seldom extend my specula-
tions on things to come into any fatiguing sketch of reflection. — From
your window, however, there was a tedious scope of black atmosphere,
that I think won my mind into a short of fellow-travellership , pacing
me again through the cheerless waste of the past, and presenting hardly
one little rarified cloud to give a dim ornament to the future; — not a star
to be seen; — no permanent ligbt to gild my horizon ;— only the fading
helps to transient gaiety in the lamps of Tunbridge; —no Law coffee-
house at band , or any other bouse of relief;— no antagonist to bicker
one into a control of one's cares by a successful opposition 5 , nor a softer
enemy to soothe one into an oblivion of them.
lady having taken the arm of the person she was most sure of, they heard a burst
of laughter through the half-open door, and looking there, saw the gentlemen
themselves in their proper persons, — the masks, upon whom they had been
lavishing their sagacity, being no other than the maid-servants of the house , who
had been, thus dressed up to deceive them.
1 In the year 1790, when Mrs. Sheridan was Irving the waters of Tunbridge
for her health. In a letter to Sheridan's sister from this place, dated September,
1790, she says, "I drink the waters ouce-a-day, and ride and drive all the forenoon,
which makes me ravenous when I return. I feel I am in very good health, and I
am told that I am in high beauty, two circumstances which ought and do put me
in high good humour. "
2 Richardson was remarkable for his love of disputation; andTickell, when
hard pressed by him in argument, used often, as a last resource, to assume the
voice and manner of Mr. Fox, which he had the power of mimicking so exactly,
that Richardson confessed he sometimes stood awed and silenced by the resem-
blance.
This disputatious humour of Richardson was once turned to account by Sheri-
dan in a very characteristic manner. Having had a hackney-coac"h in employ fin
five or six hoars, and not being provided with the means of paying it, he happen
ed to espy Richardson in the street, and proposed to take him in the coach some
part of liis way. The offer being accepted, Sheridan lost no liuie'in starting a
subject of conversation , on which b« knew his companion was sure to become
argumentative and animated Having, by well-managed contradiction, brought
him to the proper pitch of- excitement , he affected to.grow impatient and angry ,
himself, and saying that " he could not think of staying in the same coach with
a person that would use such language /'^palled the ctieck string, and desired tint
OF R. B. SHERIDAN. 297
" It is damned foolish, for. ladies to leave their scissors aboot ; — the
frail thread of a. worthless life is soon snipped. I wish to God my fale had
been true to its first destination, and made a parson of me; — I should
have made an excellent country Joll. I think I can, with confidence,
pronounce the character that would have been given of .me :— He was an
indolent good-humoured man , civil *t all times , and hospitable at others,
namely, when he was able to be so , which, truth to say, happened but
seldom. His sermons were better than his preaching, and his doctrine
better than his life; though -often grave, and sometimes melancholy,
he nevertheless loved a joke, — the more so when overtaken in his cups,
which , a regard to the j*aith of history compels us to subjoin , fell out
not untVequently. He had more* thought than was generally imputed to
him , though it must be owned no man alive ever exercised thought to so
little purpose. Rebecca, his wife, the'daughter of an opulent farmer in
the neighbourhood of his small living, brought him eighteen children ;
and he now rests with -those who, being rather not absolutely vicious
than actively good , confide in the bounty of Providence to strike a mild
average between the contending negations of their life, and to allow them
in their future state, what he ordained them in this earthly pilgrimage,
a snug Neutrality and a useless repose. — I had witten thus far , absolutely
determined, under an irresistible influence of the megrims, to set off for
London on foot, when,, accidentally searching for a cardialgic, to my
great delight , I discovered three fugitive sixpences, headed by a vagrant
shilling, immergcd in the heap in my waistcoat pocket. This discovery
gave an immediate elasticity to my mind; and I have therefore devised a
scheme, worthier the improved state of my spirits, namely, to swindle
your servants out of a horse, under the pretence of a ride upon the heath,
and to jog on contentedly homewards. So, under the protection of Pro-
vidence , and the mercy of footpads , I trust we shall meet again , to-mor-
row; at all events, there is nothing huffish in this; for, whether sad or
merry , I am always ,
u Mpst affectionately yours ,
*f J. RICHARDSON."
" P. S. Your return only confirmed me in my resolution of going; for
I had worked myself, in five hours' sojitude, into such a state of nervous
melancholy , that I found I could not help the meanness of crying , even
if any one looked me in the face. I am anxious to avoid a regular convic-
tion of so disreputable an infirmity ;— besides., the night has become quite
pleasant."
Between Tickell and Sheridan there was a never-ending " skir-
mish of wit ," boih verbal and practical \ and the latter kind , in
particular, was carried on between them with all the wqggery, and ,
not unfrequenlly, the malice of School-boys '. Tickell, much less
ooacbinuu to let him our. Richardson, wholly occupied with the argument, and
Hoarding the retreat of his opponent as an acknowledgment of defeat, still pressed
liis point, and even hollowed "more last words" through the coach-window after
Sheridan, who, walking quietly home , left the poor disputant responsible for
the heavy fare of the coach.
1 On one occasion, Sheridan having covered the floor of a dark passage, lead-
298 MEMOIRS
occupied by business lhan his friend, had always some political jcux
$ esprit on the anvil ; and sometimes these trifles were produced by
them jointly. The following string of pasquinades , so well known
in political circles , and written , as the reader will perceive, at dif-
ferent dates, though principally by Sheridan, owes some of its
stanzas to Tickcll , and a few others, I believe, to Lord John Towns-
hond. I have strung together, without regard to chronology, the
best of these detached lampoons. Time having removed their ve-
nom , and with it , in a great degree , 'their wit y they are now,
like dried snakes , mere harmless objects of curiosity.
« Johnny W— Iks, Johnny W— Iks ',
Thou greatest of bilks ,
How chaug'cl are the notes you now sing !
Your fam'd Forty-five
Is Prerogative ,
And your blasphemy, « God save the Kiug ,'
Johnny W— Iks ,
And your blasphemy, 'God save the King.' "
" Jack Ch— ch— 11, Jack Cli— ch— 11 ,
The town sure you search ill ,
Your mob lias disgraced all your brags ;
When next you draw out
Your hospital rout ,
Do , prithee , afford them clean rags ,
Jack Ch— ch — II ,
Do , prithee , afford them cleau rags."
" Captain K — th , Captain K — th ,
Keep your tongue 'twist your teeth ,
Lest bed-chamber tricks you betray :
And, if teeth you want more,
Why , my bold Commodore,
You may borrow of Lord G — 11 — y,
Captain K — th ,
You may borrow of Lord G — 11 — y."
ing from the drawing-room, with all the plates and dishes of ibe house, ranged
closely together, provoked his 'unconscious play-fellow to pursue him into (he
midst of them. Having left a path for his own escape, he passed through easily,
but Tickell, falling at full length into the ambuscade, was very much cat in seve-
ral places. The next day, Lord John Townshend, on paying a visit to the bed -side
of Tickell, found him covered over with patches, and indignantly vowing ven-
geance against Sheridan for this unjustifiable trick. In the midst of his angei,
however, he could not help exclaiming, with the true feeling of an amateur of this
sort of mischief , "bnthow amazingly well done.it was!"
1 In Sheridan's copy of the stanzas written by him in this metre at the lime ot
the Union , ( beginning " Zooks , Harry ! zooks , Harry ! '*) he entitled them , " Au
admirable new Ballad , which goes excellently well to the tune of
" Mrs Arne , Mrs. Arjie ,
\\ gives me consn/vi," etc.
OE R. B. SHERIDAN. 299
" ' Joe M— wb— y, Joe M— wb— y,
Your throat sure must raw be,
lu striving to make yourself heard ;
But it pleased not the pigs ,
Nor the Westminster Whigs , .
That your Knighthood should ulter oue word ,
Joe M— wb — y ,
That your Knighthood should utter one word,"
" M — ntm — res, M— ntm — res,
Whom nobody for is ,
Andybr whom we none of us care 5
From Dublin you came —
It had been much the same
If Your Lordship had staid where you were ,
M; — ntm — res ,
If Your Lordship had staid where you were.1"
" Lord O— gl— y, Lord O— gl— y,
You spoke mighty strongly —
Who you are, tho', all people admire!
But I'll let you depart ,
For I believe in my heart,
You had rather they did not enquire, »
Lord 0-gl— y,
You had rather :hey did not enquire. "
"Gl— nb— e, Gl-nb— e,
What's good for the' scurvy ?
For ne'er be your old trade forgot—
lu your arms rather quarter
A pestle and mortar,
And your crest be a spruce gallipot ,
Gl— ub-e,
Your crest be a spruce gallipot."
« Gl— nb— «, Gl— nb-e,
The world's topsy-turvy,
Of this truth you're the fittest attester ;
For, who can deny
That the Low become High,
When the King makes a Lord of Silvester,
Gl— nb— e,
When the King makes a Lord of Silvester."
"Mr. P— l,Mr. P—l,
lu return for your zeal ,
I am told they have dubb'd you Sir Bob ;
Having got wealth enough
By coarse Manchester Muff,
For honours you'll now drive a job ,
Mr. P—l,
For honours you'll now drive a job."
I IMS stanza and, I rather iliiuL. the next, were by Lent John Townshcncl
300 MEMOIRS
" Oh poor B — ks , oh poor B— ks,
Still condemu'd to the rauks,
Nor e'en yet from a private promoted ;
Pitt ne'er will releut,
Though he knows you^repeut
Having once or twice honestly voted ,
Poor B — ks ,
Having once or twice honestly voted."
- " Dull H— 1-y, dull H— 1— y,
Your auditors feel ye
A speaker of very great weight ,
And they wisli you were dumb ,
When , with ponderous hum ,
You lengthen the drowsy debate ,
Dull H-l— y,
You lengthen the drowsy debate."
There are about as many more of these stanzas , written , at dif-
ferent intervals , according as new victims , with good names for
rhyming , presented themselves , — the metre being a most tempting
medium for such lampoons. There is , indeed , appended to one of
Sheridan's copies of them , a long list (like a Tablet of Proscription) ,
containing about fifteen other names marked out for the same fate ;
and il will be seen by the following specimen that some of them had
a very narrow escape :
"WillC— rt—s "
" V — ns — t— t, V — ns— t— t , — for little thou fit art."
" Will D— nd— s , Will D— ud— s ,— were jou only an ass."
" L— glib — h,— thorough."
il Sam H — rsl— y, Sam H — rsl — y, . . . coarsely."
" P — ttym — u, P — ttym, — n, — speak truth, if you can."
But it was not alone for such lively purposes * that Sheridan and
his two friends drew upon their joint wits $ they had also but too
' As I have been mentioning some instances of Sheridan's love of practical
jests, I shall take this opportunity of adding one more anecdote, which I believe
is pretty well known, but which I have had the advantage of hearing from the
person on whom the joke was inflicted.
The Rev. Mr. O'B (afterwards Bishop of ) having arrived to dinner at
Sheridan's cotintry-honse near Osterley, where, as usual, a gay party was col-
lected, (consisting of General Burgoyne , Mrs. Crewe, Tickell, etc.) it was pro-
posed that on the next day (Sunday) the Rev. Gentleman should, on gaining the
consent of the resident clergyman, give a specimen of his talents as a preacher in
the village-church. On his objecting that he was not provided with a sermon, his
host offered to write one for him , if he wonld consent to preach it j and , the offer
being accepted, Sheridan left the company early, and did not return for the re-
mainder of the evening. The following morning Mr. O'B found the manuscript
by his bed-side, tied together neatly (as he described it) with riband; — the snb-
ject of the discourse being the " Abuse of Riches." Having read it over and correct-
ed some theological errors , (such as " it is easier for a camel , as Moses says ," etc.)
OF R. B. SHERIDAN. 301
much to do with subjects of a far different nature — wilh dcbls,
bonds, judgments, writs, and all those other humiliating mailers
of fact, (hat bring Law and Wit so often and so unnaturally in contact.
That they were serviceable to each other, in their defensive alliance
against duns, is fully proved by various documents; and I have
now before me articles of agreement, dated in 1787, Jay which
Tickeli , to avert an execution from Ihe Theatre , bound himself as
security for Sheridan in the sum of 2507. , — the arrears of an annuity
charged upon Sheridan's moiety of the.property. So soon did Ihose
pecuniary difficulties , by which his peace and character were after-
wards undermined , begin their operations.
Yet even into transactions of this nature, little as they are akin to
mirth, the following letter of Richardson will show that these
brother wits contrived to infuse a portion of gaiety : —
" DEAR SHERIDAN , • • ,,, Essex-Street, Saturday evening.
" I had a terrible long batch With Bobby this morning, after I wrote
to you by Francois. I have so far succeeded lhat'he has agreed to con-
tinue the day of trial as we call it (that is, in vulgar , unlearned language,
id put it off), from Tuesday till Saturday. He demands, as preliminaries,
that Wright's bill of doo/. should lie given up to him, as a prosecution
had been commenced against him, wbich, however, be has stopped by
an iaj unction from the Court of Chanceiy. This , if the transaction be as
be states it, appears reasonable enough. He. insists, besides, that the bill
should undergo the most rigid examination; that you should transmit
your objections, to which be will send answers (for the point of a per-
sonal interview has not been yet carried) , and that the -\vhole amount at
last, whatever it may be , should have your clear and satisfied approba-
tion : — nothing to be done without this— almighty. honour !
" All these things being done, I desired to know what was to be the
result at last : — ' Surely •, after having carried so many points, you will
think it only common depency to relax a little as to the time of payment ?
You will not cut your pound of flesh the nearest from the merchant's
heart?' To this Bobides, " I must have 2ooo£. put in a sbape of practi-
cable use , and payment immediately ;• — tpr the rest I will accept security,'
be delivered the sermon in his most impressive stylej iiuu-li fb the delight of his
own party, and to the satisfaction, as te unsuspectingly flattered himself, of all
the rest of the congregation, among whom was Mr. Sheridan's wealthy neigh-
bour, Mr. C .
Some months afterwards, however, Mr. O'B perceived That the family of
Mr. C , with whom he had previously been intimate, treated him wilh mark-
ed coldness ; and, on bis expressing some innocent wonder at the circumstance,
was it length informed, to his dismay, by General Bargoyne, that the serinou
which Sheridan had. written for him was, throughout, a personal attack upon
Mr. C , who had at tbat lime rendered himself very unpopular in the ueigh-
hoiirho&i by some harsh conduct to the poor, and to whom every one in the
rlimrh, except the unconscions preacher, applied almost every sentence of the
302 MEMOIRS
This was strongly objected to i)y me , as Jewish in the extreme ; but ,
however, so we parted. You will think with me , I hope, that something
has been done, however, by this meeting. It has opened an access to a
favourable adjustment, and time andtristmay do much. I am to see him
again on Monday moming" at two, so pray don't go out of town to-mor-
row without my seeing you. The matter is of immense consequence. I
never knew till to-day that the process had been going on so long. I am
convinced he could force you to trial next Tuesday— with all your infir-
mities green upon your head ; so pray attend to k.
" R. B. Sheridan, Esq. "Yours ever,
"Lower Grosvenor-Street. " J. RICHARDSON."
This letter was written in the year 1792, when Sheridan's involve-
ments had begun to thicken around him more rapidly. There is
another letter, about the same dale , still more characteristic , —
where , after beginning in evident anger and distress of mind , the
writer breaks off, as if irresistibly, into the old strain of playfulness
and good humour.
" DEAR SHERIDAN , Wednesday , Essex-Street, July 3o.
" I write to you with more unpleasant feelings than I ever did in my
life. Westly, after having told me for the last three weeks that nothing
was wanting for my accommodation but your consent, having told me
so, so late as Friday, sends me word on Monday that he would not do it
at all. In four days I have a cognovit expires for -tool. I can't suffer my
family to be turned into the streets if 1 can help it. I have no resource
but my abilities, such as they are. I certainly mean to write something
in the course of the summer. As a matter of business and bargain I can
have no higher hope about it than that you won't suffer by it. However,
if you won't take it somebody else must, for no human consideration will
induce me to leave any means .untried, that may rescue my family from
this impending misfortune.
" For the sake of convenience you will probably give me the import-
ance of construing this into an incendiary letter. I wish to God you may,
and order your treasurer to deposit the acceptance accordingly ; for
nothing can be so irksome to me as that the nations of the earth should
think there had been any interruption of friendship between you and me;
and though that would not be the case in fact, both being influenced, I
must believe, by a necessity which we could not control, yet the said
nations would so interpret it. If I don't hear from you before Friday, 1
shall conclude tViat you leave me in this dire scrape to shift for myself.
" /?. B. Sheridan, Esq. , " Yours ever ,
" Isleworth, Middlesex. " J. RICHARDSON."
OF R. B. SHERIDAN. 303
CHAPTER XIV.
French Revolution.— Mr. Burke.— His Breach with Mr. Sheridan.—
Dissolution of Parliament. — Mr. Burke and Mr. Fox. — Russian arma-
ment.— Royal Scotch boroughs.
WE have now to consider the conduct and opinions of Mr. She-
ridan , during the. measures and discussions consequent upon the
French Revolution, — an event by which the minds of men throughout
all Europe were thrown into a slate of such feverish excitement, that
a more than usual degree of tolerance should be exercised towards
the errors and extremes into which all parties were hurried during
the paroxysm. There was , indeed , no rank or class of society,
whose interests and passions were not deeply involved in the question.
The powerful and the rich , both of State and Church , must natu-
rally have regarded with dismay the advance of a political heresy,
whose path they saw strewed over with the broken talismans of rank
and authority. Many, loo , with a disinterested reverence for ancient
institutions, trembled to see them thus approached by rash hands,
whose talents for ruin were sufficiently certain, bul whose powers
of reconstruction were yet to be tried. On the other hand , the easy
triumph of a people over Ihcir oppressors was an example which could
not fail to excite the hopes of the many as actively as the fears of
the few. The great problem of the natural rights of mankind seemed
about to be solved in a manner most flattering to the majority ; — the
zeal of the lover of liberty was kindled into enthusiasm , by a con-
quest achieved for his cause upon an arena so vast , and many, who
before would have smiled at the doctrine of human perfectibility,
now imagined they saw , in what the Revolution performed and pro-
mised , almost enough to sanction the indulgence of that splendid
dream. It was natural, too, that the greater portion of that unemploy-
ed, and, as it were, homeless talent, which, in all great communities,
is ever abroad on the wing , uncertain where to settle , should now
swarm round the light of the new principles , — while all those ob-
scure but ambitious spirits , who felt their aspirings clogged by the
medium in which they were sunk, would as naturally welcome
such a slate of political effervescence , as might enable them , like
enfranchised air, to mount at once to the surface.
Amidst all these various interests , imaginations, and fears, which
were brought to life by the dawn of the French Revolution , it is
not surprising that errors and excesses, both of conduct and opinion,
should be among the first products of so new and sudden a move-
ment of the whole civilized world ; — that the friends of popular
i ighls , presuming upon the triumph that had been gained , should ,
304 MEMOIRS
in the ardour of pursuit , push on the vanguard of their principles ,
somewhat farther than was consistent with prudence and safely ; or
that , on the other side , Authority and its supporters , alarmed by
the inroads of the revolutionary spirit , should but the more stub-
bornly intrench themselves in established abuses , and make the
dangers they apprehended from liberty a pretext for assailing its
very existence.
It was not long before these effects of the French Revolution
began to show themselves very strikingly in the politics of England ;
and , singularly enough , the two extreme opinions , to which , as I
have just remarked , that disturbing event.gave rise , instead of first
appearing , as might naturally be expected , the one on the side of
Government , and the other on that of the Opposition , both broke
out simultaneously 'in the very heart of the latter body.
On such an imagination as that of Burke , the scenes now passing
in France were every way calculated to make a most vivid impres-
sion. So susceptible was he, indeed , of such impulses, and so much
under the control of the imaginative department of his intellect ,
that , whatever might have been the accidental mood of his mind ,
at the moment when this astounding event first burst upon him , it
would most probably have acted as a sort of mental catalepsy, and
fixed his reason in the very attitude in which it found it. He had ,
however, been prepared for the part which he now took by much
more deep and grounded causes. It was rather from circumstances
than from choice , or any natural affinity, that Mr. Burke had ever
attached himself to the popular party in politics. There was , in
truth , nothing democratic about him but his origin ; — his tastes
were all on the side of the splendid and the arbitrary. The chief
recommendation of the cause of India to his fancy and his feelings
was that it involved the fate of antienl dynasties , and invoked retri-
bution for the downfall of thrones and princedoms , to which his
imagination , always most affected by objects at a distance , lent a
slate and splendour thai did not , in sober reality, belong to them.
Though doomed to make Whiggism his habitual haunt . he took
his perch at all times on its loftiest branches , as far as possible away
from popular conlacl ; and upon mosl occasions , adopted a sort of
baronial view of liberty, as rather a question lying between the
Throne and the Aristocracy, than one in which the people had a
right to any efficient voice or agency. Accordingly, the question of
Parliamentary Reform , from the first moment of its agitation . found
in him a most decided opponent.
This inherent repugnance to popular principles became naturally
heightened into impatience and disgust , by the long and fruitless
warfare which he had waged under their banner, and the uniform
OF R. B. SHERIDAN. ,103
ill success wilh which they had blasted all his struggles for wealth
and power. Nor wa6 he in any better temper wilh his associates
in the cause , — having found that the ascendancy which , he
had formerly: exercised over them, and which, in some degree,
consoled him for the want of official dominion, was of late conside-
rably diminished, if-not wholly transferred 16 others. Sheridan, as
has been statedj, was the most prominent object of his jealousy •, —
and it is curious to remark how much , even in feelings of this des-
rriplion , the aristocratical bias of his mind betrayed itself. For,
though Mr. Fox, too, had- overtaken and 'even passed him, in the
race , assuming that station in politics which he himself had pre-
viously held , yet so paramount did those claims of birth and con-
nection , by which the new leader came recommended , appear in
his eyes, that he submitted to be superseded by him, not only
without a murmur, but cheerfully. To Sheridan , however, who had
no such hereditary passport to pre-eminence , he could not give
way without heart-burning and humiliation ; and to be supplanted
!hus by a rival son of earth seemed no* less a shock to his supersti-
tious notions about rank , than it was painful to his feelings of self-
love and pride.
Such , as far as can be ascertained by a distanlobserver of those
times, was the temper in which the first events of the Revolution
found the rnind of this remarkable man-,— and, powerfully as they
would , at any time , have appealed to his imagination and preju-
dices , the state of irritability to which he had been wrought by the
causes already enumerated peculiarly predisposed him , at this mo-
ment , to give way to such impressions without'reslraint , and even
to welcome , as a timely relief to his pride , the mighty vent thus
afforded to the " splendida bills" with which it was charged.
There was indeed much to animate and give a zest to the new
part which he now took. He saw those principles, to which he owed
a deep grudge, for the time and the talents he had wasted in their
service, now embodied in a shape so wild and alarming, as seemed
to justify him , on grounds of public safety, in turning against them
the whole powers of his mind, and thus enabled him, opportunely,
to dignify desertion , by throwing the semblance of patriotism and
conscientiousness round the reality of defection and revenge. He
saw the party, too, who, from the moment they had ceased to be
ruled by him , were associated only in his mind with recollec-
tions of unpopularity and defeat , about to adopt a line of politics
uliidi his long knowledge of the people of England , and his saga-
nous foresight of the consequences of the French Revolution , fully
••onviuccd him would lead to the same barren and mortifying results.
On the contrary, the cause to which ho proffered his alliance <
20
306 MEMOIRS
would, he was equally sure, by arraying on its side all the rank,
riches , and religion of Europe , enable him at length to feel that
sense of power and triumph , for which his domineering spirit had
so long panted in vain. In this latter hope, indeed, of a speedy
triumph over Jacobinism, his temperament , as was often the case ,
outran his sagacity ; for , while he foresaw clearly that the dissolu-
tion of social order in France would at last harden into a military
tyranny, he appeared not to be aware that the violent measures
which he recommended against her would not only hasten this for-
midable result , but bind the whole mass of the people into union
and resistance during the process.
Lastly — to these attractions , of various kinds , with which the
cause of Thrones was now encircled in the eyes of Burke , must be
added one, which, however it may still further disenchant our
views of his conversion , cannot wholly be omitted among the in-
ducements to his change, — and this was the strong claim upon
the gratitude of government, which his seasonable and powerful
advocacy in a crisis so difficult established for him , and which the
narrow and embarrassed state of his circumstances rendered an
object by no means of secondary importance in his views. Unfor-
tunately,—from a delicate wish, perhaps, that the reward should
not appear to come in loo close coincidence with the service, — the
pension bestowed upon him arrived too late to admit of his. deriving
much more from it than the obloquy by which it was accompanied.
The consequence , as is well known, of the new course taken by
Burke was that the speeches and writings which he henceforward
produced , and in which , as usual , his judgment was run away
with by his temper, form a complete contrast , in spirit and tendency,
to all that he had put on record in the former part of his life. He
has , indeed , left behind him two separate and distinct armouries
of opinion , from which both Whig and Tory may furnish them-
selves with weapons, the most splendid , if not the most highly tem-
pered , that ever Genius and Eloquence have condescended to
bequeath to Party. He has thus too , by his own personal versatility,
attained , in the world of politics , what Shakspeare , by the versa-
tility of his characters, achieved for the world in general , — namely,
sqch a universality of application to all opinions and purposes, that
it would be difficult for any statesman of any party to find himself
placed in any situation , for which he could not select some golden
sentence from Burke , either to strengthen his position by reasoning,
or illustrate and adorn it by fancy. While, therefore, our respect
for the man himself is diminished by this want of moral identity
observable through his life and writings, we are but the more dis-
posed to admire that unrivalled genius, which could thus throw
OF R. B. SHERIDAN. 307
itself out in so many various directions with equal splendour and
vigour. In general, political deserters lose their value and power in
the very act , and bring little more than their treason to the new
cause which they espouse :~-
:l " Fortis in armis
Gesaris Labienus erat ; nunc transfuga <vilis.n
But Burke was mighty in either camp ; and it would have taken
two great men to effect what he , by this division of himself,
achieved. His mind, indeed, lies parted asunder in his works, like
some vast continent severed by a convulsion tof nature, — each por-
tion peopled by its own giant race of opinions , differing altogether
in features and language , and committed in eternal hostility with
each other.
It was during the discussions on the Army estimates, at the com-
mencement of the Session of 1790, that the difference between
Mr. Burke and his party in their views of the French Revolution
first manifested itself. Mr. Fox having taken occasion to praise the
late conduct of the French Guards in refusing to obey the dictates
of the Court, and having declared that he exulted, "both from
feelings and from principles," in the political change that had been
brought about in that country, Mr. Burke, in answering him, en-
tered fully and , it must be owned , most luminously into the ques-
tion,— expressing his apprehension lest' the example of France,
which had, at a former period , threatened England with the conta-
gion of despotism , should now be the means of introducing among
her people the no less fatal taint of democracy and atheism. After
some cloquenMributes of admiration to Mr." Fox , rendered more
animated, perhaps , by the consciousness that they were the last of-
ferings thrown into the open grave of their friendship, he proceeded
to deprecate the effects which the language of his Right Honourable
Friend might have , in appearing to countenance the disposition
observable among " some wicked persons" to " recommend an
imitation of the French spirit of -Reform, and then added a decla-
ration , equally remarkable for the insidious charge which it im-
plied against his own party , and the notice of his approaching
desertion which it conveyed to the. other,— that " so strongly op-
posed was he to any the least tendency towards the means of intro-
ducing a democracy like that of the French , as well as to the end
ilself , that , much as it would afflict him , if such a thing should be
attempted , and that any friend of his could concur in such measures
(lie was far, very far from believing they could), he would abandon
liis best friends , and join with his worst enemies to oppose either the
means or the end."
308 MEMOIRS
It is pretty evident , from these words , thai Hurke had already
made up his mind as to the course he should pursue , and but de-
layed his declaration of a total breach , in order to prepare the minds
of the public for such an event , and , by waiting to take advantage
of sonic moment of provocation , make the intemperance of others
responsible for his own deliberate schism. The reply of Mr. Fox
was not such as could afford this opportunity •, — it was , on the con-
trary , full of candour and moderation, and repelled the implied
charge of being a favourer of the new doctrines of France in tin*
most decided , but at the same time, most conciliatory terms.
" Did such a declaration," lie asked, "warrant the idea that he \vas
a friend to Democracy? He declared himself equally the enemy of all
absolute forms of government, whether an absolute Monarchy, an absolute
Aristocracy , or an absolute Democracy He \vas adverse to all extremes,
and a friend only to a mixed government like our own, in which, if the
Aristocracy, or indeed either of the three branches of the Constitution,
were destroyed , the good effect of the whole and the happiness derived
under it would, in his mind, be at an end."
In returning, too, the praises bestowed upon him by his friend ,
he made the following memorable and noble acknowledgment of all
that he himself had gained by their intercourse : —
"• Such (he said) washis sense of the judgment of his Right Honourable
Friend, such his knowledge of his principles, such the value which be
set uj.on them, and such the estimation in which beheld his friendship,
that if he were to put all the political information which be had learned
from books, all which he had gained from science, and all which any
knowledge of the world and its affairs bad taught him, into one scale,
and the improvement which he had derived from his Right Honourable
Friend's instruction and conversation were placed in the other ,' he
should be at a loss to decide to which to give the preference."
This , from a person so rich in acquirements as Mr. Fox , was
the very highest praise , — rior, except in what related to the judg-
ment and principles of his friend, was it at all exaggerated. The
conversation of liurkc must have been like the procession of a
Roman triumph , exhibiting power and riches at every slop — occa-
sionally, perhaps , mingling the low Fescennine jest with the lofty
music of its march , but glittering all over with the spoils of the
whole ransacked world.
Mr. tturkc in reply, after reiterating his praises of Mr. Fox , and
the full confidence which he felt in his moderation and sagacity,
professed himself perfectly satisfied \vilh the explanations that had
been given. The conversation would thus have passed off without
any explosion , had not Sheridan , who was well aware lhat against
him . in particular, the charge of a tendency to the adoption of
OF R. B. SHKK1DAN. 300
French principles was directed , risen immediately after, and by a
speech warmly in favour of the Revolution and of the National
Assembly, at once lighted the train in the mind of Burke, and
brought the question, as far as regarded themselves , to an imme-
diate issue.
"He differed," he said, "decidedly, from his Right .Honourable
Friend in almost every word that he had uttered respecting the French
Revolution. He conceived it to be as just a Revolution as ours , proceed-
ing upon as sound a principle and as just a provocation. He vehemently
defended the general views and conduct of the National Assembly. He
could not even understand what was meant by the charges against them
of having overturned the lavfs , the justice , and the revenues of their
country. What were their laws ?. the arbitrary mandates of capricious
despotism. What their justice ? the partial adjudications of venal magis-
trates. What their revenue? national bankruptcy. This he thought the
fundamental error of his Right Honourable Friend's argument , that he
accused the National Assembly of creating the evils , which they had
found existing in full deformity at the first hour of their meeting. The
public creditor had been defrauded; the manufacturer was without
employ; trade was languishing ; famine clung upon the poor ; despair ou
all. In this situation , the wisdom and feelings of the nation were appealed
to by the government; and was it to be wondered at by Englishmen,
that a people , so circumstanced , should search for the cause and source
of all their calamities; or that they should find them in the arbitrary con-
stitution of their government , and in the prodigal and corrupt ad-
ministration of their revenues ? For such an evil, when proved, what
remedy could be resorted to , but a radical amendment of the. frame and
fabric of the Constitution itself? This change was not the object and wish
of the National Assembly only; it was the claim and cry of all France ,
united as one man for one purpose."
All this is just and unanswerable — as indeed was the greater part
of the sentiments which he uttered. But -he seems to have failed ,
even more signally than Mr. Fox , in endeavouring to invalidate
the masterly view which Burke had just taken of the Revolution of
1688 , as compared; in its means and object, with that of France.
There was , in truth , but little similarity between them ,— the task
of the former being to preserve liberty, that of the latter to destroy
tyranny ; the one being a regulated movement of the Aristocracy
against the Throne for the Nation > the other a tumultuous rising
of the whole Nation against both for itself.
The reply of Mr. Burke was conclusive and peremptory,'— such
in short , as might be expected from a person, who- came prepared
to take the first plausible opportunity of a rupture. He declared
that " henceforth His Honourable Friend and he were separated
in politics /'—complained that his arguments had been cruelly
misrepresented, and abut k' the Honourable Gentleman had thought
310 MEMOIRS
proper to charge him with being the advocate of despotism. " Having
endeavoured to defend himself from such an imputation , he con-
cluded by saying, —
" Was that a fair and candid mode of treating his arguments? or was
it what he ought to have expected in the moment of departed friendship ?
On the contrary, was it not evident that the Honourable Gentleman had
made a sacrifice of his friendship, for the sake of catching some momen-
tary popularity? If the fact were such, even greatly as he should continue
to admire the Honourable Gentleman's talents , he must tell him that his
argument was chiefly an argument ad itividiam , and all the applause for
which he could hope from clubs was scarcely worth the sacrifice which
he had chosen to make for so insignificant'an acquisition."
I have given the circumstances of this Debate somewhat in detail,
not only on account of its own interest and of the share which
Mr. Sheridan took in it , but from its being the first scene of that
great political schism which , in the following year, assumed a still
more serious aspect , and by which the policy of Mr. Pitt at length
acquired a predominance , not speedily to be forgotten in the annals
of this country.
Mr. Sheridan was much blamed for the unseasonable stimulant
which , it was thought , his speech on this occasion had adminis-
tered to the temper of Burke ; nor can it be doubted that he had
thereby, in some degree accelerated the public burst of that feeling
which had so long been treasured up against himself. But , whether
hastened or delayed , such a breach was ultimately inevitable ; the
divergence of the parties once begun, it was in vain to think
of restoring their parallelism. That some of their friends, how-
ever, had more sanguine hopes appears from an effort which was
made , w ithin two days after the occurrence of this remarkable
scene, to effect a reconciliation between Burke and Sheridan. The
interview that took place on that- occasion is thus described by
Mr. Dennis O'Brien , one of the pqrsons chiefly instrumental in the
arrangements for it : —
" It appeared to the author of this pamphlet ' that the difference
between these two great men would be a great evil to the country and
to their own* party. Full of this persuasion he brought them both toge-
ther the second night after the original contest in the House of Com-
mons ; and carried them to Burlington House to Mr. Fox and the Duke
of Portland , according to a previous arrangement. This interview,
which can never, be forgotten by those who were present, lasted from
ten o'clock at night until three in the morning, and afforded a very
remarkable display of the extraordinary talents of the parties."
It will easily be believed that to the success of this conciliatory
' Entitled " Utrain Hornm."
OF R. B. SHERIDAN. 31 1
effort the temper on one side would be a greater obstacle than
even the hale on both. IMr. Sheridan , as if anxious to repel from
himself the suspicion of having contributed to its failure , look an
opportunity, during his speech upon the Tobacco Act , in the month
of April following , to express himself in the most friendly terms
of Mr. Burke as " one, for whose talents and personal virtae he
had the highest esteem, veneration, and- regard , and with whom
he might be allowed to differ in opinion upon the subject of France,
persuaded as he was that they never could differ in principle." Of
this and some other compliments of a similar nature , Mr. Burke
did not deign to take the slightest notice — partly, from an impla-
cable feeling towards him who offered them , and partly, perhaps ,
from a suspicion that they were intended rather for the ears of the
public than his own , and that , while this tendency to conciliation
appeared on the surface, the under-current of feeling and influence
set all the other way.
Among the measures which engaged the attention of Mr. Sheri-
dan during this session , the principal was a motion of his own for
the repeal of the Excise Duties on Tobacco , which appears to have
called forth a more than usual portioi) of his oratory, — his speeches
upon the subject occupying nearly forty pages. It is upon topics of
this unpromising kind , and from the very effort , perhaps1 , to dig-
nify and enliven them , that the peculiar characteristics of an orator
are sometimes most racily brought out. To the Cider Tax we are
indebted foj one of Ike grandest bursts of the constitutional spirit
and eloquence of Lord Chatham ; and in these orations of Sheridan
upon Tobacco , we find examples of the two extreme varieties of
his dramatic talent— both of the broad, natural humour of his
farce , and the pointed , artificial wit of his comedy. For instance ,
in representing,, as one of the abuses thai might arise from the
discretionary power of remitting fines to manufacturers , the dan-
ger that those only should fpel the indulgence', who wore found to
be supporters of the rusting administration ', be says :— ;
'* Were a man , whose stock had increased or diminished beyond the
standard table in the Act, to attend the- Commissioners, and assure them
that the weather alone had caused, the increase or decrease of the article,
and that no fraud whatever had been used on the occasion, the Com-
missioners might say to him , ' Sir, you need not give yourself so much
trouble to prove your innocence ; — we see honesty in your orange cape.'
But should a person of quite a different side in politics attend for the
-.mil- purpose, the Commissioners might say, 'Sir, you are not to be
Ix-lii-ved ; we see fraud in your blue ami bull', ami il is impossible that
vou should not be a smuggler.' "
1 A case of this kind forim-il the subject of a suited speech of Mr. \VindliMii ,
iu ITOJ.^See his Speeches, vol. I p. 907.
812 MEMOIRS
Again., in staling Ihe case between the manufacturers and the
Minister, the former of whom objected to the Hill altogether, while
the latter determined to preserve its principle and only alter its form,
he says : —
" The manufacturers ask the Right Honourable Gentleman , if he will
consent to give up the principle? The Right Honourable Gentleman
answers, 'No; the principle 'must not be abandoned, but do you inform
me how I shall alter the Bill.' This the manufacturers refused ; and they
wisely refused it in his opinion : for, what was it but the Minister's saying,
'1 have a yoke to put about your necks,— do you help me in fitting it on
— only assist me with your knowledge of the subject , and I'll fit you
with the prettiest pair of fetters that ever were seen in the world.' "
As a specimen of his quaint and far sought witticisms, the follow-
ing passage in the same speech may vie with Trip's " Post-Obit on
the blue and silver, etc."— Having described the effects of the wea-
ther in increasing or decreasing the weight of the stock, beyond the
exact standard established in the Act , he adds ,
" The Commissioners, before they could, in justice, levy such fines,
ought to ascertain that the weather is always in that precise slate of heal
or cold which the Act supposed it would be. They ought to make Christ-
mas give security for frost, take a bond for hot weather from August, and
oblige damps and fogs to take out permits."
It was in one of these speeches on the Tobacco Act , that he ad-
verted with considerable warmth to a rumour, which, he complained
had been maliciously circulated , of a misunderstanding between
himself and the Duke of Portland, in consequence (as the Re'port
expresses it j of " a certain opposition affirmed to have been made
by this Noble Duke, to some views or expectations which he
(Mr. Sheridan) was said to have entertained.'' After declaring that
" there was not in these rumours one grain of thruth," he added
that—
"• He would not venture to state to the Committee the opinion that the
Noble Duke was pleased to entertain of him , lest he should 1x3 accused
of vanity in publishing what he might deem highly flattering. All that
he would assert on this occasion was , that if he had it in his pouer to
make the man whose good opinion he should most highly prize think
flatteringly of him, he would have that man think of him precisely as
the Noble Duke did, and then his wish on that subject would be must
amply gratified."
As it is certain , that the feelings which Burke entertained towards
Sheridan were in some degree shared by alt those who afterwards
seceded from the party, this boast of the high opinion of the Duke
of Portland must be takeiif ilh what, in Heraldry , is called ./bate-
ment — that is, a certain degree of diminution of the emblazonry..
OF R. B- SHERIDAN. 313
Among the papers of Mr. Sheridan, I find a letter addressed to him
this year by one of his most distinguished friends . relative to the
motions that had lately been brought forward for the relief of the
Dissenters. The writer, whose alarm for the interest of the Church
had somewhat disturbed his sense of liberality and justice, endea-
vours to impress upon Mr. Sheridan , arid through him upon Mr.
Fox , how undeserving the Dissenters were , as a political body , of
the recent exertions on their behalf, and how ungratefully they
had more than once requited the services which the Whigs had
rendered them. For this latter charge there was but too much foun-
dation in truth, however ungenerous might be the deduction which
the writer would draw from it. It is, no doubt, natural that large
bodies of men, impatiently suffering under the ban of disqualification,
should avay themselves , without much regard to persons or party,
of every aid they can muster for their cause. , and should (to use the
words of an old Earl of Pembroke) " lean on both sides of the stairs
to get up." But , it is equally natural that the occasional desertion
and ingratitude, of which, in pursuit- of this selfish policy they are
but too likely to be guilty towards their best friends , should, if not
wholly indispose the latter to their service , at least considerably
moderate their zeal in a cause , where all parties alike seem to be
considered but as instruments , and where neither personal predi-
lections jior principle are regarded in the choice of means. To the
great credit, however, of the Whig parly, it must be said, that,
though ofteit set aside and even disowned by their clients , they have
rarely suffered their high duty , as advocates , to be relaxed or inter-
rupted by such momentary suspensions of confidence. In this res-
pect, the cause of Ireland has more than once been a trial of their
constancy. Even Lord North was able , by his reluctant concessions,
to supersede them for a time in the favour of my too believing
countrymen , — whose despair of finding justice at any hands has
often led them thus to carry their confidence to market , and to
place it in the hands of the first plausible bidder. The many vicissi-
tudes of popularity which their own illustrious Whig , Grattan , had
to encounter , would have wearied out the ardour of any less magna-
nimous champion. But high minds are as little affected by such un-
worthy returns for services , as the sun is by those fogs which the
earth throws up between herself and his light:
With respect to the Dissenters , they had deserted Mr. Fox in 1m
great struggle with the Crown in 1784, and laid their interest and
ii»pt's at the feet of the new idol of the day. Notwithstanding this,
\*e find him , in the year 1787 , warmly maintaining , and in oppo-
sition to his rival , the cause of the very persons who had contributed
in make that rival triumphant, — and showing just so much r.eincm
314 MEMOIRS
brancc of their late defection as served lo render this sacrifice of
personal to public feelings more signal. " He was' determined," he
said, " to let them know that, though they could upon some occa-
sions lose sight of their principles of liberty , he would not upon any
occasion lose sight of his principles of toleration." In the present
session , too , notwithstanding that the great organ of I lie Dissenters,
Dr. Price, had lately in a sermon, published with a view to the
Test, made a pointed attack on the morals of Mr. Fox and his friends,
this generous advocate of religious liberty not the less promptly
acceded to the request of the body , tliat he would bring the motion
for their relief before the House.
On the 12lh of June, the Parliament was dissolved, — and Mr.
Sheridan again succeeded in being elected for Stafford. The follow-
ing letters, however, addressed to him by Mrs. Sheridan during
the election , will prove that they were not without some apprehen-
sions of a different result. The letters are still more interesting, as
showing how warmly alive lo each other's feelings the hearts of botli
husband and wife could remain, after the long lapse of near twenty
years , and after trials more fatal to love than even lime itself.
" This letter will find you, my dear Dick, I hope, encircled with
honours at Stafford. I take it for granted you entered it triumphantly on
Sunday,— but I am very impatient to hear the particulars, and of the
utter discomfiture of S — and his followers. I received your note from
Birmingham this morning, and am happy to find that you and my dear
cuh were well, so far on your journey. \ou could not he happier than I
should he in the proposed alteration for Tom, hut we will talk more
of this when \vc meet. 1 sent you Gartwright yesterday, and to-day 1
pack you oil' Perry with the soldiers. I was obliged to give them four
guineas for their expenses. I send you likewise, by Perry, the note from
Mrs. Creuc, to enable you to speak of your qualification if you should
be called upon. So I think I have executed all your commissions, Sir;
and if you want any of these doubtful votes which I mentioned to you,
you will have time enough to send for them, for I would not let them go
till I hear they can be of any use.
"And, now for my journal, Sir, which I suppose you expect. Saturday,
1 was at home all day busy for you, — kept .Mrs. Reid to dinner, —
went to the Opera, — afterwards to Mrs. St. John's, where I lost
my money sadjy, Sir, — cat strawberries and cream for supper,— sat
between Lord Salisbury and Mr. Meynell, (hope you approve of that,
Sir, ) — overheard Lord Salisbury advise Miss Boyle by no means to sub-
scribe to Taylor's Opera , as O'Reilly's would certainly have the patent,
—confess I did not come home till past two. Sunday, called on Lady
Julia,— father and Mr. Reid to dinner,— in the evening at Lady llamp-
den's, — lost my money again , Sir, and came home by one o'clock. 'Tis
now near one o'clock, -my father is established in my boudoir, and
when 1 have finished this, lam going with him to hear Abbe Vogler
play oir the Stafford organ. I have promised to dine with Mrs. Crewe ,
OF R. B. SHERIDAN. 315
who is to have a female party only, — no objection to that I suppose ,
Sir? Whatever the party do , I shall do of course, — I suppose it will
end in Mrs. Hobart's. Mr. James told me on Saturday, and I fiud it is
the report of the day, that Bond Hopkins is gone to Stafford. I am sorry
to tell you there is an opposition at York, — Mr. Montague opposes Sir
William Milner, Mr. Beckford has given up at Dover, and Lord ** is so
provoked at it, that he has given up too, though they say they were
both sure. St. Ives is gone for want of a candidate. Mr. Barham is beat at
Stockbridge. Charles Lenox lias offered for Surry, and they say Lord
Egremont might drive him to the deuce, if he would set any body up
against him. You know, I suppose, Mr. Crewe has likewise an opponent.
J am sorry to tell you all this bad news, and, to complete it, Mr. Adam
is sick in bed , and there is nobody to do any good left in town.
" I am more than ever convinced we must look to other resources for
wealth and independence , and consider politics merely as an amuse-
ment,— and in that light 'tis best to be in Opposition , which I am afraid
we are likely to be for some years again.
" I see the rumours of war still continue. — Stocks continue to fall — is
that good or bad for the Ministers ? The little boys are come home to me
to-day. I could not help showing in my answer to Mr. T.'s letter, that I
was hurt at his conduct,— so I have got another flummery letter, and the
bo\s, who (as he is pretty sure) will be the best peace-makers. God
bless you, my dear Dick. I am very well, I assure you ; pray don't neglect
to write to your ever affectionate ,
"E.S.'r
" MY DEAREST DICK, Wednesday.
11 I am full of anxiety and fright about you ,— I cannot but think your
letters are very alarming. Deuce take the Corporation! is it impossible to
make them resign their pretensions, and make peace with the Bur-
gesses? I have sent Thomas after Mr. Cocker. I suppose you have sent
for the out-votes; but, if they are not good, what a terrible expense will
that l>e! — however, they ar.e ready. I saw Mr. Cocker yesterday,— he
collected them together last night, and gave them a treat , — so they are
in high good humour. I inclose you a letter which' B. left here last
night. — I could not resist opening it. Every thing seems going wrong, I
think. I thought he was not to do any thing in your absence. — It strikes
me the bad business he mentions was entirely owing to his own stupi-
dity, and want of a little patience, — is it of much consequence ? I don't
hear that the report is true of Basilico's arrival ; — a messenger came to
the Spanish embassy, which gave rise to this tale , I believe.
" If you were not so worried, I should scold you for the "conclusion of
your letter to-day. Might not 1 as well accuse you of coldness., for not
filling your letter with professions , at a time when your head must be
full of business? I think of nothing all day long, but how to do^ood,
some how or other, for you. I have given you a regular Journal of my
i inn;, and all to please you , — so don't, dear Dick , lay so much stress on
words. I should use them oftener , perhaps, but I feel as if it would look
like deceit. You know me well enough , to be sure that I can never do
what I'm bid, Sir,— but pray, don't think I meant to send you a cold
letter, fur indeed nothing \vasevcrfarllicr from my heart.
3 1C MEMOIRS
" You will see Mr. Home Tooke's advertisement to day in thepapers^
— what do you think of that, to complete the thing? Bishop Dixon has
just called from the hustings : — rhe says, the late Recorder, Adair, pro-
posed Charles with a good speech , and great applause, — Captain Berke-
ley, Lord Hood, with a had speech, not much applauded; and then
Home Tooke came forward, and, in the most impudent speech that
ever was heard, proposed himself, — abused both the candidates , and said
he should have been ashamed to have sat and heard such ill-deserved
praises given him. But he told the crowd that, since so many of these fine
virtues and qualifications had never yet done them the least good, they
might as well now choose a candidate without them. He said , however ,
that if they were sincere in their professions of standing alone, he was
sure of coming in, for they must all give him their second votes. There
was aa amazing deal of laughing and noise in the course of his speech.
Charles Fox attempted to answer him, and so did Lord Hood, — but they
would hear neither , and they are now polling away.
" Do, my dearest love, if you have possibly time, write me a few more
particulars, for your letters are very unsatisfactory, and I am full of
anxiety. Make Richardson write, — what has he better to do? God bless
thee, my dear, dear Dick, — would it were over and all well! I am afraid,
at any rate , it will be ruinous work.
" Ever your true and affectionate,
"E. S."
" Near five. I am just come from the hustings : — the state of the poll
when I left it was, Fox, 260; Hood, -j5 ; Home Tooke, 17! But he still
persists in his determination of polling a map. an hour for the whole
time. I saw Mr. Wilkes go up to vote for Tooke and Hood, amidst the
hisses and groans of a multitude."
" Friday.
" My poor Dick, how you are worried! This is the day, — you will
easily guess how anxious I shall be ; but you seem pretty sanguine your-
self, which is my only comfort, for Richardson's letter is rather croaking.
You have never said a word of little Monkton -.—has he any chance, or
none? I ask questions without considering that , before you receive this,
every thing will be decided — I hope triumphantly for you. What a sad
set of venal rascals your favourites the Blacks must be, to turn so sud-
denly from their professions and promises! I am half sorry you have any
thing more to do with them, and more than ever regret you did not
stand for Westminster with Charles , instead of Lord John;- in that case
you would have come in now, and we should not have been persecuted
by this Home Tooke. However , it is the dullest contested election that
ever was seen — no canvassing , no houses open, no cockades. But I heard
that a report prevails now, that Home Tooke polling so few the two or
three first days is an artful trick to put the others off their guard , and
that he means to pour in his votes on the last days, when it will be too
late for them to repair their neglect. But I don't think it possible, either,
for such a fellow to beat Charles in Westminster.
" I have just had a note from Reid — he is at Canterbury -.—the state of
the poll there, Thursday ni ght, was as follows :— Gipps, 220; Lord * *, 211:
OF R. B. SHERIDAN. 317
Sir T. Honey wood , ai6;'Mr. Warton , i65. We have got two members
for Wendover, and two at Ailsbury. Mr. Barhatn is beat at Stockbridge.
Mr. Tierne\ says he shall be beat, owing to Bate Dudley's manoeuvres, and
the Disinters having all forsaken him,— a set of ungrateful wretches.
K. Fau kener has just sent me a state of the poll at . Northampton , as it
stood \ r.sterday, when they adjourned to (dinner : — Lord Compton, 160;
Bouveric, 98; Colonel Manners , 72. They are in hopes Mr. Manners will
give up. This is all my -news, Sir.
• \Ve had a very pleasant musical party last night at Lord Erskine's,
where I supped. I am asked to dine to-day with Lady Palmerston, at
Sheen ; but I can't go-, unless Mrs. Grewe will carry me, as the coach is
gone to. have its new lining. I have sent to ask her, for 'tis a fine day, and
1 should like it very well. God thee bless, my dear Dick.
" Ytours ever, true and affectionate ,
,'V' "E. S."
" Duke of Portland has just left- me : — he is full of anxiety about you :
l liis is the second time he has called to enquire."
Having secured his own election, Mr. Sheridan now hastened to
lend his aid, where such a lively reinforcement was much wanted,
on the hustings at Westminster. The contest here was protracted to
the 2d of July ; and it required no little exercise both pf wit and
temper to encounter the cool personalities of Tooke , who had not
forgotten the severe remarks of Sheridan upon His pamphlet the pre-
ceding year, and who, in addition to his strong powers of sarcasm ,
had all those advantages which , in such a contest , contempt for the
courtesies and compromises of party warfare gives. Among other
sallies of his splenetic humour it is related, that Mr. Fox having,
upon one occasion, retired from the hustings, and left to Sheridan
the task of addressing the multitude, Tooke remarked , that such
was always the practice of quack-doctors , who, whenever they quit
the stage themselves, make it a rule to leave their merry-andrews
behind'.
The French Revolution still continued , by its comet-like course ,
to dazzle , alarm and disturb all Europe. Mr. Burke had ^published
his celebrated " Reflections1' in the month of November , 1790- and
never did any work , with the exception , perhaps , of the Eikon
Basiiike, produce such a rapid, deep and general sensation. The
Eikon was the book of a King, and this might, in another sense,
be called the Book of Kings. Not only in England , but throughout
all Europe, in every part of which monarchy was now trembling
' Tooke, it is said, upon coining one Monday morning to ihe hustings, was
thus addressed by a partizan of his opponent, not of a very reputable character •
— "Well, Mr. Tooke, you will have all the blackguards with you to-day." —
" I am delimited in hear It , Sir," (said Tooke, bowing.) "and from snch good
autlfoiitv."
318 MEMOIRS
lor its existence ,— this lofty appeal to loyalty was heard and wel-
comed. Its effect upon the already tottering Whig party was like that
of " the Voice," in the ruins of Rome, "disparting towers." The
whole fabric of the old Rockingham confederacy shook to its base.
Even some , who afterwards recovered their equilibrium , at first
yielded to the eloquence of this extraordinary book , — which , like
the acra of chivalry , whose loss it deplores, mixes a grandeur with
error, and throws a charm round political superstition , that will long
render its pages a sort of region of Royal romance , to which fancy
will have recourse for illusions that have lost their last hold on the
reason.
The undisguised freedom with which Mr. Fox and Mr. Sheridan
expressed every where their opinions of this work and its principles
had, of course, no small influence on the temper of the author, and,
while it confirmed him in his haired and jealousy of the one , pre-
pared him for the breach which he meditated with the other. This
breach was now , indeed , daily expected , as a natural sequel to the
rupture with Mr. {Sheridan in the last session -, but, by various acci-
dents and interpositions, 'the crisis was delayed till the 6th of May ,
when the recommitment of the Quebec Bill , — a question , upon
which both orators had already taken occasion to unfold their views
of the French Revolution,— -furnished Burke with an opportunity ,
of which he impetuously look advantage, lo sever the lie between
himself and Mr. Fox for ever.
Tliis scene, — so singular in a public assembly , where the natural
affections were but seldom called out, and where, though bursts of
temper like that of Burke are common , such tears as those shed by
Mr. Fox are rare phenomena , — has been so often described in va-
rious publications , that it would be superfluous to enter into the de-
tails of it here. The following are the solemn and stern words in
which sentence of death was pronounced upon a friendship , that had
now lasted for more than the fourth part of a century. " It cer-
tainly," said Mr. Burke, "was indiscretion at any period, but
especially at his lime of life , to provoke enemies , or to give his
friends occasion to desert him ; yet, if his firm and steady adherence
to the British Constitution placed him in such a dilemma , he would
risk all, and, as public duty and public prudence taught him , with
his last words exclaim , ' Fly from the French Constitution.' " [Mr.
Fox here whispered , that " there was no loss of friendship.' ] Mr.
Burke said, "Yes, there was a loss of friendship ; — he knew the
price of his conduct •, — he had done his duty at the price of his
friend; — their friendship was at an end."
In rising to reply to the speech of Burke , Mr. Fox was- so affected
as lo be for some moments unable to speak : — he wept . it is said ,
OF K. B. SHERIDAN. 319
oven to sobbing; and persons who were in Iho gallery at the time
declare, that, \vhilehespoke, there was hardly a dry eye around
them.
Had it been possible for two natures so incapable of disguise — the
one from simplicity and frankness , the other from ungovernable
temper ,— to have continued in relations- of amity, notwithstanding
their disagreement upon a question which was at that moment
soiling the world in arms , both themselves and the country would
have been the better for such a compromise between them. Their
long habits of mutual deference would have mingled with and mo-
derated the discussion* of their present differences-, — the tendency
to one common centre to which their minds had been accustomed,
would have prevented them from flying &o very widely asunder ; and
both might have been tjius saved, from those extremes of principle ,
which Mr. Burke always , and Mr. Fox sometimes , had recourse to
in defending their respective opinions, and which, by lighting , as
it were, the torch at both ends, bu( hastened a conflagration in
which liberty herself might have been the sufferer. But it was evi-
dent that such a compromise would have been wholly .impossible.
Even granting that Mr. Burke did not welcome the schism as a re-
lief, neither the temper of the men nor the spirit of the times, which
converted opinions at once into passions ^ would have admitted of
such a peaceable counterbalance of principles , nor suffered them
long to slumber in that hollow truce , which Tacitus has described,
— " manente in speciem amicitia.'''' Mr. Sheridan saw this from
the first ; and , in hasarding that vehement speech by which he pro-
voked the rupture between himself and Burke, neither his judgment
nor his temper were so much off their guard as they who blamed
thai speech seemed inclined to infer. But, perceiving that a sepa-
ration was in the end inevitable, he thought it safer, perhaps, as
well as manlier , to encounter the extremities at once , than by any
temporizing delay , or loo complaisant suppression of opinion , to
involve both himself and Mr, Fox in the suspicion of either sharing
or countenancing that spirit of defection , which , he saw , was fast
spreading among the rest of their associates.
It is indeed said , and with every appearance of truth , that Mr.
Sheridan had fell offended by the censures which, some of his political
friends had pronounced upon the indiscretion (as it was called) of
his speech in the last year, and that , having, in consequence, with-
drawn from them the aid of his powerful talents during a great part
of the present session , he but returned to his post under the express
condition , that he should be allowed to lake the earliest opportunity
of repeating, fully and explicitly, the same avowal of his senti-
ments.
320 MEMOIRS
The following teller from Dr. Parr to Mrs. Sheridan , written
immediately after the scene between Eurke and Sheridan in the pre-
ceding year, is curious : —
" DEAR 31 ADAM,
" I am most iixedly and most indignantly on the side of Mr. Sheridan
and Mr. Fox against Mr. Burke. It is not merely French politics that
produced this dispute; — they might have been settled privately. No, no,
—there is jealousy lurking underneath ;— jealousy of Mr. Sheridan's
eloquence ;— jealousy of his popularity ;— jealousy of his influence with
Mr. Fox;— jealousy, perhaps, of his connection with the Prince.
" Mr. Sheridan was, Ithink , not too warm ; or , at least, I should have
myself been warmer. Why, Burke accused Mr. Fox and Mr. Sheridan of
acts leading to rebellion, — and he made Mr. Fox a dupe, and Mr. Sheridan
a traitor ! I think this, — and lam sure, yes, positively sure, that nothing
else will allay.the ferment of mens' minds. Mr. Sheridan ought, publicly in
Parliament, to demand proof , or a retractation, of this horrible charge.
Pitt's words never did the party half the hurt;— and, just on the eve of aa
election, it is worse. As to private bickerings, or private concessions and
reconciliations, they are all nothing. In public all must be again taken
up ; for if drowned , the Public will say, and Pitt will insinuate , that the
charge is well founded , and that they dare not provoke an enquiry.
" I know Burke is not addicted to giving up,— and so much the worse
for him and his parly. As to Mr. Fox's yielding, well had it been for all,
all, all the party, if 3Ir. Fox had, now and then, stood out against
Mr. Burke. The ferment and alarm are universal, and something must
be done ; — for it is a conflagration in which they must perish , unless it
be stopped. All the papers are with Burke, — even the Foxite papers,
which I have seen. I know his violence, and temper, and obstinacy of
opinion, and — but 1 will not speak out, fpr, though I think him the
greatest man upon the earth , yet , in politics I think him, — what he has
been found , to the sorrow of those who act with him. He is incorrupt,
I know ; but bis passions are quite headstrong ' , and age, and disappoint-
ment, and the sight of other men rising into fame and consequence, sour
him. Pray tell me when they are reconciled, — though, as I said , it is
nothing to the purpose without a public explanation.
" Lam , dear Madam,
"Yours truly,
"S.-PAHR,"
Another letter, communicated to me as having been written about
this period to Sheridan by a gentleman , then abroad , who was w ell
acquainted with the whole party , contains allusions to the breach ,
which make its introduction here not irrelevant : —
'• I wish very much to have some account of the state of things with
1 It was well said, (I believe , by Mr. Fox,) tbat it was lucky bolh for Cnrke
and \Vindham. tbat tbey took the Royal side on the subject of (be Trench Revolu-
tion ,~as tuny would bave got banged on the other.
OF R. K. SHERIDAN, 321
you that I cau rely on. I wish to know how all my old companions and
fellow-labourers do ; if the club yet exists ; if you and Richardson , and
Lord Jolm, and Ellis, and Lawrence, and Fitzpatrick, etc. meet,
and joke, and write as of old. What is become of Becket's, and
the snpper-parties, the nodes ccencequc ? Poor Burgoyne ! lam sure
you allmommed him as I did, particularly Richardson: — pray remem-
ber me affectionately to Richardson. It is a shame for you all, and
I will say ungrateful in many of you, to have so totally forgotten me,
and to leave me in ignorance of every thing public and private in which
I am interested. The only creature -who writes to me is the Duke of
Portland; but in the great and weighty occupations that engross his
mind, you can easily conceive that the little details of Society cannot enter
into His Grace's correspondence. I have indeed carried on a pretty re-
gular correspondence with young Burke. But that is now at an end. He
is so wrapt up in the importance of his present pursuits, that it is too
great an honour for me to continue to correspond with him. His father I
ever must venerate and ever love ; yet I never could admire, even in him,
what his son has inherited from him, a tenacity of opinion and a vio-
lence of principle, that makes him lose his friendships in his politics,
and quarrel with every one who differs from him. Bitterly Jiave I la-
mented that greatest of these quarrels, and , indeed, the only important
one : nor can I conceive it to have been 'less afflicting to my private feel-
ings than fatal to the party. The worst of it to me was, that I was obliged
to condemn the man I loved , and that alt the warmth of my affection ,
and the zeal of my partiality, could not suggest a single excuse to vindi-
cate him , either to the world or to myself, from the crime (for such it
was ) of giving such a triumph to the common enemy. He failed, too,. in
what I most loved him for, — his heart. There it was that Mr... Fox prin-
cipally rose above, him-; nor, amiable as he ever has been, did he ever
appear half so amiable as on that trying occasion."
The topic upon which Sheridan most distinguished himself during
this Session .was the meditated interference of England in the war
between Russia and the Porte , — one of the few- measures of Mr.
Pilt on which the sense of the nation was opposed to him. So unpo-
pular , indeed , was the Armament proposed to be raised for this
object , and so rapidly did the majority of the Minister diminish
during the discussion of it , that there appeared for some time a pro-
bability that the Whig party would be called into power , — an event
which, happening at this critical juncture , might, by altering the
policy of England, have changed the destinies of all Europe.
The circumstance to which at present this Russian question owes
its chief hold upon English memories is the charge , arising out of
it, brought against Mr. Fox of having sent Mr. Adair as his repre-
sentative to Pelersburgh , for the purpose of frustrating the objects
for which the King's ministers were then actually negotiating. This
accusation, though more than once obliquely intimated during the
discussions upon the Russian Armament in 1791, first met the public
21
322 MEMOIRS
eye, in any tangible form, among those celebrated Articles of Im-
peachment against Mr. Fox, which were drawn up by Burke's prac-
tised hand ' in 1793, and found their way surreptitiously into print
in 1797. The angry and vindictive tone of this paper was but little
calculated to inspire confidence in its statements , and the charge
again died away, unsupported and unrefuled , till the appearance of
the Memoirs of Mr. Pitt by the Bishop of Winchester 5 when , upon
the authority of documents said to be found among the papers of
Mr. Pitt, but not produced, the accusation was revived, — the Right
Reverend biographer calling in aid of his own view of the transaction
the charitable opinion of the Turks , who, he complacently assures
us, "expressed great surprise that Mr. Fox had not lost his head
for such conduct." Notwithstanding, however, this Concordat be-
tween the Right Reverend Prelate and the Turks , something more
is still wanting to give validity to so serious an accusation. Until the
production of the alleged proofs ( which Mr. Adair has confidently
demanded) shall have put the public in possession of more recon-
dite materials for judging , they must regard as satisfactory and con-
clusive the refutation of the whole charge , both as regards himself
and his illustrious friend, which Mr. Adair has laid before the world ,
and for the truth of which not only his own high character, but the
character of the ministries of both parties , who have since employed
him in missions of the first trust and importance , seem to offer the
strongest and most convincing pledges.
The Empress of Russia , in testimony of her admiration of the
eloquence of Mr. Fox on this occasion , sent an order to England ,
through her ambassador, for a bust of that statesman , which it was
her intention , she said, to place between those of Demosthenes and
Cicero. The following is a literal copy of Her Imperial Majesty's
note on the subject 2 : —
" Ecrivez au Cte. Worehzof qu'il me fasse avoir en marbre blanc le
buste ressemfolant de Charles Fox. Je veux le mettre sur ma colonnade
entre ceux de Demosthene ct de Ciceron.
" II a delivre par son eloquence sa patrie et la Russie d'une guerre a
laquelle il n'y avail ni justice ni raison."
Another subject that engaged much of the attention of Mr. She-
ridan this year was his own motion relative to the constitution of the
1 This was the third time that his talent for impeaching was exercised , as he
acknowledged having drawn up, daring the administration of Lord North, seven
distinct Articles of Impeachment against that nobleman, .which, however, the
advice of Lord Rockingham induced him to relinquish.-; :
3 Found among Mr. Sheridan's papers, with these words, in his own band-
writing, annexed : — "N. B. Fox would have lost it, if I had not made him look
for it, and taken a copy."
OF R. B. SHERIDAN. 353
Royal Scotch Boroughs. He had been , singularly enough , selected ,
in the year 1787, by the Burgesses of Scotland, in preference to so
many others possessing more personal knowledge of that country, to
present to the House the Petition of the Convention of Delegates , for
a Reform of the internal government of the Royal Boroughs. How
fully satisfied they were with his exertions in their cause may be
judged by the following extract from the Minutes of Convention,
dated llth August, 1791 :—•
" Mr. Mills of Perth, after a suitable introductory speech, moved a vote
of thanks to Mr. Sheridan , in the following words : —
"The Delegates of the Burgesses of Scotland, associated for the
purposes of Reform, taking into their most serious consideration the
important services rendered to their cause by the manly and prudent
exertions of Richard Brinsley Sheridan, Esq., the genuine and fixed at-
tachment to it which the whole tenor of his conduct has evinced, and the
admirable moderation lie has all along displayed,
" Resolved unanimously, That the most sincere thanks of this meeting
be given to tlie said Richard Brinsley She'ridan , Esq., for his steady,
honourable, and judicious conduct in bringing the question relative to
the violated rigbts of the Scottish Boroughs to its present important and
favourable crisis ; and the Burgesses with firm confidence hope that, from
his attachment to tbe cause, which he has sbown to be deeply rooted iu
principle, he will persevere to exert his distinguished abilities, till the
objects of it are obtained, with tbat inflexible firmness, and constitutional
moderation , which have appeared so .conspicuous and exemplary
throughout the whole of bis conduct, as to be highly deserving of tbe
imitation of all good citizens.
" JOHN EWEN , Secretary."
From a private letter written this year by one of the Scottish Dele-
gates to a friend of Mr. Sheridan, (a copy of which letter 1 have found
among the papers of the latter, ) ft appears that the disturbing effects
of Mr. Burke's book had already shown themselves so strongly
among the Whig party as to fill the writer with apprehensions of
their defection , even on the safe .and moderate question of Scotch
Reform. He mentions one distinguished member of the party, who
afterwards stood conspicuously in the very van of the Opposition ,
but who at that moment, if the authority of the letter may be de-
pended upon, was, like others, under the spell of the great Alarmist,
and yielding rapidly to the influence of that anti-revolutionary terror,
which, like the Panic dignified by the ancients with the name of one
of their Gods, will be long associated in the memories of Englishmen
with the mighty name and genius of Burke. A consultation was ,
however, held among this portion of the party, with respect to the
prudence of lending their assistance to the measure of Scotch Re-
form ; and Sir James Mackintosh, as I have heard him say. was in
324 MEMOIRS
company with Sheridan, when Dr. Lawrence came direct from the
meeting, to inform him that they had agreed to support his motion.
The stale of the Scotch Representation is one of those cases, where
a dread of the ulterior objects of Reform induces many persons to
oppose its first steps , however beneficial and reasonable they may
deem them, rather than risk a further application of the principle ,
or open a breach by which a bolder spirit of innovation may enter.
As it is, there is no such thing as popular election in Scotland. We
cannot, indeed , more clearly form to ourselves a notion of the man-
ner in which so important a portion of the British empire is repre-
sented , than by supposing the Lords of the Manor throughout Eng-
land to be invested with the power of clecling her representatives, —
the manorial rights, too, being, in a much greater number of in-
stances than at present, held independently of the land from which
they derive their claim, and thus the natural connection between
property and the right of election being, in most cases, wholly sepa-
rated. Such would be, as nearly as possible, a parallel to the system
of representation now existing in Scotland; — a system, which it is
the understood duly of all present and future Lord Advocates to de-
fend , and which neither the lively assaults of a Sheridan, nor the
sounder reasoning and industry of an Abcrcrombie , have yet been
able to shake.
The following extract from another of the many letters of Dr.
Parr to Sheridan shows still further the feeling entertained towards
Rurke , even by some of those who most violently differed with
him : —
" During the recess of Parliament T hope you will read the mighty
work of my friend and your friend, and Mr. Fox's friend, Mackintosh .
there is some obscurity and there are many Scotticisms in it; yet 1
do pronounce it the work of a most masculine and comprehensive
mind. The arrangement is far more methodical than Mr. Burke's ,
the sentiments are more patriotic, the reasoning is more profound ,
and even the imagery in some places is scarcely less splendid. I think
Mackintosh a better philosopher, and a better citizen , and I know him
to be a far better scholar, and a far better man, than Payne; in whose
book there are great irradiations of genius, but none of the glowing and
generous warmth which virtue inspires; that warmth which is often
kindled in the bosom of Mackintosh, and which pervades almost every
page in Mr. Burke's book — though I confess, and with sorrow.! confess,
that the holy flame was quite extinguished in his odious altercation with
you and Mr. Fox."
A letter from the Prince of Wales to Sheridan this year furnishes a
new proof of the confidence reposed in him by His Royal Highness.
A question of much delicacy and importance having arisen between
that Illustrious Personage and the Duke of York , of a nature , as il
OF R. B. SHERIDAN. 325
appears , too urgent to wait for a reference to Mr. Fox , Sheridan
had alone the honour of advising His Royal Highness in the corres-
pondence that took place between him and his Royal Brother on that
occasion. Though the letter affords no immediate clue to the subject
of these communications, there is little doubt that they referred to a
very important and embarrassing question , which is known to have
been put by the Duke of York to the Heir Apparent , previously to
his own marriage this year; — a question , which involved considera-
tions connected with the Succession to the Crown , and which the
Prince", witli the recollection of what occurred on the same subject
in 1787, could only get rid of by an evasive answer.
CHAPTER XV.
Death of Mrs. Sheridan.
IN the year 1792 , after a long illness , which terminated in con-
sumption, Mrs. Sheridan died at Bristol, in the thirty-eighth year of
her age.
There has seldom , perhaps , existed a finer combination of all
those qualities that attract both eye and heart than this accomplished
and lovely person exhibited. To judge by what we hear, it was im-
possible to sec her without admiration, or know her without love;
and a late Bishop used to say that she '.'.seemed to him the connect-
ing link between woman and angel ' ." The devpledness of affection r
too, with which she was regarded , not only by her own father and
sisters , but by all her husband's family, showed that her fascination
was of that best kind which , like charity, " begins at home ;" and
that , while her beauty and music enchanted the world , she had
charms more intrinsic and lasting for those who came nearcx to her.
We have already seen with what pliant sympathy she followed her
husband through his various pursuits , — identifying herself with the
politician as warmly and readily as with the author, and keeping
Love still attendant on Genius through all his transformations. As
the wife of the dramatist and manager, we find her calculating the
receipts of the house , assisting in the adaptation of her husband's
opera , and reading over the plays sent in by dramatic candidates.
As the wife of the senator and orator we see her, with no less zeal ,
making extracts from state-papers , and copying out ponderous
pamphlets, — entering with all her heart and soul into the details of
elections , and even endeavouring to fathom the mysteries of the
' Jackson of Exeter, too , giving a description of her, in some IVIemoii's of bis
own Life that were never published, said that to see her, as she stood oiogiug
Iw-side him at the pia uo-foilc , was " like looking into the face of an angel."
326 MEMOIRS
Funds. The affectionate and sensible care with which she watched
over, not only her own children , but those which her beloved sister,
Mrs. Tickell , confided to her, in dying , gives the finish to this
picture of domestic usefulness. When it is recollected , too , that
the person thus homelily employed was gifted with every charm
that could adorn and delight society, it would be difficult , perhaps,
to find any where a more perfect example of that happy mixture of
utility and ornament , in which all that is prized by the husband and
the lover combines , and which renders woman what the Sacred Fire
\vas to the Parsees , — not only an object of adoration on their altars,
but a source of warmth and comfort to their hearths.
To say that , with all this , she was not happy, nor escaped the
censure of the world , is but to assign to her that share of shadow,
without which nothing bright ever existed on this earth. United not
only by marriage , but by love , to a man who was the object of uni-
versal admiration , and whose vanity and passions too often led him
to yield to the temptations by which he was surrounded , it was but
natural that, in the consciousness of her own power to charm, she
should be now and then piqued into an appearance of retaliation ,
and seem to listen with complacence to some of those numerous
worshippers who crowd around such beautiful and unguarded
shrines. Not that she was at any time unwatched by Sheridan ; — on
the contrary, he followed her with a lover's eyes throughout; and
it was believed of both , by those who knew them best , that , even
when they seemed most attracted by other objects , they would will-
ingly, had they consulted the real wishes of their hearts, have given
up every one in the world for each other. So wantonly do those ,
who have happiness in their grasp , trifle with that rare and delicate
treasure, till , like the careless hand playing with a rose,
" In swinging it rudely, too rudely, alas ,
They snap it — it falls to the ground."
They had , immediately after their marriage , as we have seen ,
passed some time in a little cottage at Easlburnham , and it was a
period, of course, long remembered by them both for its happiness.
I have been told by a friend of Sheridan , that he once overheard
him exclaiming to himself, after looking for some moments at his
wife, with a pang, no doubt, of melancholy self-reproach, —
"Could any thing bring back those first feelings?" then adding,
with a sigh, ".Yes, perhaps, the cottage at Eastburnham might."
In this , as well as in some other traits of the same kind , there is
assuredly any thing but that common place indifference , which too
often clouds over the evening of married life. On the contrary, it
seems rather the struggle of affection with its own remorse $ and ,
01 R. B. SHERIDAN- 3S7
like the humourist who mourned over the extinction of his intellect
so eloquently as to prove thai it was still in full vigour, shows love
to be still warmly alive in the very act of lamenting its death.
I have already presented the reader with some letters of Mrs. She-
ridan , in which the feminine character of her mind very interest-
ingly displays itself. Their chief charm is unaffectedness , and the
total absence of that literary style which , in the present day, infects
even the most familiar correspondence. I shall here give a few more
of her letters , written at different periods to the elder sister of She-
ridan , — it being one of her many merits to have kept alive between
her husband and his family, though so far separated, a constant and
cordial intercourse, which, unluckily, after her death, from his
own indolence and the new connections into which he entered, was
suffered to die away, almost entirely. The first letter, from its allu-
sion to the Westminster Scrutiny , must have been written in the
year 1784 , Mr. Fox having gained his great victory over Sir Cecil
Wray on the 17th of May, and the Scrutiny having been granted
on the same day.
" MY DEAR Lissr, London, June 6. » .
" I am happy to find by your last that our apprehensions on Charles's
account were useless. The many reports that were circulated here of his ,
accident gave us a good deal of uneasiness ; but it is no longer wonderful
that he should be buried here, when Mr. Jackman has so barbarously
murdered him with you. I fancy he would risk another broken head ,
rather than give up his title to it as an officer pf the Crown. We go on
here wrangling as usual , but I am afraid all to no purpose. Those who
are in possession of power are determined to use it without the least
pretence to justice or consistency.- They have. ordered a Scrutiny for
Westminster, in defiance of all law or precedent, and without any other
hope or expectation but that of harassing and tormenting Mr. Fox and
his friends, and obliging them to waste their time and money, which
perhaps they think might otherwise be employed to a better purpose in
another cause. We have nothing for it but patience and perseverance,
which I hope will at last be crowned with success, though I fear it will be
a much longer trial than we at fir,st expected. I hear from every body
that your are vastly disliked, — but are you not all kept in
awe by such beauty ? I know she flattered herself to subdue all your
Volunteers by the fire of her eyes only : — how astonished she must be
to find they have not yet laid down their arms! There is nothing would
tempt me to trust my sweet person upon the water sooner than the
thoughts of seeing you ; but I fear my friendship will hardly ever be put
to so hard a trial. Though Sheridan is not in office, I think he is more
engaged by politics than ever.
" I suppose we shall not leave town till September. We have promised
to pay many visits, but I fear we shall be obliged to give up many of our
schemes, for I take it for granted Parliament will meet again as soon as
328 MEMOIRS
possible. We are to go to Chatsworth, and to another friend -of mine in
that neighbourhood, so that I doubt our being able to pay our annual
visit to Crewe Hall. Mrs Crewe has been very ill all this winter with
your old complaint, the rheumatism : — she is gone lo Brightelmstone to
wash it awav in the sea. Do you ever see Mrs. Greville? 1 am glad to hear
my two nephews are both in so thriving a way. Are your still a nurse? I
should like to take a peep at your bantlings. Which is the handsomest?
have you candour enough to think any thing equal to your own boy ? —
if you have, you have more merit than I can claim. Pray remember me
kindly to Bess, Mr. L., etc. and don't forget to kiss the little squaller for
me when you have nothing better to do. God bless you.
" Ever yours."
" The inclosed came to Dick in one of Charles's franks : he said
lie should write to you himself with it, but I think it safest not to
trust him."
In another letter, written in the same year, there arc some touches
both of sisterly and of conjugal feeling, which seem to bespeak a
heart happy in all its affections.
" MY DEAR LISSY, Putney, August, iG.
" You will no doubt be surprised to find me still dating from this
place, but various reasons have detained me here from day to day, to
the groat dissatisfaction of my dear Mary, who has been expecting me
hourly for the last fortnight. 1 propose going to Hampton-Court to-
night, if Dick returns in any decent time from town.
" I got your letter and a half the day before yesterday, and shall be
very well pleased to have such blunders occur more frequently. You
mistake, if you suppose I am a friend to your tarrers and featherers : —
it is such wretches that always ruin a good cause. There is no reason on
earth why you should not have a new Parliament as well as us : — it
might not, perhaps, be quite as convenient to our immaculate Minister,
but I sincerely hope he will not find your Volunteers so accommodating
as the present India troops in our House of Commons. What! does the
Secretary at War condescend to reside in any house but his own ? — 'Tis
very odd he should turn himself out of doors in his situation. I never
could perceive any economy in dragging furniture from one place to
another; but, of course, lie has more experience in these matters than
I have.
" Mr. Forbes dined here the other day, and I had a great deal of
conversation with him on various subjects relating to you all. lie says,
Charles's manner of talking of his wife, etc. is so ridiculous, that
whenever he comes into company, they always cry out, — ' Now, S— n ,
we allow you half an hour to talk of the beauties of Mrs. S., half an hour
to your child, and another half hour to your farm, and then we expect
you will behave like a reasonable person.'
" So Mrs. is not happy : — poor thing, 1 dare say, if the I ruth were
known, he teazes her to death. Your very good husbands generally
contrive to make you sensible of their merit some how or other.
" From a letter Mr. Canning has just got from Dublin, 1 find you have
OF R. B. SHERIDAN. 329
been breaking the heads of some of our English heroes. I have no doubt
in the world that they deserved it; and if half a score more that I know
had shared the same fate, it might, perhaps, become less the fashion
among our young men to be such contemptible coxcombs as they
certainly are. ••
" My sister desired me to say all sorts of affectionate things to you, in
return for your kind remembrance of her in your last. I assure you, you
lost a great deal by not seeing her in her maternal character : — it is the
prettiest sight in the world to see her with her children : — they are both
charming creatures, but my little namesake is my delight : — 'tis impos-
sible to say how foolishly fond of her I am. Poor Mary ! she is in a way
to have more, and what will become of them all is sometimes a conside-
ration that gives me many a painful hour. But they are happy, with their
little portion of the goods of this world : — then, what are riches good for?
For my part, as you know, poor Dick and I have always been struggling
against the stream, and shall probably continue to do so to the end of
our lives,— yet we would not change sentiments or sensations with. . . .
for all his estates. By the bye, I was told t'other day he was going to
receive eight thousand pounds as 'a compromise for his uncle's estate ,
which has been so long in litigation :— is it true ? — I dare say it is though,
or he would not be so discontented as you say he is.. God bless you. —
Give my love to Bess, and return a kiss to my nephew for me. Remember
me to Mr. L., and believe me . •
" Truly yqurs."
The following letters appear to have been written in 1785, some
months after the death of her sister, Miss Maria Liniey. Her playful
allusions to the fame of her own beauty might have been answered
in the language of Paris to Helen : —
" Minor est tua gloria veto
Famaque de forma pcne maligna est."
" Thy beauty far outruns even rumour's tongue, •
And envious fame leaves half thy charms unsung."
" MY DEAR LISSY , " Delapre Abbey, Dec. 27.
" Notwithstanding your incredulity, I assure you I wrote to you from
Hampton-Court, very soon after Bess came to England. My letter was a
dismal one; for my mind was at that tjme entirely occupied by the
affecting circumstance^ of my poor sister's death. Perhaps you lost
nothing by not receiving my letter, for it was not much calculated 'to
amuse you.
" lam still a recluse, you see, but I am preparing to Inunch for the
winter in a few days. Dick was detained in town by a bad fever : — you
may suppose I was kept in ignorance of his situation, or I should not
have remained so quietly here. He came last week , and the fatigue of the
journey very nearly occasioned a relapse : — but by the help of a jewel of
a doctor that lives in this neighbourhood we are both quite stout, and
well again (for I took it into my head to fall sick again, too, without
rhyme or reason).
" We purpose going to town to-morrow or next day. Our own house
.330 MEMOIRS
has been painting and papering, and the weather lias heen so unfavourable
to the business, that it is probable it will not be fit for us to go info this
month ; we have, therefore, accepted a most pressing invitation of General
Burgoyne to take up our abode with him , till our house is ready ; — so
your next must be directed to Bruton-Street, under cover to Dick, unless
Charles will frank it again. I don't believe what you say of Charles's not
being glad to have seen me in Dublin. You are very flattering in the
reasons you give , but I rather think his vanity would have been more
gratified by showing every body how much prettier and younger his wife
•was than the Mrs. Sheridan in whose favour they have been prejudiced
by your good-natured partiality. If I could have persuaded myself to
trust the treacherous ocean, the pleasure of seeing you and your nursery
would have compensated for all the fame I should have lost by a compa-
rison. But my guardian sylph, vainer of my beauty, perhaps, than myself,
would not suffer me to destroy the flattering illusion you have so often
displayed to your Irish friends. No, — I shall stay till I am past all preten-
sions, and then you may excuse your want of taste by saying, " Oh, if
you had seen her when she was young ! "
" I am very glad that Bess is satisfied with my attention to her. The
unpleasant situation I was in prevented my seeing her as often as I could
wish. For her sake I assure you I shall be glad to have Dick and your
father on good terms, without entering into any arguments on the subject;
— but I fear, where one of the parties, at least, has a tincture of what
they call in Latin damnatus obstinatus mulio, the attempt will be difficult,
and the success uncertain. God bless you ; and believe me
" Truly yours."
" Mrs. Lefanu, Great Cuff Street, Dublin.
The next letter I shall give refers to the illness with which old
Mr. Sheridan was attacked in the beginning of the year 1788, and
of which he died in the month of August following. It is unneces-
sary to direct the reader's attention to the passages in which she
speaks of her lost sister, Mrs. Tickell, and her children: — they
have too much of the heart's best feelings in them to be passed over
slightly.
" MY DEAR Lissv, London, April 5.
" Yonr last letter I hope was written when you were low spirited, and
consequently inclined to forbode misfortune. I would not show it to She-
ridan : — lie has lately been much harassed by business, and I could not
bear to give him the pain I know your letter would have occasioned.
Partial as your father has always been to Charles, I am confldent he never
has, nor ever will feel half the dutv and affections that Dick has always
exprest. I know how deeply he will be afflicted, if you confirm the melan-
choly account of his declining health; — but I trust your next will remove
my apprehensions, and make it unnecessary for me to wround his affec-
tionate heart by the intelligence. I flatter myself likewise, that you have
l>een without reason alarmed about poor Bess. Her life, to be sure, must
lie dreadful;— but I should hope the good nature and kindness of her
OF R. B. SHERIDAN. 331
disposition will support her, and enable her to continue the painful duty
so necessary, probably, to the comfort of your poor father. If Charles has
not or dots not do every thing in his power to contribute to the happiness
of the few years which nature can allow him , he will, have more to
answer to his conscience than I trust any of those dear to me will have.
Mrs. Crewe told us , the other day, she had heard from Mr. Greville,
that every thing was settled much to your father's satisfaction. I -will
hope, therefore , as I have said before, you were in a gloomy fit when you
wrote, and in the mean time I will congratulate you on the recovery of '
your own health and that of your children.
" I have been confined now near two months :— I caught cold almost
immediately on coming to town, which broughton all those dreadful com-
plaints with which I was afflicted at Crewe-Hall.By constant attention and
strict regimen I am once more got about again ; but I never go out of
my house after the sun is down , and on those terms only can I enjoy
tolerable health. I never knew Dick better. My dear boy is now with me
for his holydays, and a" charming creature he is, I assure you, in every
respect. My sweet little charge , too , promises to reward me for all my
care and anxiety. The little ones come to me every day, though they do
not at present live with me. We think of taking a house in the country
this summer, as necessary for my health and convenient to S., who must
be often in town. I shall then have all the children with me , as they
now constitute a very great part of my happiness. The scenes, of sorrow,
and sickness I have lately gone through have depressed my spirits, and
made me incapable of finding pleasure in the amusements which used to
occupy me perhaps too much. My greatest delight is in the reflection
that I am acting according to the wishes of my ever dear and lamented
sister, and that by fulfilling the sacred trust bequeathed me in her last
moments, I insure my own felicity in the grateful affection of the sweet
creatures, — whom, though I love for their own sakes., .1 idolise when I
consider them as the dearest part of her who was the first and nearest
friend of my heart ! — God bless you, my dear Liss : — this is a subject that
always carries me away. I will therefore bid you adieu, — only entreating
you as soon as you can to send me a more comfortable letter,. My kind love
to Bess , and Mr. L.
" Yours, ever affectionately."
I shall give but one more letter ; which is perhaps only interesting
as showing how little her heart went along with the gaieties , into
which her husband's connexion with the world of fashion and poli-
tics led her.
MY DEAR LISSY, May a3.
u I have only time at present to write a few lines at the request of
Mrs. Crewe, who is made very unhappy by an account of Mrs. Greville's
illness, as she thinks it possible Mrs. G. has not confessed the whole of
her situation. She earnestly wishes you would find out from Dr. Quin
what the nature of her complaint is, with every other particular you can
gather on the subject , and give me a line as soon as possible.
" I am v«ry glad to find your father is better. As there has l>cen a
332 MEMOIRS
recess lately from the Trial, I thought it best to acquaint Sheridan with
his illness. I hope now, however, tliere.is but little reason to be alarmed
about him. Mr. Tickell has just received an account from Holland , that
poor Mrs. Berkeley (whom yo'u know best as Betty Tickell) was at the
point of death in a consumption.
" I hope in a very short time now to get into the country. The Duke
of Norfolk has lent us a house within twenty miles of London; and I am im-
patient to be once more out df this noisy, dissipated town , where I do
nothing that I really like, and am forced to appear pleased with every
thing odious to me. God bless you. I write in the hurry of dressing for a
great ball given by the Duke of York to-night, which I had determined
not to go to till late last night, when I was persuaded that it would be-
very improper to refuse a Royal invitation , if I was not absolutely confined
by illness. Adieu. Believe me truly yours.
" You must pay for this letter, for Dick has got your last with the di-
rection ; and any thing in his hands is irrecoverable! "
The health of Mrs. Sheridan , as we sec by some of her letters ,
had been for some time delicate ; but it appears that her last fatal
illness originated in a cold which she had caught in the summer of
the preceding year. Though she continued from that time to grow
gradually worse , her friends were flattered with the hope that as
soon as her confinement should take place , she would be relieved
from all that appeared most dangerous in her complaint. That event ,
however, produced but a temporary intermission of the malady,
which returned after a few days with such increased violence , that
it became necessary for her, as a last hope, to try the waters of
Bristol.
The following affectionate letter of Tickell must have been written
at this period : —
" 3Iv UKAR SHEKIDAX,
"1 was but too well prepared for the melancholy intelligence con-
tained in your last letter, in answer to which, as Richardson will give you
Ibis, J leave it to his kindness to do me justice in every sincere and affec-
tionate expression of my griaf for your situation , and my entire readiness
to obey and further A our wishes by every possible exertion.
" If you have any possible opportunity, let me entreat you to remem-
ber me lo the dearest, tenderest friend and sister of my heart. Sustain
yourself, im dear Sheridan,
" And believe me yours,
"Most affectionately and faithfully,
"R. TICRRLL. ;
The circumstances of her death cannot better be told than in the
language of a lady whose name it would be\an .honour to mention,
who, giving up all other cares and duties , accompanied her dying
friend U» Bristol and devoted herself , with a tenderness rarely
OF R. B. SHERIDAN. 333
equalled even among women , lo the soothing and lightening of her
last painful moments. From the letters written by this lady at the
time, some extracts have lately been given by Miss Lefanu1 in her
interesting Memoirs of her grandmother, Mrs. Frances Sheridan.
Hul their whole contents are so important to the characters of the
persons concerned , and so delicately draw aside the veil from a
scone of which sorrow and affection were the only witnesses, that
1 I'trl myself justified not only in repeating what has already been
quoted , but in.adding a few more valuable particulars , which , by
Ihe kindness of (he writer and her correspondent, I am enabled lo
um> from the same authentic source. The letters are addressed to
Mrs. -H. Lefanu, the second sister of Mr. Sheridan.
... " Bristol, June , i. 1792.
" I am happy to htrve it in my power to give you any information on a
subject so interesting to you, and to all that have the happiness of know-
ing dear Mrs. Sheridan ; though I am sorry to add, it cannot be such as
will relieve your anxiety, or abate your fears. ^l'e truth is, our poor
friend is in a most precarious state of health , and quite given over by the
faculty. Her physician here, who is esteemed very skilful in consumptive
cases, assured me from the first that it was a lost case ; but as your bro-
ther seemed unwilling to know the truth , he was not so explicit with
him, and only represented her as being in a very critical situation. Poor
man ! he cannot bear to think her in danger himself , or that any one else
should; though he is as attentive and watchful as if he expected every
moment to be her last. It is impossible for any man to behaVe with greater
tenderness, or to feel more on such an occasion , than he does.
" At times the dear creature suffers a great deal from weakness and
want of rest. She is. very patient under her sufferings, and perfectly re-
signed. She is well aware of her danger, and talks of dying with the
greatest composure. I am sure it will give you and Mr. Lefanu pleasure
to know that her mind is well prepared for any chaage that may happen,
and that she derives every comfort from religion that a sincere Christian
can look for."
On the 28lh of the same month Mrs. Sheridan died ; and a letter
from this lady, dated July 19th, thus touchingly describes her last
' The talents of this yonng lady are another proof of the sort of gavel- kind of
genius allotted to the whole race of Sheridan. I find her very earliest poetical work,
" The Sylphid Queen," thns spoken of in a letter from the second Mrs. Sheridan
to her mother, Mrs. Lefann: — " I should have acknowledged your very welcome
present iiiunediately, had not Mr. Sheridan, on my telling him what it was, ran
off wilh it, and I have been in vain endeavouring to get it from him ever since.
What little I did read of it, I admired particularly; hut it will he much* more
gratifying to yo'u and your daughter to hear that he read it with the greatest atten
lion, and thought it showed a great deal of imagination."
334 MEMOIRS
moments. As a companion-picture to the close of Sheridan's own
life, it completes a lesson of the transitoriness of this world , which
might sadden the hearts of the beautiful and gifted , even in their
most brilliant and triumphant hours. Far happier, however, in her
death than he was , she had not only his affectionate voice to soothe
her to the last, but she had one devoted friend, out of the many whom
she had charmed and fascinated , to watch consolingly over her last
struggle , and satisfy her as to the fate of the beloved objects which
she left behind.
" July , ig, 1792.
"Our dear departed friend kept her bed only two days, and seemed
lo suffer less during that interval than for some time before. She was per-
fectly in her senses to the last moment, and talked with the greatest com-
posure of her approaching dissolution ; assuring vis all that she had the
most perfect confidence in the mercies of an all-powerful and merciful
Being , from whom alone she could have derived the inward comfort and
support she felt at that awful moment! She said, she had no fear of death,
and that all her concern arose from the thoughts of leaving so many dear
and tender ties , and of what they would suffer from her loss. Her own
family were at Bath, and had spent one day with her, when she was to-
lerably well. Your poor brother now thought it proper to send for them,
and to flatter them no longer. They immediately came : — it was the
morning before she died. They were introduced one at a time at her bed-
side, and were prepared as much as possible for this sad scene. The
women bore it very well, but all our feelings were awakened for her poor
father. The interview between him and the dear angel was afilicting and
heart-breaking to the greatest degree imaginable. I was afraid she would
have sunk under the cruel agitation :— she said it was indeed too much
for her. She gave some kind injunction to each of them, and said every
thing she could to comfort them under this severe trial. They then
parted , in the hope of seeing her again in the evening, but they never
sa\v her more! Mr. Sheridan and I sat up all that night with her; — in-
deed he had done so for several nights before, and never left her one
moment that could be avoided. About four o'clock in the morning we
perceived an alarming change, and sent for her physician '. She said to
' This physician was Dr. Bain, then a very young man, whose friendship with
Sheridan began by this mournful dnty to his wife , and only ended with the per-
formance of the same melancholy office for himself. As the writer of the abov
letters was not present during the interview which she describes between him an
Mrs. Sheridan, there are a few slight errors in her account of what passed, th
particulars of which, as related by Dr. Bain himself, are as follows: — On hi
arrival, she begged of Sheridan and her female friend to leave the room, an
then, desiring him to lock the door after them, said, "You have never deceive
me: — tell me truly, shall I live over this night." Dr. Bain immediately felt he
pulse, and, finding lhat she was dying, answered, "I recommend you to
some laudanum;" upon which she replied, "I understand you: — then g'r
ane."
Dr. Bain fully concurs with the writer of these letters in bearing testimony to
OF R. B. SHERIDAN. 335
lum, 'If you can relieve me, do it quickly; — if not, do not let me
struggle, Imt give me some laudanum.' His answer was, * Then I will
give you some laudanum.' She desired to see Tom and Betty Tickell be-
fore she took it, of whom she took a most affecting leave ! Your brother
behaved most wonderfully, though his heart was breaking ; and at times
his feelings were so violent, that I feared he would have been quite un-
governable at the last. Yet he summoned up courage to kneel by the bed-
side, till he felt the last pulse of expiring excellence, and then withdrew.
She died at five o'clock in the morning, a8th of June.
" I hope, my dear Mrs. Lefanu, you will excuse my dwelling on this
most agonising scene. I have a melancholy pleasure in so doing", and
fancy it will not be disagreeable to you to hear all , the particulars of an
event so interesting, so afflicting, to all who knew the beloved creature !
For my part, I never beheld such a scene— never suffered such a conflict
— much as I have suffered on my own account. While I live , the remem-
brance of it and the dear lost object can never be effaced from my mind.
" We remained ten days after the event took place at Bristol ; and on
the yth instant Mr. Sheridan and Tom , accompanied by all her family
(except Mrs. Linley), Mr. and Mrs. Leigh, Betty Tickell and myself,
attended the dear remains ' to Wells , where we saw her laid beside her
beloved sister in the Cathedral. The choir attended ; and there was such
a concourse of people of all sorts assembled on the occasion that we could
hardly move along. Mr. Leigh read the service in a most affecting man-
ner. Indeed the whole scene , as you may easily imagine, was awful and
affecting to a very great degree; though the crowd certainly interrupted
the solemnity very-much, and, perhaps , happily for us abated somewhat
of our feelings , which , had we been less observed, would not have been
so easily kept down.
"The day after the sad scene was closed we separated , your brother
chusing to be left by himself with Tom for a day or two. He afterwards
joined us at Bath , where we spent a few days with our friends, the Leighs.
the tenderness and affection that Sheridan evinced on this occasion : — it was, he
says, quite "the devotedness of a lover." The following note, addressed to him
after the sad event was over, does honour alike to the writer and the receiver :—
"My DEAR Sift,
" I mast request your acceptance of the inclosed foryonr professional attend-
ance. For the kind and friendly attentions, which have accompanied your efforts,
I mast remain your debtor. The recollection of them will live in my mind with
the memory of the dear lost ohject , whose sufferings yon soothed , and whose
heart was grateful for it.
"Believe me,
"Dear Sir,
" Very sincerely yours ,
" ft. B. SHERIDAIC."
ft Friday night.
1 The following striking reflection, which I have found upon a scrap of paper,
in Sheridan's hand-writing, was suggested, no donbt , by his feelings on this
occasion :
" The loss of the breath from a beloved object, long suffering in pain and cer-
tainly to die , is not so great a privation as the last loss of her beautiful remains,
if they remain so. The victory of the Grave is sharper than the Sting of Death. '
33G MEMOIRS
Last Saturday we took leave of them , and on Sunday we arrived at Isle-
worth, where, with much regret, I left your brother to his own me-
lancholy reflections , with no other companions but his two children, in
whom he seems at present entirely wrapped up. He suffered a great deal
in returning the same road, and was most dreadfully agitated on his ar-
rival at Isleworth. His grief is deep and sincere , and 1 am sure will be
lasting. He is in very good spirits , and at 'times is even cheerful , but the
moment he is left alone he feels all the anguish of sorrow and regret. The
dear little girl is the greatest comfort to him: — lie cannot bear to be a
moment without her. She thrives amazingly, and is indeed a charming
little creature. Tom behaves with constant and tender attention to his
father : — he laments his dear mother sincerely, and at the time was vio-
lently affected; — but, at his age, the impressions of grief are not lasting ;
and his mind is naturally too lively and cheerful to dwell long on me-
lancholy objects. He is in all respects truly amiable, and in many respects
so like his dear, charming mother, that I am sure he will be ever dear
to my heart. I expect to have the pleasure of seeing Mr. Sheridan again
next week , when I hope to find him more composed than when I took
leave of him last Sunday."
To Ihc mention which is made , in this affecting letter, of the fa-
ther of Mrs. Sheridan, whose destiny it had been to follow to the grave,
within a few short years, so many of his accomplished children ', I
must add a few sentences more from another letter of the same lady,
which, while they increase our interest in this amiable and ingenious
man, bear testimony to Sheridan's attaching powers, and prove how
affectionate he must have been to her who was gone, to be Urns loved
by the father to whom she was so dear : —
"Poor Mr. Linley has been here among us these two months. He is
very much broke, but is still a very interesting and agreeable companion.
I do not know any one more to be pitied than he is. It is evident that
the recollection of past misfortunes preys on his mind 2 , and he has no
1 In 1778 his eldest sou Thomas was drowned , while amusing himself in a
pleasure-boat at the seat of the Duke of Ancaster. The pretty lines of Mrs. Sheridan
to his violin are well known. A few years after, Samuel , a lieutenant in the navy,
was carried off by a fever. Miss Maria Linley died in 1785, and Mrs. Tickell in
1787.
1 have erroneously stated, in a former part of this work, that Mr. William
Linley is the only surviving branch of this family ; — there is another brother,
Mr. Ozias Linley, still living.
2 In the Memoirs of Mrs. Crouch I find the following anecdote :—" Poor Mr.
Linley! after the death of one of his sons,, when seated at the .harpsichord in
Drury-Lane theatre, in order to accompany the vocal parts of an interesting little
piece taken from Prior's Henry and Emma by Mr. Tickell, and excellently repre-
sented by Palmer and Miss Farren, — when the tutor of Henry, Mr. Aikin , gave an
impressive description of a promising young man , in speaking of his pupil
Henry, the feelings of Mr. Linley could not be suppressed. His tears fell fast — nor
did he weep alone."
In the same work Mrs. Crouch is made to say that, after Miss Maria Linley
OF R. B. SHERIDAN. 43?
comfort in the surviving part of his family, they being all scattered
abroad. Mr. Sheridan seems more his child than any one of his own, and
I believe he likes being near him and his grand-children."
Towards the autumn ( as we learn from another letter of this lady )
Mr. Sheridan endeavoured to form a domestic establishment for him-
self at Wanslead.
" Wanslead, Octobers, 1792.
" Your brother has taken a house in this village very near me, where
he means to place his dear little girl, to be as much as possible under my
protection. This was the dying request of my beloved friend; and the
last effort of her mind and pen ' was made the day before she expired ,
to draw up a solemn promise for both of us to sign, to ensure the strict
performance of this last awful injunction : so anxious was she to commit
this dear treasure to my care , well knowing how impossible it would be
for a father, situated as your brother is , to pay that constant attention
to her which a daughter so particularly requires. * * * You may
be assured I shall engage in the task with the greatest delight and
alacrity : — would to God .that I were in the smallest degree qualified
to supply the place of that angelic , all-accomplished mother, "of whose
tender care she has been so early deprived. All I can do for her, I will
do ; and if I can succeed so far as to give her early and steady principles
of religion , and to form her mind to virtue, I shall think my time well
employed, and shall feel myself happy in having fulfilled the first wish
of her beloved mother's heart.
died , it was melancholy for her to sing to Mr. Linley, whose tears continually
fell on the keys as he accompanied her; and if, in the coarse of her profession,
she was obliged to practise a song, which he had been accustomed to hear his
lost daughter sing, the similarity of their manners and their voices, which he had
once remarked with pleasure, then affected him to such a degree, that he was
frequently forced to quit the instrument, and walk about the room to recover his
composure.
1 There are some touching allusions to these last thoughts of Mrs. Sheridan , in
an Elegy, written by her brother, Mr. William Linley, soon after the news of the
sad event reached him in India :—
" Oh most beloved ! my sister and my friend!
While kindred woes still breathe around thine urn ,
Long with the tear of absence must 1 blend
The sigh , that speaks tliou n«ver shall return.
" 'Twas Faith , that, bending o'er the bed of death .
•*. , Snot o'er thy pallid cheek a transient ray,
\\ itli softer effort soothed thy labouring breath ,
Gave grace to anguish , beauty to decay.
•" Thy'fnends , thy children , claim'd thy latest care ;
Theirs was the last that to thy bosom clung-;
For them to heaven thou sent'st the expiring prayer,
The last that falter'd on thy trembling tongue."
338 MEMOIRS
To return to your brother, he talks of having his house here immediately
furnished and made ready for the reception of his nursery. It is a very
good sort of common house, with an excellent garden, roomy and fit
for the purpose , but will admit of HO show or expense. I understand
he has taken a house in Jermyn-Street , where he may see company; hut
he does not intend having any other country-house but this. Isleworth
he gives up , his time being expired there. I believe he has got a private
tutor for Tom— somebody very much to his mind. At one time he talked
of sending him abroad with this gentleman, but I know not at present
what his determinations are. He is too fond of Tom's society to let him
go from him for any time ; but I think it would be more to his advantage
if he would consent to part with him for two or three years. It is im-
possible for any man to be more devotedly attached to his children than
he is , and I hope they will be a comfort and a blessing to him when the
world loses its charms. The last time 1 saw him, which was for about
five minutes, I thought he looked remarkably well, and seemed tolerably
cheerful. But I have observed in general that this affliction lias made a
wonderful alteration in theexpression of his countenance and in his man-
ners '. The Leighs and my family spent a week with him at Jslevvorth
the beginning of August , where we were indeed most affectionately
and hospitably entertained. I could hardly believe him to be the same
man. In fact, we never saw him do the honours of his house before;
that , you know , he always left to the dear, elegant creature , who never
failed to please and charm every one who came within the sphere of her
notice. Nobody could have filled her place so well : — he seemed to have
pleasure in making much ol those whom she loved and who, he knew,
sincerely loved her. \Ve all thought he never appeared to such advan-
tage. He was attentive to every body and every thing, though grave
and thoughtful; and his feelings , poor fellow, often ready to break forth
in spite of his efforts to suppress them. He spent his, evenings mostly by
himself. He desired me, when I wrote , to let you know that she had by
will made a little distribution of what she called "her own property,"
and had left you and your sister rings of remembrance , and \\crfaussc
montrc, containing Mr. Sheridan's picture, to you % — Mrs. Joseph
Lefanu having got hers. She left rings also to Mr. and Mrs. Leigh , my
sister, daughter, and myself, and positively forbids any others being given
on any pretence , but these I have specified, — evidently precluding all her
fine friends from this last mark of her esteem and approbation. She had,
poor thing, with some justice, turned from them all in disgust, and ,
1 observed, during her illness, never mentioned any of them with regard
or kindness."
The consolation which Sheridan derived from his little daughter
1 I have heard a Noble friend of Sheridan say that , happening abont this time-
to sleep in the room next to him , he could plainly hear him sobbing throughout
the greater part of the night.
3 This bequest is thus announced by Sheridan himself, in a letter to his sister,
dated Jnue 3, 1791 : — '• I mean also to scud by Miss Patrick a picture which has
long b^en your properly, by a bequest from one whose image is> not often from
my mind , and whose memory, I ara sure, remains in yours."
OF fi. B. SHERIDAN. 339
was not long spared to him. In a letter, without a dale , from the
same amiable writer, the following account of her death is given : —
" The circumstances attending this melancholy event were particularly
distressing. A large party of young people were assembled at your
brother's to spend a joyous evening in dancing. We were all in the height
of our merriment, — he himself remarkably cheerful, and partaking of
the amusement, when the alarm was given that the dear little angel was
living ! It is impossible to describe the confusion and horror of the scene :
— he was quite frantic , and I knew not what to do. Happily there were
present several kind , good-natured men , who had their recollection ,
and pointed out what should be done. We very soon had every possible
assistance, and for a short time we had some hope that her precious life
would have been spared to us — but that was soon at an end !
' ' The dear babe never throve to my satisfaction : — she was small
and delicate beyond imagination , and gave very little expectation of long
life; but she had visibly declined during the last month. * '* *
Mr. Sheridan made himself very miserable at first , from an apprehension
that she had been neglected or mismanaged ; but I trust he is perfectly
convinced that this was not the case. He was severely afflicted at first.
The dear babe's resemblance to her mother after her death was so much
more striking , that it was impossible to see her without recalling every
circumstance of that afflicting scene , and he was continually in the room
indulging the sad remembrance. In this manner he indulged his feelings
for four or five days; then , having indispensable business, he was obliged
to go to London, from whence he returned, on Sunday, apparently in
good spirits and as well as usual. /But however he may assume the ap-
pearance of ease or cheerfulness, his heart is not of a nature to be
quickly reconciled to the loss of any thing he loves. He suffers deeply
and secretly ; and I dare say he will long and bitterly lament both mother
and child."
The reader will, I think, feel with me, after reading the foregoing
letters, as well as those of Mrs. Sheridan , given in the course of this
work , that the impression which they altogether leave on the mind
is in the highest degree favourable to the characters both of husband
and wife. There is , round the whole , an atmosphere of kindly, do-
mestic feeling, which seems to answer for the soundness of the hearls
that breathed in it. The sensibility, loo , displayed by Sheridan at
this period , was not that sort of passionate return to former feelings ,
which the prospect of losing what it once loved might awaken in
even the most alienated heart ; — on the contrary, there was a depth
and mellowness in his sorrow which could proceed from long habits
of affection alone. The idea, indeed, of seeking solace for the loss
of the mother in the endearments of the children would occur only
to one who had been accustomed to find happiness in his home , and
who therefore clung for comfort to what remained of the wreck.
Such , I have little doubt , we're the natural feelings and disposi-
B40 MEMOIRS
tions of Sheridan ; and if the vanity of talent too often turned him
aside from their influence , it is but another proof of the danger of
that " light which leads astray," and may console those who, safe
under the shadow of mediocrity, are unvisited by such disturbing
splendours.
The following letters on this occasion , from his eldest sister and
her husband , are a further proof of the warm attachment which he
inspired in those connected with him : —
" MY DEADEST BROTHER,
" Charles lias just informed me that the fatal, the dreaded event lias
taken place. On my knees I implore the Almighty to look down upon
you in your affliction , to strengthen your noble, vour feeling heart to
bear it. Oh my beloved brother, these are sad, sad trials of fortitude.
One consolation, at least, in mitigation of your sorrow, I am sure you
possess,— the consciousness of having done all you could to preserve the
dear angel you have lost, and to soften the last painful days of her mortal
existence. Mrs. Canning wrote to me that she was in a resigned and
happv frame of mind : she is assuredly among the blest ; and I feel and 1
think she looks down with benignity at my feeble efforts to soothe that
anguish I participate. Let me then conjure you, my dear brother, to suffer
me to endeavour to b:> of use to you. Could I have done it, I should have
been with you from the time of your arrival at Bristol. The impossibility
of my going lias made me miserable, and injured my health , already in
a very bad state. It would give value to my life, could I be of that service
I think I miglit be of, if I were near you ; and as I cannot go to you ,
and as there is every reason for your quitting the scene and objects be-
fore you, perhaps you may let us have the happiness of having you here,
and my dear Tom : I will write to him when my spirits arc quieter. I
entreat you, my dear brother, trv what change of place can do for you :
your character and talents are here held in the highest estimation ; and
you have here some who love you beyond the affection any in England
can feel for you.
" Cuff-Street, l^th July. " A. LEFANU."
" MY BEAR GOOD SIR , Wednesday, l^th July, 1792.
" Permit me to join my entreaties to Lissy's to persuade you to come
over to us. A journey might be of service to you , and change of objects
a real relief to your mind. We would try every thing to divert your
thoughts from too intensely dwelling on certain recollections, which arc
yet too keen and too fresh to be entertained with safety, — at least to oc-
cupy you too entirely. Having been so long separated from your sister,
you can hardly have an adequate idea of her love for you. I, who on
many occasions have observed its operation, can truly and solemnly
assure you that it far exceeds any thing I could ever have supposed to
have been felt by a sister towards a brother. I am convinced you would
experience such soothing in her companyLand conversation as would
restore you to yourself sooner 'than any tiling tbat could be imagined.
OF R. B. SHERIDAN. 34 1
Come then,, my dear Sir, and he satisfied you \vill add greatly to her
comfort, and to that of your very affectionate friend,
" J. LKFANU."
CHAPTER XVI.
Drurv-Lane Theatre. — Society of " the Friends of the People." — Madame
de Genlis. — War with France. — Whig Seccders — Speeches in Par-
liament.—Death of Tickell.
THE domestic anxieties of Mr. Sheridan, during this year, left but
little room in his mind for public cares. Accordingly, we find that ,
after the month of April , he absented himself from the House of
Commons altogether. In addition to his apprehensions forthe.safely
of Mrs. Sheridan, he had been for some time harassed by the de-
rangement of his theatrical property, which was now fast falling into
a state of arrearand involvement, from which it never after entirely
recovered.
The Theatre of Drury-Lane having been , in the preceding year,
reported by the surveyors to be unsafe and incapable of repair ,
it was determined to erect an entirely new house upon the same site ;
for the accomplishment of which purpose a proposal was made, by
Mr. Sheridan and Mr. Linley, to raise the sum of one hundred and
fifty thousand pounds , by the means of three hundred debentures ,
of five hundred pounds each. This part of the scheme succeeded
instantly ; and I have now before me a list of the holders of the
300 shares , appended to the proposal of 1791 , at the head of which
the names of the three Trustees , in whom the Theatre was after-
wards vested in the year 1793, stand for the following number of
shares : — Albany Wallis , 20 ; Hammersley, 50; Richard Ford, 20.
But , though the money was raised without any difficulty, the com-
pletion of the new building was delayed by various negotiations and
obstacles , while , in the mean time , the company were playing , at
an enormous expense , first in the Opera-House , and afterwards at
the Hay market-Theatre , and Mr. Sheridan and Mr. Linley were
paying interest for the first instalment of the loan.
To these and other causes of the increasing embarrassments of
Sheridan is to be added the extravagance of his own style of living,
which became much more careless and profuse after death had de-
prived him of her, whose maternal thoughlfulness alone would have
been a check upon such improvident waste. We are enabled to
form some idea of his expensive habits , by finding , from the letters
which have just been quoted, that he was, at the same time, main-
taining three establishments, — one at Wanstead, where his son
resided with his tutor ; another at Isleworih , which he still held (as
I learn from letters directed to him there) in 1793, and the third;,
342 MEMOIRS
his town house , in Jermyn-Street. Rich and ready as were the
resources which the Treasury of the theatre opened to him, and fer-
tile as was his own invention in devising new schemes of finance ,
such mismanaged expenditure would exhaust even his magic wealth,
and the lamp must cease to answer to the rubbing at last.
The tutor, whom he was lucky enough to obtain for his son at
this time , was Mr. William Smythe , a gentleman who has since
dislinguished himself by his classical attainments and graceful talent
for poetry. Young Sheridan had previously been under the care of
Dr. Parr, with whom he resided a considerable time at Hatton , and
the friendship of this learned man for the father could not have been
more strongly shown than in the disinterestedness with which he
devoted himself to the education of the son. The following letter
from him to Mr. Sheridan , in the May of this year, proves the kind
feeling by which he was actuated towards him:—
" DEAR SIR,
" I hope Tom got home safe, and found you in better spirits. He said
something about drawing on your banker; but I do not understand the
process, and shall not take any step. You will consult your own conve-
nience about these things; for my connection with you is that of friend-
ship and personal regard. I feel and remember slights from those I res-
pect, but acts of kindness I cannot forget; and, though my life has been
passed far more in doing than receiving services , yet I know and I value
the good dispositions of yourself and a few other friends , — men who are
worthy of that name from me.
" If you choose Tom to return, be knows and you know bow glad I
am always to see him. If not, pray let him do something, and I will tell
you what be should do.
" Believe me, dear Sir,
" Yours sincerely,
" S. PARR."
In the spring of this year was established the Society of " The
Friends of the People," for the express purpose of obtaining a Par-
liamentary Reform. To this Association , which , less for its professed
object than for the republican tendencies of some of its members ,
was particularly obnoxious to the loyalists of the day, Mr. Sheridan,
Mr. Grey , and many others of the leading persons of the Whig
party, belonged. Their Address to the People of England, which was
put forth in the month of April, contained an able and temperate
exposition of the grounds upon which they sought for Reform-, and
the names of Sheridan , Mackintosh, Whitbread, etc. , appear on the
list of the Committee by which this paper was drawn up.
It is a proof of the little zeal which Mr. Fox felt at this period on
the subject of Reform, that he withheld the sanction of his name
OF R. B. SHERIDAN. »43
from a Society to \vhich so many of his most intimate political friends
belonged. Some notice was, indeed, taken in the House of this
symptom of backwardness in the cause ; and Sheridan, in replying
to the insinuation , said that " they wanted not the signature of his
Right Honourable Friend to assure them of his concurrence. They
had his bond in the steadiness of his political principles and the
integrity of his heart. " Mr. Fox himself, however, gave a more de-
tinite explanation of the circumstance. " He might be asked," he
said , " why his name was not on the list of the Society for Reform?
His reason was, that though he saw great and enormous griev-
ances, he did not see the remedy.1' It is to be doubted, indeed, whe-
ther Mr. Fox ever fully admitted the principle upon which the de-
mand for a Reform .was founded. When he afterwards espoused the
question so warmly, it seems to have been merely as one of those
weapons caught up in the heat of a warfare, in which Liberty itself
appeared to him too imminently endangered to admit of the consi-
deration of any abstract principle , except that summary one of the
right of resistance to power abused. From what has been already
said, too, of the language held by Sheridan on this subject, it may
be concluded that, though far more ready than his friend to in-
scribe Reform upon the banner of the parly, he had even still less
made up his mind as to the practicability or expediency of the
measure. Looking upon it, as a question, the agitation of which
was useful to Liberty, and at the same time counting upon the im-
probability of its objects being ever accomplished, he adopted at
once , as we have seen , the most speculative of all the plans that
had been proposed , and flattered himself that he thus secured the
benefit of the general principle, without risking the inconvenience
of any of the practical details.
The following extract of a letter from Sheridan to one of hjs fe-
male correspondents , at this time , will show that he did not
quite approve the policy of Mr. Fox in 'holding aloof from the
Reformers : —
" I am down here with Mrfe. Canning and her family, while all my
friends and party are meeting in town, where I have excused myself, to
lay their wise heads together in this crisis. Again I say there is nothing
hut what is unpleasant before my mind. I wish to occupy, and fill my
thoughts with public matters, and, todo justice to the times, they afford
materials enougb ; but nothing is in prospect to make activity pleasant,
or to poiut one's clTorts against one common enemy, making all that
engage in the attack cordial, social, and united : on the contrary, every
day produces some new schism and absurdity. \Vindbam lias signed a
nonsensical association with Lord Mulgrave; and when I left towu
•vestcrday, I was informed lliat the Divan, as the meeting at Dcbrett's is
(.died, were furious at an aulhenltc advertisement from the Duke of
344 MEMOIRS
Portland against Charles Fox's speech in the Whig Club, which no one
before believed to be genuine , but which they now say Dr. Lawrence
brought from Burlington-House. If this is so, depend on it there will be
a direct breach in what has been called the Whig Party. Charles Fox
must come to the Reformers openly and avowedly ; and in a month four-
fifths of the whig Club will do the same."
The motion for the Abolition of the Slave-trade, brought forward
this year by Mr. Wilberforce, (on whose brows it may be said, with
much more truth than of the Roman General , " Annexuit Africa
lauros"} was signalised by one of the most splendid orations that
the lofty eloquence of Mr. Pitt ever poured forth ' . I mention the
Debate, however, for the mere purpose of remarking , as a singu-
larity, that, often as this great question was discussed in Parliament,
and ample as was the scope which it afforded for the grander appeals
of oratory, Mr. Sheridan was upon no occasion tempted to utter even
a syllable on the subject, — except once for a few minutes, in the
year 1787, upon some point relating to the attendance of a witness.
The two or three sentences, however, which he did speak on that
occasion were sufficient to prove (what, as he was not a West-India
proprietor, no one can doubt, ) that the sentiments entertained by
him on this interesting topic were, to the full extent , those which
actuated not only his own party, but every real lover of justice and
humanity throughout the world. To use a quotation which he him-
self applied to another branch of the question in 1807 : —
" I would not have a slave to till my ground,
To fan me when I sleep , and tremble when
I wake, for all that human sinews, bought
And sold, have ever earu'd."
The National Convention having lately , in the first paroxysm of
their republican vanity, conferred the honour of Citizenship upon
several distinguished Englishmen, and, among others, upon
Mr. Wilberforce and Sir James Mackintosh , it was intended , as
appears by the following letter from Mr. Stone, (a gentleman sub-
sequently brought into notice by the trial of his brother for High
Treason , ) to invest Mr. Fox and Mr. Sheridan with the same dis-
tinction , had not the prudent interference of Mr. Stone saved them
from this very questionable honour.
The following is the letter which this gentleman addressed to
Sheridan on the occasion.
1 It was at tlie conclusion of this speech that, iu contemplating the period when
Africa would, he hoped, participate in those blessings of civilisation and knowledge
which were now enjoyed by more fortunate regions, he applied the happy quota-
tion, rendered still more striking, it is said, by the circumstance of ihe rising su-ik
jnst then shining in through the windows of the House: —
" Nos. , . . primus eqitis Oriens af'flavit anhelis,
Jllic sera rulens accciulit lamina Pesitf."
OF R. B. SHERIDAN. 345
Paris, Nov. 18. Year I. of the French Republic.
"DEAR SIR,
" I have taken a liberty with your name, of which I ought to give you
notice , and offer some apology, The Convention, having lately enlarged
their connections in Europe, are ambitious of adding to the number of
their friends by bestowing some mark of distinction on those who have
stood forth in support of their cause when its fate hung doubtful. The
French conceive that they owe this obligation very eminently to you and
Mr. Fox; and, to show their gratitude, the Committee appointed to make
the Report has determined to offer to you and Mr. Fox the honour of
Citizenship. Had this honour never been conferred before, had it been
conferred only on worthy members of society, or were you and Mr. Fox
only to be named at this moment, I should not have interfered. But as
they have given the title to obscure and vulgar men and 'scoundrels, of
which they are now very much ashamed themselves, I have presumed to
suppose that you would think yourself much more honoured in the
breach than the observance , and have therefore caused your nomination
to be suspended. But I was influenced in this also by other considera-
tions, of which one was, that, though the Committee would be more
careful in their selection than the last had been, yet it was probable you
would not like to share the honours with such as would be chosen. But
another more important one that weighed with me was , that this new
character would not be a small embarrassment in the route which you
have to take the next session of Parliament, when the affairs of France
must necessarily be often the subject of discussion. No one will suspect
Mr. A\ ilberforce of being seduced, and no one has thought that he did
any thing to render him liable to seduction ; as his superstition and de-
votedness to Mr. Pitt have kept -him perfectly a I'abri from all tempta-
tions to err on the side of liberty, civil or religious. But to you and Mr. Fox
the reproach will constantly be made, and the blockheads and knaves in
the House will always have the means of influencing the opinions of those
without, by opposing with success your English character to your French
one ; and that which is only a mark of gratitude for past services , will be
construed by malignity into a bribe of some sort for services yet to be
rendered. You may be certain that, 'in offering the reasons for my con-
duct, I blush that I think it necessary to stoop to such prejudices. Of
this, however, you will be the best judge, and I should esteem it a
favour if you would inform me whether I have done right , or whether I
shall suffer your names to stand as they did before my interference. There
will be sufficient time for me to receive your answer, as I have prevailed
on the Reporter, Mr. Brissot, to delay a few days. I have given him my
reasons for wishing the suspension, to which he has assented. Mr. O'Brien
also prompted me to this deed, and, if I have done wrong, he must
take half the punishment. My address 'is, "Rose, Huissier,." under cover
of the President of the National Convention.
" I have the honour to be
" Your most obedient
" And most humble servant,
" J. H. STOME."
346 MEMOIRS
It was in the month of October of this year that the romantic ad-
venture of Madame de Genlis (in the contrivance of which the prac-
tical humour of Sheridan may, I think, be delected,) occurred on
the road between London and Darlford. This distinguished lady had,
at the close of the year 1791 , with a view of escaping the turbu-
lent scenes then passing in France , come over with her illustrious
pupil, Mademoiselle d'Orleans, and her adopted daughter, Pa-
mela1, to England, where she received, both from Mr. Fox and
Mr. Sheridan, all that attention which her high character for talent,
as well as the embarrassing nature of her situation at that moment,
claimed for her.
The following letter from her to Mr. Fox I find inclosed in one
from the latter to Mr. Sheridan : —
"SlB,
"You have, by your infinite kindness, given me the right to show you
the utmost confidence. The situation I am in makes me desire to have
with me, during two days, a person perfectly well instructed in the
Laws, and very sure and honest. I desire sucVi a person that 1 could ofler
to him all the money he would have for this trouble. But there is not a
moment to be lost on the occasion. If you could send me directly this
person, you would render me the most important service. To calm the
most cruel agitation of a sensible and grateful soul shall be your reward.
— Oh could I see you but a minute ! — I am uneasy, sick , unhappy ; sur-
rounded by tbc most dreadful snares of the fraud and wickedness ; I am
intrusted with the most interesting and sacred charge! - — All these are
my claims to hope your advices, protection and assistance. My friends
are absent in that moment; there is only two names in which I could
place my confidence and my hopes. Pardon this bad language. As Hypo-
lite I may say ,
" ' Songe: queje >vous parle une langue etrangere ,
but the feelings it expresses cannot be strangers to your heart.
" Sans avoir 1'avantage d'etre connue de Monsieur Fox, je prends la
liberte dc le supplier de communique!' cette Tetti-e a Monsieur Sheridan;
1 Married at Tournay in the mouth of Decemher, 1792, to Lord Edward Fitz-
gerald. Lord Edward was the only one, among the numerous suitors of Mrs. She-
ridan, to whom she is supposed to have listened with any thing like a return of
feeling; and that there should be mutual admiration hetween two such noble spe-
cimens of human nature, it is easy, without injury to either of them , to believe.
Some months before her death, when Sheridan had been describing to her
and Lord Edward a beantihil French girl whom he had lately seen, and added
that she pnt him strongly in mind of what his own wife had been in the first
bloom of her youth and beauty, Mrs. Sheridan turned to Lord Edward, and said
with a melancholy smile, "I should like you, when I am dead, to marry that
girl." This was Pamela, whom Sheridan had just seen during his visit of a few
hours to Madatne de Genlis at Bury, in Suffolk, and whom Lord Edward married
in about a year after.
OF R. B. SHERIDAN. 347
et si ce dernier n'est pas a Londres, j'ose esperer de Monsieur Fox la memo
bonte que j'attcndois de Monsieur Sheridan dans I'embarras ou je me
trouve. Je m'adresse aux deux personnes de 1'Angleterre qne j'admire le
plus , et je serois doublement heureuse d'etre tiree de cette perplexite, et
de leur en avoir 1'obligation. Je serai peut-etre a Londres incessamment.
Je desirerois vivement les y trouver ; mais en attendant je souhaite avec
ardeur avoir ici le plus promptement possible 1'homme de loi, ou seu-
lement en etat de donner de bons conseils que je demande. Je renou-
velle toutes mes excuses de tant d'importunites." ',
It was on her departure for France in the present year that the
celebrated adventure, to which I have alluded , occurred , and as it
is not often that the post-boys between London and Dartford are
pomoted into agents of mystery or romance , I shall give the entire
narrative of the event in the lady's own words, — premising (what
Mr. Sheridan , no doubt , discovered) that her imagination had been
for some time on the watch for such incidents , as she mentions , in
another place , her terrors at the idea of " crossing the desert plains
of Newmarket without an escort."
" We left London, "says Madame deGenlis, "on our return to France
the aoth of October, 1792 , and a circumstance occurred to us so extraor-
dinary, that I ought not, I feel, to pass it over in silence. I shall merely,
however, relate the fact , without any attempt to explain it, or without
adding to my recital any of those reflections which the impartial reader
will easily supply. We set out at ten o'clock in the morning in two car-
riages, one with six horses, and the other, in which, were our maids,
with four. I had, two months before, sent off four of my servants to
Paris, so that we had with us only one French servant, and a footman ,
whom we had hired to attend us as far as Dover. When we were about
a quarter of a league from London, the French servant, who had nearer
made the journey from Dover to London but once before, thought he
perceived that we were not in the right road, and on his making the re-
mark to me, I perceived it also. The postillions, on being' questioned,
said that they had only wished to avoid a small hill , and that they would
soon return into the high road again. After an interval of three quarters
of an hour , seeing that we still continued our way through a country
that was entirely new to me, I again interrogated both the footman and
the postillions, and they repeated their assurance that we should soon
regain the usual road.
"Notwithstanding this, however , we still pursued our course with
extreme rapidity , in the same unknown route ; and as I had remarked
that the post-boys and footman always answered me in a strange sort of
laconic manner, and appeared as if they were afraid to stop , my compa-
nions and I began to look at each other with a mixture of surprise and
uneasiness. We renewed our enquiries, and at last they answered that it
was indeed true they had lost their way , but that they had wished to
conceal it from us till they had found the cross-road to Dartford (our
first stage), and that now, having been for an hour and a half in that
road, we had lint two miles to go tefore1 we should reach Dartford. It
34ft MEMOIRS
appeared to us very strange that people should lose their way between
London and Dover, but the assurance that we were only half a league
from Dartford dispelled the sort of vague fear that had for a moment agi-
tated us. At last, after nearly an hour had elapsed, seeing that we still
were not arrived at the end of the stage, our uneasiness increased to a
degree which amounted even to terror. It was with much difficulty that I
made the post-boys stop opposite a small village which lav to our left; in
spite of my shouts they still went on, till at last the French servant (for
the other did not interfere ) compelled them to stop. I then sent to the
village to ask how far we were from Dartford, and my surprise may be
guessed when I received for answer that we were now 22 miles ( more
than seven leagues) distant from that place. Concealing my suspicions , I
took a guide in the village , and declared that it was my wish to return to
London, as I found I was now at a less distance from that city than from
Dartford. The post-boys made much resistance to my desire, and even
behaved w ith an extreme degree of insolence , but our French servant ,
backed by the guide , compelled them to obey.
" As we returned at a very slow pace, owing to the sulkiness of die
post-boys and the fatigue of the horses, we did not reach London before
night-fall, when I immediately drove to Mr. Sheridan's house. He was
extremely surprised to see me returned , and on my relating to him our
adventure , agreed with us that it could not have been the result of mere
chance. He then sent for a Justice of the Peace to examine the post-boys,
who were detained till his arrival under the pretence of calculating their
account; — but, in the meantime, the hired footman disappeared and
never returned. The post-boys being examined by the Justice according
to the legal form , and in the presence of witnesses , gave their answers
in a verv confused way, but confessed that an unknown gentleman had
conic in the morning to their master's, and carrying them from thence
to a public-house, had, by giving them something to drink, persuaded
them to take the road by which we had gone. The examination was con-
tinued for a long time, but no further confession could be drawn from
them. Mr. Sheridan told me, that there was sufficient proof on which to
ground an action against these men, but that it would be a tedious pro-
cess, and cost a great deal of money. The post-boys were therefore dis-
missed, and we did not pursue the enquiry any farther. As Mr. Sheridan
saw the terror 1 was in at the very idea of again venturing on the road to
Dover, he promised to accompany us thither himself, but added that ,
having some indispensable business on his hands, he could not go for
some days. He took us then to Isleworth , a country-house which he had
near Richmond, on the banks of the Thames, and as he was not able to
dispatch his business so quickly as he expected, we rem ined for a month
in that hospitable retreat, which both gratitude and friendship rendered
so agreeable to us."
It is impossible to read this narrative , with the recollection , at
Ihe same time, in our minds of the boyish propensity of Sheridan
to what are called practical jokes, without strongly suspecting that
he was himself the contriver of the whole-adventure. The ready at-
tendance of the Justice, — the " unknown gentleman " deposed to.
OF R. B. SHERIDAN. 349
by the post-boys, —the disappearance of the laquais, and the ad-
\ice given by Sheridan that the affair should be pursued no further,
—all strongly savour of dramatic contrivance , and must have af-
forded a scene not a little trying to the gravity of him who took the
trouble of getting it up. With respect to his motive, the agreeable
month at his country-house sufficiently explains it ; nor could his
conscience have felt much scruple about an imposture, which , so
far from being attended with any disagreeable consequences , fur-
nished the lady with an incident of romance, of which she was but
too happy to avail herself, and procured for him the presence of
such a distinguished party, to grace and enliven the festivities of
Isleworth l.
At the end of the month (adds Madame de Genlis),
" Mr. Sheridan having finished , we set off together for Dover, himself,
his son , and an English friend of his , Mr. Reid , with whom I was but a
few days acquainted. It was now near the end of the month of Novem-
ber, 1792. The wind being adverse , detained us for five days at Dover,
during all which time Mr. Sheridan remained with us. At last the wind
grew less unfavourable, but stiH blew so violently that nobody would
advise me to embark. I resolved, however, ta venture, and Mr. Sheridan
attended us into the very packet-boat, where I received his farewell with
a feeling of sadness which I cannot express. He w"buld have crossed with
us but that some indispensable duty , at that moment, required-his pre-
sence in England. He, however, left us Mr. Reid, who had the goodness
to accompany us to Paris."
In 1793 war was declared between England and France. Though
hostilities might , for a short time longer, have been avoided , by a
more accommodating readiness in listening to the overtures of France,
and a less stately tone on the part of the English negotiator , there
could hardly have existed in dispassionate minds any hope of avert-
ing the war entirely, or even of postponing it for any considerable
period. Indeed, however rational at first might have been the ex-
pectation , that France , if left to pass through the ferment of her
own Revolution , would have either settled at last into a less dan-
gerous form of power, or exhausted herself into a stale of harmless-
1 In the Memoirs of Madame de( Genlis, lately published , she supplies a slill
more interesting key to his motives for such a contrivance. It appears, from the
new recollections of this lady, that "he was passionately in love with Pamela,"
and that, before her departure from England , the following scene took pl.ice : —
" Two days before we set out , Mr. Sheridan made , in my presence, his declaration
<>f love to Pamela, who was affected .by bis agreeable manner and high character,
.UK! accepted the offer of his hand with pleasure. In consequence of this , it was
settled that he was to marry her on onr return from France , which was expected
to take place in a fortnight.'1 1 suspect this to be bat a continuation of the Romance
ofDartford.
350 MEMOIRS
ness during the process, this hope had been for some time frustrated
by the crusade proclaimed against her libciiies by the confederated
Princes of Europe. The conference at Pilnilz and the Manifesto of
the Duke of Brunswick had taught the French people what they
were to expect , if conquered , and had given to that inundation of
energy, under which the Republic herself was sinking, a vent and
direction outwards that transferred all the ruin to her enemies. In
the wild career of aggression and lawlessness , of conquest w ithout
and anarchy within , which naturally followed such an outbreak
of a whole maddened people , il would have been difficult for Eng-
land, by any management whatever, to keep herself uninvolved
in the general combustion, — even had her own population been
much less heartily disposed than they were then , and ever have
been , to strike in with (he great discords of the world.
That Mr. Pitt himself was slow and reluctant to yield to the ne-
cessity of hostile measures against France , appears from the whole
course of his financial policy, down to the very close of the session
of 1792. The confidence , indeed , with which he looked forward
to a long continuance of peace , in the midst of events that were
audibly the first mullerings of the earthquake , seemed but little
indicative of that philosophic sagacity, which enables a statesman
to see tiic rudiments of the Future in the Present '. " It is not un-
reasonable ," said he on the 21st of February, 1792, " to expect
that the peace which we now enjoy should continue at least fifteen
years , since at no period of the British history, whether we consi-
der the internal situation of this kingdom or its relation to foreign
powers , has the prospect of war been farther removed than at
present."
In pursuance of this feeling of security, he, in the course of the
session of 1791-2 , repealed taxes to the amount of 200,0007. a-year
made considerable reductions in the naval and military establish-
ments, and allowed the Hessian Subsidy to expire, without any
movement towards its renewal. He likewise showed his perfect
confidence in the tranquillity of the country, by breaking off a
negotiation into which he had entered with the holders of the four
per cents. , for the reduction of their stock to three per cent. ,—
1 From the following words in his Speech on the communication from France
in 1800, he appears, himself, to have been aware of his want of foresight at the
commencement of the war : —
" Besides this, the redaction of oar Peace Establishment in the year 1791, and
continaed to the subsequent year, is a fact, from which the inference is indispu-
table; a fact, which , I am afraid, shows not only that we were not waiting for the
occasion of war, but that, in our partiality for a pacific system , we had indulged
ourselves in a fond and credulous security, which wisdom and discretion would not
have dictated."
OF R. B. SHERIDAN. 351
saying, in answer to their demand of a larger bonus than he thought
proper to give, " Then we will put off the reduction of this stock
till next year/' The truth is, Mr. Pitt was proud of his financial
system ;— the abolition of taxes and the Reduction of the National
Debt were the two great results to which he looked as a proof oJ'
its perfection ; and while a war, he knew, would produce the very
reverse of the one , it would leave little more than the name and
semblance of the other.
The alarm for the safety of their establishments, which at Ibis
time pervaded the great mass of the people of England , carried the
proof of its own needlessness in the wide extent to which it spread,'
and the very small minority that was thereby left to be the object of
apprehension, ^hat in this minority, (which was , with few excep-
tions , confined to the lower classes , the elements of sedition and '
insurrection were actively at work , cannot be denied. There was
not a corner of Europe where the same ingredients were not
brought into ferment ; for the French Revolution had not only the
violence, but the pervading influence of the Simoom, 'and while
it destroyed where it immediately passed, made itself felt every
where. But surrounded and watched as were the few disaffected
in England, by all the rank, property and power of the country,
—animated at that moment by a more than usual portion of
loyalty , — the dangers from sedition , as yet , were by no means
either so deep or extensive , as that a strict and vigilant exercise of
the laws already in being would not have been abundantly adequate
to all the purposes of their supp ression.
The admiration , in«teed , with which the first dawn of the Revo-
lution was hailed had considerably abated. The excesses into which
the new Republic broke loose had alienated the worship of most of
its higher class of votaries, and in some, as in Mr. Windham , had
converted enthusiastic admiration into horror ,- — so that , though
a strong sympathy with the general cause of the Revolution was
still felt among the few Whigs that remained , the profession of its
wild, republican theories was chiefly confined to two classes of
persons , who coincide more frequently than they themselves ima-
gine,.—the speculative and the ignorant.
The* Minister, however, gave way to a panic which, there is
every reason to believe , he did not himself participate , and in
uoiim out of the precincts of the Constitution for new and arbitrary
powers , established a series of fatal precedents , of which alarmed
Authority will be always but too ready to avail itself. By these
stretches of power he produced — what was far more dangerous than
all the raving of club politicians — that vehement reaction of feeling
on the part of Mr. Fox and his followers, which increased with the
354 MEMOIRS
increasing rigour of Ihe government, and sometimes led them to
the brink of such modes and principles of opposition , as aggressions
so wanton upon liberty alone could have either provoked or jus-
tified.
The great promoters of the alarm were Mr. Burke , and those
other Whig Seceders , who had for some time taken part with the
adminislralion against their former friends , and, as is usual with
such proselytes, outran those whom they joined, on every point
upon which they before most differed from them. To justify their
defection, the dangers upon which they grounded it, were exag-
gerated •, and the eagerness with which they called for restric-
tions upon the liberty of the subject was but loo worthy of desert-
ers not only from their post but from their principled One striking
difference between these new pupils of Toryism and their master was
with respect to the ultimate object of the war, — Mr. Pitt being of
opinion that security against the power of France, without any inter-
ference whatever with her internal affairs , was the sole aim to which
hostilities should be directed 5 while nothing less than the restoration
of the Bourbons to the power which they possessed before the as-
sembling of the Etats Generaux could satisfy Mr. Burke and his
fellow converts to the cause of Thrones and Hierarchies. The effect
of this diversity of objects upon the conduct of the war — particularly
after Mr. Pitt had added to " Security for the future," the suspi-
cious supplement of " Indemnity for the past " — was no less fatal
to the success of operations abroad than to the unity of councils at
home. So separate , indeed, were the views of the two parlies con-
sidered , that the unfortunate expedition , in aid of the Vendean
insurgents in 1795 , was known to be peculiarly the measure of the
Burke part of the cabinet , and to have been undertaken on the sole
responsibility of their ministerial organ , Mr. Windham.
It must be owned, too, that the object of the Alarmists in the
war however grossly inconsistent with their former principles, had
the merit of being far more definite than that of Mr. Pitt ; and ,
had it been singly and consistently pursued from the first, with all
the vigour and concentration of means so strenuously recommended
by Mr. Burke , might have justified its quixotism in the end by a
more speedy and less ruinous success. As it was, however, the
divisions , jealousies and alarms which Mr. Pitt's views towards a
future dismemberment of France excited not only among the Con-
tinental powers , but among the French themselves , completely
defeated every hope and plan for either concert without, or co-
operation within. At the same time , the distraction of the efforts
of England from the heart of French power to its remote extremi-
ties, in what Mr. Windham called "a war upon sugar-islands,"
OF R. B. SHERIDAN. »53
was a waste of means as unslalesman-likc as it was calamitous , and
fully entitled Mr. Pitt to the satire on his policy conveyed in the
remark of a certain distinguished lady, who said to him , upon
hearing of some new acquisition in the West Indies , " I protest ,
Mr. Pitt, if you go on thus, you will sqon be master of every is-
land in the world , except just those two little ones , England and
Ireland '.'n
That such was the light in which Mr. Sheridan himself viewed
the mode of carrying on the war recommended by the Alarmists ,
in comparison with that which Mr. Pitt in general adopted , appears
from the following passage in his speech upon Spanish affairs in the
year 1808 :— -
" There was hardly a person, except his Right Honourable Friend
near him ("Mr. Windham) and Mr. Burke, who since the Revolution
of France had formed adequate notions of the necessary steps to he
taken. The various governments which this country -had seen during
that period were always employed in filching for a silgar-island , or some
other object of comparatively trifling moment, while the main and prin-
cipal purpose was lost and forgotten."
Whatever were the failures of Mr. Pitt abroad , at home his ascen-
dancy w&s fixed and indisputable •, and , among all the triumphs of
power which he enjoyed during his career, the tribute now paid to
him by the Whig Aristocracy, in taking shelter under his ministry
from the dangers of Revolution , could not have been the least grati-
fying to his haughty spirit. The India Bill had ranged on his side the
King and the People , and the Revolution now brought to his banner
the flower of the Nobility of both parties. His own estimate of rank
may be fairly collected both from the indifference which he showed
to its honours himself, and from the depreciating profusion with
which he lavished piem upon others. It may be doubted whether
his respect for Aristocracy was much increased, by the Readiness
which he now saw in some of his high-born opponents to volunteer
for safety into his already powerful ranks , without even pausing to
Iry the experiment , whether safely might not have been rcconcileablc
with principle in their own. It is certain that , without the accession
of so much weight and influence , he never could have ventured
upon the violations of the Constitution that followed — nor would the
Opposition , accordingly, have Beeji driven by these excesses of
power into that reactive violence which was the natural consequence
of an effort to resist them. The prudent apprehensions , therefore ,
of these Noble Whigs would have been much more usefully as well
as honourably employed , in mingling with , and moderating the
' Mr. Sheridan quoted this anecdote in one of his speeches in 1794.
23
354 MEMOIRS
proceedings of the friends of Liberty, than in ministering fresh fuel
to the zeal and vindictiveness of her enemies '.
It may be added , too , that in allowing themselves to be per-
suaded by Burke , that the extinction of the anliont Noblesse of
France portended necessarily any danger to the English Aristocracy,
these Noble persons did injustice to the strength of their own order,
and to the characteristics by which it is proudly distinguished from
every other race of Nobility in Europe. Placed , as a sort of break-
water between the People and the Throne, in a stale of double res-
ponsibility to liberty on one side , and authority on the other, the
Aristocracy of England hold a station which is dignified by its own
great duties and of which the titles transmitted by their ancestors form
the least important ornament. Unlike the Nobility of other countries,
where the rank and privileges of the father are multiplied through his
offspring , and equally elevate them all above the level of the com-
munity, the very highest English Nobleman must consent to be the
father but of commoners. Thus , connected with the class bolow him
by private as well as public sympathies , he gives his children to the
People as hostages for the sincerity of his zeal in their cause — while
on the other hand , the People , in return for these pledges of the
Aristocracy, sends a portion of its own elements aloft into that higher
region , to mingle with its glories and assert their claim to share in
its power. By this mutual transfusion an equilibrium is preserved ,
like that which similar processes maintain in the natural world ; and
while a healthy, popular feeling circulates through the Aristocracy,
a sense of their own station in the scale elevates the People.
To tremble for the safety of a Nobility so constituted, without
much stronger grounds for alarm than appear to have existed in
179,3, was an injustice not only to that class itself, but the whole
nation. The world has never yet afforded an example, where this
artificial distinction between mankind has been turned to such bcne-
licial account ; and as no monarchy can exist without such an order,
so , in any other shape than this , such an order is a burden and a
1 The case against these Noble Seceders is thus spiritedly stated by Lord
Moira: —
'' I cannot ever sit in a cabinet with the Duke of Portland. He appears to me
to have done more injury to the Constitution, and to the estimation of the
higher ranks in this country, than any man on the political sfage. F>y his union
with Mr. Pitt , he has given it to be understood by the people, that either all ihe
constitutional charges which he ;ind his friends for so many years urged 'against
Mr. Pitt were groundless, or that, being solid, there was no difficulty in waiving
them when a convenient partition of powers and emoluments was proposed. In
either case the people must infer that the constilntional principle which can be
so played with is unimportant, and that parliamentary professions are no security."
Letter from the Earl of Moira to Colonel M'Mahon, in 17!)7. Parliamentary
History. '.•.•-+"
OF fi. B. SHERIDAN. 3S5
nuisance. In England, so happy a conformation of her Aristocracy
is one of those fortuitous results which time and circumstances have
brought out in the long tried experiment of her Constitution ; and,
while there is no chance of its being ever again attained in the old
World, there is but little probability of its being attempted in the Naw,
— where the youthful nations now springing into life , will , if they
;irc wise , make the most of the free career before them , and unen-
cumbered with the costly trappings of feudalism , adopt , like their
northern neighbours , that form of government , whose simplicity
and cheapness are the best guarantees for its efficacy and purity.
In judging of the policy of Mr. Pitt, during the Revolutionary
war, his partizans, we know, laud it as having been the means
of salvation to England , while his opponents assert that it was only
prevented by chance from being her ruin — and though the event'
gives an appearance of triumph to the former opinion , it by no
means removes or even weakens the grounds of the latter. During
the first nine years of his administration , Mr. Pitt was , in eveYy
respect , an able and most useful minister, and , " while the sea was
calm , showed mastership in floating." But the great events that hap-
pened afterwards took him by surprise. When he came to look
abroad from his cabinet into the storm that was brewing through
Europe , the clear and enlarged view of the higher order of states-
man was wanting. Instead of elevating himself above the influence
of the agitation and alarm that prevailed , he gave way to it with the
crowd of ordinary minds , and even look counsel from the panic of
others. The consequence was a series of measures , violent at home
and inefficient abroad — far short of the mark where vigour was
wanting , and beyond it, as often , where vigour was mischievous.
When we are told to regard his policy as the salvation of the coun-
try— when (to use. a figure of Mr. Dundas) a claim of salvage is
made for him ,— it may be allowed us to consider a little the nature
of the measures , by which this alleged salvation was achieved. If
entering into a great war without either consistency of plan , or pre-
paration 4)f means , and with a total ignorance of the financial re-
sources of the enemy ' — if allowing one part of the Cabinet to flatter
the French Royalists , with the hope of seeing the Bourbons restored
to undiminished power, while the other part acted whenever an
opportunity offered, upon the plan of dismembering France for the
aggrandizement of Austria, and thus, at once, alienated Prussia at
tlu- very moment of subsidizing him, and lost the confidence of all
Ihe Royalist party in Fratfce2, except the few who were ruined by
1 Into his erroneous calculations upon ibis point he is supposed to have beeu
led by Str Francis D'lvernois.
' Among other instances, the Abbe MaurJ is reported to have said at Rome.
35« MEMOIKS
English assistance alQuiberon — if going to war in 1793 for the right
of the Dutch to a river , and so managing it that in 1794 the Dutch
lost their .whole Seven Provinces— if lavishing more money upon
failures than the successes of a century had cost , and supporting this
profusion by schemes of finance , either hollow and delusive , like the
Sinking Fund , or desperately regardless of the future , like the paper
issues— if driving Ireland into rebellion by the perfidious recall of
Lord Fitzwilliam , and reducing England to two of the most fearful
trials that a nation , depending upon Credit and a navy , could en-
counter, the stoppage of her Bank and a mutiny in her fleet — if,
finally , floundering on from effort to effort against France , and then
dying upon the ruins of the last Coalition lie could muster against
her — if all this betokens a wise and able minister, then is Mr. Pitt
most amply entitled to that name ; — then are the lessons of wisdom
to be read , like Hebrew , backward , and waste and rashness and
systematic failure to be held the only true means of saving a country.
Had even success , by one of those anomalous accidents , which
sometimes baffle the best founded calculations of wisdom, been the
immediate result of this long monotony of error, it could not, ex-
cept with those to whom the event is every thing — Ci Eventus ,
stultoriun rnagirter1 " — reflect back merit upon the means by which
it was achieved, or, by a retrospective miracle, convert that into
wisdom , which chance had only saved from the worst consequences
of folly. Just as well might we be called upon to pronounce Al-
chemy a wise art, because a perseverance in its failures and reveries
had led by accident to (he discoveries of Chemistry. But even this
sanction of good-luck was wanting to the unredeemed mistakes of
Mr. Pitt. During the eight years that intervened between his death
and the termination of the contest , the adoption of a far wiser po-
licy was forced upon his more tractable pupils ; and the only share
that his measures can claim in the successful issue of the war , is that
of having produced the grievance that was then abated — of having
raised up the power opposed to him to the portentous and dizzy
height from which it then fell by the giddiness of its own elevation2,
and by the reaction , not of the Princes, but the People of Europe
against its yoke.
What would have been the course of affairs, both' foreign and
domestic, had Mr. Fox— as was, at one time, not improbable
in a large company of bis countrymen—" Still we have on^ remedy — let us not
allow France to be divided — we have seen the partition of EoJUnd : we must all
turn Jacobins to preserve onr counter."
1 A saying of the wise Fabins.
" summisque negatum
Stare diu" — LUCAS.
OF K. B. SHERIDAN. 357
— been the Minister during this period , must be left to that super-
human knowledge, which the schoolmen call "Media scientia"
and which consists in knowing all that -would have happened , had
events been otherwise than they have been: It is probable that some
of the results would not have been so different -as the respective
principles of Mr. Pitt and Mr. Fox might naturally lead us, on the
first thought, to assert. If left to himself, there is little doubt that
the latter, from the simple and fearless magnanimity of his nature,
would have consulted for the public safety , with that moderation
which true courage inspires ; and that, even had it been necessary
to suspend the Constitution fto1 a season , he would have known how
to veil the statue of Liberty1, without leaving , like his rival, such
marks of mutilation on its limbs. But it is to be recollected that he
would have had to encounter , in his own ranks , the very same pa-
trician alarm , which could even to Mr. Pitt give an increase of mo-
mentum against liberty , and which the possession oR power would
have rendered but more sensitive and arbitrary. Accustomed, too,
as he had long been, to yield to the influence of Burke, it would
have required more firmness than habitually belonged to Mr. Fox ,
to withstand the persevering impetuosity of such a counsellor, or
keep the balance of his mind unshaken by those stupendous powers,
which , like the horses of the Sun breaking out of the ecliptic ,
carried every thing they seized upon so splendidly astray :—
" quaque impetus egit ,
Hac sjtne lege ruunt , al toque sub astherejixis
Incursant stellis , rapiuntque per avia cu.rru.rn.
Where'er the impulse drives , they burst away,
In lawless grandeur; — break into the array
Of the lix'd stars , and bound and blaze along
Their devious course , magnificently wrong !
Having hazarded these general observations , upon the views and
conduct of the respective parties of England, during the Crusade
now begun against the French people , I shall content myself with
briefly and cursorily noticing the chief questions upon which Mr.
Sheridan distinguished himself , in the Course of the parliamentary
campaigns that followed. The sort of guerilla warfare , which he
and the rest of the small band attached to Mr. Fox carried on, during
this period , against the invaders of the Constitution , is interesting
rather by its general character than its detail ; for in these, as usual,
the episodes of party personality are found to encroach dispropor-
tionately on the main design, and the grandeur of the cause, as
" II y a dej cos ou il faut mettre pour tin moment nn voile fur la Libert^ ,
comme I'on cache les statues des dieux."— MOMT^SQUIKU , Hv. xii. chap. 20.
358 MEMOIRS
viewed at a distance , becomes diminished to our imaginations by
too near an approach. Englishmen, however, will long look back
to that crisis with interest ; and the names of Fox , of Sheridan ,
and of Grey , will be affectionately remembered , when that sort of
false elevation , which party-feeling now gives to the reputations of
some who were opposed to them , shall have subsided to its due
level , or been succeeded by oblivion. They who act against the
general sympathies of mankind , however they may be artificially
buoyed up for the moment , have the current against them in the
long run of fame ; while the reputation of those , whose talents have
been employed upon the popular and generous side of human feel-
ings , receives , through all time, an accelerating impulse from the
countless hearts that go with it in its course. Lord Chatham even
now supersedes his son in fame , and will leave him at an immea-
surable distance with posterity.
Of the events of the private life of Mr. Sheridan , during this
stormy part of his political career , there remain but few memorials
among his papers. As an illustration , however , of his love of
belting — the only sort of Gambling in which he ever indulged — the
following curious list of his wagers for the year is not unamusing : —
" 25th May, 1790. — Mr. Sheridan bets Gen. Fitzpatrick one hundred
guineas to fifty guineas, that within two years from this date some mea-
sure is adopted in Parliament which shall be (bonafide} considered as
the adoption of a Parliamentary Reform.
" 2glh January, ijgS — Mr. S. bets Mr. Boothby Glopton five hundred
guineas, that there is a Reform in the Representation of the people of
England within three years from the date hereof.
" 2gth January, 1795.— Mr. S. bets Mr. Hardy one hundred guineas to
fifty guineas, that Mr. W. Windham does not represent Norwich at the
next general election.
" 2gth January, 1790.— Mr. S. bets Gen. Fitzpatrick fifty guineas,
that a corps of British troops are sent to Holland within two months of
the date hereof.
" i8th March, 1795.— Mr. S. bets Lord Titchfield two hundred gui-
neas, that the D. of Portland is at the head of an Administration on or
before the i8th of March, 1796: Mr. Fox to decide whether any place
the Duke may then fill shall bonafide come within the meaning of this
bet.
OFR.B. SHERIDAN. 359
" 25th March, 1795.— Mr. S. bets Mr. Hardy one hundred guineas,
that the three per cent, consols are as high this day twelvemonth as at
the date hereof,
" Air. S. bets Gen. Tarleton one hundred guineas to fifty guineas, that
.Mr. Pitt is first Lord of the Treasury on the a8th of May, 1795. — Mr. S.
l»c'ls Mr. St. A. St. John Gfteen guineas to five guineas, ditto. — Mr. S.
l»els Lord Sefton one hundred and forty guineas to forty guineas to ditto.
" igth March , 1793 -Lord Titchfield and Lord W. Russell bet Mr. S.
three hundred guineas to two hundred guineas that Mr. Pitt is first Lord
of the Treasury on the igth of March , 1795.
" 1 8th March, 1793.— Lord Titchfield bets Mr, 5. twenty-five guineas
to fifty guineas, that Mr. Windham represents Norwich at the next ge-
neral election.
As a sort of moral supplement lo this strange list , and one of
those insights into character and conduct which it is the duly of a
biographer to give, I shall subjoin a letter, connected evidently
\vilh one of the above speculations : —
"SIR,
" I am very sorry that I have been so circumstanced as to have been
obliged to disappoint you respecting the payment of the five hundred
guineas : when I gave the draughts on Lord ¥ * I had every
reason to be assured he would accept them, as * * had also. I
enclose you, as you will see by his desire, the letter in which he excuses
his not being able to pay me this part of a larger sum he owes me, and 1
cannot refuse him any time he requires, however inconvenient to me. I
also enclose you two draughts accepted by a gentleman from whom the
money will be due to me, and on whose punctuality I can rely. I extremely
regret that I cannot at this juncture command the money.
"At the same time that 1 regret your being put to any inconvenience
by this delay, I cannot help adverting to the circumstance which perhaps
misled me into the expectation thai you would not unwillingly aUow me
any reasonable time I' might want for the payment of this bet. The
circumstance 1 mean, however discreditable the plea, is the total inebriety
of some of the party, particularly of myself, when I made this pre-
posterous bet. I doubt not you will remember having yourself observed
on this circumstance to a common friend the next day, with an intima-
tion that you should not object to being oft'; and for my part, when I
was informed that; I had made such a bet and for such a sum, — the first,
such.folly on the face of it on my part, and the latter so out of my prac-
tice,—I certainly should have proposed the cancelling it, but that,
from the intimation imparted to me, 1 hoped the proposition might
rome from you.
360 MEMOIRS
" I hope I need not for a moment beg you not to imagine that I am
now alluding to these circumstances as the slightest invalidation of your
due. So much the contrary, that I most perfectly admit that from your
not having heard any thing further from me on the subject, and espe-
cially after I might have heard that if I desired it the bet might be off,
you had every reason to conclude that I was satisfied with the wager,
and whether made in wine or not, was desirous of abiding by it. And
this was further confirmed by my receiving soon after from you ioo/. on
another bet won by me.
" Having, I think, put this point very fairly, I again repeat that my
only motive for alluding to the matter was , as some explanation of my
seeming dilatoriness , which certainly did in part arise from always con-
ceiving that , whenever I should state what was my real wish the day
after the bet was made, you would be the more disposed to allow a little
time; — the same statement admitting, as it must, the bet to be as
clearly and as fairly won as possible ; in short , as if I had insisted on it
myself the next morning.
" I have said more perhaps on the subject than can be necessary ,
but I should regret to appear negligent to an application for a just
claim.
" I have the honour to be ,
" Sir,
" Your obedient servant,
" Hci-tjbi-d St. Feb. 26. " R. B. SHERIDAN."
Of the public transactions of Sheridan at this time, his speeches
are the best record. To them, therefore , I shall henceforward prin-
cipally refer my readers, — premising, that though the reports of his
later speeches are somewhat belter, in general, than those of his
earlier displays , they still do great injustice to his powers , and ex-
hibit little more than the mere Torso of his eloquence , curtailed of
all those accessories that lent motion and beauty to its form. The at-
tempts to give the terseness of his wit particularly fail , and are a
strong illustration of what he himself once said to Lord * *. That
Nobleman, who among his many excellent qualities docs not include
a very lively sense of humour, having exclaimed, upon hearing
some good anecdote from Sheridan, "I'll go and tell that to our
friend * *," Sheridan called him back instantly and said , with
much gravity, " For God's sake , don't , my dear * * : a joke is no
laughing mailer in your mouth/1
It is indeed singular, that all the eminent English orators — with (lie
exception of Mr. Burke and Mr. Windham — should have been so little
anxious for the correct transmission of their eloquence to posterity.
Had not Cicero taken more care of even his extemporaneous effu-
sions , we should have lost that masterly burst of the moment , to
which the clemency of C«rsar towards Marcellus gave birth, The
beautiful fragments we have of Lord Chatham are ralher traditional
OF R. B. SHERIDAN. 361
than recorded ; — there are but two , I believe , of the speeches of
Mr. Pill corrected fay himself, those on the Budget of 1792 , and on
the Union with Ireland; — Mr. Fox committed to writing but one
of his , namely, the tribute to the memory of the Duke of Bedford ;
— and the only speech of Mr. Sheridan, that is known with cer-
tainly to have passed under his own revision , was that which he
made at the opening of the following session ( 1794), in answer to
Lord Mornington.
In the course of the present year he took frequent opportunities
of expressing his disgust at that spirit of ferocity, which had so
deeply disgraced the cause of the Revolution. So earnest was his inr
terest in the fate of the Royal Family of France, that, as appears
from one of his speeches , he drew up a paper on the subject , and
transmitted it to the republican rulers ; — with the view, no doubt ,
of conveying to them the feelings of the English Opposition , and
endeavouring to avert, by the influence of his own name and that
of Mr. Fox , the catastrophe that awaited those Royal victims of li-
berty. Of this interesting document I cannot discover any traces.
In one of his answers to Burke on the subject of the" French Re-
volution, adverting to the charge of Deism and AthJism brought
against the republicans , he says ,
" As an argument to the feelings and passions of men , the Honourable
Member had great advantages in dwelling on this topic ; because it was
a subject which those who disliked every thing that had the air of cant
and profession on the one hand, pr of indifference on the other, found
it awkward to meddle with. Establishments, tests, and matters of that
nature, were proper objects of political discussion in that House, but
not general charges of Atbeism and Deism, as pressed upon their consi-
deration by tbe Honourable Gentleman. Thus far, however h6 would
say, and it was an opinion he had never changed or concealed, that,
although no man can command bis conviction , he had ever considered
a deliberate disposition to make proselytes in infidelity as an unac-
countable depravity. Whoever attempted to pluck the belief or the pre-
judice on this subject, style it which he would, frotn the bosom of one
man, woman, or child, committed a brutal outrage, the motive for
which he had never been able to trace or conceive."
I quote these words as creditable to the feeling and good sense of
Sheridan. Whatever may be thought of particular faiths and sects,
a belief in a life beyond this world is the only thing that pierces
through the walls of our prison-house , and lets hope shine in upon
a scene that would be otherwise bewildered and desolate. The pro-
selylismof the Atheist is , indeed , a dismal mission. That believers,
who have each the same heaven in prospect, , should invite us to
join I horn on their respective ways to it , is at least a benevolent o{-
3G2 MEMOIRS
ficiousness \ — but that he, who has no prospect or hope himself,
should seek for companionship in his road to annihilation, can only
be explained by that tendency in human creatures to count upon
each other in their despair, as well as their hope.
In. the speech upon his own Motion relative to the existence of
seditious practices in the country, there is some lively ridicule upon
the panic then prevalent. For instance : —
" The alarm had been brought forward in great pomp and form on
Saturday morning. At night all the mail-coaches were stopped ; the Duke
of Richmond stationed himself, among other curiosities , at the Tower ;
a great municipal officer, too, had made a discovery exceedingly benefi-
cial to the people of this country. He meant the Lord Mayor of London ,
who had found out that there was at the King's Arms in Gornhill a
Debating Society, where principles of the most dangerous tendency were
propagated ; where people went to buy treason at sixpence a-head ;
where it was retailed to them by the glimmering of an inch of candle;
and five minutes, to be measured by the glass, were allowed to each
traitor to perform his part in overturning the State."
It was in the same speech that he gave the well-known and happy
turn to the motto of the Sun newspaper, which was at that lime
known to be the organ of the Alarmists. " There was one paper,'
he remarked, c> in particular, said to be the property of members
of thai House , and published and conducted under their immediate
direction, which had for its motto a garbled part of a beautiful sen-
tence , when it might , with much more propriety, have assumed
the whole —
'' ' Solem qjils dicere falsum
Audcat? Ills etiam ccecos instare tuinuhus
Scepe monet , fraudemque et operta tnmescere bella? "
Among the subjects that occupied the greatest share of his allen-
tion , during this Session , was the Memorial of Lord Auckland to
the States-General, — which document he himself brought under the
notice of Parliament, as deserving of severe reprobation for the
violent and vindictive tone which it assumed towards the. Commis-
sioners of the National Convention. It w'as upon one of the discus-
sions connected with this subject that a dispute , as to the correct
translation of the word "malheureux," was maintained with much
earnestness between him and Lord Melville — two persons, the least
qualified, perhaps, of any in the House, to volunteer as either in-
terpreters or pronouncers of the French language. According to
Sheridan , " cesmalheureux" was lobe translated "these wretches;"
while Lord Melville contended, to the no small amusement of the
House, that " mollyroo" (as he pronounced it) meant no more than
these unfortunate gentlemen. v
OF R. B. SHERIDAN. 365
Jn the November of Ibis year Mr. Sheridan lost , by a kind of
death which must have deepened the feeling of the loss , the most
intimate of all his companions, Tickell. If congeniality of dispo-
sitions and pursuits were always a strengthener of affection , the
friendship between Tickell and Sheridan ought to have been of the
most cordial kind •, for they resembled each other in almost every
particular — in their wit, their wants, their talent, and their thought-
lessness. It is but too true , however, that friendship in general gains
far less by such a community of pursuit than it loses by the compe-
tition that naturally springs out of it ; and that two wits or two beau-
ties form the last sort of alliance in which we ought to look for spe-
cimens of sincere and cordial friendship. The*intercourse between
Tickell and Sheridan was not free from such collisions of vanity.
They seem to have lived , indeed , in a state of alternate repulsion
and attraction ; and , unable to do without the excitement of each
olher's vivacity, seldom parted without trials of temperas well as of
wit. Being both , too, observers of character, and each finding in
the other rich materials for observation, their love of ridicule could
not w ithstand such a temptation , and they freely criticised each
other to common friends, whx), as is usually the case, agreed with
both. Still, however, there wasawhimandsprightliness, even about
their mischief, which made it seem rather an exercise of ingenuity
than an indulgence of ill nature ; and if they had not carried on this
intellectual warfare , neither would have liked the other half so
well.
The two principal productions of Tickell, the " Wreath of
Fashion" and " Anticipation," were both upon temporary subjects,
and have accordingly passed into oblivion. There are, however,
some graceful touches of pleasantry in the poem ; and the pamphlet
(which procured for him not only fame but a place in the Stamp-office)
contains passages, of which the application and the humour have
not yet grown stale. As Sheridan is the hero of the Wreath of
Fashion , it is but right to quote the verses that relate to him : and
I do it with the more pleasure , because they also contain a well-
merited tribute to Mrs. Sheridan. After a description of the various
poets of the day that deposit their offerhigs in Lady Millar's "
of Sentiment," the author thus proceeds : —
" At Fashion's shrine behold a gentler bard
Gaze on the mystic vase with fond regard —
But see, Thalia checks the doubtful thought,
' Canst thou ( she cries ) with sense , with genius fraught ,
Canst thou to Fashion's tyranny submit ,
Secure in native , independent wit ?
Or yield to Sentiment's insipid rule ,
By Taste, by Fancy, cliac'd through Scandal's school ?
364 MEMOIRS
Ah no — be Sheridan's the comic page , t
Or let me fly with Garrick from the stage.'
Haste then , my friend , (for let ine boast that name , )
Haste to the opening path of genuine fame ,
Or, if thy muse a gentler theme pursue ,
Ah , 'tis to love and thy Eliza due !
For, sure , the sweetest lay she well may claim ,
Whose soul breathes harmony o'er all her frame ;
While wedded love , with ray serenely clear,
Beams from her eye, as from its proper sphere."
In the year 1781 , Tickell brought out at Drury-Lane an opera
called "The Carnival of Venice," on which there is the following
remark in Mrs. Croifch's Memoirs : — " Many songs in this piece so
perfectly resemble in poetic beauty those which adorn The Duenna,
that they declare themselves to be the offspring of the same muse."
I know not how far this conjecture may be founded ; but there are
four pretty lines which I remember in this opera , and which , il
may be asserted without hesitation , Sheridan never wrote. He had
no feeling for natural scenery ', nor is there a trace of such a sen-
timent discoverable through his poetry. The following , as well as I
can recollect , are the lines : —
" And while the moon shines on the stream ,
And as soft music breathes around,
The feathering oar returns the gleam ,
And dips in concert to the sound."
I have already given a humorous Dedication of the Rivals , writ-
ten by Tickell on the margin of a copy of that play in my possession.
I shall now add another piece of still more happy humour , with
which he has filled , in very neat handwriting, the three or four first
pages of the same copy.
" The Rivals, a Comedy — one of the best in the English language —
written as long ago as the reign of George the Third. The author's name
•was Sheridan— he is mentioned by the historians of that age as a man
of uncommon abilities, very little improved by cultivation. His confi-
dence in the resources of his own genius , ap.d his aversion to any sort
of labour, were so great that he could not be prevailed upon to learn
either to read or write. He was, for a short time, Manager of one of the
1 In corroboration of this remark, I have beeu allowed to quote the following
passage of a letter written by a very eminent person, whose name all lovers of
the Picturesque associate with their best enjoyment of its beanties: —
"At one time I saw a good deal of Sheridan — he and his first wife passed some
time here , and he is an instance that a taste for poetry and for scenery are not
always united. Had this house been in the midst of Hounslow Heath , he could not
have taken less interest in all around it : his delight was in shooting, all and ever\
day; and my gamekeeper said, that of all the gentlemen he had ever been out with,
lie never knew so bad a shot.''
OF R. B. SHERIDAN. 3C5
play-houses, and conceived the extraordinary and almost incredible
project of composing a play extempore, which he was to recite in the
Green-room to the actors, who were immediately to come on the stage
and perform it. The players refusing to undertake their parts at so short
a notice, and with so little preparation, he threw up the management
in disgust.
"lie was a member of the last Parliaments that were summoned in
England , and signalised himself on many occasions by his wit and elo-
quence, though he seldom came to the House till the debate was nearly
concluded, and never spoke, unless he was drunk. He lived on a footing,
of great intimacy with the famous Fox, who is said to'have concerted
with him the audacious attempt which he made, about the year iy85 ,
to seize the whole property of the East India Company, amounting at
that time to above ia,ooo,ooo/. sterling, and then to declare himself Lord
Protector of the realm by the title of Carlo Khan. This desperate scheme
actually received the consent of the lower House of parliament, the
majority of whom were bribed ,by Fox, or intimidated by his and
Sheridan's threats and violence ; and it- is generally believed that the
Revolution would have taken place, if the Lords of the King's Bed-
chamber had not in a body surrounded the throne, and shown' the most
determined resolution not to abandon their posts but with their lives.
The usurpation being defeated, Parliament was dissolved and loaded
with infamy. Sheridan was one of the few members of it who were re-
elected : — the Burgesses of Stafford, whom he had kept in a constant;
state of intoxication for near three weeks, chose him again to represent
them , which he was well qualified to do*
"Fox's Whig party being very much reduced, or rather almost
annihilated , he and the rest of the conspirators remained quiet for some
time; till, in the year 1788, the French, 'in conjunction with Tippoo
Sultan , having suddenly seized and divided between themselves the
whole of the British possessions in India , the East India Company broke,
and a national bankruptcy was apprehended. During this confusion. Fox
and his partizans assembled jn large bodies , and made a violent attack in
Parliament on Pitt, the King's first minister :— Sheridan supported and
seconded him. Parliament seemed disposed to enquire into the cause of
the calamity : the nation was almost in a state of actual rebellion : and it
is impossible for us , at the distance of three hundred years, to form
any judgment what dreadful consequences might have followed, if the
King, by the advice of the Lords of the Bedchamber, had not dissolved
the Parliament , and taken the administration of affairs into his own
hands, and those of a few confidential servants, at the head of whom he
was pleased to place one, Mr. Atkinson , a merchant , who had acquired
a handsome fortune in the Jamaica trade, and passed universally for a
man of unblemished integrity. His Majesty having now no farther oc-
casion for Pitt, and being desirous of rewarding him for his past services,
and, at the same time, finding an adequate employment for his great
talents, caused him to enter into holy orders, and presented him with
ilu Deanery of Windsor, where he became an excellent preacher, and
published several volumes of sermons, all of which are now lost.
To return to Sheridan :— on the abrogation of Parliaments, he
3GG MEMOIRS
entered into a closer connection than ever with Fox and a few others of
lesser note, forming together as desperate and profligate a gang as ever
disgraced a civilized country. They were guilty of every species of enor-
mity, and went so far as even to commit robberies on the highway, with
a degree of audacity that could be equalled only by the ingenuity with
which they escaped conviction. Sheridan, not satisfied with eluding,
determined to mock the justice of his country, and composed a Masque
called ' The Foresters,' containing a circumstantial account of some of
the robberies he had committed, and a good deal of sarcasm on the pusilla-
nimity of those whom he had robbed, and the inefficacy of the penal laws of
the kingdom. This piece was acted atDrury-Lane Theatre with great ap-
plause, to the astonishment of all sober persons , and the scandal of the
mtion. His Majesty, who had long wished to curb the licentiousness of
I he press and the theatres, thought this a good opportunity. He ordered
the performers to be enlisted into the army, the play-house to be shut up,
and all Theatrical exhibitions to be forbid on pain of death. Drury-Lanc
house was soon after converted into a barrack for soldiers, which it has
continued to be ever since. Sheridan was arrested, and, it was imagined
would have suffered the rack , if he had not escaped from his guard by
a stratagem, and gone over to Ireland in a balloon with which his friend
Fox furnished him. Immediately on his arrival in Ireland , he put
himself at the head of a party of the most violent Reformers , com-
manded a regiment of Volunteers at the siege of Dublin in 1791, and was
supposed to be the person who planned the scheme for tarring and
feathering Mr. Jenkinson , the Lord Lieutenant, and forcing him in that
condition to sign the capitulation of the Castle. The persons who were
to execute this strange enterprize had actually got into the Lord Lieu-
tenant's apartment at midnight , and would probably have succeeded
in their project, if Sheridan, who was intoxicated with whiskey, a
strong liquor much in vogue with the Volunteers , had not attempted
to force open the door of Mrs. 's bedchamber, and so given the
alarm to the garrison, who instantly flew to arms, seized Sheridan and
every one of his party, and confined them in the castle-dungeon. Sheridan
was ordered for execution the next day, but had no sooner got his legs
and arms at liberty, than he began capering, jumping, dancing, and
making all sorts of antics, to the utter amazement of the spectators.
When the chaplain endeavoured , by serious advice and admonition , to
bring him to a proper sense of his dreadful situation, he grinned , made
faces at him, tried to tickle him, and played a thousand other pranks
with such astonishing drollery, that the gravest countenances became
cheerful, and the saddest hearts glad.. The soldiers who attended at the
gallows were so delighted with his merriment, which they deemed
magnanimity, that the sheriffs began to apprehend a rescue, and ordered
the hangman instantly to do his duty. He went off in a loud horse-laugh,
and cast a look towards the Castle, accompanied with a gesture expressive
of no great respect.
"Thus ended the life of this singular and unhappy man— a melan-
choly instance of the calamities that attend the misapplication of great
and splendid ability. He was married to a very beautiful and amiable
woman , for whom he is said to have entertained an unalterable affection.
OF H. B SHERIDAN. 36T
He had one son , a boy of the most promising hopes , whom he would
never suffer to be instructed in the first rudiments of literature. He
amused himself, however, with teaching the boy. to draw portraits with
his toes, in which he soon became so astonishing a proficient that he
seldom failed to takeamostexact likeness of every person who sat to him.
" There are a few more plays by the same author, all of them excellent.
"For further information concerning this strange man, vide ' Mac-
pherson's Moral History,' Art. ' Drunkenness.' "
CHAPTER XVII.
Speeches in answer to Lord Mornington. — Coalition of the whigSeceders
with Mr. Pitt. — Mr. Canning. — Evidence on the Trial of Home
Tookc. — The " Glorious First of June."— Marriage of Mr, Sheridan. —
Pamphlet of Mr. Reeves.— Debts of the Prince of Wales. -Shakspeare
'Manuscripts — Trial of Stone.— Mutiny at the Nore. — Secession of
Mr. Fox from Parliament. ir . ,
IN the year 1794, the natural consequences of me policy pursued
by Mr. Pitt began rapidly to unfold themselves both at home and
abroad '. The confederated Princes of the Continent, among whom
(he gold of England was now the sole bond of union , had succeeded
as might be expected from so noble an incentive," and, powerful
only in provoking France, had by every step they took bul minis-
tered to her aggrandizement. In the mean time , the measures of
(lie English Minister at home were directed to the two great objects
of his legislation — the raising of supplies and the suppressing of
sedition; or, in other words, to the double and anomalous task of
making the people pay for the failures of their Royal allies, and
suffer for their sympathy with the success of their republican ene-
mies. It is the opinion of a learned Jesuit , that it was by aqua regia
the Golden Calf of the Israelites was dissolved — and the cause of
Kings was the Royal solvent, in which the wealth of Great Britain
now melted irrecoverably away. While the successes, too, of tho
French had already lowered the tone of the Minister from project*
of aggression to precautions of defence , the wounds which , in the
wantonness of alarm , he Had inflicted on the liberties of the country,
were spreading an inflammation around them that threatened real
danger. The severity of the sentences upon Muir and Palmer in
Scotland, and the daring confidence with which charges of Jligli
1 See, for a masterly exposure of the Errors of the War, the Speech of Lord
f.ansdmvue this year, ou bringing forward his Motion for Peace.
I cannot let the name of this nobleman pass, without expressing the deep grali-
rmle which I fed to tym , not only for his own kindness to me, when iulrodurcil ,
as a boy, to hU flotice , but for the friendship of his truly Noble descendant, which
f, in a great degree, osve to him, and which has long been the pride and li;i|ij.i
ness of my life
368 MEMOIRS
Treason were exhibited against persons who were, at the worst, but
indiscreet reformers , excited the apprehensions of even the least
sensitive friends of freedom. It is, indeed, difficult to say how far
the excited temper of the government , seconded by the ever ready
subservience of state-lawyers and bishops, might have proceeded at
this moment, had not the acquittal of Tooke and his associates , and
the triumph it diffused through the country given a lesson to Power
such as England is alone capable of giving , and which \\ill long be
remembered, to the honour of that great political safe-guard, — that
Life preserver in stormy times , — the Trial by Jury.
At the opening of the Session , Mr. Sheridan delivered his admi-
rable answer lo Lord Morninglon, the report of which , as I have
already said , was corrected for publication by himself. In this fine
speech , of which the greater part must have been unprepared ,
there is a natural earnestness of feeling and argument that is well
contrasted with the able but artificial harangue that preceded it. In
referring to the details which Lord Mornington had entered into of
the various atrocities committed in France, he says : —
" But what was the sum of all that he had told the House? that great
and dreadful enormities had been committed, at which the heart shud-
dered, and which not merely wounded every feeling of humanity, but
disgusted and sickened the soul. All this was most true; but what did
all this prove ? What , but that eternal and unalterable truth which had
always presented itself to his mind, in whatever way he had viewed the
subject , namely, that a long established despotism so far degraded and
debased human nature, as to render its subjects, on the first recovery of
their rights , unfit for the exercise of them. But never had he , or would
he meet but. with reprobation that mode of argument which went , in
fact, to establish, as an inference from this truth, that those who had
been long slaves , ought therefore to remain so for ever ! ]\o ; the lesson
ought to be, he would again repeat, a tenfold horror of that despotic
form of government, which had so profaned and changed the nature of
civilised man , and a still more jealous apprehension of any system tending
to withhold the rights and liberties of our, fellow-creatures. Such a form
of government might be considered as twice cursed ; while it existed, it
was solely responsible for the miseries and calamities of its subjects ; and
should a day of retribution come, and the tyranny be destroyed , it was
equally to be charged with all the enormities which tbe folly or frenzy
of those who overturned it should commit.
" But the madness of the French people was not confined to their
proceedings within their own country; We, and all the Powers of
Europe , had to dread it. True ; but was not this also to he accounted
for? Wild and unsettled as their state of mind was, necessarily, upon
the events which, had thrown such power so suddenly into their hands,
the surrounding States had goaded them into a. still more savage state
of madness, fury, and desperation. We had unsettled their reason , and
then reviled their insianty ; we drove them to the extremities that
OF R. B SHERIDAN. 3CO
produced the evils we arraigned ; we baited them like wild beasts, until
at length \ve made them so. The conspiracy of Pilnitz , and the brutal
threats of the Royal abettors of that plot against the rights of nations and
of men, had, in truth, to answer for all the additional misery, horrors,
and iniquity, which had since disgraced and incensed humanity. Such
has been your conduct towards France , that you have created the
passions which you persecute ; you mark a nation to be cut off fro'm
the world ; you covenant for their extermination ; you swear to hunt
them in their inmost recesses; you load them with every species of
execration ; and you now come forth with whining declamations on the
horror of their turning upon you with the fury which you inspired."
Having alluded to an assertion of Gondorcet , quoted by Lord Mor-
nington , that " revolutions are always the work of the minority,"
he adds livelily :—
"If this be true , it certainly is a most ominous thing for the enemies
of Reform in England ; for, if it holds true , of necessity, that the mino-
rity still prevails, in national contests , it must be a consequence that the
smaller the minority the more certain must be the success. In what a
dreadful situation then must the Noble Lord be and all the Alarmists ! —
for, never surely was a minority so small , so thin in number as the
present. Conscious, however, that M. Condorcet was mistaken in our
object, I am glad to find that we are terrible in proportion as we are few;
1 rejoice that the liberality of secession which has thinned our ranks has
only served to make us more formidable. The Alarmists will hear this
with new apprehensions ; they will no doubt return to us with a view to
diminish our force , and encumber us with their alliance in order to
reduce us to insignificance."
We have here another instance , in addition to the many that have
been given of the beauties that sprung up under Sheridan's correct-
ing hand. This last pointed sentence was originally thus : " And
we shall swell our numbers in order to come nearer in a balance of
insignificance to the numerous host of the majority."
It was at this time evident that the great Whig Seceders would
soon yield to the invitations of Mr. Pitt and the vehement persua-
sions of Burke, and commit themselves still further with the Admi-
nistration by accepting 'of office. Tlmugh the final arrangements to
this effect were not completed till the summer, on account of the lin-
gering reluctance of the Duke of Portland andMr. Windham, Lord
Loughborough and others of the former Opposition had already put
on the official livery of the Minister. It is to be regretted that , in
almost all cases of conversion to the side of power, the coincidence
of some worldly advantage with the change should make it difficult
H) decide upon the sincerity or disinterestedness of the convert.
That these Noble Whigs were sincere in their alarm there is no
reason to doubt, but HIP- lesson of loyally they have transmitted
370 MEMOIRS
would have been far more edifying , had the usual corollary of ho-
nours and emoluments not followed , and had they left at least one
instance of political conversion on record , where the truth was its
own sole reward, and the proselyte did not subside into the place-
man. Mr. Sheridan was naturally indignant at these desertions, and
his bitterness overflows in many passages of the speech before us.
Lord Mornington having contrasted the privations and sacrifices
demanded of the French by their Minister of Finance with those
required of the English nation , he says , in answer : —
" The Noble Lord need not remind us, that there is no great danger of
our Chancellor of the Exchequer making any such experiment. 1 can
more easily fancy another sort of speech for our prudent Minister. I can
more easily conceive him modestly comparing liimself and his own mea-
sures with the character and conduct of his rival, and saying, — ' Do 1
demand of you, wealthy citizens, to lend your hoards to Government
without interest ? On the contrary, when I shall come to propose a loan,
there is not a man of you to whom I shall not hold out at least a job in
every part of the subscription, and an usurious profit upon every pound
you devote to the necessities of your country. Do I demand of yon, my
fellow-placemen and brother-pensioners, that you should sacrifice any
part of your stipends to the public exigency? On the contrary, am I not
dailv increasing your emoluments and your numbers in proportion as the
country becomes unable to provide for you ? Do I require of you , my
latest and most zealous proselytes, of ypu who have come over to me for
the special purpose of supporting the war — a war, on the success of which
you solemnly protest, that the salvation of Britain, and of civil society
itself, depend— do I require of you, that you should make a temporary'
sacrifice, in the cause of human nature, of the greater part of your private
incomes? No, gentlemen, I scorn to lake advantage of the eagerness of
your zeal ; and to prove that I think the sincerity of your attachment to
me needs no such test, I will make your interest co-operate with your
principle : I will quarter many of you on the public supply, instead of
calling on you to contribute to it ; and, while their whole thoughts are
absorbed in patriotic apprehensions for their country, I will dexterously
force upon others the favourite objects of the vanity or ambition of their
lives."
" Good God, Sir, that he sWmld have thought it prudent to have
forced this contrast upon our attention ; that he should triumphantly
remind us of every thing that shame should have withheld, and caution
would have buried in oblivion ! Will those who stood forth with a parade
of disinterested patriotism, and vaunted of the sacrifices they had made,
and the exposed situation they had chosen, in order the better to oppose
the friend of Brissot in England — will they thank the Noble Lord for re-
minding us bow soon these lofty professions dwindled into little jobbing
pursuits for followers and dependants, as unfit to fill the offices procured
for them, as the oflices themselves were until to be created? — Will the
train of newly titled alarmists, of supernumerary negotiators, of pensioned
OF R. B. SHERIDAN. 37,
paymasters, agents and commissaries, thank him for remarkin" to us
how profitable their panic has been to themselves, and how expensive to
their country? What a contrast, indeed, do we exhibit ! — What! in such
an hour as this, at a moment pregnant with the national fate, when
pressing as the exigency may be, the hard task of squeezing the money
from the pockets of an impoverished people, from the toil, the drudgery
of the shivering poor, must make the most practised collector's heart
ache while he tears it from them— can it be, that people of high rank,,
and professing high principles, that they or their families should seek to
thrive on the spoils of misery, and fatten on the meals wrested from in-
dustrious poverty ? Can it be, that this should be the case with the very
persons,who state the unprecedented peril of the country as the sole
cause of their being found in the ministerial ranks? The Constitution is
in danger, religion is in danger, the very existence of the nation itself is
endangered ; all personal and party considerations ought to vanish ; the
war must be supported by every possible exertion , and by eveiy possible
sacrifice; the people must not murmur at their burdens; it is for their
salvation,— their all is at stake. The time is come, when all honest and
disinterested men should rally round the Throne as round a standard • —
for what ? ye honest and disinterested men , to receive , for your own
private emolument, a portion of those very taxes wrung from the people,
on the pretence of saving them from the poverty and distress which you
say the enemy would inflict, but which you take care no enemy shall be
able to aggravate. Oh ! shame ! s,hame ! is this a time for selfish intrigues,
and the little dirty traffic for lucre and emolument ? Does it suit the
honour of a gentleman to ask at such a moment ? Does it become the
honesty of a Minister to grant? Is it intended to confirm the pernicious
doctrine , so industriously propagated by many, that all public men are
impostors, and that every politician has his price ? Or even where there
is no principle in the bosom, why does not prudence hint to the merce-
nary and the vain to abstain a while at least, and wait the fitting of the
times ? Improvident impatience! Nay, even from those who seem to have
no direct object of office or profit, what is the language which their
actions speak ? The Throne is in danger ! — ' we. will support the Throne •
but let us share the smiles of Royalty ; ' — the order of Nobility is in
danger! — 'I will fight for Nobility,' says the Viscount, 'but my zeal
•would be much greater if I were made an Earl ' ' Rouse all the Marquis
within me,' exclaims the Earl,' and the peerage never turned forth a
more undaunted champion in its cause than I shall prove.' ' Stain my
green riband blue,' cries out the illustrious Knight, 'and the fountain of
honour will have a fast and faithful servant.' What are the people to
think of our sincerity ?— What credit are they to give to our professions?
— Is this system to be persevered in ? Is there nothing that whispers to
that Right Honourable Gentleman that the crisis is too big, that the times
are too gigantic , to be ruled by the little hackneyed and even-day means
of ordinary corruption ?"
The discussions , indeed , during the whole of this Session, were
marked by a degree of personal acrimony , which in the present
more sensitive limes would hardly be borne. Mr. Pitt and Mr. She-
37* MEMOIRS
ridan came , most of all , into collision -, and the retorts of the
Minister not unfrequenlly proved with what weight the haughty
sarcasms of Power may descend even upon the tempered buckler
of Wit.
It was in this Session , and on the question of the Treaty with the
Ring of Sardinia , that Mr. Canning made his first appearance, as an
orator, in the House. He brought with him a fame , already full of
promise, and has been one of the brightest ornaments of the senate
and ihe country ever since. From the political faith in which he
had been educated , under the very eyes of Mr. Sheridan , who had
long been the friend of his family, and at whose house he generally
passed his college-vacations , the line that he was to take in the
House of Commons seemed already, according to the usual course
of events , marked out for him. Mr. Sheridan had, indeed, with an
eagerness which, however premature, showed the value which he
and others set upon the alliance , taken occasion , in the course of
a laudatory tribute to Mr. Jenkinson ' , on the success of his first
effort in the House, to announce the accession which his own party
was about to receive, in the talents of another gentleman, — the
companion and friend of the young orator who had now distin-
guished himself. Whether Ihis and other friendships , formed by
Mr. Canning at Iho University, had any share in alienating him
from a political creed , which he had hitherto , perhaps . adopled
rather from habit and authority than choice — or, whether he was
startled at the idea of appearing for the first time in the world, as
the announced pupil and friend of a person who, both by the vehe-
mence of his politics and (he irregularities of his life, had put
himself, in some degree, under the ban of public opinion — or whe-
ther, lastly, he saw the difficulties which even genius like his would
experience, in rising to- the full growth of its ambition, under the
shadowing branches of the Whig aristocracy and that superseding
influence of birth and connections , which had contributed to keep
even such men as Burke and Sheridan out of the Cabinet — which of
these motives it w as that now decided the choice of the young po-
litical Hercules , between the two paths that equally wooed his foot-
steps, none, perhaps, but himself can fully determine. His decision,
we know , was in favour of the Minister and Toryism 5 and , after a
friendly and candid explanation to Sheridan of the reasons and feel-
ings that urged him to this step, he entered iato terms with
Mr. Pitt, and was by him immediately brought into Parliament.
However dangerous it might be to exalt such an example into
a precedent , it is questionable whether , in thus resolving to join
• Now Lord Liverpool.
OF B. B. SHKKIDAN. ytff
the ascendant side , Mr. Canning has not conferred a greater bene-
tit on the country than he ever would have been able to effect in
the ranks of his original friend. That party, which has now so long
been the sole depositary of the power of the Stale, had, in addition
to the original narrowness of its principles, contracted all that proud
obstinacy in antiquated error , which is the invariable characteristic
of such monopolies; and which however consonant with its voca-
tion , as the chosen instrument of the Crown , should have long
since invalided it in the service of a free and enlightened people.
Some infusion of the spirit of the times into this body had become
necessary, even for its own preservation, — in the same manner .as
the inhalement of youthful breath has been recommended, by some
physicians , to the infirm and superannuated. This renovating in-
spiration the genius of Mr. Canning has supplied. His first political
lessons were derived from sources too sacred to his young admira-
tion lobe forgotten. He has carried the spirit of these lessons with
him into the councils which he joined, and by the vigour of the
graft , which already , indeed , shows itself in the fruits , bids fair lo
change altogether the nature of Toryism.
Among the eminent persons summoned as witnesses on the Trial
of Home Tooke , which look place in the November of this year,
was Mr. Sheridan ; and , as his evidence contains some curious par-
ticulars, both with regard to himself and the slate of political feeling
iu the year 1790, 1 shall here transcribe a part of it : —
" He (Mr. Sheridan) said he recollects a meeting to celebrate the
establishment of liberty in France in the year 1790. Upon that occasion
he moved a Resolution drawn up the day before by the Whig club.
Mr. Home Tooke, he says, made no objection to his motion, but pro-
posed an amendment. Mr. Tooke stated that unqualified approbation of
the French Revolution, in the terms moved, might produce an ill effect
out of doors , a disposition to a revolution in this country, or, at least,
be misrepresented to have that object; he adverted to the circumstance
of their having all of them national cockades in their hats; be proposed
to add some qualifying expression to the approbation of the French
Revolution , a declaration of attachment to the principles of our own
Constitution; he said Mr. Tooke spoke in a figurative manner of the
former Government of France; he described it as a vessel so foul and
decayed, that no repair could save it from destruction, that in contrasting
our state with that, he said, thank God, the main limbers of our Consti-
tution are sound; be bad before observed, however, that some reforms
might be necessary ; he said that sentiment was received with great
<lisapprobation, and with very rude interruption, insomuch that Lord
Stanhope, who was in the chair, interfered; lie said it had happened
to him, in many public meetings , to differ with and oppose the prisoner,
.iiul that he has frequently seen him received with very considerable
marks of disapprobation , but he never saw them affect him much; he
374 MEMOIRS
said that he himself objected to Mr. Tookc's amendment; he thinks he
withdrew his amendment, and moved it as a separate motion; he said it
•was then carried as unanimously as his own motion had been ; that
original motion and separate motion are in these words : — ' That this
meeting does most cordially rejoice in the establishment and conGrmation
of liberty in France; and it beholds with peculiar satisfaction the senti-
ments of amity and good will which appear to pervade the people of that
country towards this kingdom, especially at a time when it is the manifest
interest of both states that nothing should interrupt the harmony which
at present subsists between them , and which is so essentially necessary
to the freedom and happiness, not only of the French nation , but of all
mankind.' Mr. Tooke wished to add to his motion some qualifying clause,
to guard against misunderstanding and misrepresentation : — that there
was a wide difference between England and France; that in France the
vessel was so foul and decayed, that no repair could save it from destruc-
tion, whereas, in England, we had a noble and stately vessel, sailing
proudly on the bosom of the ocean ; that her main timbers were sound,
though it was true, after so long a course of years, she might want some
repairs. Mr. Tooke's motion was, — ' That we feel equal satisfaction that
the subjects of Eugland, by the virtuous exertions of their ancestors,
have not so arduous a task to perform as the French have had, but have
only to maintain and improve the Constitution which their ancestors
have transmitted to them/— This was carried unanimously."
The trial of Warren Hastings slill "draggeditsslowlength along,"
and in the May of this year Mr. Sheridan was called upon for his
Reply on the Begum Charge. It was usual, on these occasions, for
the Manager who spoke to be assisted fay one of his brother mana-
gers , whose task it was to carry the bag that contained his papers ,
and to read out whatever Minutes might be referred to in the course
of the argument. Mr. Michael Angelo Taylor was the person who
undertook this office for Sheridan •, but on the morning of the speech,
upon his asking for the bag that he was to carry, he was told by
Sheridan that (here was none — neither bag nor papers. They must
manage, he said, as well as they could without ttrem; — and when
the papers were called for, his friend must only put the best coun-
tenance he could upon it. As for himself, " he would abuse Ned
Law — ridicule Plumer's long orations — make the Court laugh —
please the women , and , in short , with Taylor's aid , would get
triumphantly through his task." His opening of the case was lis-
tened to with the profoundest attention 5 but when he came to con-
trast the evidence of the Commons with that adduced by Hastings ,
it was not long before the Chancellor interrupted him, with a re-
quest , that the printed Minutes to which he referred should be read.
Sheridan answered that his friend Mr. Taylor would read them ;
and Mr. Taylor affected to send for the bag, while the orator beg-
ged leave, in the mean time, to proceed. Again , however, his state-
OF R. B. SHERIDAN. 375
mcnts rendered a reference to the Minutes necessary , and again
he was interrupted by the Chancellor, while an outcry after Mr. She-
ridan's bag was raised in all directions. At first the blame was laid
on the solicitor's clerk — then a messenger was dispatched to
Mr. Sheridan's house. In the mean time , the orator was proceed-
ing brilliantly and successfully in his argument ; and , on some
further interruption and expostulation from the Chancellor, raised
his voice and said , in a dignified tone , " On the part of the Com-
mons, and as a Manager of this Impeachment, I shall conduct my
case as I think proper. I mean to be correct-, and Your Lordships ,
having the printed Minutes before you , will afterwards see whether
I amri ght or wrong."
During the bustle produced by the enquiries after the bag,
Mr. Fox, alarmed at the inconvenience which, he feared, the want
of it might occasion to Sheridan , ran up from the Managers' room,
and demanded eagerly the cause of this mistake from Mr. Taylor ;
who, hiding his mouth with his hand, whispered him , (in a tone of
which they alone, who have heard this gentleman relate the anec-
dote , can feel the full humour,) " The man has no bag ! "
The whole of this characteristic contrivance was evidently in-
tended by Sheridan to raise that sort of surprise at the readiness of
his resources, which it was the favourite triumph of his vanity to
create. I have it on the authority of Mr. William Smythe, that, pre-
viously to the delivery of this speech , he passed two or three days
alone at Wanstead , so occupied from morning till night in writing
and reading of papers , as to complain in the evenings that he
" had motes before his eyes." This mixture of real labour with ap-
parent carelessness was , indeed , one of the most curious features
of his life and character.
Together with the political contests of this stormy year, he had
also on his mind the cares of his new Theatre , which opened on
the 2lsl of April, with a prologue, not by himself, as might have
been expected, but by his friend General Filzpatrick. He found
time, however, to assist in the rapid manufacture of a little piece
called "The glorious First of June," which was acted imme-
diately after Lord Howe's victory , and of which I have found some
sketches1 in Sheridan's hand-writing, — though the dialogue was
no doubt suppKed (as Mr. Boadcn says) by Cobb, or some other
1 One of these is as follows:—
t
" SCENE I. — Miss Leahe. — Miss Decamp — Walsh.
" Short dialogue — Nancy persuading Susan to go to the Fair, where there is an
entertainment to he given by the Lord of the Manor — Snsan melancholy hecausc
Henry, her lover, is at sea with the British Admiral— Song— Her old moiher scolds
376 MEMOIRS
such pedissequus of the Dramatic Muse. This piece was written ,
rehearsed, and acted within three days. The first operation of
Mr. Sheridan towards it was to order the mechanist of the theatre
to get ready two Heels. It was in vain that objections were started
to the possibility of equipping these paste-board armaments in so
short an interval — Lord Chatham's famous order to Lord Anson was
not more peremptory '. The two fleets were accordingly ready at
the lime , and the Duke of Clarence attended the rehearsal of their
evolutions. This mixture of the cares of the Statesman and the Ma-
froni the cottage— hsr little brother (Walsh} comes from the house, with a
message— langhs at his sister's fears, ;md sings — Trio.
SCENE II. — The Fair.
" Puppet-show — daucing bear — bells — hurdy-gurdy — recruiting party — song
and chorus.
" Ballet— D'Egvilie.
" Susan says she has no. pleasure, and will go and take a solitary walk.
" SCENE III. — Dark wood.
"Susan — gipsy — tells her fortune — recitative and ditty.
"SCENE IV.
" SEA-FIGHT — hell and the devil!
''Henry and Susan meet — Chorus introducing burden, "Rule Britannia."
Among other occasional trifles of this kind, to which Sheridan condescended
for the advantage of the theatre, was the pantomime of Robinson Crusoe , brought
out , I believe , in 1781, of which he is understood to have been the author. There
was a practical joke in this pantomime (where, in pulling off a man's boot, the
leg was pulled off with it,) which the famous Delpini laid claim to as his own, and
publicly complained of Sheridan's having stolen it from him. The punsters of the
day said it was claimed as literary property — being " iu nsum Delpini."
Another of these inglorious tasks of the author of The School for Scandal was
the furnishing the first outline or Programme of "The Forty Thieves." Hisbrother-
in-law, \Vard, supplied the dialogue, and Mr. Colman was employed to season it
with an infusion of jokes. The following is Sheridan's sketch of one of the
scenes : —
" Aw BABA.
"Bannister called out of the cavern boldly by his son — conies out and falls OH
the ground a long time, not knowing him — says he would only have taken a
little gold to keep off misery and save his son, etc.
'' Afterwards, when he loads his asses, his son reminds him to be moderate —
but it was a promise rnxde to thieves — ' it gets nearer the owner, if taken from
the slealer' — the sou disputes this morality — 'they stole it, ergo, they have no
right to it; and we steal it from the stealer, ergo, oar title is twice as bad as
theirs.' "
' For the expedition to the coast of France , after the Convention of Closter-
seven. — When he ordered the fleet to be equipped, and appointed the time and
place of its rendez vons , Lord Anson said it would be impossible to have it pre-
pared so soon. "It may," said Mr. Pitt, "be done; and if the ships are not ready
at the time specified, I shall signify "Yonr Lordship's neglect to the Ring, and
impeach you in the House of Commons." This intimation produced the desired
effect: the ships were ready. See Anecdotes of Lord Chatham, vol. i.
OF R. B. SHEFUDA1N. 377
nager is one of those whimsical peculiarities that made Sheridan's
own life so dramatic . and formed a compound altogether too sin-
gular ever to occur again.
In the spring of the following year (1795), we find Mr. Sheridan
paying (hat sort of tribute to the happiness of first marriage which is
implied by the step of entering into a second. The lady to whom he now
united himself was Miss Esther Jane Ogle , daughter of the Dean of
Winchester, and grand-daughter, by the mother's side, of the
former Bishop of Winchester. We have here another proof of the
ready mine of wealth which the theatre opened, — as in gratitude it
ought, — to him who had endowed it with such imperishable trea-
sures. The fortune of the lady being five thousand pounds , he added
to it fifteen thousand more , which he contrived to raise by the sale
ofDrury-Lane shares, and the whole of the sum was subsequently
laid out in the purchase from Sir W. Geary of the estate of Polesden ,
in Surrey , near Leatherhead. The Trustees of this settlement were
Mr. Grey (now Lord Grey) and Mr. Whitbread.
To a man at the time of life which Sheridan had now attained—
four years beyond that period at which Petrarch thought it decorous
to leave off writing love-verses ' — a union with a young and accom-
plished girl , ardently devoted to him , must have been like a renewal
of his own youth ; and it is , indeed , said by those who were in
habits of intimacy with him at this period , that they had»seldom seen
his spirits in a state of more buoyant vivacity. He passed much of
his time at the house of his father-in-law near Southampton ; — and
in sailing about with his lively bride on the Southampton river (in a
small cutter called the Phaedria, after the magic-boat in the " Fairy
Queen ,") forgot fora while his debts, his theatre, and his politics.
It was on one of these occasions that my friend Mr. Bowles , who
was a frequent companion of his parlies4, wrote the following verses,
which were much admired, as they well deserved to be, by Sheri-
dan, for the sweetness of their thoughts , and the perfect music of
their rhythm : —
"Smooth went our boat upon the summer seas,
Leaving ( for so it seem'd ) the world behind ,
Its cares , its sounds , its shadows : we re'clin'd
Upon the sunny deck, heard but the breeze
ofcUiU ni'ii'A'v:, ' /
1 See his Epistle "ad Posteritatem ," where, after lamenting the many year*
which he had devoted to love, he adds, " Mox vero ad quadragesimum annum
uppropinqnam, dnoi adhnoet caloris satis esset," etc.
' Among other distingnished persons present at these excursions , were Mr. J<>
x-ph Richardson, Dr. Howley, now Bishop of London, and Mrs. Wilmot, nfow
Lady Dacre, a lady whose various talents, — not the less •delightful for b«iug so
feminine,— like the.gronpe of the Graces, reflect beauty on each other.
•"8 MEMOIRS
That o'er us v liis|x-ring pass'd or idly play'd
With the lithe flag aloft.— A woodland scene
On either side drew its slope line of green,
And hung the water's shining edge with shade.
Above the woods , Netley ! thy ruins pale
Peer'd , as we pass'd: and Vecta's ' azure hue
Beyond the misty caslle a met the view ;
Where in mid channel hung the scarce-seen sail.
So all was calm and sunshine as we went
Cheerily o'er the briny element.
Oh ! were this little bostt to us the world ,
As thus we wander'd far from sounds of care,
Circled with friends and gentle maidens fair,
Whilst morning airs the waving pendant cnrl'd.
How sweet -were life's long voyage, till in peace
We gaia'd that haven still, where all tilings cease!'"
The events of this year but added fresh impetus to that reaction
upon each other of the Government and the People , which such a
system of misrule is always sure to produce. Among the worst effects,
as I have already remarked , of the rigorous policy adopted by the
Minister, was the extremity to which it drove the principles and
language of Opposition , and that sanction which the vehement re-
bound against oppression of such influencing spirits as Fox and She-
ridan seemed to hold out to the obscurer and more practical assertors
of freedom. ,This was at no time more remarkable than in the pre-
sent Session , during the discussion of those arbitrary measures , the
Treason and Sedition Bills , when sparks were struck out , in the
collision of the two principles, which the combustible state of public
feeling at the moment rendered not a little perilous. On the motion
that the House should resolve itself into a Committee upon the Trea-
son Bill, Mr. Fox said, that "if Ministers were determined, by
means of the corrupt influence they already possessed in the two
Houses of Parliament , to pass these Bills , in violent opposition to
the declared sense of the great majority of the nation, and they should
be put in force with all their rigorous provisions,— if his opinion
were asked by the people as to their obedience , he should tell them ,
that it was no longer a question of moral obligation and duty , but
of prudence." Mr. Sheridan followed in the bold footsteps of his
friend, and said, that " if a degraded and oppressed majority of the
people applied to him , he would advise them, to acquiesce in those
bills only as long as resistance was imprudent." Tin's language was,
of course, visited with the heavy reprobation of the Ministry ; — but
Iheir own partizans had already gone as great lengths on the side of
absolute power , and it is the nature of such extremes to generate
' Isle of Wight.
1 Kelsbot Caslle.
OF R. B. SHERIDAN. T79
each other. Bishop Horsley had preached the doctrine of passive
obedience in the House of Lords, asserting that "man's abuse of
his delegated authority is to be borne with resignation , like any
other of God's judgments ; and that the opposition of the individual
to the sovereign power is an opposition to God's providential arrange-
ments." The promotion of the Right Reverend Prelate that followed
was not likely to abate his zeal in the cause of power ; and accord-
ingly , we find him in the present session declaring, in his place in
the House of Lords, that " the people 'have nothing to do with the
laws but to obey them."
The government, too, had lately given countenance to writers,
the absurd slavishness of whose doctrines would have sunk below
contempt, but for such patronage. Among the ablest of them was
Arthur Young, — one of those renegades from the cause of freedom ,
who , like the incendiary that set fire to the Temple with the flame he
had stolen from its altar , turn the fame and the energies which they
have acquired in defence of liberty against her. This gentleman ,
to whom his situation as Secretary to the Board of Agriculture af-
forded facilities for the circulation of his political heresies, did not
scruple, in one of his pamphlets, roundly to assert, that unequal
representation, rotten boroughs, long parliaments, extravagant
courts , selfish Ministers , and corrupt majorities , are not only in-
timately interwoven with the practical freedom of England, but, in
a great degree , the causes of it.
But the most active and notorious of these patronised advocates of
the Court was Mr. John Reeves, — a person who, in his capacity
of President of the Association against Republicans and Levellers,
had acted as a sort of Sub-minister of Alarm to Mr. Burke. In a
pamphlet, entitled " Thoughts on the English Government," which
Mr. Sheridan brought under the notice of the House, as a libel on
the Constitution, this pupil of the school of Filmer advanced the
startling doctrine , that the Lords and Commons of England derive
their existence and authority from the King , and that the Kingly
government could go on, in all its functions, without them. This
pitiful paradox found an apologist in Mr. Windham . whose chivalry
in the new cause he had espoused left Mr. Pitt himself at a won-
dering distance behind. His speeches in defence of Reeves , (which
are among the proofs that remain of that want of equipoise ob-
servable in his fine , rather than solid , understanding ,) ha'vc been ,
with a judicious charity towards his memory , omitted in the au-
thentic collection by Mr. Arayot.
When such libels against Hie Constitution were not only promul-
gated , but acted upon , on one side , it was to be expected , and
hardly , perhaps, to be regretted, that the repercussion should be
.380 MEMOIRS
heard loudly and warningly from the oilier. Mr. Fox, by a subse-
quent explanation , softened down all that was most menacing in his
language; and, though the word "Resistance," at full length,
should, like the hand-writing on the wall, be reserved forlhe last
intoxication of the Belshazzars of this world , a letter or two of it
may , now and then, glare out upon their eyes, without producing
any thing worse than a salutary alarm amid their revels. At all
events, the high and constitutional grounds on which Mr. Fox de-
fended the expressions he had hazarded , may well reconcile us to
any risk incurred by their utterance. The tribute to the house of
Russell , in the grand and simple passage beginning , " Dear to this
country are the descendants of the illustrious Russell," is as appli-
cable to that Noble family now as it was then ; and w ill continue to
be so , I trust , as long as a single vestige of a race , so pledged
to the cause of liberty , remains.
In one of Mr. Sheridan's speeches on the subject of Reeves's libel,
there are some remarks on the character of the people of England,
not only candid and just , but , as applied lo them at that trying
crisis, interesting : —
"Never was there," he said, "any country in which there was so
much absence of public principle, and at the same time so many instances
of private worth. Never was there so much charity and humanity
cowards the poor and the distressed ; any act of cruelty or oppression
never failed to excite a sentiment of general indignation against its
authors. It was a circumstance peculiarly strange, that though luxury
had arrived to such a pitch, it had so little effect in depraving the hearts
and destroying the morals of people in private life, and almost every day
produced some fresh example of generous feelings and noble exertions
of benevolence. Yet, amidst these phenomena of private virtue , it was to
be remarked, that there was an almost total want of public spirit, and a
most deplorable contempt of public principle.
When Great Britain fell, the case would not be with her as with Rome
in former times. When Rome fell, sbe fell by the weight of her own vices.
The inhabitants were so corrupted and degraded, as to be unworthy
of a continuance of prosperity, and incapable to enjoy the blessings
of liberty ; their minds were bent to the state in which a reverse of
fortune placed them. But when Great Britain falls, she will fall with a
people full of private worth and virtue; she will be ruined by the
profligacy of the governors, and the security of ber inhabitants ,— the
consequence of those pernicious doctrines which have taught her to
place a false conGdence in her strength and freedom , 'and not to look
with distrust and apprehension to the misconduct and corruption of
those to whom sbe has trusted the management of Ber resources."
To this might have been added , that when Greet Britain falls , it
will not be from either ignorance of her rights , or insensibility to
their \aluc . but from that want of energy to assert them which a
OF R. B. SHERIDAN. 381
high state of civilisation -produces. The love of case that luxury
brings along wilh it, — the selfish and compromising spirit, in which
the members of a polished society countenance each other, and
which reverses the principle of patriotism , by sacrificing public in-
terests to private ones , — the substitution of intellectual for moral
excitement, and the repression of enthusiasm by fastidiousness and
ridicule , — these are among the causes that undermine a people , —
that corrupt in the very act of enlightening them 5 till they become ,
what a French writer calls " esprits exigeans et caracteres corn-
pi ai sans " and the period in which their rights are best understood
may be that in which they most easily surrender them. It is, indeed,
with the advanced age of free States , as with that of individuals, —
they improve in the theory of their existence as they grow unfit for
the practice of it ; till , at last , deceiving themselves with the sem-
blance of rights gone by , and refining upon the forms of their in-
stitutions after they have lost the substance , they smoothly sink into
slavery, with the lessons of liberty on their lips.
Besides the Treason and Sedition Bills , the Suspension of the
Habeas Corpus Act was another of the momentous questions which ,
in this as well as the preceding Session, were chosen as points
of assault by Mr. Sheridan , and contested with a vigour and rei-
teration of attack , which , though unavailing against the massy
majorities of the Minister, yet told upon public opinion so as to
turn even defeats to account.
The marriage of the Prince of Wales to the Princess Caroline of
Brunswick having taken place in the spring of this year, it was pro-
posed by His Majesty to Parliament , not only to provide an esta-
blishment for their Royal Highnesses, but to decide on the best
manner of liquidating the debts of the Prince , which were calculated
at 630,000/. On the secession of the leading Whigs, in 1792, His
Royal Highness had also separated himself from Mr. Fox , and held
no further intercourse either with him or any of his party, — except,
occasionally, Mr. Sheridan, — till so late, I believe, as the year 1798.
The effects of this estrangement are sufficiently observable in the
tone of the Opposition throughout the debates on the Message of
the King. Mr. Grey said, that he would not oppose the granting
of an establishment to the Prince equal to thai of his ancestors •, but
neither would he consent to the payment of his debts by Parliament.
A refusal , he added , to liberate His Royal Highness from his em-
barrassments would certainly prove a mortification ; but it would ,
at the same lime , awaken a just sense of his imprudence. Mr. Fox
asked , " Was Ihe Prince well advised in applying lo that House on
the subject of his debts, after the promise made in 1787?" — and
Mr. Sheridan, while he agreed with his friends lhat the application
38 8 MEMOIRS
should not have been made to Parliament, still gave it as his ''po-
sitive opinion that the debts ought to be paid immediately, for the
dignity of the country and the situation of the Prince > who ought
not to be seen rolling about the streets, in his state-coach, as an
insolvent prodigal." With respeci to the promise given in 1787, and
now violated , that the Prince would not again apply to Parliament
for the payment of his debts , Mr. Sheridan, with a communicative-
ness that seemed hardly prudent, put the House in possession of
some details of the transaction, which, as giving an insight into
Royal character, are worthy of being extracted.
" In 1787, a pledge was given to the House that no more debts should
be contracted. By that pledge the Prince was bound as much as if he
had given it knowingly and voluntarily. To attempt any explanation of it
now would be unworthy of his honour, — as if he had suffered it to be
wrung from him , with a view of afterwards pleading that it was against
his better judgment, in order to get rid of it. He then advised the
Prince not to make any such promise, because it was not be expected
that he could himself enforce the details of a system of economy ; and
although he had men of honour and abilities about him , he was totally
unprovided with men of business, adequate to such a task. The Prince
said he could not give such a pledge , and agree at the same time to take
back his establishment. He (Mr. Sheridan) drew up a plan of retrench-
ment, which was approved of by the Prince, and afterwards by His
Majesty ; and the Prince told him that the promise was not to be insisted
upon. In the King's Message, however, the promise was inserted, — by
whose ad vice he knew not. He heard it read with surprise, and, on being
asked next day by the Prince to contradict it in his place, he enquired
whether the Prince had seen the Message before it was brought down.
Being told that it had been read to him, but that he did not understand
it as containing a promise, he declined contradicting it , and told the
Prince that he must abide by it, in whatever way it might have been
obtained. By the plan then settled, Ministers had a check upon the
Prince's expenditure, which they never exerted, nor enforced adhe-
rence to the plan. *******
While Ministers never interfered to check expenses, of which they could
not pretend ignorance, the Prince had recourse to means for relieving
himself from his embarrassments, which ultimately tended to increase
them. It was attempted to raise a loan for him in foreign countries , a
measure which he thought unconstitutional, and put a stop to; and,
after a consultation with Lord Loughborough , all the bonds were burnt,
although with a considerable loss to the Prince. After that, another plan
of retrenchment was proposed , upon which he had frequent consulta-
tions with Lord Thurlow, who gave the Prince fair, open, and manly
advice. That IS'oble Lord told the Prince, that, after the promise he had
made, he mustnot think of applying to Parliament ;— lhathe must avoid
being of any party in politics, but, above all, exposing himself to the
suspicion of being influenced in political opinion by his embarrassments ;
— that the only course he could pursue with honodr, was to retire from
OF R. B. SHERIDAN. 383
public life for a time , and appropriate the greater part of his income to
the liquidation of his debts. This plan was agreed upon in the autumn
of 179-2. Why, it might IMJ asked, was it not carried into effect? About
that period His Royal Highness began to receive unsolicited advice from
another quarter. He was told by Lord Loughborongh , hoth in words and
in writing, that the plan savoured too much of the advice given to
M. Egalite, and he could guess from what quarter it came. For his own
part , he was then of opinion , that to have avoided meddling in the great
political questions which were then coming to be discussed, and to have
put his affairs in a train of adjustment , would have better become his
high station, and tended more to secure public respect to it, than the
pageantry of state- liveries."
The few occasions on which the name of Mr. Sheridan was again
connected with literature , after the final investment of his genius
in political speculations , were such as his fame might have easily
dispensed with ; — and one of them, the forgery of the Shakspeare
papers , occurred in the course of the present year. Whether it was
that he looked over these manuscripts with the eye more of a ma-
nager than of a critic , and considered rather to what account the
belief in their authenticity might be turned, than how far it was
founded upon internal evidence •, — or whether , as Mr. Ireland as-
serts , the standard at which he rated the genius of Shakspeare was
not so high as to inspire him with a very watchful fastidiousness of
.judgment ; — certain it is that he was, in some degree , the dupe of
this remarkable imposture, which , as a lesson to the self-confidence
of criticism , and an exposure of the fallibility of taste , ought never
to be forgotten in literary history.
The immediate payment of 300/., and a moiety of the profits
for the first sixty nights, were the terms upon which Mr. She-
ridan purchased the play of Vortigern from the Trelands. The lat-
ter part of the conditions was voided the first night ; and , though
it is more than probable that a genuine tragedy of Shakspeare ,
if presented under similar circumstances , would have shared the
same fate , the public enjoyed the credit of detecting and con-
demning a counterfeit , which had passed current through some of
the most learned and tasteful hands of the day. It is but justice ,
however, to Mr. Sheridan to add, that, according to the account
of Ireland himself, he was not altogether without misgivings dur-
ing his perusal of the manuscripts , ajid thai his name does not ap-
pear among the signatures to that attestation of their authenticity ,
which his friend Dr. Parr drew up , and was himself the first to sign.
The curious statement of Mr. Ireland , with respect to Sheridan's
want of enthusiasm for Shakspeare , receives some confirmation
from the testimony of Mr. Boaden, the biographer of Kcmble, who
tells us that " Kcmblc frequently expressed to him his wonder that
384 MEMOIRS
Sheridan should trouble himself so little about Shakspeare." This
peculiarity oftaste, — if it really existed to the degree that these two
authorities would lead us to infer, — affords a remarkable coinci-
dence with the opinions of another illustrious genius, lately lost to
the world , whose admiration of the great Demiurge of the Drama
was leavened with the same sort of heresy.
In the January of this year , Mr. William Stone — the brother of
the gentleman whose letter from Paris has been given in a preceding
Chapter — was tried upon a charge of High Treason , and Mr. She-
ridan was among the witnesses summoned for the prosecution. He
had already in the year 1794, in consequence of a reference from
Mr. Stone himself, been examined before the Privy Council , relative
to a conversation which he had held with that gentleman, and, on
the day after his examination , had, at the request of Mr. Dundas,
transmitted to that Minister in writing the particulars of his testimony
before the Council. There is among his papers a rough draft of this
Statement, in comparing which with his evidence upon the trial in
the present year , I find rather a curious proof of the faithlessness of
even the best memories. The object of the conversation which he
had held with Mr. Stone in 1794 — and which constituted the whole
of their intercourse with each other — was a proposal on the part of
the latter, .submitted also to Lord Lauderdale and others, to exert
his influence in France, through those channels which his brother's
residence there opened to him , for the purpose of averting the
threatened invasion of England, by representing to the French rulers
the utter hopelessness of such an attempt. Mr. Sheridan , on the
trial, after an ineffectual request to be allowed to refer to his written
Statement , gave the following as part of his recollections of the con-
versation : —
" Mr. Stone stated that, in order to effect this purpose, he had endea-
voured to collect the opinions of several gentlemen , political characters
in this country, whose opinions he thought would be of authority sufficient
to advance his object; that for this purpose he had had interviews with
different gentlemen ; he named Mr. Smith and, I think, one or two more,
whose names I do not now recollect. He named some gentleman
connected with Administration — if the Counsel will remind mi1 of the
name "
Here Mr. Law, the examining Counsel, remarked, that "upon
the cross-examination , if the gentlemen knew the circumstance ,
they would mention it." The cross-examination of Sheridan by
Sergeant Adair was as follows : —
*« You stated in the course of your examination that Mr. Stone said
there was a gentleman connected with Government , to whom he had
mad* a similar communication, should you recollect the name of that
OF R. B/ SHERIDAN. 38&
you were ivmindnl <»J it? — I eertaiim slit.uM. — \Vas it General
Murra\ ' (imeral Murra\ certainly/'
NolwilhslancHbg this, however, it appears from the written
Statement in my possession , drawn up soon after the conversation
in question, thai this "gentleman connected with Government/'
so ditlicult to be remembered, was no other than the Prime Minister,
Mr. Pitt himself: so little is the memory to be relied upon in evi-
dence , particularly when absolved from responsibility by the com-
mission of its deposit to writing. The conduct of Mr. Sheridan
throughout this transaction appears to have been sensible and cau-
tious. That he was satisfied with it himself may be collected frojn
the conclusion of his letter to Mr. Dundas : — " Under the circum-
stances in which the application (from Mr. Dundas) has been made
to me , I have thought it equally a matter of respect to that appli-
cation and of respect to myself, as well as of justice to the person
under suspicion , to give this relation more in detail than at first
perhaps might appear necessary. My own conduct in the matter not
being in question, I can only say that, were a similar case to occur,
I think I should act in every circumstance precisely in the manner
I did on this occasion."
The parliamentary exertions of Mr. Sheridan this year, though
various and active, were chiefly upon surbordinate questions ; and,
except in the instance of Mr. Fox's Motion of Censure upon Mi-
nisters for advancing money to the Emperor without the consent of
Parliament, were not distinguished by any signal or sustained dis-
plays of eloquence. The grand questions , indeed , connected with
the liberty of the subject had been so hotly contested , that but few
new grounds were left on which to renew the conflict. Events ,
however, — the only teachers of the great mass of mankind , —
were beginning to effect what eloquence had in vain attempted.
The people of England, though generally eager for war, are seldom
long in discovering that " the cup but sparkles near the brim ;" and
in the occurrences of the following year they were made to taste the
full bitterness of the draught. An alarm for the solvency of the Bank,
an impending invasion , a mutiny in the fleet , and an organised
rebellion in Ireland , — such wore the fruits of four years' warfare,
and they were enough to startle even the most sanguine and preci-
pitate into reflection.
The conduct of Mr. Sheridan on the breaking out of the Mutiny
al the Nore is too well fctibwn and appreciated to require any illus-
tration here. It is placed to his credit on .the page of history, and
was one of the happiest impulses of gdod feeling and good sense
combined, that ever public man acted upon in a situation demanding
so much of both. The patriotic promptitude of his inlcrfernire was
3SG MEMOIRS
even more striking than it appears in the record of his parliamentary
labours ; for, as I have heard at but one remove from his own au-
thority, while the Ministry were yet hesitating as to tlie steps they
should lake, he went to Mr. Dundas and said, — " My advice is
that you cut the buoys on the river— send Sir Charles Grey down
to the coast , and set a price on Parker's head. If the Administra-
tion take this advice instantly, they will save the country — if not,
they will lose it ; and , on their refusal , I will impeach them in the
House of Commons this very evening."
Without dwelling on the contrast which is so often drawn — less
with a view to elevate Sheridan than to depreciate his party —
between the conduct of himself and his friends at this fearful crisis,
it is impossible not to concede that, on the scale of public spirit, he
rose as far superior to them, as the great claims of the general
safety transcend all personal considerations and all parly ties. It
was, indeed, a rare triumph of temper and sagacity. With less
temper, he would have seen in this awful peril but an occasion of
triumph over the Minister whom he had so long been struggling to
overturn — and , with less sagacity, he would have thrown away (he
golden opportunity of establishing himself for ever in the affections
and the memories of Englishmen , as one whoso heart was in the
common-weal, whatever might be his opinions , and who, in the
moment of peril , could sink the partisan in the patriot.
As soon as he had performed this exemplary duty, he joined
Mr. Fox and the rest of his friends who had seceded from Parliament
about a week before , on the very day after the rejection of Mr.
Grey's motion for a Reform. This step, which was intended to create
a strong sensation, by hoisting, as it were, the signal of despair
lo the country, was followed by no such stirking effects, and left
little behind but a question as lo its prudence and patriotism. The
public saw, however, with pleasure, that there were still a few
champions of the Constitution , who did not " leave her fair side
all unguarded" in this extremity. Mr. Tierney, among others, re-
mained at his post, encountering Mr. Pitt on financial questions
with a vigour and address to which the laller had been hitherto un-
accustomed , and perfecting by practice that shrewd power of
analysis , which has made him so formidable a sifter of ministerial
sophistries ever since. Sir Francis Burdett, too, was just then en-
tering into his noble career of patriotism $ and , like the youthful
servant of the temple in Euripides , was aiming his first shafts at
those unclean birds , that settle within the sanctuary of the Consti-
tution and sully its treasures : —
" -rrtnicti T'a.y&>.a.{
'A /6x«t7rT«s-i»
OF R B SHERIDAN 387
Ky a letter from the Earl of Moira k> Col. M'Mahon , in the
summer of (his year, it appears that , in consequence of the cala-
mitous state of the country, a plan had been in agitation among
some members of the House of Commons , who had hitherto sup-
ported the measures of the Minister, to form an entirely new Admi-
nistration, of which the No,blc Earl was to be the head, and from
which both Mr. Pitt and Mr. Fox, as equally obnoxious to the
public , were to be excluded. The only materials that appear to
have been forthcoming for this new Cabinet were Lord Moira him-
self, Lord Thurlow, and Sir William Pulteney — the last of whom
it was intended to make Chancellor of the Exchequer. Such a tot-
fering balance of parlies , however, could not have been long main-
tained -, and its relapse , after a short interval , into Toryism would
b;it have added to the triumph of Mr. Pitt, and increased his power.
Accordingly Lord Moira , who saw from the beginning the delicacy
and difficulty of the task , wisely abandoned it. The share that
Mr. Sheridan had in this transaction is too honourable to him not
lo be recorded , and the particulars cannot be better given than in
Lord Moira 's own words : —
" Yon say that Mr. Sheridan has been traduced as wishing to abandon
>Ir. Fox, and to promote a new Administration. I had accidentally a
conversation with that gentleman at the House of Lords. I remonstrated
strongly with him against a principle which I heard Mr. Fox's friends in-
tended to lay down, namely, that they wouldsupport a new Administration,
hut that not any of them would take part in it. I solemnly declare , upon
my honour, that I could not shake Mr. Sheridan's conviction of the
propriety of that determination. He said that he and Mr. Fox's other
friends, as well as Mr. Fox himself, would give the most energetic
support to such an Administration as was in contemplation ; but that
their acceptance of office would appear an acquiescence under the
injustice of the interdict supposed to he fixed upon Mr. Fox. I did not
and never can admit the fairness of that argument. But I gained nothing
upon Mr. Sheridan, to whose uprightness in that respect I can therefore
bear the most decisive testimony. Indeed I am ashamed of offering
testimony, where suspicion ought not to have been conceived."
CHAPTER XVIII.
Play of " The Stranger." — Speeches in Parliament. — Pizarro. — Ministry
of Mr. Addington. — French Institute.— Negotiation with Mr. Kemble.
THE theatrical season of 1798 introduced lo the public the German
drama of " The Stranger," translated by Mr. Thompson , and (as
we are told by this gentleman in his preface ) altered and im-
proved by Sheridan. There is reason , however, to. believe that the
contributions of the latler to the dialogue were much more consi-
;j88 MEMOIRS
derable than he was perhaps willing lo lei the translator acknowledge.
My friend Mr. Rogers has heard him, on two different occasions,
declare that he had written every word of the Stranger from begin-
ning to end $ and , as his vanity could not be much interested in
such a claim , it is possible that there was at least some virtual foun-
dation for it.
The song introduced in this play, " I have a silent sorrow here,"
was avowedly written by Sheridan , as the music of it was by the
Duchess of Devonshire — two such names, so brilliant in their
respective spheres , as the Muses of Song and Yerse have seldom
had the luck to bring together. The originality of these lines has
been disputed ; and that expedient of borrowing , which their author
ought to have been independent of in every way, is supposed to
have been resorted to by his indolence on this occasion. Some verses
by Tickell are mentioned as having supplied one of the best stanzas ;
but I am inclined to think, from the following circumstances, that
this theft of Sheridan was of that venial and domestic kind — from
himself. A writer, who brings forward the accusation in the Gentle-
man's Magazine (vol. Ixxi. p. 904.), thus states his grounds : —
" In a song which I purchased at Blancl's music-shop in Holborn in
I he year 1794, intitled, 'Think not, my love,' and professing to be set
to music by Thomas Wright, (I conjecture, Organist of Newcastle-upon-
Tyne, and composer of the pretty Opera called Rusticity,) are the
following words : —
" ' Tliis treasured grief, this loved despair,
My lot for ever be ;
I5ut, dearest, may the pangs I bear
Be never known to thee ! '
" No\v, without insisting that the opening thought in Mr. Sheridan's
tamous song has been borrowed from that of " Think not, my love," the
second verse is manifestly such a theft of the lines I have quoted , as
entirely overturns Mr. Sheridan's claim to originality in the matter;
unless ' Think not, my love,' lias been written by him , and he can be
proved to have only stolen from himself."
The song lo which the writer alludes, " Think not, my love,"
was given to me, as a genuine production of Mr. Sheridan , by a
gentleman nearly connected with his family : and I have liltlc doubt
of its being one of those early love-strains which, in his tempo dv
dolci sospiri, he addressed to Miss Linley. As, therefore, it was
but " a feather of his own" that the eagle made free with, he may
be forgiven. The following is the whole of the song : —
" Think not, my love, when secret grief
Preys on my saddened heart,
TJiink. not I wish a mean relief,
•> • Or would from sorrow part.
OF R. B. SHERIDAN. 389
pri/.e the M^lis sincere,
Tli at my true fondness prove.
Nor would I wish to check the tear.
That flows from hapless love !
" Alas ! tho' doom'd to hope in vain
The joys that love requite ,
• ' Yet will I cherish all its pain .
'With sad, but dear delight.
" This treasur'd grief, this lov'd despair,
My lot for ever be ;
But , dearest , may the pangs I bear
Be never known to thee! "
Among the political events of this year the rebellion of Ireland
holds a memorable and fearful pre-eminence. The only redeeming
slipulalion which the Duke of Portland and his brother Alarmists
had annexed to their ill-judged Coalition with Mr. Pitt was,vlhata
Mslom of conciliation and justice should, at last, be adopted to-
wards Ireland. Had they but carried thus much wisdom into the
ministerial ranks with them , their defection might have been
pardoned for the good it achieved , and , in one respect , at least ,
would have resembled the policy of those Missionaries , who join
in the ceremonies of the Heathen for the purpose of winning him
over to the truth. On the contrary, however, the usual consequence
of such coalitions with Power ensued, — the good was absorbed in
the evil principle, and, by the false hope which it created , but in-
creased the mischief. Lord Fitzwilliam was not only deceived him-
self, but, still worse to a noble and benevolent nature like his,
was made the instrument of deception and mockery to millions.
His recall, in 1795, assisted by the measures of his successor, drove
Ireland into the rebellion which raged during the present year, and
of which the causes have been so little removed from that hour to
this, that if the people have become too wise to look back to it as
an example, it is assuredly not because their rulers have much
profiled by it as a lesson.
I am aware that, on the subject of Ireland and her wrongs. I
can ill trust myself with the task of expressing what I feel , or p're-
serve that moderate , historical tone, which it has been my wish to
maintain through the political opinions of this work. On every
other point, my homage to the high character of England, and of
her institutions, is prompt and cordial-, — on this topic alone my
feelings towards her have been taught to wear " the badge of bit-
I'Tiu'ss." As a citizen of the world, I would point to England, as
its brightest ornament, — but, as a disfranchised Irishman , I blush
Jo belong to her. Instead, therefore, of hazarding any farther rer-
flections of my own on the causes and character of the Rebellion
300 MEMOIRS
of 1798, I shall content jnyself with giving an extract from a Speech
which Mr. Sheridan -delivered on the subject , in the June of that
year : —
" What! when conciliation was held out to the people of Ireland,
was there any discontent ? When the Government of Ireland was agree-
able to the people, was there any discontent? After the prospect of that
conciliation was taken away, — after Lord Fitzwilliam was recalled, — after
the hopes which had been raised were blasted , — when the spirit of the
people was beaten down, insulted, despised, I will ask any gentleman
to point out a single act of conciliation which has emanated from the
Government of Ireland ? On the contrary, has not that country exhibited
one continual scene of the most grievous oppression, of the most vexatious
proceedings ; arbitrary punishments inflicted ; torture declared necessary
by the highest authority in the sister kingdom next to that of the legis-
lature ? And do gentlemen say that the indignant spirit which is roused
by such exercise of government is unprovoked? Is this conciliation? is
this lenity ? Has every thing been done to avert the evils of rebellion ? It
is the fashion to say, and the Address holds the same language, that the
rebellion which now rages in the sister-kingdom has been owing to the
machinations of ' wicked men.' Agreeing to the amendment proposed,
it was my first intention to move that these words should he omit-
ted. But, Sir, the fact they assert is true. It is, indeed, to the measures
of wicked men that the deplorable state of Inland is to be imputed. It is
to those wicked Ministers who have broken the promises they held out ;
who betrayed the party they seduced into their views, to be the instru-
ments of the foulest treachery that ever was practised against any people.
It is to those wicked Ministers who have given up that devoted country
to plunder,— resigned it a prey to this faction, by which it has so long
been trampled upon, and abandoned it to every species of insult and
oppression by which a country was ever overwhelmed, or the spirit of a
people insulted, that we owe the miseries into which Ireland is plunged,
and the dangers by which England is threatened. These evils are the
doings of wicked Ministers, and applied to them, the language of the
Address records a fatal and melancholy truth."
The popularity which the conduct of Mr. Sheridan, on the occa-
sion of the Mutiny, had acquired for him, — every where, but
among his own immediate party, — seems to have produced a sort
of thaw in the rigour of his opposition to Government ; and the
language which he now began to hold, with respect to the power
and principles of France , was such as procured for him , more
than once in the course .of the present Session , the unaccustomed
tribute of compliments from the Treasury-bench. Without, in the
least degree, questioning his sincerity in this change of tone , it
may be remarked , that the most watchful observer of the tide of
public opinion could not have taken it at the turn more seasonably
or skilfully. There was, indeed, just at this time a sensible change
in the feeling of the country. The dangers to which it had been
OF R. B. SHERIDAN. 801
reduced were great, but the crisis seemed over. The new wings
lent to Credit by the paper currency, — the return of the navy to
discipline and victory, — the disenchantment that had taken place
with respect to French principles , and the growing persuasion ,
since strengthened into conviction , that the world has never com-
mitted a more gross mistake than in looking to the French as teach-
ers of liberty, — the insulting reception of the late pacific over-
lures at Lisle , and that never-failing appeal to the pride and spirit of
Englishmen, which a threat of invading their sacred shore brings
with it, — all these causes concurred , at this moment, to rally the
people of England round the Government, and enabled the Minis-
ter to extract from the very mischiefs which himself had created
the spirit of all others most competent to bear and surmount them.
Such is the elasticity of a free country, however, for the moment,
misgoverned, — and the only glory due to the Minister under whom
such a people, in spite of misgovernment, flourishes, is that of
having proved, by the experiment, how difficult it is to ruin them.
While Mr. Sheridan took these popular opportunities of occasion-
ally appearing before the public, Mr. Fox persevered, with but
lillle interruption, in his plan of secession from Parliament alto-
gether. From the beginning of the Session of this year, when, at
the instance of his constituents, he appeared in his place to oppose
the Assessed Taxes Bill, till the month of February, 1800, he
raised his voice in the House but upon two questions — each "dig-
nusvindice," — the Abolition of the Slave-Trade, and a Change of
System in Ireland. He had thrown into his opposition too much real
feeling and earnestness to be able , like Sheridan , to soften it down ,
or shape it to the passing temper of the times. In the harbour of
private life alone could that swell subside $ and , however the coun-
try missed his warning eloquence , there is lillle doubt that his own
mind and heart were gainers by a retirement , in which he had
leisure to "prune the ruffled wings" of his benevolent spirit, — to
exchange the ambition of being great for that of being useful, and
to listen , in the stillness of retreat , to the lessons of a mild wisdom ,
of which , had his life been prolonged , his country would have fell
the full influence.
From one of Sheridan's speeches at this lime we find that the
change which had lalely taken place in his public conduct had given
rise to some unworthy imputations upon his motives. There are few
things less politic in an eminent public man than a too great readiness
lo answer accusations against his character. For, as he his , in ge-
neral, more exlensively read or heard than his accusers, the first
intimation , in most cases , that tho public receives of any charge
againsl him will be from his own answer lo it. .Neither does the
:i«2 MEMOIRS
evil rest here ; — for Iho calumny remains embalmed in Ihc defence ,
long after its own ephemeral life is gone. To this unlucky sort of
sensitiveness Mr. Sheridan was but loo much disposed to give way,
and accordingly has been himself the chronicler of many charges
against him , of which we should have been otherwise wholly igno-
rant. Of this nature were the imputations founded on his alleged
misunderstanding with the Duke of Portland, in 1789, to which I
have already made some allusion , and of which we should have
known nothing but for his own notice of it. His vindication of him-
self, in 1795, from the suspicion of being actuated by self-interest,
in his connexion with the Prince , or of having received from him
( to use his own expressions) " so much as the present of a horse
or a picture ," is another instance of the same kind , where he has
given substance and perpetuity to rumour, and marked out the
track of an obscure calumny, which would otherwise have been
forgotten. At the period immediately under our consideration he has
equally enabled us to collect , from his gratuitous defence of him-
self, that the line lately taken by him in Parliament, on the great
questions of the Mutiny and Invasion , had given rise to suspicions
of his political steadiness , and to rumours of his approaching sepa-
ration from Mr. Fox.
"lain sorry," he said, on one occasion, "that it is hardly possible for
any man to speak in this House, and to obtain credit for speaking, from
.1 principle of public spirit ; that no man can oppose a Minister without
being accused of faction ; and none, who usually opposed, can support a
•Minister, or lend him assistance in any thing, without being accused of
doing so from interested motives. 1 am not such a coxcomb as to say,
that it is of much importance \vhat part I may take ; or that it is essential
that 1 should divide a little popularity, or some emolument, with the
Ministers of t"he Crown; nor am I so vain as to imagine, that my' services
might be solicited. Certainly they have not. That might have arisen from
want of importance in myself; or from others, whom I have been in the
general habit of opposing, conceiving that I was not likely either to give up
my general sentiments, or my personal attachments. However that may
be, certain it is, they never have made any attempt to apply to me for my
assistance."
In reviewing his parliamentary exertions during this year, it
would be injustice to pass over his- speech on the Assessed Taxes
Bill , in which , among other fine passages , the following vehement
burst of eloquence occurs :
" But we have gained, forsooth, several ships by the victory of the
First of June, -by the capture of Toulon, -by the acquisition of those
charnel-houses in the West Indies, in which 5o,ooo men have been lost to
this country. Consider the price which has been paid for these successes.
For these boasted successes, I will say, give me hack the blood of En;;-
Or I!. B. SHKH1DAIN. 39«
whirh has hern shed in this fatal coolest, — give me back the
•jji> inillioas of del) I \\hi<:h it has occasioned, — give mo hack the honour
of the country, which has been tarnished, — give me back the credit of
the country, which has been destroyed,— give me back the solidity of
the Bank of England, which has been overthrown; the attachment of
the people to their ancient Constitution, which has been shaken by acts
of oppression and tyrannical laws, — give me back the kingdom of Ireland,
the connexion of which is endangered by a cruel and Outrageous system
ill military coercion, — give me back that pledge of eternal war, which
must be attended with inevitable ruin !"
. ?i ;.-_*u ...•«» •:.- -'••<!_ ' _ , — , ••' rysT3jr •.
The great success which had attended The Stranger, and the
still increasing taste for the'German Drama , induced Mr. Sheridan,
in Iho present year, to embark his fame even still more responsibly
in a venture to the same romantic shores. The play of Pizarro was
brought out on the 24lh t)f May, 1799. The heroic interest of the
plot , the splendour of the pageantry, and some skilful appeals to
public feeling in the dialogue , obtained for it at once a popularity
which has seldom been equalled. As far, indeed, as multiplied repre-
sentations and editions are a proof of success , the legitimate issue
of his Muse might well have been jealous of the fame and fortune
of their spurious German relative. When the author of the Critic
made Puff say, tc Now for my magnificence, — my noise and my
procession ! " he little anticipated the illustration which , in twenty
years afterwards , his own example would afford to that ridicule.
Not that in pageantry, when tastefully and subordinately introduced,
there is any thing to which criticism can fairly object : — it is the
dialogue of this play that is unworthy of its author, and ought never,
from either motives of profit or the vanity of success , to have been
coupled with his name. The style in which it is written belongs
neither to verse or prose , but is a sort of amphibious native of both ,
— neither gliding gracefully through the former element, nor walking
steadily on the other. In order to give pomp to the language, in-
version is substituted for metre ; and one of the worst faults of poetry,
a superfluity of epithet, is adopted, without that harmony which
alone makes it venial or tolerable.
It is some relief, however, to discover, from the manuscripts in
my possession , that Mr. Sheridan's responsibility for the defects of
Pizarro is not very much greater than his claim to a share in its
merits. In the plot, and the arrangement of the scenes , it is well
known , there is but little alteration from the German original. The
omission of the comic scene of Diego, which Kolzefaue himself
intended to omit, — the judicious suppression of Elvira's love for
Alonzo , - the introduction , so striking in representation , of Holla's
passage across the bridge , and the re-appearance of Elvira in the
39-1 MEMOIRS
habit of a nun , form , I believe , the only important points in which
the play of Mr. Sheridan deviates from the structure of the original
drama. With respecrio the dialogue , his share in its composition is
reducible to a compass not much more considerable. A few speeches,
and a few short scenes , re-written , constitute almost the whole of
the contribution he has furnished to it. The manuscript-translation,
or rather imitation, of the " Spaniards in Peru," which he used as
the ground-work ofPizarro, has been preserved among his papers;
— and , so convenient was it to his indolence to take the style as he
found it , that , except , as I have said , in a few speeches and scenes ,
which might -be easily enumerated, he adopted, with scarcely any
alteration , the exact words of the translator, whose taste , therefore ,
( whoever he may have been . ) is answerable for the spirit and style
of threc-fourlhs of the dialogue. Even that scene where Cora des-
cribes the " white buds" and l' crimson blossoms " of her infant's
teeth , which I have often heard cited as a specimen of Sheridan's
false ornament , is indebted to this unknown paraphrast for the
whole of its embroidery.
Hut though he is found to be innocent of much of the contraband
matter with which his copartner in this work had already vitiated it,
his own contributions to the dialogue are not of a much higher
or purer order. He seems to have written down to the model before
him , and to have been inspired by nothing but an emulation of
its faults. His style , accordingly, is kept hovering in the same sort
of limbo , between blank verse and prose , — while his thoughts and
images , however shining and effective on the stage , are like the
diamonds of theatrical royalty, and will not bear inspection off it.
The scene between Alonzo and Pizarro , in the third act , is one of
Jhose almost enlirely rewritten by Sheridan ; and the following
medley groupe of personifications affords a specimen of the style to
which his taste could descend : —
" Then would I point out to him where now, in clustered villages, the}
live like brethren , social and confiding, \\hile through the burning da\
Content sits basking on the cheek of Toil, til laughing Pastime leads them
io the hour of rest."
The celebrated harangue of Rolla to the Peruvians into which
Kemble used to infuse such heroic dignity, is an amplification of
the following sentences of the original , as I find them given in
Lewis's manuscript translation, of the play : —
'' Rolla. You Spaniards fight for gold; we for our country.
" ^/o/zso.They follow an adventurer to the field ; we a monarch whom
\ve love.
" Atalib. And a trod whom we adore !"
OF R. B. SHERIDAN. 395
This speech , to whose popular sentiments the play owed much
of its success , was chiefly made up by Sheridan of loans from his
own oratory. The image of the Vulture and the Lamb was taken,
as I have already remarked , from a passage in his speech on the
(rial of Hastings; — and he had, on the subject of Invasion, in the
preceding year (1798), delivered more than once- the substance of
those patriotic sentiments , which were now^so spirit-stirring in the
mouth of Holla. For instance , on the King's Message relative to pre-
paration for Invasion :—
lt The Directory may instruct their guards to make the fairest pro-
fessions of how their army is to act ; but of these professions surely not
one can be believed. The victorious Bonaparte may say that he comes
like a minister of grace, with no other purpose than to give peace to the
cottager, to restore citizens to their rights , to establish real freedom ,
and a liberal and humane government. But can there be an Englishman
so stupid, so besotted, so befooled, as to give a moment's credit to such
ridiculous professions? .... What, then, is their object? They come
for what they really want : they come for ships, for commerce, for credit ,
and for capital. Yes; they come for the sinews, the bone*— for the
marrow and the very heart's blood of Great Britain. But let us examine
what we are to purchase at this price. Liberty, it appears , is now their
staple commodity : but attend, I say, and examine how little of real liberty
they themselves enjoy, who are so forward and prodigal in bestowiag it
on others."
The speech of Rolla in the prison-scene is also an interpolation of
his own, — Kotze.bue having, far more judiciously, (considering
the unfitness of the moment for a tirade , ) condensed the reflec-
tions of Rolla into the short exclamation, "Oh, sacred Nature !
thou art still true to thyself," and then made him hurry into the
prison to his friend.
Of the translation of this play by Lewis , which has been found
among the papers , Mr. Sheridan does not appear to have made any
use ;— except in so far as it may have suggested lo him the idea of
writing a song for Cora, of which that gentleman had set him an
example in a ballad beginning ,
"Soft arc tliv slumbers, soft aiid sweet j
Hush tliee , hush tbee , hush dice , boy."
The song of Mr. Lewis , however, is introduced , with somewhat
less violence lo probability, at the beginning of the Third Act ,
where the women are waiting for the tidings of the battle , and when
(he intrusion of a ballad from the heroine, though sufficiently un-
natural , is not quite so monstrous as in the situation w hich Sheridan
has chosen for it.
The following stanza formed a part of' the song, as it was ori-
ginally written : —
30« MEMOIKS
" Tlu.se eyes tliat beaiu'd this nioru the light of youth ,
This morn I saw their gentle rays impart
• The day-spring sweet of hope, of love, of truth ,
The pure Aurora of my lover's heart.
Yet wilt thou rise , oh Suu , and waste thy light ,
"While my Alonzo's beams are quench'd in night."
The only question upon which he spoke this year was the import-
ant measure of the union , which he strenuously and at great length
opposed. Like every other measure , professing to be for the bene-
tit of Ireland , the Union has been left incomplete in the one es-
sential point, without which there is no hope of peace or prosperity
for that country. As long as religious disqualification is left to " lie
like lees at the bottom of men's hearts1," in vain doth the voice of
Parliament pronounce the word "Union" to the two islands, — a
feeling , deep as the sea that breaks between them , answers back ,
sullenly, " Separation."
Through the remainder of Mr. Sheridan's political career it is
my intention , for many reasons , to proceed with a more rapid step;
and merely to give the particulars of his public conduct , together
with such documents as I can bring to illustrate it , without enter-
ing into much discussion or comment on cither.
Of his speeches in 1800,— during which year, on account
perhaps , of the absence of Mr. Fox from the House , he was parti-
cularly industrious, — 1 shall select a few brief specimens for the
reader. On the question of the Grant to the Emperor of Germany ,
he said : —
"T do think, Sir, Jacobin principles never existed much in tins country;
and, even admitting they had, I say they have been found so hostile to
Irne liberty, that, in proportion as we love it , (and, whatever may be
said, I must still consider liberty an inestimable blessing,) we must
hate and detest these principles. I!ut, more, — I do not think they even
exist in France. They have there died the best of deaths; a death I am
more pleased to see than if it bad been effected by foreign force, — they
have stung themselves to death, and died by their own poison.''
The following is a concise and just summary of the cause and
dice Is of the French Revolutionary War : —
"France, in the beginning of the Revolution, had conceived many
romantic notions ; she was to put an end to war, and produce, by a pure
form of government , a perfectibility of mind which before had never
been realised. The Monarchs of Europe, seeing the prevalence of these
new principles , trembled for their thrones. France, also, perceiving the
hostility of Kings to her projects, supposed she could not be a Republic
without the overthrow of thrones. Such lias been the regular progress of
' "It l.iy like lees at the bottom of mien's hearts; ami, if the \ c.ssrl was but
>tirr«'d , it would conic iij).*' — BACON , Henry "VII.
OF R. B. SHERIDAN. 397
cause and effect ; but \\\\o was the first aggressor, with whom the
jealousy first arose, m-ed nut now be a matter of discussion. Both the
Republic and the Monarchs who opposed her acted on the same prin-
ciples ;_tho latter said they must exterminate Jacobins, and the former
that they must destroy Monarchs. From this source have all the calamities
of Knrope flowed; and it is now a waste of time and argument to inquire
farther into the subject."
Adverting , in his Speech on the Negotiation with France , to the
overture that had been made for a Maritime Truce, he says, with
that national feeling, which rendered him at this time so po-
pular, —
" No consideration for our ally, no hope of advantage to be derived
from joint negotiation , should have induced the English Government to
think for a moment of interrupting the course of our naval triumphs.—
This measure, Sir, would have broken the heart of the navy, and would
have damped all its future exertions. How would our gallant sailors have
felt , when , chained to their decks like galley-slaves , they saw the enemy's
vessels sailing under their bows in security, and proceeding, without a
possibility of being molested , to revictual those places which had been so
long blockaded by their astonishing skill , perseverance , and valour ? .We
never stood more in need of their services, and their feelings at no time
deserved to be more studiously consulted. The north of Europe presents
to England a most awful and threatening aspect. Without giving an opi-
nion as to the origin of these hostile dispositions, or pronouncing deci-
dedly whether they are wholly ill-founded, I hesitate not to say, that if
they have been excited because we have insisted upon enforcing the old
established Maritime Law of Europe, — because we stood boldly forth in
defence of indisputable privileges, — because we have refused to abandon
the source of our prosperity, the pledge of our security, and the founda-
tion of our naval greatness , — they ought to be disregarded or set at de-
fiance. If we are threatened to be deprived of that which is the charter of
our existence, 'which has procured us the commerce of the world, and
}>een the means of spreading our glory over every land, — if the rights
and honours of our flag are to be called in question , every risk should
be run , and every danger braved. Then we should have a legitimate
cause of war ; — then the heart of every Briton would burn with indigna-
tion, and his hand be stretched forth in defence of his country. If our
flag is to be insulted , let us nail it to the topmast of the nation ; there let
it fly, while we shed the last drop of our blood in protecting it, and let
it be degraded only when the nation itself is overwhelmed."
He thus ridicules , in the same speech , the etiquette that had
been observed in the selection of the ministers, who were to confer
with Mr. Otto : —
"This stifl'-necked policy shows insjncerity. I see 'Mr. JVYpcan and
Mr. Hammond also appointed to confer with Mr.. Otto, because thc\ arc
of the same rank. Is not this as absurd as if Lord Whitworth were to lie
sent l»> iVlersburgh, and told that lie was not to treat but with som.
?,!>R MEMOIRS
of six feetlugh, and as handsome as himself? Sir, I repeaf
that tins is a stiff-necked policy, when the lives of thousands are at stake."
In. the following year Mr. Pill was succeeded , as Prime Minister,
by Mr. Addington. The cause -assigned for this unexpected change
was the difference of opinion that existed between the King and
Mr. Pitt , with respect to the further enfranchisement of the Catho-
lics of Ireland. To this measure the Minister and some of his col-
leagues considered themselves (o have been pledged by the Act of
T'nion; but, on finding that they could not carry it, against the
scruples of their Royal Master, resigned.
Though Mr. Pitt so far availed himself of this alleged motive of
his abdication as to found on it rather an indecorous appeal to the
Catholics , in which he courted popularity for himself at the expense
of that of the Ring , it was suspected that he had other and less
disinterested reasons for his conduct. Indeed , while he took merit
(o himself for thus resigning his supremacy, he well knew that he
still commanded it with " a falconer's voice," and. whenever he
pleased, ''could lure the tassel-gentle back again." The facility
with which he afterwards returned to power, without making any
stipulation for the measure now held to be essential , proves either
thai the motive now assigned for his resignation was false , or that ,
having sacrificed power to principle in 1801, he took revenge by
snaking principle, in its turn, give way to power in 1804.
During the early part of the new administration , Mr. Sheridan
appears to have rested on his arms , — having spoken so rarely and
briefly throughout the session as not to have furnished to the col-
lector of his speeches a single specimen of oratory worth recording.
It is not till the discussion of the Definitive Treaty, in May, 1802,
lhat he is represented as having professed himself friendly to the
existing Ministry : — " Certainly," he said, " I have in several
respects given my testimony in favour of the present Ministry, — in
nothing more than for making the best peace, perhaps, they could,
-after their predecessors had left them in such a deplorable situation."
It was on this occasion, however, that, in ridiculing the under-
standing supposed to exist between the Ex-minister and his succes-
sor, he left such marks of his wit on the latter as all his subsequent
friendship could not efface. Among other remarks , full of humour,
Jie said , —
.«' I should like to support the present Minister on fair ground; but
what is he? a sort of outside, passenger, — or rather a man leading the
horses round a corner, while reins, whip, and all, are in the hands of
the coachman on the box! (looking at Mr. Pitt's elevated seat, three or
four benches above that of lite Treasury. ) Why not have an union of the
two Ministers , or, at least , some intelligible connexion ? When the Ex-
OF R. B! SHERIDAN. 309
minister quitted oflice, almost all \\\e subordinate Ministers kept their
places. How \vas it that the whole family did not-move together? Had he
only one covered waggon to curry friends and goods ? or has he left direc-
tions behind him that they may know whereto call? I remember a fable
of Arislnp hanes's , which is translated from Greek into .decent English.
— I mention this for the country gentlemen. It is of a man that sat so long *
on a seat (about as long , perhaps, as the Ex-minister did on the Trea- \
sury-bench), that he grew to it. When Hercules pulled him off, he left .
all the sitting part of the man behind him. The House can make the 5
allusion '."
We have here an instance , in addition to the many which I have
remarked , of his adroitness , not only in laying claim to all waifs
of wit , '' ubi non apparebat do minus /' but in stealing the wit
himself, wherever he could find it. This happy application of the
fable of Hercules and Theseus to the Ministry had been first made by
(iilberl Wake&td , in a Letter to Mr. Fox, which the latter read to
Sticridan a few d&ys before the Debate ; and the only remark that
Sheridan made, on hearing it, "What an odd pedantic fancy!*1
Hul the wit knew well the value of the jewel that the pedant had
raked up, and lost no time in turning it to account, with all his ac-
customed skill. The letter of Wakefield, in which the application of
Hie fable occurs, has been omitted, I know not why, in his pub-
lished Correspondence with Mr. Fox : but a letter of Mr. Fox , in
Hie same collection, thus alludes to it : — " Your story of Theseus
is excellent, as applicable to our present rulers : if you could point
out to me where I could find it, I should be much obliged to you.
The Scholiast on Aristophanes is too wide a description." Mr. Wake-
1 The following is another highly hnmoroas passage from this Speech :—
"But let France have colonies! Oh, yes! let her have a good trade, that she
may be afraid :of war, says the Learned Member, — that's the way to make Bona-
parte love peace. He has had, to be sure, a sort of military education. He has
been abroad, and is rather rough company, bnt if you pot him behind the
renter a little /he will mend exceedingly. When I was reading the Treaty, I
thought all the names of foreign places, viz. Pondicherry, Chandenagore , Cochin,
Martinico, etc. all cessions. Not they, — they are all so many traps and holes to
catch this silly fellow in , and make a merchant of him ! I really think the best
way npon this principle would be this: — let the merchants of London open a
public subscription, and set him up at once. I hear a great deal respecting a certain
itatue about to be erected to the Right Honourable Gentleman (Mr. Pitt) now
in my eye , at a great expense. Send all that money over to the First Consul , and
give him , what yon calk of so much, Capital, to begin trade with. I hope the
liight Honourable Gentleman over the way will, like the First Consul, refuse a
Maine for ^the' present , and postpone it as a work to posterity. There is no harm,
li i*M vcr, in marking out the place. The Right Honourable Gentleman is mpsing,
perhaps, on what square, or place, he will choose for its erection. I recommend
the Bank of England. Now for the material. Not gold : no , no !— he h»s not left
enough of it. I should, however, propose papier mdcJie and old bank-notes!"
100 MEMOIRS
Held, in his answer, says,-t-'vjMy Aristophanes, with the Scholia, is
not here. If I am right in my recollection , the story probably oc-
curs in the Scholia on the Frogs, and would soon be found by re-
ference to the name of Theseus, in Kuster's Index/1
Another instance of (his propensity in Sheridan ( which made him
a sort of Catiline in wit , *' covetous of another's wealth, and pro-
fuse of his own ,") occurred during the preceding Session. As he was
walking down to the House with Sir Philip Francis and another
friend , on the day when the Address of Thanks on the Peace was
moved, Sir Philip Francis pithily remarked, that " it was a Peace
which every one would be glad of , but no one would be proud of."
Sheridan, who was in a hurry to get to the House, did not appear to
attend to the observation ; — but before he had been many minutes
in his seat , he rose , and , in the course of a short speech ( evidently
made for the purpose of passing his stolen coin as soon as possible;,
said, "This , Sir, is a peace which every one will be glad of, but
no one can be proud of."
The follow ing letter from Dr. Parr to Sheridan , this year, records
an instance of dclicale kindness which renders it well worthy of pre-
servation : —
" DEAR SIR ,
" I believe that you and my old pupil Tom feel a lively interest in mv
happiness , and, therefore, I am eager to inform you, that without any
solicitation, and in the most handsome manner, Sir Francis Burdett has
offered me the rectory of Grafl'ham , in Huntingdonshire ; that the yearly
value of it now amounts to 2oo/., and is capable of considerable improve-
ment ; that the perferment is tenable with my Northamptonshire rectory;
that the situation is pleasant; and that, by making it my place of resi-
dence, I shall be nearer to my respectable scholar and friend, Edward
Maltby, to the University of Cambridge, and to those Norfolk connexions
which I value most highly.
" I am not much skilled in ecclesiastical negociations ; and all my efforts
to avail myself of the very obliging kindness conditionally intended for
me by the Duke of Norfolk completely failed. But the noble friendship of
Sir Francis Burdett has set every thing right. I cannot refuse myself the
great satisfaction of laying before you the concluding passage in Sir Fran-
cis's letter : —
" ' I acknowledge that a great additional motive with me to the ofler
I now make Dr. Parr is , that I believe T cannot do any thing more plea-
sing to bis friends , Mr. Fox, Mr. Sheridan, and Mr. Knight ; and I desire;
vou, Sir, to consider yourself as obliged to them only.'
"You will readily conceive, that I was highly gratified with this
1 A similar theft was his obs«rvation , that "-half the Debt of England had
been incnrred in pnlling doWn the Bdurbons, and the other half in selling them
up" — which pointed remark he had heard, in conversation, from Sir Arthur
l'i«ott.
OF R. B. SHERIDAN. 401
>tr living and important passage, and that I wish for an early opportunity
of communicating with yourself, and Mr. Fox , and Mr. Knight.
" I beg my best compliments to Mrs. Sheridan and Tom; and I have
the honour to be, Dear Sir , your very faithful well-wisher, arid respect-
ful, obedient Servant,
" September1*']. Buckden. "S. PABR.
" Sir Francis sent his own servant to my house at Hilton with the
letter ; and my wife, on reading it, desired the servant to bring it to me
>t fitickden, near Huntingdon, wbere I yesterday received it."
II was about this time that the Primary Electors of the Na-
tional Institute of France having proposed Haydn , the great com-
poser, and 3Ir. Sheridan, as candidates for the class of Literature
and the Fine Arts, the Institute \ with a choice not altogether inde-
fensible , elected Haydn. Some French epigrams on this occurrence,
which appeared in the Courier, seem to have suggested to Sheridan
the idea of writing a few English jeux £ esprit on the same subject,
which were intended for the news-papers, but, I rather think, never
appeared. These verses show that he was not a little piqued by the
decision of the Institute; and the manner in which he avails himself
of his anonymous character to speak of his own claims to the dis-
tinction , is , it must be owned , less remarkable for modesty than
for truth. But Vanity, thus in masquerade, may be allowed some
little licence. The following is a specimen : —
" The wise decision all admire ;
'Twas just, beyond dispute —
Sound taste ! which, to Apollo's lyre
Preferr'd — a German flute .' "
Mr. Kemble, who had been for some time Manager of Drury-
Lane Theatre, was , in the course of the year 1800-1 , tempted, not-
withstanding the knowledge which his situation must have given him
of the embarrassed state of the concern , to enter into negotiation
with Sheridan for the purchase of a share in the properly. How much
anxiety the latter felt to secure such an associate in the establishment
appears strongly from the following paper, drawn up by him , to
accompany the documents submitted to Kemble during the nego-
tiation , and containing some particulars of the property of Drury-
Lane, which will be found not uninteresting: —
" Outline of the Terms on which it is proposed that Mr. Kemble shall
purchase a Quarter in the Property of Drury-Latoe Theatre.
" I really think there cannot be a negotiation , in matter of purchase
and sale, so evidently fur the advantage of both parties, if brought to a
satisfactory conclusion.
" I am decided that the management; of the theatre cannot be res p. < t-
ed , or successful, but in the hands of an actual proprietor; and still the
?6
402 MEMOIRS
}>ctter , if he is himself in the profession , and at the head of it.. I am de-
sirous, therefore, that Mr. Kemhle should be a proprietor and manager.
" Mr. Kemble is the person, of all others, who must naturally be de-
sirous of both situations. He is at the head of his profession, without a
rival ; he is attached to it and desirous of elevating its character. He may
be assured of proper respect, etc. while I have the theatre ; but I do not
think he could brook his situation were the property to pass into vulgar
and illiberal hands,— an event which he knows contingencies might pro-
duce. Laying aside, then, all affectation of indifference, so common in
making bargains, let us set out with acknowledging that it is mutually
our interest to agree, if we can. At the same time , let it be avowed,
that I must be considered as trying to get as good a price as I can , and
Mr. Kemble to buy as cheap as he can. In parting with theatrical pro-
perty there is no standard, or measure, to direct the price : the whole
question is, what are the probable profits, and what is such a proportion
of them worth?'
" I bought of Mr. Garrick at the rate of 7O,ooo/. for the whole theatre,
I bought of Mr. Lacey at the rate of g5,ooo/. ditto. I bought of Dr. Ford
at the rate of 86,ooo/. ditto. In all these cases there was a perishable
patent , and an expiring lease , each having to run , at the different periods
of the purchases, from ten to twenty years only.
"AH these purchases have undoubtedly answered Avell ; but in the
chance of a Third Theatre consisted the risk ; and the want of size
and accommodation must have produced it, had the theatres conti-
nued as they were. But the great and important feature in the present
property, and which is never for a moment to be lost sight of, is,
that the Monopoly is, morally speaking, established for ever, at least
as well as tlie Monarchy, Constitution, Public Funds, etc., — as ap-
pears by JN'o. i, being the copy of 'The Final Arrangement' signed by
the Lord Chamberlain , by authority of His Majesty , the Prince of Wales,
the Duke of Bedford, etc.; and the dormant patent of Covent-Garden ,
that former terror of Drury-Lane , is perpetually annexed to the latter.
So that the value of Drury-Lane at present, and in the former sales, is
out of all comparison, — independently of the new building, superior
size, raised prices, etc. etc. But the incumbrances on the theatre, whose
annual charge must be paid before tliere can be any surplus profit, are
much greater than in Mr. Garrick'stime, or on the old theatre afterwards.
Undoubtedly they are , and very considerably greater ; but what is the
proportion in the receipts? Mr. Garrick realised and left a fortune of
i4o,ooo/. (having lived, certainly, at no mean expense), acquired in
--years, on an average annual receipt of a5,ooo/. (qu. this?) Our re-
ceipts cannot be stated at less than 6o,ooo/. per ann.; and it is demon-
strable that preventing the most palpable frauds and abuses, with even a
tolerable system of exertion in the management, must bring it, at the
least, to 7J,ooo/.; and this estimate does not include the advantages to be
derived from the new {avern, passages, Chinese hall, etc., — an aid to the
receipt, respecting the amount of which I am very sanguine. What,
then , is the probable profit, and what is a quarter of it worth ? No. 5 is
the amount of three seasons' receipts, the only ones on which an attempt
at an average could be justifiable. No. 4- is *ne future estimate, on a sys-
OF H. B. SHERIDAN. 403
tern of exertion and good management. No. 5. the actual annual Encum-
brances. No. 6 the nightly expenses. No. 7. the estimated profits. Cal-
culating on \\hich, I demand, for a quarter of the property * * * *
reserving to myself the existing private boxes , but no more to be created,
and the fruit-offices and houses not part of the theatre.
" I assume that Mr. Kemble and I agree, as to the price , annexing the
following conditions to our agreement : — Mr. Kemble shall have his en-
gagement as an actor for any rational time he pleases. Mr. Kemble shall
be manager, with a clear salary of 5oo guineas per annum, and * *
per cent, on the clear profits. Mr. Sheridan engages to procure from
Messrs. Hammersleys a loan to Mr. Kemble of ten thousand pounds, part
of the purchase-money, for four years, for which loan he is content to
become collateral security, and also to leave his other securities , now in
their hands, in mortgage for the same. And for the payment of the rest
of the money, Mr. Sheridan is ready to give Mr. Kemble every facility
his circumstances will admit of. It is not to be overlooked, that if a pri-
vate box is also made over to Mr. Kemble, for the whole term of the
theatre lease, its value cannot be stated at less -than 35oo/. Indeed, it
might at anytime produce to Mr. Kemble, or his assigns, 3oo/. per an-
num. Vide No. 8. This is a material deduction from the purchase-money
to be paid.
" Supposing all this arrangement made , I conceive Mr. Kemble's in-
come would stand thus : —
L. s. d.
Salary as an actor i o5o o o
In lieu of benefit, 3i5 o o
As manager , 5a5 o o
Per centage on clear profit , . ... 3oo o o
Dividend on quarter-share, ..." a5oo o o
L. 4690
" I need not say how soon this would clear the whole of the purchase.
With regard to the title, etc., Mr. Crews and Mr. Pigott are to decide.
As to debts, the share must be made over to Mr. Kemble free from a
claim even ; and for this purpose all demands shall be called in , by public
advertisement, to be sent to Mr. Kemble's own solicitor. In short,
Mr. Crews shall be satisfied that there does not exist an unsatisfied de-
mand on the theatre, or a possibility of Mr. Kemble being involved in
the risk of a shilling. Mr. Hammersley , or such person as Mr. Kemble
and Mr. Sheridan shall agree on, to be Treasurer, and receive and ac-
count for the whole receipts, pay the charges , trusts, etc. ; and at the
close of the season , the surplus profits to the proprietors. A clause in case
of death , or sale, to give the refusal to each other."
The following letter from Sheridan to Kemble, in answer, ;i> it
appears, to some complaint or remonstrance from the latter, in his
capacity of Manager, is too curiously characteristic of the writer to
be omitted : —
' " I put this on the very lowest speculation."
401 MEMOIRS
" DEAR KEMBLE,
" If I had not a real good opinion of your principles and indentions upou
all subjects, and a very bad opinion of your nerves and philosophy upon
some , I should take very ill indeed, the letter I received from you this
evening.
"That the management of the theatre is a situation capable of be-
coming troublesome is information which I do not want, and a discovery
which I thought you had made long since.
"I should be sorry to write to you gravely on your offer, because I
must consider it as a nervous flight, which it would be as unfriendly in
me to notice seriously, as it would be in you seriously to have made it.
" What I am most serious in is a determination that, while the
theatre is indebted, and others, for it and for me, are so involved and
pressed as they are, I will exert myself, and give every attention and
judgment in my power to the establishment of its interests. In you I
hoped, and do hope, to find an assistant, on principles of liberal and
friendly confidence, — I mean confidence that should be above touchiness
and reserve , and that should trust to me to estimate the value of that
assistance. •
"If there is any thing amiss in your mind, notarising from the
/rouble.fomcjiess of your situation , it is childish and unmanly not to
disclose it to me. The frankness with which I have always dealt towards
you entitles me to expect that you should have done so.
" But I have no reason to believe this to be the case; and, attributing
your letter to a disorder which I know ought not to be indulged, I
prescribe that you shall keepyour appointment at the Piazza CofFee-house,
to-morrow at five, and, taking four bottles of claret instead of three, to
which in sound health you might stint yourself, forget that you ever
wrote the letter, as I shall that I ever received it.
" R. B. SHERIDAN."
CHAPTER XIX.
State of Parties, — Offer of a place to Mr. T.Sheridan — Receivership of
the Duchy of Cornwall bestowed upon Mr. Sheridan. — Return of
Mr. Pitt to Power. — Catholic question. — Administration of Lord
Grenville and Mr. Fox. — Death of Mr. Fox. — Representation of West-
minster.— Dismission of the Ministry. — Theatrical Negotiation. —
Spanish Question. — Letter to the Prince.
DURING the short interval of peace into which the country was
now lulled , — like a ship becalmed for a moment in the valley be-
tween two vast waves, — such a change took place in the relative po-
sitions and bearings of the parties that had been so long arrayed
against each other, and such new boundaries and divisions of opi-
nion were formed, as considerably altered fhe map of the political
world. While Mr. Pitt lent his sanction to the new Administration ,
they who had made common Cause with him in resigning, violently
OF R. B. SHERJPAN. 405
opposed it; and, while the Ministers were thus (h\\;uled fay those
who had hi Ihcrto always agreed with them, they were supported
by those Whigs with whom they had before most vehemently dif-
fered. Among this latter class of their friends was, as I have al-
ready remarked, Mr. Sheridan, — who, convinced that the only
chance of excluding Mr. Pitt from power lay in strengthening the
hands of those who were in possession, not only gave them the aid of
his own name and eloquence , but endeavoured to impress 4hc same
\ic\\s upon Mr. Fox, and exerted his influence also to procure the
sanction of Carlton-House in their favour.
It cannot, indeed, be doubled that Sheridan, at this time, though
still (he friend of Mr. Fox, had ceased, in a great degree, to be his
follower. Their views with -respect to the renewal of the war were
wholly different, while SheVidan joined in the popular feeling against
France, and showed his knowledge of 'that great instrument, the
Public Mind , by approaching it only with such themes as suited the
martial mood to which it was tuned , the loo confiding spirit of Fox
breathed nothing but forbearance and peace ; — and he who, in 1786,
had proclaimed the " nataral enmily " of England and France, as
an argumenl against their commercial intercourse, now asked, with
the softened tone which time and retirement had taught him,
"• whether France was/or ever to be considered our rival ' ? "
The following characteristic note, written by him previously to
the debate on the army Estimates, (Decembers , 1802,) shows a
consciousness that the hold which he had. once had upon his friend
was loosened : —
"DEAR SHERIDAN,
" I mean to be in town for Monday,— that is, for the Army- As for
to-morrow, it is no matter; — I am for a largish fleet, though perhaps
not quite so large as they mean. Pray, do not be absent Monday,
and let me have a quarter of an hour's conversation before the bu-
siness begins. Remember, I do not wish you to be inconsistent , at any
rate. Pitt's opinion by Proxy is ridiculous beyond conception, and I hope
you will show it in that light. I am very much against your abusing
Honaparte, because I am sure it is impolitic both for the country and
ourselves. But, as you please; — only,. for God's sake, Peace '.
" Yours ever ,
" Tuesday night. "C.J. Fox."
it was about this period that the writer of these pages had, for
the lirst lime , the gratification of meeting Mr. Sheridan , at Donihg-
ton-Park, the scat of the present Marquis of Hastings; — a cir-
1 Speech ou the Address of Thanks, in 1SIC!.
3 These last words are an interesting illustration of the line in Mr. Kogcrs's
Verses on this statesman : —
" ' Peace",' when lie spoke, Mras ever on his tongue."
406 MEMOIRS
cumstance which he recalls , not only with those lively impressions
that our first admiration of genius leaves behind, but with many
other dreams of youth and hope , that still endear to him the man-
sion where that meeting took place, and among which gratitude to
its noble owner is the only one, perhaps, that has not faded.
Mr. Sheridan, I remember, was just then furnishing a new house,
and talked of apian he had of levying contributions on his friends
for a library. A set of books from each would , he calculated ,
amply accomplish it, and already the intimation of his design had
begun to k' breathe a soul into the silent walls ' ." The splendid and
well-chosen library ofDoninglon was, of course, not slow in fur-
nishing ils contingent ; and little was it foreseen into what badges of
penury these gifts of friendship would be converted at last.
As some acknowledgment of the services which Sheridan had ren-
dered to the Ministry, ( though professedly as a tribute to his public
character in general,) Lord St. Vincent, about this time, made
an offer to his son , Mr. Thomas Sheridan , of the place of Re-
gistrar of the Vice-Admiralty Court of Malta , — an office which,
during a period of war , is supposed to be of considerable emolu-
ment. The first impulse of Sheridan , when consulted on the pro-
posal , was, as I have heard , not unfavourable to his son's accept-
ance of it. But , on considering the new position which he had ,
himself, lately taken in politics , and (he inference that might be
drawn against the independence of his motives , if he submitted to
an obligation which was but too liable to be interpreted , as less a
return for past services than a lien upon him for future ones , he
thought it safest for his character to sacrifice the advantage, and,
desirable as was the provision for his son , obliged him to decline it.
The following passages of a letter to him from Mrs. Sheridan on
this subject do the highest honour to her generosity, spirit, and
good sense. They also confirm what has generally been understood,
that the King , about this time , sent a most gracious message to
Sheridan , expressive of the approbation with which he regarded his
public conduct , and of the pleasure he should feel in conferring
upon him some mark of his Royal favour : —
" I am more anxious than I can express about Tom's welfare. It is
indeed unfortunate that you have been obliged to refuse these things
for him , but surely there could not be two opinions ; yet why will you
neglect to observe those attentions tbat honour does not compel you to
refuse ? Don't you know that when once the King takes offence , he was
never known to forgive? I suppose it would be impossible to have your
motives explained to him , because it would touch his weak side , yet
any thing is better than his attcibuting your refusal to contempt and
' Rogers.
OF R. B. "SHERIDAN. 407
indifference. Would to God I could bear these necessary losses instead of
Tom, particularly as I so entirely approve of your conduct."
"I trust you will be able to do something positive for Tom about
money. I am willing to make any sacrifice in the woiAd for that purpose,
and to live in any way whatever. Whatever he has no\v ought to be
certain , or how will he know how to regulate his expenses ? "
The fate, indeed, of young Sheridan was peculiarly tantalizing.
Horn and brought up in the midst of those bright hopes , which so
long encircled his father's path , he saw them all die away as he
became old enough to profit by them , leaving difficulty and disap-
pointment, his only inheritance, behind. Unprovided with any
profession by which he could secure his own independence , and
shut out , as in this instance, from those means of advancement,
which , it was feared, might compromise the independence of his
father, he was made the victim even of the distinction of his situa-
tion , and paid dearly for the glory of being the son of Sheridan. In
the expression of his face , he resembled much his beautiful mother,
and derived from her also the fatal complaint of which he died. His
popularity in society was unexampled ,T— but he knew how to attach
as well as amuse ; and , though living chiefly with that class of per-
sons, who pass over the surface of life, like Camilla over the corn,
without leaving any impression of themselves behind, he had manly
and intelligent qualities , that deserved a far better destiny. There
are, indeed, few individuals, whose lives have been so gay and
thoughtless, whom so many remember with cordiality and interest ;
and, among the numerous instances of discriminating good nature,
by which the private conduct of His Royal Highness the Duke of
York is distinguished , there are none that do him more honour
than his prompt and efficient kindness to the interesting family that
the son of Sheridan has left behind him.
Soon after the Declaration of War against France, when an im-
mediate invasion was threatened by the enemy, the Heir Apparent,
with the true spirit of an English Prince, came forward to make an
offer of his personal service to the country. A correspondence upon
the subject, it is well known , ensued, in the course of which His
Royal Highness addressed letters to Mr. Addington, to the Duke
of York , and the Ring. It has been sometimes staled that these let-
ters were from the pen of Mr. Sher4dap ; but the first of the series
was written by Sir Robert Wilson , and the remainder by Lord
Hutchinson.
The death of Joseph Richardson , which took place this year,
was fell as strongly by Sheridan as any thing can be felt by those
who, in the whirl of worldly pursuits, revolve too rapidly round
Self, to let any thing rest long upon their surface. With a fidelity
408 MEMOIRS
to his old habits of unpunctualily, at which the shade of Richardson
might have smiled, he arrivedioo late at Bagshot for the funeral of
his friend, but succeeded in persuading the good-natured clergy-
man to perform the ceremony over again. Mr. John Taylor, a gen-
tleman , whose love of good-fellowship and wit has made him the
welcome associate of some of the brightest men of his day, was one
of the assistants at this singular scene, and also joined in the party
at the inn at Bedfont afterwards , where Sheridan , it is said , drained
the " Cup of Memory " to his friend, till he found -oblivion at the
bottom.
At the close of the session of 1803 , that strange diversity of opi-
nions , into which the two leading parlies were decomposed by the
resignation of Mr. Pitt , had given way to new varieties , both of
cohesion and separation , quite as little to be expected from the
natural affinities of the ingredients concerned in them. Mr. Pitt ,
upon perceiving , in those to whom he had delegated his power, an
inclination to surround themselves with such strength from the ad-
verse ranks as would emtble them to contest his resumption of the
trust, had gradually withdrawn the sane lion which he at first afford-
ed them , and taken his station by the side of the other two parlies
in opposition , without . however, encumbering himself, in his
views upon office, with either. By a similar movement, though
upon different principles, Mr. Fox and the Whigs, who had begun
by supporting the Ministry against the strong War-party of which
Lord Grenville and Mr. Windham were the leaders , now entered
into close co-operation with this new Opposition , and seemed in-
clined to forget both recent and ancient differences in a combined
assault upon the tottering Administration of Mr. Addington.
The only parties, perhaps, thai acted with consistency through
these transactions, were Mr. Sheridan and the few who followed
him on one side , and Lord Grenville and his friends on the other.
The support which the former had given to the Ministry, — from a
conviction thai such was the true policy of his party, — he persevered
in , notwithstanding the suspicions it drew down upon him , to the
Jast ; and . to the last , deprecated the connexion with the Grenvilles ,
as entangling his friends in the same sort of hollow partnership, out
of which they had come bankrupts in character and confidence be-
fore '. In like manner, it must be owned , the Opposition, of which
1 In a letter written this year by Mr. Thomas Sheridan to his father, there is
llie following passage: —
" I am glad you intend writing to Lord ; he is quite right abbnt politics, —
reprobates the idea most strongly of any union with the Grenvilles, etc., which,
he says , he sees Is Fox's leaning. ' I Agreed with your father perfectly on the sub-
ject, when I left him in town; Jbut when I saw Charles at St." Ann's Hill, I per-
eeived he was wrong and obstinate.'"
OF R. B. SHERIDAN. 409
Lord Grenville was Ihc head . held a course direct and undeviatinp
from beginning to end. Unfettered by those reservations in favour
of Addington , which so lorig embarrassed the movements of their
former leader, .they at once started in opposition to the Peaee and
the Ministry, and, with not only Mr. Pitt and Mr. Fox, but the
whole people of England, against them,. persevered till the.y had
ranged all these several parties on their side : — nor was it altogether
without reason that this party afterwards boasted that, if any aban-
donment of principle had occurred in the connexion between them
and the Whigs-, • the surrender was "assuredly not from their side.
Early in the year 1804 , on the death of Lord Elliot, the office of
Receiver of the Duchy of Cornwall , which had been held by that
nobleman, was bestowed by the Prince of Wales upon Mr. Sheri-
dan , " as a trifling proof of that sincere friendship His Royal High-
mv, had always professed and felt for him through a long series of
years." His Royal Highness also added, in the same communica-
tion, the very cordial words , "I wish to God it was belter worth
your acceptance."
The following letter from Sheridan to Mr. Addington , commu-
nicating the intelligence of this appointment, shows prelly plainly
the terms on which he not only now stood, but was well inclined to
continue , with that Minister : —
" George- Street , Tuesday evening.
DEAR SIR,
"Convinced as I am of the sincerity of your good will towards me,
1 do not regard it as an impertinent intrusion to inform you that the
Prince has, in the most gracious manner, and wholly unsolicited , been
pleased to appoint me to the late Lord Elliot's situation in the Ducliy of
Cornwall. I feel a desire lo communicate this to you myself, because
I feel a confidence that you will be glad of it. It has been my pride and
pleasure to have exerted my bumble efforts to serve tbe Prince without
ever accepting the slightest obligation from him ; but, in the present case,
and under tbe present circumstances, I think it would have been really,
false pride and apparently mischievous affectation to have declined this
mark of His Royal Highness's confidence and favour. I will not disguise
that, at tins peculiar crisis, I am greatly gratified at this event. Had it
been the result of a mean and subservient devotion to tbe Prince's every
wish and object, I could neither have respected tbe gift, tbe giver, or
myself; but, when I consider bow recently it was my misfortune to find
myself compelled by a sense of duty, stronger than my attachment to
bim, wholly to risk the situation Ibejd in, his confidence ami favour, ami
that upon a subject ' on which bis feelings were so eager and irritable ,
1 The offer made by the Prince of his personal services in 1803, — on uliicli
occasion Sheridau coincided with the views of Mr. AcUlingloa somewhat more
lhan was agreeable to His Royal Hlphm-.ss.
410 MEMOIRS
I cannot but regard the increased attention , with which he has since
honoured me , as a most gratifying demonstration that he has clearness
of judgment and firmness of spirit to distinguish the real friends to his
true glory and interests, from the mean and mercenary sycophants,
who fear and abhor that such friends should be near him. It is satisfac-
tory to me, also, that this appointment gives me the title and opportunity
of seeing the Prince, on trying occasions, openly and in the face of day ,
and puts aside the mask of mystery and concealment. I trust I need not
add, that whatever small portion of fair influence I may at any time
possess with the Prince, it shall be uniformly exerted to promote those
feelings of duty and affection towards their Majesties, which, though
seemingly interrupted by adverse circumstances , I am sure are in his
heart warm and unalterable — and, as far as I may presume, that general
concord throughout his illustrious family, which must be looked to by
every honest subject as an essential part of the public strength at this
momentous period. I have the honour to be, with great respect and
esteem ,
" Your obedient Servant,
" R. B. SHERIDAN."
" Right Hon. Henry Addingion."
The same views that influenced Mr. Sheridan, Lord Moira, and
others, in supporting an Administration which, with all its defects,
they considered preferable to a relapse into the hands of Mr. Pitt ,
had led Mr. Tierney, at the close of the last Session, to confer
upon it a still more efficient sanction , by enrolling himself in ils
ranks as Treasurer of the Navy. In the early part of the present
year, another ornament of the Whig party, Mr. Erskine, was on
the point of following in the same footsteps , by accepting, from
Mr. Addington , the office of Attorney-General. He had , indeed ,
proceeded so far in his intention as to submit the overtures of the
Minister to the consideration of the Prince , in a letter which was
transmitted to His Royal Highness by Sheridan. The answer of the
Prince, conveyed also through Sheridan, while it expressed the
most friendly feelings towards Erskine , declined , at the same time ,
giving any opinion as to either his acceptance or refusal of the office
of Attorney-General } if offered to hkn under the present circum-
stances. His Royal Highness also added the expression of his sincere
regret, that a proposal of this nature should have been submitted to
his consideration by one, of whose attachment and fidelity to himself
he was well convinced , but who ought to have felt, .from the line of
conduct adopted and persevered in by His Royal Highness, that he
was the very last person that should have been applied to for either
his opinion or countenance respecting the political conduct or con-
nexions of any public character, — especially of one so intimately
connected with him , and belonging to his family.
If, at any time , Sheridan had entertained the idea of associating
OF R. B. SHERIDAN. 411
himself, by office, with the Ministry of Mr. Addington (and pro-
posals to this effect were, it is certain , made to him) , "his knowledge
of the existence of such feelings as prompted this answer to Mr. Ers-
kine would , of course , have been sufficient to divert him from the
intention.
The following document, which I have found, in his own hand-
writing, and which was intended, apparently, for publication in the
newspapers, contains some particulars with respect to the proceed-
ings of his party at this time, which, coming from such a source,
may be considered -as authentic : —
" STATE OF PARTIES.
" Among the various rumours of Coalitions, or attempted Coalitions ,
we have already expressed our disbelief in that reported to have taken
place between the Grenville-Windhamites and Mr. Fox. At least, if it
was ever in negotiation, we have reason to think it received an early
check , arising from a strong party of the Old Opposition protesting
against it. The account of this transaction, as whispered in the political
circles, is as follows : —
" In consequence of some of the most respectable members of the
Old Opposition being sounded on the subject , a meeting was held at
Norfolk-House; when it was determined, with very few dissentient
voices, to present a friendly remonstrance on the subject to Mr. Fox,
stating the manifold reasons which obviously presented themselves
against such a procedure, both as affecting Character and Party. It was
urged that the present Ministers had , on the score of innovation on the
Constitution, given the Whigs no pretence for complaint whatever; and,
as to their alleged incapacity, it remained to be proved that they were
capable of committing errors and producing miscarriages, equal to those
which had marked the councils of their predecessors, whom the measure
in question was expressly calculated to replace in power. At such a mo-
mentous crisis , therefore , waving all considerations of past political
provocation, to attempt, by the strength and combination of party, to
expel the Ministers of His Majesty's choice , and to force into his closet
those whom the Whigs ought to be the first to rejoice that he had
excluded from it, was staled to be a proceeding which would assuredly
revolt the public feeling, degrade the character of Parliament , and
produce possibly incalculable mischief to the country.
" We understand that Mr. Fox's reply was , that he would never take
any Political step against the wishes and advice of the majority oi his old
friends.
" The paper is said to have been drawn up by Mr. Erskine, and to
have been presented to Mr. Fox by His Grace of Norfolk, on the day His
Majesty was pronounced to be recovered from his first illness. Rumour
places among the supporters of this measure the written authority of
the Duke of Northumberland and the Earl of Moira, with the signatures
of Messrs. Erskine, Sheridan, Shum, Curwen , Western, Brogden , and
A long et eastern. It is said also that the Prince's sanction had been pre-
viously given to the Duke, — His Royal Highness deprecating all Parly-
• 12 MKMOIfiS
struggle, at a moment when the defence ot all that is de.hr to Britons
ought to be the" single sentiment that should iill the puhlic mind.
" We do not vouch for the above being strictly accurate; but \ve are
confident that it is not far from the truth."
The illness of the King , referred to in this paper, had been firs!
publicly announced in the month of February, and was for some time
considered of so serious a nature , that arrangements were actually
in progress for the establishment of a Regency. Mr. Sheridan , who
now formed a sort of connecting link between Carlton-House and the
Minister, took, of course , a leading part in the hegociations prepa-
ratory to such a measure. It appears , from a letter of Mr. Fox on
the subject, that the Prince and another person , whom it is unne-
cessary to name , were atone moment not a little alarmed by a rumour
of an intention to associate the Duke of York and the Queen in the
Regency. Mr. Fox, however, begs of Sheridan to tranquillize their
minds on this point : — the intentions (he adds) of "the Doctor ',"
though bad enough in all reason , do not go to such lengths ; and a
proposal of this nature, from any other quarter, could be easily
defeated.
Within about two months from Ihe dale of the Remonstrance ,
which , according to a statement already given , was presented to
Mr. Fox by his brother Whigs , one of the consequences which it
prognosticated from the connexion of their party with the Grenvillcs
took place , in the resignation of Mr. Addinglon and the return of
Mr. Pill to power.
The confidence of Mr. Pitt, in thus taking upon himself, almost
single-handed , Ihe government of the country at such an awful cri-
sis ," was , he soon perceived , n6t shared by the public. A general
expectation had prevailed that the three great Parties , which had
lately been encamped together on the field of Opposition , would
have each sent its Chiefs into the public councils , and thus formed
such a Congress of power and talent as the difficulties of the empire,
in that trying moment, demanded. This hope had been frustrated
by the repugnance of the King to Mr. Fox, and the loo ready faci-
lity w iih which Mr. Pitt had gtven way to it. Not only, indeed , in
his undignified eagerness for office , did he sacrifice without stipu-
1 To the inllietion of llus nickname on, his friend, Mr. Addington , Sheridan
was, in 110 small degree, accessory, by applying to, those who disapproved of his
administration, «and ye£ gave no reasons for their disapprobation , the well-
known lines, —
" I do iiot love tliee , Doctor Fell,
And why, I caunpt tell; . 7.. «.»:.'
But this I know full well ,
T do not love tliee , Doctor Fell.".'
QF R : K STfcRI DAN. 413
1;ition the important question which , bill two years before', had been
made Ihe sinc^ua non of his services, but, in yielding so n>a<ii!\
to the Royal prejudices against his rival , he gave a. sanction to thai
unconstitutional principle of exclusion ' , which , if Ihus acted upon
by the parly-feelings of the Monarch, would soon narrow the Throne
into the mere nucleus of a favoured faction. In allowing , loo, his
friends and partisans to throw the whole blame of Ihis exclusive Mi-
nistry on Ihe King , he but repealed the indecorum of which he had
been guilty in 1802. -For having at thai time made use of the reli-
gious prejudices of Ihe Monarch as a pretext for his manner of
quilling oflice, he now employed the political prejudices of the
same personage , as an equally convenient excuse fyr his manner of
returning to it.
A few extracts from the speech of Mr. Sheridan upon the Addi-
tional Force Bill , — the only occasion on which he seems lo have
spoken during the present year, — will show that the rarity of his
displays was not owing lo any faijure of power, but rather, perhaps ,
to the increasing involvement of his circumstances , which left no
time for Ihe Ihoughl and preparation that all his public efforts re-
quired.
Mr. Pitt had , at the commencement of this year, condescended
to call lo his aid the co-operation of Mr. Addington , Lord Bucking-
hamshire , and other members of that Administration which had
withered away, i)ut a few monlhs before, under the blight of his
sarcasm and scorn. In alluding to Ihis Coalition, Sheridan says, —
' ' The Right Honourable Gentleman went into office alone ; — but , lest
the government should become too full of vigour fronl his support, he
thought proper to beckon back some of the weakness of the former admi-
nistration. He, I suppose, thought that the Ministry became, from his
support, like spirits above proof, and required to be diluted; that, like
gold refined to a certain degree , it would be unfit for use without a
certain mixture of alloy ; tbat the administration would be too brilliant ,
and dazzle the House, unless be called back a certain part of the mist
and fog of the last administration to render it tolerable to the eye.
1 " This principle of personal exclcision (said Lord Grenville) is one of which
I never can approve* because, independently of its operation to prevent Parlia-
ment and the people from enjoying the Administration they desjred, and which
it was their particular interest to hsve, it tends to esflUisi\ a dangerous prece-
dent, that would afford too much opportunity of privaW pique against the public
interest. I, fin- one, therefore, refused to connect myself with any one argument
that should sanction that principle; and , in my opinion , every man who accepted
office nuclei- that Administration is, according to, the letter and spirit ol the Con-
siitution, responsible for its Character and construction, and the principle upon
which it uf founded."
Speech of Lord Grenville on the motion of Lord Darnley for the repeal of the
Additional Force Fill , Feb. j?>, 1805. .
414 MEMOIRS
As to the great change made in the Ministry by the introduction of the
Right Honourable Gentleman himself, I would ask, does he imagine that
he came back to office with the same estimation that he left it? I am sure
he is much mistaken if he fancies that he did. The Right Honourable
Gentleman retired from office because, as was stated, he could not cany
an important question , which he deemed necessary to satisfy the just
claims of the Catholics ; and in going out he did not hesitate to tear oft'
the sacred veil of Majesty, describing his Sovereign as the only person
that stood in the way of this desirable object. After the Right Honour-
able Gentleman's retirement, he advised the Catholics to look to no one
but him for the attainment of their rights , and cautiously to abstain
from forming a connection with any other person. But how does it ap-
pear, now that the Right Honourable Gentleman is returned to office?
He declines to perform his promise ; and has received , as his colleagues
in office , those who are pledged to resist the measure. Does not the
Right Honourable Gentleman then feel that he comes back to office with
a character degraded by the violation of a solemn pledge, given to a great
and respectable body of the people, upon a particular and momentous oc-
casion ? Does the Right Honourable Gentleman imagine either that he
returns to office with the same character for political wisdom, after the
description which he gave of the talents and capacity of his predecessors,
and after having shown, by his own actions, that his description was
totally unfounded ?"
In alluding to Lord Melville's appoinlment to the Admiralty, he
says ,—
" But then , I am told, there is the First, Lord of the Admiralty, — * Do
you forget the leader of the grand Catamaran project? Are you not
aware of the important change in that department, and the advantage
the country is likely to derive from that change ?' Why, I answer, that
I do not know of any peculiar qualifications the Noble Lord has to
preside over the Admiralty ; but I do know, that if I were to judge of him
from the kind of capacity he evinced while Minister of War, I should
entertain little hopes of him. If, however, the Right Honourable Gentle-
man should say to me , ' Where else would you put that Noble Lord ,
would you have him appointed Wrar-Minister again?' I should say, Oh
no, by no means, — I remember too well the expeditions to Toulon, to
Quiberon , to Corsica, and to Holland, the responsibility for each of
which the Noble Lord took on himself, entirely releasing from any res-
ponsibility the Commander in Chief and the Secretary at War. I also
remember that which, although so glorious to our arms in the result, I
still shall call a most ^warrantable project,— the expedition to Egypt. It
may be said, that as t^ Noble Lord was so unfit for the military depart-
ment, the naval was the proper place for him. Perhaps there were people
who would adopt this whimsical reasoning. I remember a story told
respecting Mr. Garrick , who was once applied to1 by an eccentric
Scotchman, to introduce a production of his on the stage.This Scotchman
was such a good-humoured fellow, that he was called ' Honest Johnny
M'Cree.' Johnny wrote four acts of a tragedy, which he showed to
OF R. B. SHERIDAN. 416
Mr. Garrick , who dissuaded him from finishing it; telling him that his
talent did not lie that way ; so Johnny abandoned the tragedy, and set
about writing a comedy. When this was finished, he showed it to
Mr. Garrick, who found it to be still more exceptionable than the tra-
gedy, and of course could not be persnaded to bring it forward on the
stage. This surprised poor Johnny, and he remonstrated. * Nay, now,
David (said Johnny), did you not tell me that my talents did not lie in
tragedy ?'— * Yes (replied Garrick ), but I did not tell you that they lay in
comedy.' — 'Then (exclaimed Johnny), gin they dinna lie there, where
ihede'il dittha lie, m on ?' Unless the Noble Lord at the head of the
Admiralty has the same reasoning in his mind as Johnny M'Cree, he
cannot possibly suppose that his incapacity for the direction of the War-
department necessarily qualifies him for the Presidency of the Naval.
Perhaps , if the Noble Lord be told that he has no talents for the latter,
his Lordship may exclaim with honest Johnny M'Cree, rGin they dinna
lie there, where the de'il dittha lie, mon ? ' "
On the lOlh of May, the claims of 'the Roman Catholics of Ireland
were , for the first time , brought under the notice of the Imperial
Parliament , by Lord Grenville in the House of Lords , and by
Mr. Fox in the House of Commons. A few days before the debate ,
as appears by the following remarkable letter, Mr. Sheridan was
made the medium of a communication from Carlton-House , the
object of which was to prevent Mr. Fox from presenting the Pe-
lilion.
DEAR SIIKRIDAS ,
" I did not receive your letter till last night.
" I did, on Thursday, consent to be the presenter of the Catholic
Petition, at the request of the Delegates, and had further conversation
on the subject With them at Lord Grenville's yesterday morning. Lord
Grenville also consented to present the Petition to the House of Lords.
—Now, therefore, any discussion on this part of the subject would be
too late; but I will fairly own, that, if it were not, I could not be
dissuaded from doing the public act, which, of all others, it will give
me the greatest satisfaction and pride to perform. No past event in
my political life ever did , and no future one ever can , give me such
pleasure.
" I am sure you know how painful it would be to me to disobey any
command of His Royal Highness's, or even to act in any manner that
might be in the slightest degree contrary to his wishes, and, therefore,
I am not sorry that your intimation came too late.— I shall endeavour to
see the Prince to-day ; but, if I shonld fail, pray, take care that he
knows how things stand before we meet at dinner, lest any conversation
i here should appear to come upon him by surprise..
" Yours ever,
" Arlington- Street , Sunday. " C. J. F.",
It would be rash, without some further insight into the circum-
HG MEMOIRS
slandes of Ihis singular interference, to enter into any speculations
with respect to its nature or motives , or to pronounce how far
Mr. Sheridan was justified in being the instrument of it. But on the
share of Mr. Fox in the transaction , such suspension of opinion is
unnecessary. We have here his simple and honest words before us,
—and they breathe a spirit of sincerity from which even Princes
might take a lesson with advantage.
Mr. Pitt was not long in discovering that Place does not always
imply Power, and that , in separating himself from the other able
men of the day, he had but created an Opposition as much too strong
for the Government, as the government itself was too weak for the
country. .The humiliating resource to which he was driven, in
trying vas a tonic, the reluctant alliance of Lord Sidmoulh,— the
aborliveness of his effort to avert the fall of his old friend, Lord
Melville , and the fatality of ilMuck that still attended his exertions
against France, — all concurred to render this reign of the once
powerful Minister a series of humiliations , shifts , and disasters ,
unlike his former proud period in every thing, but ill success. The
powerful Coalition opposed to him already had a prospect of car-
rying by slorm the post which he occupied , when , by his death ,
it was surrendered , without parley, into their hands.
The Administration that succeeded, under the auspices of Lord
r.renville and Mr. Fox, bore a resemblance to the celebrated Brass
of Corinlh , more , perhaps , in the variety of the metals brought
together, than in the perfection of the compound that resulted from
their fusion '. There were comprised in it, indeed, not only the
two great parlies of the leading chiefs , but those Whigs who dif-
fered with them both under the Addington Ministry, and the Ad-
dinglons that differed with them all on the subject of the Catholic
claims. With this last anomalous addition to the miscellany the in-
fluence of Sheridan is mainly chargeable. Having , for some time
past , exerted all his powers of management to bring about a coa-
lition between Carlton-House and Lord Sidmouth , he had been at
length so successful , that , upon the formation of the present Mi-
iHslry, it was the express desire of the Prince that Lord Sidmoulh
should constitute a part of it. To the same unlucky influence , loo ,
is to be traced the very questionable measure (notwithstanding the
great learning and ability with which it was defended) of introdu-
cing the Chief Jusfice , Lord Ellcnborough , into the Cabinet.
As to Sheridan's own -share in the arrangements , it was , no
1 See in the Annual Register of 180G some able remarks npon Coalitions in
general, as well as a temperate defence of this Coalition in particular, — for which
that work is , I suspect, inilcluecl to a hancl snch as hastiot often , since the tirni:
ofBnrke, enriched its pages.
OF R. B. SHERIDAN. 'til
doubt , expected by him that ho should now be included among lh«
members of Ihe Cabinet 5 and it is probable that Mr. Fox , at the
head of a purely Whig ministry, would have so far considered the
services of his ancient ally, and the popularity still attached to his
name through the country, as to confer upon him this mark of dis-
tinction and confidence. But there were other interests to be con-
sulted ; — and the undisguised earnestness with which Sheridan had
opposed the union of his parly with the Grenvilles, left him but little
supererogation of services to expect in that quarter. Some of his
nearest friends , and particularly Mrs. Sheridan, entreated , • as I
understand , in the most anxious manner, that he would not accq)t
any such office as that of Treasurer of the Navy, for the responsi-
bility and business of which they knew his habits so wholly unfilled
him , — but that, if excluded by his colleagues from the distinction
of a seal in the Cabinet , he should decline all office whatsoever, and
lake his chance in a friendly independence of Ihem. But the time
was now past when he could afford to adopt this policy, — the emo-
lumenls of a place were too necessary to him to be rejected ; — and ,
in accepting the same office that had been allotted to him in the Re-
gency arrangements of 1789, he must have felt, with no small
degree of mortification , how stationary all his efforts , since then ,
had left him , and what a blank was thus made of all his services in
Ihe interval.
The period of this Ministry , connected with the name of Mr.
Fox, though brief, and , in some respects , far from laudable , was
distinguished by two measures, — the Plan of Limited Service, and
the Besolution for the Abolition of the Slave-Trade, — which will
long be remembered to the honour of those concerned in them.
The motion of Mr. Fox against the Slave-Trade was the,last he ever
made in Parliament ; — and the same sort of melancholy admiration
that Pliny expresses, in speaking of a beautiful picture, the painter
of which had died in finishing it ,— ' 'dolor manus, dam id ageret,
abreptce? — comes naturally over our hearts in thinking of the last ,
glorious work, to which this illustrious statesman , in dying, sel
iiis hand.
Though it is not truo, as has been asserted , that Mr. Fox refused
to see Sheridan in his last illness , it is but too certain that those
appearances of alienation or reserve , which had been for some lime
past observable in line former , continued to throw a restraint over
their intercourse with each other to the last. It is a proof, however,
of the absence of any serious grounds for this distrust, that Sheridan
was the-person selected by the relatives of Mr. Fox to preside over
and direct the arrangements of the funeral : and thai he put the l;i-i -
418 MEMOIRS
solemn seal to their long intimacy , by following his friend , as
mourner, to the grave.
The honour of representing the city of Westminster in Parliament
had been , for some time , one of the dreams of Sheridan's ambition.
It was suspected, indeed, — I know not with what justice, — that in
advising Mr. Fox , as he is said to have done, about the year 1800,
tp secede from public life altogether, he was actuated by a wish to
succeed him in the representation of Westminster , and had even
already set on foot some private negotiations towards that object.
Whatever grounds there may have been for this suspicion , the
strong wish that he felt on the subject had long been sufficiently
known to his colleagues -, and , on the death of Mr. Fox, it appeared,
not only lo himself, but the public , that he was the person naturally
pointed out as most fit to be his parliamentary successor. It was ,
therefore, with no slight degree of disappointment he discovered,
that the ascendancy of Aristocratic influence was, as usual, to pre-
vail, and that the young son of the Duke of Northumberland would
be supported by the Government in preference to him. It is but
right, however, injustice to the Ministry, to state, that the neglect
with which they appear to have treated him on this occasion , —
particularly in not apprising him of their decision in favour of Lord
Percy , sufficiently early to save him from the humiliation of a fruit-
less attempt, — is proved, by the following letters, to have originated
in a double misapprehension , by which, while Sheridan, on one
side , was led lo believe that the Ministers would favour his preten-
sions, the Ministers, on the other, were induced to think that he
had given up all intentions of being a candidate.
The first letter is addressed to the gentleman (one of Sheridan's
intimate friends) who seems to have been , unintentionally , the cause
of the mistake on both sides.
" DEAR , Somerset-Place, September i^.
" You must have seen by my manner, yesterday, how much I was
surprised and hurt at learning , for the first time, that Lord Grenville
had, many days previous to Mr. Fox's death, decided to support Lord
Percy on the expected vacancy for Westminster, and that you had since
been the active agent in the canvass actually commenced. I do not like
to think I have grounds to complain or change my. opinion of any friend,
without being very explicit, and opening nay mind, without reserve, on
such a subject. I must frankly declare, that I think you have brought
yourself and me into a very. unpleasant dilemma. You seemed to say,
last night , that you had not been apprised of my intention to offer for
Westminster on the apprehended vacancy. I am confident you have
acted under that impression; but I must impute to you either great
inattention to what fell from me in our last conversation on the subject,
or great inaccuracy of recollection ;' for I solemnly protest I considered
OF R. B. SHERIDAN. 419
you as the individual most distinctly apprised, that at this moment to
succeed that great man and revered friend in Westminster, should the
fatal event take place, would he the highest object of my ambition; — for,
in that conversation I thanked you expressly for informing me that Lord
Grenville had said to yourself, upon Lord Percy being suggested to
him, that he, Lord Grenville , ' would decide on nothing until Mr. She-
litlan had been spoken to, and his intentions known,' or words precisely
t<> that effect. I expressed my grateful sense of Lord Grenville's attention,
;uid said, that it would confirm me in my intention of making no applica-
tion, however hopeless myself respecting Mr. Fox, while life remained
with him,— and these words of Lord Grenville you allowed last night
to have been so stated to me, though not as a message from his Lordship.
Since that time I think we have not happened to meet; at least , sure I
am , we have had no conversation on the subject. Having the highest
opinion of Lord Grenville's honour and sincerity, I must be confident
that he must have had another impression made on his mind respecting
my wishes before I was entirely passed by. I do not mean to say that my
ottering myself was immediately to entitle me to the support of Govern-
ment; but I do mean to say, that my pretensions were entitled to consi-
deration, before that support was offered to another without the slightest
notice taken of me,- — the more especially as the words of Lord Grenville,
reported by you to me, had been stated by me to many friends as my
reliance and justification in not following their advice by making a direct
application to Government. I pledged myself to them that Lord Grenville
would not promise the support of Government till my intentions had
been asked , and I quoted your authority for doing so : I never heard a
syllable of that support being promised to Lord Percy until from you on
the evening of Mr. Fox's death. Did I ever authorise you to inform Lord
Grenville that I had abandoned the idea of offering myself? These are
points which it is necessary, for the honour of all parties , should be
amicably explained. I therefore propose , as the shortest way of effecting
it,— wishing you not to consider this letter as in any degree confidential,.
— that my statements in this letter may be submitted to any two common
friends , or to the Lord Chancellor alone, and let it be ascertained where
the error has arisen, for error is all I complain of; and, with regard to
Lord Grenville, I desire distinctly to say, that I feel myself indebted for
the fairness and kindness of his intentions towards me. My disappoint-
ment of the protection of Government may be a sufficient excuse to the
friends I am pledged to , should I retire ; but I must have it understood
whether or not I deceived them , when I led them , to 'expect that 1
should have that support.
"I hope to remain' ;•»£•.- :<
"Ever yoyi'S sincerely, '::*<,<:i
" R. B. SHERIDAN.
" The sooner the reference I propose the better."
The second letter, which is still further explanatory of the mis-
ronception , was addressed by Sheridan to Lord Grcnvillc .
" MY DEAR LORD,
" Since I had the honour of Your Lordship's letter , I have received one
450 MEMOIRS
from Mr. , in which , I am sorry to observe, he is silent as to my offer
of meeting, in the presence of a third person, in order to ascertain whe-
ther /te did or not so report a conversation with your Lordship as to
impress on my mind a belief that my pretensions would he considered ,
before the support of Government should be pledged elsewhere. Instead
of this, he not only does not admit the precise words quoted by me, but
does not state what he alloAvs he did say. If he denies that he ever gave
me reason to adopt the belief I have stated, be it so; but the only stipu-
lation I have made is that we should come to an explicit understanding
on this subject,— not with a view to quoting words or repeating names,
but that the misapprehension, Xvliatever it was, may be so admitted as
not to leave me under an unmerited degree of discredit and disgrace.
Mr. certainly never encoui-aged me to stand for Westminster, but,
on the contrary, advised me to support Lord Percy, which nlade me the
more mark at the time the fairness with which I thought he apprised me
of the preference my pretensions were likely to receive in your Lordship's
consideration.
" Unquestionably your Lordship's recollection of what passed between
Mr. and yourself must be just ; and were it no more than what you
said on the same subject to Lord Howick , I consider it as a mark of
attention; but what has astonished me is, that Mr. should ever
have informed your Lordship, as he admits he did, that I had no inten-
tion of offering myself. This naturally must have put from your mind
whatever degree of disposition was there to have made a preferable ap-
plication to me; and Lord Howick's answer to your question, on which
I have ventured to make a friendly remonstrance, must have confirmed
Mr. 's report. But allow me to suppose that I had myself seen your
Lordship, and that you had explicitly promised me the support of
Government, and had afterwards sent forme and informed me that it
was at all an object to yon that I should give way to Lord Percy, I assure
you, with the utmost sincerity, that I should cheerfully have withdrawn
myself, and applied every interest I possessed as your Lordship should
have directed.
"All I request is, that what passed between me and Mr. may take
an intelligible shape before any common friend, or before your Lord-
ship. This I conceive to be a preliminary due to my own honour, and
what he ought not to evade."
The Address which be delivered , at the Crown and Anchor Ta-
vern , in declining the offer of support which many of the electors
slill pressed upon him , contains some of those touches of personal
feeling which a biographer is more particularly bound to preserve.
In speaking of Mr.JFox, he said , —
'•' It is true there have been occasions upon which I have differed with
him— painful recollections of the most painful moments of my political
life! Nor were there wanting those who endeavoured to represent these
differences as a departure from the homage which his superior mind ,
though unclaimed by him, was entitled to, and from the allegiance of
friendship which our hearts all swore to him. But never was the genuine
OF R- B. SHERIDAN. 4? I
and confiding texture «f his soul more manifest than on such occasions :
lie knew that nothing on earth could detach me from him ; and he re-
sented insinuations against the sincerity and integrity of a friend , which
he would not have noticed had they been pointed against himself. With
such a man to have battled in the cause of genuine liberty, — with such a
man to have struggled against the inroads of oppression and corruption
— with such an example before me, to have to boast that I never in my
life gave one vote in Parliament that was not on the side of freedom, is
I lie congratulation that attends the retrospect of my public life. His
friendship was the pride and honour of my days. I never, for one mo-
ment, regretted to share with him the difficulties, the calumnies, and
sometimes even the dangers, that attended an honourable course. And
now, reviewing my past political life, were the option possible that I
should retread the path, I solemnly and deliberately declare that I would
prefer to pursue the same course; , to bear up under the same pressure;
to abide by the same principles; and remain by his side, an exile from
power, distinction, and emolument, rather than be at this moment a
splendid example of successful servility or prosperous apostacy, though
clothed with power, honour, titles, gorged with sinecures, and lord of
hoards obtained from the plunder of the people.
Al the conclusion of his Address he thus alludes, with evidently a
deep feeling of discontent , to the circumstances that had obliged him
to decline the honour now proposed to him : —
"Illiberal warnings have been held out, most unauthoritatively I
know, that by persevering in the present contest I may risk my official
situation ; and if I retire , I am aware that minds, as coarse and illiberal,
may assign the dread of that as my motive. To such insinuations I shall
scorn to make any other reply than a reference to the whole of my past
political career. I consider it as no boast to say , that any one who has
struggled through such a portion of life as I have , without obtaining an
office, is not likely to abandon his principles to retain one when acquired.
If riches do not give independence, the next best thing to being very
rich is to have been used to be very poor. But independence is not allied
to wealth, to birth , to rank, to power, to titles, or to honour. Inde-
l>endence is in the mind of a man, or it is no whqre. On this ground
were I to decline the contest, I should scorn the imputation that should
bring the purity of my purpose into doubt. No Minister can expect to find in
me a servile vassal. No Minister can exjject from me the abandonment of
any principle 1 have avowed, or any pledge I have given. I know not that
1 have hitherto shrunk in place from opinions I have maintained while
in opposition. Did there exist a Minister of a different cast from any I
know iii being, were he to attempt to exact from me a different conduct,
my oflicc should be at his service to-morrow. Such a Ministry nlight strip
me of my situation, in some respects of considerable emolument, but he
could not strip me of the proud conviction that I was right; he could not
strip me of my own self-esteem; he could not strip me, I think, of some
portion of the confidence and good opinion of the people. But I am noti-
cing the calumnious threat. I allude to more than it deserves. There can
42i MEMOIRS
he no peril, I venture to assert, under the present Government, in the
free exercise of discretion , such as belongs to the present question. I
therefore disclaim the merit of putting any thing to hazard. If I have
missed the opportunity of obtaining all the support 1 might, perhaps,
have had on the present occasion, from a very scrupulous delicacy ,
which I think became and was incumbent upon me, but which I by no
means conceive to have been a fit rule for others, I cannot repent it.
While the slightest aspiration of breath passed those lips, now closed for
ever , — while one drop of life's blood beat in that heart, now cold for
ever, — I could not, I ought not, to have acted otherwise than I did.— 1
now come with a very embarrassed feeling to that declaration which I yet
think you must have expected from me, but which I make with reluc-
tance , because , from the marked approbation I have experienced from
you, I fear that with reluctance you \\ill receive it , — I feel myself under
the necessity of retiring from this contest."
About three weeks after ensued the Dissolution of Parliament , —
a measure attended, wilh considerable unpopularity to the Ministry,
and originating as much in the enmity of one of its members to
Lord Sidmouth, as the introduction of that noble Lord among them
at all was owing to the friendship of another. In consequence of
this event, Lord Percy having declined offering himself again , Mr.
Sheridan became a candidate for Westminster, and after a most
riotous contest with a demagogue of the moment, named Paull,
was, together with Sir Samuel Hood, declared duly elected.
The moderate measure in favour of the Roman Catholics, which
the Ministry now thought it due to the expectations of that body to
bring forward, was, as might be expected, taken advantage of by
the King to rid himself of their counsels , and produced one of those
bursts of bigotry fay which the people of England have so often dis-
graced themselves. It is sometimes a misfortune to men of wit , that
they put their opinions in a form to be remembered. We might ,
perhaps, have been ignorant of the keen, but worldly view which
Mr. Sheridan, on this occasion, took of the hardihood of his col-
leagues, if he had not himself expressed it in a form so portable to
the memory. " He had often ," he said, " heard of people knocking
out their brains against a wall , but never before knew of any one
building a wall expressly for the purpose."
It must be owned, indeed, that though far loo sagacious and
liberal not to be deeply impressed with the justice of the claims ad-
vanced by the Catholics , he was not altogether disposed to go those
generous lengths in their favour , of which Mr. Fox and a few others
of their less calculating friends were capable. It was his avowed
opinion, that, though the measure, whenever brought forward,
should be supported ,and enforced by the whole weight of the party ,
they ought never so far to identify or encumber themselves with it ,
OF R. B. SHERIDAN «3
as to make its adoption a sine qua non of their acceptance or reten^
lion of office. His support, too, of the Ministry of Mr. Addington ,
which was as virtually pledged against the Catholics as that which
now succeeded to power , sufficiently shows the secondary station
that this great question occupied in his mind \ nor can such a devia-
tion from the usual lone of his political feelings be otherwise ac-
counted for, than by supposing that he was aware of the existence
of a strong indisposition to the measure in that quarter, by whose
MOWS and wishes his public conduct was, in most cases, regulated.
On the general question . however , of the misgovernment of Ire-
land , and (he disabilities of the Catholics , as forming its most pro-
minent feature, his zeal was always forthcoming and ardent, — and
never more so than during the present Session , when , on the ques-
tion of the Irish Arms Bill , and his own motion upon the State of
Ireland , he distinguished himself by an animation and vigour
worthy of the best period of his eloquence.
Mr. Graltan , in supporting the coercive measures now adopted
against his country, had shown himself, for once, alarmed into a
concurrence with the wretched system of governing by Insurrection
Acts, and, for once, lent his sanction to the principle upon which
all such measures are founded , namely , that of enabling Power to
defend ilself against the consequences of its own tyranny and in-
justice. In alluding to some expressions used by this great man,
Sheridan said : —
" He now happened to recollect what was said by a Right Honourable
Gentleman, to whose opinions they all deferred (Mr. Grattan ), that
notwithstanding he voted for the present measure, with all its defects,
rather than lose it altogether , yet that gentleman said , that he hoped to
secure the reversionary interest of the Constitution to Ireland. But when
we saw that the Constitution was suspended from the year 1796 to the
present period , and that it was now likely to be continued for three years
longer, the danger was that we might lose the interest altogether; —
when we were mortgaged for such a length of time , at last a foreclosure
might take place."
The following is an instance of that happy power of applying old
stories , for which Mr. Windham , no less than Sheridan , was re-
markable, and which, by promoting anecdote into the service of
argument and wit, ennobles it, when trivial, and gives new youth
to it, when old.
" When they and others complain of the discontents of the Irish, they
never appear to consider the cause. When they express their surprise that
1 he Irish are not contented, while, according to their observation , that
people have so much reason to be happy, they beU'ay a tola] ignorance
of their actual circumstances. The fact is, that the tyranny practised upon
424 MEMOIRS
the Irish has been throughout unremitting. There has been no change
but in the manner of inflicting it. They have had nothing but variety in
oppression, extending to all ranks and degrees of a certain description of
the,'people. If you would know what this varied oppression consisted in, I
refrr you to the Penal Statutes you have repealed , and to some of those
which still exist. There you will see the high and the km equally sub-
jected to the lash of persecution ; and yet still some persons affect to be
astonished at the discontents of the Irish. But with all my reluctance to
introduce any thing ludicrous upon so serious an occasion, I cannot help
referring to a little story which those very astonished persons call to my
mind. It was with respect to an Irish drummer , who was employed to
inflict punishment upon a soldier. When the boy struck high, the poor
soldier exclaimed, 'Lower, bless you,' with which the boy complied.
But soon after the soldier exclaimed, 'Higher, if you please.' But again
he called out , ' A little lower; ' upon which the accommodating boy ad-
dressed him — ' ISow , upon my conscience , I see you are a discontented
man ; for, strike \\here I may, there's no pleasing you. ' Now your com-
plaint of the discontents of the Irish appears to me quite as rational,
while you continue to strike, only altering the place of attack."
Upon this speech, which may be considered as the bouquet, or
last parting blaze of his eloquence , he appears to have bestowed
considerable care and thought. The concluding sentences of the
following passage , though in his very worst taste, were as anxiously
laboured by him , and put through as many rehearsals on paper, as
any of the most highly finished witticisms in The School for Scandal.
"I cannot think patiently of such petty squabbles, while Bonaparte is
grasping the nations; while he is surrounding France, not with that iron
frontier, for which the wish and childish ambition of Louis XIV. was so
eager, but with kingdoms of his own creation; securing the gratitude of
higher minds as the hostage , and the fears of others as pledges for his
safety. His are no ordinary fortifications. His martello towers are Thrones;
sceptres tipt with crowns are the palisadoes of his entrenchments , and
Kings are his centinels."
The Reporter here, by " tipping" the sceptres "with crowns ,"
has improved , rather unnecessarily, upon the finery of the original.
The following are specimens of the various trials of this passage ,
which I find scribbled over detached scraps of paper : —
" Contrast the different attitudes and occupations of the two govern-
ments : — B. eighteen months from his capital ,— head-quarters in the
villages, — neither Berlin or Warsaw, — dethroning and creating thrones,
— the works he raises are monarchies, — sceptres his palisadoes, — thrones
his martello towers."
"Commissioning kings, — erecting thrones, martello towers,— Cam-
baceres count noses,— Austrians,' fine dressed, like Pompey's troops."
" B. fences with sceptres ,— his martello towers are thrones, — he alone
is France."
OF R. H. SHERIDAN. 425
Another Dissolution of Parliament having taken place this year,
he again became a candidate for the city of Westminster. But , after
a violent contest, during which he stood the coarse abuse of the mob
\\ilh Ihe utmost good humour and playfulness , the election ended
in favour of Sir Francis Burdetl and Lord Cbchrane , and Sheridan
\vas returned, with his friend Mr. Michael Angelo Taylor , for the
borough of Ilchester.
In the autumn of 1807 he had conceived some idea of leasing the
property of Drury-Lane Theatre , and, with that view , had set on
foot , through Mr. Michael Kelly , who was then in Ireland , a ne-
gotiation with Mr. Frederick Jones, the proprietor of the Dublin
Theatre. In explaining his' object to Mr. Kelly, in a letter dated
August 30 , 1807 , he describes it as a " plan by which the properly
may be leased to those who have the skill and the industry to manage
it as it should be for their own advantage, upon terms which would
render any risk to them almost impossible ; — the profit to them (he
adds) would probably be beyond what I could now venture to slate ,
and yet upon terms which would be much better for the real pro-
prietors than any thing that can arise from the careless and ignorant
manner in which the undertaking is now misconducted by those who,
my son excepled , have no interest in its success , and who lose no-
thing by its filure."
The negotiation with Mr. Jones was continued into the following
year •, and , according to a draft of agreement , which this gentleman
has been kind enough to show me, in Sheridan's hand- writing, it was
intended that Mr. Jones should , on becoming proprietor of one
quarler-share of the property , " undertake the management of the
Theatre in conjunction with Mr. T. Sheridan, and be entitled to the
same remuneration, namely, 1000/. per annum certain income,
and a certain per ccntagc on the net profits arising from the office-
receipts, as should be agreed upon," etc. etc.
The following memorandum of a bet, connected with this trans-
action , is of somewhat a higher class of wagers than the One Tun
Tavern has often had the honour of recording among its archives': —
" One Tun, St. James's Market, May 26, 1808.
" In the presence of Messrs. G. Ponsonby, R. Power, and Mr. Becher ',
Mr. Jones bets Mr. Sheridan five hundred guineas that he, Mr. Sheridan*,
does not write, and produce under his name, a play of five acts, or a
' It is not without a deep feeling of melancholy that I transcribe this paper- Of
three of my most valued friends ; whose names are signed to it, — Becher, Pon-
sonby, and Power, — the last has, within a few short months, been snatched away,
leaving behind him the recollection of as many gentle and manly virtues as ever
concurred to give sweetness and strength to character.
4*fi MEMOIRS
first piece of three, within the term of three rears from the i5th of Sep-
tember next.— It is distinctly to be understood that this bet is not valid
unless Mr. Jones becomes a partner in Drury-Lane Theatre before the
commencement of the ensuing season.
" Richard Power. » R. B. SHERIDAS.
"George Ponsonby. " FRED. EDW. JONES.
" W. W. Becher.
" IN. B. W. W. Becher and Richard Power join, one fifty, -the other
one hundred pounds in this bet.
"R. POWER."
The grand movement of Spain , in the year 1808 , which led to
consequences so important to the rest of Europe, though it has left
herself as enslaved and priest-ridden as ever , was hailed by Sheridan
with all that prompt and well-timed ardour, with which he alone ,
of all his parly, knew how to meet such great occasions. Had his
political associates but learned from his example thus to place them-
selves in advance of the procession of events , they would not have
had the triumphal wheels pass by them, and over them, so fre-
quently. Immediately on the arrival of the ^Deputies from Spain,
he called the attention of the House to the affairs of that country ;
and his speech on the subject , though short and unstudied , had
not only the merit of falling in with the popular feeling at the mo-
ment, but, from the views which it pointed out through the brighl
opening now made by Spain , was every way calculated to be useful
both at home and abroad.
"Let Spain," he said, " see, that we were not inclined to stint the
services we had it in our power to render her; that we were not actuated
by the desire of any petty advantage to ourselves; but that our exertions
were to be solely directed to the attainment of the grand and general
object, the emancipation of the world. If the flame were once fairly
caught, our success was certain. France would then find, that she had
hitherto been contending only against principalities, powers, and autho-
rities, but that she had now to contend against a people."
The death of Lord Lake this year removed those difficulties ,
which had , ever since the appointment of Sheridan to the Recei-
vership of the Duchy of Cornwall , stood in the way of his reaping
Ilio full advantages of that office. Previously to the departure of
General Lake for India, the Prince had granted to him the reversion
of this situation , which was then filled by Lord Elliot. It was after-
wards, however, discovered that, according to the terms of the
Grant, the place could not be legally held or deputed by any one
who had not been actually sworn into it before the Prince's Council.
On the death of Lord Elliot , therefore, Mis Royal Highness thought
himself authorised , as we have seen, in conferring the appointment
OF R. B. SHERIDAN. 427
upon Mr. Sheridan. This step, however, was considered by the
friends of General Lake as not only a breach of promise, but a vio-
lation of right ; and it would seem , from one of the documents which
I am about to give , that measures were even in train for enforcing
the claim by law.
The first is a letter on the subject from Sheridan to Colonel
M'Mahon :—
" MY DEAR M'MAHON , Thursday evening.
" 1 have thoroughly considered and reconsidered the subject we talked
upon to-day. ISothing on earth shall make me risk the possibility of the
Prince's goodness to me furnishing1 an opportunity for a single scurrilous
fool's presuming to hint even that he had, in the slightest manner,
departed from the slightest engagement. The Prince's right, in point of
law and justice, on the present occasion to recall the appointment
given, I hold to be incontestiblc ; but , believe me , I am right in the
proposition I took the liberty of submitting to His Royal Highness, and
which (so far is he from wishing to hurt General Lake,) he graciously
approved. But understand me, — my meaning is to give up the emo-
luments of the situation to General Lake, holding the situation at the
Prince's pleasure, and abiding by an arbitrated estimate of General Lake's
claim, supposing His Royal Highness had appointed him ; in other words,
to value his interest in the appointment as if he had it, and to pay him
for it or resign to him.
" With the Prince's permission I should be glad to meet Mr. Warwick
Lake, and I am confident that no two men of common sense and good
intentions can fail, in ten minutes, to arrange it so as to meet the
Prince's wishes , and not to leave the shadow of a pretence for envious
malignity to whisper a word against his decision.
" Yours ever,
" R. B. SHERIDAN."
" I write in great haste — going to A ."
The other Paper that I shall give, as throwing light on the trans-
action , is a rough and unfinished sketch by Sheridan of a statement
intended to be transmitted to General Lake, containing the par-
ticulars of both Grants , and the documents connected with
them : —
" DEAR GENERAL ,
" I am commanded by the Prince of Wales to transmit to you a correct
Statement of a transaction in which your name is so much implicated ,
and in which his feelings have been greatly wounded from a quarter, 1
am commanded to say v whence he did not expect such conduct.
" As I am directed to communicate the particulars in the most au-
thentic form, you will, lam sure, excuse on this occasion my not adopting
the mode of a familiar letter.
" Authentic Statement respecting the Appointment by His Hoyal
4?8 MEMOIRS
Highness the Prince of Wales to the Receivership of the Duchy of
Cornwall , in the Year 1804, to he transmitted by His Royal Highness's
Command to Lieutenant-General Lake , Commander-in-chief of 4lie
Forces in India.
" The circumstances attending the original reversionary Grant to
General Lake are stated in the hrief for Counsel on this occasion hy
Mr. Bignel , the Prince's solicitor, to he as follow •. (\o. I.) It was
afterwards understood by the Prince that the service he had wished to
render General Lake, by this Grant, had been defeated by the terms of
it ; and so clearly had it been shown that there were essential duties
attached to the office , which no Deputy was competent to execute , and
that a Deputy, even for the collection of the rents, could not be appointed
but by a principal actually in possession of the office, (by having been
sworn into it before his Council,) that upon General Lake's appoint-
ment to the Command in India , the Prince could have no conception
that General Take could have left the country under an impression or
expectation that the Prince would appoint him , in case of a vacancy, to
the place in question. Accordingly, His Royal Highness, on the very day
lie heard of the death of Lord Elliot, unsolicited, and of his own
gracious suggestion , appointed Mr. Sheridan. Mr. Sheridan returned ,
the next day, in a letter to the Prince , such an answer and acknowledg-
ment as might be expected from him ; and, accordingly, directions were
given to make out his patent. On the ensuing His Royal Highness
was greatly surprised at receiving the following letter from Mr. Warwick
Lake. (JVo. II.)
" His Royal Highness immediately directed Mr. Sheridan to see
Mr. W. Lake, and to state his situation , and how the office was cir-
cumstanced ; and for further distinctness to make a minute in writ-
ing." * * * *
Such were the circumstances that had , at first , embarrassed his
enjoyment of this office ; but , on the death of Lord Lake, all diffi-
culties were removed , and the appointment was confirmed to She-
ridan for his life.
In order to afford some insight into the nature of that friendship
which existed so long between the Heir Apparent and Sheridan ,
— though unable , of course, to produce any of the numerous let-
ters , on the Royal side of the correspondence , that have been found
among the papers in my possession , — I shall here give , from a
rough copy in Sheridan's hand-writing, a letter. which he addressed
about this time to the Prince : —
" It is matter of surprise to myself, as well as of deep regret , that I
should have incurred the appearance. of ungrateful neglect and disrespect
towards the person to whom I am most obliged on earth, to whom I feel
the most ardent, dutiful, and affectionate attachment, and in whose
service I would readily sacrifice my life. Yet so it is, and to nothing but
a perverse combination of circumstances , which would form no excuse
were I to recapitulate them, can I attribute a conduct so strange on my
OF ft. B. SHERIDAN. 429
part; and from nothing but Your Royal Highness's kindness and be-
nignity alone can I expect an indulgent allowance and oblivion of tbat
conduct : nor could I even hope 'for this were I not conscious of the un-
abated and unalterable devotion towards Your Royal Highness which
lives in my heart, and will ever continue to be its pride and boast.
" But I should" ill deserve the indulgence I request did I not frankly
slate what has passed in my mind, which, though it cannot justify, may,
in some degree, extenuate what must have appeared so strange to Your
Koval Highness, previous to Your Royal Highness having actually res-
tored me to the office I had resigned.
" I was mollified and hurt in the keenest mariner by having repeated
to me from an authority which / then trusted, some expressions of Your
Roval Highness respecting me, which it was impossible I could have
deserved. Though I* was most solemnly pledged never to reveal the-
source from which the communication came, I for some time intended
to unburthen my mind to my sincere friend and Your Royal Highness's
most attached and excellent servant, M'Mahon — but I suddenly disco-
vered, beyond a. doubt , that I had been grossly deceived , and that there
had not existed the slightest foundation for the tale that had been im-
posed on me ; and I do humbly ask Your Royal Highness's pardon for
having for a moment credited a fiction suggested by mischief and malice.
Yet, extraordinary as it must seem, I had so long, under this false im-
pression , neglected the course which duty and gratitude required from
me, that I felt an unaccountable shyness and reserve in repairing my er-
ror, and to this procrastination other unlucky circumstances contributed.
One day when I had the honour of meeting Your Royal Highness on horse-
back in Oxford-Street, though your manner was as usual gracious and
kind to me, you said that I had deserted you privately and politically. I
had long before tbat been assured, though falsely I am convinced, that
Your Royal Highness had promised to make a point that I should neither
speak nor vote on Lord Wellesley's business. My view of this tppic, and
my knowledge of the delicate situation in which Your Royal Highness
stood in respect to the Catholic question , though weak and inadequate
motives I confess , je\. encouraged the continuance of that reserve which
my original error had commenced. These subjects being passed bv, — and
sure I am Your Royal Highness would never deliberately ask me to adopt
a course of debasing inconsistency, — it was my hope fully and frankly to
have explained myself and repaired my fault, when I was informed that
a circumstance that happened at Burlington-House , and which must
have been heinously misrepresented, had greatly offended you; and soon
after it was stated to me, by an authority which I have' no objection to
disclose , that Your Royal Highness had quoted , with marked disappro-
bation, words supposed to have been spoken by me on the Spanish ques-
tion , and of \\hich words, as there is a God in heaven, I never uttered
one syllable.
" Most justly may Your .Royal Highness answer to all this, why have
I not sooner stated these circumstances , and confided in that uniform
friendship and protection which 1 have so long experienced at your
li.nuls. I can only plead a nervous, procrastinating nature, abetted, per-
haps, by sensations of , I trust, no false pride, which, however 1 may
430 MEMOIRS
blame myself, impel me involuntarily tody from the risk of even a cold
look from the quarter to which I owe so much, and by whom to be
esteemed is the glory and consolation of my private and public life.
" One point only remains for me to intrude upon Your Royal High-
ness's consideration , but it is of a nature fit only for personal communi-
cation. I therefore conclude , with again entreating Your Royal Highness
to continue and extend the indulgence which the imperfections in my
character have so often received from you, and yet to be assured that
there never did exist to Monarch , Prince , or man , a firmer or purer at-
tachment than I feel, and to my death shall feel, to you, my gracious
Prince and Master "
CHAPTER XX.
Destruction of the Theatre of Drury-Laneby fire. — Mr. Whitbread. —
Plan for a third Theatre. — Illness of the King. — Regency. — Lord
Grey and Lord Grenville.— Conduct of Mr. Sheridan. — His vindication
of himself.
WITH the details of the embarrassments of Drury-Lane Theatre ,
I have endeavoured, as little as possible , to encumber the attention
of the reader. This part of my subject would , indeed, require a
volume to itself. The successive partnerships entered into with
Mr. Grubb and Mr. Richardson , — the different Trust-de^ds for the
general and individual property , — the various creations of Shares ,
— the controversies between the Trustees and Proprietors as to
the obligations of the Deed of 1793, which ended in a Chancery-
suit in 1799 , — the perpetual entanglements of the property, which
Sheridan's private debts occasioned , and which even the friendship
and skill of Mr. Adam were wearied out in endeavouring to rectify,
— all this would lead to such a mass, of details and correspondence
as , though I have waded through it myself, it is by no means ne-
cessary to inflict upon others;
The great source of the involvements , both of Sheridan himself
and of the concern , is to be found in the enormous excess of the
expense of rebuilding the Theatre in 1793 , over the amount stated
by the architect in his estimate. This amount was 75,0007. ; and the
sum of 150, OOO/., then raised by subscription , would, it was cal-
culated, in addition to defraying this charge, pay off also the mort-
gage-debts with which the Theatre was encumbered. It was soon
found, however, that the expense of building the House alone would
exceed the whole amount raised by subscription ; and notwithstand-
ing the advance of a considerable sum beyond the estimate, the
Theatre was delivered in a wry unfinished slate into the hands of
the proprietors, — only part of the mortga'ge- debts was paid off.
and. altogether, a debt of 70.000/. was left upon the property.
OF K. B. SHERIDAN. 431
This debt Mr. Sheridan and the other proprietors took , voluntarily,
and, as it has been thought, inconsiderately, upon themselves, —
the builders , by their contracts, having no legal claim upon them ,
— and the payment of it being at various times enforced , not only
against the theatre, but against the private property of Mr. Sheridan,
involved both in a degree of embarrassment from which there ap-
peared no hope of extricating them.
Such was the state of this luckless property, — arid it would have
been difficult to imagine any change for the worse that could befall
it,— when, early in the present year, an event occurred, that seemed
to fill up at once the measure of its ruin. On the night of the 24th of
February, while the House of Commons was occupied with Mr. Pon-
sonby's motion on the Conduct of the War in Spain , and Mr. Sheri-
dan was in attendance , with the intention , no doubt , of speaking ,
I he House was suddenly illuminated by a blaze of light-, and, the
Debate being interrupted , it was ascertained that the Theatre of
Drury-Lane was on fire. A motion was made to adjourn ; but Mr. She-
ridan said, with much calmness, that " whatever might be the extent
of the private calamity, he hoped it would not interfere with the
public business of the country." He then left the House; and, pro-
ceeding to Drury-Lane , witnessed , with a fortitude which strongly
interested all who observed him , the entire destruction of his pro-
perty '.
Among his losses on the occasion there was one which, from being
associated with feelings of other times , may have affected him , per-
haps , more deeply than many that were far more serious. A harp-
sichord . that had belonged to his first wife , and had long survived
her sweet voice in silent widowhood , was , with other articles of
furniture that had been moved from Somerset-House to the Theatre ,
lost in the flames.
The ruin thus brought upon this immense property seemed , for
a time, beyond a)l hope of retrieval. The embarrassments of the
concern were known to have been so great, and such a swarm of
litigious claims lay slumbering under those ashes, that it is not
surprising the public should have been slow and unwilling to touch
them. Nothing, indeed , short of the intrepid zeal of Mr. Whitbrcad.
could have ventured upon the task of remedying so complex a cala-
' It is said that, as be sat at the Piazza Coffee-house, daring the fire, taking
some refreshment, a friend of his having remarked on the philosophic calmness,
with which he bore his misfortune , Sheridan answered, " A man may sorely be ,*
allowed to take a glass of wine l>r his own fire- side.1"
Without vouching for the authenticity or novelty of this anecdote, (which may
have been , for aught I know, like the wandering Jew, a rcpnlar attendant upon,
all fires since the time of HJcrocles ,) I give it as I heard'it.
432 MEMOIRS
mity j nor could any industry less persevering have compassed the
miracle of rebuilding and re-animaling Ihat edifice , among the
many-tongued claims that beset and perplexed his enterprise.
In the following interesting letter to him from Sheridan, we trace
the flrst steps of his friendly interference on the occasion : —
"Mv DEAR WHITBREAD,
" Procrastination is always the consequence of an indolent man's
resolving to write a long detailed letter, upon any subject , however
important to himself, or whatever may be the confidence he lias in the
friend he proposes to write to. To this must be attributed your having
escaped the statement I threatened you with, in my last letter, and the
brevity with which I now propose to call your attention to the serious,
and to me, most important request, contained in this, — reserving all I
meant to have written for personal communication.
" I pay you no compliment when I say that, without comparison,
you are the man living , in my estimation, the most disposed and the
most competent to bestow a portion of your time and ability to assist the
call of friendship , — on the condition that that call shall be proved to be
made in a cause just and honourable , and in every respect entitled to
your protection.
" On this ground alone I make my application to you. You said, some
time since, in my house, but in a careless conversation only, that you
would be a Member of a Committee for rebuilding Drury-Lane Theatre,
if it would serve me ; and, indeed, you very kindly suggested, yourself,
that there were more persons disposed to assist that object than I might
be aware of. I most thankfully accept the offer of your interference, and
am convinced of the benefits your friendly exertions are competent to
produce. I have worked the whole subject in my own mind , and see a
clear way to retrieve a great property, at least to my son and his family,
if my plan meets the support 1 hope it will appear to merit.
" Writing thus to 3-011 in the sincerity of private friendship, and the
reliance I place on my opinion of your character, I need not ask of you,
though eager and active in politics as you are , not to be severe in cri-
ticising my palpable neglect of all parliamentary duty. It would not be
easy to explain to you , or even to make you comprehend , or any one in
prosperous and affluent plight, the private difficulties I have to struggle
•with. My mind, and the resolute independence belonging to it, has not
been in the least subdued by the late calamity ; but the consequences
arising from it have more engaged and embarrassed me than, perhaps ,
I have been willing to allow. It has been a principle of my life, persevered
in through great difficulties, never to borrow money of a private friend;
and this resolution I would starve rather than violate. Of course, I
except the political aid of election-subscription. When'I ask you to take
a part in the settlement of my shattered affairs,- 1 ask you only to do so
after a previous investigation of every part of .the ]>ast circumstances
which relate to the tuust I wish you to accept, IB conjunction with those
who wish to serve me , and to whom I think you conld not object. I may
Le again seized with an illness as alarming as that I lately experienced.
OF R. B. SHERIDAN. 433
Assist me in relieving my mind from the greatest affliction that such a
situation can again produce, — the fear of others suffering by my death.
" To effect this little more is necessary than some resolution on my part
and the active superintending advice of a mind like yours.
" Thus far on paper : I will see you next , and therefore will not
trouble you for a written reply."
Encouraged by the opening which the destruction of Drury-Lane
seemed to offer to free adventure in theatrical property, a project
was set on foot for the establishment of a Third Great Theatre ,
which, being backed by much of the influence and wealth of fhe
city of London , for some time threatened destruction to the mono-
poly that had existed so long. But, by the exertions of Mr. Sheridan
and his friends , this scheme was defeated , and a Bill for the erec-
tion of Drury-Lane Theatre by subscription , and for the incorpo-
ration of the subscribers , was passed through Parliament.
That Mr. Sheridan himself would have Ijad no objection to a
Third Theatre , if held by a Joint Grant to the Proprietors of the
other two , appears not only from his speeches and petitions on the
subject at this time, but from the following Plan for such an esta-
blishment, drawn up by him, some years before, and intended to
be submitted to the consideration of the Proprietors of both
Houses : —
" GENTLEMEN,
" According to your desire, the plan of the proposed Assistant Theatre.
is here explained in writing f«r your further consideration.
" From your situations in the Theatres Royal of Drury-Lane and
Covent-Garden we have had opportunities of observing many circtwn-
stances relative to our general property, which must have escaped those
who do not materially interfere in the management of that property. One
point in particular has lately weighed extremely in our opinions , which
is, an apprehension of a new Theatre being erected for some species or
other of dramatic entertainment. Were this event to take place on an op-
posing interest , our property would sink in value one half, and , in all
probability, the contest that would ensue would speedily end in the
absolute ruin of one of the present established Theatres. We have reason,
it is true, from His Majesty's gracious patronage to the present Houses,
to hope that a Third Patent for a winter Theatre is not easily to be
obtained ; but. the motives which appear to call for one are so many,
(and those of such a nature , as to increase every day, ) that we cannot,
on the maturest consideration of the subject , divest ourselves of the
dreadthat such an event may not be very remote.With this apprehension
before us , we have naturally fallen into a joint consideration of the
means of preventing so fatal a blow to the present Theatres , or of
deriving a general advantage from a circumstance which might otherwise
be our ruin. j V •
" Some of the leading motives for the establishment of a Third
Theatre are as follows : —
J8
•134 MEMOIRS
" ist. Tlie great extent of the town and increased residence of a
higher class of people , who, on account of many circumstances , seldom
frequent the Theatre.
" ad. The distant situation of the Theatres from the politer streets,
and the difficulty with which ladies reach their carriages or chairs.
" 3d. The small number of side-boxes, where only, by the uncon-
troulable influence of fashion, ladies of any rank can be induced
to sit.
" 4th. The earliness of the hour, which renders it absolutely impossible
for those who attend on Parliament, live at any distance, or indeed, for
any person who dines at the prevailing hour, to reach the Theatre before
the performance is half over.
" These considerations have lately been strongly urged to me by many
loading persons of rank. There has also prevailed, as appears by the
number of private plays at gentlemen's seats, an unusual fashion for
theatrical entertainments among the politer class of people ; and it is not
to be wondered at that they, feeling themselves ( from the causes above
enumerated), in a manner, excluded from our Theatres, should per-
severe in an endeavour to establish some plan of similar entertainment,
on principles of superior elegance and accommodation.
" In proof of this disposition , and the effects to be apprehended from
it, we need but instance one fact, among many which might be pro-
duced, and that is the well-known circumstance of a subscription having
actually been begun last winter, with very powerful patronage, for the
importation of a French company of comedians,— a scheme which, though
it might not have answered to the undertaking, would certainly have
been the foundation of other entertainments, whose opposition we
should speedily have experienced. The question , then, upon a full view
of our situation , appears to be whether the Proprietors of the present
Theatres will contentedly wait till some other person takes advantage of
I lie prevailing wish for a Third Theatre, or, having the remedy in
I heir power, profit by a turn of fashion which they cannot controul.
" A full conviction that the latter is the only line of conduct which
can give security to the Patents of Drury-Lane and Covent-frarden
Theatres, and yield a probability of future advantage in the exercise of
them, has prompted us to endeavour at modelling this plan, on which
we conceive those Theatres may unite in the support of a Third , to the
general and mutual advantage of all the Proprietors.
" PROPOSALS.
" The Proprietors of the Theatre-Royal in Covent-Garden appear to
be possessed of two Patents for the privilege of acting plays, etc. , under
one of which the above-mentioned Theatre is opened, — the other lying
dormant and useless ; — it is proposed that this dormant Patent shall be
exercised, (with His Majesty's approbation,) in order to license the
dramatic performance of the new Theatre to be erected.
M It is proposed that the performances of this new Theatre shall be
supported from the united establishments of the two present Theatres,
so that the unemployed part of each company may exert themselves fov
the advantage\)f the whole.
OF R. B. SHERIDAN. 43S
" As the object of this Assistant Theatre will be to reimburse the
Proprietors of the other two , at the full season; for the expensive esta-
blishment they are obliged to maintain when the town is almost empty,
it is proposed, that the scheme of business to be adopted in the new
Theatre shall differ as much as possible from that of the other two, and
that the performances at the new house shall be exhibited at a superior
price, and shall commence at a later hour.
" The Proposers will undertake to provide a Theatre for the purpose,
in a proper situation , and on the following terms : — If they engage a
Theatre to be built, being the. property of the builder or builders," it,
must be for an agreed on rent, with security for a term of years. In this
case the Proprietors ef the two present Theatres shall jointly and severally
engage in the whole of the risk; and the Proposers are ready on equitable
terms, to undertake the management of it. But, if the Proposers find
themselves enabled, either on their own credit , or by the assistance of
their friends, or on a plan of subscription, the mode being devised, and
the security given by themselves, to become the builders of the Theatre,
the interest in the building will , in that case , be the property of the
Proposers, and they will undertake to demand no rent for the perform-
ances therein to be exhibited for the mutual advantage of the two
present Theatres.
" The Proposers will, in this case, conducting the business under the
dormant Patent above mentioned, bind themselves, that no theatrical
entertainments, as plays, farces, pantomimes, or English operas, shall
at any time be exhibited in this Theatre but for the general advantage of
the Proprietors of the other two Theatres; the Proposers reserving to
themselves any profit they can make of their building, converted to pur-
poses distinct from the business of the Theatres.
" The Proposers, undertaking the management of the new Theatre,
shall be entitled to a sum to be settled by the Proprietors at large., or by
an equitable arbitration,
" It is proposed, that all the Proprietors of the two present TheMres
Royal of Drury-Lane and Covent-Garden shall share all profits from the
dramatic entertainments exhibited at the new Theatre; that is, each shall
be entitled to receive a dividend in proportion to the shares he or she
possesses of the present Theatres: first only deducting a certain nightly
sum to be paid to the Proprietors of Covent-Garden Theatre, as a
consideration for the licence furnished by the exercise of their present
dormant Patent.
" 'Fore Heaven! the Plan's a^ood Plan! I shall add a little Epilogue
to-morrow.
"R. B. S."
•« 'Tis now too late, and I've a letter to write
Before 1 go to bed ,— and then, Good Night."
In the month of. July, this year, the Installation of Lord Gren-
ville, as Chancellor of Oxford , look place, and Mr. Sheridan was
among4he distinguished persons that attended the ceremony. As a
number' of honorary degrees were to be conferred on (ho occasion,
136 MEMOIRS
it was expected, as a matter of course, thai his name would be
among those selected for that distinction •, and, to the honour of the
University, it was the general wish among its leading members that
such a tribute should be paid to his high political character. On the
proposal of his name, however (in a private meeting, I believe,
held previously to the Convocation), the words " Non placet"
were heard from two scholars , — one of whom , it is said , had no
nobler motive for his opposition than that Sheridan did not pay his
father's lilhes very regularly. Several efforts were made to win over
these dissentients; and the Reverend Mr. Ingram delivered an able
and liberal Latin speech , in which he indignantly represented the
shame that it would bring on the University, if such a name as thai
of Sheridan should be '•'•clam subductum" from the list. The two
scholars , however, were immoveable ^ and nothing remained but
to give Sheridan intimation of their intended opposition , so as to
enable him to decline the honour of having his name proposed. On
his appearance, afterwards, in the Theatre, a burst of acclama-
tion broke forth, with a general cry of "Mr. Sheridan among the
Doctors , — Sheridan among the Doctors ; in compliance with which
he was passed to the seat occupied by the Honorary Graduates , and
sat, in unrobed distinction, among them, during the whole of the
ceremonial. Few occurrences, of a public nature, ever gave him
more pleasure than this reception.
At the close of the year 1810, the malady , with which the King
had been thrice before afflicted , returned 5 and , after the usual ad-
journments of Parliament , it was found necessary to establish a
Regency. On (he question of the second adjournment, Mr. Sheri-
dan took a line directly opposed to that of his party, and voted with
the majority. That in this step he did not act from any previous
concert with the Prince appears from the following letter, addressed
by him to His Royal Highness on the subject, and containing par-
ticulars which will prepare the mind of the reader to judge more
clearly of the events that followed : —
"SiH,
" 1 felt infinite satisfaction when I was apprised that Your RoyaJ
Highness had been far from disapproving the line of conduct I bad pre-
sumed to pursue, on the last question of adjournment in the House of
Commons. Indeed, I never had a moment's doubt but that Your Royal
Higbness would give me credit tbat I was actuated on that, as I sltall on
every other occasion through my existence, by no possible motive but
tbe most sincere unmixed desire to look to Your Royal Higbness's honour
and true interest, as the objects of my political life, — directed as I am
sure your efforts will ever be, to the essential interests of tbe Country
and tbe Constitution. To this line of conduct I am prompted by every
OF R. B. SHERIDAN. 437
motive of personal gratitade, and con'Grmed by every opportunity, which
peculiar circumstances and long experience have afforded me, of judging
of your heart and understanding, — to the superior excellence of which
(beyond all, I believe, that ever stood in your rank and high relation to
society), I fear not to advance my humble testimony, because I scruple
not to say for myself, that 1 am no flatterer, and that I never found that
lo become one was the road to your real regard.
" I state thus much because it has been under the influence of these
Teelings that I have not felt myself warranted (without any previous com-
munication with Your Royal Highness ) to follow implicitly the dictates
of others, in whom, however they may be my superiors in many qualities,
I can subscribe to no superiority as to devoted attachment and duteous
affection to Your Royal Highness, or in that practical knowledge of the
public mind and character, upon which alone must be built that popular
and personal estimation of Your Royal Highness, so necessary to your
future happiness and glory, and to the prosperity of the nation you are
destined to rule over.
" On these grounds , I saw no policy or consistency in unnecessarily
giving a general sanction to the examination of the physicians before the
Council, and then attempting, on the question of adjournment, to hold
that examination as nought. On these grounds I have ventured to doubt
the wisdom or propriety of any endeavour (if any such endeavour has
been made) to induce Your Royal Highness, during so critical a'moment,
to stir an inch from the strong reserved post you had chosen, or give tbe
slightest public demonstration of any future intended political prefer-
ences;—convinced as I was that the rule of conduct you had prescribed
to yourself was precisely that which was gaining you the general heart,
and rendering it impracticable for any quarter to succeed in annexing
unworthy conditions to that most difficult situation , which you were
probably so soon to be called on to accept.
" I may, Sir, have been guilty of error of judgment in both these
respects, differing, as I fear 1 have done, from those whom I am bound so
highly to respect; but, at the same time, I deem it no presumption to say
that, until better instructed, I feel a strong confidence in the justness of
my own view of the subject; and simply because1 of this— I am sure that
the decisions of that judgment, be they sound or mistaken, have not at
least been rashly taken up, but were founded on deliberate zeal for your
service and glory, unmixed , I will confidently say, with any one selfish
object or political purpose of my own."
The same limitations and restrictions that Mr. Pitt proposed in
1789, weje, upon the same principles , adopted by the present Mi-
nister : nor did the Opposition differ otherwise from their former
line of argument, than by omitting altogether that claim of Right
for the Prince, which Mr. Fox had, in the proceedings of 1789,
asserted. The event that ensued is sufficiently well known. To the
surprise of the public (who expected , perhaps , rather than wished ,
Uiat the Coalesced Party, of which Lord Grey and Lord Grenville
were chiefs, should now succeed to power )(, Mr. Perceval and liis
•^8 MEMOIRS
colleagues were informed by the Regent that it was the intention of
His Royal Highness to continue them still in office.
The share taken by Mr. Sheridan in the transactions that led to
this decision, is one of those passages of his political life upon
which the criticism of his own party has been most severely exer-
cised , and into the details of which I feel most difficulty in entering :
— because , however curious it may be to penetrate into these "post-
scenia" of public life, it seems hardly delicate, while so many of
the chief actors are still upon the stage. As there exists, however,
a Paper drawn up by Mr. Sheridan , containing what he considered
a satisfactory defence of his conduct on this occasion, I should ill
discharge my duty towards his memory, were I , from any scruples
or predilections of my own , to deprive him of the advantage of a
statement , on which he appears to have relied so confidently for
his vindication.
But , first, — in order fully to understand the whole course of feel-
ings and circumstances by which not only Sheridan, but his Royal
Master (for their cause is, in a great degree, identified), were, for
some time past, predisposed towards the line of conduct which they
now pursued, — it will be necessary to recur to a few antecedent
events.
By the death of Mr. Fox the chief personal lie that connected
the Heir-Apparent with the party of that statesman was broken. The
political identity of the party itself had, even before that event,
been, in a great degree, disturbed, by a coalition against which
Sheridan had always most strongly protested , and to which the
Prince, there is every reason to believe , was by no means friendly.
Immediately after the death of Mr. Fox, His Royal Highness made
known his intentions of withdrawing from all personal interference
in politics ; and , though still continuing his sanction to the remain-
ing Ministry,' expressed himself as no longer desirous of being con-
sidered "a party man '." During the short time that these Minis-
ters continued in office , the understanding between them and the
Prince was by no means of that cordial and confidential kind , which
had been invariably maintained during the life-time of Mr. Fox.
On the contrary, the impression on the mind of His Royal High-
ness, as well as on those of his immediate friends in the Ministry,
1 This is the phrase used by the Prince himself, in. a Letter addressed to a
Noble Lord , (not long after the dismissal of the Grenville Ministry,) for the pur-
pose of vindicating his own character from some imputations cast upon it, in
consequence of an interview which he had lately had with the King, This impor-
tant exposition of the feelings of His Royal Highness, which, more than any
thing, throws light upon his subsequent conduct , was drawn up by Sheridan ;
and I had hoped that I should have been able to lay it before the reader :— but
the,liberly of perusing the Letter is all that has been allowed me.
OF R. B. SHERIDAN. 430
Lord Moira and Mr. Sheridan , was , lhat a cold neglecl had suc-
ceeded to the confidence with which they had hitherto been treated ;
and that, neither in their opinions or feelings , were they any longer
sufficiently consulted or considered. The very measure , by which
the Ministers ultimately lost their places, was, it appears, one of
those which the Illustrious Personage in question neither conceived
himself to have been sufficiently consulted upon before its adoption,
nor approved of afterwards.
Such were the gradual looscnings of a bond , which at no time
had promised much permanence ; and such the train of feelings and
circumstances which ( combining with certain prejudices in the
Royal mind against one of the chief leaders of the parly) prepared
the way for that result by which the Public was surprised in 1811 ,
and the private details of which 1 shall now, as briefly as possible,
relate.
As soon as the Bill for regulating the office of Regent had passed
the two Houses, the Prince , who , till then , had maintained a strict
reserve with respect to his intentions , signified , through Mr. Adam ,
his pleasure that Lord Grenville should wait upon him. He then,
in the most gracious manner, expressed to that Noble Lord his wish
that he should, in conjunction with Lord Grey, prepare the Answer
which His Royal Highness was, in a few days, to return to the Ad-
dress of the Houses. The same confidential task was entrusted also to
Lord Moira , with an expressed desire that he should consult with
Lord Grey and Lord Grenville on the subject. But this co-operation ,
as I understand , the two Noble Lords declined.
One of the embarrassing consequences of coalitions now appeared.
The recorded opinions of Lord Grenville on the Regency question
differed wholly and in principle not only from those of his coadjutor
in this task , but from those of the Royal person himself, whose sen-
timents he was called upon to interpret. In this difficulty the only
alternative that remained was so to neutralize the terms of Hie Answer
upon the great point of difference , as to preserve the consistency of
the Royal speaker, without at the same time compromising that of
his Noble adviser. It required, of course, no small art and delicacy
thus to throw into the shade that distinctive opinion of Whiggism ,
which Burke had clothed in his imperishable language in 1789, und
which Fox had solemnly bequeathed to the Party, when
" in Lift upward flight
He left his mantle there '."
The Answer, drawn up by the Noble Lords, did not, it must be
. surmount this difficulty very skilfully. The assertion of
; '' . i^., **.a'xvOo iSWlr
Joanu. Ifcillie.
440 MEMOIRS
the Prince's consistency was confined to two meagre sentences , in
the first of which His Royal Highness was made to say : — "With
respect to the proposed limitation of the authority to be entrusted to
me , I retain my former opinion : " — and in the other, the expres-
sion of any decided opinion upon the Constitutional point is thus
evaded : — "For such a purpose no restraint can be necessary to be
imposed upon me." Somewhat less vague and evasive, however,
was the justification of the opinion opposed to that of the Prince ,
in the following sentence : — "That day, when I may restore to the
King those powers which , as belonging only to him ', are in his
name and in his behalf," etc. , etc. This, it will be recollected , is
precisely the doctrine which , on the great question of limiting the
Prerogative , Mr. Fox attributed to the Tories. In another passage,
the Whig opinion of the Prince was thus tamely surrendered :—
"Conscious that, whatever degree of confidence you may tliink
fit to repose in me," etc. a.
The answer, thus constructed, was, by the two Noble Lords,
transmitted, through Mr. Adam, to the Prince, who, "strongly
objecting (as we are told) to almost every part of it," acceded to
the suggestion of Sheridan , whom he consulted on the subject ,
that a new form of Answer should be immediately sketched out ,
and submitted to the consideration of Lord Grey and Lord Gren-
ville. There was no time to be lost , as the Address of the Houses
was to be received the following day. Accordingly, Mr. Adam and
Mr. Sheridan proceeded that night, with the new draft of the Answer,
to Holland-House,, where, after a warm discussion, upon the sub-
ject with Lord Grey, which ended unsatisfactorily to both Parties ,
the final result was that the Answer drawn up by the Prince and
Sheridan was adopted. — Such is the bare outline of this transaction ,
the circumstances of which will be found fully detailed in the State-
ment that shall presently be given.
The accusation against Sheridan is, that chiefly to his under-
mining influence the view taken by the Prince of the Paper of
these Noble Lords is to be attributed $ and that not only was he
censurable in a constitutional point of view, for thus interfering
between the Sovereign and his responsible advisers , but that he
had been also guilty of an act of private perfidy, Endeavouring
' The words which I have pat in italics in these quotations are, in the same
manner, underlined in Sheridan's copy of the Paper, — doubtless, from a similar
view of their import to that which I have taken.
» On the back of Sheridan's own. copy of this Answer, I find, written by him ,
the following words : " Grenville's and Grey's proposed Answer from the prince
to the Address of the two Houses ; — very flimsy, and attempting to cover Gren-
ville's conduct and consistency in supporting the' present Restrictions at the
expense of the Prince."
OF R. B. SHERIDAN. Ul
to represent the Answer drawn up by these Noble Lords , as an at-
tempt to sacrifice the consistency and dignity of their Royal Master
to the compromise of opinions and principles which they had en-
tered into themselves.
Under the impression that such were the nature and motives of
his interference , Lord Grey and Lord Grenville, on the llth of
January (the day on which the Answer substituted for their own was
delivered) presented a joint Representation to the Regent, in which
they stated that u the circumstances which had occurred respecting
His Royal Highnesses Answer to the two Houses, had induced
them , most humbly, to solicit permission to submit to His Royal
Highness the following considerations, with the undisguised sin-
cerity which the occasion seemed to require, but, with every
expression that could best convey their respectful duty and inviolable
attachment. When His Royal Highness (they continued) did Lord
Grenville the honour, through Mr. Adam , to command his attend-
ance , it was distinctly expressed to him , that His Royal Highness
had condescended to select him, in conjunction with Lord Grey, to
be consulted with , as the public and responsible advisers of that
Answer ; and Lord Grenville could never forget the gracious terms
in which His Royal Highness had the goodness to lay these his> or-
ders upon him. It was also on the same grounds of public and res-
ponsible advice , that Lord-Grey, honoured in like manner by the
most gracious expression of His Royal Highnesses confidence on
this subject, applied himself to the consideration of it conjointly
with Lord Grenville. They could not but feel the difficulty of the
undertaking which required them to reconcile two objects, essen-
tially different, — to uphold and distinctly to manifest that unshaken
adherence to His Royal Highness's past and present opinion , which
consistency and honour required, but to conciliate, at the same
time, the feelings of the two Houses, by expressions of confidence
and affection, and to lay the foundation of that good understanding
between His Royal Highness and the Parliament , the establishment
of which must be the first wish of every man who is truly attached to
His Royal Highness, and who knows the value of the Constitution
of his country. Lord Grey and Lord Grenville were far from the pre-
sumption of believing that their humble endeavours for the execu-
tion of so difficult a task might not be susceptible of many and great
amendments.
"The draft (their Lordships said) which they humbly submitted to
His Royal Highness was considered by them as open to every remark
which might occur to His Royal Highness's better judgment. On every
occasion , but more especially in the preparation of His Royal Highness's
first act of government , it would have been no less their desire than their
4«2 MEMOIRS
duty to have profited by all such objections, and to have l>boured to ac-
complish , in the best manner they were able , every command which His
Royal Highness might have been pleased to lay upon them. Upon the
objects to be obtained there could be no difference of sentiment These ,
such as above described, were , they confidently believed, not less im-
portant in His Royal Highness's view of the subject than in that which
they themselves had ventured to express. But they would be wanting in
that sincerity and openness by which they could alone hope, however
imperfectly, to make any return to that gracious confidence with which
His Royal Highness had condescended to honour them, if they suppressed
the expression of their deep concern, in finding that their humble en-
deavours in His Royal Highness's service had been submitted to the judg-
ment of another person, by whose advice His Royal Highness had been
guided in his final decision , on a matter on which they alone had, how-
ever unworthily, been honoured with His Royal Highness's commands.
It was their most sincere and ardent wish that, in the arduous station
which His Royal Highness was about to fill, he might have the benefit
of the public advice and responsible services of those men, whoever they
might be, by whom His Royal Highness's glory and the interests of the
country could best be promoted. It would be with unfeigned distrust of
their own means of discharging such duties that they could, in any case,
•venture to undertake them; and, in this humble but respectful repre-
sentation which they had presumed to make of their feelings on this oc-
casion, they were conscious of being actuated not less by their dutiful
and grateful attachment to His Royal Highness, than by those principles
of constitutional responsibility, the maintenance of which they deemed
essential to any hope of a successful administration of the public in-
terests/'
On receiving this Representation , in which , it must be confessed ,
there was more of high spirit and dignity than of worldly wisdom ' ,
His Royal Highness lost no time in communicating it to Sheridan ,
who , proud of the influence attributed to him by the Noble writers ,
and now more than ever stimulated to make them feel its weight ,
1 To the pure and dignified character of the Noble Whig associated iu this
Remonstrance, it is unnecessary for me to say how heartily I Lear testimony.
The only fault, indeed, of this distinguished person is, that, knowing but one
high course of conduct for himself, he impatiently resents any sinking from that
pitch in others. Then, only, in his true station, when placed between the People
and the Crown , as one of those fortresses that ornament and defend the frontier
of Democracy, he has shown that he can bnt ill suit the dimensions of his spirit to
the narrow avenues of a Court, or, like that Pope who stooped to look for the
keys of St. Peter, accommodate his natural elevation to the pursuit of official
power. All the pliancy of his nature is, indeed, reserved for private life, where
the repose of the valley succeeds to the grandeur of the mountain , and where the
lofty statesman gracefully subsides into the gentle husband and father, and the
frank , social friend.
The eloquence of Lord Grey, more than that of any other person, brings to
mind what Qnintilian says of the gre"at and noble orator, Messalu : — "Qttodam-
modo pree se ferens in dicendo nobilitatcm suam."
OF R. B. SHERIDAN. 143
employed the whole force of his shrewdness and ridicule ' in ex-
posing the stately tone of dictation which , according to his view ,
was assumed throughout this Paper, and in picturing to the Prince
the stale of tutelage he might expect , under Ministers who began
thus early with their lectures. Such suggestions, even if less ably
urged , \\ere but too sure of a willing audience in the ears to which
they were addressed. Shortly after, His Royal Highness paid a visit
to Windsor, where the Queen and another Royal Personage com-
pleted what had been so skilfully begun -, and the important resolu-
tion was forthwith taken to retain Mr. Perceval and his colleagues
in the Ministry.
I shall now give the Statement of the whole transaction , which
3Ir. Sheridan thought it necessary to address , in his own defence ,
to Lord Holland , and of which a rough and a fair copy have been
found carefully preserved among his papers : —
"DEAR HOLLAND, Queen-Street , January i5, 1811.
" As you have been already apprised by His Royal Highness the Prince
that bethought it becoming the frank ness of his character, and consistent
with the fairness and openness of proceeding due to any of his servants
whose conduct appears to have incurred the disapprobation of Lord Grey
and Lord Grenville, to communicate their representations on the subject
to the person so censured, I am confident you will give me credit for the
pain I must have felt, to find myself an object of suspicion , or likely , in
the slightest degree , to become the cause of any temporary misunder-
standing between His Royal Highness and those distinguished characters,
whom His Royal Highness appears to destine to those responsible situa-
tions, which must in all public matters entitle them to his exclusive con-
fidence.
" I shall, as briefly as I can, state the circumstances of the fact, so
distinctly referred to in the following passage of the Noble Lords' Re-
presentation : —
" 'But they would be wanting in that sincerity and openness by which
they can alone hope, however imperfectly, to make any return to that
gracious confidence with which Your Royal Highness has condescended
to honour them, if they suppressed the expression of their deep concern
in finding that their humble endeavours in Your Royal Highness's service
have been submitted to the judgment of another person , by -whose ad-
' He called rhymes also to his aid, as appears by the following: —
" An. Address to the Piince , 1811.
" la all humility we crave
Our Regent may become our slave.
And being so, we trust that HE
Will tliank us for our loyalty.
Then , if he'll help us to pull down
His Father's dignity and Crowu ,
We'll make lain , iti some time to coinc ,
The greatest Prime iu Christendom."
4U MEMOIRS
vice Your Royal Highness has been guided in your final decision on a
matter in which they alone had, however unworthily, been honoured
with Your, Royal Highness's commands.'
" I must premise , that from my first intercourse with the Prince during
the present distressing emergency, such conversation as he may have
honoured me with have been communications of resolutions already
formed oa his part, and not of matter referred to consultation, or sub-
mitted to advice. I know that my declining to vote for the further ad-
journment of the Privy Council's examination of the physicians gave
offence to some, and was considered as a difference from the party I was
rightly esteemed to belong to. The intentions of the leaders of the party
upon that question were in no way distinctly known to me; my secession
was entirely my own act, and not only unauthorised, but perhaps un-
expected by the Prince. My motives for it I took the liberty of commu-
nicating to His Royal Highness, by letter', the next day, and, pre-
viously to that, I had not even seen His Royal Highness since the
confirmation of His Majesty's malady.
" If I differed from those who, equally attached to His Royal High-
ness's interest and honour, thought that His Royal Highness should have
taken the step which, in my humble opinion, he has since, precisely at
the proper period, taken, of sending to Lord Grenville and Lord Grey ,
I may certainly have erred in forming an imperfect judgment on the oc-
casion , but, in doing so, I meant no disrespect to those who had taken
a different view of the subject. But, with all deference, I cannot avoid
adding, that experience of the impression made on the public mind by
the reserved and retired conduct which the Prince thought proper to
adopt, has not shaken my opinion of the wisdom which prompted him
to that determination. But here, again, I declare, that I must reject the
presumption that any suggestion of mine led to the rule which the Prince
had prescribed to himself, my knowledge of it being, as I before said,
the communication of a resolution formed on the part of His Royal
Highness, and not of a proposition awaiting the advice, countenance, or
corroboration , of any other person. Having thought it necessary to pre-
mise thus much , as I wish to write to you without reserve or concealment
of any sort , I shall as briefly as I can relate the facts which attended the
composing the Answer itself, as far as I was concerned.
"On Sunday, or on Monday the 7th instant, I mentioned to Lord
Moira or to Adam, that the Address of the two Houses would come very
quickly upon the Prince , and that he should be prepared with his An-
swer, without entertaining the least idea of meddling with the subject
myself, having received no authority from His Royal Highness to do so.
Either Lord Moira or Adam informed me, before I left Carlton-House ,
that. His Royal Highness had directed Lord Moira to sketch an outline
of the Answer proposed , and 1 left town. On Tuesday evening it occur-
red to me to try at a sketch also of the intended reply. On Wednesday
morning I read it , at Carlton-House, very hastily to Adam before I saw
the Prince. And here I must pause to declare, that I have entirely with-
drawn from my mind any doubt, if for a moment I ever entertained any ,
' This Letter has heen given in page 402, vol. ii.
OF R. B. SHERIDAN. 44ft
of the perfect propriety of Adam's conduct at that hurried interview;
being also long convinced, as well from intercourse with him atCarlton-
House as in every transaction I have witnessed, that it is impossible for
him to act otherwise than with the most entire sincerity and honour
towards all lie deals with. I then read the Paper I had pnt together to
the Prince, — the most essential part of it literally consisting of sentiments
and expressions, which had fallen from the Prince himself in different
conversations ; and I read it to him without having once heard Lord
(sicnville's name even mentioned , as in any way connected with the
Answer proposed to be submitted to the Prince. On the contrary, indeed,
I was under an impression that the framing this Answer was considered
as the single act which it would be an unfair and embarrassing task to
require the performance of from Lord Grenville. The Prince approved
the Paper I read to him, objecting however, to some additional para-
graph of my own, and altering others. In the course of his observations,
he cursorily mentioned that Lord Grenville had undertaken to sketch
out his idea of a proper Answer, and that Lord Moira had done the
same, — evidently expressing himself, to my apprehension, as not consi-
dering the framing of this Answer as a matter of official responsibility
any where , but that it was his intention to take the choice and decision
respecting it on himself. If, however, I had known, before I entered the
Prince's apartment , that Lord Grenville and Lord Grey had in any way
undertaken to frame the Answer , and had thought themselves authorised
to do so, I protest the Prince would never even have heard of the draft
which I had prepared, though containing, as I before said, the Prince's
own ideas.
"His Royal Highness having laid his commands on Adam and me to
dine with him alone on the next day, Thursday, I then, for the first
time , learnt that Lord Grey and Lord Grenville had transmitted, through
Adam, a formal draft of an Answer to be submitted to the Prince.
" Under these circumstances I thought it became me humbly to re-
quest the Prince not to refer to me, in any respect, the Paper of the
Noble Lords, or to insist even on nay hearing its contents; but that I
might be permitted to put the draft hehadreceived from me into the fire.
The Prince, however, who had read the JXoble Lords' Paper > declining
to hear of this, proceeded to state how strongly he objected to almost
every part of it. The draft delivered by Adam he took a copy of himself,
as Mr. Adam read it , affixing shortly, but warmly, his comments to each
paragraph. Finding His Royal Highness's objections to the whole radical
and insuperable, and seeing no means myself by which the Noble Lords
could change their draft, so as to meet the Prince's ideas, I ventured to
propose, as the only expedient of which the time allowed, that both the
Papers should be laid aside, and that a very short Answer, indeed , keep-
ing clear of all topics liable to disagreement, should he immediately
sketched out , and be submitted that night to the judgment of Lord Grey
and Lord Grenville. The lateness of the hour prevented any but very
hasty discussion, and Adam and myself proceeded , by His Royal High-
ness's orders, to your house to relate what had passed to Lord Grey. I
do not mean to disguise , however, that when 1 found myself bound to-
give my opinion, I did fully assent to the force and justice of the Prince's
446 MEMOIRS
objections, and made other observations of my own , which I thought it
my duty to do, conceiving, as I freely said, that the Paper could not have
been drawn up but under the pressure of embarrassing difficulties , and ,
as I conceived also, in considerable haste.
" Before we left Carlton-House , it was agreed between Adam and
myself that we were not so strictly enjoined by the Prince, as to make it
necessary for us to communicate to the Noble Lords the marginal com-
ments of the Prince, and we determined to withhold them. But at the
meeting with Lord Grey, at your house , he appeared to me, erroneously
perhaps, to decline considering the objections as coming from the
Prince, but as originating in my suggestions. Upon this, I certainly
called on Adam to produce the Prince's copy , with his notes , in His
Royal Highness's own hand-writing.
"Afterwards, finding myself considerably hurt at an expression of
Lord Grey's , which could only be pointed at me , and which expressed
his opinion that the whole of the Paper, which he assumed me to be res-
ponsible for, was ' drawn up in an invidious spirit,' I certainly did, with
more warmth than was perhaps discreet , comment on the Paper pro-
posed to be substituted; and there ended, with no good effect, our in-
terview.
" Adam and I saw the Prince again that night , when His Royal High-
ness was graciously pleased to meet our joint and earnest request, by
striking out from the draft of the Answer, to which he still resolved to
adhere, every passage which we conceived to be most liable to objection
on the part of Lord Grey and Lord Grenville.
" On the next morning, Friday, —a short time before he was to receive
the Address, — when Adam returned from the Noble Lords, with their
expressed disclaimer of the preferred Answer, altered, as it was , His
Royal Highness still persevered to eradicate every remaining word which
he thought might yet appear exceptionable to them , and made further
alterations, although the fair copy of the paper had been made out.
" Thus the Answer, nearly reduced to the expression of the Prince's
own suggestions, and without an opportunity of farther meeting the
\\ishes of the Noble Lords, was delivered by His Royal Highness, and
presented by the Deputation of the two Houses.
" I am ashamed to have been thus prolix and circumstantial upon a
matter which may appear to have admitted of much shorter explanation ;
but when misconception has produced distrust among those, I hope, not
willingly disposed to differ, and who can have, I equally trust, but one
common object in view in their different stations , I know no better way
than by minuteness and accuracy of detail to remove whatever may have
appeared doubtful in conduct while unexplained , or inconsistent in prin-
ciple not clearly re-asserted.
" And now , my dear Lord , I have only shortly to express my own
personal mortification, I will use no other word, that I should have been
considered by any persons, however high in rank, or1 justly entitled to
high political pretensions , as one so little ' attached to His Royal High-
ness,' or so ignorant of the value ' of the Constitution of his country ,' as
to be held out to HIM, whose fairly-earned esteem I regard as the first
honour and the sole reward of my political life, in the character of an
Ol R.'B. SHERIDAN. 44?
interested contriver of a double government, and, in some measure, as
an apostate from all my former principles, — which have taught me, as
well as the INoble Lords, that ' the maintenance of constitutional respon-
sibility in the ministers of the Crown is essential to any hope of success
in the administration of the public interest.'
" At the same time, I am most ready to admit that it could not he
their intention so to characterise me ; but it is the direct inference which
others must gather from the first paragraph I have quoted from their
Representation , and an inference which, I understand, has already
been raised in public opinion. A departure, my dear Lord, on my part,
from upholding the principle declared by the Noble Lords, much more
a persumptuous and certainly ineffectual attempt to inculcate a contrary
doctrine on the mind of the Prince of Wales, would, I am confident r
lose me every particle of his favour and confidence at once and for ever.
But I am yet to learn what part of my past public life , — and I challenge
observation on every part of my present proceedings, — has warranted
the adoption of any such suspicion of me, or the expression of any such
imputation against me. But I will dwell no longer on this point, as it
relates only to my own feelings and character; which, however, I am
the more bound to consider, as others, in my humble judgment , have
so hastily disregarded both. At the same time, I do sincerely declare,
that no personal disappointment in my own mind interferes with the
respect and esteem I entertain for Lord Greuville, or in addition to
those sentiments, the friendly regard' I owe to Lord Grey. To Lord
Grenville I have the honour to be but very little personally known. From
Lord Grey, intimately acquainted as he was with every circumstance of
my conduct and principles in the years 1788—9, I confess I should have
expected a very tardy and reluctant interpretation of any circumstance
to my disadvantage. What the nature of my endeavours were at that
lime , I have the written testimonies of Mr Fox and the Duke of Port-
land. To you I know those testimonies are not necessary, and perhaps it.
has been my recollection of what passed in those times that may have
led me too securely to conceive myself above the reach even of a suspi-
cion that I could adopt different principles now. Such as they were they
remain untouched and unaltered. I conclude with sincerely declaring,
that to see the Prince meeting the reward which his own honourable
nature , his kind and generous disposition , and his genuine devotion to
the true objects of our free Constitution so well entitle him to , by being
surrounded and supported by an Administration affectionate to his per-
son, and ambitious of gaining and meriting his entire esteem, (yet tena-
cious, above all things, of the constitutional principle, that exclusive
confidence must attach to the responsibility of those whom he selects to
lie his public servants, ) I would with heartfelt satisfaction rather be a
looker-on of such a Government, giving it such humble support as might
be in my power, than be the possessor of any possible situation either
of profit or ambition, to be obtained by any indirectness, or by the
slightest departure from the principles I have always professed, and
which I have now felt myself in a manner called upon to re-assert.
" I have only to add , that my respect for the Prince , and my sense of
the frankness he has shown towards me on this occasion, decide mcr
448 MEMOIRS
v.ith all duty, to submit this letter to his perusal, liefore I place it in
your hands; meaning it undoubtedly to be by you shown to those to
whom your judgment may deem it of any consequence to communicate it.
" I have the honour to be, etc.
" To Lord Holland. (Signed ) " R. B. SHERIDAN.
" Read and approved by the Prince, January 20- 181 1 .
" R. B. S."
Though this Statement , it must be recollected , exhibits but one
side of the question , and is silent as to the part that Sheridan took
after the delivery of the Remonstrance of the two Noble Lords , yet ,
combined with preceding events and with the insight into motives
which they afford , it may sufficiently enable the reader to form his
own judgment , with respect to the conduct of the different persons
concerned in the transaction. With the better and more ostensible
motives of Sheridan*, there was, no doubt, some mixture of what
the Platonisls call the " material alluvion" of our nature. His poli-
tical repugnance to the Coalesced Leaders would have been less
strong but for the personal feelings that mingled with it ; and his
anxiety that the Prince should not be dictated to by others , was at
least equalled by his vanity in showing that he could govern him
himself. But, whatever were the precise views that impelled him to
this trial of strength , the victory which he gained in it was far more
extensive than he himself had either foreseen or wished. He had
meant the party lofeel his power, — not to sink under it. Though
privately alienated from them, on personal as well as political
grounds , he knew that , publicly, he was too much identified with
their ranks , ever to serve , with credit or consistency, in any olher.
He had , therefore , in the ardour of undermining , carried the
ground from beneath his own feet. In helping to disband his parly,
he had cashiered himself; and there remained to him now, for the
residue of his days , but that frailest of all sublunary treasures , a
Prince's friendship.
With this conviction , ( which , in spite of all the sanguineness
of his disposition , could hardly have failed to force itself on his
mind , ) it was not , we should think , with very self-gralulatory
feelings that he undertook the task , a few weeks after, of inditing ,
for the Regent, that memorable Letter to Mr. Perceval, which
sealed the fate at once both of his party and himself, and , whatever
false signs of re-animation may afterwards have appeared , severed
the last life-lock by which the " struggling spirit1 " of this friendship
between Royalty and Whiggism still held :—
" dextra crinem secat, omniset una
Dilapsus calor, atque in I'tntos vilit recessit."
1 Lnctfins anima.
OF K. H. SHERIDAN. 449
With respect to the chief Personage connected with these transac-
tions , it is a proof of the tendency of knowledge to produce a spirit
of tolerance, that they who, judging merely from the surface of
events, have been most forward in reprobating his separation from
the Whigs , as a rupture of political ties and an abandonment of
private friendships, must, on becoming more thoroughly acquainted
with all the circumstances that led to this crisis, learn to soften down
considerably their angry feelings ; and to see , indeed , in the whole
history of the connexion, — from its first formation, in the hey-day of
youth and party, to its faint survival after the death of Mr. Fox ,—
but a natural and destined gradation towards the result at which it
at last arrived, after as much fluctuation of political principle on
one side , as there was of indifference , perhaps, to all political prin-
ciple on the other.
Among the arrangements that had been made , in contemplation
of a new Ministry, at this time, it was intended that Lord Moira
should go , as Lord Lieutenant to Ireland , and that Mr. Sheridan
should accompany him as Chief Secretary.
CHAPTER XXL
Affairs of the New Theatre. — Mr. Whjtbread. — Negotiations with Lord
Grey and Lord Grenville.— Conduct of Mr. Sheridan relative to the
Household. — His last words in Parliament. — Failure at Stafford.—
Correspondrnce with Mr. Whitbread. — Lord Byron. — Distresses of
Sheridan. — Illness. — Death and Funeral.— General Remarks.
IT was not till the close of this year that the Reports of the Com-
mittee, appointed under the Act for rebuilding the Theatre of Drury-
Lane , were laid before the public. By these it appeared that Sheri-
dan was to receive, for his moiety of the property, 24,000/. , out
of which sum the claims of the Linley family and others were to be
satisfied •, — that a further sum of 40001. was to be paid to him for
the property of the Fruit Ofllces and Reversion of Boxes and Shares ;
— and that his son , Mr. Thomas Sheridan , was to receive , for his
quarter of the Patent Property, 12,000/.
The gratitude that Sheridan felt to Mr. Whitbread at first , for
the kindness with which he undertook this most arduous task , did
not long remain unembillered when they entered into practical de-
tails. It would be difficult indeed to find two persons less likely to
agree in a transaction of this nature — the one , in affairs of business,
approaching almost as near to the extreme of rigour as the other to
that of laxity. While Sheridan , loo ,— like those painters who en-
deavour to disguise their ignorance of anatomy by an indistinct and
outline ,-r-had an imposing method of generalising his ac-
450 MFMOIilS
counts and statements , which , to most eyes , concealed the negli-
gence and fallacy of the details , Mr. Whilbread , on the contrary,
with an unrelenting accuracy, laid open the niinutia) of every trans-
action, and made evasion as impossible to others as it was alien
and inconceivable to himself. He was , perhaps , the only person
whom Sheridan had ever found proof against his powers of persua-
sjon • and this rigidity naturally mortified his pride full as much
as it thwarted and disconcerted his views.
Among the conditions to which he agreed , in order to facilitate
the arrangements of the Committee , the most painful lo him was
that which stipulated that he himself should " have no concern or
connexion , oi' any kind whatever, w ith the new undertaking." This
concession, however, he, at first, regarded as a mere matter of
form — feeling confident that , even without any effort of his own ,
the necessity under which the new Committee would find them-
selves of recurring to his advice and assistance, would ere long
reinstate him in all his former influence. But in this hope he was
disappointed— his exclusion from all concern in the new Theatre
( which , it is said , was made a sine qua non by all who embarked
in it,) was inexorably enforced by Whilbread 5 and the following
leller addressed by him to the latter will show the stale of their
respective feelings on Ihis point : —
" MY DEAR WlIITBREAD,
" I am not going to write you a controversial or even an argumentative
loiter, but simply to put down the heads of a few matters which I wisli
shortly to converse with you upon , in the most amicable and temperate
manner, deprecating the impatience which may sometimes have mixed
in our discussions, and not contending who has been the aggressor.
" The main point you seem to have had so much at heart you have
carried , so there is an end of that ; and I shall as fairly and cordially
endeavour to advise and assist Mr. Benjamin \Vyatt in the improving
and perfecting his plan as if it had been my own preferable selection,
assuming , as I must do , that there cannot exist an individual in England
so presumptuous, or so void of common sense, as not sincerely to solicit
the aid of my practical experience on this occasion, even were I not, in
justice to the Subscribers, bound spontaneously to offer it.
" But it would be unmanly dissimulation in me to retain the senti-
ments I do with respect lo your doctrine on this subject, and not express
what I so strongly feel. That doctrine was, to my utter astonishment,
to say no more , first promulgated to me in a letter from you , written
in town, in the following terms. Speaking of building and plans, you
say to me , ' You arc in no way answerable if a bad Theatre is built .-
it is not YOU wlio build it; and if we come to the STRICT RIGHT of llie (king,
you IMVC NO BUSINESS TO INTERFERE :' and further on you sa\ , ' ff'ill you
but STAND ALOOF, and every thing will go smooth, arid a good Theatre
OF K. B. SHERIDAN. 451
shall be built ;' and iu conversation von put, as a similar case, that ' if
a man sold another a piece of land , it was nothing to the seller whether
the purchaser built himself a good or a bad house upon it.' Now I declare
before God I never felt more amazement than that a man of your
powerful intellect, just view of all subjects, and knowledge of the
world, should hold such language, or resort to such arguments ; and
1 must be convinced, that, although in an impatient moment this opinion
may have fallen from you, .upon the least reflection or the slightest
attention to the reason of the case, you would, ' albeit unused to the
retracting mood,' confess the erroneous view you had taken of the
subject. Otherwise , I must think, and with the deepest regret would it
be , that although you originally engaged in this business from motives
of the purest and kindest regard for me and my family, your ardour and
zealous eagerness to accomplish the difficult task you had undertaken
have led you, in this instance, to overlook what is due to my feelings,
to my honour, and my just interests. For, supposing I were to ' stand
aloof,'1 totally unconcerned, provided I were paid for my share , whether
the new Theatre were excellent or execrable , and that the result should
be that the Subscribers , instead of profit , could not through the
misconstruction of the house , obtain one per cent, for their money, do
you seriously believe you could find a single man , woman , or child , in
the kingdom, out of the committee, who would believe that I was
wholly guiltless of the failure, having been so stultified and proscribed
by the Committee, (a Committee of my own nomination, ) as to have
been compelled to admit, as the condition of my being paid for my share,
that « it was nothing to me whether the Theatre was good or bad ?' or,
on the contrary, can it be denied that the reproaches of disappointment,
through the great body of the Subscribers, would be directed against me,
and me alone ?
" So much as to character :— now as to my feelings on the subject,
— I must say that in friendship, at least, if not in ' strict right,' they
ought to be consulted , even though the Committee could either prove
that 1 had not to apprehend any share in the discredit and discontent
which might follow the ill success of their plan , or that I was entitled
to brave whatever malice or ignorance might direct against me. Next,
and lastly, as to my just interest in the property I am to part with, a
consideration to which, however careless I might be were I alone con-
cerned, I am bound to attend in justice to my own private creditors,
observe how the matter stands : — 1 agree to wave my own ' strict rigltl'
to be paid before the funds can be applied to the building, and this in
the confidence and on the continued understanding , that my advice
should be so far respected that even should the subscription not fill, I
should at least see a Theatre capable of being charged with, and ulti-
mately of discharging, what should remain justly due to the proprietors.
To illustrate this I refer to the size of the pit, the number of private
boxes, and the annexation of a tavern; but in what a situation would
the doctrine of your Committee leave me and my son ? ' It is nothing to
us how the Theatre is built or whether it prospers or not.' These are
two circumstances we have nothing to dojwith ; only, unfortunately, upon
them may depend our l>cst chance of receiving any payment for the
V>2 MEMOIRS
property \vc part with. It is nothing to us how the ship is refitted or
manned, only we must leave all we are worth on board her, and abide
the chance of her success. Now I am confident your j ustice will see , that
in order that the Committee should, in ' strict right,' become entitled to
deal thus with us, and bid us stand aloof, they should buy us out, and
make good the payment. But the reverse of this has been my own pro-
posal , and I neither repent nor wish to make any change in it.
" I have totally departed from my intention , when I first began this
letter, for which I ought to apologize to you ; but it may save much
future talk : other less important matters will do in conversation. You
will allow that I have placed in you the. most implicit confidence — have
the reasonable trust in me that, in any communication I may have with
B. Wyatt, my object will not be to obstruct, as you have hastily expressed
it, but bond fide to assist him to render his Theatre as perfect as possible,
as well with a view to the public accommodation as to profit to the Sub-
scribers ; neither of which can be obtained without establishing a re-
putation for him which must be the basis of his future fortune.
"And now, after all this statement, you will perhaps be surprised to
find how little I require, — simply some Resolution of the Committee to
the effect of that 1 enclose.
" I conclude with heartily thanking you for the declaration you made
respecting me, and reported to me by Peter Moore, at the close of the
last meeting of the Committee. I am convinced of your sincerity ; but as
I have before described the character of the gratitude I feel towards
you in a letter written likewise in this house , I have only to say, that
every sentiment in that letter remains unabated and unalterable.
" Ever, my dar Whitbread,
" Yours, faithfully.
" P. S. The discussion we had yesterday respecting some investigation
of the past, which I deem so essential to my character and to my peace
of mind, and your present concurrence with me on that subject, have
relieved my mind from great anxiety, though I cannot, but still think the
better opportunity has been passed by. One word more, and I release
you. Tom informed me that you had hinted to him that any demands,
not practicable to be settled by the Committee , must fall on the pro-
prietors. My resolution is to take all such on myself, and to leave Tom's
share untouched."
Another concession , which Sheridan himself had volunteered .
namely, Ihe postponement of his right of being paid the amount ol
his claim, till after the Theatre should be built , was also a subject
of much acrimonious discussion between the two friends , — She-
ridan applying to this condition that sort of lax interpretation,
which would have left him the credit of the sacrifice without ils
inconvenience, and Whilbread, with a firmness of grasp, to which,
unluckily, the other had been unaccustomed in business, holding
him to the strict letter of his voluntary agreement with the Subscri-
bers. Never, indeed , was there a more melancholy example than
OF R: B. SHERIDAN. i53
Sheridan exhibited, at this moment, of the last, hard struggle of
pride and delicacy against the most deadly foe of both , pecuniary
involvement , — which thus gathers round its victims, fold after fold,
till they are at length crushed in its inextricable clasp.
The mere likelihood of a sum of money being placed at his dis-
posal was sufficient — like the "bright day that brings forth me
udder" — to call into life the activity of all his duns ; and how libe-
rally he made the fund available among them , appears from the
following letter of Whilbread , addressed , not to Sheridan himself,
but. apparently, ( the direction is wanting,) to some man of busi-
ness connected with him : —
" MY DEAR SIR,
" I had determined not to give any written answer to the note you
put into my hands yesterday morning; but a further perusal of it leads
me to think it better to make a statement in writing why I, for one,
cannot comply with the request it contains , and to repel the impression
which appears to have existed in Mr. Sheridan's mind at the time that
note was written. He insinuates that to some postponement of his
interest, by the Committee, is owing the distressed situation in which
he is unfortunately placed.
"Whatever postponement of the interests of the Proprietors may ulti-
mately be resorted to, as matter of indispensable necessity from the state of
the Subscription Fund, will originate in the written suggestion of Mr.
Sheridan himself ; and, in certain circumstances, unless such latitude were
.illowed on his part, the execution of the Act could not have been
attempted.
" At present there is no postponement of his interest— but there is
an utter impossibility of touching the Subscription Fund at all, except
for very trifling specified articles, until a supplementary Act of Parlia-
ment shall have been obtained.
*' By the present Act, even if the Subscription were full, and no
impediments existed to the use of the money, the Act itself, and the
incidental expenses of plans, surveys, etc. are first to be paid for, — then
the portion of Killegrevv's Patent, — then the claimants, — and then the
Proprietors. Now the Act is not paid for : White and Martindale are
not paid; and not one single claimant is paid, nor can any one of them
In: paid, until we have fresh powers and additional subscription.
" How then can Mr. Sheridan attribute to any postponement of his
interests, actually made by the Committee, the present condition of his
affairs? and why are we driven to these observations and explanations?
" We cannot but all deeply lament his distress, but the palliation he
proposes it is not in onr power to give.
" We cannot guarantee Mr. Hammersley upon the fund coming
eventually to Mr. Sheridan. He alludes to the claims he has already
created upon that fund. He must, besides, recollect the list of names
lur sent to me some time ago, of persons to whom he felt himself in
honour hound to appropriate to each his share of that fund, in common
ia4 MEMOIRS
with others for -whose names he left a blank, and who, he says in the?
same letter, have written engagements from him. Besides, he has com-
municated both to Mr. Taylor and to Mr. Shaw, through me , offers to
impound the whole of the sum to answer the issue of the unsettled
demands made upon him by those gentlemen respectively.
" How then can we guarantee Mr. Hammersley in the payment of any
sum out of this fund, so circumstanced ? Mr. Hammersle\'s possible
proGts are prospective, and the prospect remote. I know the positive
losses lie sustains, and the sacriflces he is obliged to make to procure the
chance of the compromise he is willing to accept.
"Add to all this, that we are still struggling with difficulties which
we may or may not overcome; that those difficulties are greatly increased
by the persons whose interest and duty should equally lead them to give
us every facility and assistance in the labours we have disinterestedly
undertaken , and are determined faithfully to discharge. If we fail at last,
from whatever cause, the whole vanishes.
"You know, my dear Sir, that 1 grieve for the sad state of Mr. She-
ridan's affairs. I would contribute my mite to their temporary relief, if it
would lie acceptable ; but as one of the Committee , intrusted with a
public fund, I can do nothing. I cannot be a party to any claim upon
Mr. Hammersley: and I utterly deny that, individually, or as part of the
Committee, any step taken by me, or with my concurrence, has pressed
upon the circumstances of Mr. Sheridan.
" I am,
" My dear Sir,
"Faithfully jours,
" Soutliill , Di:c. HJ, 1811. "SAMUEL WHITBREAD."
A Dissolution of Parliament being expected to take place,
Mr. Sheridan again turned his eyes to Stafford; and, in spite of
(he estrangement to v, Inch his infidelities at Westminster had given
rise, saw enough , he thought, of the '; 'vctcris vestigia Jlainmce '
fo encourage him to hope for a renewal of the connexion. The
following letter to Sir Oswald Moseley explains his views and ex-
pectations on the subject : —
" Cavendish- Squnre , .Nov. 29. 1811.
"DEAR Stu OSWALD,
" Being apprized that you have decided to decline offering yourself a
candidate for Stafford , when a future election may arrive,— a place where
you are highly esteemed, and where every humble service in my power,
as I have before declared to you, should have been at your command , —
I have determined to accept the very cordial invitations I have received
from old friends in that quarter, and (though entirely secure of my seat
at llchester, and, indeed, even of the second seat for my sou, through
the liberality of Sir W. Manners ) , to return to the old goal from whence
I started thirty-one years since! You will easily see that arrangements at
Tlchester may be made towards assisting me , in point of expense, to meet
any opposition, and, in that respect,, nothing will be wanting. It will,
OF R. B. SHERIDAN. «4
I confess, be very gratifying to me to be again elected by the sons nf
f/i»\t: \vbo chose me in the yew eighty, and adhered to me so stoutly and
so long. I think I was returned for Stafford seven , if not eight times ,
including two most tough and expensive contests; and , in taking a tem-
porary leave of them I am sure my credit must stand well, for not a shil-
ling did I leave unpaid. I have written to the Jerninghams, who , in the
handsomest manner, have ever given me their warmest support; and as
no political object interests my mind so much as the Catholic cause , I
have no doubt that, independent of their personal friendship, I shall
receive a continuation of their honourable support. I feel it to be no
presumption to add , that other respectable interests in the neighbourhood
will b ewith me.
" I need scarcely add my sanguine hope , that whatever interest rests
with you (which ought to be much) will also be in my favour.
" I have the honour to be ,
" With great esteem and regard,
" Yours most sincerely.,
'iiu:! ; " R- B. SHERIDAN.
" I mean to be in Stafford from Lord G. Levison's in about a fortnight."
Among a number of notes addressed to his former constituents
at this lime, (which I find written in his neatest hand, as if in-
tended 10 be sent ,) is this curious one : —
" Cavendish- Square , Sunday night
" DEAR KING JOHN,
"I shall be in Stafford in the course of next" week , and if your Majesty
does not renew our old alliance, I shall never again have faith in any
potentate on earth.
" Yours very sincerely,
"Mr. John K. "R. B SHERIDAN."
1 -:// "ill .y(JM Y/MI;* Ofi teriw r.J • S iy>h;/9b
The two attempts that were made in the course of the year 1812
— the one, on the cessalion of the Regency Restrictions, and the
other after the assassination of Mr. Perceval , — to bring the Whigs
into official relations with the Court, were , it is evident, but little
inspired , on either side , with the feelings likely to lead to such a
result. It requires but a perusal of the published correspondence,
in both cases , to convince us that, at the bottom of all these evolu-
tions of negotiation, there was any thing but a sincere wish that the
object to which they related should be accomplished. The Mare-
chal Bassompiere was not more afraid of succeeding in his warfare,
\\ hen he said, ",/e crois que nous scrons assez fous pour prendn*
la Roc/idle ," than was one of the parties , at least , in these nego-^
nations , of any favourable turn that might inflict success upon its
overtures. Even where the Court — as in the contested point of Hie
Household — professed its. readiness to accede to the surrcnderso
injudiciously demanded of it, I hose who acted as its discretionary
4Jtt MEMOIRS
organs knew too well the real wishes in that quarter, and had been
too long and faithfully zealous in their devotion to those wishes ,
to leave any fear that advantage would be taken of the concession.
But, however high and chivalrous was the feeling with which Lord
Moira , on this occasion , threw himself into the breach for his Royal
Master, the service of Sheridan , though flowing partly from the
same zeal, was not, I grieve to say, of the same clear and honour-
able character.
Lord Yarmouth, it is well known, stated in the House of Com-
mons that he had communicated to Mr. Sheridan the intention of
the Household to resign , with the view of having that intention
conveyed to Lord Grey and Lord Grenville , and thus removing the
sole ground upon which these Noble Lords objected to the accept-
ance of office. Not only, however, did Sheridan endeavour to dis-
suade the Noble Vice-Chamberlain from resigning , but , with an
unfairness of dealing which admits, I own, of no vindication, he
withheld from the two leaders of Opposition the intelligence Urns'
meant to be conveyed to them ; and , when questioned by Mr. Tier-
ney as to the rumoured intentions of the Household to resign , of-
fered to bet five hundred guineas that there was no such step in
contemplation.
In this conduct , which he made but a feeble attempt to explain ,
and which I consider as the only indefensible part of his whole
public life , he was , in some degree , no doubt , influenced by per-
sonal feelings against the two Noble Lords , whom his want of fair-
ness on the occasion was so well calculated to thwart and embarrass.
But the main motive of the whole proceeding is to be found in his
devoted deference to what he knew to be the wishes and feelings of
that Personage , who had become now, more than ever, the main-
spring of all his movements, — whose spell over him, in this in-
stance , was too strong for even his sense of character ; and to whom
he might well have applied the words of one of his own beautiful
songs —
•' Frieuds , fortune ,fame itself 'I'd lose ,
To gain one smile from thee ! "
So fatal . too often , are Royal friendships , whose attraction , like
the loadstone-rock in Eastern fable , that drew the nails out of the
luckless ships that came near it, steals gradually away the strength
by which character is held together, till , at last , it loosens at all
points , and falls to pieces , a wreck !
In proof of the fettering influence under which he acted on this
occasion , we find him , in one of his evasive attempts- at vindication,
suppressing . from delicacy to his Royal Master, a circumstance
bF R. B. SHERIDAN. io7
which, if mentioned, would have redounded considerably to his
own credit. After mentioning that the Regent had " asked his opi-
nion with respect to the negotiations that were going on ," he adds ,
" I gave him my opinion , and I most devoutly wish that that opi-
nion could be published to the world , that it might serve to shame
those who now belie me/'
The following is the fact to which these expressions allude. When
the Prince-Regent , on the death of Mr. Perceval, entrusted to Lord
Wcllesley the task of forming an Administration , it appears that
His Royal Highness had signified either his intention or wish to
exclude a certain Noble Earl from the arrangements to be made
under that comjnission. On learning this, Sheridan not only ex-
pressed strongly his opinion against such a step , but having , after-
wards, reason to fear that the freedom with which he spoke on the
subject had been displeasing to the Regent , he addressed a letter to
that Illustrious Person (a copy of which I have in my possession),
in which , after praising the " wisdom and magnanimity" displayed
by His Royal Highness , in confiding to Lord Wellesley the powers
that had just been entrusted to him , he repeated his opinion , that
any " proscription" of the Noble Earl in question would be '; a pro-
ceeding equally derogatory to the estimation of His Royal Highness^
personal dignity and the security of his political power;"— adding,
that the advice , which he took the liberty of giving against such a
step, did not proceed "from any peculiar partiality to the Noble
Earl, or to many of those .with whom he was allied; but was
founded on what he considered lobe best for His Royal Highness's
honour and interest, and for the general interests of the coun-
try."
The letter (in alluding to the displeasure which he feared he had
incurred by venturing this opinion) concludes thus : —
" Junius said in a public letter of his, addressed to Your Ro\al Father,
' the fate that made you a King forbad your having a friend.' I deny his
proposition , as a general maxim— I am confident that Your Royal High-
ness possesses qualities to win and secure to you the attachment and
devotion of private friendship, in spile of your being a Sovereign. At least
J feel that I am entitled to make this declaration as far as relates to my-
self—and I do it under the assured conviction that you will never require
from me any proof of that attachment and devotion inconsistent with the
r'car and honourable independence of mind and conduct, which consti-
tute my sole value as a public man, and which have hitherto been my
l>cst re-commendation to your gracious favour, confidence, and pro-
icction."
It is to be regretted that while by this wise advice he helped to
His Royal Master from the invidious ///i/wara/ice of acting
i58 MKMO1RS
upon a principle of exclusion , he should , by his private manage-
ment afterwards, have but too well contrived to secure to him all
the advantage of that principle in reality.
The political career of Sheridan was now drawing fast to a close.
He spoke but upon two or three other occasions during the Session ;
and among the last sentences uttered by him in the House were the
following ; — which, as calculated to leave a sweeter flavour on the
memory, at parting , than those questionable transactions that have
just been related , 1 have great pleasure in citing : —
" My objection to the present Ministry is, that they are avowedly ar-
rayed and embodied against a principle , — that of concession to the Catho-
lics of Ireland,— which I think, and must always think , essential to the
safety of this empire. I will nover give my vote to any Administration that
opposes the question of Catholic Emancipation. 1 will not consent to
i-cceive a furlough upon that particular question , even though a Ministry
were carrying every other that I wished. In fine, I think the situation of
Ireland a paramount consideration. If they were to be the last words I
should ever utter in tb is House, I should say, 'Be just to Ireland , as
you value your own honour ; — be just to Ireland, as you value your own
peace.'"
His very last words in Parliament, on his own motion relative to
the Overtures of Peace from France, were as follow : —
" Yet, after the general subjugation and ruin of Europe, should there
ever exist an independent historian to record the awful events that pro-
duced this universal calamity, lot that historian have to say, — 'Great
Britain fell, and with her fell all the best securities for the charities of
human life, for the power and honour, the fame, the glory, and the
liberties, not only of herself, but of the whole civilised world.'"
Tn the month of September following , Parliament was dissolved ;
and presuming upon the encouragement which he had received
from some of his Stafford friends, he again tried bis chance of elec-
tion for that borough , but without success. This failure he himself
imputed, as will be seen by the following letter, to the refusal of
Mr. Whitbread to advance him 2000/. out of the sum due to him by
the Committee for his share of the property : —
" DEAR WHITBREAD , Cook's Hotel, Nov. i , 181?..
" I was misled to expect you in town the beginning of last week , luil.
being positively assured that you will arrive to-morrow, I have declined
accompanying Hester into Hampshire as I intended, and she has gone
to-day without me; but I must leave town to join her as soon at I can.
We must have some serious, but yet, I hope, friendly conversation res-
pecting my unsettled claims on the Drurv-Lane Theatre Corporation. A
concluding paragraph , in one of your last letters to Burgess , which be
thought himself justified in showing me, leads me to believe that it is
Of R. B. SHERIDAN. 569
not your object to distress or destroy me. On the subject of your refusing;
to advance to me the voool. I applied for to take with me to Stafford, on I
of the large sum confessedly due to me, ( unless I signed some paper con-
taining I know not what , and which you presented to my breast like a
cocked pistol on the last day I saw you,) I will not dwell. This, and this
alone, lost me my election. You deceive yourself if you give credit to any
other causes, which the pride of my friends chose to attribute our failure
to , rather than confess our poverty. I do not mean now to expostulate
\\i\\\ you , much less to reproach you ; but sure I am that when you con-
template the positive injustice of refusing me the accommodation I re-
quired, and the irreparable injury that refusal has cast on me, overturn-
ing, probably, all the honour and independence of what remains of my
political life, you will deeply reproach }rourself.
"I shall make an application to the Committee, when I hear you have
appointed one, for the assistance which most pressing circumstances now
compel me to call for; and all I desire is through a sincere wish that our
friendship may not be interrupted, that the answer to that application
may proceed from a bond fide. Committee, with their signatures , testifying
their decision.
"I am, yet,
"Yours very sincerely,
" S. Whitbi-ead, Esq. " R. B. SHERIDAN."
Notwithstanding the angry feeling which is expressed in this let-
ter, and which the slate of poor Sheridan's mind, goaded as he was
now by distress and disappointment, may well excuse, it will be
seen by the following letter from Whitbread , written on the very
eve of the elections in September, that there was no want of incli-
nation, on the part of this honourable and excellent man, to afford
assistance to his friend , — but that the duties of the perplexing trust
which lie had undertaken rendered such irregular advances as Slrcri-
daa required impossible : —
"Mv DEAR SHERIDAN,
" We will not enter into details, although you are quite mistaken in
them. You know how happy I shall be to propose to the Committee to
agree to any thing practicable; and you may make all practicable, if you
will have resolution to look at the state of the account between you and
the Committee, and agree to the mode of its liquidation.
" You will recollect the 5ooo/. pledged to Peter Moore to answer de-
mands; the certificates given to Giblet, Ker, Ironmonger, Cross, and
Hirdle, five each at your request; the engagements given to Ellis and
myself, and the arrears to the Linley family. All this taken into consi-
deration will leave a large balance still payable to you. Still there are
upon that balance the claims upon you by Shaw, Taylor, andGrubb, for
all of which you have ottered to leave the whole of your compensation ii»
my bands, to abide the issue of arbitration.
" This may be managed by your agreeing to take a considerable por-
iCO MEMOIRS
lion of your balance in bonds, leaving those bonds in trust toans\ver the
events.
" I shall be in town on Monday to the Committee, and will be pre-
pared with a sketch of the state of your account with the Committee,
and with the mode in which I think it would be prudent for you and
them to adjust it; which if you will agree to, and direct the conveyance
to be made forthwith, I will undertake to propose the advance of money
you wish. But without a clear arrangement, as a justification , nothing
can be done.
" I shall be in Dover-Street at nine o'clock, and be there and in Drurv-
Lane all day. The Queen comes , but the day is not fixed. The election
will occupy me after Monday. After that is over, I hope we shall see you.
" Yours very truly,
" Soutliill, Sept. 25. 181-1. " S. WHITBRKAD."
The feeling entertained by Sheridan towards the Committee had
already been strongly manifested this year by the manner in which
Mrs. Sheridan received the Resolution passed by them, offering her
the use of a box in the new Theatre. The notes of Whitbread to
Mrs. Sheridan on this subject prove how anxious he was to conci-
liate the wounded feelings of his friend : —
•" .Ml' DEAR ESTJIER ,
" 1 have delayed sending the enclosed Resolution of the Drury-Lane
Committee to you, because I had hoped to have found a moment to have
called upon you, and to have delivered it into your hands. But I see no
chance of that , and therefore literally obey my instructions in writing
to you.
" I had great pleasure in proposing the Resolution, which was cor-
dially and unanimously adopted. I had it always in contemplation, — but
to have proposed it earlier would have been improper. I hope you will
derive much amusement from your visits to the Theatre , and that you
and all of your name will ultimately be pleased with what has been done.
1 have just had a most satisfactory letter from Tom Sheridan.
" 1 am ,
" My dear Esther,
" Affectionately yours ,
" Dover-Street , July k- 1812 "SAMUEL WIHTBHEAD. '
" MY DEAR ESTHER,
" It has been a great mortification and disappointment to me, to have
met tlm Committee twice , since the oiler of the use of a box at the ne\v
Theatre was made to you , and that I have not had to report the slightest
acknowledgement from you in return.
" The Committee meet again to-morrow, and after that there will be
no meeting for some time. If 1 shall be compelled to return the same
blank answer I have hitherto done, the inference drawn will naturally be,
that what was designed by myself, who moved it, and by those who
voted it, as a gratifying mark ol attention to Sheridan through you, (as
OF H 15. SHKIUDAN. 4f,»
the most gratifying mode of convening it,) has, for sonic unaccountable
reason, been mistaken and is declined.
" But I shall be glad to know before to-morrow what is your deter-
mination on the subject.
" lam, dear Esther,
" Affectionately yours ,
u Dover- Street , July n. 1812. S. WHITBBEAD."
The failure of Sheridan at Stafford completed his ruin. He was
now excluded both from the Theatre and from Parliament : — the
two anchors by which he held in life were gone , and he was left a
lonely and helpless wreck upon the waters. The Prince Regent of-
fered to bring him into Parliament-, but the thought of returning to
that scene of his triumphs and his freedom with the Royal owners
mark , as it were , upon him , was more than he could bear — and
he declined the offer. Indeed , miserable and insecure as his life was
now, when we consider the public humiliations to which he would
have been exposed , between his ancient pledge to Whiggism and
his attachment and gratitude to Royalty, it is not wonderful that he
should have preferred even the alternative of arrests and imprison-
ments , to the risk of bringing upon his political name any further
tarnish in such a struggle. Neither could his talents have much
longer continued to do themselves justice, amid the pressure of
such cares , and the increased indulgence of habits which , as is
usual, gained upon him as all other indulgences vanished. The an-
cients , we are told , by a significant device , inscribed on the
wreaths they wore at banquets the name-of Minerva. Unfortunately,
from the festal wreath of Sheridan this name was now but loo often
effaced ; and the same charm , that once had served to give a quicker
flow to thought, was now employed to muddy the stream, as it
became painful to contemplate what was at the bottom of it. By ex-
clusion, therefore, from Parliament, he was, perhaps, seasonably
saved from affording to that Folly , which loves the martyrdom of
Fame '," the spectacle of a greatmind, not only surviving itself, butr
like the champion in Berni , continuing the combat after life is
gone : —
" Anduva combattendo , ed era morto."
In private society, however, he could, even now, (before the Ru-
bicon of the cup was passed , ) fully justify his high reputation for
agrceableness and wit ; and a day which it was my good fortune to
M And Folly loves the martyrdom of Fame."
1 1lls fine line is in Lord Byron's Monody to his memory. There is another line.
equally true and tonching, where, alluding to the irregularities of tho latter pare
of Sheridan's life, he says,—
" And what '<> them sroiiiM \ir<- ini^lil lir but woe."
462 MEMOIRS
spend with him , at Hie table of Mr. Rogers, has too many mournful,
as well as pleasant, associations connected with it, to be easily for-
gotten by the survivors of the party. The company consisted but of
Mr. Rogers himself, Lord Byron , Mr. Sheridan , and the writer of
this Memoir. Sheridan knew the admiration his audience fell for him;
the presence of the young poet in particular, seemed to bring back
his own youth and wit •, and the details he gave of his early life were
not less interesting and animating to himself than delightful to us.
11 was in the course or this evening that, describing to us the poem
which Mr. Whi thread had written and sent in, among the other Ad-
dresses for the opening of Drury-Lanc , and which , like the rest ,
lurned chiefly on allusions to the Phenix, he said, — "But Whitbread
made more of this bird than any of them : — he entered into parti-
culars, and described its wings , beak, tail, etc. ; in short , it was a
Poulterer's description of a Phenix ! "
The following extract from a Diary in my possession , kept by
Lord Byron during six months of his residence in London, 1812-13,
will show the admiration which this great and generous spirit felt
for Sheridan : —
" Saturday, December 18. i8i5.
" Lord Holland told me a curious piece of sentimentality in Sheridan.
The other night we were all delivering our respective and various opi-
nions on him and other ' homines marquans,' and mine was this : —
Whatever Sheridan has done or chosen to do has been, par excellence,
always the best of its kind. He has written the best comedy ( School for
Scandal) the best opera, (The Duenna— in my mind far before that
St. Giles's lampoon, The Beggar's Opera , ) the best farce, ( The Critic —
it is only too good for an after-piece, ) and the best Address, ( Monologue
on Garrick,)— and , to crown all, delivered the very best oration (the
famous Begum Speech ) ever conceived or heard in this country. 'Some-
body told Sheridan this the next day, and, on hearing it, he hurst into
tears!— Poor Brinsley ! If they were tears of pleasure, I would rather
have said those few but sincere words, than have written the Iliad, or
made his own celebrated Philippic. INay, his own comedy never gratified
me more than to hear that he had derived a moment's gratification from
any praise of mine— humble as it must appear to ' my elders and my
betters.' "
The distresses of Sheridan now increased every day, and through
the short remainder of his life it is a melancholy task to follow him.
The sum arising from the sale of his theatrical properly was soon
exhausted by the various claims upon it, and he was driven to part
with all that he most valued , to satisfy further demands and provide
for the subsistence of the day. Those books which. , as I have al-
ready mentioned , were presented to him by various friends . now
OF R. B. SHERIDAN. 463
Mood , in their splendid bindings ' , on the shelves of the pawnbroker.
The handsome cup, given him by the electors of Stafford, shared
Ihe same fate. Three or four fine pictures by Gainsborough , and
one by Morland, were sold for little more than five hundred pounds3 ;
and even the precious portrait of his first wife 3 by Reynolds, though
not actually sold during his life , vanished away from his eyes into
other hands.
One of the most humiliating trials of his pride was yet to come.
I n Ihe spring of this year he was arrested and carried to a spunging- V
house, where he remained two or three days. This abode , from
which the following painful letter lo Whitbread was written, formed
a sad contrast lo those Princely halls , of which he had so lately been
the most brilliant and favoured guest , and which were possibly , at
thai very moment, lighted up and crowded with gay company, un-
mindful of him within those prison walls :
" Tooke's Court, Cursitor- Street, Thursday, past two.
" I have done every thing in my power with the solicitors , White and
Founes, to obtain my release, by substituting a better security for them
than their detaining me— but in vain.
" Whitbread, putting all false professions of friendship and feeling out
of the question, you have no right to keep me here!— for it. is in truth
your act — if you bad not forcibly withheld from me the twelve thousand
pounds, in consequence of a threatening letter from a miserable swindler,
whose claim YOU in particular knew to be a lie, I should at least have
been out of the reach of this state of miserable insult , — for that, and that
only lost me my seat in Parliament. And I assert that you cannot find a
lawyer in the land , that is not either a natural-born fool or a corrupted
scoundrel, wbo will not declare tbat your conduct in this respect was
neither warrantable or legal— but let tbat passer the present.
1 In most of them, too, were the names of the givers. The delicacy with which
Mr. Harrison of Wardour-Street (the pawnbroker with whom the books and the
cup were deposited) behaved, after the death of Mr. Sheridan, deserves to be
mentioned with prai.se. Instead of availing himself of the public feeling at that
moment, by submitting these precious relics to the competition of a sale, he
privately communicated to the family and one or two friends of Sheridan the clr-
cumstauctj of his having such articles in his hands, and demanded nothing more
than luesnm regularly due on them.— The Stafford cup is in the possession of
Mr. Charles Sheridan.
a In the following extract from a note to his solicitor, he refers to these pic-
tures :
**DE\H BURGESS,
" I am perfectly satisfied with your account j — nolhing can be more clear or
fair, or more disinterested on your part; — but I mnst grieve to think that jive
or six hundred pounds for my poor pictures are added to the expenditure. Ho* -
ever, we shall come through ! "
1 As Saint Cecilia. The portrait of Mrs. Sheridan at Knowle, though less ideal
than that of Sir Joshua, is (for this very reason, perhaps, as bearing a closer
resemblance to the original ,} still more beantiful.
4fi» MEMOIRS
"Independently of the iooo/. ignorantly withheld from meonthednv
of considering my last claim , I require of you to answer the draft 1 send
herewith on the part of the Committee , pledging myself to prove to
them on the first day I can personally meet them , that there are still
thousands and thousands due to. me, both legally and equitably, from
the Theatre. My word ought to be taken on this subject; and you may
produce to them this document , if one among them could think that ,
under all the circumstances, your conduct required a justification. O
God ! with what mad conGdence have I trusted your word — I ask jus-
tice from you, and no boon. I enclosed you yesterday three different secu-
rities, which, had you been disposed to have acted even as a private
friend, would have made it certain that you might have done so without
the smallest risk. These you discreetly offered to put into the fire, when
you found the object of your humane visit satisfied by seeing me safe in
prison.
" 1 shall only add , that, I think , if I know myself, had our lots been
reversed , and I had seen you in my situation , and had left Lady E. in
that of my wife , I would have risked 6ooZ. rather than have left you so —
although I had been in no way accessary in bringing you into that con-
dition.
" S. Wlutbrcad, Esq. " R. B. SHERIDAN."
Even in this situation the sanguineness of his disposition did nol
desert him ; for he was found by Mr. Whilbread, on his visit to the
spunging-house , confidently calculating on the representation for
Westminster , in which proceedings relative to Lord Cochrane at
that moment promised a vacancy. On his return home, however,
to Mrs. Sheridan ( some arrangements having been made by
Whitbrcad for his release,) all his fortitude forsook him, and he
burst into a long and passionate fit of weeping at the profanation, as
he termed it, which his person had fuffered.
He had for some months had a feeling that his life was near its
close ; and I find the following touching passage in a letter from
him to Mrs. Sheridan , after one of those differences which will
sometimes occur between the most affectionate companions , and
which , possibly, a remonstrance on his irregularities and want of
caxe of himself occasioned : — " Never again let one harsh word
pass between us during the period , which may not perhaps be
long , that we are in this world together, and life , however clouded
to me , is mutually spared to us. I have expressed this same senti-
ment to my son , in a letter I wrote to him a few days since, and I
had his answer — a most affecting one , and , I am sure , very sin-
cere— and have since cordially embraced him. Don't imagine that
I am expressing an interesting apprehension about myself which I
do not feel."
Though the new Theatre ofDury-Lanehad now been three years
builL his feelings had never allowed him to set his fool within its
OF R. B. SHERIDAN. 466
walls. About this time, however, he was persuaded by his friend,
Lord Essex , to dine with him , and go in the evening to His Lord-
ship's box , to see Kean. Once there, the " genius loci " seems to
have regained its influence over him ; for, on missing him from the
box, between the Acts , Lord Essex, who feared that he had left the
House, hastened out to enquire, and, to his great satisfaction,
found him installed in the Green-room , with all the actors around
him , welcoming him back to the old region of his glory, with a sort
of fiJial cordiality. Wine was immediately ordered , and a bumper to
the health of Mr. Sheridan was drank by all present, with the ex-
pression of many a hearty wish that he would often , very often ,
re-appear among them. This scene , as was natural , exhilarated his
spirits, and, on parting with Lord Essex that night, at his own
door in Saville-Row , he said triumphantly that the world would
soon hear of him , for the Duke of Norfolk was about to bring him
into Parliament. This , it appears was actually the case •, but Death
stood near as he spoke. In a few days after, his last fatal illness
began.
Amid all the distresses of these latter years of his life, he appears
but rarely to have had recourse to pecuniary assistance from friends.
3Ir. Peter Moore, Mr. Ironmonger, and one or two others, who
did more for the comfort of his decline than any of his high and
noble associates, concur in stating that, except for such an occa-
sional trifle as his coach-hire ; he was by no means, as has been some-
limes asserted , in the habit of borrowing. One instance , however,
where he laid himself under this sort of obligation , deserves to be
mentioned. Soon after the return of Mr. Canning from Lisbon , a
letter was put into his hands, in the House of Commons, which
proved to be a request from his old friend Sheridan , then lying ill
in bed, that he would oblige him with the loan of a hundred pounds.
It is unnecesssary to say that the request was promptly and feelingly
complied with-, — and if the pupil has ever regretted leaving the
politics of his master, it was not at that moment, at least, such a
feeling was likely to present itself.
There are , in the possession of a friend of Sheridan , copies of a
correspondence in which he was engaged this year with two noble
Lords and the confidential agent of an illustrious Personage , upon
a subject , as it appears , of the utmost delicacy and importance. The
letters of Sheridan, it is said, (for I have not seen them,) though of
too secret and confidential a nature to meet the public eye , not only
prove the great confidence reposed in him by the parties concerned ,
but show the clearness and manliness of mind which he could still
command, under the pressure of all that was most trying to human
intellect.
"
i«ti MEMOIRS
The disorder, with which he was now attacked , arose from a
diseased state of the stomach , brought on partly by irregular living,
and partly by the harassing anxieties that had , for so many years ,
without intermission, beset him. His powers of digestion grew
every day worse, till he was at length unable to retain any susten-
ance. Notwithstanding this , however, his strength seemed to be but
little broken, and his pulse remained for some time, strong and
regular. Had he taken, indeed, but ordinary care of himself through
life , the robust conformation of his frame , and particularly, as I
have heard his physician remark , the peculiar width and capacious-
ness of his chest , seemed to mark him out for a long course of
healthy existence, In general Nature appears to have a prodigal de-
light in inclosing her costliest essences in the most frail and perish-
able vessels : — but Sheridan was a signal exception to this remark ;
for, with a spirit so " finely touched," he combined all the robust-
ness of the most uninspired clay,
Mrs. Sheridan was, at first, not aware of his danger; but Dr.
Bain — whose.skill was now, as it ever had been , disinterestedly at
the service of his friend, ' — thought it right to communicate to her
the apprehensions that lie felt. From that moment , her attentions to
the sufferer never ceased day or night ; and, though drooping her-
self witli an illness that did not leave her long behind him, she
watched over his every word and wish , with unremitting anxiety,
to the last.
Connected, no doubt, with the disorganisation of his stomach
was an abscess , from which , though distressingly situated , he
1 A letter from Sheridan to this amiable man, (of which I know not the date,)
written in reference to a caution which he had given Mrs. Sheridan , against sleep-
ing in the same bed with a lady who was consumptive, expresses feelings creditable
;tlike to the writer and his physician : —
"MY DEAR SIR, July 31.
" The caution you recommend proceeds from that attentive kindness which
Hester always receives from you, and upon which I place the greatest reliance for
her safety. I so entirely agree with your apprehensions on the subject, that I
think it was very giddy in me not to have been struck with them when she first
mentioned having slept with her friend. Nothing can abate my love for her: and
the manner in which you apply the interest yon take in her happiness, and direct
the influence you possesc in her mind, render you, beyond comparison, the
person I feel most obliged to npon earth. I take this opportunity of saying tliis
upon paper, because it is a subject on which I always find it difficult to speak.
"Wilh respect to that part of your note in which yon express such friendly
partiality, as to my parliamentary conduct, I need not' add that there is no man
whose good opinion can be more flattering to me.
•' I am ever, my dear Rain ,
" Your sincere and obliged
" K.. R. SHERIIIAN
OF R. B. SHERIDAN. 4G7
does not appear to have suffered much pain. In the spring of this
year, however, he was obliged to confine himself, almost entirely,
to his bed. Being expected to attend the St. Patrick's Dinner, on the
17th of March, he wrote a letter to the Duke of Kent, who was
President , alleging severe indisposition as the cause of his absence.
The contents of this letter were communicated to the company ,
and produced , as appears by the following note from the Duke of
Kent, a strong sensation : — n U*rf
" Kensington Palace , March 27, 1816.
" Mv DEAR SHERIDAS,
" I have been so hurried ever since St. Patrick's day, as to be unable
earlier to thank you for your kind letter, which I received while presid-
ing at the festive board ; but I can assure you , I was not unmindful of it
then, but announced the afflicting cause of your absence to tbe company,
who expressed, in a manner that could not be misunderstood, their con-
tinued affection for tbe writer of it. It now only remains for me to assure
you, that I appreciate as I ought tbe sentiments of attachment it con-
tains for me, and which will ever be most cordially returned by him,
who is with tbe most friendly regard , my dear Sheridan,
" Yours faithfully,
" The Right Hon. R. B. Sheridan. " EDWARD."
The following letter to him af this time from his elder sister will
be read with interest : —
'* MY DEAR BROTHER , Dublin, May 9, 1816.
" I am very , very sorry you are ill ; but I trust in God your naturally
strong constitution will retrieve all , and that I shall soon have tbe satis-
faction of hearing that you are in a fair way of recovery. I well know tbe
nature of your complaint, that it is extremely painful, but if properly
treated, and no doubt you have the best advice, not dangerous. I know
a lady now past seventy-four, who many years since was attacked with a
similar complaint, and is now as well as most persons of her time of life.
"Where poulticing is necessary , I have known oatmeal used with the best
effect. Forgive, dear brother , tbis officious zeal. Your son Thomas told
me be felt obliged to me for not prescribing for him. I did not, because
in his case I thought it would be ineffectual; in yours I have reason to
bope the contrary. I am very glad to hear of tbe good effect change of
climate has made in him : — I took a great liking to him ; there was some-
thing kind in bis manner .that won upon my affections. Of your son
diaries I hear tbe most delightful accounts : — that be has an excellent
and cultivated understanding, and a heart as good. May be be a blessing
to you, and a compensation for much you have endured! That I do not
know bim, that I have nbt seen you, (so early and so long the object of
my affection , ) for so many years, lias not been my fault ; but I have ever
considered it as a drawback upon a situation not otherwise unfortunate;
for , to use tbe words of Goldsmith, I have endeavoured to " draw upon
4«8 MEMOIRS
content for the deficiencies of fortune;" and truly I liave had some em-
ployment in that way , for . considerable have been our worldly disap-
pointments. But those arc not the worst evils of life, and we have good
children, which is its first blessing. I have often told you my son Tom
bore a strong resemblance to you , when I loved you preferably to any
thing the world contained. This, which was the case with him in child-
hood and early youth, is still so in mature years. In character of mind ,
too, he is very like you, though education and situation have made a
qreat difference. At that period of existence, when the temper, moials,
and propensities are formed, Tom had a mother who watched over his
health, his well-being, and every part of education in which a female
could be useful. You had lost a mother who would have cherished yon .
whose talents you inherited, who would have softened the asperity ol
our father's temper, and probably have prevented his unaccountable par-
tialities. You have always shown a noble independence of spirit, that the
pecuniary difficulties you often bad to encounter could not induce you to
forego. As a public man, you have been, like the motto of the Lefann
family , " Sine, macula ; " and I am persuaded had you not too early been
thrown upon the world, and alienated from your family, you would have
been equally good as a private character. My son is eminently so. *
" Do, dear brother, send me one line to tell me you are better, and
believe me, most affectionately,
" Yours,
'' ALICIA LEFANU."
While death was thus gaining fast on Sheridan , the miseries of
his life were thickening round him also ; nor did the lasl corner, in
which he now lay down to die , afford him any asylum from the
clamours ofhis legal pursuers. Writs and executions came in rapid
succession , and bailiffs at length gained possession of his house.
It was about the beginning of May that Lord Holland , on being
informed by Mr. Rogers ( who was one of the very few that watched
the going out of this great light with interest) of the dreary situa-
tion in which his old friend was lying, paid him a visit one evening,
in company with Mr. Rogers, and by the cordiality, suavity, and
cheerfulness ofhis conversation , shed a charm round thai chamber
of sickness , which , perhaps , no other voice but his own could
have imparted.
Sheridan was , I believe , sincerely attached jo Lord Holland , in
whom he saw transmitted the same fine qualities, both of mind and
heart, which , notwithstanding occasional appearances to the con-
trary, he had never ceased to love and admire in his great relative ;
— the same ardour for Right and impatience of Wrong — the same
mixture of wisdom and simplicity , so tempering each other, as to
make the simplicity refined and the wisdom unaffected — the same
gentle magnanimity of spirit, intolerant only -of tyranny and injus-
tice— and, in addition to all this, a range and vivacity of conversa-
OF R. B. SHERIDAN. 469
lion, entirely his own, which leaves no subject untouched or
unadorned , bul is (to borrow a fancy of Dryden) , "as the Morn-
ing of the Mind," bringing new objects and images successively
into view, and scattering its own fresh light over all. Such a visit,
therefore, could not fail to be soothing and gratifying to Sheridan ;
and , on parting, both Lord Holland and Mr. Rogers comforted him
w ilh the assurance , that some steps should be taken to ward off the
immediate evils that he dreaded.
An evening or two after (Wednesday, May 15.) I was with Mr.
Ilogers , when, on returning home, he found the following afflict-
ing note upon his table : —
" Savilk-Row.
" I find things settled so that i5o/. will remove all difficulty. I am abso-
lutely undone and broken-hearted. I shall negotiate for the Plays suc-
ressfully in the course of a week, when all shall be returned. I have
desired Fairbrother to get back the Guarantee for thirty.
"They arc going to put the carpets out of window, and break into
•Mrs. S.'s room and lake me— for God's sake let me see you.
"R. B.S."-
It was too late to do any thing when this note was received ,
being then between twelve and one at night ; but Mr. Rogers and
I walked down to Saville-Row together, to assure ourselves that
the threatened arrest had not yet been put in execution. A servant
spoke to us out of the area , and said that all was safe for the night ,
bul that it was intended , in pursuance of this new proceeding, to
paste bills over the front of the house next day.
On the following morning I was early with Mr. Rogers , and
willingly undertook to be the bearer of a draft for 150/. * to Saville-
Row. I found Mr. Sheridan good-natured and cordial as ever;
and , though he was then within a few weeks of his death , his voice
had not lost its fulness or strength , nor was that lustre, for which
his eyes were so remarkable , diminished. He showed , too , his
usual sanguineness of disposition in speaking of the price that he
expected for his Dramatic Works , and of the certainly he fell of
being able to arrange all his affairs, if his complaint would but
suffer him to leave his bed.
In the following month, his powers began rapidly to fail him;
— his stomach was completely worn out , and could no longer bear
any kind of sustenance. During the whole of this time, as far as 1
can learn, it does not appear that (with the exceptions 1 have
1 Lord Holland afterward* insisted upon paying the half of this sum.— wlikh
was noi the fiist of llie same amount that my liberal friend, Mr. Rogers, had
.ath. meed for Sheridan.
470 MEMOIRS
mentioned) any one of his Noble or Kojal friends ever called af.
his door, or even sent to enquire after him !
About this period Doctor Bain received the following note from
Mr. Vaughan : —
"Mr DEAR SIR,
" An apology in a case of humanity is scarcely necessar\ , besides I
have the honor of a slight acquaintance with you. A friend of mine,
hearing of our friend Sheridan's forlorn situation, and that he has neither
money or credit for a few comforts , has employed me to convey a small
sum for his use , through such channel as I think right. I can devise none
better than through you. If I had had the good fortune to have .seen you ,
I should have left for this purpose a draft for 5o/. Perhaps as much more
might he had if it will he conducive to a good end-ofcour.se you must
feel it is not for the purpose of satisfying troublesome people. I will say
more to you if you will do me the honor of a call in your way to Saville-
Street to-morrow. I am a mere agent.
" I am ,
" My dear Sir,
" Most truly yours ,
" u5- Grafton Street. " JOHN TAYLOR VAUGHAN.
" If I should not see you before twelve, I will come through the passage
In his interview with Doctor Bain , Mr. Vaughan stated , that the
sum thus placed at his disposal was , in all , 200/. 2 -, and the propo-
sition being submitted to Mrs. Sheridan , that lady, after consulting
with some of her relatives, returned for answer that, as there was
a sufficiency of means to provide all that was necessary for her
husband's comfort , as weli as her own , she begged leave to decline
the offer.
Mr. Vaughan always said, that the donation , thus meant to be
doled out, came from a Royal hand; — but this is hardly credible.
It would be .safer, perhaps , to let the suspicion rest upon that gentle-
man's memory, of having indulged his own benevolent disposition
in this disguise , than to suppose it possible thai so scanty and reluc-
tant a benefaction was the sole mark of attention accorded by a
"• gracious Prince and Master* to the last death-bed wants of one
of the most accomplished and faithful servants that Royalty ever
yet raised or ruined by its smiles. When the philosopher Anaxago-
ras lay dying for want of sustenance , his great pupil , Pericles ,
1 Mr. Vanghan did not give Doctor Bain to understand that he was authorised
lo go beyond the 200/. ; but, iu a conversation which I had with him a year or
two after, in contemplation of this Memoir, he told me that a farther supply was
iu tended.
' See Sheridan's Letter, vol. ii, page i29.
OF R. B. SHE&IDAN. 471
sent him a sum of money. t; Take it back," said Ariaxagoras — "if
he wished lo keep the lamp alive , he ought to have administered
the oil before!"
In the mean lime , the clamours and incursions of creditors
increased. A sheriff's officer at length arrested the dying man in
his bed , and was about lo carry him off, in his blankets , lo a spung-
ing-house, when Doctor Bain interfered — and, by threatening the
officer wilh the responsibilily he must incur, if, as was but too
probable, his prisoner should expire on the way, averted this
outrage.
About the middle of June, the altenlion and sympathy of the Pub-
lic were, for the first time, awakened lo the desolate situation of
Sheridan , fay an article that appeared in Ihe Morning Post , —
\vritten , as I undersland , by a genlleman , who, though on no very
cordial terms wilh him , forgot every other feeling in a generous
pily for his fale , and in honesl indignation against those who now
deserted him. " Oh delay not,1' said Ihe writer, without naming the
person to whom he alluded — " delay not to draw aside the curtain
\\ilhin which that proud spiril hides ils sufferings." He Ihen adds,
with a striking anticipation of what afterwards happened : — "Prefer
ministering in the chamber of sickness to mustering at
' The splendid sorrows that adorn the hearse ; '
1 say, Life and Succour against Westminster -Abbey and a Fu-
neral ! "
This article produced a slrong and general sensation , and was
reprinted in the same paper Ihe following day. Its effect, too, was
soon visible in the calls made at Sheridan's door, and in, the appear-
ance of such names as the Duke of York, the Duke of Argyle, etc.,
among the visitors. Bui il was now loo lale ;— the spirit , that these
unavailing tributes might once have comforted , w as now fast losing
the consciousness of every tiling earthly, but pain. After a succes-
sion of shivering fits , he fell into a stale of exhauslion , in which he
continued , wilh bul few more signs of suffering , lill his death. A
day or two before that evenl , the Bishop of London read prayers by
his bedside ; and on Sunday, the seventh of July, in the sixty-fifth
year of his age, he died.
On the following Saturday the Funeral look place; — his remains
having been previously removed from Savillc-Row lo the house of
his friend , Mr. Peter Moore , in Great George-Street, Westminster .
From thence , at one o'clock , the procession moved on fool to Ihe
Abbey, where, in Ihe only spot in Poet's Corner that remained un-
"<•< upicd , the body was interred ; and Ihe following simple inscrip-
tion marks ils resting-place : —
47? MEMOIRS
" RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN.
BORN , 1751 ,
DIED, 7th JULY, 1816.
THIS MARBLE IS THE TRIBUTE OF AN ATTACHED
FRIEND ,
PETER MOORE."
Seldom has there been seen such an array of rank as graced this
funeral '. The Pall-bearers were the Duke of Bedford , the Earl of
Lauderdale , Earl Mulgrave , the Lord Bishop of London , Lord
Holland , and Lord Spencer. Among the mourners were His Royal
Highness the Duke of York , His Royal Highness the Duke of Sus-
sex , the Duke of Argyle , the Marquisses of Anglesea and Tavistock ;
Hie Earls of Thanet, Jersey, Harrington, Besborough, Mexborough,
llosslyn, and Yarmouth ; Lords George Cavendish and Robert Spen-
cer ; Viscounts Sidmouth, Granville, and Duncannon ; Lords Ri-
\ors, Erskine. and Lynedoch -, the Lord Mayor; Right Hon. G.
Canning and W. W. Pole , etc., etc. '.
Where were they all , these Royal and Noble persons , who now
crowded to "partake the gale" of Sheridan's glory — where were
they all , while any life remained in him ? Where were they all, but
a few weeks before , when their interposition might have saved his
heart from breaking, — or when the zeal , now wasted on the grave
might have soothed and comforted the death-bed? This is a subject
on which it is difficult to speak with patience. If the man was un-
worthy of the commonest offices of humanity while he lived, why
all this parade of regret and homage over his tomb?
There appeared some verses at the lime , which , however in-
temperate in their satire and careless in their style, came, evidently,
warm from the heart of the writer , and contained sentiments to
which . even in his cooler moments , he needs not hesitate to sub-
scribe : —
" Oh it sickens the heart to see bosoms so hollow ,
And friendships so false in the great and highborn; —
To think what a long line of Titles may follow
The relics of him who died, friendless and lorn!
1 Ft was well remarked by a French Journal, in contrasting the penury i>(
Sheridan's latter years with the splendour of his Funeral, that "France is tin-
place for a man of letters to live in , and England the plane for him to die in."
* In the train of all this phalanx of Dukes, Marqnisses, Earls, Visconnts,
Larons, Honourables, and Right Hononrables, Princes ot the Blood Royal, and
First Officers of the State, it was not a little interesting to see, walking numbly,
side by side, the only two men whose friendship had not waited for the call of
\anily to display itself — Dr Rain and Mr. Rogers.
OF R. B. SHERIDAN. 474
" How proud they can press to the funeral array
Of him whom they shunn'd , in his sickness and sorrow —
How bailiffs may seize his last blanket to-day,
Whose pall shall be held up by Nobles to morrow ! "
The anonymous writer thus characterises the talents of Sheri-
dan : —
" Was this, then , the fate of that high-gifted man,
The pride of the palace, the bower, and the hall —
The orator, dramatist, minstrel, — who ran
Through each mode of the lyre , and was master of all ?
'• Whose mind was an essence , compounded with art,
From the finest and best of all other men's powers; —
Who rul'd , like a wizard , the world of the heart ,
And could call up its sunshine, or draw down its showers ;•—
" Whose humour, as gay as the fire- fly's light,
Play'd round every subject , and shone as it play'd; —
Whose wit, in the combat as gentle as bright,
Ne'er carried a heart-stain away on its blade ; —
"• Whose eloquence, brightening whatever it tried,
Whether reason or fancy , the gay or the grave ,
Was as rapid, as deep, and as brilliant a tide,
As ever bore Freedom aloft on its wave ! "
Though a perusal of the foregoing pages has, I trust , sufficiently
Furnished the reader with materials out of which lo form his own
estimate of the character of Sheridan , a few general remarks may,
at parting , be allowed me — rather with a view lo convey the im-
pressions left upon myself, than with any presumptuous hope of in-
fluencing the deductions of others.
In considering the intellectual powers of this extraordinary man t
the circumstance that first strikes us is the very scanty foundation
of instruction , upon which he contrived to raise himself to such
eminence both as a writer and a politician. It is true , in the line of
authorship he pursued, erudition was not so much wanting; and
his wit , like the laurel of Caesar, was leafy enough to hide any bare-
ness in this respect. In politics , too , he had the advantage of en-
tering upon his career, at a lime when habits of business and a
knowledge of details were less looked for in public men than Ihcy
are at present , and when the House of Commons was , for various
reasons , a more open play-ground for eloquence and wit. The
great increase of public business since then , has necessarily made
a considerable change in this respect. Nol only has the lime of
the Legislature become too precious to be wasted upon the men1
gymnastics of rhetoric, but even Ihosc graces, wilh which true
OraU>ry~surrounds Tier statements, are but impatiently borne,
where Ihe statement ilself is the primary and pressing object oF
474 MEMOIRS
the hearer '. Burke, we know, was, even for his own tune, too
much addicted to what falconers would call raking , or flying wide
of his game; but there was hardly, perhaps , one among his great
contemporaries, who, if beginning his career at present, would
nol find it , in some degree , necessary to conform his style to the
taste for business and matter-of-fact that is prevalent. Mr. Pill
would be compelled to curtail the march of his sentences — Mr. Fox
would learn to repeat himself less lavishly — nor would Mr. Sheri-
dan venture to enliven a question of evidence by a long and pathetic
appeal to Filial Piety.
In addition to this change in the character and taste of the House
of Commons , which , while it has lowered the value of some of the
qualifications possessed by Sheridan , has created a demand for
others of a more useful , but less splendid kind , which his educa-
tion and habits of life would have rendered less easily attainable by
him , we must take also into account the prodigious difference pro-
duced by the general movement, at present, of the whole civilised
world towards knowledge ; — a movement which no public man ,
however great his natural talents , could now lag behind with im-
punity, and which requires nothing less than the versatile and cti-
cydopcedic powers of a Brougham to keep pace with it.
Another striking characteristic of Sheridan , as an orator and a
writer, was the great degree of labour and preparation which his
productions in both lines cost him. Of this the reader has seen some
curious proofs in the preceding pages. Though the papers left be-
hind by him have added nothing to the stock of his chefs-d'oeuvre ,
they have given us an insight into his manner of producing his
great works, which is, perhaps, the next most interesting thing to
the works themselves. Though no new star has been discovered ,
the history of the formation of those we already possess, and of the
1 The new light that has beeu thrown on Political Science may also, perhaps,
be assigned as a reason for this evident revolution in Parliamentary taste. " Truth,"
.says Lord Bacon, "is a naked and open day-light, that doth not show the
masques, and mummeries, and triumphs of the present world half so stately and
daintily as candlelights;" — and there can belittle doubt that the clearer any im-
portant truths are.made, the less controversy they will excite among fair and
rational men, and the less passion and fancy, accordingly, can eloquence infuse
into the discussion of them. Mathematics have produced no quarrels among
mankind— it is by the mysterious and the vague, that temper as well as imagina-
tion is most roused. In proof of this, while the acknowledged clearness, almost to
truism , which the leading principles of Political Science have attained , has tended
to simplify and tame down the activities of eloquence on that subject, there is
still another arena left, in the science of the Law, where the same illumination of
trnth has not yet penetrated, and where Oratory will still continue to work her
perplexing spells, till Common Sense and the plain principles of Utility shall find
their way there also to weaken them.
OF R. B. SHERIDAN. 475
gradual process by which they were brought l' firm to retain their
gathered beams ," has, as in the instance of The School for Scan-
dal , been most interestingly unfolded to us.
The same marks of labour are discoverable throughout the whole
of his Parliamentary career. He never made a speech of any mo-
ment, of which the sketch, more or less detailed, has not been
found among his papers — with the showier passages generally
written two or three times over (often without any material change
in their form ) upon small detached pieces of paper, or on cards.
To such minutiae of effect did he attend , that I have found , in
more than one instance , a memorandum made of the precise place
in 'which the words "Good God, Mr. Speaker," were to be intro-
duced. These preparatory sketches are continued down to his latest
displays ; and it is observable that when , from the increased de-
rangement of his affairs, he had no longer leisure or collecledness
enough to prepare, he ceased to speak.
The only time he could have found for this pre-arrangement of
his thoughts ( of which few, from the apparent idleness of his life ,
suspected him ) must have been during the many hours of the day
that he remained in bed, — when, frequently, while the world gave
him credit for being asleep, he was employed in laying the frame-
work of his wit and eloquence for the evening.
That this habit of premeditation was not altogether owing to a want
of quickness appears from the power and liveliness of his replies in
Parliament , and the vivacity of some of his retorts in conversation ' .
The labour, indeed , which he found necessary tor his public dis-
plays was , in a great degree , the combined effect of his ignorance
and his taste 5 — the one rendering him fearful of committing him-
self on the matter of his task , and the other making him fastidious
and hesitating as to the manner of it. I cannot help thinking , how-
ever, that there must have been also a degree of natural slowness in
the first movements of his mind upon any topic ; and that , like
1 His best bans mots are in the memory of every one. Among those less known,
perhaps, is his answer to General T— — , relative to some difference of opinion
between them on the War in Spain: — "Well, T , are yon still on your
high horse?" — "If I was on a horse before, I am upon an elephant now." —
"No, T , you were upon an ass before, and now yon are npon a ;n«/*."
Some mention having been made in his presence of a Tax npon Mile-stones,
Sheridan said , " snch a tax wonld be unconstitutional: — as they were a race that
could not meet to remonstrate."
As an instance of hi.t humour, I have been told that, in &oine country-house
ubere he was on a visit, an elderly maiden lady having set her heart on being his
companion in a walk , he excnsed himself at first on account of the badness of the
weather. Soon afterwards, however, the lady intercepted him in an attempt to
escape without her :—" Well ," she said, "it has cleared up, I see."— «• Why,
yes," he answered, " it has cleared up enough for one, but not for wo."
\16 MEMO! US
those animals which remain gazing upon their prey before they
seize it , he found it necessary to look intently at his subject for
some lime, before he was able to make the last , quick spring that
mastered it.
Among the proofs of this dependence of his fancy upon time and
thought for its development, may be mentioned his familiar letters ,
as far as their fewness enables us 16 judge. Had his wit been a
" fruit, that would fall without shaking," we should , in these com-
munications at least , find some casual windfalls of it. But, from the
want of sufficient lime to search and cull, he seems to have given
up, in despair, all thoughts of being lively in his letters,- and, ac-
cordingly, as the reader must have observed in the specimens thai
have been given , his compositions in this way are not only unenli-
vened by any excursions beyond (he bounds of mere mailer of fact,
but . from the habit or necessity of taking a certain portion of time
for correction , are singularly confused , disjointed, and inelegant
in their style.
It is certain thai even his bans mots in society were not always
lo be set down to the credit of the occasion; but thai, frequently ,
like skilful priests , he prepared the miracle of the moment before-
hand. Nothing, indeed, could be more remarkable than the patience
and tact, with which he would wait through a whole evening for
Ihe exact moment when the shaft, which he had ready feathered,
might be let fly with effect. There was no effort, cither obvious or
disguised, to lead to the subject — no "question detached (as he
himself expresses it) to draw you into the ambuscade of his ready-
made joke " — and , when the lucky moment did arrive , the natural
and accidental manner, in which he would let this treasured sen-
tence fall from his lips , considerably added to the astonishment and
the charm. So bright a thing, produced so easily, seemed like the
delivery of Wieland's' Amanda in a dream ; — and his own apparent
unconsciousness of the value of w hat he said mighl have deceived
dull people into the idea that there was really nothing in it.
The consequence of this practice of waiting for the moment of
effect was (as all, who have been much in his society, must have
observed , ) that he would remain inert in conversation , and even
taciturn, for hours, and then suddenly come out with some bril-
lant sally, which threw a light over the whole evening, and was car-
ried away in the memories of all present. Nor must it be supposed
lhat in Ihe intervals, either before or after these flashes, he ceased
lo be agreeable ; on the contrary, he had a grace and good nature
in his manner, which gave a charm lo even his most ordinary
' Sec Sotheby's ntlinirablc Translation of Obcron.
OF R. n. SHERIDAN. 477
sayings, and thoro was, besides, that ever-speaking lustre in his
eye , which made it impossible , even when he was silent , to forget
who he was. ^^4
A curious instance of the care with, which he treasured up the
felicities of his wit appears in the use he made of one of those epi-
grammatic passages, which the reader may remember among the.
memorandums for his Comedy of Affectation , and which, in its
lirst form, ran thus: — " He certainly has a great deal of fancy ,
and a very good memory ; but with a perverse ingenuity, he cm-
ploys these qualities as no other person does — for he employs his
fancy in his narratives , and keeps his recollection for his wit : —
when he makes his jokes, you applaud the accuracy of his memory,
and Mis only when he states his facts that you admire the flights of
his imagination.11 After many efforts to express this thought more
concisely, and to reduce the language of it to that condensed and
clastic state , in which alone it gives force to the projectiles of wit ,
he kept the passage by him palienlly some years, — till he at length
found an opportunity of turning it to account, in a reply, I believe,
to Mr. Dundas , in the House of Commons , when , with the most
extemporaneous air, he brought it forth , in the following compact
and pointed form : — " The Right Honourable Gentleman is in-
debted to his memory for his jests , and to his imagination for his
facts.1'
His Political Character stands out so fully in these pages, that it
is needless , by any comments , to attempt to raise it into stronger
relief. If to watch over the Rights of the Subject, and guard them
against the encroachments of Power, be , even in safe and ordinary
limes , a task full of usefulness and honour, how much more glo-
rious to have stood ^entinel over the same sacred trust , through a
period so trying as that with which Sheridan had to struggle —
when Liberty itself had become suspected and unpopular — when
Authority had succeeded in identifying patriotism with treason ,
and when the few remaining and deserted friends of Freedom were
reduced to take their stand on a narrowing isthmus, between
Anarchy on one side and the angry incursions of Power on the
other. How manfully he maintained his ground in a position so
critical , the annals of England and of the Champions of her Con-
stitution will long testify. The truly national spirit, too, with which,
N\IICM that struggle was past, and the dangers to liberty from with-
out seemed greater than any from within , he forgot all past differ-
ences in the one common cause of Englishmen , and , while others
4fc gave but the left hand to the Country, ' " proffered her both of
1 His own words.
47S MEMOIRS
his, stamped a seal of sincerity on his public conduct which, in
the eyes of all England, authenticated it as genuine patriotism.
To his own party, it is true, his conduct presented a very dif-
ferent phasis ; and if implicit partisanship were the sole merit of a
public man , his movements , ajt this and other junclures, were far
too independent and unharnessed to lay claim to it. But , however
useful may be the bond of Party, there are occasions that supersede
it; and, in all such deviations from the fidelity which it enjoins,
the two questions to be asked are — were they, as regarded the Public,
right? were they, as regarded the individual himself , unpurchased?
To the former question, in the instance of Sheridan, the whole coun-
try responded in the affirmative-, and to the latter, his account with
the Treasury, from first to last , is a sufficient answer.
Even , however, on the score of fidelity to Parly, when we recol-
lect that he more than once submitted to some of the worst mar-
tyrdoms which it imposes — that of sharing in the responsibility of
opinions from which he dissented , and suffering by the ill-conse-
quences of measures against which he had protested ; — when we
call to mind , too, that during the Administration of Mr. Addington,
though agreeing wholly with the Ministry and differing with the
Whigs , he even then refused to profit by a position so favorable to
his interests, and submitted , like certain religionists , from a point
of honour, to suffer for a faith in which he did not believe — it
seems impossible not to concede that even to the obligations of
Party he was as faithful as could be expected from a spirit that so far
outgrew its limits , and , in paying the tax of fidelity while he
asserted (he freedom of dissent , showed that he could sacrifice
every thing to it, except his opinion. Through all these occasional
variations, too, he remained a genuine Whig to the last 5 and, as
I have heard one of his own party happily express it, was " like
pure gold , that changes colour in the fire , but comes out unal-
tered.1'
The transaction in 1812, relative to the Household, was, as 1
have already said , the least defensible part of his public life. But
it should be recollected how broken he was, both in mind and
body, at that period; — his resources from the Theatre at an end,
— the shelter of Parliament about to be taken from over his head
also, — and old age and sickness coming on, as every hope and
comfort vanished. In that wreck of all around him , the friendship
of Carlton-House was the last asylum left to his pride and his hope ;
and that even character itself should , in a too zealous moment,
have been one of the sacrifices offered up at the shrine that protected
him , is a subject more of deep regret than of wonder. The poet
OF R B. SHERIDAN. 470
Cowley, in speaking of the unproductiveness of those pursuits con-
nected with Wit and Fancy, says beautifully—
" Where sucli fairies once have danc'd , no grass will ever grow j "
but, unfortunately, thorns will grow there; — and he who walks
unsteadily among such horns as now beset the once enchanted path
of Sheridan, ought not, after all, to be very severely criticised.
His social qualities were, unluckily for himself, but loo attrac-
tive. In addition to his powers of conversation , there was a well-
bred good-nature in his manner, as well as a deference to the
remarks and opinions of others , the want of which very often, in
distinguished wits, offends the self-love of their hearers, and
makes even the dues of admiration that they levy a sort of " Droit
dii Seigneur " paid with unwillingness and distaste.
No one was so ready and cheerful in promoting the amusements
of a country-house ; and on a rural excursion he was always the
soul of the party. His talent at dressing a little dish was often put in
requisition on such occasions, and an Irish stew was that on which
he particularly plumed himself. Some friends of his recall with
delight a day of this kind which they passed with him , when he
made the whole party act over the Battle of the Pyramids on Mars-
den Moor, and ordered "Captain " Creevey and others upon various
services, against the cows and donkeys entrenched in the ditches.
Being of so playful a disposition himself, it was not wonderful that
he should lake such pleasure in the society of children. I have
been told , as doubly characteristic of him , that he has often , at
Mr. Monckton's , kept a chaise and four wailing half the day for
him at the door, while he romped with the children.
In what are called Vers de Societe , or drawing-room verses,
he took great delight ; and there remain among his papers several
sketches of these trifles. I once heard him repeat, in a ball-room,
some verses which he had lately written on Waltzing , and of which
I remember the following : —
" With tranquil step, and timid, downcast glance.
Behold the well-pair'd couple now advance.
In .such sweet posture our first Parents mov'd,
While, hand in hand, through Kden's bowers they rov'd
!•>•• yet the Devil, with promise foul and false,
Turn'd their poor heads and taught them how to // ',//w.
One hand grasps hers, the other holds her hip —
For so the Law's laid down by Barou Tiip '."
He had a sort of hereditary fancy for difficult trifling in poetry ;
1 This gentleman, whose name suits so aptly as a legal authority on the subject
of Waltzing, was, at the tinu: these verses were written, well known in I he dan-
cing circles.
480 MEMOIRS
— particularly for thai sort, which consists in rhyming to the same
word through a long siring of couplets, till every rhyme that the lan-
guage supplies for it is exhausted1. The following are specimens from
a poem of this kind , which he wrole on the loss of a lady's trunk : —
"MY TRUNK!
" ( To Anne. )
" Have you heard , my dear Anne, how my spirits are sunk ?
Have you heard of the cause? Oh , the loss of my Trunk!
From exertion or firmness I've never yet slunk ;
But my fortitude's goue with the loss of my Trunk!
Stout Lucy, my maid, is a damsel of spunk ;
Yet she weeps night and day for the loss of my Trunk!
I'd better turu nun , and coquet with a monk ;
For with whom can I flirt without aid from my Trunk?
Accurs'd be the thief, the old rascally hunks ,
Who rifles the fair , and lays hands on their Trunks !
He, who robs the King's stores of the least bit of junk ,
Is hang'd — while he 's safe , who has plunder'd my Trunk !
There's a phrase amongst lawyers , when nunc\ put for tune ;
But , tune and nunc both , must I grieve for my Trunk!
Huge leaves of that great commentator, old Bruuk,
Perhaps was the paper that liu'd my poor Trunk!
But my rhymes are all out ; — for I dare not use st — k ' ;
'Twou'd shock Sheridan more than the loss of my Trunk."
From another of these trifles (which, no doubt, produced much
gaiety at the breakfast-lable , ) the following extracts will be suf-
ficient : —
"Muse, assist me to complain,
\Vhile I grieve for Lady Jane.
I ne'er was in so sad a vein,
Deserted now by Lady Jane.
Lord Petre's house was built by Payne —
No mortal architect made Jane.
If hearts had windows , through the pane
Of mine you'd see sweet Lady Jane.
At breakfast I could scarce refrain
From tears at missing lovely Jane ;
Nine rolls I eat, in hopes to gar.u
The roll that might have fall'nto Jane," etc.
Another, written on a Mr. Bigg, contains some ludicrous
couplets : —
" I own he's not fam'd for a reel or a jig ,
Tom Sheridau there surpasses Tom Bigg.
' Some verses by General Fitzpatrick on Lord Holland's father are the best
specimen iliat I know of this sort of Scherzo.
'•' He had a particular horror of this word.
OF R. B. SHERIDAN. iSl
For , lam' J in ooe thigh , he is obliged to go zig— -
Zag , like a crab — so no dancer is Bigg.
Those who think him a coxcomb , or call him a prig ,
How little they know of the mind of my Bigg!
Tlio' he ne'er can be mine , Hope will catch a twig-
Two Deaths — and I yet may become Mrs. Bigg.
Oh give me, with him , but a cottage and pig ,
And content I would live on Beans , Bacon , and Bigg."
A few more of these light productions remain among his papers ,
but their wit is gone with those for whom they were written 5— (he
wings of Time " eripuere jocos."
Of a very different description are the following striking and
spirited fragments ( which ought to have been mentioned in a former
part of this work, ) written by him, apparently, about the year 1794,
and addressed to the Naval heroes of that period , to console them
for the neglect they experienced from the Government , while ri-
bands and titles were lavished on the Whig Seceders : —
" Never mind them , brave black Dick ,
Though they've played thee such a trick —
Damn their ribands and their garters,
Get you to your post and quarters.
Look upon the azure sea ,
There's a Sailor's Taffety !
Mark the Zodiac's radiant bow ,
That's a collar fit for HOWE !—
And , than P — tl — d's brighter far ,
The Pole shall furnish you a Star ' !
Damn their ribands and their garters ,
Get you to your post and quarters.
Think, on what things are ribands showered—
The two Sir Georges — T and H d !
Look to what rubbish Stars will stick ,
To Dicky H n aud Johnny D k !
Would it be for your country's good,
That you might pass for Alec. H d ,
Or, perhaps, — and worse by half —
To be mistaken for SirR h !
Would you , like C— = — , pine with spleen ,
Because .your bit of silk was green ?
Would yon , like C — — , change your side ,
To have your silk new dipt and dyed ? —
Like him, exclaim, ' My riband's hue
Was green — and now , by Heav'ns ! 'tis blue ,
And, like him — stain your honour too!
Damn their ribands and their garters ,
1 This reminds me of a happy application which he made upon a subsequent
occasion, of two lines of Dryden: —
" When men like F.rskine go astray,
The .stars are more in fault than they."
31
iS 2 MEMOIRS
Get you to your post ami quarter*.
()u the foes of Britain close,
\Vhile B k garters his Dutch hose,
And cons , with spectacles on nose ,
(While to battle j'au advance,)
His ' Honi soil qui mal y pense.' "
II has been seen, by a letter of his sister already given, that „
when young , he was generally accounted handsome ; but in later
ycars , his eyes were the only testimonials of beauty that remained
to him. It was , indeed , in the upper part of his face that the Spirit
of the man chiefly reigned ;— the dominion of the world and the
Senses being rather strongly marked out in the lower. In his per-
son, he was above the middle size , and his general make was , as I
have already said , robust and well proportioned. It is remarkable
that his arms, though of powerful strength, were thin, and ap-
peared by no means muscular. His hands were small <md delicate ;
and the following couplet, written on a cast from one of them ,
very livelily enumerates both its physical and moral qualities : —
" Good at a Figlit, but better at a Play,
Godlike iu giving , but — the Devil to Pay ! "
Among his habits, it may not be uninteresting to know that his
hours of composition, as long as he continued to be an author, were
at night , and that he required a profusion of lights around him
while he wrole. Wine , too , was one of his favourite helps to inspi-
ration ; — Cw If the thought (he would say ) is slow to come , a glass
of good wine encourages it , and , when it does come , a glass of
good wine rewards it."
Having taken a cursory view of his Literary, Political, and So-
cial qualities, it remains for rne to say a few words upon that most
important point of all , his Moral character.
There are few persons , as we have seen , to whose kind and
affectionate conduct , in some of the most interesting relations of
domestic life, so many strong and honourable testimonies remain.
The pains he took to win back the estranged feelings of his father ,
and the filial tenderness with which he repaid long years of parental
caprice , show a heart that had , at least , set out by the right road ,
however, in after years, it may have missed the way. The enthu-
siastic love which his sister bore him , and retained , unblighfed
by distance or neglect , is another proof of the influence of his
amiable feelings , at that period of life when he was as yet unspoiled
by the world. We have seen the romantic fondness which he pre-
served towards the first Mrs. Sheridan, even while doing his utmost,
arid in vain , to extinguish the same feeling in her. With the second
OF R. B. SHERIDAN. 483
wife, a course, nearly similar, was run-, — the same " scatterings
and eclipses " of affection , from the irregularities and vanities in
which he continued to indulge, but the same hold kept of each
other's hearts to the last. Her early letters to him breathe a passion
little short of idolatry, and her devoted attentions beside his death-
bed showed that Ihe essential part of the feeling still remained.
To claim an exemption for frailties and irregularities on the score
of genius , while there are such names as Milton and Newton on
record , were to be blind to the example which these and other
great men have left, of the grandest intellectual powers combined
wilh the most virtuous lives. But, for the bias given early to the
mind by education and circumstances even the least charitable may
bo inclined to make large allowances. We have seen how idly the
young days of Sheridan were wasted — how soon he was left (in the
words of the Prophet) " to dwell carelessly ," and with what an un-
disciplined temperament he was thrown upon the world , to meet at
every slep that never-failing spring of temptation , which , like the
fatal fountain in the Garden of Armida , sparkles up for ever in the
pathway of such a man : —
" Un fonte sorge in lei, che vagliee roonde
'Ha 1' aojue si, che i riguardanti asseta ,
Ma d«utro ai frcddi suni cristalli ascoiide
Di tosco estranmalvagita secreta."
Even marriage , which is among the sedatives of other men's
lives , but formed a part of the romance of his. The very attractions
of his wife increased his danger, by doubling, as it were, the power
of the world over him , and leading him astray by her light as well
as by his own. Had his talents, even then, been subjected to the
manege of a profession, there was still a chance that business,
and the round of regularity which it requires , might have infused
some spirit of order into his life. But the Stage — his glory and his
ruin — opened upon him ; and the property of which it made him
master was exactly of that treacherous kind , which not only de-
ceives a man himself, but enables him to deceive others , and thus
combined all that a person of his carelessness and ambition had
most to dread. An uncertain income , which , by eluding calculation,
gives an excuse for improvidence ' , and , still more fatal , a facility
1 How feelingly aware he was of this great source of all his misfortunes appears
.nun a passage in the ahle speech which he delivered before the Chancellor, as
Counsel in his own case, in the year 1799 or 1800: —
"It is a great disadvantage , relatively speaking, to any man , and especially to
a very careless and a very sanguine man, to have possessed an uncertain and
fluctuating income. That disadvantage is yreatly increased, if the person so cir-
cumstanced has conceived himself to he iu some degree entitled to presume , that ,
•'.84 MEMOIRS
of raising money , by which the lesson , that the pressure of distress
brings with it is evaded till it comes too late to be of use — such was
the dangerous power put into his hands , in his six-and-twentielh
year, and amidst the intoxication of as deep and quick draughts of
fame as ever young author quaffed. Scarcely had the zest of this
excitement begun to wear off, when he was suddenly transported
into another sphere, where successes still more flattering to his
vanity awaited him. Without any increase of means, he became the
companion and friend of the first Nobles and Princes , and paid the
usual tax of such unequal friendships, by, in the end, losing them
and ruining himself. The vicissitudes of a political life and those
deceitful vistas into office that were for ever opening on his party ,
made his hopes as fluctuating and uncertain as his means, and en-
couraged the same delusive calculations on both. He seemed, at
every new turn of affairs , to be on the point of redeeming himself;
and the confidence of others in his resources was no less fatal to him
than his own , as it but increased the facilities of ruin that sur-
rounded him.
Such a career as this — so shaped towards wrong , so inevitably '
devious — it is impossible to regard otherwise than with the most
charitable allowances. It was one long paroxysm of excitement — no
pause for thought — no inducements to prudence — the attractions all
drawing the wrong way, and a Voice, like that which Bossuct de-
scribes, crying inexorably from behind him, " On , On! ' " Instead
of wondering at the wreck that followed all this, our only surprise
should be, that so much remained uninjured through the trial , —
thai his natural good feelings should have struggled to the last with
his habits , and his sense of all that was right in conduct so long sur-
vived his ability to practise it.
by the exertion of liis own talents, he may at pleasure increase that income —
thereby becoming induced to make promises to himself which he may afterwards
f.iil to fulfil.
'• Occasional excess and frequent tmpunctuality will be the natural consequence*
of such a situation. But, my Lord, to exceed an ascertained and limited income
I hold to be a very different matter. In that situation I have placed myself, (r
since the present unexpected contention arose, for since then I would have adopt
ed JIG arrangements,) bnt months since, by my Deed of Trust to Mr. Adam
and in that situation I shall remain until every debt on earth, in which the Thea ti-
er I am concerned, shall he fully and fairly discharged. Till then I will live o
what remains to me — preserving that spirit of undaunted independence which ,
both as a pnblic and a private man, I trust, I have hitherto maintained."
1 " La loi est prononcee ; il faut avancer toujours. Je voudrois retourner sur mes
pas; 'Marche, Marche!' Un poids invincible nous entraine; il faut sans cesse
avancer vers le precipice. On se console pourtant, parce qne de temps en temp.->
on rencontre des objets qni nous diverlissent , des eanx comantes, des fleurs qui
j).iss.C!!t. On voadroit arivler; 'Marche, .Marche!1" — Scrim»i snr la Resurrection.
OF R. B. SHERIDAN. 485
Numerous, however, as were the causes that concurred to
disorganise his moral character, in his pecuniary embarrassment lay
the source of those blemishes that discredited him most in the eyes
of the world. He might have indulged his vanity and his passions ,
like others , with but liltle loss of reputation , if the consequence of
these indulgences had not been obtruded upon observation in the
forbidding form of debts and distresses. So much did his friend
Richardson , who thoroughly knew him , consider his whole cha-
racter to have been influenced by the straightened circumstances
in which he was placed, that he used often to say, " If an enchanter
could , by the touch of his wand , endow Sheridan suddenly with
fortune, he would instantly transform him into a most honourable
and moral man." As some corroboralion of this opinion, I must say
(lint, in the course of the inquiries which my task of biographer
imposed upon me , I have found all who were ever engaged in pe-
cuniary dealings with him, not excepting those who suffered most
severely by his irregularities ( among which class I may cite the
respected name of Mr. Hammersley ) , unanimous in expressing
their conviction that he always meant fairly and honourably $ and
that to the inevitable pressure of circumstances alone , any failure
(hat occurred in his engagements was to be imputed.
There cannot , indeed , be a stronger exemplification of the truth,
that a want of regularity ' becomes itself a vice , from the manifold
evils to which it leads , than the whole history of Mr. Sheridan's
pecuniary transactions. So far from never paying his debts , as is
often asserted of him, he was in fact always paying^ but in such a
careless and indiscriminate manner, and with so little justice to
himself or others , as often to leave the respectable creditor to suffer
for his patience , while the fraudulent dun was paid two or three
limes over. Never examining accounts nor referring to receipts, he
1 His improvidence iu every thing connected with money was most remarkable.
He would frequently he obliged to stop on his journies, for want of the means of
getting on, and to remain living expensively at an inn, till a remittance could
reach him. His letters to the treasurer of the theatre on these occasions were gene-
rally headed with the words, " Money -bound." A friend of his told me, that out-
morning, while waiting for him in his study, he cast his eyes over the heap of
unopened letters that lay upon the table, and, seeing one or two with coronets
on the seals, said to Mr. Westley, the treasurer, who was present, " I see we are
all treated alike." Mr. Westley then informed him that he had once fonnd , on
looking over this table, a letter which he had himself sent, a few weeks before,
to Mr. Sheridan, enclosing a ten-pound note, to release him from some inn, but
'. hirh Sheridan , having raised the supplies in some other way, had never thought
• it opening. The prudent treasurer took away the letter, and reserved the enclo-
sure for some future exigence.
Among instances of his inattention to letters, the following is mentioned. Going
one day to the banking-house , where he was accustomed to receive his salary, «s>
is<; MEMOIRS
seemed as if, (in imitation of his own Charles, preferring genero-
sity to justice,) he wished to make paying as like as possible to
giving. Interest, too, with its usual, silent accumulation, swelled
every debt ; and I have found several instances among his accounts
where the interest upon a small sum had been suffered to increase
till it outgrew the principal ; — minima pars ipsa puella sui."
Notwithstanding all this , however, his debts were by no means
so considerable as has been supposed. In the year 1808 , he em-
powered Sir R. Berkely, Mr. Peter Moore, and Mr. Frederick Ho-
rnan , by power of attorney, to examine into his pecuniary affairs ,
and take measures for the discharge of all claims upon him. These
gentlemen, on examination, found that his bond fide debts were
about ten thousand pounds , while his apparent debts amounted to
five or six times as much. Whether from conscientiousness or from
pride , however , he would not suffer any of the claims to be con-
tested , but said that the demands were all fair , and must be paid
just as they were stated ; — though it was well known that many of
them had been satisfied more than once. These gentlemen , accord-
ingly, declined to proceed any farther with their commission.
On the same false feeling he acted in 1813-14, when the balance
due on the sale of his theatrical property was paid him , in a certain
number of Shares. When applied to by any creditor, he would give
him one of these Shares, and allowing his claim entirely on his own
showing, leave him to pay himself out of it, and refund the balance.
Thus irregular at all times , even when most wishing to be right ,
he deprived honesty itself of its merits and advantages ; and , where
he happened to be just , left it doubtful (as Locke says of those
religious people , who believe right by chance , without examina-
tion ) " whether even the luckiness of the accident excused the ir-
regularity of the proceeding '."
The consequence , however , of this continual paying was that
the number of his creditors gradually diminished , and that ulti-
mately the amount of his debts was , taking all circumstances into
Receiver of Cornwall, and where they sometimes accommodated him with small
Mims before the regular time of payment , he asked , with all due hamility, whether
titey could oblige him with the loan of twenty pounds. "Certainly, Sir," said the
clerk, — "would yon like any more — fifty, or a hundred?" Sheridan, all smiles
and gratitude, answered that a hundred pounds would be of the greatest conve-
nience to him. ''Perhaps, you would like to take two hundred, or three?" said
the clerk. At every increase of the sum , the surprise of the borrower increased.
"Have not yod then received our letter?" said ihe clerk; — on which it turned
out that, in consequence of the falling in of some fine, a sum of twelve hundred
pounds, had been lately placed to the credit of the Receiver-General , and that,
ironi not having opened the letter written to apprise him, he had been left in
ignorance of his good luck.
1 Chapter on Reason.
OF R. B. SHERIDAN. ',S7
account , by no means considerable. Two years after his death it
appeared by a list made up by his Solicitor from claims sent in to
him, in consequence of an advertisement in the newspapers, that
the bond fide debts amounted to about five thousand five hundred
pounds.
If, therefore, \\e consider his pecuniary irregularities in reference
to the injury that they inflicted upon others , the quantum of evil for
which he is responsible becomes , after all , not so great. There
are many persons in the enjoyment of fair characters in the world ,
who would be happy to have no deeper encroachment upon the pro-
perty of others to answer for , and who may well wonder by what
unlucky management Sheridan could contrive to found so extensive
a reputation for bad pay upon so small an amount of debt.
Let it never, too, be forgotten, in estimating this part of his cha-
racter, that had he been less consistent and disinterested in his
public conduct , he might have commanded the means of being
independent and respectable in private. He might have died a rich
apostate, instead of closing a life of patriotism in beggary. He
might ( to use a fine expression of his own ) have " hid his head in
a coronet," instead of earning for it but the barren wreath of public
gratitude. While , therefore , we admire the great sacrifice that he-
made , let us be tolerant to the errors and imprudences which it
entailed upon him ; and , recollecting how vain it is to look for any
thing unalloyed in this world, rest satisfied with the Martyr, without
requiring, also, the Saint.
THE END.
.-*'•'*
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