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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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