THE UNIVERSITY 
 OF ILLINOIS 
 LIBRARY 
 
 Prom the collection of 
 Julius Doerner, Chicago 
 Purchased, 1918. 
 
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 I 
 
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MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE RIGHT 
 HONORABLE RICHARD BRINSLEF SHERI- 
 DAN. By Thomas Moore. Two volumes in 
 one. 12mo., cloth, gold and black, with steel 
 portrait. $1.50. 
 
 SKETCHES OF THE IRISH BAR. By the 
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 THE LIFE OF THE RIGHT HONORABLE 
 JOHN PHILPOT CURRAN, late Master of the 
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 PERSONAL SKETCHES OF HIS OWN 
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 BITS OF BLARNEY. Edited by R. Shelton 
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MEMOIRS 
 
 OF THE 
 
 LIFE OF THE RIGHT HONORABLE 
 
 — BY— 
 
 THOMAS MOORE. 
 
 TWO 'VOI-.XJlivdlES ZTT OZTE 
 
 CHICAGO : 
 
 Union Catholic Publishing Company. 
 
 MDCCCLXXXII. 
 
.viANUFACTURED BY 
 
 Donohue & Henneberry, 
 
 CHICAGO 
 
s 5 5 2 ^ rr? 
 I 
 
 TO 
 
 GEORGE BRYAN, Esq., 
 
 THIS WORK IS INSCRIRF.i), 
 
 BY 
 
 UIS SINCERE AND AFFECTIONATE FRIEND. 
 
 THOMAS MOORE. 
 
PKEFACE 
 
 The first four Chapters of this work were written near- 
 ly 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 honor upon a name, already so distin- 
 guished, I am indebted for the chief part of the materials 
 upon which the following Memoirs of his father are 
 founded. I have to thank him, 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 re- 
 frained from all interference with the execution of it; — 
 neither he, nor aii}’^ 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 my- 
 self. 
 
 ( 5 ) 
 
VI 
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 The details of Mr. Sheridan’s early life were obliging- 
 ly communicated to me by his younger sister, Mrs. Le- 
 fanu, to whom, and to her highly gifted daughter, I offer 
 my best thanks for the assistance which they have afford- 
 ed me. 
 
 The obligations, of a similar nature, which I owe to 
 the kindness of Mr "William Linley, Doctor Bain, Sir 
 Burgess, and others, are acknowledged, with due grati- 
 tude, in my remarks on their respective communications 
 
CONTENTS TO VOL. I. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 Birth and Education of Mr. Sheridan. — His First Attempts in Litera- 
 
 ture 9 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 Duels with ]\Ir. Mathews. — Marriage with Miss Linley. ... 45 
 
 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.’^ 79 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 The Duenna. — Purchase of Drury-Lane Theatre. — The Trip to Scarbo- 
 rough. — Poetical Correspondence with Mrs. Sheridan. . . . 105 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 The School for Scandal 139 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 Further Purchase of Theatrical Property. — Monody to the Memory of Gar- 
 
 rick. — Essay on Metre. — The Critic. — Essay on Absentees. — Political 
 Connections. — “ The Englishman.*^ — Elected for Stafford. . .173 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 Unfinished Plays and Poems 199 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 His First Speeches in Parliament. — Rockingham Administration. — Coali- 
 tion. — India Bill. — Re-election for Stafford 225 
 
 ( 7 ) 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 TiXi 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 The Prince of Wales. — Financial Measures. — Mr. Pitt's East India Bill. — 
 Irish Commercial Propositions. — Plan of the Duke of Richmond. — 
 Sinking Fund. .260 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 Chareres against Mr. Hastings. — Commercial Treaty with France. — Debts of 
 The Prince of Wales . 283 
 
MEMOIKS 
 
 OF THE 
 
 LIFE OF THE RT. HON, 
 
 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 baptized in 
 St. Mary’s Church, as appears by the register of the parish, on 
 the fourth of the following month. His grandfather, Dr. Sheri- 
 dan, and his father, Mr. Thomas Sheridan, have attained a cele- 
 brity, independent of that which he has conferred on them, by 
 the friendship and correspondence with which the former w^as 
 honored by Swift, and the competition and even rivalry which 
 the latter so long maintained with Garrick. His mother, too, 
 was a woman of considerable talents, and affords one of the few 
 instances that have occurred, of a female indebted for a husband 
 to her literature ; as it was a pamphlet she wrote concerning the 
 Dublin theatre tliat first attracted to her the notice of Mr. 
 Thomas Sheridan. Her affecting novel, Sidney Biddulph, 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, — put- 
 ting on a fairy disguise, like her own Mandane, to deceive her 
 
 * Ho was c]i istened also by the name of Bailer, after the Eo-rl of Lanesbor^gh. 
 
 ( 9 ) 
 
10 
 
 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 
 
 readers into a taste for happiness and virtue. Besides her two 
 plays, The Discovery and The Dupe, — the former of which Gar- 
 rick 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 
 Bome of those sagacious persons, who love to look for flaws in 
 the titles of fame, to have passed, with her other papers, into the 
 possession of her son, and, after a transforming sleep, like that 
 of the chrysalis, in his hands, to have taken wing at length in the 
 brilliant form of The Rivals. The literary labors of her husband 
 were less fanciful, but not, perhaps, less useful, and are chiefly 
 upon subjects connected with education, to the study and profes- 
 sion of which he devoted the latter part of his life. Such dignity, 
 indeed, did his favorite pursuit assume in his own eyes, that 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 at the head of respectable academies, than one of them 
 prime mmister of England, and the other at the head of affairs 
 in Ireland.” 
 
 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 Grafton 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 with gratitude and pleasure, is a tribute at once to 
 the zeal and gentleness of our master, which none ever deserved 
 more truly from his pupils than Mr. Whyte, and which the wri- 
 ter of these pages, who owes to that excellent person all the in- 
 structions in English literature- he has ever received, is happy to 
 take this opportunity of paying. The young Sheridans, however, 
 were little more than a year under his care — and it may be con- 
 soling to parents who are in the first crisis of impatience, at the 
 sort of hopeless stupidity which some children exhibit, to know, 
 that the dawn of Sheridan’s intellect was as dull and unpromis- 
 mg as i% meridian day was bright ; and that in the year 1759, 
 he whc, in less than thirty years afterwards, held senates enchain- 
 
RIGHT HON. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 11 
 
 ed by his eloquence and audiences fascinated by Ms wit, was, by 
 common consent both of parent and preceptor, pronounced to be 
 “a most impenetrable dunce.” 
 
 From Mr. Whyte’s school the 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 
 at home as a fitter subject for the instructions of his father, who, 
 by another of those calculations of poor human foresight, which 
 the deity, called Eventus by the Romans, takes such wanton plea- 
 sure in falsifying, consiylered his elder son as destined to be the 
 brighter of the two brother stars. At Harrow, Richard was re- 
 markable only as a very idle, careless, but, at the same time, en- 
 gaging boy, who contrived to win the affection, and even admira- 
 tion of the whole school, both masters and pupils, by the mere 
 charm of his frank and genial manners, and by the occasional 
 gleams of superior intellect, which broke through all the indolence 
 and indifference of his character. 
 
 Harrow, at this time, possessed some peculiar advantages, of 
 which a youth like Sheridan might have powerfully availed him- 
 self. At the head of the school was Doctor Robert Sumner, a 
 man of fine talents, but, unfortunately, one of those who have 
 passed away without leaving any trace behind, except in the ad- 
 miring recollection of their cotemporaries. His taste is said to 
 have. been of a purity almost perfect, combining what are seldom 
 seen together, that critical judgment which is alive to the errors 
 of genius, with the warm sensibility that deeply feels its beau- 
 ties. At the same period, the distinguished 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 endeavored, 
 by every method they could devise, to awaken in Sheridan a con- 
 sciousness of those powers which, under all the disadvantages of 
 indolence and carelessness, it was manifest to them that he pos- 
 sessed. But remonstrance and encouragement were equally 
 thrown away upon the good-humored but immovable indiffer 
 ence of their pupil ; and though there exist among Mr. Sheridan’s 
 
12 
 
 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 
 
 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 sentire de re puhlica' 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 kindness to favor me, and to which his name gives an 
 authenticity and interest too valuable on such a subject to be with- 
 held : 
 
 “Dear Sir, '‘'’Hatton^ August 3, 1818. 
 
 “With the aid of a scribe I sit down to fulfil my promise 
 about Mr. Sheridan. There was little in his boyhood worth com- 
 munication. 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 himself by Latin or Eng- 
 lish composition, in prose or verse."^ Nathaniel Halhed, one of 
 his school-fellows, wrote well in Latin and Greek. Richard 
 Archdall, another school-fellow, excelled in English verse. Rich- 
 ard Sheridan aspired to no rivalry with either of them. He was 
 at the uppermost part of the fifth form, but he never reached the 
 sixth, and, if I mistake not, he had no opportunity of attending 
 the most difficult and the most honorable 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 Sumner, it once fell 
 in my way to instruct the two upper forms, and upon calling up 
 
 * It will be seen, however, though Dr. Parr was not aware of the circumstance, that 
 Sheridan did *ry his talent at English verse before he left Harrow. 
 
EIGHT iiON. RIcHARH BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 
 
 18 
 
 Dick Sheridan, I found him not only slovenly in construing, but 
 unusually defective in his Greek grammar. Knowing him to be 
 a clever fellow, I did not fail to probe and to tease him. I stated 
 his case with great good-humor to the upper master, who was one 
 of the best tempered men in the world ; and it was agreed be- 
 tween us, that Richard should be called oftener and worked more 
 severely. Tlie 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 ; and, in this de- 
 fenceless 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 in- 
 cur any corporal punishment for his idleness : his industry was 
 just sufficient to protect him from disgrace. All the while Sum- 
 ner and I saw in him vesjiges of a superior intellect. His eye, 
 his countenance, his general manner, were striking. His answers 
 to any common question were prompt and acute. W e 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 neighborhood 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-humor 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 ; but my exhortations 
 were fruitless. I take for granted that his taste was silently im- 
 proved, and that he knew well the little which he did know. He 
 was removed from school too 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, pro- 
 nunciation was frequently the favorite subject between him and 
 
14 
 
 MEMOIRS^ OF TJSE LIFE OF THE 
 
 Tom Sheridan. I was present at many of their discussions ai u 
 disputes, and sometimes took a very active part in them, — bai 
 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 liim from sending Rich- 
 ard 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 afforded 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 regular 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 per- 
 formed a Greek play, and when Sir William Jones and I were 
 talking over this event, I determined to make the experiment in 
 England. I selected some of my best boys, and they performed 
 the ffidipus Tyrannus, and the Trachinians of Sophocles. I wrote 
 some Greek lambics 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 1 attempted. 
 
 “ I saw much of Sheridan’s father after the death of Sumner, 
 and after my own reraovai 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 
 inquired about Richard, and, from the father’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 
 a^? discovering and encouraging in Richard Sheridan those intel- 
 lectual 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 \vas a school-boy. He gave us few opportuui- 
 
RIGHT HON. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 16 
 
 ties 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 be done by him than he was disposed 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 speaking, — and, upon such a subject, indo- 
 lence 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, sue 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 prohciency of the sister, 
 naughty Richard, like Gallio, seemed to care naught for these 
 things. 
 
 “ In the later periods of his life Richard did not cast behind 
 him classical 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 m Horace. 1 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 did not, and could not forget what he once knew, but 
 his path to Icnowledge 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 
 
 * It was not one of the least of the triumphs of Sheridan’s talent to have been 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 little he had learned. 
 
16 
 
 MEMOIRS OF THE LiFE OF THE 
 
 means vicious. The sources of his infirmities were a scanty 
 and precarious allowance 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. I am very solicitous :or 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 w^as 
 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 pretensions, 
 but less real intellect than themselves, meekly conceal this 
 superiority even from their own hearts, and pass their lives 
 without remonstrance or murmur, in gently endeavoring to 
 repair those evils which the indiscretion or vanity of their 
 partners has brought upon them. 
 
 As a supplement to the interesting con iimuii cation of Dr. 
 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 latter that Mrs. Lefanu would communicate such particu- 
 lars 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 
 
 • The remainder of the letter relates to other subjects. 
 
RIGHT HOIST. RICH ART) BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. it 
 
 retrospective affection, which, when those whom we have loved 
 become altered, whether in mind or person, brings the recollec- 
 tion of what they once were, to mingle with and soften our im- 
 pression of what they are. 
 
 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 attachment 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 genius, and were soft as a tender and affectionate 
 heart could render them. The same playful fancy, the same 
 sterling and innoxious wit, that was showm afterwards in his 
 writings, cheered and delighted the family circle. I admired — I 
 almost adored him. I would most willingly have sacrificed 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 dis- 
 pleasure threatened to involve me in the denunciations against 
 him, for committing what he considered as a crime. Yet I 
 risked everything, and in the 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 
 absence nor neglect could chill — I always 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 tuition from Mr. Lewis Kerr, an Irish gentle 
 man, who had formerly practised as a physician, but having, by 
 loss of health, been obliged to give up his profession, supported 
 
18 
 
 MEMOIRS OP THE LIFE OF THE 
 
 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, however 
 inattentive to his studies he may have been at Harrow, it 
 appears, from one of the letters of his school-fellow, Mr. Halhed, 
 that in poetry, which is usually the first exercise in which these 
 young athletse of intellect try their strength, he had already dis- 
 tinguished himself ; and, in conjunction with his friend Halhed, 
 had translated the seventh Idyl, and many of the lesser poems 
 of Theocritus. This literary partnership was resumed soon after 
 their departure from Harrow. In the year 1770, when Halhed 
 was at Oxford, and Sheridan residing with his father at Bath, 
 they entered into a correspondence, (of which, unluckily, only 
 Halhed s share remains,) and, with all the hope and spirit o^ 
 young adventurers, began and prosecuted a variety of works 
 together, of which none but their translation of Aristsenetus ever 
 saw the light. 
 
 There is something in tne alliance between these boys pecu- 
 liarly interesting. Their united ages, as Halhed boasts in one 
 of his letters, did not amount to thirty-eight. They \vere 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, 
 
RIGHT HON. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 19 
 
 which I question whether even his witty correspondent could 
 have surpassed. As I do not, however, feel authorized to lay 
 these letters before the world, I must only avail myself of the 
 aid which their contents supply tov/ards tracing the progress of 
 his literary partnership with Sheridan, 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 burletta of 
 JMidas, 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 Rich- 
 ard Ixion’s courtship of Juno, who substitutes Miss Peggy Nuhi- 
 lis in her place, form the subject of this ludicrous little drama, 
 of which Halhed furnished the burlesque scenes, — while the form 
 of a rehearsal, into which the whole is thrown, and which, as an 
 anticipation of “ The Critic” is highly curious, was suggested and 
 managed entirely by Sheridan. The^following extracts will give 
 gome idea of the humor of this trifle ; and in the character of 
 Simile the reader will at once discover a sort of dim and 
 shadowy pre-existence of Puff : — 
 
 Simile. Sir, you are very ignorant on the subject, — it is the method 
 most in vogue. ’ 
 
 ‘‘ GWul. What! to make the music first, and then make the sense to it 
 afterwards 1 
 
 “ Sim. Just so. 
 
 ‘‘ Monop. What Mr. Simile says is very true, gentlemen ; and there is 
 nothing surprising in it, if we consider now the general method of writing 
 plays to scenes. 
 
 ‘‘ O' Out. Writing to scenes! — Oh, you are joking. 
 
 “ Monop. Not I, upon my word. Mr. Simile knows that I have frequent- 
 ly 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. 
 
 “ QCul. 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 prin- 
 ciples, you must often commit blunders. 
 
 Sim, Blunders! to be sure I must, but I always could get myself out 
 
20 
 
 MEMOIRS OP THE LIFE OP THE 
 
 of them again. Why, I’ll tell you an instance of it. — You must know 1 
 was once a journeyman sonnet-writer to Signor Squallini. Now, his method, 
 when seized with the furor harmonicu8^ was constantly to make me sit by 
 his side, while he was thrumming on his harpsichord, in order to make ex- 
 tempore verses to whatever air he should beat out to his liking. I remem- 
 ber, one morning, as he was in this situation, thruniy thrum^ ihrum^ (moving 
 his fingers as if heating on the harpsichord^) striking out something pro- 
 digiously great, as he thought, — ‘ Hah !’ said he, — ‘ hah! Mr. Simile, thrum, 
 thrum ^ 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 land and calm the seas. 
 
 And calm the heaven’s dome serene, 
 
 Hush’d was the gale and hush’d the breeze, 
 
 And not a vapor to be seen.’ 
 
 I sang it to his notes, — ‘ Hah ! upon my vord vary pritt, — thrum, thrum^ 
 thrum, — stay, stay, — thrum, ^Arwm,^Hoa? upon my vord, here it must be 
 an adagio, — thrum, thrum, — oh 1 let it be an Ode to Melancholy.^ 
 
 Monop. The Devil! — ther^you v/ere puzzled sure. 
 
 ‘‘ Bim. 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. 
 
 “ OWul. Vastly ingenious indeed. 
 
 Sim. Was it not? hey! it required a little command, — a little presence 
 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 hook) enter 
 Sir Richard Ixion, — but stay, — zounds. Sir Richard ought to overhear Ju- 
 piter 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 toe 
 attentive. 
 
 Enter Sir Richard Ixion completely dressed, with hag, sword, dec. 
 
 “ Tx. ’Fore George, at logger-heads, — a lucky minute, 
 
 ’Ron honor, I may make my market in it. 
 
 Dem it, my air, address, and mien must touch her, 
 
 Now out of sorts with him, — less God than butcher. 
 
 0 rat the fellow, — where can all his sense lie, 
 
 To gallify the lady so immensely? 
 
 Ah! le grand hete quHl est ! — how rude the bear is! 
 
 The world to two-pence he was ne’er at Paris. 
 
RIGHT HON. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 21 
 
 j erdition stap my vitals,. — now or never 
 I’ll niggle snugly into Juno’s favor. 
 
 Let's see, — {looking in a glass) my face, — toll loll — Hwill work upon her. 
 My person — oh, immense, upon my honor. 
 
 My eyes, — oh fie, — the naughty glass it fiatters, — 
 
 Courage, — Ixion flogs the world to tatters. \^Exit Txion. 
 
 “ 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 fi:om Maga- 
 zines, 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 Salmoneus’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.” * 
 
 *<**♦♦♦*♦ 
 
 “ Sim. Now for a Phoenix of a song. 
 
 Song hg Jupiter. 
 
 You dogs, I’m Jupiter Imperial, 
 
 King, Emperor, and Pope aetherial, 
 
 Master of th’ Ordnance of the sky. — 
 
 “ Sim. Z ds, where’s the ordnance ? Have you forgot the plst A ? (^o 
 
 the Orchestra,) 
 
 ‘‘ Orchestra, {to some one behind the scenes.) Tom, are not you 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. Oh then, Jupiter, begin the song again. — We must not lose our 
 ordnance. 
 
 You dogs, I’m Jupiter Imperial, 
 
 King, Emperor, and Pope aetherial,. 
 
 Master of th’ Ordnance of the sky ; &c. &c. 
 
 \_flere a pistol or cracker is fired from behind the scenes. 
 
 ‘‘ 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 present- 
 ly. Well, now for the real, original, patentee Amphitryon. What, ho, Am- 
 phitryon! Amphitryon I— ’tis Simile calls.— Why, where the devil is he? 
 
 Enter Servant. 
 
 Monop. Tom, where is Amphitryon? 
 
 “ Sim. Zounds, he's not arrested too, is he ? 
 
22 
 
 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 
 
 Serv. No, Sir, but there was but one black eye in the house, and he 
 waiting to get it from Jupiter. 
 
 “ Sim. To get a 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 thihgs were at last to be compromised between Jupiter 
 and Juno ; Amphitryon was to be comforted in the birth of sc 
 mighty a son ; Ixion, for his presumption, instead of being fixed 
 to a torturing wheel, was to have been fixed to a vagrant mono- 
 troche, as knife-grinder, and a grand chorus of deities (intermixed 
 with “ knives, scissors, pen-knives to grind,” 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, remarkable 
 in the character of Mr. Sheridan, — and we have here an early in- 
 stance 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 success, 
 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 ar- 
 rival of the manuscript was announced to Mr. Foote. “ I have 
 dispatched a card, as from II. 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 
 naturally and livelily expressed throughout Ilalhed’s letters, some- 
 times with a degree of humorous pathos, which is interesting as 
 characteristic 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 am- 
 * bition, and hopes that they will, at least, get the freedom of the 
 play-house by it. But at all times he chides, with good-humored 
 impatience, the tardiness of his follow-laborer in applying to the 
 managers. Fears are expressed that Foote may have made 
 
BIGHT HON. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 28 
 
 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 favorable hearing, 
 as Dibdin was one of the principal butts of their ridicule. 
 
 The summer season, however, was suffered to pass away with- 
 out an effort ; and in October, 1771, we find Mr. Halhed flatter- 
 ing 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 ; and indeed it is probable, 
 from the following fragment of a scene found among his papers, 
 that he soon abandoned the groundwork 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 was 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. 0 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 virtuous- 
 ness 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 
 
 “ 8. 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.” 
 
24 
 
 MEMOIES OF THE LIFE OF THE 
 
 W e have here some of the very thoughts and words tliat 
 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 hoy. 
 
 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 Kerr, 
 who undertook, with much good nature, the negotiation of the 
 young authcPs literary concerns in London. The letter is dated 
 30th of October, 1770 : “As to your intended periodical paper, 
 if it meets with 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 the authors. But I am to indem- 
 nify him in case it should not sell, and 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 the 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 Tatler, 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 weekly, you may 
 reckon on receiving £5 clear. One paper a week will do better 
 than two. Pray say no more as to our accounts.” 
 
 The title 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 labors, this meditated 
 
RIGHT HON. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 
 
 25 
 
 Miscellany never proceeded beyond the first number, which was 
 written by Sheridan, and which I have found among his papers. 
 It is too 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 
 sixpenVorth) it cannot be but people must be sick of these same rascally 
 politics. All last winter nothing but— God defend me! ’tis tiresome to 
 think of it.’ I immediately flung the pamphlet down on the table, and 
 taking my hat and cane walked out of the cofiee-house. 
 
 “ I kept up as smart a pace as I could all the way home, for I felt myself 
 full of something, and enjoyed my own thoughts so much, that I was afraid 
 of digesting them, lest any should escape me. At last I knocked at my 
 own door. — ‘ So !’ said I to the maid who opened it, (for I never would 
 keep a man ; not, but what I could afford it — however, the reason is not 
 material now,) ‘ So I’ said I with an unusual smile upon my face, and imme- 
 diately sent her for a quire of paper and half a hundred of pens — the only 
 thing I had absolutely determined on in my way from the coffee-house. I 
 had now got seated in my arm chair, — I am an infirru old man, and I live on 
 a second floor, — when I began to ruminate on my project. The first thin^ 
 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 w’as I surprised, when one 
 of the first things that struck my eyes v/as the following memorandum, 
 legibly WTitten, and on one of my best sheets of vellum : — ‘ Mem. — Oct. 20th, 
 
 1769, left the Grecian after having read "s Poems^ vnth a determined 
 
 resolution to write a Periodical Paper, in ord>r to 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 op- 
 portunity. Now though this event had absolutely slipped my memory, I 
 now recollected it perfectly, — ay, so my fire was out indeed, and my maid did 
 go abroad sure enough. — ‘ Good Heavens 1’ said I, ‘ how great events depend 
 upon little circumstances !’ However, I looked upon this as a memento 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 
 VOL. I. 8 
 
26 
 
 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 
 
 the steps, I soon discovered it must be my old and intimate friend Rud- 
 liche. 
 
 ******** 
 
 ‘‘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 5 but, having by chance cast his eye on my face, and 
 finding (I suppose) something extraordinary in my countenance, he imme- 
 diately dropped all concern for the weather, and putting his hand into his 
 pocket, (as if he meant to find what he v/as going to say, under pretence of 
 feeling for his tobacco-box,) ‘ Hernan ! (he 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 con- 
 sidering 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 disbur- 
 dening 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 
 .^’11 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 ’5 Divine Legation of Moses, and ’5 Lives 
 
 of the most notorious Malefactors,) and I am now determined to proht 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, when 
 Rudliche calmly replied, with the true phlegm of ignorance, ‘ My dear 
 friend, I think your resolution in regard to your books a very prudent one ; 
 but I do not perfectly conceive your plan as to the profit ; for, though your 
 volumes may be very curious, yet you know they are most of them second- 
 hand.’ — I 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 explained to him the whole 
 matter. 
 
 *♦♦*♦** * 
 
 “ In examining the beginning of the Spectators, &c., I find they are all 
 written by a society. — Now I profess to write all myself, though I acknowl 
 
BIGHT HON. EICHABD BBINSLEY SHERIDAN. 27 
 
 edge that, on account of a weakness in my eyes, I have got some under- 
 strappers who are to write the poetry, &c In order to find the dif- 
 
 ferent merits of these my subalterns, 1 stipulated with them that they should 
 let me feed them as I would. This they consented to do, and it is surpris- 
 ing to think 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 ditch-water * * * 
 
 “ 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 difficul- 
 ties of execution succeed to the first ardor cf conception, that it 
 is only wonderful there should exist so many finished monu- 
 ments of genius, or that men of fancy should not oftener 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 time were a Collection 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 little 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 other young 
 authors, who, in the season of folly and the passions, 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 these youthful 
 authors, the translation of Aristeenetus, as I have already stated, 
 was the only fruit of their literary alliance that ever arrived at 
 sufficient maturity for publication. In November, 1770, Halhed 
 had completed and forwarded to Bath his share of the work, 
 and in the following month we find Sheridan preparing, with the 
 assistance of a Greek grammar, to complete the task. “ The 
 29th ult., (says Mr. Ker, in a letter to him from London, dated 
 Dec. 4, 1770,) I was favored with yours, and have since been 
 hunting for Aristsenetus, whom 1 found this day, and therefore 
 
28 
 
 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 
 
 send to you, together with a Greek grammar. I might have 
 dispatched at the same time some numbers of the Dictionary, 
 but not having got the last two numbers, was not willing to 
 send any without the whole of what is published, and still less 
 willing to delay Aristasnetus’s journey by waiting 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 would be for the demands of a market, 
 who went into it with nothing but a few ancient coins in his 
 pocket. ^ 
 
 The passion, however, that now began to take possession of 
 his heart was little favorable 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 Aristsenetus, 
 though a task more suited, from its amatory nature, to the ex- 
 isting 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 sjpolia ophna 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 with Miss Linley at Oxford. But the profits expected 
 from their literary undertakings were the only means to which 
 he looked for the realizing of this dream ; and he accordingly 
 implores his friend, with tlie most comic piteousness, to drive 
 the farce on the stage by main force, and to make Aristsenetus 
 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 
 Ilalhed recommending that they should wait to hear how Sum- 
 ner and the wise few of their acquaintance ” would talk of the 
 bookj before they risked anything more than their initials. In 
 
RIGHT HON. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 29 
 
 answer to Sheridan’s inquiries 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 
 humiliating 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 Aristaenetus were under the 
 influence of this sort of inspiration appears from every para- 
 graph of Halhed’s letters, and might easily, indeed, be concluded 
 of Sheridan, from the very limited circumstances of his father, 
 who had nothing besides 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 prospects of Halhed were 
 much more golden, but he was far too gay and mercurial to be 
 prudent ; and from the very scanty supplies which his father 
 allowed him, had quite as little of “ le superflu, chose si neces- 
 saire,” 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 Aristsenetus, presented themselves, was an exhibition of 
 £20 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 
 Aristaenetus 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 first of June next, in the form of a neat 
 volume, price Ss. or Ss. 6(/., as may best suit his size, &c., which 
 cannot be more nearly determined at present. I have undertaken 
 
80 
 
 MEMOIRS OE THE LIFE OF THE 
 
 the task cf correcting 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 was 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 addi- 
 tion 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 naturedly undertook to nego- 
 tiate. 
 
 At length in August, 1771, Aristaenetus made its appearance 
 — contrary to the advice of the bookseller, and of Mr. Ker, who 
 represented to Sheridan the unpropitiousness of the season, partic- 
 ularly for a first experiment in authorship, and advised the post- 
 ^ ponement of the publication till October. But the translators 
 were too eager for the rich harvest of emolument they had pro- 
 mised themselves, and too full of that pleasing but often fatal de- 
 lusion — that calenture, under the influence of which young voya- 
 gers to the 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 fortnight after the publication,) to 
 make some noise, and is fathered on Mr. Johnson, author of the 
 English Dictionary, &c. See to-day’s Gazetteer. The critics are 
 admirable in discovering a concealed author by his style, man- 
 ner, &c.” 
 
 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 w'hich 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 h*s hopes. The Critical Reviewers, it seems, had given 
 
RIGHT HON. RICHARH BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 31 
 
 the work a tolerable character, and quoted the first Epistle."^ 
 The Weekly Review in the Public Ledger had also spoken well 
 of it, and cited a specimen. The Oxford Magazine had tran- 
 scribed 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 (Economy of Love. On the strength of all this he re- 
 commends that another volume of the Epistles should be pub- 
 lished immediately — being of opinion that the readers of the first 
 volume would be sure to purchase the second, and that the pub- 
 lication of the second would put it in the heads of others to buy 
 the first. Under a sentence containing one of these sanguine an- 
 ticipations, 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. Aristae- 
 netus 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 inferier in purity of diction, variety of subject, and 
 playfulness of irony. But neither of them ever deserved to be 
 wakened from that sleep, in which the commentaries of Bergler, 
 De Pauw, and a few more such industrious scholars Rave shroud- 
 ed them. 
 
 The translators of AristsBnetus, in rendering his flowery prose 
 into 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 
 
 * In one of the Reviews I have seen it thus spoken of ; — “ No such writer as Aristaene- 
 tus ever existed in the classic aera ; nor did even the unhappy schools, after the destruc- 
 tion of the Eastern empire, produce such a writer. It was left to the latter times of monk 
 ish imposition to give such trash as this, on which the translator has ill spent his tune. 
 We have been as idly employed in reading it, and our readers will in proportion lose then 
 time in perusing this article.” 
 
82 
 
 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 
 
 piece of fanciful mosaic, collected out of the 1 eve-letters of the 
 sophist Philostratus. But many of the narrations in Aristaenetus 
 are incapable of being elevated into poetry ; and, unluckily, these 
 familiar parts seem chiefly to have fallen* to the department of 
 Halhed, who 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 following extract from one of the Epistles 
 may be acceptable — as well from the singularity of the scene de- 
 scribed, as from the specimen it aflbrds of the merits of the 
 translation : 
 
 “ Listen — another pleasure I display, 
 
 That helped 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 in new meanders glides. 
 
 The forest brightens with refreshing tides. 
 
 Tow’rds us they taught the new-born stream to flow, 
 
 Tow’rds us it crept, irresolute and slow ; 
 
 Scarce had the infant current crickled by. 
 
 When lo ! a wondrous fleet attracts our eye ; 
 
 Laden with draughts might greet a monarch’s tongue. 
 
 The mimic navigation swam along. 
 
 Hasten, ye ship-like goblets, down the vale, 
 
 *Your freight a flagon, and a leaf your sail ; 
 
 0 may no envious rush thy course impede. 
 
 Or floating apple stop thy tide-born speed. 
 
 His mildest breath a gentle zephyr gave ; 
 
 The little vessels trimly stem’d the wave : 
 
 ' Their precious merchandise to land they bore. 
 
 And one by one resign’d the balmy store. 
 
 Stretch but a hand, we boarded them, and quaft 
 With native luxury the temper’d draught. 
 
 For where they loaded the nectareous fleet. 
 
 The goblet glow’d with too intense a heat ; 
 
 ♦ “ In the original, this luxurious image is pursued so fur that the very leaf which is 
 -epresented as the sail of the* vessel, is particularized as of a medicinal nature, capable 
 of preventing any ill cflects the wine might produce .” — JVote by the Translator. 
 
RIGHT HON. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 33 
 
 CooPd by degrees in these convivial ships, 
 
 With nicest taste it met our thirsty lips.^^ 
 
 As a scholar, such as Halhed, could hardly have been led into 
 ihe mistake, of supposing (puvjj 9UXX0V to mean “a leaf 
 
 of a medicinal nature,” we may, perhaps, from this circumstance 
 not less than from the superior workmanship of the verses, at- 
 tribute 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 vigor, 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, treacher- 
 ous 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 contrived to extract from the unmeaningness 
 of the original a direct allusion to his own fate ; and, forgetting 
 Aristasnetus and his dull personages, thinks only of himself, and 
 Sheridan, and Miss Linley. 
 
 Thee, then, my Mend, — 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 thee, dear, charming — fatal maid ! 
 
 (For me thou’st charmed, and me thou hast betray’d,) 
 
 This last request I need not recommend — 
 
 Forget the lover thou, as he the Mend. 
 
 Bootless such charge ! for ne’er did pity move 
 A heart that mock’d the suit of humble love, 
 
 2^ 
 
 VOL. I. 
 
34 
 
 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 
 
 Yet, in some thoughtful 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 ! 
 
 « * * « 
 
 My life has lost its aim ! — that fatal fair 
 Was all its object, all its hope or care : 
 
 She was the goal, to which my course was bent. 
 
 Where every wish, where every thought was sent ; 
 
 A secret influence darted from her eyes, — 
 
 Each look, attraction, and herself the prize. 
 
 Concentred there, I liv’d for her alone ; 
 
 To make her glad and to be blest was one. 
 ****** 
 
 Adieu, my friend, — nor blame this sad adieu. 
 
 Though sorrow guides my pen, it blames not you. 
 
 Forget me — ’tis my pray’r ; nor seek^to know 
 The fate of him whose portion must be woe, 
 
 ^ Till the cold earth outstretch her friendly arms. 
 
 And Death 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 profession threw upon both, naturally attracted round her a 
 crowd of admirers, 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, even from minds the most fastidious and delicate, that 
 
EIGHT HON. EICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 35 
 
 repugnance they might justly have felt to her profession, if she 
 had lived much longer under its tarnishing influence, or lost, by 
 frequent exhibitions before the public, that fine gloss of femi- 
 nine modesty, for whose absence not all the talents and accom- 
 plishments 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 breaking off* the alliance, and even indemnified the father, 
 who was proceeding 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 supporting her during the first years of 
 their marriage, spoke invariably of Mr. Long, who lived to a 
 very advanced age, with all th^ kindness and respect which such 
 a disinterested character merited. 
 
 It was about the middle of the year 1770 that the Sheridans 
 took up their residence in King’s Mead^ Street, Bath, where an 
 acquaintance commenced between them and Mr. Linley’s family, 
 which the kindred tastes of the young people soon ripened into 
 intimacy. It was not to be expected, — though parents, in gene- 
 ral, 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 musiciansf should come together without 
 Love very soon making one of the party. Accordingly the two 
 brothers became deeply enamored of Miss Linley. Her heart, 
 however, was not so wholly un-preoccupied as to yield at once 
 to the passion which her destiny had in store for her. One of 
 those transient preferences, wdiich in early youth are mistaken 
 
 * They also lived, during a part of their stay at Bath, m New Eling Street. 
 
 t Dr. Burney, in his Biographical Sketch of Mr. Linley, written for Rees’ Cyclopjcdia, 
 calls the Linley family “a nest of nightingales.” The only surviving member of this 
 accomplished family is Mr. William Linley, whose taste and talent, both in poetry and 
 tiiusic, most worthily sustain the reputation of the name that he bears. 
 
S6 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 
 
 foi* love, had already taken lively possession of her imagina- 
 tion ; and to this the following lines, written at that time by Mr. 
 Sheridan, allude : 
 
 TO THE RECORDING ANGEL. 
 
 Cherub of Heaven, that from my secret stand 
 Dost note the follies of each mortal here, 
 
 Oh, if Eliza’s steps employ thy hand, 
 
 Blot 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, when her sad attachment is her theme, 
 
 Note down the transports of her erring tongue. 
 
 But, when she sighs for sorrows not her own, 
 
 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 everything else, the power of a mind like 
 Sheridan’s must have made itself felt through all obstacles and 
 difficulties. He was not long in winning the entire affections of 
 tlie young “ Syren,’' though the number and w'ealth of his rivals, 
 the ambitious 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-observation 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 state of feverish wakefulness, it is remarka- 
 ble that he should so long have succeeded in concealing his 
 attachment from the eyes of those most interested in discovering 
 it. Even his brother Charles was for some time wholly unaware 
 of their rivalry, and went on securely indulging in a passion 
 which it was hardly possible, with such opportunities of inter- 
 course, to resist, and which survived long after Miss Linley’s 
 selection of another had extinguished every hope in his heart, but 
 that of seeing her happy. Halhed, too, who at that period cor- 
 responded constantly with Sheridan, and confided to him the 
 
BIGHT HON. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 37 
 
 love with which he also had been inspired by this enchantress^ 
 was for a length of time left in the same darkness upon the sub- 
 ject, and without the slightest suspicion that the epidemic had 
 reached his friend, whose only mode of evading the many ten- 
 der inquiries and messages with which Halhed’s letters abounded, 
 was by referring to answers which had by some strange fatality 
 miscarried, and which, we may conclude, without much unchari- 
 tableness, had never been written. 
 
 Miss Linley went frequently to Oxford, to perform at the 
 oratorios 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 dis- 
 turbed by the splendor of these ‘‘ angel visits. ” The letters of 
 Halhed give a lively idea, not only of his own intoxication, but 
 of the sort of contagious delirium, like that at Abdera described 
 by Lucian, with which the young men of Oxford were affected by 
 this beautiful girl. In describing 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 Sheri- 
 dan, notwithstanding his own fertility, to avail himself of the 
 thoughts of others, that we find in this extract, word for word, 
 the same extravagant comparison of the effects of music to the 
 process of Egyptian embalmment — “ extracting the brain through 
 the ears ” — which was afterwards transplanted into the dialogue 
 of the Duenna : “ Moj'tuum quondam ante ^gypti medici quarr. 
 pollincirent cerehella de aurihus unco quodam hamo solehant ex- 
 irahere ; sic de meis aurihus non cerebrum, sed cor ipsum exhausil 
 lusciniola, &c,, cfcc.” 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. Watts, a gen- 
 tleman commoner, of very large fortune. 
 
 While all hearts and tongues were thus occupied about Miss 
 Linley, it is not wonderful that rumors of matrimony and elope- 
 ment should, from time to time, circulate among her apprehen- 
 sive admirers ; or that the usual ill-compliment should be paid 
 to her sex of supposing that wealth must be the winner cf tiu’ 
 
38 
 
 MEMOIRS OE THE LIFE OF THE 
 
 prize. It was at one moment currently reported at Oxford that 
 she had gone off to Scotland with a young man of £3,000 a 
 year, and the panic which the intelligence spread is described in 
 one of these letters to Sheridan^ (whq, no doubt, shared in it) as 
 producing “ long faces ” everywhere. Not only, indeed, among 
 her numerous lovers, but among all who delighted in her public 
 performances, an alarm would naturally be felt at the prospect 
 of her becoming private property : 
 
 “ Te jug a Taygeti, posito te Mcenala jiehunt 
 Venatu^ mcestoque diu lugehere Cyntho, 
 
 Delphica quinetiam fratris deluhra tacehuntJ^* 
 
 Thee, thee, when hurried from our eyes away, 
 
 Laconia’s hills shall mourn for many a day — 
 
 ^ The Arcadian hunter shall forget his chase. 
 
 And turn aside to think upon that face ; 
 
 While many an hour Apollo’s songless shrine 
 Shall wait in silence for a voice like thine ! 
 
 But to the honor 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, Sheri- 
 dan, (whose advances in courtship and in knowledge seem to have 
 been equally noiseless and triumphant,) was the chosen favorite 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, f whose gifts were of a higher and 
 more radiant kind than the mere wealthy and lordly of this 
 world can proffer. A letter, written by Halhed on the prospect 
 of his departure for India, J alludes so delicately to this discovery, 
 
 ♦ Claudian. De Rapt. Proserp. Lib. ii. v. 244. 
 
 f “ 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. 
 
 J 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 
 nappineas. Mr. Halhed sailed for India about the latter end of this year. 
 
MGHT HON. RICHARD BiUNSLEY SHERIDAN. 
 
 and describes the state* of his own heart so mournfully, that I 
 must again, in parting with him and his correspondence, express 
 the strong regret that I feel at not being able to indulge the 
 reader with a perusal of these letters. Not 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 rea^l with the deepest interest. 
 
 To this perM of Mr. Sheridan’s life we are indebted for most 
 of those elegant love-verses, which are so well known and so 
 often quoted. TheAines “ Uncouth is this moss-covered grotto of 
 stone,” were addressed to Miss Linley, after having offended her 
 by one of those lectures upon decorum of conduct, which jealous 
 lovers so f/.cquently inflict upon their mistresses, — and the grotto, 
 immortaljAed by their quarrel, is supposed to have been hi Spring 
 Gardens, Ihen the fashionable place of resort in Bath. 
 
 I have elsewhere remarked that the conceit in the following 
 resembles a thought in some verses of Angerianus : — 
 
 And thou, stony grot, in thy arch may’st preserve 
 Two lingering drops of the night-fallen dew, 
 
 Let them fall on her bosom of snow, and theydl serve 
 As tears of my sorrow entrusted to you. 
 
 At quum per niveam cervicem influxerit humor 
 Dicite non roris sed pluvia hcec lacrimce. 
 
 Whether Sheridan was likely to have been a reader of Ange- 
 rianus is, I think, doubtful — at all events the coincidence is curious. 
 
 “ Dry be that tear, my gentlest love,” is supposed to have 
 been written at a later period ; but it was most probably pro- 
 duced at the time of his courtship, for he wrote but few love 
 verses after his marriage — like the nightingale (as a French 
 editor of Bonefonius says, in remarking a similar circumstance of 
 that poet) ‘‘ qui developpe le charme de sa voix tant qu’il vent 
 plaire a sa compagne — sont-ils unis ? il se tait, il n’a plus le be- 
 soin de lui plaire.” This song having been hitherto printed in- 
 correctly, I shall give it here, as it is in the copies preserved by 
 his relations. 
 
40 
 
 MEMOIRS OP THE LIFE OF THE 
 
 Dry be that tear, my gentlest love,* 
 
 Be hush’d that struggling sigh. 
 
 Nor seasons, day, nor fate shall prove 
 More fix’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. 
 
 That he who only breathed for you. 
 
 Must yield that faithful breath? 
 
 Hush’d be that sigh, be dry that tear. 
 
 Nor let us lose our Heaven here. — 
 
 Dry be that tear. 
 
 There is in the second stanza here a close resemblance to one 
 of the madrigals of Montreuil, 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.”f Mr. Sheridan, however, knew 
 nothing of French, and neglected every opportunity of learning 
 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 derived the thought of this stanza, in one of the 
 essays of Hume, who, being a reader of foreign literature, most 
 
 * An Elegy by Halhed, transcribed in one of his letters to Sheridan, begins thus 
 “ Dry be that tear, be hush’d that struggling sigh.” 
 f The grief that on my quiet preys, 
 
 That rends my heart and checks my longue, 
 
 I fear will last me all my days. 
 
 And feel it will not last me long. 
 
 It is thus in Montreuil . 
 
 C’est un mal que j’aurai tout le terns de ma vie 
 Mais je ne I’aurai pas long-terns. 
 
RIGHT HOH. RlCHARi) BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 41 
 
 probably found it In Montreuil."^ 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 
 Caelia, can I resolve the question ? I)o I know how long my life 
 shall yet endure 
 
 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 Fordyce, 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 Picture,” in which Lady Margaret was thus intro- 
 duced : 
 
 “ Remark too the dimpling, sweet smile 
 Lady Margaret’s fine countenance wears.” 
 
 The following is the passage in Mr. Sheridan’s poem, entire ; 
 and the beauty of the six favorite lines shines out so conspicuously, 
 that we cannot wonder at their having been so soon detached, 
 like ill-set gems, from the loose and clumsy workmanship around 
 them. 
 
 But, hark ! — did not our bard repeat 
 The love-born name of M-rg-r-t ? — 
 
 Attention seizes every ear ; 
 
 We pant for the description here : 
 
 If ever dulness left thy brow, 
 
 ‘ Pindar,’’ we say, ^ ’twill leave thee now.^ 
 
 But 0 ! old Dulness’ son anointed 
 His mother never disappointed! — 
 
 And here we all were left to seek 
 A dimple in F-rd-ce’s cheek ! 
 
 * Or in an Italian song of Menage, from which Montreuil, who w'’^ 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 I’ardore 
 « * 4 : « ♦ 
 
 Chi lo potrebbe dire ? 
 
 Incerta, o Filli, e I’ora del morire 
 
 f The Epicurean. 
 
42 memoirs of tSe life of the 
 
 And could you really discover, 
 
 In gazing those sweet beauties over, 
 
 No other charm, no winning grace. 
 
 Adorning either mind or face. 
 
 But one poor dimple to express 
 The quintessence of loveliness ? 
 
 Mark’d you her cheek of rosy hue? 
 
 Mark’d 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 not move. 
 
 Now P alias the Queen of Love !” 
 
 There is little else in this poem worth being extracted, tnougn 
 it consists of about four hundred lines ; except, perhaps, his pic- 
 ture of a good country housewife, which affords an early speci- 
 men of that neat pointedness of phrase, which gave his humor, 
 both poetic and dramatic, such a peculiar edge and polish : — 
 
 ‘‘We see the Dame, in rustic pride, 
 
 A bunch 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 hallowed mixture thickens. 
 
 Signing death-warrants for the chickens : 
 
 Else, greatly pensive, poring o’er 
 Accounts her cook had thumbed before ; 
 
 One eye cast up upon that great book, 
 
 Yclep’d The Family Receipt Book ; 
 
 By which she’s ruled in all her courses. 
 
 From stewing figs to drenching horses. 
 
 — Then pans and pickling skillets rise. 
 
 In dreadful lustre, to our eyes, 
 
 With store of sweetmeats, rang’d in order, 
 
 And potted nothings on the border ; 
 
 While salves and caudle-cups between. 
 
 With squalling children, close the scene.’^ 
 
HI^HT HON. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 43 
 
 We find here, too, the source of one of those familiar lines, 
 which so many quote without knowing whence they come ; — one 
 of those stray fragments, whose parentage is doubtful, but to 
 which (as the law says of illegitimate children) pater est pop- 
 ulusP 
 
 You write with ease, to show your breeding, 
 
 Blit easy writing's curst hard reading,^^ 
 
 In the following passage, with more of the tact of a man of the 
 world than the ardor of a poet, he dismisses the object nearest 
 his heart with the mere passing gallantry of a compliment : — 
 
 0 ! should your genius 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. 
 
 Though Phoebus play’d and Linley 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 af- 
 ter, that Crutwell, the editor, was induced to publish it in a sepa- 
 rate form. The allusions in this trifle have, of course, lost their 
 zest by time ; and a specimen or two of its humor will be all 
 that necessary 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, 
 
 Wity drops hanging down like the bobs at Peg’s ears : 
 
 While jewels of paste reflected the rays. 
 
 And Bristol-stone diamonds gave strength to the blaze ; 
 
44 
 
 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 
 
 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 besides quality there : 
 
 Miss Sjpiggot, 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 Peg Runt, with her tight little sister,* rfec. &c. 
 
MOHT HON. KIOHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 45 
 
 OHAPTBE II. 
 
 DUELS WITH MR. MATHEWS. — MARRIAGE WITH 
 MISS LINLEY. 
 
 Towards the close of the year 1771, the elder Mr. Sheridan 
 went to 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 inter- 
 est than that of having been written at such a period, will not, 
 perhaps, be unwelcome to the reader : — 
 
 •‘My Dear Richard, Dublin, Dec. 1771. 
 
 “ How could you be so wrong-headed as to commence cold 
 bathing at such a season 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 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 wanting, apply to Dr. Nesbitt, and tell him at leaving Bath 
 I recommended you all to his care. This indeed I intended to 
 have mentioned to him, but it slipped my memory. I forgot Mr 
 Crook’s bill, too, but desire I may have the amount by the next 
 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 
 ^y future omissions. I suppose Charles received my answer to 
 
46 
 
 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 
 
 his, and the 20Z. 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, &c. but 
 shall write to you upon that head when I get a little leisure. No 
 thing can be conceived in a more deplorable state than the stage 
 of Dublin. 1 found two miserable companies opposing and 
 starving each other. I chose the 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 with 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 parties very zealous for 
 forwarding my scheme, and have reason to believe it will be car 
 ried in parliament after the recess, without opposition. It was in 
 vain to have attempted it before, for never was party violence* 
 carried to such a height as in this sessions ; . the House seldom 
 breaking up till eleven or twelve at night. From these contests, 
 the desire of improving in the article of elocution is become very 
 general. There are no less than five persons of rank and for- 
 tune now waiting my leisure to become my pupils. Eemember 
 me to all friends, particularly to our good landlord and landlady. 
 I am, with love and blessing to you all, 
 
 ‘‘Your affectionate hither, 
 
 “Thomas Sheridan. 
 
 “ P. S. — Tell your sisters I shall send the poplins as soon as 
 can get an opportunity.’’ 
 
 “Dear Father, 
 
 “We have been for some time in hopes of receiving a setter, 
 that we might know that you had acquitted us of neglect in 
 A\Titin^. At the same time we imao:ine that the time is not far 
 
 o o 
 
 The money-bill, brought forward this year under Lord Townsend’s adminisiratiort^ 
 encountered violent opposition, and was finally rejected. 
 
EIGHT HON. KICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 47 
 
 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 in- 
 tended. 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 Dub- 
 lin 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 wiU 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 
 departing, were I not now writing after dinner by daylight. In- 
 deed the first winter-season is not yet over at Bath. They have 
 balls, concerts, &c. at the rooms, from the old subscription still, 
 and the spring ones are immediately 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 there has not been the small- 
 est excuse to take a gun into the fields this winter ; — a point more 
 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 mourn- 
 ers, we were* easily provided. Our acquaintances stand pretty 
 much the same as when you left^s, — only that I tliink in general 
 we are less intimate, by which I believe you will not tliinlc us 
 great losers. Indeed, excepting Mr. Wyndham, I have not met 
 with one person with whom I would v/ish to be 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 
 
48 
 
 MEMOIEB OF THE LIFE OF THE 
 
 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 shall always have prudence to avoid. 
 
 “ Lissy begins to be tormented again with the tooth-ache 
 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 improvemeut 
 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 fur- 
 ther, wisely determined to fly from the struggle altogether. 
 Having taken a solemn farewell of her in a letter, which his 
 )^oungest 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 reluc- 
 tantly 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 im- 
 portunity of his courtship, made an explanation on all sides ne- 
 cessary. 
 
 Captain Mathews, a married man and intimate with Miss Lin- 
 ley ’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 atten- 
 tions in public, but had even persecuted her in private w^ith those 
 unlawful addresses and prop(*als, wdiich a timid female wdll 
 sometimes rather endure, than encounter that share of the shame, 
 which may be reflected upon herself by their disclosure. To the 
 threat of self-destruction, 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 oi 
 
BIGHT HON. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 49 
 
 her father’s temper, if this violation of his confidence and hospi- 
 tality were exposed to him, she at length confided her distresses 
 to Richard Sheridan ; who, having consulted with his sister, and, 
 foi the first time, disclosed to her the state of his heart with re- 
 spect to Miss Linley, lost no time in expostulating with Mathews, 
 upon the cruelty, libertinism, and fruitlessness of his pursuit. 
 Such a remonstrance, however, was but little calculated to con- 
 ciliate the forbearance of this professed man of gallantry, who, 
 it appears by the following allusion to him under the name of Lo- 
 thario, in a poem written by Sheridan at the time, still counted 
 upon the possibility of gaining his object, or, at least, blighting 
 the fruit which he could not reach : — 
 
 Nor spare the flirting Cassoc^d rogue , 
 
 Nor ancient Cullin^s polish’d brogue ; 
 
 Nor gay Lothario^ s nobler name, 
 
 That Nimrod to all female fame. 
 
 In consequence of this persecution, and an increasing dislike to 
 her profession, w^hich 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, — in- 
 tending, 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 probable, had been the chief adviser of her flight, was, of 
 course, not slow in oflering to be the pa;rtner of it. His sister, 
 whom he seems to have persuaded that his conduct in this aflliir 
 arose solely from a wish to serve Miss Linley, as a friend, with- 
 out any design or desire to take advantage of her elopement, as 
 a lover, not only assisted them 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 con- 
 cert, from which the young Cecilia herself had been, on a plea of 
 VOL. I. 3 
 
60 
 
 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 
 
 illness, excused, — she was conveyed by Sheridan in a sedan-chair 
 from her father’s house in the Crescent, 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 Mi- 
 nerva, 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 ; — in consequence of which the old gentleman, 
 with many commendations of his wisdom for having given up 
 the imprudent pursuit of Miss Linley, not only accommodated 
 the fugitives with a passage on board a ship, which he had ready 
 to sail from the port of London to Dunkirk, but gave them let- 
 ters of recommendation to his correspondents at that place, 
 who with the same zeal and dispatch facilitated their journey 
 to Lisle. 
 
 On their leaving Dunkirk, as was natural to expect, the chival- 
 rous and disinterested protector degenerated into a mere sel- 
 fish lover. It was represented by him, with arguments which 
 seemed to appeal to 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, re- 
 solved not to deposit her in a convent till she had consented, by 
 the ceremony of a marriage, to confirm to him that right of 
 protecting her, which he 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, they were married about the 
 latter end of March, 1772, by a priest well known for his ser- 
 vices 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. Quentin, procured an apartment in a convent, with 
 
RIGHT HON. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 51 
 
 the determination 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 surprised, too, to be 
 told that, except your letter just 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. Everything on our 
 side’ has at last succeeded. Miss L is now fixing in a con- 
 
 vent, w^here 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. She has been ill, but is 
 now recovered ; this, too, has delayed me. W e would have 
 wrote, but have been kept in the most tormenting expectation, 
 *from day to day, of receiving your letters ; but as everything 
 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, I 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 anything should tempt me to depart, even 
 in a thought, from the honor and consistency which engaged 
 
 me at first. I wrote to M ^ above a w^eek ago, which, 1 
 
 think, w^as necessary and right. I hope he has acted the one 
 proper part which w^as 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 
 Coesar, &c. — if I delay one moment longer, I lose the post. 
 
 I have writ now, too, to Mr. Adams, and should apologize 
 
 ♦ Malliew^* UNIVERSITY OF lU.ii'.Or. 
 
 LWRARV 
 
52 
 
 MEMOIKS OF THE LIFE OF THE 
 
 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 affect. Brother, 
 
 “ R. B. Sheridan. 
 
 “ 1 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 days after her retirement to the convent; but an Engl i si i 
 physician. Dr. Dolman, of York, who happened to be resident 
 at 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 recon- 
 ciling him to his truant daughter, Mr. Linley insisted upon her 
 returning with him immediately 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 se-t 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 break 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. Mathews, 
 inquiring at the house every particular of the afiair, 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 expres- 
 
RIGHT HOK. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 63 
 
 sions-of anger against his brother, which this gentleman, who 
 seems to have been eminently qualified for a certain line of cha- 
 racters indispensable in all romances, treasured up in his memo- 
 ry, and, as it will appear, afterwards availed himself of them. For 
 the four or five weeks during which the young couple were ab- 
 sent, he never ceased to haunt the Sheridan family, with inquiries, 
 rumors, and other disturbing visitations ; and, at length, urged on 
 by the restlessness of revenge, inserted the following violent ad- 
 vertisement in the Bath Chronicle : 
 
 “ Wednesday, April 8^7i, 1772. 
 
 “ Mr. Richard having attempted, in a letter left be- 
 
 hind him for that purpose, to account for his scandalous method 
 of running away from this place, by insinuations derogating from 
 WAj character, and that 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 trouble myself no 
 further about him than, in this public method, to post him as a 
 and a treacherous 
 
 “ And as I am convinced there have been many malevolent in- 
 cendiaries concerned in the propagation of this infamous lie, if 
 any of them, unprotected by age^ infirmities, or profession, will 
 dare to acknowledge the part they have acted, and affirm to what 
 they have said of me, they may depend on receiving the proper 
 reward of their villany, in the most public 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; — a charge which the latter with indignation re- 
 pelled, and was only prevented by the sudden departure of Ma^ 
 
54 
 
 MEMOlES Ot THE LIFE OF THE 
 
 thews to London from calling him to a more serious account for 
 the falsehood. 
 
 At this period the party from the Continent arrived ; and as a 
 detail 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. Mathews, — it would be little better than 
 profanation to communicate them in any other words. 
 
 “It has ever been esteemed impertinent to appeal to the pub- 
 lic in concerns 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 the same affair, are my only apologies for the 
 following lines: — 
 
 “ Mr. T. Mathews thought himself essentially injured by Mr. 
 
 R. Sheridan’s having co-operated in the virtuous efforts of a 
 young lady to escape the snares of vice and dissimulation. He 
 wrote several most abusive threats to Mr. S., then in France. 
 He labored, with a cruel industry, to vilify his character in Eng- 
 land. He publicly posted him as a scoundrel and a liar. Mr. 
 
 S. answered him from France (hurried and surprised), 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 anything pass be- 
 tween him and Mr. M. till he had arrived thither. Mr. S. came 
 to Mr. Cochlin’s, in Crutched 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, com- 
 
RIGHT HON. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 65 
 
 plained of the cold, endeavored 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 re- 
 venge. 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 ‘ de- 
 prive 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 seen a man behave so perfectly das- 
 tardly. Mr. M. detained Mr. S. till seven o’clock the next morn- 
 ing. 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.^^^^^^^”t 
 
 On his arrival in Bath, (whither he travelled with Miss Linley 
 and her father,) Sheridan lost not a moment in ascertaining the 
 falsehood of the charge against his brother. While Charles, how- 
 ever, indignantly denied the flagitious conduct imputed to him by 
 Mathews, 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 sub- 
 ject which should concern so few. 
 
 t The remainder of this paper is omitled, as only briefly referring to circumstances 
 which wiU be found more minutely detailed in another document. 
 
56 
 
 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 
 
 “ I find Mr. Mathews’s behavior to have been such that I can 
 not be satisfied with his concession^ as a consequence of an expla- 
 nation 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 meet- 
 ing the next day was the consequence, which ended in those ad- 
 vertisements and the letter to you. As for Mr. Mathews’s honor 
 or spirit in this whole affair, I shall only add that a few hours 
 may ppssibly give some proof of the latter ; while, in my own 
 justification, 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 counter-ordered the advertisements that were 
 agreed on, as T think even an explanation w'ould now misbecome 
 me ; an agreement to them was the effect more of mere charity 
 than judgment. As I find it necessary to make all my senti- 
 ments as public as possible, your declaring this will greatly oblige 
 “Sat. 12 o’clock, “ Your very humble Servant, 
 
 May 2d, 1772. • “ R. B. Sheridan.” 
 
 “ 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 be- 
 fore, 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 suspense under which they labored. She, how- 
 ever, 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. 
 
RIGHT HON. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 57 
 
 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 ne addressed to Captain Knight, the second of 
 Mathews, soon after the subsequent duel in Bath. 
 
 “ Sir, 
 
 On the evening preceding my last meeting with Mr. Mathews, 
 Mr. Barnett"'^ produced a paper to me, written by Mr. Mathews, 
 containing an account of our former meetings in London. As 1 
 had before frequently heard of Mr. Mathews’s relation of that 
 affair, without interesting 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 contains much misrepresen- 
 tation, 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, 1 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 sup- 
 port the truth of the account shown by Mr. Mathews. Give me 
 leave previously to relate what I have affirmed to have been a 
 real state of our meeting in London, and which I am now ready 
 to support on my honor, or my oath, as the best account I can 
 give of Mr. Mathews’s relation is, that it is almost directly op- 
 posite to mine. 
 
 “ Mr. Ewart accompanied me to Hyde Park, about six in the 
 evening, where we met you and Mr. Mathews, and we walked 
 together to the ring. — Mr. Mathews refusing to make any other 
 acknowledgment than he had done, I observed that we were 
 come to the ground : Mr. Mathews objected to the spot, and ap- 
 pealed 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 
 
 * The friend of Mathews in the second duel. 
 
 VOL. I. 
 
58 
 
 Memoirs oe the life of the 
 
 pistols). Mr. Ewart observed 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. Mathews 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 w^e returned. — I again drew my sword ; 
 Mr. Mathews 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 ne- 
 cessary for him to retire to the gate, where we had a chaise and 
 four, which was equally at his service. Mr. Mathews declared 
 that 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 engaged 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 mean time, had returned towards the gate : Mr. 
 Ewart and I called to you, and followed. W e returned to the Her- 
 cules’ Pillars, and went from thence, by agreement, to the Bedford 
 Coffee House, where, the master being alarmed, you came and con- 
 ducted 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, Uiont kill I struggled to disengage my arm, and said 
 
 his sword was in my power. Mr. Mathews called out twice or 
 thrice, ‘ / heg my life.’’ — We were parted. You immediately 
 said, ‘ there^ he has begged his life, and now there is an end of it f 
 and, on Mr. Ewart saying that, when his sword was in my power, 
 as I attempted no more you should not have interfered, you re- 
 plied that you were wrong ^ but 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 ad- 
 
HlGHl? HON. KiCHAHD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 59 
 
 vantage ; you declared that ‘ before you did so, both the swords 
 were in Mr. Sheridan’s power.’ Mr. Mathews still seemed re- 
 solved to give it another turn, and observed that he had nevei 
 quitted his sword. — Provoked at this, I then swore (with too much 
 heat, perhaps) that he should either give up his sword and 1 would 
 break it, or go to his guard again. He refused — but, on my per- 
 sisting, 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 with 
 mine, gave my honor that what had passed should never be men- 
 tioned by me, and he might now right himself again. He re- 
 plied that he ^ would never draw a sword against the man who had 
 given him his life ;’ — but, on his still exclaiming against the in- 
 dignity of breaking his sword (which he had brought upon him- 
 self), Mr. Ewart offered him the pistols, and some altercation pass- 
 ed 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, dec. dec. 
 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, whether 
 (as he had expressed himself sensible of, and shocked at the in- 
 justice 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 sup- 
 posed 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 with much 
 ill-grace, he gave the apology, which afterwards appeared. We 
 parted, and I returned immediately to Bath. I, there, to Colonel 
 Gould, Captain Wade, Mr. Creaser, and others, mentioned the af- 
 fair 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 1 found the whole aflair had been stated in a different 
 
60 
 
 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 
 
 light, and insinuations given out to the same purpose as in the par 
 per, which has occasioned this trouble. I had undoubted author- 
 ity that these accounts proceeded from Mr. Mathews, and like- 
 wise that Mr. Knight had never had any share in them. I then 
 thought I no longer owed Mr. Mathews the compliment to con- 
 ceal any circumstance, and I related the affair to several gentle- 
 men 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 ad^ 
 vanced 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 afflrms he did not. 
 
 “ Did I break his sword without warning ? — He afflrms I did it 
 without 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 gene- 
 rosity, on my desisting to demand it ? — He afflrms he did. 
 
 “ I shall now give my reasons for doubting your having au- 
 thenticated this paper. 
 
 “ 1. Because I think it full of falsehood and misrepresentation, 
 and Mr. Knight has the character of a man of truth and honor. 
 
 “ 2. When you were at Bath, I was informed that you had 
 never expressed any such sentiments. 
 
 “3. I have been told that, in Wales, Mr. Mathews never told 
 his story in the presence of Mr. Knight, who had never there in- 
 sinuated any thing 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 con. 
 
EIGHT HON. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 61 
 
 tains 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 honor 
 he knew nothing about, nor should ever make the least use of. 
 
 “ These, sir, are my reasons for applying to yourself, in prefe- 
 rence to any appeal to Mr. Ewart, my second on that occasion, 
 which is what I would wish to avoid. As for Mr. Mathews’s as- 
 sertions, I shall never be concerned at them. I have ever avoided 
 any verbal altercation with that gentleman, and he has now se- 
 cured 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 bro- 
 thers, who entered evidently much fatigued, not having been in 
 bed since they left home, and produced the apology of Mr. Ma- 
 thews, which was instantly sent to Crutwell for insertion. It was 
 in the following terms: — 
 
 “ Being convinced that the expressions I made use of to Mr. 
 Sheridan’s disadvantage were the effects of passion and misrepre- 
 sentation, I retract what I have said to that gentleman’s disad- 
 vantage, and particularly beg his pardon for my advertisement in 
 the Bath Chronicle. 
 
 ‘^Thomas Mathews.”* 
 
 With the odor 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, accord- 
 ing to circumstances, either the noblest effort of manliness or the 
 last resource of fear, and it was evident, from the reception which 
 
 * This appeared in the Bath Chronicle of May 7th. In another part of tlie same paper 
 there is the following paragraph : “ We can with authority contradict the account in the 
 London Evening Post of last night, of a duel between Mr. M-t-ws and Mr. S— r— n, as 
 to the time and event of their meeting, Mr. S. having been at his place on Saturday, and 
 both these gentlemen being here at present.” 
 
62 
 
 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 
 
 this gentlemau 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 neighborhood, observing with pain the mor- 
 tifications to which he was exposed, and perhaps thinking them, in 
 some degree, unmerited, took upon him to urge earnestly the ne- 
 cessity of a second meeting with Sheridan, as the only means of 
 removing the stigma left by the first ; and, with a degree of Irish 
 friendliness, not forgotten in the portrait of Sir Lucius O’Trigger, 
 offered himself to be the bearer of the challenge. The despera- 
 tion of persons, in Mr. Mathews’s circumstances, is in general 
 much more formidable than the most acknowledged valor ; 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 Ire- 
 land, and had been with some little difficulty induced to forgive 
 his son for the wild achievements he had been engaged in during 
 his absence, was at this time in London, making arrangements 
 for the departure of his favorite, Charles, who, through the inter- 
 est of Mr. Wheatley, an old friend of the family, had been ap- 
 pointed Secretary to the E nbassy 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. Barnett, with rather unnecessary cruelty, into the hands of 
 Miss Sheridan, under the pretext, however, that it was a note of 
 invitation for her brother, and on the following morning, before it 
 was quite daylight, the parties met at Kingsdown — Mr. Mathews, 
 attended by his neighbor Mr. Barnett, and Sheridan by a gentle- 
 man 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 1 shall here subjoin, was drawn 
 up some months after, by the second of Mr. Mathews, and de- 
 posited in the hands of Captain Wade, the master of thecer^ 
 
RIGHT HON. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 63 
 
 monies. Though somewhat partially colored, and (according to 
 Mr. Sheridan’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 ap- 
 pears by the following letter from Mr. Brereton, (another of 
 Mr. Sheridan’s intimate 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. Mathews, it seems he obtained from Mr. Barnett an im- 
 partial relation of the last affair with Mr. Sheridan, directed to 
 you. This account Mr. Paumier has seen, and I, at Mr. Ma- 
 thews’s desire, inquired from him if he thought it true and im- 
 partial : he says it differs, in a few immaterial circumstances only, 
 from his opinion, and has given me authority to declare this to 
 you. 
 
 “ I am, dear Sir, 
 
 “ Your most humble and obedient servant, 
 
 (Signed) “ William Brereton. 
 
 “ Bath, Oct. 24, 1772.” 
 
 Copy of a Paper left hy Mr. Barnett in the hands of Captain 
 William Wade, 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 pre- 
 liminaries I thought ought to be settled in an affair which was 
 likely to end very seriously ; — particularly the method of using 
 their pistols, which Mr. Mathews had repeatedly signified his de- 
 sire to use prior to swords, from a conviction that Mr. Sheridan 
 would run in on him, and an ungentlemanlike scuffle probably be 
 the consequence. This, however, was refused by Mr. Sheridan, 
 declaring he had no pistols : Captain Paumier replied he had a 
 brace (which I know were loaded). — By my advice, Mr. Ma- 
 thews’s were -not loaded^ as I imagined it was always customary 
 
64 
 
 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 
 
 fco load on the field, which I mentioned to Captain Paumier at the 
 White-IIart, before we went out, and desired he would draw his 
 pistols. He replied, as they were already loaded, and they go- 
 ing 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 honor draw them, which I am convinced he would 
 have done had there been time ; but Mr. Sheridan immediately 
 drev,^ his sword, and, in a vaunting manner, desired Mr. . Mathews 
 to draw (their ground was very uneven, and near the post-chaises). 
 — 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. Ma- 
 thews, laying himself exceedingly open, and endeavoring to get 
 hold of Mr. Mathews’s sword ; Mr. Mathews received him on 
 his point, and, I believe, disengaged his sword from Mr. Sheri- 
 dan’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. Mathews 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 re- 
 maining 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 turned to the combatants, who were much in the same 
 situation : I found Mr. Sheridan’s sword was bent, and he slip 
 ped 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 
 
Hmm HON. RICHARD BRIKSLEY SHERIDAN. 65 
 
 up. rie in the same moment called out, * Oh ! he is killed, he is 
 killed !’ — I as quick as possible turned again, and found Mr. Ma- 
 thews had recovered the point of his sword, that was before on 
 the ground, with which he had wounded Mr. Sheridan in the 
 belly : I saw him drawing the p^)int out of the wound. By this 
 time Mr. Sheridan’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 ef- 
 fect), 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 honor 
 of a gentleman, to be exactly true; and that Mr. Mathews discover- 
 ed 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 party, — which a 
 stranger was judged the most proper to do, — particularly as Mr. 
 Mathews had been blamed before for takmg a relation with him 
 on a similar occasion. 
 
 (Signed) “William Barnett.'* 
 
 “ October, 1772.” 
 
 The following account is given as an “ Extract of a Letter from Bath,” in the St. James’s 
 Chronicle, July 4 : “Young Sheridan and Captain Mathews of this town, who lately had 
 a rencontre in a tavern in London, upon account of the maid of Bath, Miss Linley, have 
 had another this morning upon Kingsdown, about four miles hence Sheridan is much 
 wounded, but whether mortally or not is yet uncertain. Both their swords breaking upon 
 the first lunge, they threw each other dovsm, and with the broken pieces hacked at each 
 Mher, rolling upon the ground, the seconds standing by, quiet spectators. Mathews is 
 
66 
 
 MEMOIRS OE THE LIFE OF THE 
 
 The comments whi;h 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, dis- 
 prove anything 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 docu- 
 ment which he himself thought worth preserving, it is here in- 
 serted. 
 
 “ To William Barnett, 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 impro- 
 priety. 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 pre- 
 tence of vindicating your friend. However, as it is the opinion 
 of some of my friends, that I ought not to suffer these papers to 
 pass wholly unnoticed, I shall make a few observations on them 
 with that moderation which becomes one who is highly conscious 
 of the impropriety of staking his single assertion against the ap- 
 parent testimony of three. This, I say, would be an impropriety, 
 as I am supposed to write to those who are not acquainted with 
 the parties. I had some time ago a copy of these papers from 
 Captain Wade, who informed me that they were lodged in his 
 hands, to be made public only by judicial authority. I wrote to 
 
 but slightly wounded, and is since gone off.” The Bath Chronicle, on the day after the 
 duel, (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. Sheridan, on Kings- 
 lown, near this city, in consequence of their former dispute respecting an amiable young 
 lady, which Mr. M. considered as improperly adjusted ; 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.” 
 
RIGHT HON. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 67 
 
 you, Sir, on the subject, to have from yourself an avowal that 
 the account was yours ; but as I received no answer, I have rea- 
 son to compliment you with the supposition that you are not the 
 author of it. However, as the name William Barnett is sub- 
 scribed to it, you must accept my apologies for making use of 
 that as the ostensible signature cf the writer — Mr. Paumier like- 
 wise (the gentleman who went out with me on that occasion in 
 the character of a second) having assented to everything material 
 in it, I shall suppose the whole account likewise to be his ; and as 
 there are some circumstances which could come from no one but 
 Mr. Mathews, I shall (without meaning to take from its au- 
 thority) suppose it to be Mr. Mathews’s also. 
 
 “ As it is highly indilferent 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 those 
 observations just in the same manner as I conceive any indiffer- 
 ent person of common sense, who should think it worth his while 
 to peruse the matter with any degree of attention. In this light, 
 the truth of the articles which are asserted 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 that there are some positive facts 
 against it, wb’ch do not depend upon any one’s assertion, I must 
 repeat that I shall either compliment Mr. Barnett’s judgment, in 
 supposing it not his, or his humanity in proving the narrative to 
 partake of that confusion and uncertainty, which his well-wishers 
 will plead to have possessed him in the transaction. On this ac- 
 count, what I shall say on the subject need be no further address- 
 ed 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. Barnett’s narrative that is of the least 
 consequence to take notice of, is, w'here Mr. M. is represented as 
 having repeatedly signified his desire to use pistols prior to swords, 
 
68 
 
 MEMOIRS OF O^HE LIFE OF THE 
 
 from a conviction 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. Ma- 
 thews : 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 insinuation bears an 
 obscure allusion to a past transaction of Mr. M.’s, I doubt not 
 but he will be surprised at my indifference in not taking the trou- 
 ble even to explain it. However, I cannot forbear to observe 
 here, that had I, at the period which this passage alludes to, known 
 what was the theory which Mr. M. held of gentlemanly scuffle^ I 
 might, possibly, have been so unhappy as to 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 Cap- 
 tain 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 ac- 
 quainted with my determination with regard to pistols before we 
 went on the Down, nor could I have expected it to have been pro- 
 posed. ‘ Mr. M. drew ; Mr. S. advanced, &c. — here let me re- 
 mind Mr. B. of a circumstance, which I am convinced his memory 
 will 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 
 common 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 demeanor is generally regulated by their idea 
 of their antagonist, and, for what I know, I 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 oc- 
 casion, yet which is a material point in an exact account of such 
 
EIGHT HOH. EICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 69 
 
 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 * 
 
 ** **** * *** * ^ 
 
 “ M. B.’s account proceeds, that I ‘ advanced first on Mr. M.,’ 
 &c. &c. ; ‘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 ail, uncertain. ^ ^ ^ ^ But of all times Mr. B. could not 
 have chosen a worse than this for Mr. M.’s sword 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 informed, 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 White-Hart ; where 
 Ditcher and Sharpe, the most eminent surgeons of Bath, attended 
 and dressed his wounds, — and, on the follomng day, at the re- 
 quest of his sisters, he was carefully removed to his own home. 
 The newspapers which contained the account of the affair, and 
 even stated that Sheridan’s life was in danger, reached the Lin- 
 leys at Oxford, during the performance, but were anxiously con 
 cealed from Miss Linley by her father, who knew that the intel- 
 ligence would totally disable her from appearing. Some persons 
 who were witnesses of the performance 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 be- 
 fallen 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 
 
 f It IS impossible to make any connected sense of the passage that follo\y^. 
 
70 
 
 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 
 
 family, who, taking her from her father’s chaise into his own, em- 
 ployed the rest of the journey in cautiously breaking to her the 
 particulars of the alarming event that had occurred. Notwith- 
 standing this precaution, 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 hus- 
 band !” — 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, re- 
 fused for some time even to see him, and strictly forbade all in- 
 tercourse between his daughters 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 
 they, accordingly, contrived to communicate intelligence of the 
 lovers to each other. 
 
 In the following letter, addressed to him by Charles at this time, 
 we can trace that difference between the dispositions of the bro- 
 thers, which, with every one except their father, rendered Eichard, 
 in spite of all his faults, by far the most popular and beloved of 
 the two. 
 
 “Dear Dick, London^ July 3c?, 1772. 
 
 “It was with the deepest concern I received the late ac- 
 counts 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 re- 
 solved to believe the best, and to suppose you safe, but then we 
 neither of us could approve of the cause in w^hich 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 opin- 
 ion 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 
 
BIGHT HON. KICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 71 
 
 your friends were of opinion you could, with the greatest pro- 
 priety, have refused to meet him. For my part, I shall suspend 
 my judgment till better informed, only I cannot forgive your pre- 
 ferring swords. 
 
 “ I am exceedingly unhappy at the situation I leave you in with 
 respect 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 drawing for the last 20Z. — I own, I think with 
 some reason. 
 
 “ As to old Ewart, what you were talking about is absolutely 
 impossible ; he is already surprised 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 wiiting, I must therefore 
 conclude, with wishing you speedily restored to health, and that 
 if I could make your purse as whole as that will shortly be, I 
 hope, it would make me exceedingly happy. 
 
 “ 1 am, dear Dick, yours sincerely, 
 
 “ C. F. Sheridan.” 
 
 Finding that the suspicion of their marriage, which Miss Lin- 
 ley’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 anxious period with her relations at Wells,) 
 cautioning her against being led into any acknowledgment, which 
 might further the views of the elders against their happiness. 
 Many methods were tried upon both sides, to ensnare them into a 
 confession of this nature ; but they eluded every effort, and per- 
 sisted in attributing the avowal which had escaped from Miss 
 Linley, before Mr. Panton, and others, to the natural agitation 
 and bewilderment into which her mind was thrown at the in- 
 stant. 
 
72 
 
 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 
 
 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 Es- 
 sex, 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 Sep- 
 tember, 1772, till the spring of the following year, it is probable 
 that, notwithstanding the ferment in which his heart was kept, he 
 occasionally and desultorily occupied 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 ob- 
 jects 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 27 with them :” (upon which phrase 
 he remarks, “ It refers to nothing here :”) and the following grace- 
 ful idiom in some verses by Temple : — 
 
 Thy busy head can find no gentle rest 
 For thinking on the events,” &c. &c. 
 
 Some of his obervations, however, are just and tasteful. 
 Upon the Essay “ Of Popular Discontents,” after remarking, that 
 
 * The Bath Chronicle of the 9th of July has the following paragraph : “ It is with 
 great pleasure we inform our readers that Mr. Sheridan is declared by his surgeon to ho 
 pij; of danger.’^ 
 
RIGHT HON. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 73 
 
 “ Sir W. T. opens all his Essays with something as foreign to 
 the purpose as possible,” he has the following criticism “ Page 
 260, ‘ Represent misfortunes for faults, and mole-hills for moun- 
 tains ^^ — the metaphorical and literal expression too often coupled. 
 P. 262, ‘ Upon these four wheels the chariot of state may in all 
 appearance drive easy and safe, or at least not be too much 
 shaken by the usual roughness of ways, unequal humors of men, 
 or any common accidents,’ — another instance of the confus;on of 
 the metaphorical and literal expression.” 
 
 Among the passages he quotes from Temple’s verses, as faulty, 
 is the following : — 
 
 “ that we may see. 
 
 Thou art indeed the empress of the 
 
 It is curious enough that he himself was afterwards guilty of 
 nearly as illicit a rhyme in his song “ When ’tis night,” and al- 
 ways defended it : — 
 
 “ But when the fight’s begun. 
 
 Each serving at his 
 
 Whatever grounds there may be for referring these labors jf 
 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 read- 
 ing. Even here, however, the fears and anxieties that beset him 
 were too many and incessant to leave much leisure for the pur- 
 suits of scholarship. However, a state of excitement may be 
 favorable to the development of genius — which is often of the 
 nature of those seas, that become more luminous the more they 
 are agitated, — for a student, a far different mood is necessary ; 
 and in order to reflect with clearness the images that study pre- 
 sents, the mind should have its surface level and unruffled. 
 
 The situation, indeed, of Sheridan was at this time particu- 
 larly 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 
 
 VpLr I. 4 
 
74 
 
 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 
 
 antagonist, yet found the vindication of his honor still incomplete, 
 from the misrepresentations of enemies, and the yet more mis- 
 chievous testimony of friends. He felt within himself all the 
 proud consciousness of genius, yet, thrown on the world with- 
 out even a profession, looked in vain for a channel through which 
 to direct its energies. Even the precarious hope, which his fa- 
 ther’s favor held out, had been purchased by an act of duplicity 
 which 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 unpleas- 
 ing to him, but to take “ an oath equivocal” that he never would 
 marry Miss Linley. 
 
 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 earli- 
 est 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 private life, would not have been lost to the present work. 
 But scruples — over-delicate, perhaps, but respectable, as founded 
 upon a systematic objection to the exposure of any papers, re- 
 ceived under the seal of private friendship — forbid the publicii- 
 tion of these precious documents. The reader must, therefore, 
 be satisfied with the few distant glimpses of their contents, which 
 are afforded by the answers 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 pre- 
 vailed, — sometimes breaking out into aspirings of ambition, and 
 sometimes rising into a tone of cheerfulness, which but ill concealed 
 the melancholy under it. It is evident also, and not a little reraarkor- 
 ble, that in none of these overflowings of his confidence, had he 
 as yet suffered the secret of his French marriage with Miss 
 Linley to escape ; and that his friend accoT'dingly knew but half 
 the wretched peculiarities of his situation. Like most lovers, 
 too, imagining (hat every one who approached his mistress must 
 
RIGHT HON. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 75 
 
 be equally intoxicated with her beauty as himself, he seems anx- 
 iously to have cautioned his young correspondent (who occasional- 
 ly saw her at Oxford and at Bath) against the danger that lay in 
 such irresistible charms. From another letter, where the 's^o'iter 
 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 contrived 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 guardian 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, accompanied by Mr. Cleaver, and by 
 his brother Mr. Thomas Grenville — between whom and Richard 
 Sheridan an intimacy had at this period commenced, which con- 
 tinued with uninterrupted cordiality ever after. 
 
 Some time previous to the departure of the elder Mr. Sheridan 
 for Ireland, having taken before a magistrate the dep^kions of 
 the postillions who were witnesses of the duel at Kingsoown, 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 honorable antago- 
 nist. 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 W ade. Though 
 Sheridan refused to join in legal proceedings — from an unwil- 
 lingness, perhaps, to keep Miss Linley ’s name any longer afloat 
 upon public conversation — j^et this revival of the subject^ 
 
76 
 
 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 
 
 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 thii'd duel betw^een them. The authen- 
 ticity given by Captain Paumier’s name to 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 w'eak acquiescence 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 
 another explosion, appears from one of the letters already re- 
 ferred to, written in December, and directed to Sheridan at the 
 Bedford Coffee-house, Co vent Garden, in which the writer ex- 
 presses the most friendly and anxious alarm at the intelligence 
 which he has just received, — implores of Sheridan to moderate 
 his rage, and reminds him how often he had resolved never to 
 have any concern with Mathews 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 excite- 
 ments, and a lesson as useful in its warnings, as ever genius and 
 its errors have bequeathed to mankind. 
 
 The ^(tOwing 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 friend’s letters), “trod upon the heels of perilous proba- 
 bilities,” though prevented by the vigilance of her father from a 
 private interview, had frequent opportunities of seeing her in 
 public. Among many other 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 misunderstonding at this 
 
BIGHT HON. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. ?? 
 
 time occurred between them, — originating probably in some of 
 those paroxysms of jealousy, into which a lover like Sheridan 
 must have been conthiually 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 period, it was rumored that she was about 
 to be married to Sir Thomas Clarges ; and in the Bath Chronicle 
 of April, 1773, a correspondence 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 correspondence 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 publica- 
 
 tion, not with any view to increase the volume of literary scan- 
 dal, which, I am 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, notwithstanding the solicitations of her profession, and the 
 flattering example of higher ranks, has added incorruptible 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 effect- 
 ed, by the mediation of Sheridan’s young friend, Mr. Ewart ; 
 and, at length, after a series of stratagems and scenes, which con- 
 vinced Mr. Linley that it was impossible much longer to keep 
 them asunder, he consented to their union, and on the 13th of 
 April, 1773, they were married by license"^ — Mr. Ewart being 
 at the same time wedded to a young lady with whom he also had 
 eloped clandestinely to France, but was now enabled, by the for- 
 giveness of his father, to complete this double triumph of friend- 
 ship and love. 
 
 A curious instance of the indolence and procrastinating habits 
 of Sheridan used to be related by W oodfall, as having occurred 
 
 * Thus announced in the Gentleman’s Magazine : — “Mr. Sheridan of the Temple to the 
 celebrated Miss Linley of Balh.’^ 
 
78 
 
 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 
 
 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 wish- 
 ing, as he said, that the public should have the whole matter 
 fairly before them, he thought it right that the offensive state- 
 ment should first be inserted, and in a day or two after be fol- 
 lowed by his answer, which would thus come with more rele- 
 vancy and effect. In compliance with his wish, Woodfall 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 line 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 to supply the antidote. Throughout his whole life, indeed, 
 he but too consistently acted upon the principles, which the first 
 Lord Holland used playfully to impress upon his son : — ■“ Never 
 do to-day what you can possibly put off till to-morrow, nor ever 
 do, yourself, what you can get any one else to do for you.” 
 
RIGHT HON. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. ?9 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 DOMESTIC CIRCUMSTANCES. — FRAGMENTS OF ESSAYS FOUND 
 
 AMONG HIS PAPERS. — COMEDY OF ‘‘ THE RIVALS.” — AN- 
 SWER TO “TAXATION NO TYRANNY.” — FARCE OF “ ST. 
 
 Patrick’s day.” 
 
 A FEW weeks previous to his marriage, Sheridan had been en- 
 tered a student of the Middle Temple. It was not, however, to 
 be expected that talents like his, so sure of a quick return of fame 
 and emolument, would wait for the distant and dearly-earned 
 emoluments which a life of labor in this profession promises. 
 Nor, indeed, did his circumstances admit of any such patient spe- 
 culation. A part of the sum which Mr. Long had settled upon 
 Miss Linley, and occasional assistance from her father (his own 
 Raving withdrawn all countenance from him), were now the only 
 resources, besides 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 advantageous 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-ap- 
 pear in public ; and, instead of profiting by the display of his 
 wife’s talents, adopted the manlier resolution of seeking an inde- 
 pendence by his own. An engagement had been made for her 
 some months before by her father, to perform at the music-meet- 
 ing that was to take place at Worcester this summer. But Sher- 
 idan, who considered that his own claims upon her had superse- 
 ded all others, would not suffer her to keep this engagement. 
 
 How decided his mind was upon the subject will appear from 
 the following letter, written by him to Mr. Linley about a month 
 
80 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF TH^ 
 
 after his marriage, and containing some other interesting particu- 
 lars, that show the temptations with which his pride had, at this 
 time, to struggle : — 
 
 “ Dear Sir, East Burnhamy May 12, 1773. 
 
 “ I purposely deferred writing to you till I should have settled 
 all matters in LfOndon, and in some degree settled ourselves at 
 our little home. Some unforeseen delays prevented my finishing 
 wi^h Swale till Thursday last, when everything 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 reason of its miss- 
 ing us at Morden. As to the principal point it treats of, I had 
 given my answer some days ago, to Mr, Isaac of Worcester. 
 He had enclosed 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 (Mrs. S.) will fulfil a positive engagement, 
 the breach of which v^ould prove of fatal consequence to our 
 meeting, I hope Mr. Sheridan will think his honor in some degree 
 concerned in fulfilling it.’ — Mr. Storace, in order to enforce Mr. 
 Isaac’s argument, showed me his letter on the same subject to 
 him, which begins with saying, ‘ W e must have Mrs. Sheridan, 
 somehow or other, if possible !’ — the plain English of which is 
 that, if her husband is not willing to let her perform, we will per- 
 suade him that he acts dishonorably in preventing her from ful- 
 filling 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 honor can be concerned 
 in my wife’s fulfilling an engagement, 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 na- 
 tural 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 
 
fiiGHT HON. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 81 
 
 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 occa- 
 sion 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 engagement), 
 who has endeavored to place the idea of my complimenting the 
 University with Betsey’s performance in the strongest light of 
 advantage 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 regard to Betsey’s performing, 
 there surely would be more sense in obliging Lord North (and 
 probably from his 024^/1 application) and the University, 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 — particu- 
 larly, 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, &c. &c., 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 
 situation 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 
 4 -^ 
 
 VOL. I. 
 
82 
 
 MEMOIRS OF TEtE LIFE OF LlLE 
 
 that I speak with regard to my father. Betsey informs me yon 
 have written to him again — have you heard from him 1 * * 
 
 ******* 
 
 “ I should hope to hear from you very soon, and I 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 re- 
 spect 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, &c. &c., 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 was during a very short absence from this cot- 
 tage, that the following lines were written by him : — - 
 
 Teack me, kind Hymen, teach, for thou 
 Must be my only tutor now, — 
 
 Teach me some innocent employ, 
 
 That shall the hateful thought destroy, 
 
 That I this whole long night must pass 
 In exile from my love’s embrace. 
 
 Alas, thou hast no wings, oh Time !* 
 
 It was some thoughtless lover’s rhyme, 
 
 Who, writing in his Chloe’s view. 
 
 Paid her the compliment through you. 
 
 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. 
 
 But ’tis the temper of the mind. 
 
 Where we thy regulator find, 
 still o’er the gay and o’er the young 
 With unfijlt steps you flit along, — 
 
 ♦ It will be perceived that the eight following lines are the foumlalion of the song 
 “ What bard, oh Time,” in the Duenna. 
 
EiGST HON. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 83 
 
 As YirgiPs nymph o’er ripen’d corn, 
 
 With such ethereal haste was borne, 
 
 That every stock, with upright head. 
 
 Denied the pressure of her tread. 
 
 But o’er the wretched, oh, how slow 
 And heavy sweeps thy scythe of woe ! 
 
 Oppress’d beneath each stroke they bow, 
 
 Thy course engraven on their brow : 
 
 A day of absence shalT 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 ; 
 
 He 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 
 Storace, the intimate friend of Mr. Linley, and in the following 
 year attained that first step of independence, a house to them- 
 selves ; Mr. Linley having kindly supplied the furniture of their 
 new residence, which was in Orchard-Street, Portman-Square. 
 During the summer of 1774, they passed some time at Mr. Can- 
 ning’s and Lord Coventry’s ; hut, so little did these visits inter- 
 fere with the literary industry of Sheridan, that, as appears from 
 
84 
 
 MEMOIRS OF TflE LIFE OF THE 
 
 the following letter, w^ritten to Mr. Linley in November, he had 
 not only at that time finished his play of the Rivals, but was on 
 the point of “ sending a book to the press — 
 
 “Dear Sir, Nov, 1774. 
 
 “ If I were to attempt to maKe as many apologies as my long 
 omission in writing to you requires, I should have no room for 
 any other subject. One excuse only I shall bring forward, which 
 is, that I have been exceedingly 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 encoun- 
 tered 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 w^as 
 going to have such an illness as last year, of which I assure you, 
 upon my honor, 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 been very seriously at work on a book, which I am 
 just now sending to the press, and which I think wfill do me 
 some credit, if it leads to nothing else. Plowever, the profitable 
 affair is of another nature. There will be a Comedy of mine in 
 rehearsal at Covent-Garden 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) owm re- 
 quest ; it is now complete in his hands, and preparing 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 bun- 
 
RIGHT HON. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 85 
 
 dred 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 found Mr. Smith has declined, and is retiring to 
 Bath. Mr. Stanley informed me that on his applying to the 
 king for the continuance of his favor, he was desired by his 
 Majesty to make me an offer of Mr. Smith’s situation and part- 
 nership in them, and that he should continue his protection, &c. 
 I declined the matter very civilly and very peremptorily. I 
 should imagine that Mr. Stanley would apply to you ; — I 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 arrangement. 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 besides. Ac- 
 cept Betsey’s love and duty. 
 
 ‘‘ Your sincere and affectionate 
 
 “R. B. Sheridan.” 
 
 What the book here alluded to was, I cannot with any ac- 
 curacy ascertain. Besides a few sketches of plays and poems, 
 of which I 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 
 
86 
 
 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 
 
 he left Harrow, and the present year ; though at what precise 
 dates during that period there are no means of judging. 
 
 Among these there are a few political Letters, evidently de- 
 signed 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 the 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 
 founded on the regard which ought to be paid to justice, and on 
 the good effects which, they affirm, such an example w'ould have, 
 in suppressing 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 impression 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 some weight to their argument. But, in the 
 present case, we should reflect how apt mankind are to relent 
 after they have inflicted punishment ; — so that, perhaps, the same 
 men who would have detested the noble Lord, while alive and in 
 prosperity, pointing him as a scarecrow 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, by way of compensation, ac- 
 quit 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 clearness 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 in- 
 
RIGHT HON -RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 87 
 
 stances which should seem to promise the greatest steadiness and 
 resolution. 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 honor ; 
 and, if we see him so punctual in private appointments, must we 
 not conclude that he is infinitely more so in greater matters ? 
 
 Nay, when W s*^ came over, is it not notorious that the late 
 
 Lord Mayor went to His Grace on that evening, proposing a 
 scheme which, by securing this fire-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 honor ; — he 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 Adver- 
 tiser, — and appearing to be one of a series to the same corres- 
 pondent. From the few political allusions introduced in this let- 
 ter, (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 be^n- 
 ning 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 let- 
 ter-writer in a newspaper, to be a close copyist of the style of 
 Junius : of course, our young political tyro followed this “ mould 
 of form” as well as the rest. Thus, in addressing his correspon- 
 dent : — ‘‘ 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 elabor- 
 ately wrong, — will not suffer me to attribute such numerous 
 errors to any thing but real ignorance, joined with most consum 
 mate vanity.” The following is a specimen of his acuteness in 
 
 ♦ Wilkes. 
 
88 
 
 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 
 
 criticising the absurd style of his adversary : — ‘‘You leave it rar 
 ther 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 
 nature.’ 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 be 
 lieve you are 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 
 second line, convicts him of deficiency in at least one common 
 branch of literary acquirement : — we find thing always spelt 
 think ; — whether^ where^ and which^ turned into wether^ were^ and 
 wich ; — and double ms and s's almost invariably reduced to 
 “ single blessedness.” This sign of a neglected education re- 
 mained with him to a very late period, and, in his hasty writing, 
 or scribbling, would 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 diffi- 
 cult to say, — gained the mastery. 
 
 There are also among his manuscripts some commencements of 
 Periodical Papers, under various names, “ The Detector,” “ The 
 Dramatic Censor,” &c. ; — none of them, apparently, carried be- 
 yond the middle of the first number. But one of the most cu- 
 rious of these youthful productions is a Letter to the Queen, re- 
 commending the establishment of an Institution, for the instruc- 
 tion and maintenance of young females in the better 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 patronage of Her Majesty, and entitled “ The 
 Royal Sanctuary.” The reader, however, has to arrive at the 
 
RIGHT HON. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 89 
 
 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 Ma- 
 jesty : — “ The dispute about the proper sphere of women is idle. 
 That men should have attempted to draw a line for their orbit, 
 shows that God meant them for comets, and above our jurisdic- 
 tion. With them the enthusiasm of poetry and the idolatry of 
 love is the simple voice of nature.” There; are, indeed, many pas- 
 sages of this boyish composition, a good deal resembling in their 
 style those ambitious apostrophes with which he afterwards orna- 
 mented his speeches on the trial of Hastings. 
 
 He next proceeds to remark to Her Majesty, that in those 
 countries where “ man is scarce better than a brute, he shows his 
 degeneracy by his treatment of women,” and again falls into met- 
 aphor, 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 better style : — “ However, in savage 
 countries, where the pride of man has not fixed the first dictates 
 of ignorance 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-deer ; — he shall present to her the spoil of his bow on 
 his knee ; — he 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 beau- 
 ties his worship !” He then endeavors 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 fit 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 cultivated by inspiration, men would become 
 wise of course. They are a sort of pentagraphs with which na- 
 
90 
 
 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 
 
 ture writes on the heart of man ; — what she delineates on the ori 
 ginal 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 state 
 of warfare with poverty and distress. The sea of adversity is our 
 natural element, and he that will not buffet with the billows de- 
 serves to 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 to give you shelter 
 After describing, with evident seriousness, the nature of the 
 institution 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 have 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 immediately under your majesty’s patronage, so should 
 your majesty be the first member of it. Let the constitution 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 instructors of real merit. The classes are to 
 be distinguished by age — none by degree. For, as their qualifica- 
 tion shall be gentility, they are all on a level. The instructors 
 shall be women, except for the languages. Latin and Greek 
 should not be learned ; — the frown of pedantry destroys the 
 blush of humility. The practical part of the sciences, as of as- 
 tronomy, &c., 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 romances infi- 
 nitely more. The one is a representation of the effects of the 
 passions as they should be, though extravagant ; the other, as 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 
 
RIGHT HOIST. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 91 
 
 would therefore exclude all novels that show human nature de- 
 praved : — 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 
 Essay, on the letters of Lord Chesterfield, which, I am inclined to 
 think, may have formed a part of the rough copy of the book, 
 announced 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 him- 
 self of it. As .the few pages which I have found, and which con- 
 tain 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 these 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. Emu- 
 lation not to be encouraged even in virtue. True virtue will, like the Athe- 
 nian, rejoice in being surpassed ; a friendly emulation cannot exist in two 
 minds ; one must hate the perfections in which he is eclipsed by the other ; 
 — thus, from hating the quality in his competitor, he loses the respect for 
 it in himself : — a young man by himself better educated than two. — A Jto- 
 man^s emulation was not to excel his countrymen, but to make his country 
 excel ; this is the true, the other selfish.— Epaminondas, who reflected on 
 
92 
 
 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 
 
 the pleasure his success would give his father, most glorious ; — an emula- 
 tion for that purpose, true. 
 
 The selfish 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 affection of Morni inOssian ; 
 ^ Oh, that the name of Morni,’ &c. &c.* 
 
 His frequent directions for constant employment entirely ill founded : 
 — a wise man is forme^ more by the action of his own thoughts than by 
 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 tracks 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 two sentences contain the secret of Sheridan’s con- 
 fidence 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 CovenbGarden, and the following was the cast of 
 the characters on the first night : — 
 
 Sir Anthony Absolute 
 Captain Absolute 
 Falkland . 
 
 Acres 
 
 Sir Lucius 0 ’Trigger 
 Fag . . 
 
 David 
 
 Coachman . 
 
 Mr. Shuter. 
 
 Mr. Woodward. 
 Mr. Lewis. 
 
 Mr. Quick. 
 
 Mr. Lee. 
 
 Mr. Lee Lewes. 
 Mr. Dunstal. 
 Mr. Fearon. 
 
 r\% Mrs. Malaprop 
 
 y* Lydia Languish 
 
 ' . Julia .... 
 
 ■> Lucy .... 
 
 Ihal the name of Morni were for<?ot 
 
 . Mrs. Green. 
 
 . Miss Barsanti. 
 
 . Mrs. Bulkley. 
 
 . Mrs. Lessing ham. 
 
 among the people ; that the heroes would 
 only say, ‘Behold the father of Gaul !’ ” Sheridan applied this, more than thirty years 
 after, in talking of his own son, on the hustings of Westminster, and said that, in like 
 manner, he would ask no greater distinction than for men to point at him and say, 
 “ There goes the father of Tom Sheridan.’’ 
 
RIGHT HON. RICHARD BEINSLEY SHERIDAN. 93 
 
 This comedy, as is well known, failed on its first representa- 
 . tion, — chiefly from the bad acting of Mr. Lee in Sir Lucius 
 O’Trigger. Another actor, however, Mr. Clinch, was substituted 
 in his place, and the play being lightened of this and some other 
 incumbrances, rose at once into that high region of public favor, 
 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. Sher- 
 idan, 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. 
 
 “My dearest Eliza, Bath, 
 
 “We are all in the greatest anxiety about Sheridan’s play, — 
 though I do not think there is the least doubt of its succeeding. 
 
 I was told last night that it was his own story, and therefore call- 
 ed “ The Rivals but I do not give any credit to this intelli- 
 gence. ^ ^ ^ 
 
 “ I am told he will get at least 700^. for his play.” 
 
 Bath^ January^ 1775. 
 
 “ It is Impossible to tell you what pleasure we felt at the re- 
 ceipt of Sheridan’s last letter, which confirmed what we had seen 
 in the newspapers 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 th6 audience would go very much prejudiced against 
 it. But now, there can be no doubt of its success, as it has cer- 
 tainly got through more difficulties 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 compos- 
 ing ; — it’s true, indeed ; — you must not contradict me when I say 
 you wrote the much admired epilogue to the Rivals. How 1 long 
 
94 
 
 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 
 
 to read it ! What makes it more certain is, that my father guess- 
 ed 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 ap- 
 pears, 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 elsewhere, are thus mentioned in these letters 
 of Miss Linley : 
 
 “ Bath, February 18, 17T5. 
 
 What shall I say of The Eivals ! — a compliment must na- 
 turally 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 be better able to explain 
 myself, and tell you how much I am delighted with it. We *^x- 
 pect to have it here very soon : — it is now in rehearsal. ^ >u 
 pretty well know the merits of our principal performers 1] 
 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. Keasherry. 
 
 Fag Mr. Brunsdon. 
 
 Mrs. Malaprop . . . Mrs. Wheeler. 
 
 Miss Lydia .... Miss Wheeler. 
 
 (Literally, a very pretty romantic girl, of seventeen.) 
 
 Julia Mrs. Didier 
 
 Lucy Mrs. Brett. 
 
 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. I don’t think Mrs. Mattocks can do Julia very welL” 
 
RIGHT HON. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. i)5 
 
 “ Bath, March 9, 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, I 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 per- 
 formed 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 any thing 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,— Bowers 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.” 
 
 “ Bathy August 22c?, 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 
 tiities: — Miss Barsanti, Lydia, and Mrs. Canning, Julia.” 
 
 To enter into a regular analysis of this lively play, the best 
 comment 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 
 
96 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 
 
 exhibits perhaps more humor than The School for Scandal, and 
 the dialogue, though by no means so pointed or sparkling, is, in 
 this respect, more natural, as coming nearer the current coin of 
 ordinary conversation ; whereas, the 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 per- 
 sons with whims and absurdities, for which the circumstances 
 they are engaged in afford but a very disproportionate vent. Ac- 
 cordingly, for our insight into their characters, we are indebted 
 rather to their confessions than their actions. Lydia Languish, 
 in proclaiming the extravagance of her own romantic 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 we are, at 
 the tameness with which her amour concludes. Among the va- 
 rious ingredients supposed to be mixed up in the composition of 
 Sir Lucius ©’Trigger, his love of fighting is the only one whose 
 flavor is very strongly brought out ; and the wayward, captious 
 jealousy of Falkland, though so highly colored 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 device in the Nut-brown Maid and Peregrine Pickle. 
 
 The character of Sir Anthony Absolute is, perhaps, the best 
 sustained and most natural of any, and the scenes between him 
 and Captain Absolute are richly, genuinely dramatic. His sur- 
 prise at the apathy with which his son receives the glowing pic- 
 ture 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 humor. Mrs. Malaprop’s 
 mistakes, in what she herself calls “ orthodoxy,” have been often 
 objected to as improbable from a woman in her rank of life ; but, 
 though some of them, it must be owned, are extravagant and far- 
 
HiGHT HON. RICHARD jaRlNSLE-^ SHEI^IDAN. 9 ? 
 
 deal, they are almost all amusing, — and the luckiness of her si- 
 mile, “ as headstrong 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 com- 
 position. 
 
 Of the faults of Sheridan both in his witty 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 dia- 
 logue of this play. Among the former kind is the following 
 elaborate conceit : — 
 
 Falk. Has Lydia changed her mind ? I should have thought her dutip 
 and inclination would now have pointed to the same object. 
 
 Ahs. Ay, just as the eyes of a person who squints : when her love-eye 
 was fixed on me, t’other — her eye of duty — was finely obliqued : but when 
 duty 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 labored — 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 afford specimens : — 
 
 Then on the bosom of your wedded Julia, you may lull your keen re- 
 gret to slumbering ; while virtuous love, with a cherub’s hand, shall smooth 
 the brow of upbraiding thought, and pluck the thorn from compunction.” 
 
 Again : — When hearts deserving happiness would unite their fortunes, 
 virtue would crown them with an unfading garland of modest hurtless 
 fiowers : but ill-judging passion will force the gaudier rose into the wreath, 
 whose thorn offends them when its leaves are dr opt.” 
 
 But, notwithstanding such blemishes, — and it is easy for the 
 microscopic 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 ex- 
 quisite humor 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. 
 
 5 
 
 VOL. I. 
 
98 
 
 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF' THE 
 
 A copy of The Rivals has fallen into my hands, which once 
 belonged 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.* 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 
 1 he two Whig ministries, could not have been written before the 
 vear 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 prefixing your name to a work begun en- 
 tirely at your suggestion, and finished under your auspices ; and 
 I should think myself wanting in gratitude to you, if I did not 
 take an early opportunity of acknowledging the obligations which 
 I owe you. There \vas a time — though it is so long ago that 
 I now scarcely remember it, and cannot mention it without com- 
 punction — but there was a time, when the importunity of parents, 
 and the example of a few injudicious young men of my acquaint- 
 ance, had almost prevailed on me to thwart my genius, and pros- 
 titute my abilities by an application to serious pursuits. And if 
 you had not opened my eyes to the absurdity 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 emi- 
 nent 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, 
 
 * These opinions are generally expressed in two or three words, and are, for the most 
 part, judicious. Upon Mrs. Malaprop’s quotation from Shakspeare, “Hesperian curls,’^ 
 &c. he writes, “ overdone — fitter for farce than comedy.’’ Acres’s classification of oaths, 
 “This we call the oath referential,’’ ‘‘ &c. he pronounces to be “ very good, but above the 
 speaker’s capacity.” Of Julia’s speech, “ Oh woman, how true should be your judgment, 
 when your resolution is so weak !” he remarks, “ On th''. contrary, it seems to be of little 
 consequence whether any person’s judgment be weak o" not, who wants resolution to act 
 according to it.” 
 
RIGHT HON. RICHARD BRlNSLEY SHERIDAN. 99 
 
 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 yoar zeal for me into 
 new and awkward situations, and such as you were at first, natu- 
 rally 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, usu- 
 ally attended by dry and disgusting business, into scenes of per- 
 ’petual merriment 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 prefe- 
 rence 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 excellencies, 1 
 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 per- 
 sons usually deserve most of their friends who expect least of 
 them. 
 
 “ I am, &c. &c. &c., 
 
 “ 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 ; and, gifted as he and his beautiful 
 wife were with all that forms the magnetism of society,— the 
 powder to attract, and the disposition to be attracted, — their life, 
 as may easily be supposed, was one of gaiety both at home and 
 aoroad. Though little able to cope with the entertainments of 
 their wealthy acquaintance, her music and the good company 
 
100 
 
 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 
 
 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, accompa- 
 nied occasionally by the two little daughters* of Mr. Coote, who 
 were the originals of the children introduced into Sir Joshua 
 Reynolds’s portrait of Mrs. Sheridan as St. Cecilia. It was here 
 that the Duchess of Devonshire first met .Sheridan ; and, as I 
 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 re- 
 minded of these scruples some years after, when “the player’s 
 son” had become the admiration 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 party then assembled at Chatsworth 
 from separating. These are triumphs which, for the sake of all 
 humbly born heirs of genius, deserve 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 
 Scheming Lieutenant,” which was acted on the 2d of May, and 
 had considerable success. 
 
 Though we must not look for the usual point of Sheridan in 
 this piece, where the hits of pleasantry are performed with the 
 broad end or mace of his wit, there is yet a quick circulation of 
 humor 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 respective merits of militia- men and regulars, are highly 
 comic : — 
 
 * The charm of her singing, as well as her fondness for children, are interestingly de- 
 scribed in a letter to my friend Mr. Rogers, from one of the most tasteful writers of the 
 present day : — “Hers was truly ‘a voice as of the cherub choir, ’^and she was always 
 ready to sing without any pressing. She sung here a great deal, and to my infinite delight ; 
 but what had a particular charm was, that she used to take my daughter, then a child, on 
 her lap, and sing a number of childish songs with such a playfulness of manner, and 
 such a sweetness of look and voice, as was quite enchantinff.” 
 
EIGHT HON. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 101 
 
 “ 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 bold 
 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 barbarous ! to want a husband that may wed you to-day 
 and be sent the Lord knows where before night ; then in a twelve-month, 
 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 
 <he very opening : — 
 
 Is^ Soldier, I say you are wrong ; we should all speak together, each 
 or himself, and all at once, that we may be heard the better. 
 
 2d Soldier. Right, Jack, we’ll argue in -platoons?'^ 
 
 Notwithstanduig 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 pub- 
 lished his pamphlet on the American question, entitled “ Taxation 
 no Tyranny — a work whose pompous sarcasms on the Con- 
 gress of Philadelphia, 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 fragments, found among the papers of Mr. Sher- 
 idan, prove that he had it in contemplation to answer this pam- 
 phlet ; and, however inferior he might have been in styde to his 
 practised adversary, he would at least have had the advantage of 
 a good cause, and of those durable materials of truth and jus- 
 tice, 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, 
 
102 
 
 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 
 
 “ If they are condemned unheard, it is because there is no need 
 of a trial. The crime is manifest and notorious,” &c. &c. 
 
 It appears from the fragments of the projected answer, that 
 Johnson’s pension was one of the points upon which Mr. Sher 
 idan intended to assail him. The prospect of being able to 
 neutralize the effects of his zeal, by exposing the nature of the 
 chief incentive from which it sprung, was so tempting, perhaps, 
 as to overrule any feelings of delicacy, that might otherwise have 
 suggested the illiberality of such an attack. The following are a 
 few of the stray hints for this part of his subject : — 
 
 “ It is hard when a learned man thinks himself obliged to com- 
 mence politician. — Sucn pamphlets will be as trifling and insin- 
 cere as the venal quit-rent of a birth-day ode."^ 
 
 “ Dr. J.’s other works, his learning and infirmities, fully en- 
 titled him to such a mark of distinction. — There was no call on 
 him to become politician. — the easy quit-rent of refined pane- 
 gyric,^ 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 generally be ungrateful — the patron is most 
 possibly disgraced or in opposition — if he (the author) follows the 
 dictates of gratitude, he must speak his patron’s language, but he 
 may lose his pension — but to be a standing supporter of minis- 
 try, is probably to take advantage of that competence against his 
 benefactor. — When it happens that there is great experience and 
 political knowledge, this is more excusable ; but it is truly unfor- 
 tunate 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 : — 
 
 * On another scrap of paper I find “the miserable quit-rent of an annual pamphlet.’^ 
 It was his custom in composition (as will be seen by many other instances) thus to try the 
 same tnought in a variety of forms and combinationSj in order to see in which it would 
 yield iHe greatest produce of wjt. 
 
RIGHT HO^. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 103 
 
 they are fearful of encountering obstacles to their faith (as in re- 
 ligion), and so are content with the surface.” 
 
 Dr. Johnson says, in one part of his pamphlet, — “As all are 
 born the subjects of some state or other, we may be said to have 
 been all born consenting to some system of government.” On this 
 Sheridan remarks : — “ This is the most slavish doctrine that ever 
 was inculcated. If by our birth we give a tacit bond for our ac- 
 quiescence in that form of government under which we were born, 
 there never would have been an alteration of the first modes of 
 government— no Revolution in England.” 
 
 Upon the argument derived from the right of conquesc he ob- 
 serves — “ 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 to 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 sub- 
 ject merely because he has been rewarded for writing otherwise 
 all his lifetime.” 
 
 In answer to the argument against the claims of the Amer- 
 icans, founded on the small proportion of the population that is 
 really represented even in England, he has the following desul- 
 tory memorandums : — “ In fact, every man in England is repre- 
 sented — ^every man can influence people, so as to get a vote, and 
 even if in an election votes are divided, each candidate is sup- 
 posed 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 am- 
 bitious of assisting the empire, he need not put himself to much 
 inconvenience. — If the Doctor indulged his studies in Cricklade 
 or Old Sarurn, he might vote: — the dressing meat, the simplest 
 proof of existence, begets a title. — His pamphlet shows that he 
 thinks he can influence some one : not an anonymous writer in 
 
 * He means to compare an election of this sort to the casting of lots between the Gre 
 cian t hiefs in the 7th book of the Iliad. 
 
104 
 
 MEMOIKS OF THE LIFE OF THE 
 
 the paper but contributes his mite to the general tenor of opin 
 ion. — At the eve of an election, his Patriot* was meant to influ 
 ence more than the single voice of a rustic. — Even the mob, in 
 shouting, give votes 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 society and conversation of the eloquent moralist, who, in the 
 following year, proposed him as a member of the Literary Club, 
 and always spoke of his character and genius with praise. Nor 
 was Sheridan wanting on his part with corresponding tributes ; 
 for, in a prologue which he wrote about this time to the play of 
 Sir Thomas Overbury, he thus alludes to Johnson’s Life of its 
 unfortunate author 
 
 So pleads the tale, that gives to future times 
 
 The son’s misfortunes, and the parent’s crimes ; 
 
 There shall his fame, if own’d to-night, survive ; 
 
 Fix’d by the hand that bids our language live.” 
 
 *The name of a short pamphlet, published by Dr. Johnson, on the dissolution of Par^ 
 liament in 1774. 
 
KiaHT HON. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 105 
 
 CHAPTER lY. 
 
 THE DUENNA.- -PURCHASE OF DRURY LANE THEATRE.- 
 THE TRIP TO SCARBOROUGH. — POETICAL CORRESPON- 
 DENCE 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 with the progress of 
 a work, which is destined to be long the delight of English ears, 
 must naturally have a charm for English readers, I feel happy at 
 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 feel- 
 ings, 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 exceed- 
 ingly pleased. I shall profit by your 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 the ankle on any 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 I with some stanzas, but an interview 
 with Harris to-day has put me from the thoughts of it, and bept 
 yoL. I, 5* 
 
106 
 
 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 
 
 me upon a much more important petition. You may easily sup 
 pose 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 extrava- 
 gantly sanguine of its success as to plot and dialogue, which is to 
 be rehearsed next Wednesday at the theatre. They will exert 
 themselves to the utmost in the scenery, &c., but I never saw 
 any one so disconcerted as he w^as 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 man- 
 agers), 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 any weight, to write himself. 
 Is it impossible to contrive this 1 couldn’t you leave Tom*^ to su- 
 perintend the concert for. a 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, I 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 performers at least in the right way. 
 Harris has set his heart so much on my succeeding in this appli- 
 cation, 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 re- 
 turn of the post must only forerun your arrival ; or (what will 
 make us much happier) might it not bring you ? I shall say no- 
 thing 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 ;f 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.” 
 
 ♦ Mrs. Sheridan’s eldest brothw'* 
 
 f Garrick. 
 
RIGHT HON. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 107 
 
 On the opposite leaf of this letter is written, in Mrs. S.’s hand- 
 writing, — “ Dearest Father, I shall ave 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 by the poet to the musician, we may percieve that he 
 somewhat apprehended, even in the tasteful hands of Mr. Linley, 
 that predominance of harmony over melody, and of noise over 
 both, which is so fatal to poetry and song, in their perilous 
 alliance with an orchestra. Indeed, those elephants of old, that 
 used to tread down the ranks they were brought to assist, were 
 but a type of the havoc tliat is sometimes made both of melody 
 and meaning by the overlaying 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 men- 
 tior of my getting a master to teach the performers is the very 
 pcint where the nriatter 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 tneir 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 (l)y the specimen of ex- 
 pedition you have given me) will be advanced as far as you 
 mention. The parts are all writ out and doubled, &c. 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 I would wish the 
 
108 
 
 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 
 
 music to have ; as I think I have heard you say you never heard 
 Leoni,* and I cannot briefly explain to 'you the character and sit- 
 uation of the persons on the stage with him. The first (a dia- 
 logue between Quick and Mrs. Mattocksj), I would wdsh 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 advantageously in the six lines begin- 
 ning ‘ Gentle maid.’ I should tell you, that he sings nothing well 
 but in a plaintive or pastoral style ; and his voice is such as ap- 
 pears 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 V and return to ‘ Gentle maid,’ 
 and so sing that part of the tune again. J 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. Mat- 
 tocks 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 will do vastly w'ell 
 for the words : Don Jerome sings them w^hen he is in particular 
 spirits ; therefore the tune is not too light, though it might seem 
 so by the last stanza — but he does not mean to be grave there, 
 and I like particularly the returning to ‘ O the days when I was 
 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 trou- 
 bling you yet, but must wait till Monday.” 
 
 A subsequent letter contains further particulars of their pra 
 gress. 
 
 ♦ Leoni played Don Carlos. f Isaac and Donna Louisa. 
 
 t It will be perceived, by a reference to the music of the opera, that Mr. Linley follow 
 ^d Uicse instructions implicitly and successfully. 
 
HIGHT HOK. BICHARD BBIKSLEY SHERIDAN. 109 
 
 “Dear Sir, 
 
 “ Sunday evening next is fixed for oui* first musical rehearsal, 
 and I was in great hopes we mjght have completed the scores 
 The songs you have sent up of ‘ Banna’s Banks,’ and ‘ Deil take 
 the wars,’ I had made words for before they arrived, which an- 
 swer excessively well ; and this was my reason for wishing for 
 the next in the same manner, as it saved 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 in- 
 struments, 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 of friars over their wine.f 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 Bet- 
 sey mentioned, I only wish to have them with such accompani- 
 ment 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, &c., 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 per- 
 formers should have their parts complete by Monday night. 
 
 * Don Antonio. 
 
 t For these was afterwards substituted Mr. Liniey’s lively glee, “ This bottle’s the sun 
 of our table.’’ 
 
110 
 
 MEMOIRS OP THE LIFE OF THE 
 
 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, &c.’) 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 particularly calculated for a stage effect ; but I don’t 
 like to take another person’s words, and I don’t see how I can 
 put others, keeping the same idea of seven squalling brats, 
 &c.’) in which the whole affair lies. However, I shall be glad of 
 the notes, with Reynold’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 recon- 
 ciled. 
 
 The inclosed are the words for ‘ Wind, gentle evergreen 
 a passionate song for Mattocks, j* and another for Miss Brown,J 
 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, un- 
 common. 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 pretty well ; and, for variety, we want Mr. Simpson’s hautboy ^ 
 to cut a figure, with replying passages, &c., in the way of Fish- 
 
 * This idea was afterwards relinquished. 
 
 f The words of this song, in composing which the directions here given were exactly 
 followed, are to he found in scarce any of the editions of the Duenna. They are as fol 
 lows : — 
 
 Sharp is the woe that wounds the jealous mind. 
 
 When treachery two fond hearts would rend : 
 
 But oh 1 how keener far the pang to find 
 That traitor in our bosom friend. 
 
 J “ Adieu, thou dreary pile.’^ 
 
RIGHT HOH. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. Ill 
 
 er’s ‘ M' ami^ il hel idol mio^ to abet which I have lugged in 
 ‘ Echo,’ who is always allowed to play her part. I have not a 
 moment more. Yours ever sincerely.” 
 
 Tlie next and last extract I shall give at present is from a let- 
 ter, dated Nov. 2, 1775, about three weeks before the first rep- 
 resentation of the opera. 
 
 “ Our music is now all finished and rehearsing, but we are 
 greatly impatient to see you. We hold your coming to be neces- 
 sary beyond conception. You say you are at .our service af- 
 ter 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 rehears- 
 ing 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 intention to fix on ‘ Belidolmio^ However, I think 
 it is particularly well adapted, and, I doubt not, will have a great 
 effect ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ 
 
 Ht Ht Ht Ht 
 
 An allusion which occurs in these letters to the prospect of a 
 reconciliation with his father gives me an opportunity of men- 
 tioning a circumstance, connected with their difference, for the 
 knowledge of which I 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, having received information from an old family servant 
 that his father (who still refused to have any intercourse with 
 him) meant to attend, with 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, unob- 
 served, 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 
 
112 
 
 MEMOIKS OF THE LIFE OF THE 
 
 to the cause of his agitation by Mrs. Sheridan, to whom it was 
 new to see him returning 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 
 characters, as given in the collection of Mr. Sheridan’s Dramatic 
 W orks : — 
 
 Don'Ferdinand 
 
 
 
 
 
 Mr. Mattocks, 
 
 Isaac Mendoza 
 
 
 
 
 
 Mr, Quick, 
 
 Don Jerome 
 
 
 
 
 
 Mr. Wilson, 
 
 Don Antonio 
 
 
 
 
 
 Mr. Duhellamy. 
 
 Father Paul 
 
 
 
 
 
 Mr. Watson. 
 
 Lopez 
 
 
 
 
 
 Mr. Wewitzer. 
 
 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 ac 
 count 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 characters ; and even had recourse to the expedient of 
 playing off the mother against the son, by reviving Mrs. Frances 
 Sheridan’s comedy of The Discovery, and acting the principal 
 part in it himself 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.” 
 
 * This is incorrect : it was Miss Brown that played Donna Clara for the first few nights. 
 
RIGHT ilOH. RICHARD . BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 118 
 
 The Duenna is one of the very few operas in our language, 
 which combine the merits of legitimate comedy with the attrac- 
 tions of poetry and song ; — that divorce between sense and sound, 
 to which Dr. Brown and others trace the cessation of the early 
 miracles 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 ex- 
 clusive sovereign, — and the division of her empire with poe- 
 try 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” cf 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 extension. ^ 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 ; but possibly from the consideration that this would 
 apply too personally to Leoni, who was to perform the charac- 
 ter, 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. IVhat is your friend saying, Don ? 
 
 Isaao. Oh, Ma’am, he’s expressing his raptures at such charms as he 
 never saw before. 
 
 ^'Moses. Ay, such as I never saw before indeed, {aside.) 
 
 “ Duenna. You are very obliging, gentlemen ; but, I dare say, Sir, your 
 Mend 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 I have 
 any love for, and truly. Ma’am, you resemble her wonderfully. 
 
114 
 
 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 
 
 “ Duenna. Well, Sir, I wish she may give you her hand as speedily as 1 
 shall mine to your friend. 
 
 ‘‘ Moses. Me her hand I — 0 Lord, Ma’am — she is the last woman in the 
 world I could think of marrying. 
 
 Duenna. What then. Sir, are you comparing me to some wanton — some 
 courtezan ? 
 
 Isaac. Zounds! he durstn’t. 
 
 Moses. 0 not \ upon my soul. 
 
 “ Duenna. Yes, he meant some young harlot — some 
 
 Moses. Oh, dear Madam, no — it was my mother I meant, as I 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 I remember thirty years ago ! 
 
 “ Isaac. Oh, to be sure not, Ma’am — thirty years I 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 1 
 Isaac. Oh the devil I he has made himself out but a year old 1 — Come, 
 Moses, hold your tongue. — You must excuse him, Ma’am — he means to be 
 civil — but he is a poor, simple fellow — an’t you, Moses ? 
 
 Moses. ’Tis true, indeed, Ma’am,” &C; &c. &c. 
 
 The greatef part of the humor 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 Avhich 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 nem 
 ti ality in religion — “ like the blank leaf between the Old and New 
 Testament.” As an instance, too, of the occasional abuse of this 
 
tllGHT HON. RiCHARi) BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. Il5 
 
 research, which led him to mistake labored 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 let- 
 ter 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 : — 
 
 A plague on these haughty damsels, say I ; — when they play their airs 
 on their whining gallants, they ought to consider that we are the chief 
 sufferers, — we have all their ill-humors 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 I 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 honor, which, with his title, 
 
 has outlived his means. 
 
 Jerome. Have they? More shame for them! — What business have 
 honor 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 first act, too, (scene 3) where Jerome abuses the Du- 
 enna, there is an equally unaccountable omission of a sentence, 
 in which he compares 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 is so often doomed to be wed- 
 ded — making up by her own sweetness for the dulness of her 
 help-mate — ^by far the greater number of the songs are full of 
 beauty, and some of them may rank among the best models of 
 
116 
 
 MEMOmS OE THE LIFE OF THE 
 
 lyric writing. The verses, “ Had I a heart for falsehood framed,’’ 
 notwithstanding the stiffness of this word “ framed,” and one or 
 two other slight blemishes, are not unworthy of living in recol- 
 lection 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 : — 
 
 “ Ah, cruel maid, how hast thou changed 
 The temper of my mind ! 
 
 My heart, by thee from love estrang’d, 
 
 Becomes, like thee, unkind. 
 
 By fortune favor’d, clear in fiime, 
 
 I once ambitious was ; 
 
 And friends I had who fann’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 my woe ; 
 
 If I am mad in others’ eyes, 
 
 ’Tis thou hast made me so. 
 
 “ But days, like this, with doubting curst, 
 
 I will not long endure — 
 
 Am I disdain’d — I know the worst. 
 
 And likewise know my cure. 
 
 ♦ For this Edition of his Works I am no further responsible tnan in having communi- 
 cated to it a few prefatory pages, to account and apologize to the public for the delay ol 
 the Life. 
 
BiGHT HON. EICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 117 
 
 “ If, false, her vow she dare renounce, 
 
 That instant ends my pain ; 
 
 For, , oh I the heart must break at once. 
 
 That cannot hate 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 differ- 
 ence between the cold and graceful effusions of taste, and the fer- 
 vid 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 wnich the latter turns, is taken from a poem 
 already cited, addressed by him to Mrs. Sheridan in 1773 ; and 
 the following is the passage that supplied the material : — 
 
 Alas, thou hast no wings, oh Time, 
 
 It was some thoughtless lover's rhyme, 
 
 Who, writing in his Chloe’s view, 
 
 Paid her the compliment through you. 
 
 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.” 
 
 Jt 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 
 
118 
 
 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 
 
 of affection to other and less sacred uses — as if, like the ornar 
 ments 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 ca- 
 reer in the service of the dramatic muse occasioned. 
 
 There is not the same objection to the approbation 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 me : 
 
 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 me 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, 
 
 I’d rather hear a peacock scream, 
 
 * 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.*^ 
 
RIGHT RON. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 119 
 
 Must I, with attentive eye, 
 
 Watch her heaving bosom sigh ? 
 
 I will do so, when I see 
 That heaving bosom sigh for me. 
 
 None but bigots will in vain 
 Adore a heavm they cannc*: 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 prayer. ^ 
 
 But, by each joy of his I^ve known, 
 
 And all I yet shall make my own 
 Never will I, with humble speech. 
 
 Pray to a heaven I cannot reach.” 
 
 In the song, beginning “ Friendship is the 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, 1 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 soon make her kind ; 
 
 For the man that should praise her she needs must adore. 
 
 Who ne’er in her life receiv’d praises before. 
 
 But the frowns of a beauty in 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 
 audacious than the Dublin edition of the Duenna, — in which, 
 though the songs are given accurately, an entirely new dialogue 
 
120 
 
 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 
 
 hs substituted 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 ; but I must go 
 and lock up my wardrobe. 
 
 “ Isaac. Your wardrobe ! when you came into my house you could carry 
 your wardrobe in your comb-case, you could, you old dragon.’^ 
 
 Another specimen : — 
 
 “ Isaac. Her voice, too, you told me, was like a Virginia Nightingale ; 
 why, it is like a cracked warming-pan . — and as for dimples ! — to be sure, 
 she has the devibs own dimples. — Yes ! and you told me she had a lovely 
 down upon her chin, like the down of a peach ; but, damn me if ever 1 
 sav/ such down upon any creature in my life, except once upon an old goat.’^ 
 
 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 then 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 time, by our greatest living writer ; 
 
 Higher duties crave 
 
 Some space between the theatre and the grave ; 
 
 That, like the Roman in the Capitol, 
 
 I may adjust my mantle, ere I fall.”* 
 
 The progress of the negotiation between him and Mr. Sheri- 
 dan, which ended in making the latter patentee and manager, can- 
 not 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. 31, 1775. 
 
 “ I was always one of the slowest letter- writers m the world, 
 though I have had more excuses than usual for my delay in this 
 
 * Kemble’s Farewell A,ddress on taking leave o^f lire Edinburgh stage, written by Sir 
 W^ler S^oU. 
 
EIGHT HOH. EICHAED BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 121 
 
 instance. The principal matter of business on which I was to 
 have written to you, related to our embryo negotiation with Gar- 
 rick, 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 pre- 
 vented Mr. E. from seeing anybody on business, or from accom- 
 panying me to Garrick’s. However, about ten days ago, I talked 
 the matter over with him by myself, and the result was, appoint- 
 ing Thursday evening last to meet him, and to bring Ewart, which 
 I did accordingly. On the whole of our conversation that even- 
 ing, I began (for the first time) to think him really serious in the 
 business. He still, however, kept the reserve of giving the refu- 
 sal to Colman, though at the same time he did not hesitate to as- 
 sert his confidence that Colman would decline it. I was deter- 
 mined 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 prom- 
 ised 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 he 
 glad to see him upon his return to town, either on Wednesday about 
 G or 7 d clock, or whenever he pleases. The parly has no objection 
 to the whole, but chooses no partner but Mr. G. Not a word of this 
 yet. Mr. G, sent a messenger on purpose, (i. e. to Colman). He 
 would call upon Mr. S., but he is confined at home. Your name 
 is upon our list.^ 
 
 This decisive answer may be taken two ways. However, as 
 Mr. G. informed Mr. Ewart and me, that he had no authority or 
 pretensions to treat for the whole, it appears to me that Mr. Gar- 
 rick’s meaning in this note is, that Mr. Colman declines the pur- 
 chase 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 tinie mentioned, and, if I understand him right, we shall 
 certainly witb.QMt delay appoint two men of business and the law 
 
 VOL. R Q 
 
122 
 
 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 
 
 to meet on the matter, and come to a conclusion without further 
 delay. 
 
 ‘‘ According to his demand, the whole is valued at 70,000Z. 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 purchase on speculation^ with- 
 out 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 I 
 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 70,000/., the annual interest is 3,500/. ; 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 the Duenna, that the managers have not 
 tried to regain her, which 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 hel* 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. W e have given the Duenna a 
 
IvIGHT HON. HICHAKD BKINSLFY SHERIDAN. 123 
 
 respite this Christmas, 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 in 
 termission. 
 
 “ My best love and the compliments of the season to all your 
 fire-side. 
 
 ‘‘Your grandson is a very magnificent fellow."^ 
 
 “Yours ever sincerely, 
 
 “ R. B. Sheridan.’’ 
 
 “Dear Sir, January 4:^ 1776. 
 
 “ I left Garrick last night too late to write to you. He has 
 offered Colman 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 partner, young Leasy, and, in pre- 
 sence of their solicitor, treasurer, &c., declared to him that he 
 was absolutely on the point settling, and, if he was willing, he 
 might have the same price for his share ; but that if he (Leasy) 
 would not sell, Mr. Garrick would, instantly, to another party. 
 The result was, Leasy’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 resolution. So that, if the necessary matters are made out 
 to all our satisfactions, we may sign and seal a previous agree- 
 ment 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, Wal 
 lace. I have pitched on a Mr. Phips, at the recommendation 
 and by the advice of Dr. Ford. The three first steps to be ta- 
 ken are these, — our lawyer is to look into the titles, tenures, <fec 
 of the house and adjoining estate, the extent and limitations of 
 the patent, &c. We should then employ a builder (I think, Mr. 
 Collins,) to survey the state and repair in which the whole pre* 
 
 ♦ Sheridan’s first child, Tliomas, born in the preceding year 
 
124 
 
 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 
 
 mises 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.* lliis he 
 has shown me in rough, and valuing the property at 70,000/., the 
 interest has exceeded ten per cent. 
 
 “We should, after this, certainly make an inter e^ to get the 
 King’s promise, that, while the theatre is well conducted, &ic. he 
 will grant no patent to a third, — though G. seems confident that 
 he never wdll. If there is any truth in professions and appear- 
 ances, 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 10,000/., you 10,000/., and I, 10,000/. 
 — 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 Dr. Ford ; and my father offers his services on our own 
 terms. W e cannot unite Garrick to our interests too firmly ; 
 and I am convinced his influence will bring Leasy to our terms, 
 if he should be ill-advised enough to desire to interfere in what 
 he is totally unqualified for. 
 
 “ I’ll write to you to-morrow relative to Leasy’s mortgage' 
 (which Garrick has, and advises us to take), and many other par- 
 ticulars. When matters are in a certain train (which I hope will 
 be in a week,) I suppose 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 article, with a penalty of ten 
 thousand pounds on the parties 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 connec- 
 tion with the other house is peculiarly distressing, till I can with 
 prudence reveal my situation, and such a treaty (however pru- 
 
 * These accounts were found among Mr. Sheridan’s papers. Garrick’s income from the 
 HieaUe for the year 1775-6 is thus stated :-r-“ Author 400?., salary, 800L, manager 5Q0L”^ 
 
iilGHi' HON. KldllARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. l25 
 
 dently managed) cannot long be kept secret, especially as Leasy 
 is now convinced of Garrick’s resolution. 
 
 “ I am 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 315^, 1776. 
 
 “ I am glad you have found a person who will let you have 
 the money at four per cent. The security will be very clear; 
 but, as there is some degree of risk, as in case of fire, I think 
 four 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 
 four 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 property. 
 
 “ As to your quitting Bath, I cannot see why you should doubt 
 a moment about it. Surely, the undertaking in which you em- 
 bark such a sum as 10,000/. ought to be the chief object of your 
 attention — and, supposing you did not choose 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 de- 
 mand for exclusive trouble. Leasy is utterly unequal to any 
 department in the theatre. He has an opinion of me, and is 
 very willing to let the whole burthen and ostensibility be taken 
 off his shoulders. But I certainly should not give up my time 
 and labor (for his superior advantage, having so much greater 
 a share) without some exclusive advantage. Yet, I should by 
 
126 Memoirs op the life op the 
 
 no means make the demand till I had shown myself equal to the 
 task. My father purposes to he 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 any part of 'your attention 
 gratis, because you had a share in the theatre. I have spoke on 
 this subject both to Garrick and Leasy, and you will find no de- 
 mur on any side to your gaining a certain income from the thea- 
 tre — greater, I think, than you could make out of it — and in this 
 the theatre will be acting only for its own advantage. At the 
 same time you may always make leisure for a few select schol- 
 ars, whose interest may also serve the greater cause of your pa- 
 tentee-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 be 
 serviceable in either. 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 integrity of mind. 
 
 “Yours most sincerely, 
 
 “ R. B. Sheridan.” 
 
 In 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 stated : — 
 
 Mr. Sheridan, two fourteenths of the whole . 10,000Z. 
 
 Mr. Linley, ditto . . . . . ^ OOOL 
 
 Dr. Ford, 3 ditto 15,UiAy>. 
 
KIGHT HOJSr. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 127 
 
 Mr. Ewart, it will be perceived, though criginally mentioned 
 as one of the parties, had no concern in the 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 come : — 
 
 “ gentes maluit ortus 
 
 Mirari, 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, no- 
 body 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 mistress were, as we have seen, equally trackless and inau- 
 dible, and his triumph was the first that even rivals knew of his 
 love. In like manner, the productions of his wit took the world 
 by surprise, — being perfected in secret, till ready for display, and 
 then seeming to break from under the cloud of his indolence in 
 full maturity of splendor. 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 first purchase into the theatre, re- 
 mains, 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 must set that notion to rest. There was evi- 
 dently, at this time, no such confidential understanding between 
 them as an act of friendship of so signal a nature would imply ; 
 and it appears that Sheridan had the purchase money ready, even 
 before the terms upon which Garrick would sell were ascertained. 
 That Doctor Ford should have advanced tlie money is not less 
 improbable ; for the share of which, contrary to his first inten- 
 tion, he ultimately became proprietor, absorbed, there is every 
 
128 
 
 MEMOIRS OF TilE LIFE OF TEtF 
 
 reason to think, the whole of his disposable means. He was af- 
 terwards a sufferer by the concern to such an extent, as to be 
 obliged, in consequence of his embarrassments, to absent himself 
 for a considerable time from England ; and there 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 dissensions arose between the 
 nev/ patentees and Mr. Lacy, in consequence of the expressed in^ 
 tention of the latter to introduce two other partners into the es 
 tablishment, by the disposal of his share to Captain Thomson and 
 a Mr. Langford. By an account of this transaction, which ap- 
 pears in a Periodical Paper published at the time,^ and which, 
 from its correctness in other particulars, I rather think may be 
 depended on, it would seem that 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 bal- 
 anced, and their conduct examined ? Is there a precedent in the annals of 
 the theatre, where the acting manager deserted the general property, left 
 the house, and seduced the actors from their duties — why ? forsooth, because 
 he was angry. Is not such conduct actionable ? In any concern of com- 
 mon property. Lord Mansfield would make it so. And, what an insult to 
 the public, from whose indulgence and favor 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 disappointed, 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.’^ 
 
 ♦ The Selector. 
 
WGHT HON. RiCHAUD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 129 
 
 It is also intimated in the same publication that Mr. Garrick 
 had on this occasion ‘‘ given Mr. Sheridan^^credit on his banker 
 for 20,000Z. for law expenses or for the purchase of Messrs. 
 Langford and Thomson’s shares.” 
 
 The dispute, however, was adjusted amicably. Mr. Lacy w^as 
 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 char- 
 acteristic letter, addressed by Sheridan to Mr. Linley inthe spring 
 of the following year. 
 
 “Dear Sir, 
 
 “ You write to me though you tell me you have nothing to 
 say — now, I have reversed the case, and have not wrote to you, 
 because I have had so much to say. However, I find I have de- 
 layed 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 not having been 
 idle. 
 
 “ You represent your situation of mind between hopes and fears, 
 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 
 little fear by way of alloy with a good solid mass of hope ; but 
 you, on the contrary, always deal in apprehension by the pound, 
 and take confidence by the grain, and spread as thin as leaf gold. 
 In fact, thouiih a metaphor mayn’t explain it, the truth is, that, in 
 all undertakings which depend principally on ourselves, 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 meeting after you left town, he cleared 
 away all my doubts about his sincerity ; and I dare swear we 
 shall never have the least misunderstanding again, nor do I be- 
 VOL. I. 6* 
 
iSO MEMoIRS of tHE life of the 
 
 lieve he v;ill ever take any distinct counsel 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, 
 W e have, by and with the advice of the privy council, concluded 
 to have Noverre over, and there is a species of pantomime to be 
 shortly put on foot, which is to draw all the human kind to Dru- 
 ry.* This is become absolutely necessary on account of a mar- 
 vellous preparation of the kind which is making at Co vent Gar- 
 den. 
 
 “Touching the tragedies you mention, if you speak of them 
 merely as certain tragedies that may be had, I should think it 
 impossible we could find 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 the disagreeableness 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 ap- 
 pearance, and the cold he caught is gone. W e 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, per- 
 haps, 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, v/hat of al] 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 
 
 ♦ I find that the pantomime al Drury Lane this year was a revival of “ Harlequin's 
 Invasion/’ and that at Covent Garden, “ Harlequin’s Frolics.” 
 
RIGHT HON. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 13 1 
 
 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, warning, 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 morning, 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 
 manager 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 
 Scarborough.” 
 
 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 extin- 
 guish their light. If Sheridan, indeed, had substituted some of 
 his own wit for that which he took away, the inanition that fol 
 lowed the operation would have been much less sensibly felt. 
 But to be so liberal of a treasure so precious, and for the enrich- 
 ment of the work of another, could hardly have been expected 
 fi'om 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 it you make a nobleman’s spring 
 
1S2 
 
 MEMOIRS OF tHE LIFE OF THE 
 
 legs as robust as his autumnal calves, you commit a monstrous 
 impropriety, and make no allowance for the fatigues of the win 
 ter.” Again, the following dialogue : — 
 
 Jeweller, I hope, my lord, those buckles have had the unspeakable 
 satisfaction of being honored 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 lord- 
 ship’s shoe. 
 
 Lord F. 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 
 interval 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 too often expire in matrimony, as Faith and Hope do in 
 heaven, and from the same causes — 
 
 “ Oue 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 ; 
 
 Its leaves would strew the maiden’s bow’r, 
 
 « Its bark was shatter’d with her name ! 
 
 Once on a blossom-crowned day 
 Of mirth-inspiring May, 
 
 Silvio, beneath this willow’s sober shade, 
 
 In sullen contemplation laid, 
 
BIGHT HON. EICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 133 
 
 Did mock the meadow’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 scorn’d the sky of azure blue. 
 
 He scorn’d whate’er could mirth bespeak ; 
 
 He chid the beam that drank the dew. 
 
 And chid tlie gale that fann’d his glowing cheek. 
 Unpaid the season’s wanton lay. 
 
 For still he sigh’d, and said, it was not Mat^ 
 
 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, His not Spring. 
 
 “ Sweet tut’ress of music and love. 
 
 Sweet bird, if ’tis thee that I hear, 
 
 Why left you so early the grove. 
 
 To lavish your melody here ? 
 
 Cease, then, mistaken thus to sing. 
 
 Sweet nightingale ! it is not Spring. 
 
 The gale courts my locks but to tease, 
 
 And, Zephyr, I call not on thee ; 
 
 Thy fragrance no longer can 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, 
 xind 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 me. His 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, 
 
 *Sbe thus reprov’d poor Silvio’s song. 
 
134 
 
 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 
 
 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 showers, 
 
 My blossoms, my birds, and my flowers, 
 
 Were never more perfect than now. 
 
 “ The water’s reflection is true. 
 
 The green is enamell’d to view, 
 
 And Philomel sings on the spray ; 
 
 The gale is the breathing of spring, 
 
 ’Tis fragrance it bears on its wing. 
 
 And the bee is assur’d it is MayJ^ 
 
 Pardon (said Silvio with a gushing tear), 
 
 ^Tis spring, sweet nymph, hut Laura is not hereP 
 
 In sending these verses to Mrs. Sheridan, 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 feel- 
 ing 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 SILVIO. 
 
 Soft flow’d the lay by Avon’s sedgy side. 
 
 While o’er its streams the drooping willow hung, 
 
 Beneath whose shadow Silvio fondly tried 
 Tip 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, when Philomel renew’d her tale. 
 
 He chid her song, and said ‘ It was not Spring,'^ 
 
RIGHT HON. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 135 
 
 For still they bloom’d, tho’ Silvio’s heart was sad, 
 
 Nor did sweet Philomel neglect to sing ; 
 
 The zephyrs scorned them not. tho’ Silvio had, 
 
 For love and nature 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 listening crowd admires. 
 
 And see, where radiant Beauty smiling stands, 
 
 With gentle voice and soft beseeching eyes, 
 
 To gain the laurel from his willing hands, 
 
 Her every art the fond enchantress tries. 
 
 Whai 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 07 ie alone attune his lays? 
 
 Behold with graceful step and smile serene. 
 
 Majestic Stellaf moves to claim the prize : 
 
 ’Tis thine,” he cries, for thou art beauty’s queen.” 
 
 Mistaken youth ! and sees’t thou Myra’sJ 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 ; 
 
 Hers is the wreath — obey the just demand. 
 
 Pardon, bright nymph,” (the wond^ng Silvio cries) 
 
 And oh, receive the wreath thy beauty’s due” — 
 
 His voice awards what still his hand denies. 
 
 For beauteous Amoret§ 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 ? 
 
 ♦ As the poem altogether would be too long, I have here omitted five or six stanzas. 
 
 f According to the Key which has been given me, the name of Stella was meant to 
 designate the Duchess of Rutland. 
 
 J The Duchess of Devonshire. 
 
 ^ Mrs. (afterwards Lady) Crewe- 
 
MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 
 
 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,* ‘‘ 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’sf 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. 
 
 0 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 ximoret’s placid brow I’ll place — 
 
 Of elegance and love an emblem true.” 
 
 In gardens oft a beauteous flow’r there grows, 
 
 By vulgar eyes unnoticed and unseen ; 
 
 In sweet security it humbly blows. 
 
 And rears its purple head to deck the green. 
 
 This flower, as nature’s poet sweetly sings. 
 
 Was once milk-white, and heart' s-ease was its name 
 
 Till wanton Cupid pois’d his roseate wings, 
 
 A vestal’s sacred bosom to inflame; 
 
 * Lady Craven, afterwards Margravine of Anspach. 
 f The late Countess of Jersey, 
 
BIGHT HON. EICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 137 
 
 With treacherous aim the god his arrow drew, 
 
 Which she with icy coldness did repel ; 
 
 Rebounding thence with feathery speed it flew, 
 
 Till on this lojiely flower at last it fell. 
 
 Heart* 3-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-e'ftse no more, ’tis “ Love in Idleness.” 
 
 “ This flow’r with sweet-brier join’d shall thee adorn. 
 Sweet Jessie, fairest ’mid ten thousand fair! 
 
 But guard thy gentle bosom from the thorn, 
 
 Which, tho’ 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 1” 
 
 But where does Laura pass her lonely hours ? 
 
 Does she still haunt the grot and willow-tree ? 
 
 Shall Silvio from his wreath of various flowr’s 
 Neglect to cull one simple sweet for thee ? 
 
 • Ah, Laura, no,” the constant Silvio cries, 
 
 “ For thee a never-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 1 because I lov’d. 
 
188 
 
 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 
 
 ‘‘ 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. 
 
 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,’’ 
 
RIGHT HON. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 189 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 THE SCHOOL FOR SCANDAL. 
 
 Mr. Sheridan was now approaching the summit of his dra- 
 matic fame ; — he had already produced the best opera in the lan- 
 guage, and there now remained for him the glory of writing also 
 the best comedy. As this species of composition seems, more, 
 perhaps, than any other, 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 productions of very young men. Those 
 of Congreve were all written before 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- 
 twenty. 
 
 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 
 beauties 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 ap- 
 pear 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 ti acing the alchemy 
 of genius, and in watching the first slow w’’orkings of the men- 
 struum, out of which its finest transmutations arise- 
 
140 
 
 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE Cl THE 
 
 “ Genius,” says BufFon, “ is Patience or, (as another French 
 writer has explained his thought) — “ I^a Patience cherche, et le 
 Genie trouve and there is little doubt that to the co-operation 
 of these 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 times have witnessed more than one extraor- 
 dinary intellect, whose depth has not prevented their treasures 
 from lying ever ready within reach. But the records of Immor- 
 tality furnish few such instances ; and all we know of the works, 
 that she has hitherto marked with her seal, sufficiently authorize 
 the general position, — that nothing great and durable has ever 
 been produced with ease, and that Labor is the parent of all the 
 lasting wonders of this world, whether in verse or stone, whether 
 poetry or pyramids. 
 
 The first sketch of the School for Scandal that occurs was 
 written, I am inclined to think, before the Rivals, or at least very 
 soon after it ; — and that it was his original intention to satirize 
 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. 
 
 The Slanderers. — A Pump-Room Scene, 
 
 Friendly caution to the newspapers. 
 
 It is whispered 
 
 “ She is a constant attendant a1 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 he 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- 
 man’s fortune. 
 
 To be sure they do say 
 
 I hate 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 
 hour together. 
 
RIGHT HON. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 141 
 
 ‘ She had twins/ — How ill-natured ! as I hope to he saved, ma’am, she 
 had 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 dif- 
 ferent from what it is at present, Sir Peter and Lady Teazle 
 
 being at that time not in existence. 
 
 “ Lady Sneerwell 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 innuendo of Miss Niceley’s fond- 
 ness for her own footman ? 
 
 ‘‘ Spat. ’Tis in a fair train, ma’am. T told it to my hair-dresser, — he courts 
 a milliner’s girl in Pall Mall, whose mistress has a first cousin who is wait- 
 ing-woman to Lady Clackit. I think in about 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 undertake to ruin the character of the prim- 
 mest prude 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.’ — ‘ AVhat !’ cries the old deaf dowager Lady 
 Bowdwell, ‘has Miss Shepherd of Ramsgate been brought to bed of twins?’ 
 This mistake, as you may suppose, set the company a laughing. However, 
 the next day. Miss Verjuice Amarilla Lonely, who had been of the party, 
 talking of Lady Bowlwell’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 fine 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 Vv ere 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 censorious 
 Miss , 
 
142 
 
 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 
 
 Spat. None in the world,— she has always been so prudent and reserved, 
 that every body was sure thiere 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 con- 
 stitutions ; and both are cautious from their appreciation and conscious- 
 ness of their weak side, and avoid the least breath of air.* 
 
 Lady S. But, Spatter, I have something of greater confidence now to en- 
 trust 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 importance. 
 You are acquainted with my situation, but not all my weaknesses. I was 
 hurt, ill the early part of my life, by the envenom’d 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 passion. A young widow 
 with a little beauty and easy fortune is seldom driven to sue, — yet is that 
 my case. Of the many you have seen here, have you ever observed me, 
 secretly, to favor 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?f 
 
 Spat. How ! the professed lover of your ward, Maria ; between whom, 
 too, there is a mutual aftection. 
 
 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 credu- 
 lous 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 confidante of Clerimont’s love 
 for her : in return, I pretended to entrust her with my affection for Sir 
 
 ♦ This is one of fne many instances, where ir.e improving effect cf revision may be 
 traced. The passage at present stands thus : — “There are valetudinarians in reputation 
 as well as constitution ; who, being conscious of their weak part, avoid the least breath 
 of air, and supply the want of stamina by care and circumspection.’* 
 f Afterwards called Florival. 
 
HIGHT. HON. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 143 
 
 Benjamin, wlio is her warm admirer. By strong representation of my pas- 
 sion, 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 
 I have made Clerimont suspicious ; hut ’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 that follows, between Lady Sneerwell and Maria, 
 gives some insight into the use that was to be made of this intri- 
 cate ground- work,^ and it was, no doubt, the difficulty of man- 
 aging such an involvement of his personages dramatically, that 
 drove him, luckily for the world, to the construction of a sim- 
 pler, and, at the same time, more comprehensive plan. He 
 might also, possibly, have been ’ influenced by the consideration, 
 that the chief movement of this plot must depend upon the jea- 
 lousy 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, ma 
 dam, I fear what I ha e done to serve you has by some means come to his 
 knowledge, and injured me 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 be 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 ? 
 
 “ 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 cold- 
 ness in his manner of late, which I can no ways account for. 
 
 * The following’ is his own arrangement of the Scenes of the Second Act. 
 
 “Act II. Scene 1st. All. — 2d. Lady S. and Mrs. C. — 3d. Lady S. and * * Em. and Mr*. 
 C. listening. — 4th. L. S. and Flor. shows him into the room, — bids him return the other way. 
 — L. S. and Emma. — Emma and Florival ; — fits, — maid. — Emma fainting and sobbing :--i 
 
 ‘Death, don’t expose me !’ — enter maid, — will call out — all come on with cards and smell- 
 ing bottles.” 
 
144 
 
 MEMOIES OP THE LIFE OF THE 
 
 ‘‘ 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 being 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 derision, to 
 avoid one sullen hour from a moody lover. 
 
 “ Mar. Indeed, madam, you wrong me ; and you who know the appre- 
 hension of love, should make allowance for its weakness. My love for 
 Clerimont is so great — 
 
 Lady S. Peace ; it cannot exceed mine. 
 
 ‘‘ Mar. For Sir Benjamin, perhaps not, ma’am and, I am sure, Cleri- 
 
 mont has as sincere an affection for me. 
 
 “ Lady 8. 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 8. Undoubtedly ; I would not for the world — Simple fool ! {aside.) 
 But my wishes, my happiness depend on you — for, I doat so on the insen- 
 sible, that it kills me to see him so attached to you. Give me but Cleri- 
 mont, and 
 
 ‘‘ Mar. Clerimont ! 
 
 Lady 8. Sir Benjamin, you know, I meant. 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 sc ungrateful, you 
 would deny me that. 
 
 Mar. Nay, madam, have I not dune everything you wished ? For you, 
 I have departed from truth, and contaminated my mind with falsehood — 
 what could I do more to serve you ? 
 
 “ Lady 8. Well, forgive me, I was too warm. I knew you would not be- 
 tray 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 hear 
 ing it. 
 
 “ Lady 8. Oh fie, you are serious— ’tis only a little harmless raillery. 
 
 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 8. 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. 
 
KIGHT HON. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 145 
 
 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 against 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 J de- 
 serve it.” 
 
 Enter Servant. 
 
 ‘‘ Ser. Mrs. Candor. 
 
 “ Mar. Well, I’ll leave you. 
 
 ‘‘ Lady 8. No, no, you have no reason to avoid her, she is good nature 
 itself. 
 
 Mar. Yes, with an artful allectation of candor, she does more injury 
 than the worst backbiter of them all.” 
 
 Enter Mks. Candor. 
 
 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 remaiiicler of this scene the only difference in the 
 speeches of Mrs. Candor is, that they abound more than at pre- 
 sent 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 T.ady 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 
 Surface, that we perceive how imperfect may be the first linea- 
 ments, 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 
 
 VOL. r. 7 
 
146 
 
 MilMOlilS Oi" TiJE LIFE OF THE 
 
 a fu'st attempt after reading it. The spiritless language — the 
 awkward introduction of the sister into the plot — the antiquated 
 expedient* of dropping the letter — all, in short, is of the most 
 undramatic and most unpromising description, and as little like 
 what it afterwards turned to as the block is to the statue, or the 
 grub to the butterfly. 
 
 Sir O, This Clerimont is, to he sure, the drollest mortal I 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 (7. 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. 
 
 “ Gler. 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. 1 have just received a letter from the country, in which I understand 
 that my sister has suddenly left my nucleus 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 w^as 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 honor, sir — Well, my deal- friend ? 
 
 Cler. You know that you once paid your addresses to my sister. My 
 uncle disliked you ; but I have reason to think you were not indiflerent to her. 
 
 Sir B. I believe you are pretty right there ; ' ut 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 
 
 * This objection seems to have occurred to hiinseif ; for one of his memorandums is — 
 ‘‘Not to drop the letter, but lake it from the maid. 
 
RIGHT floisr. RICHARh BRlRgRRY SHERIDAN. l4? 
 
 she would have gone with me to the world's end. I am at present entirely 
 ignorant of the whole jiffair. This I declare to you upon my honor — 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 
 been 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. 
 
 Lady S. {Talcing Sir B. aside.) Sir Benjamin, I see Maria is now com- 
 ing to join us — do you detain her awhile, and I will contrive that Clerimont 
 should see you, and then drop this letter. {^Exeunt all hut Sir. B. 
 
 Enter Maria. 
 
 Mar. I thought the company were here, and Clerimont — 
 
 Sir B. One, more your slave than Clerimont, is here. 
 
 Mar. Dear Sir Benjamin, I thought you promised me to drop this sub- 
 ject. If I 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. 
 
 Mat. How can I believe your love sincere, when you continue still to 
 importune me ? ^ 
 
 Sir B. I ask but for your friendship, your esteem. 
 
 ‘‘ Mar. That you shall ever be entitled to — then I may depend upon 
 your honor ? 
 
 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 suspects 
 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 sistef. 
 
 “ Mar. Well, we had now best join the company. {^Exeunt. 
 
 “ Cler. So, now — w^ho can ever have faith in woman! D — d deceitful 
 wanton ! why did she not fairly tell me that she was weary of my address- 
 es? that, woman-like, her mind was changed, and another fool succeeded. 
 
148 
 
 Memoirs of tMe life of the 
 
 Enter Lady Sneer well. 
 
 Lady S. Clerimont, why do you leave us ? Think of my losing this 
 hand. {Gler. 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 Ben- 
 jamin ? I vow I shall be jealous of Sir Benjamin. 
 
 Cler. I dare swear they are together very happy, — but. Lady Sneer- 
 VT-ell — you may perhaps often have perceived that 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 are made the leading personages, was written subsequent- 
 ly to that of which I have just given specimens. Of this, how- 
 ever, I cannot 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 asso- 
 ciates being as wholly excluded from the one, as Sir Peter and 
 Lady Teazle are from the other ; so that it is difficult to say, 
 with certainty, which existed first, or at what time the happy 
 thought occurred of blending all that was best in each into one. 
 
 The following are the Dramatis Personae of the second plan : — 
 
 Sir Rowland Harpur. 
 
 Plausible. 
 
 Capt. Harry Plausible. 
 
 Freeman. 
 
 Old Teazle.* {Left off trade,) 
 
 Mrs. Teazle. 
 
 Maria. 
 
 ♦ 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 Clearies Surface was at first Clerimont, tfien Florival, then Cap- 
 tain Harry Plausible, then Harry Pliant or Pliable, then Young Harrier, and then Frank 
 — while his elder brother was successively Plausible, Pliable, Young Pliant, Tom, and, 
 lastly, Joseph Surface. Trip was originally called Spuiige ; the name of l?nake was m 
 the earlier sketch Spatter, and, even 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 oniiUed, Miss Verjuice. 
 
BIGHT HON. KICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 149 
 
 From this list of the personages we may conclude that the 
 quarrels of Old Teazle and his wife, the attachment between 
 Maria and one of the Plausibles, and the intrigue of Mrs. Tea- 
 zle with the other, formed the sole materials of the piece, as then 
 (.onstructed.* There is reason too to believe, from the follow- 
 ing memorandum, which occurs in various shapes through these 
 manuscripts, 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 Icve to aunt and niece — meeting ^vrong 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 thigi the other, the 
 volatilizing and condensing process which his wit must have gone 
 through, before it attained its present proof and flavor. 
 
 ‘^ACT I. — Scene I. 
 
 “ Old Teazle alone. 
 
 In the year 44 I married my first wife ; the wedding was at the end 
 of the year — aye, ’twas in December ; yet, before Ann. Dom. 45, 1 repent- 
 ed. 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 52 I find thee married again ! 
 Here, too, is a catalogue of ills — Thomas, Imrn February 12 : Jane born 
 Jan. 6 ; so they go on 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 sensiijle 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 cau- 
 tion ; she had been educated in the country ; but now she has more ex- 
 travagance 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 offence. 
 
 * This was most probably the two act Comedy,” which he announced to Mr. Linley as 
 preparing for representation in 1775. 
 
150 
 
 MEMOIKS OF THE LIFE OF THE 
 
 Enter Jarvls. 
 
 “ 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 ? 
 
 ‘‘ Jarv. 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.’ 
 
 Ttaz. 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 waggs, 50^.’ 
 
 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 1 — halters and bastinadoes 1* 
 
 ‘‘ Jarv. ‘ Paid for my lady’s own nosegays, 50/.’ 
 
 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. 
 
 ‘‘ Bir P. Nay, but, madam, then you would not wear them ; but try 
 snowballs and icicles. But tell me, madam, how- can you feel any satisfac- 
 
 * Transferred afterwards to Trip and Sir Oliver. 
 
 f 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 d ;ring this scene, which was evidently not at 
 first intended. 
 
 From the following skeleton of the scenes o this piece it would appear that (inconsis- 
 tently, in some degree, with my notion of its oeing the two act Comedy announced m 
 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. 
 
 “ Act2d, Sir P. and Lady — ^Young 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 0. J. — 2d, Y. P. and Company, Y. R. 0, R. — 3d, Y. H. and 
 Maria — Y. H., 0. R. and Young Harrier, to borrow. 
 
 “Act 4lh, Y. P. and Maria, to borrow his money ; gets away what he had receiv®< 
 from his uncle — Y. P. Old Jer. and tradesmer — p. and Lady T.’^ &c. &c. 
 
EIGHT HON. EIOHAED BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 151 
 
 tion 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 off your laced waistcoat — nay, I dare say, he wouldn’t 
 eat your gold-headed cane in a week. Indeed, if you would reserve nothing 
 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. {Reading.) .‘ Fruit for my lady’s monkey, 51. per week.’ 
 
 “ Sir P. Five pounds for a monkey ! — why ’tis a dessert for an alderman ! 
 
 Lady T. Why, Sir Peter, would you starve the poor animal ? I dare 
 swear he lives as reasonably as other monkeys do. 
 
 Sir P. Well, well, go on. 
 
 “ 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. 
 
 “ Jarv. ‘ Paid Mr. Warren for perfumes— milk of roses, 30Z.’ 
 
 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, madam, an honest coun- 
 try squire’s daughter — 
 
 “ Lady T. Oh, filthy ; don’t name it. Well, heaven forgive my mother, 
 but I do believe my father must have been a man of quality. 
 
 Sir P. Yes, madam, when first I saw you, you were dressed in a pretty 
 figured linen gown, with a bunch of keys by your side ; your occupations, 
 madam, to superintend the poultry ; your accomplishments, a complete 
 knowledge of the family receipt-book — then you satin a room hung round 
 with fruit in worsted of your own working ; your amusements were to 
 play country-dances on an old spinnet 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 capti- 
 vated me. Now, forsooth, you must have two footmen to your chair, and 
 a pair of white dogs in a phaeton ; you forget when you used to ride 
 
 double behind the butler on 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 I 
 
 Lady T. True^ I did ; and, when you asked me if I could love an old 
 fellow, who would deny me nothing, I simpered and said ‘ Till death.’ 
 
152 
 
 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 
 
 Sir P. AVhy did you say so ? 
 
 Lady T. Shall I tell you the truth? 
 
 “ Sir P, If it is not too great a favor. 
 
 Lady T. .Why, then, the truth is, I was heartily tired of all these agree* 
 able recreations you have so well remembered, and having a spirit to spend 
 and enjoy fortune, I was determined to marry the first 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.”* 
 
 * * 4; * * * * 
 
 Sir P, Then, you never had a desire to please me, or add to my hap- 
 piness ? 
 
 Lady T Sincerely, I never thought about you ; did you imagine tlifct 
 age was catching? I think you have been overpaid for all you could be- 
 stow 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 me. 
 * ***** ♦ 
 
 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 behavior too was different ; you would dress, and 
 smile, and bow ; fiy to fetch me anything I wanted ; praise every thing I did 
 or said : fatigue your stiff face with an eternal grin ; nay, you even com- 
 mitted poetry, and muffled your harsh tones into a lover’s whisper to sing 
 it yourself, so that even my mother said you were the smartest old bachelor 
 she ever saw — a billet-doux engrossed on buckram !!!!!! f 
 
 * * * * * * * 
 
 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 wo- 
 men 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 humor turning up. 
 
 In comparing the two characters in this sketch with what they 
 are at present, it is impossible not to be struck by the signal 
 
 * The speeches which T have omitted consist merely of repetitions of the same thoughts, 
 with but very little variation of the language. 
 
 t Tiiese notes of admiration are in the original, and seem meant to express the surprh»e 
 of the aullior at the extravagance of his own .ioke. 
 
RIGHT HON. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 153 
 
 change that they have undergone. The transformation of Sir Pe- 
 ter into a gentleman has refmed, without weakening, the ridicule of 
 his situation ; and there is an interest created by the respecta- 
 bility, a :d amiableness of his sentiments, which, contrary to the 
 effect produced 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 pu- 
 rity 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 Wycherly and Vanbrugh; and this want of 
 delicacy is particularly observable in the subsequent scene be- 
 tween 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 elaboration of tliis Comedy ex- 
 hibits. 
 
 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. How- 
 ever, I think we have taken care to ruin my brother’s character witli my 
 uncle, should he come to-morrow. Frank has not an ill quality in his na- 
 ture ; 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 humor ? 
 
 * The Third of the fourth Act in the present form of the Comedy. Tliis scene under- 
 went many changes afterwards, and was oftener put back into the crucible than any 
 other part of the pla 
 
 VOL. I. 
 
 7 * 
 
154 
 
 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 
 
 Lady T. Nay^ in faith you should pity me — this old curmudgeon of late 
 is growing so jealous, that I dare scarce go out, till I know he is secure 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 suspi- 
 cions to a wrong object. 
 
 Lady T. Oh, hang him ! I have told him plainly that if he continues to 
 be so suspicious. I’ll leave him entirely, and make him allow me a sepa- 
 rate maintenance. 
 
 ‘‘ Young P, But, my charmer, if ever that should be the case, you see 
 before you the man who will ever be attached to you. But you must not 
 let matters 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. 
 
 “ Ijady 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 lover who could not wake for a 
 month in absence. 
 
 “ Young P, 1 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 
 
 Ijady 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 storift, 
 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 inno- 
 
 ♦ He had not yet decided whether to make Maria the daughter-in-law or niece of Lady 
 Teazle. 
 
BIGHT HON. KICHAEI) BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 155 
 
 cence 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 canH 
 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.* 
 
 Young P. Exactly so, upon my credit, ma’am.’’ * 
 
 **♦**♦♦ 
 
 It will be observed, from all I have cited, that much of the 
 original 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 va- 
 riety of aspect, seems to have gained new grace by every change. 
 
 ‘‘ Mollescit ehur, positoque rigore 
 Subsidit digitis, ceditque ui Hymettia sole 
 Cera remollescit, tractataque pollice multas 
 Flectitur in facies^ ipsoque Jit utilis usuP 
 
 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. 
 
 I need not, I think, apologize 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 
 author’s style through the erasures and alterations of his rough 
 copy, is, in itself, no ordinary gratification of curiosity ; and the 
 hrouillon of Rousseau’s Ileloise, in the library of the Chamber Ox 
 Deputies at Paris, afibrds a study in which more than the mere 
 auceps syllabarum” might delight. But it is still more inter- 
 
 ♦ This sentence seems to have haunted him — I find it written in every direction, and 
 without any material change in its form, over the pages of his different memorandum 
 books. 
 
156 
 
 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 
 
 esting to follow thus 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 processes of the natural world 
 — to see the crystal forming by degrees round its primitive nu 
 cleus, or observe the slow ripening of 
 
 ♦ the imperfect ore, 
 
 “ And know it will be gold another day f ^ 
 
 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, 
 to strip away from tl^e thyrsus of his wit every leaf that could 
 render it less light and portable. One instance out of many 
 will show the improving effect of these operations."^ The follow- 
 ing is the original form of a speech of Sir Peter’s : — 
 
 People who utter a tale of scandal, knowing it to be forged, deserve 
 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 you 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 
 
 * Tn one or two sentences he has left a degree of slilfnessin the style, not so much from 
 inadvertence as from the sacrifice of ease to point. Thus, in the following example, he 
 has been tempted by an antithesis into an inversion of phrase by no means idiomatic. 
 “The plain slate of the matter is this — I am an extravagant young fellow ivho want 
 money to borrow; you, I lake to be a prudent old fellow who have got money to lend.’’ 
 
 In the Collection of his Works this phrase is given differently — but without authority 
 from Tny of the manuscript copies. 
 
RIGHT HON. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. lo? 
 
 thought is put at present, it will be perceived how much the wit 
 has gained in lightness and effect by the change : — 
 
 Mrs. Candor. But sure you would not be quite so severe on those who 
 only report what they hear ? 
 
 ‘‘ Sir P. Yes, madam, I would have Law-merchant for them too, and in 
 all cases of slanoer 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 epi- 
 thets ; 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 the 
 quaintness or contrast of his epithets. 
 
 Among the many rejected scraps of dialogue that lie about, 
 like the chippings of a Phidias, in this workshop 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.’' The following touch of 
 costume, too, in Sir Peter’s description of the rustic 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 poeti- 
 cal talents was taken, it will be seen, from the following verses, 
 which I find in Mr. Sheridan's hand-writing — one of those trifles, 
 perhaps, with which he and his friend Tickell were in the constant 
 habit of amusing themselves, and written apparently with the 
 'atien of ridiculing some woman of fashion : — 
 
 Then behind, all my hair is done up in ^plat. 
 
 And so, like a cornet’s, tuck’d under my hat. 
 
 ♦ Then is another simile among his memorandums of the same mercantile kind . 
 ‘ A aoit of broker L scandal, who trans'ers lies without fees.’’ « 
 
158 
 
 MEMomS OF THE LIFE OF THE 
 
 Then I moun on my palfrey as gay as a lark, 
 
 And, follow’d by John, take the dust* in High Pa’*k. 
 
 In the way I am met by some smart macaroni, 
 
 Who rides by my side on a little bay poney — 
 
 No sturdy Hibernian, with shoulders so wide, 
 
 But as taper and slim as the ponies they ride ; 
 
 Their legs are as slim, and their shoulders no wider, 
 
 Dear sweet little creatures, both poney and rider i 
 
 But sometimes, w^hen hotter, I order my chaise, 
 
 And manage, myself, my two little grays. 
 
 Sure never were seen two such sweet little ponies. 
 
 Other horses are clowns,. and these macaronies. 
 
 And to give them this title. I'm sure isn’t wong, 
 
 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 Knightsbridge and — footmen at cricket 
 I must tho’, injustice, 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 Yauxhall 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 pro- 
 gress, after he had incorporated his two first plots into one, yet, 
 even in the details of tlie new plan, considerable alterations were 
 
 * This phrase is made use of in the dialogue : — “As Lady Betty Curricle was taking Lie 
 iust in Hyde Park.” 
 
Uiam HOK. richaUd brInsL^y sheridan. 159 
 
 subsequently 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, by a minute examination of Snake, drew from him, in 
 the presence of Sir Oliver 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, look- 
 ing 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 indo- 
 lence and carelessness, while few persons, with so much natural 
 brilliancy of talents, ever employed more art and circumspec- 
 tion in their display. This was the case, remarkably, in the in- 
 stance before us. Notwithstanding the labor which he bestowed 
 upon this comedy, (or we should rather, perhaps, say in conse- 
 quence of that labor,) the first representation of the piece was 
 announced before the whole of the copy was in the hands 
 of the actors. The manuscript, indeed, of the five last scenes 
 bears evident marks of this haste in finishing,. — there being but 
 one rough draught of them scribbled upon detached pieces of 
 paper; while, of all the preceding acts, there are numerous 
 transcripts, 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- wri- 
 ting of the respective parties, at the bottom ; — 
 
160 
 
 MEMOIES OF THE LIFE OF THE 
 
 “ Finished at last. Thank God ! 
 ‘‘ Amen ! 
 
 “ R. B. Sheridan.” 
 ‘‘ W. Hopkins.”* 
 
 The cast of the play, on the first ntght of representation (May 
 8, 1777), was as follows : — 
 
 Sir Peter Teazle 
 
 
 , 
 
 
 
 
 Mr, King, 
 
 Sir Oliver Surface 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 Mr, Yates, 
 
 Joseph Surface 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 Mr, Palmer, 
 
 Charles 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 Mr, Smith, 
 
 Crabtree 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 Mr, Parsons, 
 
 Sir Benjamin Backbite 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 Mr, Dodd, 
 
 Kowley 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 Mr, Aickin, 
 
 Moses 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 Mr. Baddeley, 
 
 Trip 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 Mr, Lamash, 
 
 Snake 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 Mr. Packer, 
 
 Careless 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 Mr, Barren, 
 
 Sir Harry Bumper . 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 Mr. Gawdry. 
 
 Lady Teazle . 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 Mrs. Ahington. 
 
 Maria 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 Miss P. Hopkins 
 
 Lady Sneerwell 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 Miss Sherry. 
 
 Mrs. Candor 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 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 
 regularly 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 : — 
 
 , 1777. 
 
 £, 
 
 «. 
 
 d. 
 
 School for Scandal . 
 
 . 225 
 
 9 
 
 0 
 
 Ditto .... 
 
 . 195 
 
 6 
 
 0 
 
 Ditto A. B. (Author’s night) 
 
 73 
 
 10 
 
 0 (Expenses) 
 
 Ditto .... 
 
 . 257 
 
 4 
 
 6 
 
 Ditto .... 
 
 . 243 
 
 0 
 
 0 
 
 Ditto A. B. 
 
 . 73 
 
 10 
 
 0 
 
 Committee . . . . 
 
 66 
 
 6 
 
 6 
 
 School for Scandal 
 
 . 262 
 
 19 
 
 6 
 
 ♦ Tlie Prompts, 
 
EIGHT HON. EICHAED BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 161 
 
 Ditto 
 
 Ditto A. B 
 
 Ditto K. (the Eling) 
 
 Ditto 
 
 Ditto 
 
 263 13 6 
 73 10 0 
 272 9 6 
 247 15 0 
 255 14 0 
 
 The following extracts are taken at hazard from an account of 
 the weekly receipts of the Theatre, for the year 1778, kept with 
 txainplary neatness and care by Mrs. Sheridan herself 
 
 1778. 
 
 
 £ s. 
 
 January 3d. Twelfth Night . 
 
 . Queen Mab 
 
 . 139 14 
 
 5th. Macbeth . 
 
 . Queen Mab 
 
 . 212 19 
 
 6th. Tempest . 
 
 , Queen Mab 
 
 . 107 15 
 
 7th. School for Scandal 
 
 . Oomus 
 
 . 292 16 
 
 8th. School for Fathers 
 
 . Queen Mab 
 
 . 181 10 
 
 9th. School for Scandal 
 
 . Padlock . 
 
 . 281 6 
 
 March I4th. School for Scandal 
 
 . Deserter . 
 
 . 263 18 
 
 16th. Yenice Preserved 
 
 . Belphegor (New) 195 3 
 
 I7th. Hamlet 
 
 . Belphegor . 
 
 . 160 19 
 
 19th. School for Scandal 
 
 . Belphegor . 
 
 . 261 10 
 
 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 find the following 
 remark subjoined by the Treasurer : — “ School for Scandal 
 damped the new pieces.” 1 have traced it by the same unequiv- 
 ocal marks of success through the years 1780 and 1781, and find 
 the nights of its representation always rivalling those on which 
 the King went to the theatre, in the magnitude of their receipts. 
 
 The following note from Garrickf to the author, dated May 
 
 * It appears from a letter of Holcroft to Mrs. Sheridan, (given in his Memoirs, vol. i. p 
 275,) that she was also in the habit of reading for Sheridan the ne w 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, but remind him of 
 it.’’ 
 
 f Murphy tells us that Mr. Garrick attended the rehearsals, and “ was never known on any 
 former occasion to be more anxious for a favorite piece. He was proud of the new manager, 
 and in a triumphant manner boasted of^the genius to whom he had consigned the con- 
 duct of the theatre.” — Life of Garrick, 
 
162 
 
 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 
 
 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. Garrick’s best wishes and compliments to Mr. Sheri- 
 dan. 
 
 ‘‘ How is the Saint to-day '? A gentleman who is as mad as 
 myself about y® School remark’d, that the characters upon the 
 stage at y® falling of the screen stand too long before they speak ] 
 — ^I- thou 2 ;ht so too y® first night : — he said it was the same on y® 
 2“**, 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 this 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 oi esteem, it yet, by the admirar 
 ble skill wdth which its materials are managed, — the happy con 
 trivance 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 run- 
 ning water, to be kept fresh by its own flow, — by all this gene- 
 ral animation and effect, combined with a finish of the details al 
 most faultless, it unites the suffrages, at once, of the refined and 
 the simple, and is not less successful in ministering to the natu 
 ral enjoyment of the latter, than in satisfying and delighting the 
 most fastidious tastes among the former. And tliis is the true 
 triumph of genius in all the arts, — whether in painting, sculpture, 
 music, or literature, those works which have pleased the greatest 
 number of people of all classes, for the longest space of time, 
 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 
 to amount to defects, are, in a great measure, traceable to that 
 
BIGHT HON. RICHARi) BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 163 
 
 amalgamation of two distinct plots, out of which, as I have al- 
 ready shown, the piece was formed. From this cause, — like an 
 accumulation of wealth from the union of two rich families, — 
 has devolved that excessive opulence of wit, with which, as some 
 critics think, the dialogue is overloaded ; and which Mr. Sheri- 
 oan himself used often to mention, as a fault of which he was 
 c onscious in his work. That he had no such scruple, however, 
 in writmg it, appears evident from the pains which he took to 
 str..ng 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 manuscript, to see how the out- 
 standing 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, fi'orn be- 
 ginning to end, is a continued sparkling of polish and point : ano 
 the whole of the Dramatis Personae might be comprised unde^ 
 one common designation of Wits. Even Trip, the servant, s 
 as pointed and shining as the rest, and has his master’s wit, as he 
 has his birth-day clothes, “ with the gloss on.”'^ The only pei 
 sonage among them that shows any “ temperance in jesting,’' is 
 old Rowley ; and he, too, in the original, had his share in the 
 general largess of Ion mots , — one of the liveliest in the piecef be- 
 ing at first given to him, though afterwards transferred, with 
 somewhat more fitness, to Sir Oliver. In short, the entire Come- 
 dy 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 hyper criticism has noticed, and which 
 may likewise be traced to the original conformation of the play, 
 is the uselessness of some of the characters to the action or- 
 business of it — almost the whole of the “ Scandalous College” 
 
 * This is one of the phrases that seem to have perplexed the taste of Sheridan, — and; 
 upon so minute a point, as, whether it should be “ with the gloss on,” or, “ with the gloss 
 on them.” After various trials of it in both ways, he decided, as might be expected 
 from his love of idiom, for the former. 
 
 t The answer ^o the remark, that “ charity begins at home,” — “ and his, I presume, 
 
 IS of tl^t domestic sort which never stirs abroad at all.” 
 
164 
 
 Memoirs of the life of tHE 
 
 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, 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. Candor, though contributing abund^^nt- 
 ly to the animation of the dialogue, have hardly anything :o do 
 with the advancement of the story ; and, like the accessories in 
 a Greek drama, are but as a sort of Chorus of Scandal through- 
 out. 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 per- 
 son, 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 often 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 which such an omission would betray ; but that 
 neither of the actors, 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 lit- 
 tle 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 Eivals are cer- 
 tainly not among his most felicitous efibrts. 
 
 By some critics the incident of the screen has been censured,, 
 as a contrivance unworthy of the dignity of comedy."^ But in 
 real life, of which comedy must condescend to be the copy, 
 
 * “ In the old comedy, the catastrophe is occasioned, in general, by a change in the 
 mind of some principal character, artfully prepared and cautiously conducted ; — 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 Writings of 
 Massinger. 
 
RIGHT HOH. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 165 
 
 events of far greater importance are brought about by accidents 
 as trivial ; and in a world like ours, where the falling of an ap- 
 ple has led to the discovery of the laws of gravitation, it is sure- 
 ly too fistidious 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 com- 
 mencement of the scene, desires his servant to draw the screen 
 before the wdndow, becaitse “ his opposite neighbor is a maiden 
 lady of so anxious a temper yet, afterwards, by placing Lady 
 Teazle between the screen and the window, he enables this in- 
 quisitive lady to indulge her curiosity at leisure. It might be 
 said, indeed, that Joseph, with the alternative of exposure to 
 either the husband or neighbor, 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 perfect must be the work in which no greater fliults 
 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 dan- 
 gerous to the interests 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 fond- 
 ly insisted upon, and with a grace and spirit that might seduce 
 even creditors into admiration. It was, indeed, playfully 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 in- 
 creased 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.” 
 
166 
 
 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 
 
 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 search- 
 ing about for their prey with “ eyes that drop poison,” represexit 
 a class of persons in society who richly deserve such ridicule, 
 and who — like their prototypes in ^schylus 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. Candor” has become one (;f 
 those formidable bye-w^ords, 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 wdiich we should, in 
 real life, give the preference ; — 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 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 pur 
 pose of exposing absurdity, I should not have thought it worth 
 while to allude. 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 performances, 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 cotemporary, the motive is intelligi- 
 ble ; but, such an abstract pleasure have some persons in merely 
 
BIGHT HON. KICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 167 
 
 tiie crown? o'* Fame, that a worthy German has writ- 
 ten an elaborate book to prove, that the Iliad was written, not by 
 that particular Homer the world supposes, but by some other 
 Homer ! Indeed, if mankind were to be influenced by those Qui 
 tarn critics, who have, from time to time, in the course of the 
 history of literature, exhibited mformations of plrigiarism against 
 great authors, the property of :^me 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 cessio honorum in favor of Pisander — the 
 Metamorphoses of Ovid must be credited to the account of Par- 
 yhenius of Nicsea, and (to come to a modern instance) Mr. She- 
 if.dan 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 suggested by those of Blifil and Tom Jones ; that the 
 incident 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 borrow- 
 ed from a comedy of Moliere. ^ 
 
 Mr. Sheridan, 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’est mon bien,” said Moliere, when accused of borrowing, 
 “ et je le reprens partout ou 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 for wnich we look to the hand of genius. It is not my 
 intention therefore to defend Mr. Sheridan frftm this kind of pla- 
 giarism, of which he was guilty in common with the rest of his 
 
168 
 
 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 
 
 fellow-descendants from Prometheus, who all steal the spaili 
 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. Contrasts of character, such as 
 Charles and Joseph exhibit, are as common as the lights and 
 shadows of a landscape, and belong neither to Fielding nor She- 
 ridan, but to nature. It is in the manner of transferring them 
 to the canvas that the whole dfflference 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 of hh 
 mother, he at least had a right to consider any aid from that 
 quarter as “son bien” — talent being the only patrimony t.» 
 which he had succeeded. But the use made of the return of 
 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 delinquency, 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 seandel 
 scene is said to 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 Moliere, bears the whole frais of the 
 conversation ; and this female La Bruyere’s tedious and solitary 
 dissections of character 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 in- 
 debted to Wycherley; and he himself gave, in some degree, a 
 color to the charge, by the suspicious impatience which he be- 
 trayed whenever any allusion was made to it. He went so far, 
 indeed, it is said, as to deny having ever read a line of Wycherley 
 (though of Vanbrugh’s dialogue he alw^ays spolce wnth the warmest 
 admiration) ; — and this assertion, as w ell as some others equally 
 
EIGHT HON. EICHAED BEINSLEY SHEEIDAN. 169 
 
 remarkable, such as, that he never saw Garrick on the stage, that 
 he never had seen a play throughout in his life, hov,^ever strange 
 and startling they may appear, are, at least, too curious and cha- 
 racteristic not to be put upon record. His acquaintance with 
 Wycherley was possibly but at second-hand, and confined, per- 
 haps, to Garrick’s alteration of the Country Wife, in which the 
 incident, already mentioned as having been borrowed for the 
 Duenna, is preserved. 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. Sheridan was ignorant : as it seems to con- 
 tain much of that Hyle^ or First Matter, out of w^hich his own 
 more perfect creations were formed. 
 
 In Congreve’s Double Dealer, too, (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 Congreve about Lady Froth’s verses on her coach- 
 man — 
 
 For as the sun shines every day, 
 
 So of our coachman I may say ’’ — 
 
 is by no means unlikely to have suggested the doggerel of Sir 
 Benjamin Backbite ; and the scandalous conversation in this 
 scene, though far ' inferior in delicacy and ingenuity to that of 
 Sheridan, has somewhat, as the reader wdll 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. Aj, my dear, were you? Oh, filthy Mr. Sneer ! he is a nau- 
 seous figure, a most fulsamick fop. He spent two days together in going 
 about Covent Garden to suit the lining of his coach with his complexion. 
 
 Ld. F. Oh, silly ! yet his aunt is as fond of him, as if she bad brought 
 the ape into the world herself. 
 
 8 
 
 VOL. I. 
 
170 
 
 MEMOIES OF THE LIFE OF THE 
 
 ‘‘ Brisk. 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 them- 
 selves, but they can render other people contemptible by exposing their 
 infirmities. 
 
 Lady B\ Then that t’other great strapping Lady — I can’t hit off 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 trowel. Then 
 she has a great beard that bristles through it, and makes her look as if she' 
 w'as plastered with lime and hair, let me perish.” 
 
 It would be a task not uninteresting, to enter into a detailed 
 comparison of the characteristics and merits of Mr. Sheridan, as 
 a 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 artillery 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 appear either necessary or agreeable ; — though 
 by others, more interested in such topics, my diffuseness will, 1 
 trust, be readily pardoned. In tracking Mr. Sheridan through 
 his too distinct careers of literature and of politics, it is on the 
 highest point of his elevation 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 hiverticis um- 
 bra Parnassi ^^’^ — from which he will stand out to after times, and 
 round which, therefore, his biographer may be excused for lin- 
 gering 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 pub- 
 lished in England. He had, at one time, disposed of the copy- 
 right to Mr. Ridgway of Piccadilly, but, after repeated applica^ 
 tions from the, latter for the manuscript, he was told by Mr 
 
RIGHT HON. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 171 
 
 Sheridan, as an excuse for keeping it back, that he had been nine 
 teen years endeavoring 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 sub 
 ject. 
 
 The edition printed in Dublin is, v/ith 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 
 disposed of, for her own advantage, to the manager of the Dub- 
 lin 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 published 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. 
 
 The School for Scandal has been translated into most of the 
 languages of Europe, and, among the French particularly, has un- 
 dergone a variety of metamorphoses. A translation, midertaken, 
 it appears, with the permission of Sheridan himself, was pub- 
 lished in London, in the year 1789, by a Monsieur Bunell De- 
 liile, who, in a dedication to “ Milord Macdonald,” gives the fol- 
 lowing account of the origin of his 4ask : “ Vous savez. Milord, 
 de quelle maniere mysterieuse cette piece, qui n’a jamais ete im- 
 prime que furtivement, se trouva I’ete dernier sur ma table, en 
 manuscrit, in-folio ; et, si vous daignez vous le rappeler, apres 
 
 ♦ Among the corrections in this copy (which are in his own hand- writing, and but few 
 in number), there is one which shows not only the retentiveness of his memory, but 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 to taste again, I allow.” It was thus 
 lira. <he passage stood at first in Lady Crewe’s copy, — as it does still, too, in the Dublin 
 edition, and in that given in the Collecti r': of his W^'^^ks, — but in his final revision of this 
 copy, the original reading of the sentence, such as I iind it in all his earlier manuscripts 
 of the play, is restored. — “That’s very true, indeed. Sir Peter ; and, after having married 
 you, I am sure I should never pretend to taste again ” 
 
172 
 
 MEMOIKS OF THE LIFE OF THE 
 
 vous avoir fait part de I’aventure, je courus chez Monsieur Sheri- 
 dan pour lui demander la permission,” &c. dec. 
 
 The scenes of the Auction and the Screen were introduced, 
 for the first time, I believe, on the Trench stage, in a little piece 
 called, ‘‘ Les Deux Neveux^'' 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 
 Portraits de Famille,” “ Valsain et Tlorville,” and, at the Thea- 
 tre Frangais, under the title of the “ TartufFe d^ Moeurs.” Late- 
 ly, too, the taste for the subject has revived. The Vaudeville 
 has founded upon it a successful piece, called “ Les Deux Cou- 
 sins and there is even a melodrame at the Porte St. Martiij. 
 entitled “ L’Ecole du Scandale,” 
 
RIGHT HON. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN.* 173 
 
 CHAPTEE VI. 
 
 FURTHER PURCHASE OF THEATRICAL PROPERTY.— MON- 
 ODY TO THE MEMORY OF GARRICK. — ESSAY ON ME- 
 TRE. — THE CRITIC. — ESSAY ON ABSENTEES. — ^POLITI- 
 CAL CONNECTIONS. — THE “ ENGLISHMAN.” — ELECTED 
 FOR STAFFORD. 
 
 The document in Mr. Sheridan’s handwriting, already men- 
 tioned, from which I have stated the sums paid in 1776 by him. 
 Dr. Pord, and Mr. Linley, for Garrick’s moiety of the Drury 
 Lane Theatre, thus mentions the new purchase, by which he ex 
 tended his interest in this property in the year 1778 : — “ Mr. 
 Sheridan afterwards was obliged to buy Mr. Lacy’s moiety at a 
 price exceeding 45,000Z. : this was in the year 1778.” He then 
 adds — what it may be as well to cite, while I have the paper be- 
 fore me, though relating to subsequent changes in the property : 
 — “ In order to enable Mr. S. to complete this purpose, he after- 
 wards consented to divide his original share between Dr. Ford 
 and Mr. Linley, so as to make up each of theirs a quarter. But 
 the price at which they purchased from Mr. Sheridan was not at 
 the rate which he bought from Lacy, though at an advance on 
 the price paid to Garrick. Mr. S. has since purchased Dr. Ford’s 
 quarter for the sum of 17,000/., subject to the increased incum- 
 brance of the additional renters.” 
 
 By what spell all these thousands were conjured up, if 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 
 ^3S0urc> of Mr. Sheridan in all these later purchases. 
 
 Among the visible signs of his increased influence in the affairs 
 
174 
 
 MEMOIRS OF ME LIFE OF THE 
 
 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 W orks. This unworthy trifle (as appears from 
 a rough copy of it in my possession) was the production of Tick- 
 ell, and the patience with which his friend submitted to the im- 
 putation 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 W est Indian, in the month of March follow- 
 ing. During the interment of Garrick in Poet’s 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 follow- 
 ing fixation of the thought, in the verses which he afterwards 
 wrote, proved : — 
 
 The throng that mourn’d, as their dead favorite pass’d, / 
 
 The grac’d respect that claim’d him to the last 5 
 While Shakspeare’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 
 its author in verse, is more remarkable, perhaps, for refinement 
 and elegance, than for either novelty of thought or depth of sen- 
 timent. There is, however, a fine burst of poetical eloquence in 
 the lines beginning “ Superior hopes the poet’s bosom fire 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 Tickell’s 
 bad farce to Sheridan. There is no end to the variety of these 
 
EIGHT HOH. EICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 175 
 
 snxall missiles of malice, with which the Gullivers of the world 
 of literature 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 Clandestine Marriage : — 
 
 The painter 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 have one common grave.’^ 
 
 Colley IJibber, too, in his portrait (if I remember right) of 
 Betterton, breaks off into the same reflection, in the following 
 graceful passage, which is one of those instances, where prose 
 could not be exchanged for poetry without loss : — “ Pity it is 
 that the momentary beauties, flowing from an harmonious elo- 
 cution, 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. Eedundancy 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 
 
 * Or rather memorandums collected, as was his custom, with a view to the composition 
 of such an Essay. He had been reading the writings of Dr. Foster, Webb, &c. on this 
 sul)ject, with the intention, apparently, of publishing an answer to them. Tlie 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 de- 
 
176 
 
 MEMOIKS OF THE LIFE OF THE 
 
 nature of poetical 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 mu- 
 sical feeling, from which a much greater variety of cadence 
 might be expected, than we find throughout the versification of 
 this poem. The taste of the time, however, was not prepared 
 for any great variations in the music of the couplet. The regular 
 foot-fall, established so long, had yet been but little disturbed ; 
 and the only license of this kind hazarded through the poem — 
 “ All perishable ” — was objected to by some of the author’s 
 critical friends, who suggested, that it would be better thus : 
 ‘‘ All doom’d to perish.” 
 
 Whatever in more important points may be the inferiority of 
 
 sire a stronger proof that an author is on a wrong scent on these subjects, than to see 
 Quintilian, Aristotle, &c., quoted on a point where they have not the least business. All 
 poetry is made by the ear, w’hich must be the sole judge— -it is a sort of musical rhyth- 
 mus. If then we want to reduce our practical harmony to rules, every man, with a 
 knowledge of his own language and a good ear, is at once competent to the undertaking. 
 Let him trace it to music — if he has no knowledge, let him inquire. 
 
 “We have lost all notion of the ancient accent ; — we have lost their pronunciation ; — all 
 puzzling about it is ridiculous, and trying to find out the melody of our owm verse by theirs 
 is still w'orse. We should have had all our own metres, if we never 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, W'-hich is 
 simply (that is to say, the numerical part of poetry, which must be distinguished 
 from the imaginary) the transferring the time of melody into speaking. What then have 
 the Greeks or Romans to do v/ith our music ? It is plain that our admiration of their 
 verse is mere pedantry, because w’^e 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 Gradus or Prosodial Diction- 
 ary has never struck our scholars. The idea of looking into a book to see whether the 
 sound of a syllable be short or long is absolutely as much a bull of Boeotian pedantry as 
 ever disgraced Ireland.’’ He then adds, v/itli reference to some mistakes which Dr. Fos- 
 ter had appeared to him to have committed in his accentuation of English words 
 “What strange effects has this system brought about I It has so corrupted the ear, that 
 absolutely our scholars cannot tell an English long syllable from a short one. If a boy 
 w'ere to make the a in ‘ cano’ or ‘ amo’ long, Dr. F. would no doubt feel his ear hurt, 
 and yet ****** * *•” 
 
 Of the style in which some of his observations are committed to paper, the following Is 
 a curious specimen “Dr. Foster says that short syllables, when inflated with that em- 
 phasis 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 in vain toil to produce a little effect, but emphasis comes at once and mono- 
 polizes the power of them both.” ^ 
 
BIGHT HOK. EICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 177 
 
 the present school of poetry to that which preceded it, in the 
 music of versification there can be but little doubt of its im- 
 provement ; nor has criticism, perhaps, ever rendered a greater 
 service to the art, than in helping to unseal the ears of its wor- 
 shippers to that true spheric harmony of the elders of song, which, 
 during l long period of our literature, was as unheard as if it 
 never existed. 
 
 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, in- 
 effective 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 to 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 in- 
 stance 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 forgotten 
 in his Art, which is then deliberately compared with other Arts, 
 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 to the abstract ; 
 and, sometimes, by a false taste of personification, like that in the 
 very first line, — 
 
 If dying *ixcellence deserves a tear,” 
 
 where the substitution of a quality of the man for the man him- 
 self* puts the mind, as it were, one remove farther from the 
 
 * Another instance of this fault occurs in his song “ When sable Night — 
 
 “ As some fond mother, o’er her babe deploring, 
 
 Wakes ite beauty with a tear 
 
 where the clearness and reality of the picture are spoiled by the affectation of represent* 
 ing the beauty of U.2 cliild as waked, instead of the chi'd itself. 
 
 VOL. I. 8* 
 
178 
 
 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF 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, whc 
 could shine in the exposition of its faults ! Though insufficient, 
 perhaps, in itself, to create a reputation for an author, yet, as a 
 “ Stella CoYoncB^'^ — one of the stars in that various crown, which 
 marks the place of Sheridan in the firmament of Fame, — it not 
 only well sustains 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 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 pur- 
 pose of ridiculing Dry den, by the Duke of Buckingham ; but, 
 though there is much laughable humor in some of the dialogue 
 between Bayes 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 Pas- 
 quin, his Historical Register, his Author’s Farce, his Eurydice, 
 &c., — ^but without much success, except in the comedy of Pas- 
 quin, 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 humor, and to invent 
 even his satirical portraits — as in the instance of Sir Fretful 
 Plagiary, which, it is well known, was designed for Cumberland — 
 with a generic character, which, v/itbout weakening the particular 
 resemblance, makes them representatives for ever of the whole 
 class to which the original belonged. Bayes, on the contrary, is 
 
HIGHT HON. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 179 
 
 a caricature — made up of little more than personal peculiarities, 
 which may amuse as long as reference can be had to the proto- 
 type, but, like those supplemental features furnished from the 
 living subject by Taliacotius, fall lifeless the moment the indi- 
 vidual that supplied them is defunct. 
 
 It is evident, however, that Bayes was not forgotten in the 
 composition of The Critic. His speech, where the two Kings of 
 Brentford 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 metliinks the sense of this song is not very plain. 
 Bayes. Plain ! why did you ever hear any people in the clouds sing 
 plain? They must be all for flight of fancy at its fullest range, without 
 the least check or control upon it. When once you tie up spirits and peo- 
 ple in clouds to speak plain, you spoil all.’’ 
 
 There are particular instances of imitation still more direct. 
 Thus in The Critic : 
 
 Enter Sm Walter Raleigh and Sir Christopher Hatton. 
 
 Sir Christ, H. True, gall an': Raleigh, — 
 
 Bangle. What, had they been talking before ? 
 
 “ Bnff. Oh yes, all the way as they came along.” 
 
 In the same maimer in The Kehearsal, where the Physician 
 and Usher of the two Kings enter : — 
 
 Phys, Sir, to conclude — 
 
 Smith. What, before he begins ? 
 
 “ Bayes. No, Sir, you must know they had been talking of this a pretty 
 while without. 
 
 Smith. Where? in the tyring room? 
 
 “ Bayes. 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 tnac 
 England ever saw ; I mean not for words, for those 1 don’t value, 
 but for state, show, and magnificence.” Puff announces his 
 grand scene in much the same manner : — “ Now then for my 
 magnificence ! my battle ! my noise ! and my procession !” 
 
180 
 
 MEMOIES OF THE LIFE OF THE 
 
 In Fielding, too, we find numerous hints or germs, that hav€^ 
 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, Mth, I think I would cut that last speech. 
 
 Trapwit. Sir, ITl 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 crammed with drums and trum- 
 pets, thunder and lightning, battles and ghosts, that I believe the audience 
 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 honor of Avriting 
 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 theii 
 silence. 
 
 Medley. Sir, what they think now cannot well be spoke, but you may 
 conjecture a good deal from their shaking their 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, dis- 
 figure them, to make ’em pass for their own.”* Churchill has 
 the same idea in nearly the same language : — 
 
 “ Still pilfers wretched plans and 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 
 
 ♦ This simile was again made use of by him in a speech upon Mr. Pitt’s India Bill, wliicl 
 he declared to 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 their own.” 
 
EIGHT HON. KICHAKD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 181 
 
 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 h€ 
 wrote this year, for Miss Hannah More’s tragedy of Fatal False- 
 hood, in which there is a description of a blue-stocking lady, exe- 
 cuted 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 Ernilie^'' of Voltaire, in which her employments, as 
 a savante and a woman of the world, are thus contrasted : — 
 
 Tout lux plait^ tout convient a son vaste genie, 
 
 Les livres, les bijoux, les compas^ les pompons, 
 
 Les vers, les diamans, les herihis, Vopiique, 
 
 Valgehre, les soupers, le Latin, les jupons, 
 
 E opera, les proces, le hal, et la physiqueT 
 
 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 Gorilla’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 ^vreck of notable and wise. 
 
 Bills, books, caps, couplets, combs, a varied mass^ 
 
 Oppress the toilet and obscure the glass ; 
 
182 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 
 
 Unfinished here an epigram is laid, 
 
 And there a mantua-makeres hill unpaid. 
 
 There new-horn 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 hill of fare. 
 
 A scene she now^ projects, and now a dish. 
 
 Here Act the First, and here ‘ Remove with Fish.’ 
 
 Now, while this eye in a fine frenzy rolls. 
 
 That soberly casts up a hill for coals ; 
 
 Black pins and daggers in one leaf she sticks, 
 
 And tears, and threads, and howls, and thimhles 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 dio 
 tates of his eloquence 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 Scan- 
 dal were not worth more than ail his subsequent career, yet to 
 the individual himself, full of ambition, and conscious of versa- 
 tility 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 a 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 in- 
 stances, 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 atmos- 
 phere of fame, to remain stationary is to seem, in the eyes of 
 the spectators, to fall. He had, indeed, enjoyed only the tri- 
 umphs of talent, and without even descending to those ovations, 
 or minor triumphs, which in general are little more than cele- 
 brations of escape from defeat, and to which tney, who surpass 
 all but themselves, are often capriciously reduced. It is ques^ 
 
EIGHT HON. EICHAED BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 183 
 
 tionable, too, whether, in any other walk of literature, he would 
 have sustained the high reputation which he acquired by the drama. 
 Very rarely have dramatic writers, even of the first rank, ex- 
 hibited 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 dra- 
 matic authors (and the remark might be extended to other coun- 
 tries) who has left works woT’thy 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 mdolence a-s 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, in- 
 stead of being left, like Alexander, to sigh for new worlds to 
 vanquish, no sooner were his 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 commence- . 
 ment 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, absentes alios suspirat amoresy 
 
 E’en 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 
 then 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 expressions used in this pamphlet, that his intention was^ 
 
184 
 
 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 
 
 if not to publish it in Ireland, at least to give it the appearance 
 of having been written there — and, except the pure unmixed mo- 
 tive of rendering 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 object 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 
 itself to grave matter of fact, after the winged excursions in 
 which it had been indulging, I shall here lay some paragraphs of 
 this pamphlet 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 
 occasional irradiations of eloquence and ingenuity, expresses 
 himself: — 
 
 “ Now it must ever be the interest of the Absentee to place his estates 
 in the hands of as few tenants as possible, by which means there will be 
 less difficulty or hazard in collecting his rents, and less intrusted to an 
 agent, if his estate require one. The easiest method of effecting this is 
 by laying the land out for pasturage, and letting it in gross to those who 
 deal only in ‘ a fatal living crop ’ — whose produce we are not allowed a 
 market for when manufactured, while we want art, honesty, and encou- 
 ragement 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 
 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 be led to revenge him- 
 self on these dumb innovators of his little field — 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 dwelling on the particular ill effects of non-residence in tbi-a 
 case, I shall conclude with representing that principal and supreme pre- 
 rogative which the Absentee foregoes— the prerogative of mercy, of charity. 
 The estated resident is invested with a kind of relieving providence— a 
 power to heal the wound,s of undeserved misfortune — to hi*eak the blow^ 
 
EIGHT HON. KICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 185 
 
 of adverse fortune, and leave chance no power to undo the hopes of honest 
 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 ofiSces of humanity. This is his situation 
 who lives on the soil which furnishes him with means to live. It is his in- 
 terest to watch the devastation of the storm, the ravage of the flood — to 
 mark the pernicious extremes of the elements, and, by a judicious indul- 
 gence and assistance, to convert the sorrows and repinings of the suflerer 
 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 absence 
 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 rigor that must ever be prejudicial to an estate, and* which, 
 practised frequently, betrays either an original negligence, or want of judg- 
 ment in choosing tenants, or an 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 wx not know how much lighter an 
 impression is made by distresses related to us than by those which are 
 ' oculis subjecia Jidelibus?' The heart, the seat of charity and compassion, 
 is more accessible to the senses than the understanding. Many, w^ho 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 uniform rec- 
 titude, because he acts from the divine impulse of ‘ free love dealt equally 
 to all.’ ” 
 
 The blind selfishness of those commercial laws, which England 
 so long imposed upon Ireland, — like ligatures to check the cir- 
 culation of the empire’s life-blood, — is thus adverted to : 
 
 ‘‘ Though I have mentioned the dec'ay of trade in Ireland as insuflScient 
 to occasion the great increase of emigration, yet is it to be considered aa 
 
186 
 
 MEMOIKS OF THE LIFE OF THE 
 
 an important ill effect, arising from the same cause. It may ho said that 
 trade is now in higher repute in Ireland, and that the exports and imports 
 (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 proportion to 
 its luxuries, and those of the nations connected with it. Therefore 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 en 
 joyed in the reign of Queen Elizabeth. Trade, properly 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 industry, the balance in such 
 articles will certainly be in its favor. Thus had we in Ireland power to 
 export our manufactured silks, stuffs, and woollens, we should be assured 
 that it would be our interest to import and cultivate their materials. But, 
 as this, is not the case, the gain of individuals is no proof that the nation 
 is benefited by such commerce. For instance, the exportation of un- 
 wrought wmol may be very advantageous to the dealer, and, through his 
 hands, bring money, or a beneficial return of commodities into the king- 
 dom ; ’but trace the ill effects of depopulating such tracts of land as are 
 necessary for the support of flocks to supply this branch, and number those 
 who are deprived of support and employment 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 advantage. This would be remedied were we 
 allowed to export it manufactured ; because the husbandinan might get hi§ 
 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 export- 
 ations 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 natu- 
 rally 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. 
 
EIGHT HON. KICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 187 
 
 ‘‘ 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 
 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 con- 
 ciliating advantage of being greatly beneficial to trade and manufactures. 
 But, how singularly unfortunate is that kingdom, where the luxurious pas- 
 sions of the great beggar those who should be supported by them, — a king- 
 dom, 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 unnatural ; 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 endeavor at a free 
 trade by effecting it in reality.’^ 
 
 Having demonstrated, at some length, the general evil of ab- 
 senteeism, he thus proceeds to inquire 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 5 — therefore, we are not to consider whether it might not 
 with propriety have been guarded against, but whether a remedy or al- 
 leviation 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 pro- 
 perty 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 etitate 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 method, 
 with the disadvantage of appearing to treat as an act of delinquency what 
 in no way infringes the municipal laws of the kingdom. 
 
188 
 
 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 
 
 In the Second method the legislature is, in no respect, to be supposed 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 the 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 commodities, be exported, it is exactly the same in 
 its ultimate effects as if the grain, flocks, &c. were literally sent to England. 
 In this light, then, if the state is found to suffer by such an exportation, 
 its deducting a small 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 
 occasion 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 hut 
 the crudities of a tyro in the science, yet, at the time when they 
 were written, — when both Mr. Fox and Mr. Burke could expa 
 tiate on the state of Ireland, without a single attempt to devel 
 op 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 his 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 am- 
 bition in that direction. At what time he first became acquaint- 
 ed with Mr, Fox I have no means of ascertaining exactly. 
 Among the letters addressed to him by that statesman, there is 
 one which, from the formality of its style, must have been writ- 
 ten at the very commencement of their acquaintance — but, un- 
 luckily, it is not dated. Lord John Townshend, who first had 
 the happiness of bringing two such men together, has given the 
 following interesting account of their meeting, and of the impres- 
 sions which they left upon the minds of each other. His lord- 
 sbipi however, has not specified the period of this introduction :-rr 
 
RIGHT HON. RlCHARH BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 189 
 
 “ 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, &c. 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 w^ere 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 admiration of Fox, and that it was a puzzle to him to say 
 what he admired niost, 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 ut- 
 tered.” 
 
 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 eloquent fellow-countryman exalted, with no greater claims 
 from birth or connection than his own, could 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 
 
 ♦ 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 sub- 
 scription 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, m a spirited answer to Lord Townshend, made tlie first essay of his 
 eloquence in public. 
 
190 
 
 MEMOmS OE THE LIFE OF THE 
 
 no account to send you cf my answering Lord Townshend — of 
 hard-fought contests — spirited resolves — ballads, mobs, cockades, 
 and Lord North burnt in effigy. We have had a bloodless cam- 
 paign, but not from backwardness in our troops, but for the 
 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 appe^ired 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 ap- 
 peared, therefore, to those whom I applied to (and I think very 
 rightly) that till an advertisement was inserted 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 printer’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 to accomplish 
 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 bf a protest — be- 
 sides some pretty smart pieces of oratory, delivered upon New- 
 market Heath. I never felt so much disposition to exert my- 
 self before — I hope from my never ha\dng before so fliir a pros- 
 ))ect of doing it with success. When the coach comes in, I hope 
 I shall receive a packet from you, 'svhich 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 wffiat 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. 
 
RIGHT HOK. RICHARD BRITSTSLEY SHERIDAN. 191 
 
 “ I shall not suffer this occasion to pass over entirely without 
 benefit. 
 
 “ Believe me j vjurs most truly, 
 
 “ W. Windham. 
 
 Tell Mrs. Sheridan that I 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 first political service rendered by Mr. Sheridan to the 
 party with whom he now closely connected himself, was the ac- 
 tive share which he took in a periodical paper called The English- 
 man, 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 Sheri- 
 dan in the first Number,'^' was, like Swift in the Drapier’s Let- 
 ters, to accommodate the style of the publication to the com- 
 prehension of persons in “ that class of the community, who are 
 commonly called the honest and mdustriousT But this plan, — 
 wFich not even Swnft, independent as was his humor of the arti- 
 fices of style, could adhere to, — w^as 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 inconsistency of Lord 
 North, who had lately consented in a Committee of the w^hole 
 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 contempt, 
 under the form of a Chairman, the resolutions they had imposed 
 on themselves under the authority of a Speaker — he proceeds 
 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 : — 
 
 ♦ Published 13lh of March, 1779 
 
192 
 
 MEMOIRS 01^ THE LIFE OF THE 
 
 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 powers in the unity of 
 an apparently corporate body, might in the end compensate to you for the 
 discredit you have incuri^ed 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 Lord- 
 ship’s intentions. They would probably approach it with as much reve- 
 rence as Stephano does the monster in the Tempest ; — ‘ What, one body 
 and two voices — a most delicate monster!’ However, they would soon 
 grow familiarized to it, and probably hold it in as little respect as they 
 were wished to do. They would find it on many occasions ^ a very shallow 
 monster,’ and particularly ‘ a most poor credulous monster,’ — while Your 
 Lordship, as keeper, would enjoy every advantage and profit that could be 
 made of it. You would have the benefit of the two voices, which would be 
 the monster’s great excellencies, and would be peculiarly serviceable to 
 Your Lordship. With ^ the forward voice ’ you would aptly promulgate 
 those vigorous schemes and 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 fiattery, 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, find 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 vitu- 
 peration. 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 direct and undisguised personality, 
 with which one cabinet minister was called a liar and another a 
 coward, in this and other writings of the popular party 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 
 
KiGST HON. RICHARE BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 193 
 
 enter into an investigation of the measures and system of war which this 
 minister has pursued, — these shall certainly he the subject of a future paper. 
 At present I shall only observe that, however mortifying it may be to re- 
 flect on the ignominy and disasters which this inauspicious character has 
 brought on his country, yet there are consoling circumstances to be drawn 
 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 (pre- 
 posterously elevated to one of the first stations of honor and confidence in 
 the state) directing the military enterprises 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 : whe- 
 ther 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 
 Justitia, to place Brown Dignam on the wool-sack, 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 con- 
 ducted, and after many apologies from the publisher for its not 
 pearing at the stated times, (Wednesdays and Saturdays,) cease 
 altogether on the 2d of June. From an imperfect sketch of a 
 new Number, found among Mr. Sheridan’s manuscripts, it ap- 
 pears that there was an intention of reviving it a short time after 
 — probably towards the autumn of the same year, from the fol- 
 lowing allusion to Mr. Gibbon, whose acceptance of a seat at 
 the Board of Trade took place, if I recollect right, in the sum- 
 mer of 1779 : — 
 
 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 gentle- 
 men, — as Mr. Gibbon, for instance, — while, in private, they indulge their 
 opinion pretty freely, will yet, in their zeal for the public good, even con- 
 descend to accept a place, in order to give a color to their confidence in 
 the wisdom of the government.’’ 
 
 It is needless to say that Mr. Sheridan had been for some 
 time among the most welcome guests at Devonshire House — 
 
 VOL. I. 9 
 
194 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 
 
 that rendezvous of all the wits and beauties of foshioiiable life, 
 w’^here 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, 
 w hich are at present no where more conspicuous than in the up- 
 per ranks of society, it may be owmed that for wdt, social pow- 
 ers, and literary accomplishments, the political men of the pe- 
 riod under consideration formed such an assemblage as it would 
 be flattery to say that our owm times can parallel. The natural 
 tendency of the excesses of the French Revolution was to pro- 
 duce in the higher classes of England an increased reserve of 
 manner, and, of course, a proportionate restraint on all wdthin 
 their circle, which have been fatal to conviviality and humor, 
 and not very propitious to wit — subduing both manners and con- 
 versation to a sort of polished level, to rise above wdiich is often 
 thoiLp-ht almost as vulgar as to sink below it. Of the greater 
 •. i manners that existed some forty or fifty years ago, one 
 ^ iiiig, but not the less significant, indication w- as the habit, then 
 prevalent among men of high station, of calling each other by 
 such familiar names as Dick, Jack, Tom, &c."^ — a mode of ad- 
 dress that brings wfith it, in its very sound, the notion of con- 
 viviality and playfulness, and, however unrefined, implies, at 
 least, that ease and sea-room^ in wTich wit spreads its canvas 
 most fearlessly. 
 
 With respect to literary accomplishments, too, — in one branch 
 of w^hich, poetry, almost all the leading politicians of that day 
 distinguished themselves — -the change that has taken place in the 
 times, independently of any w^ant of such talent, wfill fully ac- 
 count for the difference that w^e witness, in this respect, at present. 
 As the public mind becomes more intelligent and w^ atchful, states- 
 men can the less afford to trifle with their talents, or to bring 
 suspicion upon their fitness for their ow n vocation, by the fail- 
 ures which they risk in deviating into others. Besides, in poetry, 
 
 ♦ Dick Slieridaiij Ned Burke, Jack Townsheiid, Tom Grenville, &c. &c. 
 
RIGHT HON. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 195 
 
 the temptation of distinction 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 monop- 
 oly of the article. 
 
 In the clever Epistle, by Tickell, ‘‘from the Hon. Charles Fox, 
 partridge-shooting, to the Hon. John To wnshend, cruising,” some 
 of the most shining persons in that assemblage of wits and states- 
 men, 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 approach attend ! 
 
 See Gibbon rap his box — auspicious sign 
 That classic compliment and wit combine ; 
 
 See Beauclerk’s cheek a tinge of red surprise, 
 
 And friendship give what cruel health denies ; — 
 ***** 
 
 * * * ♦ * 
 
 On 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 fleetiog 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 : 
 
 * The well-known lines on Brooks himself are perhaps the perfection of this drawing 
 rof'm style of humor : — 
 
 “ And know, I’ v^e bought the best cliampagne from Brooks ; 
 
 From liberal Brooks, whose speculative skill 
 Is hasty credit, and a distant bill ; 
 
 Who, nurs'd in clubs, disdains a ^allgar trade. 
 
 Exults to trust, and blushes to be paid.” 
 
196 
 
 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 
 
 Oft shall Fitzpati'ick’s wit and Stanhope’s ease 
 And Burgojne’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 be long in fixing. On the one side, his own keen thirst for 
 distinction, and on the other, a quick and sanguine appreciation 
 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 beginnmg of the year 
 1780, when the famous Resolutions on the State of the Repre- 
 sentation, signed by Mr. Fox as chairman of the Westminster 
 Committee, together with a Report on the same subject from the 
 Sub-committee, signed by Sheridan, were laid before the public. 
 Annual Parliaments and Universal Suffrage were the professed 
 objects of this meeting; and the first of the Resolutions, sub- 
 scribed 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 principle of Reform ; and the manner in which he 
 masked his disinclination or indifference to it was strongly cha- 
 racteristic both of his humor and his tact. Aware that the wild 
 scheme of CartvTight and others, which these resolutions recom- 
 mended, was wholly impracticable, 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 evi- 
 dent delight, when talking on this question, in referring to a 
 jest of Burke, who said that there had arisen a new party of Re- 
 formers, still more orthodox than the rest who thought Annual 
 
EIGHT HON. EICHAED BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 197 
 
 Parliaments far from being sufficiently frequent, and who, found- 
 ing themselves upon the latter words of the statute of Edward 
 III., that “ a parliament shall be holden every year once and 
 more often if n^ed hef were known by the denomination of the 
 Oftener-if need-hes, “ For my part,” he would add, in relating 
 this, “ I am an Oflener-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 in- 
 sidious. To Annual Parliaments and Universal Suffrage, he 
 would say, the principles of representation naturally and neces- 
 sarily led, — any less extensive proposition was a base compro- 
 mise and a dereliction 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” number of 
 people by whom the preamble recites^ that 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 (1780) afforded at lengtn Y i, -^ppoi ounity to which ms 
 ambition haa 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 honor of first cnoosing 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, what- 
 ever might be its purity in other respects, at least enjoyed the 
 freedoih of choice. Elected conjointly 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 
 
 * “Elections of knights of shires have now of late been made by very great outra- 
 geous and excessive number of people, dwelling within the same counties, of the which 
 most part was peopD of small substaince and of no value.” 8 H. 6. c. 
 
198 
 
 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 
 
 October ; — and, from that moment giving himself up to the pur- 
 suit of politics, bid adieu to the worship of the Dramatic Muse 
 for ever. 
 
 Comcedia luget ; 
 
 Scena est deserta : hinc Indus rimsque jocusque 
 Et numeri innumeri shnul omnes collacrumarunV^ 
 
 Comedy mourns — the Stage neglected sleeps — 
 
 E^en Mirth in tears his languid laughter steeps — 
 
 And Song, through all her various empire, weeps. 
 
R^.GHT HON. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 199 
 
 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 information with respect to his unfinished literary designs, 
 both iramatic 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 date 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 sufficient to show how very soon his talent for lively dialogue 
 displayed itself : — 
 
 “Scene II. 
 
 “Thornhill and Arnold. 
 
 “ 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 believe the fel- 
 low’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 honor. 
 
 “ Arn. And therefore you would deceive her. 
 
 Thorn. Why no — deceive her? — why — indeed — ^s to that — but— -but, 
 
200 
 
 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 
 
 for Gcd^s sake, let me hear no more on this subject, for, ’faith, you make 
 me sad. Jack. If you continue your admonitions, I shall be^in to think 
 you have yourself an eye on the girl. You have promised me your assist- 
 ance, 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 rose-bud — if you have a mind to beat up game in this quarter, there’s 
 her sister — but no poaching. 
 
 “ Am 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 fortune, make 
 atonement by marriage. 
 
 Thom. Such is my serious resolution. 
 
 “ A rn. 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? 
 
 Am, What, is she here ? 
 
 “ Thom, 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, has much ingratiated herself with them. She introduced me — I 
 drank, and abused this degenerate age with the father — promised wonders 
 to the mother for all her brats — praised her gooseberry wine, and ogled 
 the daughters, by which means in three days I made the progress I related 
 to you. 
 
 Am. 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 ? 
 
 Thom. 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 reduced his father fall- 
 ing out, he is returned, the most ridiculous animal you ever saw, a conceit- 
 ed, 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 labor a numerous family. 
 
 Arn. Oh ! Thornhill, can you wish to add infamy to their poverty ? 
 
 “ [Exeunt 
 
RIGHT HOH. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 201 
 
 There also remain among his papers three Acts of a Drama, 
 without a name, — written evidently in haste, and with scarcely 
 any correction, — the subject of which is so wild and unmanage- 
 able, 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 
 incursions and apparitions. In the same wood resides a hermit, 
 secretly connected with this band, who keeps secluded within 
 his cave the beautiful Eeginilla, 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 follow- 
 ing is — as well as I can make it out from a manuscript not easi- 
 ly decipherable — the scene that takes place between the fair re- 
 cluse and her visitant. The style, where style is attempted, 
 shows, as the reader will perceive, a taste yet immature and un- 
 chastened : — 
 
 Scene draws, and discovers Regdulla asleep in the .cave, 
 
 “ Enter Peyidor and other Devils, with the Huntsman — unhind 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 heart 
 acknowledges my dear, gentle Reginilla. Idl 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 {hends down towards 
 
 her.) a sigh from her heart ! — thus let me arrest tliee on thy way. {kisses 
 her.) A deeper blush has flushed her cheek — sweet modesty ! that even in 
 sleep is conscious and resentful. -She will not wake, and yet some fancy 
 yoL. I, 9^ 
 
202 
 
 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 
 
 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 ! tho’ sweet thou art, ' 
 
 Begone, and 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 in thy lap, new-born, in smiles he lay. 
 
 “ And 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 1 {seizes his hand.) ah, do not, 
 do not wake me then, {rises.) 
 
 “ 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, I can- 
 not hurt you. 
 
 Hunts. Sweet innocence, I’m sure thou would’st not. 
 
 Reg. 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 
 sw’eet excellence as thine could be hid in such a place ? 
 
 Reg. Alas, I know not — for such as thou I never saw before, nor any 
 like myself. 
 
 Hunts. Nor like thee ever shall^ — but would’st thou leave this place, 
 and live with such as I am ? 
 
 ♦ I have taken the liberty here of suiiplying a few rhymes and words that are want- 
 ing in the original copy of the song. The last line of all runs thus in the manuscript : — 
 
 “ Till lier eye shines I live in darkest night,” 
 which, not rhyming as it ought, I have ventured to alter as above. 
 
EIGHT HOH. EICHAED BEINSLEY SHEKIDAN. 203 
 
 Reg. Vfhj may not you live here with such as I? 
 
 “ Hunts. A"es — but I ’^vould carry thee where all above an azure canopy 
 extends, at night bedropt with gems, and one more glorious lamp, that 
 yields such bashful light as love enjoys — while underneath, a carpet shall 
 be spread of flowers to court the pressui’e 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. 
 
 Reg. 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, I 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 ihings 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. 
 
 “ Song. 
 
 Wilt thou then leave me ? canst thou go from me. 
 
 To woo the fair that love the gaudy day ? 
 
 Yet, e’en among those joys, thouTt find that sue, 
 
 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^ 
 
204 
 
 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 
 
 ** But, if thoult 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 thou art studious, I will read 
 Thee tales of pleasing woe — 
 
 If thou art sad, 1*11 kiss away 
 The tears that flow. 
 
 If thou would’st play, V\\ kiss thee till I blush, 
 
 Then hide that blush upon thy breast. 
 
 If thou would’st sleep 
 
 Shall rock thy aching head to rest. 
 
 ‘‘ Hunts, My souFs wonder, I will never leave thee. 
 
 “ {The Dance. — Allemande hy tioo Bears.) 
 
 “ Enter Pevidor. 
 
 “Pev. So fond, so soon! I cannot bear to see it. What fio, within 
 {Devils enter ^ secure him. {Seize and hind the Huntsman. 
 
 Tlie 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 masque- 
 rade, make a hell around him.” He is also desirous of consult- 
 ing the holy hermit of the wood, and availing himself of his pious 
 consolations and prayers — being haunted with remorse for having 
 criminally gained possession of the crown by contriving the 
 shipwreck 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 Mien a victim to these Satanic outlaws, 
 but who, on the contrary, it appears, has voluntarily become an 
 associate of their band, and is amusing himself, heedless of his 
 pob^e father’s sorrow, by making love, in the disguise of a dap- 
 
RIGHT HON. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 206 
 
 cing bear, to a young village coquette of the name of Mopsa, 
 A short specimen of the manner in which this last farcical inci- 
 dent 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 swain. 
 
 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, a 
 handsome creature. What country does your hear come from ? 
 
 “ Pev. Dis hear, please your worship}, is of de race of dat hear of St. 
 Anthony, who was the first convert he made in de woods. St. Anthony 
 hade him never more meddle with man, and de hear observed de command 
 to his dying day. 
 
 Lub. Wonderful! 
 
 Pev, Dis generation he all de same — all horn widout toots. 
 
 “ Colin, What, can’t he hite ? {pats his finger to the Bear's mouth, who 
 bites him.) Oh Lord, no toots ! why you — 
 
 ‘‘ Pev. Oh dat he only his gum. {Mopsa laughs, 
 
 “ Col. For shame, Mopsa — now, 1 say Maister Luhin, mustn’t she give 
 me a kiss to make it well ? 
 
 “ Lab. Ay, kiss her, kiss her, Colin. 
 
 Col. Come, Miss. {Mcpsa runs to the Bear, who kisses her?^ 
 
 The following scene of the Devils drinking in their subterra- 
 neous dwelling, though cleverly imagined, is such as, perhaps, no 
 cookery of style could render palatable to an English audience. 
 
 “ Scene.— -YAe Devils'^ Cave. 
 
 “ Dev. Come, Urial, here’s to our resurrection. 
 
 “ 2d Dev. It is a toast I’d scarcely pledge — hy my life, I think we’re 
 happier here. 
 
 3c? Dev Why, so tiiink I— hy Jove, I would despise the man, who could 
 
206 
 
 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 
 
 but wish to iise 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.’ 
 
 2d 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 sun 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, &c. — oh hang it ! living on the outside of the 
 earth is like sleeping on deck, when one might, like us, have a snug berth 
 in the cabin. 
 
 “ Dev. True, true, — Helial, where is thy catch ? 
 
 “In the earth’s centre let me live, 
 
 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. 
 
 “ Is^ Dev. Bravo, by this glass. Meli, what say you ? 
 
 “ 3c? Dev. Come, here’s to my Mina — I used to toast her in the upper re 
 gions. 
 
 “ Is? Ay, we miss them here. 
 
 “ Glee. 
 
 “ What’s a woman good for? 
 
 Rat me, sir, if I know. 
 
 4: 4: * 4c 
 
 She’s a savoi to tne glass, 
 
 An excuse to make it pass. 
 
 w * * * * 
 
 “ Is? Dev. I fear we are like the wits above, who abuse women only be- 
 cause 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 blessing of this ball. 
 
 ’Tis she keeps the balance of it even. 
 
RIGHT HOH. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 207 
 
 We are devils, it is true, 
 
 But had we women too, 
 
 Our Tartarus would turn to a Heaven !’ V 
 
 A scene in the Third Act, where these devils bring the prison 
 ers whom they have captured to trial, is an overcharged imita- 
 tion of the satire of Fielding, and must have been written, 1 
 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 humor and fancy as are to be found in 
 any other production of the kind. The interrogatories of Minos 
 in that work suggested, I suspect, the following scene : — 
 
 Enter a number of Devils. — Others bring in Ludovico. 
 
 Isi Dev. Just taken, in the wood, sir, with two more. 
 
 “ Chorus of Devils. 
 
 Welcome, welcome ♦ ♦ ♦ 
 
 * * * * It 
 
 Dev. What art thou ? 
 
 “ Ludov. I went for a man in the other world. 
 
 Dev. What sort of a man ? 
 
 Ludov. A soldier at your service. 
 
 Dev. Wast thou in the battle of ? 
 
 “ Ludov. Truly I was. 
 
 Dev. 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. 
 
 Dev. 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 his head — his be the reward who hits it with a single ball. 
 
 “ Jjudov. Oh mercy, mercy ! 
 
 ‘‘ Dev. Bring Savodi. 
 
 {A Devil brings in Savodi.) 
 
 “ Chorus as before. 
 
 “ Welcome, welcome, &c. 
 
 ** Pev. Who art thou ? 
 
 “ Sav. A courtier at Tour Grace’s service. 
 
208 
 
 MEMOIRS OF THE LlFE OF THE 
 
 Pev. Your name? 
 
 Sav, Savodi, an’ please Your Higlmesses. 
 
 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 
 spaniels to those a little higher, and take revenge by tyranny on all be- 
 neath ? 
 
 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’ Worships. 
 
 Pev, Thou dost not now deny it ? 
 
 Sav, Oh no, no, no. 
 
 Pev, Here — ^baths of flaming sulphur! — quick — stii* up the cauldron of 
 boiling lead — this crime deserves it. 
 
 Dev. Great Judge of this infernal place, allow him but the mercy 
 of the court. 
 
 Sav. Oh kind Devil ! — ^yes. Great Judge, allow. 
 
 1st 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 1 I shall be annihilated by the thoughts of it — dear devil. 
 
 “ 1st Dev, Then let him, I beseech you, in scalding brimstone be first soak- 
 ed 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 ? 
 
 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 my 
 fault — upon my soul, 1 never did anything to incur preferment. 
 
 Pev. Indeed 1 what was thy employment then, friend? 
 
 Pamphil. Hunting — ^ 
 
SIGHT HON. RICHAKD BRiNSLEY SHERIDAN. 209 
 
 Pev. ’Tis false. 
 
 Pamphil. Hunting women’s reputations. 
 
 “ Pev. What, thou wert amorous ? 
 
 Pamphil. No, on my honor, sir, but vain, confounded vain — the cha- 
 racter of bringing down my game was all I wished, and, like a true sports- 
 man, I would have given my birds to my pointers. 
 
 ‘‘ Pev. This crime is new — what shall we do with him?” &c. &c. 
 
 This singular Drama does not appear to have been ever fin- 
 ished. 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 ; while the young hunts- 
 man 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 of “ The Foresters.” To this 
 piece (which appears to have been undertaken at a later period 
 than the preceding one) Mr. Sheridan often alluded in conversa- 
 tion — particularly 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 com- 
 mencing, not with the loss of a son, but the recovery of a daugh- 
 ter, who had fallen by accident into the hands of these free-boot- 
 ers. 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 suspected 
 of having left with her preserver. The list of the Dramatis 
 Personre (to which however he did not afterwards adhere) is as 
 follows : — 
 
 Old Oscar. 
 
 Young Oscar. 
 
 Colona. 
 
 Morven. 
 
 Harold. ^ 
 
 Nico. 
 
210 
 
 MEMOIRS OB' IflE LIB'E OB’' THE 
 
 Miza. 
 
 Malvina. 
 
 Allanda. 
 
 Dorcas. 
 
 Emma, 
 
 To this strange medley of nomenclature is appended a memo- 
 randum — “ Vide Petrarch for names.” 
 
 The first scene represents the numerous lovers of Malvina re- 
 joicing at her return, and celebrating it by a chorus ; after which 
 Oscar, her father, holds the following dialogue with one of 
 them : — 
 
 O^c, 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 prethr any one else. 
 
 Col. 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 I 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 ? 
 
 “ Col. 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 weep — 
 formerly she seemed wholly insensible ; now, alas, she seems to feel — but 
 as if addressed by the wTong person,” &c. &c. 
 
 In a following scene are introduced two brothers, both equally 
 enamored 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 exceed- 
 ing niaiserie that he has thrown into the dialogue. For in- 
 stance ; — 
 
 ‘‘ Osc. But we are interrupted — here are two more of her lovers — bro- 
 thers, and rivals, bu : friends. 
 
EIGHT HON. KiCflAED BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 211 
 
 “ Enter Nico and Lubin. 
 
 So, Nico — how comes it you are so late in your inquiries after your 
 mistress ? 
 
 “ Eico. I should have been sooner ; but Lubin would stay to make liim- 
 self fine — though he knows that he has no chance of appearing so to Mal- 
 vina. 
 
 Lubin, No, in truth — Nico says right — I have no more chance than 
 himself. 
 
 ‘‘ 0%c. However, I am glad to see you reconciled, and that you live to- 
 gether, 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. 
 
 “ Luh. Yes, we are well matched — I think Malvina dislikes him, if pos- 
 ible, 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 donT 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’t we, 
 Lubin ? 
 
 Lubin. Yes, if I meet no crosses, I shall be undone in another twelve- 
 month — I let all go to wreck and ruin. 
 
 Osc. But suppose Malvina should be brought to give you encourage- 
 ment. 
 
 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 appearance 
 of a smile one day,’’ &c. &c. 
 
 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 uiihallow’d noise, 
 
 Its coarse delights and tainted joys. 
 
212 
 
 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 
 
 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 demonstra 
 tions 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 coloring 
 on the stage, without degenerating into farce ; and, accordingly, 
 fops and fine ladies — with very few exceptions — are about as silly 
 and tiresome in representation as in reality. But the aim of 
 the dramatist, in this comedy, would have been far more impor- 
 tant 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 memoran- 
 dum-book, that contains the only remaining vestiges of this 
 play 
 
 " An Affectation of Business. 
 
 of Accomplishments, 
 of Love of Letters and Wit 
 Music. 
 
RIGHT HON. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN 213 
 
 of Intrigue, 
 of Sensibility, 
 of Vivaeity. 
 
 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 hrst 
 leaf of which he had written in his neatest hand (as if to encour- 
 age himself to begin) “Affectation” — contains, besides the names 
 of three of the intended personages, Sir Babble Bore, Sir Pere- 
 grine 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 trachfhim in his pursuit 
 of a point, even ^yhen 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 have 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 liim — • 
 governor of all hospitals, &c. — 'ihare in llanelagh — speaker every where, 
 from the Vestrj to the House of Commons — ' I am not at home— gad, now 
 
214 
 
 MEMOIBS OF THE LIFE OF THE 
 
 he 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.’ — ‘You never sent after 
 me.’ — Let servants call in to him such a message as ‘ ’Tis nothing but the 
 window tav,’ he hiding in a room that communicates. — A young man tells 
 him some important business in the middle of fifty trivial interruptions, 
 and the calling in of idlers ; such as fidlers, wdld-beast men, foreigners with 
 recommendatory letters, &c. — answers notes on his knee, ‘ and so your 
 uncle died? — for your obliging inquiries — and left you an orphan — to 
 cards in the evening.’ 
 
 “ Can’t bear to be doing nothing. — ‘ Can I do anything for any body any 
 where T — ‘ Have been to the Secretary — written to the Treasury.’ — Must 
 proceed to meet the Commissioners, and write Mr. Price’s little boy’s exer- 
 cise.’ — The most active idler and laborious trifler. 
 
 “ He does not in reality love business — only the appearance of it. ‘ Ha ! 
 ha ! 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,’ &c. &c. 
 
 “ Contrast with the man of indolence, his brother. — ‘ So, brother, just 
 up ! and 1 have been,’ &c. &c. — one will give his money from indolent 
 generosity, the other his time from restlessness — ‘ ’Tvylll be shorter to pay 
 the bill than look for the receipt.’ — Files letters, answered and unanswered 
 ■ — ‘ Why, here are more unopened than answered !’ 
 
 “ Ho 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 — afiects to be distressed in 
 his circumstances, arid, when his new vis-a-vis comes out, procures a judg- 
 ment to be entered against him— w^ants 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 wdfe ; but sophistry and paradoxes are my mistresses — I have a strong 
 domestic respect for her, but for the Other the passion due to a mishess.’ 
 
 “ 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 pec^le out. 
 
 “ A tripping casuist, who veers by others’ breath, and gets on inforraa- 
 
EIGHT HON. EICHAED BEINSLEY SHERIDAN. 215 
 
 tion by tacking between the two sides — like a hoy, not made to go straight 
 before the wind. 
 
 The more he talks, the further 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 tw 
 people affecting intrigue, having their assignations in public places only , 
 he affecting a warm pursuit, and the lady, acting the hesitation of retreat- 
 ing virtue — Tray, ma’am, don’t you think,’ &c. — 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 arprofile. 
 
 “ 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 endeavoring to recollect an ogle, 
 like Lady , who has learned to play her eyelids like Venetian blinds.* 
 
 “ An old woman endeavoring 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 scandalize himself into the reputation of being 
 
 * This simile is repeated in various shapes through his manuscripts — “She moves her 
 eyes up and down liice Venetian blinds”— “ Her eyelids play like a Venetian blind,” 
 &c &c. 
 
216 
 
 MEMOIES OF THE LIFE OF THE 
 
 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 fhe 
 morning.’ 
 
 “ * You are yourself affected and don’t know it — ^you would pass for mo- 
 rose.* 
 
 “ 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 
 does — for he employs his fancy in his narratives, and keeps his recollec- 
 tions for his wit — when he makes his jokes you applaud the accuracy of 
 his 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 only 
 lean against 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 reduce 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 Friday 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 will 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 separate from the chancel, 
 and were they to embrace, he must hang round her neck like a skein of 
 thread on a lace-maker’s bolster — to sing her praise you should choose a 
 rondeau, and celebrate him you must write all Alexandrines. 
 
 ♦ The reaficr will find liow much this thouglit was improved upon afterwards. 
 
RIGHT HON, RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 217 
 
 “ 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 very trifling. 
 I love out-of-the-way conquests ; and as I think my attractions are singular, 
 I would draw singular objects. 
 
 “ The loadstone of true beauty draws the heaviest substances — not like 
 the fat dowager, who frets herself into warmth to get the notice of a few 
 papier mache fops, as you rub Dutch sealing-wax to drav/ 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 be by a sudden impulse. Sighs, devotion, 
 attention weigh with others ; but they are so much your due that no one 
 
 should claim merit from them 
 
 “ 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 
 myself to you that I never yet was endured 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. In 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 by 
 sonnets and rebusses — a rondeau of circumvallation — her pride sapped by 
 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 
 capitulation.’ 
 
 Her prudish frowns and resentful looks are as 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, suspect it, 
 “ The expression o.‘ 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 oppor- 
 tunity to show it. — Her features are so unfortunately formed that she 
 could never dissemble or put on sweetness enough to induce any one to 
 give her occasion to show her bitterne^. — I never saw a woman to whom 
 you would more readily give credit for perfect chastity. 
 
 VOL. I. 10 
 
218 
 
 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 
 
 Lady Clio. ‘ lYLat am I reading?’ — ^ liave I drawn nothing lately? — 
 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 ner- 
 vous 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. 
 
 A new wooden leg for Sir Charles 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 wiitten wnen he was very young, and would not much in- 
 terest the reader — while of the rest it is difficult to find four con- 
 secutive 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 dowm 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 labor, this anomalous compound to regular poetry. 
 The birth of his prose being, as we have already seen, so diffi- 
 
RIGHT HOH. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 219 
 
 cult, it may be imagined how painful was the travail of his verse. 
 Indeed, the number of tasks which he left imlinished are all so 
 many proofs of that despair of perfection, which those best quali- 
 fied to attain it are always 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. * 
 
 * * * * * Jf: 
 
 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 ankles and their wdt, 
 
 And, muc^i too short the inside to explore. 
 
 Hang like supporters, half way up the door.” 
 
 The approach of a “ veteran husband,” to disturb these flirta 
 tions 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 
 uidifferent matters, is illustrated by the following simile : 
 
 So when dramatic statesmen talk apart. 
 
 With practis’d 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 Martins of St. James’s Street, 
 
 Where the beau’s cavalry pace to and fro. 
 
 Before they take the field in Rotten Row j 
 
220 
 
 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 
 
 Where Brooks’ Blues and Weltze’s Light Dragoons 
 Dismount in files and ogle in platoons.” 
 
 He had also begun another Epilogue, directed against femala 
 gamesters, of which he himself repeated a couplet or two to 
 Mr. Rogers a 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. 
 
 ♦ * 4; 4; 
 
 Gay smiles, which once belong’d to mirth alone. 
 
 And startling 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 
 finished, has not, as far as I can learu, yet appeared in print, nor 
 am I at all aware for what occasion it was intended. 
 
 “ In this gay month when, through the sultry hour. 
 
 The vernal sun 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 and the early shade ! 
 
 But ah ! far other air our soil delights ; 
 
 Here ^ charming weather ’ is the worst of blights. 
 
 * These four lines, as I have already remarked, are taken — with little change of the 
 words, but a total alteration of the sentiment — from the verses which he addressed to 
 Mrs. Sheridan in the year 1773. See page 83. 
 
RIGHT HON. RlCHARl) RRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 22l 
 
 No genial beams rejoice our rustic train, 
 
 Their harvest’s still the better for the rain. 
 
 To summer suns our groves no tribute owe, 
 
 They thrive in 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, 
 
 No more we boast our Christmas nightingale ; 
 
 Poor Rossignol — the wonder of his day. 
 
 Sung through the winter — but is mute in May. 
 
 Then bashful spring, that gilds fair nature’s scene, 
 
 O’ercasts 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 lingering frost, nice, chilling showers, 
 
 While Nature’s — is death to ours ; 
 
 Who, witch-like, best in noxious mists perform, 
 
 Thrive in the tempest, and enjoy the storm. 
 
 0 hapless we — unless your generous care 
 Bids us no more lament that Spring is fair, 
 
 But plenteous glean from the dramatic soil, 
 
 The vernal harvest of our winter’s toil. 
 
 For, April suns to us no pleasure bring — 
 
 Your presence here is all we feel of Spring ; 
 
 May’s riper beauties here no bloom display, 
 
 Your fostering smile alone proclaims it May.” 
 
 A poem upon Windsor Castle, half ludicrous and half solemn, 
 appears, from the many experiments which he made upon it, to 
 have cost him considerable trouble. The Castle, he says, 
 
 ‘‘ Its base a mountain, and itself a rock. 
 
 In proud defiance of the tempests’ rage. 
 
 Like an old gray-hair’d veteran stands each shock — 
 
 The sturdy witness of a nobler age.” 
 
 He then alludes to the “ cockney” 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 coat embroider'd and scratch wig at top.” 
 
222 
 
 MEMOIRS OE THE LIFE OF THE 
 
 Some verses, of the same mixed character, on the short dura- 
 tion 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 colors, 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, in- 
 tended to ridicule some fliir invalid, who was much given to fall- 
 ing in love with her physicians : — 
 
 Who felt her pulse, obtained her heart.’’ 
 
 The following couplet, in which he characterizes an amiable 
 friend of his, Dr. Bain, with whom he 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 ; such as — “ The more you show, the less we wish 
 to see.” — “ And bare their bodies, as they mask their minds,” 
 &c. This poem, however, must have been undertaken many 
 years after his entrance into Parliament, as the following curious 
 political memorandum will prove : — “ I like it no better for being 
 from France — whence all ills come — altar of liberty, begrimed 
 at once with blood and mire.” 
 
RIGHT HON. RiCHARD RRiNSLEY SHERIDAN. 223 
 
 There are also some Anacreontics — lively, but boyish and^ex- 
 travagant. For instance, in expressing his love of bumpers : — 
 
 Were miue 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 
 
 “ Toujour 8 m^content de ce quHl vient de faire^ 
 
 11 plait d tout 1$ monde et ne s^aurait 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 t’ 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 ail their hopes must end in, 
 
 To give the scribbling youths a sample. 
 
 And frighten them by my example. 
 
 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 noblv virtues we are told 
 By all the rhyming crew of old. — 
 
 Drmk but a little of its well, 
 
 And strait you could both write and vspell, 
 
 While such rhyme -giving pow’rs run through i\ 
 
 A quart would make an epic poet,” &c. &o. 
 
 A poem on the miseries of a literary drudge ''legins thus pro- 
 misingly : — 
 
 ‘‘ Think ye how dear the sickly meal is Dougut, 
 
 By him who works at verse and trades in thought 
 
224 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 
 
 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 brain.” 
 
 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. 
 
RIGHT .IlON. RICfiARD BRINSLEY SHERIdAN. 2^5 
 
 CHAPTEE VIII. 
 
 HIS FIRST SPEECHES IN PARLIAMENT; — ROCKINGHAM AD- 
 MINISTRATION. — COALITION. — INDIA BILL; — RE- ELEC- 
 TION FOB STAFFORD. 
 
 The period at which Mr. Sheridan entered upon his political 
 career was, in every respect, remarkable. A persevering and 
 vindictive 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 unbiassed spectator of the contest had long foreseen, — and 
 at which, however humiliating to the haughty pretensions of Eng- 
 land, every friend to the liberties of the human race rejoiced. 
 It was, perhaps, as difficult for this country to have been long 
 and virulently opposed to such principles as the Americans as- 
 serted in this contest, without being herself corrupted by the 
 cause which she maintained, as it was for the French to have 
 fought, in the same conflict, by the side of the oppressed, without 
 catching a portion of that enthusiasm for liberty, which such an 
 alliance was calculated to inspire. Accordingly, while the voice 
 of philosophy was heard along the neighboring shores, speaking 
 aloud those oracular warnings, which preceded the death of the 
 Great Pan of Despotism, the courtiers and lawyers of England 
 were, with an emulous spirit of servility, advising and sanctioning 
 such strides of power, as would not have been unworthy of the 
 most dark and slavish times. 
 
 When we review, indeed, the history of the late reign, and 
 consider how invariably the arms and coundTh of Great Britain, 
 in her Eastern wars, her conflict 'with America, and her efforts 
 against revolutionary France, were directed to the establishment 
 VOL. I. 10 * 
 
226 
 
 MEMOIKS OF O^HE LIFE OF THE 
 
 and perpetuation of despotic principles, it seems little less than 
 a miracle that her own liberty should have escaped with life from 
 the contagion. Never, indeed, can she be sufficiently grateful to 
 the few patriot” spirits of this period, to whose courage and elo- 
 quence 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 F ox, and a Sheridan ; who, however 
 much they may have sometimes sacrificed to false views of ex- 
 pediency, and, by compromise with friends and coalition with 
 foes, too often weakened their hold upon public confidence ; how- 
 ever 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 preserved the ark of the Constitution 
 from foundering in the foul and troubled waters that encom- 
 passed it. 
 
 Not only were the public events, in which Mr. Sheridan was 
 now called to take 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 Nature seems to keep in reserve for the emioble- 
 ment of such great occasions. Two of these, Mr. Burke and 
 Mr. Fox, were already in the full maturity of their fame and 
 talent, — while the third, Mr. Pitt, was just upon the point of 
 entering, with the most auspicious promise, into the same splen- 
 did career : ' 
 
 “ Nunc cuspide Pair is 
 Inclytus, Herculeas olim moture sagittasP 
 
 Though the administration of that day, like many ocher min- 
 istries of the same reign, was chosen more for the pliancy than 
 the strength of its materials, yet Lord North himself was no or- 
 dinary man, and, in times of less difficulty and under less obsti- 
 nate 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’ aggressions upon the rights of the Colonies 
 had been committed before he succeeded to power. But his 
 readiness to follow in these rash footsteps, and to deepen every 
 
EIGHT HON. EICHARD BRINSLiJY SHERIDAN. 227 
 
 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 obse- 
 quiousness, with which he made himself the channel of the vin- 
 dictive feelings of the Court, in that memorable declaration 
 (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-humor 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 conflict, inclined them to moralize upon its causes and char- 
 acter. The hour of Lord North’s ascendant was now passing 
 rapidly away, and Mr. Sheridan could not have joined the Op- 
 position, at a conjuncture more favorable to the excitement of 
 his powers, or more bright in the views which it opened upon his 
 ambition. 
 
 He made his first speech in Parliament on the 20th of No- 
 vember, 1780, when a petition was presented to the House, com- 
 plaining of the undue election of the sitting members (himself 
 and Mr. Monckton) for Stafford. It was rather lucky for him 
 that the occasion was one in which he felt personally interestea, 
 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 
 
228 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 
 
 all the curiosity and expectation of his audience ; and according- 
 ly we are told in the report of his speech, that “ he was heard 
 with particular attention, the House being uncommonly 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 constituents, 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. 
 Sheridan, after he had spoken, came up to him in the gallery, 
 and asked, with much anxiety, what he thought of his first at- 
 tempt. The answer of Woodfall, as he had the courage after- 
 wards to own, was, “ I am sorry to say I do not think that this 
 is your line — you had much better have stuck to your former 
 pursuits.” On hearing wFich, Sheridan rested his head upon his 
 hand for a few minutes, and then vehemently 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 in- 
 distinct 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* for 
 the levity and raillery with which they treated the subject be- 
 fore the House, — thus condemning the use of that weapon in 
 
 * Feb. 26. — On the second reading of the Bill for the better regulation of His Majesty’s 
 Civil List Revenue 
 
RIGHT HON. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 229 
 
 other hands, which soon after became so formidable in his own. 
 The remarks by which Mr. Courtenay (a gentleman, whose live- 
 ly wit found afterwards a more congenial air on the benches of 
 the Opposition) provoked the reprimand of the new senator for 
 Stafford, are too humorous to be passed over without, at least, a 
 specimen of their spirit. In ridiculing the conduct of the Op- 
 position, 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 honors enjoyed by the minister and his 
 venal supporters. If he were not apprehensive of hazarding a ludicrous 
 allusion, (which he knew was always improper on a serious subject) he 
 would compare their conduct to that of the sentimental alderman in one of 
 Hogarth’s prints, who, when his daughter is expiring, wears indeed a pa- 
 rental face of grief and solicitude, but it is to secure her diamond ring which 
 he is drawing 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 discus- 
 sion. If they would not act with dignity, he thought they might, at least, 
 debate with decency. He would not attempt to answer Mr. Courtenay’s 
 arguments, for it was impossible seriously to reply to what, in every part, 
 had an infusion of ridicule in it. Two of the honorable gentlemen’s similes, 
 however, he must take notice of. The one was his having insinuated that 
 the Opposition was envious of those who basked in court sunshine ; and de- 
 sirous merely to get into their places. He begged leave to remind the honor- 
 able gentleman that, though the sun afforded a genial warmth, it also oc- 
 casioned an intemperate heat, that tainted and infected everything it re- 
 flected 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 
 honorable 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, 
 be but rarely used in liis speeches afterwards. 
 
230 
 
 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 
 
 The first important subject that drew forth any thing like a 
 display of his oratory was a motion which he made on the 5th 
 of March, 1781, “ For the better regulation of the Police of 
 Westminster.” The chief object of the motion was to expose 
 the \unconstitutional exercise of the prerogative that had been 
 assumed, in employing the military to suppress the late riots, 
 without waiting for the authority of the civil power. These dis- 
 graceful riots, which proved to what Christianly consequences 
 the cry of “No Popery” may lead, had the effect, which follows 
 all tumultuary movements of the people, of arming the Govern- 
 ment with new powers, and giving birth to doctrines and prece- 
 dents permanently dangerous to liberty. It is a little remark- 
 able that the policy of blending the army with the people and 
 considering soldiers as citizens, which both Montesquieu and 
 Blackstone recommend as favorable to freedom, should, as ap- 
 plied 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, to weaken that salutary jealousy, 
 with which the citizens of a free state should ever regard a sol- 
 dier, and thus familiarize the use of this dangerous machine, in 
 every possible service to which capricious power may apply it. 
 The Opposition did not deny that the measure of ordering out 
 the military, and empowering their officers to act at discretion 
 without any reference to the civil magistrate, was, however un- 
 constitutional, not only justifiable but wise, in a moment of such 
 danger. But the refusal of the minister to acknowledge the ille- 
 gality of the proceeding by applying to the House for an Act of 
 Indemnity, and the transmission of the same discretionary orders 
 to the soldiery throughout the country, where no such imminent 
 necessity called for it, were the points upon which the conduct 
 of the Government was strongly, and not unjustly, censured. 
 
 Indeed, the manifest design of the Ministry, at this crisis, to 
 avail themselves of the impression produced by the riots, as a 
 means of extending the frontier of their power, and fortifying 
 the doctrines by which they defended it, spread an alarm among 
 the friends of constitutional principles, which the language of 
 
RIGHT HON. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 231 
 
 some of the advocates of the Court was by no means calculated 
 to allay. Among others, a Noble Earl, — one of those awkward 
 worshippers of power, who bring ridicule alike upon their idol 
 and themselves, — had the foolish effrontery, in the House of 
 Lords, to eulogize the moderation which His Majesty had dis- 
 played, in not following the recent example of the king of Swe- 
 den, and employing the sword, with which the hour of difficulty 
 had armed him, for the subversion of the Constitution and the 
 establishment of despotic power. Though this was the mere 
 ebullition of an absurd individual, yet the bubble on the surface 
 often proves the strength of the spirit underneath, and the pub- 
 lic were justified by a combination of circumstances, in attribu- 
 ting designs of the most arbitrary nature to such a Court and 
 such an Administration. Meetings were accordingly held in 
 some of the principal counties, and resolutions passed, condemn- 
 ing the late unconstitutional employment of the military. Mr. 
 Fox had adverted to it strongly at the opening of the Session, 
 and it is a proof of the estimation in which Mr. Sheridan already 
 stood with his party, that he was the person selected to bring for 
 ward a motion, upon a subject in which the feelings of the public 
 were so much interested. In the 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 time it 
 pleases, then we might bid farewell to freedom. If this was the law, 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 disci- 
 pline or the security. But we were given to understand, that we had the 
 best protection against this evil, in the virtue, the moderation, and the con- 
 stitutional principles of the sovereign. No man upon earth thought with 
 more reverence than himself of the virtues and moderation of the sov- 
 ereign ; but this was a species of liberty which he trusi;ed would never 
 disgrace an English soil. The liberty that rested on the virtuous inclina- 
 tions of any one man, w^as but suspended despotism ; the sword was not in- 
 deed upon their necks, but it hung by the small and brittle thread of hu- 
 man will.” 
 
 The following passage of this speech affords an example of 
 that sort of antithesis of epithet, which, as has been already re- 
 marked, was one of the most favorite contrivances of his style 
 
232 
 
 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 
 
 Was not the conduct of that man or men criminal, who had permitted 
 those Justices to continue in the commission? Men of tried inability and 
 convicted deficiency ! Had no attempt been made to establish some more 
 effectual system of police, in order 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 instances 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 Mar- 
 riage Act, and which he prefaced by a speech as characteristic of 
 the ardor, 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 romantic, that they seem more fit to be addressed 
 to one of those Parliaments of Love, which were4ield during the 
 times of Chivalry, than to a grave assembly employed about the 
 sober realities of life, and legislating with a view to the infirmi- 
 ties of human nature. 
 
 The hostility of Mr. Fox to the Marriage Act was hereditary, 
 as it had been opposed with equal 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 favor of the Bill, that it would tend to keep the aristocracy of 
 the country pure, 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 property in great families, may have in- 
 fluenced 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 pilotage of parental au- 
 thority to continue till the first quicksands of youth are passed, 
 is, by the majority of the civilized world, acknowledged to be 
 desirable and beneficial. Mr. Fox, however, thought otherwise, 
 
RIGHT HOH. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 233 
 
 and though — “ bowing,” as he said, to the prejudices of man- 
 kind,” — 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 than the 
 head of age,” without limit or control, 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 marriage must have secured no ordinary de- 
 gree of attention, remarked that — 
 
 “ His honorable 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 freedom of 
 intercourse, which modern custom had introduced between the youth of 
 both sexes ; and which was. in his opinion, the best nursery of happy mar- 
 riages. Guardians would, in that case, look on their wards wltli a jealous 
 eye, from a fear that footmen and those about them might take advantage 
 of their tender years and immature judgment, and persuade them into mar- 
 riage, as soon as they attained the age of sixteen.’^ 
 
 It seems somewhat extraordinary that, during the very busy 
 interval which p<assed between Mr. Sheridan’s first appearance in 
 Parliament and his appointment under Lord Rockingham’s ad- 
 
 * In alludingdto Jlr. Fox’s too favorable estimate of the capability of very young per- 
 sons to choose for themselves, he pa^’S 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 man- 
 kind advance-as fast towards maturity of judgment and understanding as he has done.” 
 His concluding words are : — “Have mercy on the youth of i)oth sexes ; protect them 
 from their ignorance and inexperience ; protect one part of life by the wisdom of 
 ther ; protect them by the wisdom of laws and the care of nature.” 
 
234 
 
 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 
 
 ministration in 1782, he should so rarely have taken a part in 
 the debates that occurred — interesting as they were, not only 
 from the importance of the topics discussed, but from the more 
 than usual animation now infused into the warfare of parties, by 
 the last desperate struggles of the Ministry and the anticipated 
 triumph of the Opposition. Among the subjects, upon which he 
 appears to have been rather unaccountably silent, was the re- 
 newal 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 elo- 
 quence 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 dele- 
 gated 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 supplies, till pledges 
 of amendment in the administration of public affairs should be 
 given ; — the Bill for the exclusion of Excise Officers and Con- 
 tractors from Parliament, which it was reserved for a Whig Ad- 
 ministration 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 
 intellect, seem to have passed away without once calling into ac- 
 tion the powers of their new and brilliant auxiliary, Sheridan. 
 
 The affairs of Ireland, too, had assumed at this period, under 
 the auspices of Mr. Grattan and the example of America, a cha- 
 racter of grandeur, as passing as 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 patri- 
 otism she owed her brief day of freedom, and upon whose name 
 that momentary sunshine of her sad history rests. An oppor- 
 tunity of adverting to the events, which had lately laken place 
 in Ireland, was afforded by Mr. Fox in a motion for the re-com- 
 mitment of the Mutiny Bill ; and on this subject, perhaps, the 
 silence of Mr. Sheridan may be accounted for, from his reluc- 
 tance to share the unpopularity attached by his countrymen to 
 
RIGHT HOH. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 235 
 
 those high notions of the supremacy of England, which, on the 
 great question of the independence of the Irish Parliament, both 
 Mr. Fox and Mr. Burke were known to entertain.'^ 
 
 Even on the subject of the American war, which was now the 
 important point that called forth all the resources of attack and 
 defence on both sides, the co-operation of Mr. Sheridan appears 
 to have been but rare and casual. The only occasions, indeed, 
 connected 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 na- 
 val affairs of 1781, and the Resolution of censure on His Ma- 
 jesty’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, imagined in Xenophon) the speak- 
 ing 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 re- 
 maining 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 
 vote for its continuance. He did not mean, however, to insinuate any mo- 
 tives for such conduct ; — he believed the Right Hon. Gentleman to have 
 been sincere ; he believed that, as a member of Parliament, as a Privy 
 Councillor, as a private gentleman, he had always detested the American 
 war as much as any man ; but that he had never been able to persuade the 
 Paymaster that it was a bad war ; and unfortunately, in whatever charac- 
 ter he spoke, it was the Paymaster who always voted in that House.” 
 
 The infrequency of Mr. Sheridan’s exertions upon the Ameri- 
 
 ♦ As the few beautiful sentences spoken by Burke on this occasion, in support 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. Jenkinson) treat the loss of the 
 supremacy of this country over Ireland as a matter of very little consequence. Thus, 
 one star, and th»: 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 won- 
 der that it should be followed by the loss of another. — 
 
 So star would follow star, and light light, 
 
 Till a.l was darkness and eternal night” 
 
236 
 
 MEMOIES OF THE LIFE OF THE 
 
 can question combines with other circunistances to throw some 
 doubts upon an anecdote, which has been, however, communica- 
 ted to me as coming from an authority 'worthy in every respect 
 of the most implicit belief. He is said to have received, to- 
 wards the close of this war, a letter from one of the leading per- 
 sons of the American Government, expressing high admiration of 
 his talents and political principles, and informing him that the 
 sum of twenty thousand pounds had been deposited for. him in 
 the hands of a certain banker, as a mark of the value 'v^ich 
 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 wdth whom the anec- 
 dote originated) full of the most respectful gratitude 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, the gene- 
 rally high tone of his political conduct forbids us to feel any 
 doubt, — but, with respect to the credibility of the transaction 
 altogether, 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 conduct in this respect as a most striking proof 
 of his sagacity and good taste ; — such rare and unassuming dis- 
 plays 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 favor. He had, indeed, many difficul- 
 ties 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 
 ■writers but he had also to contend \vitli tliat feeling of monopoly. 
 
IliGHT BOn. RICHARB BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 23t 
 
 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, without 
 the usual qualifications of either birth or apprenticeship to entitle 
 him to it.* In an assembly, too, whose deference for rank and 
 property 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 against him, in entering into competition with the 
 sons of Lord Holland 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 ha- 
 bit 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 pur- 
 pose 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 unparalleled exertions of the Oppo- 
 
 * There is an anecdote strong-ly illustrative of this observation, quoted by Lord John 
 Russell in his able and lively work “Oc the Aflairs of Europe from the Peace of Utrecht.’’ 
 —Mr. Steele (in alluding to Sir Thomas Hanmer’s opposition to the Commercial Treaty ii. 
 1714) said, “I rise to do him honor” — on which many members who had before tried to 
 interrupt him, called out, ‘ Tatler, Tatler ;’ and as he went doWn the House, several said, 
 ‘It is not so easy a thing to speak in the House :’ ‘He fancies because he can scribble, 
 &c. &c., — Slight circumsi%.nces, indeed, (adds Lord John.) but which show at once the in- 
 disposition of the House to the Whig party, and the natural envy of mankind, long ago 
 remarked by Cicero, towards all who attempt to gain more than one kind of pre-eminence.’* 
 
238 
 
 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 
 
 sition leaders, and spoke out with a voice, always awfully intel- 
 ligible, against the men and the measures that had brought Eng- 
 land to the brink of ruin. The effect of this popular feeling 
 soon showed itself in the upper regions. The country-gentlemen, 
 those birds of political omen, whose migrations are so porten- 
 tous of a change of weather, began to flock in numbers to the 
 brightenmg quarter of Opposition ; and at last. Lord North, after 
 one or two signal defeats (in spite even of which the Court for 
 some time clung to him, as the only hope of its baffled, but per- 
 severing revenge), resigned the 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 thtis early 
 procured for him. But, however prosperous on the surface the 
 complexion of the 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 multiplicity of opinions which that very free 
 dom 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 them, at least for all intents and 
 purposes of place-holding, unanimous. 
 
 Between the two branches of Opposition that composed the 
 present 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, however 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 
 
RIGHT HON. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 239 
 
 to the affairs of India, too, and the punishment 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 favor of Mr. Hastings, 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 Con- 
 stitution were all through the wrong end of the telescope, and 
 who did not even affect to conceal his hostility to the principles 
 of his colleagues, seemed such a provision, at starting, for the 
 embarrassment 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 Ire- 
 land, “ 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 Supremacy of Great Britain, 
 which Ireland now, with arms in her hands, demand ed.“^ Mr. 
 Sheridan concurred with the Honorable Secretary in deprecating 
 such a hasty and insidious agitation of the question, but at the 
 same time expressed in a much more unhesitating manner, his 
 opinion of that Law of Subjection from which Ireland now rose 
 to release herself: 
 
 “ If he 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 reprobate the 
 motives which influenced the present mover for its repeal — but, if the house 
 divided on it, he should vote with him.’’ 
 
 * Mr. Fox, in his speech upon the Commercial Propositions of 1785, acknowledged the 
 reluctance that was felt at this period, in surrendering the power of external or commer- 
 cial legislation over Ireland ; — a power,” he said, “ which, in their struggles for inde- 
 pendence, the Irish had imprudently insisted on having abolished, and which he had him- 
 self given up in compliance with the strong prejudices of tliat nation, though with a re- 
 luctance that notliing but irresistible necessity could overcome.” 
 
240 
 
 MEMOIKS OF TilE LIFE OF THE 
 
 The general sense of the House being against the motion, it 
 was withdrawn. But the spirit of the Irish nation had advanced 
 too far on its march to be called back even bj the most friendly 
 voice. All that now remained for the ministers was to yield, 
 with a confiding frankness, what the rash measures of their pre- 
 decessors 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. F ox, was adopted. His momentary hesitation 
 was succeeded by such a prompt and generous acquiescence in 
 the full demands of the Irish Parliament, as gave all the grace of 
 a favor 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 memorable 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 Re- 
 pi esentation, brought forward by the youthful reformer, Mr. 
 William Pitt, w^hose zeal in the cause of freedom was at that 
 time, perhaps, sincere, and who little dreamed of the war he was 
 destined to wage with it afterw^ards. Mr. Fox and Mr. Sheridan 
 spoke strongly in favor of the 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 moment masters of the field. 
 xvSog o^a^s, [xivuv^a ‘Ti'Sp, 0{pp’ sri svSsi 
 Zsvg.^ 
 
 Notwithstanding all this, however, the question w^as lost by a 
 majority of 161 to 141. 
 
 Immediately on his accession to office, Mr. Sheridan received 
 the following letter from his brother Charles Francis, who had 
 
 * “And, while the moment lasts of Jove’s repose, 
 
 Make victory theirs.” 
 
 COWPEK. 
 
RIGHT HON. KICHARH BRINSLEY SHERILAN. 241 
 
 been called to the Irish bar in 1778 or 9, but was at this time 
 practising as a Special Pleader ; — 
 
 “ Dear Dick, Duhliuy March 2^ y 1782. 
 
 “ I am much obliged to you for your early intelligence con- 
 cerning the fate of the Ministry, and give you joy on the occasion, 
 notwithstanding your sorrow for the departure of the good 
 Opposition. I understand very well what you mean by this 
 sorrow — but as you may be now in a situation 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) carry 
 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 condition 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 the 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, I be- 
 lieve you will have it in your power, as I am certain it will be in 
 your inclination, to fortify my claims upon them by recommend- 
 ations 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. I wish the present 
 people may continue here, because I certainly have claims upon 
 
 them, and considering the footing that Lord C and Charles 
 
 Fox are on, a recommendation from the latter would now have 
 every weight, — it would be drawing a bill upon Government here, 
 payable at sight, which they dare not protest. So, dear L)ick, 1 
 shall rely upon you that will really be done : ^nd, to confess the 
 
 VOL. I. 
 
242 
 
 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 
 
 \ruth, unless it be done, and that speedily, I shall be complete!;) 
 ruined, for this damned annuity, payable to my uncle, plays th( 
 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 1 
 may take my measures accordingly, — and I think I may rely 
 
 upon you also that whoever comes over here as Lord L 1, 
 
 ( 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 
 resolutions 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 independency of our Parliament upon yours 
 will certainly pass our House of Commons immediately after 
 tjhe 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 
 government have been, much against their inclinations, compelled 
 to sign the most spirited Eesolutions. 
 
 “ 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 IrelandP In short, nothing will 
 satisfy the people but the mosi. unequivocal assertion of the total 
 independence of the Irish legislatu:.*e. This flame has been raised 
 within this six weeks, and is entirely owing either to the insidious 
 design or unpardonable inattention of the late administration, in 
 including, or suffering to be included, the name of Ireland in he 
 less than five British statutes passed last sessions. People hero 
 were ignorant of this till Grattan produced the five Acts to the 
 House of Commons, one of which Eden had been so imprudent 
 as to publish in the Dublin gazette. Previous to this the gene- 
 ral 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. 
 
RIGHT HON. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 243 
 
 “ The sooner you repeal the 6th of G. 1. the better ; for, be- 
 lieve me, nothing short of that can now preserve union and cor- 
 diality 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 501 . till October, as 
 I have been disappointed 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 few 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 disap- 
 pointed. 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 Revolu- 
 tion. They were betrayed, it is true, into a few awkw^ard over- 
 flowings 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 to the best of people from the best of kings'.” 
 But these first effects of the atmosphere of a court, upon heads 
 unaccustomed to it, are natural and harmless — while the mea- 
 sures that passed during that brief interval, directed against the 
 sources of Parliamentary corruption, and confirmatory of the 
 best principles of the Constitution, must ever be remembered to 
 the honor of the party from wffiich they emanated. The exclu- 
 sion of contractors from the House of Commons — the disquali- 
 
244 
 
 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 
 
 fication of revenue-officers from voting at elections— the disfran- 
 chisement of corrupt voters at Cricklade, by which a second pre- 
 cedent* was furnished towards that plan of gradual Reform, 
 which has, in our own time, been so forcibly recommended by 
 Lord John Russell — the diminution of the patronage of the 
 Crown, by Mr. Burke’s celebrated Billf — the return to the old 
 constitutional practicej of making the revenues of the Crown pay 
 off their own incumbrances, which salutary principle was again 
 lost in the hands of Mr. Pitt — the atonement at last made to 
 the violated rights of electors, by the rescinding of the Resolu- 
 tions relative to Wilkes — the frank and cordial understanding 
 entered into with Ireland, which identifies the memory of Mr. 
 Fox and this ministry with 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 Cavendish at the close of the Session, 
 pledging the ministers to a perseverance in the same task of 
 purification 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 retained 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 Conway, the Duke of 
 Richmond, and one or two other old allies of the party, remained 
 in office. 
 
 * The first was that of the borough of Shorehain in 1771. 
 
 t This Bill, though its circle of retrenchment was, as might be expected, considerably 
 narrowed, when the Treasury Bench became the centre from which he described it, was 
 yet eminently useful, as an acknowledgment from ministerial authority of the necessity 
 of such occasional curtailments of the Royal influence. 
 
 X First departed from in 1769. See Burke’s powerful exposure of the mischiefs of this 
 jinovalion, in his “ Thoughts on the Causes of the present Discontents.” 
 
EIGHT HON. KICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 245 
 
 To a disposition so social as that of Mr. Fox, the frequent in- 
 terruption and even loss of friendships, which he had to sustain 
 in the course of his political career, must have been a sad alloy 
 to its pleasure and its pride. The fable of the sheep that leaves 
 its fleece on the bramble bush is but too apt an illustration of 
 the fate of him, who thus sees himself stripped of the comforts 
 of friendship by the tenacious and thorny hold of politics. On 
 the present occasion, however, 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 fortunes. The disinterest- 
 edness of Sheridan was the more meritorious, if, as there is 
 every reason to believe, he 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 persons at the 
 time, and the assurances given by the Duke of Richmond and 
 General Conway, of the continued adherence of the cabinet to 
 the same principles and measures, to v^hich 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 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 Rock- 
 ingham party to rally, with any cordiality, round Lord Shel- 
 burne, as a leader — howe^^er they might still have been content- 
 ed to co-operate with him, had he remained in the humble sta- 
 tion which he himself had originally selected. That noble Lord, 
 too, who felt that the sacrifice which he had considerately made, 
 in giving up the supremacy of station to Lord Rockingham, had, 
 so far from being duly appreciated by his colleagues, been repaid 
 only with increased alienation and distrust, could hardly be ex- 
 pected to make a second surrender of his advantages, in favor of 
 persons who had, he thought, so ungraciously requited him for 
 the first. In the mean time the Court, to which the Rockingham 
 party was odious, had, with its usual p dicy, hollowed the ground 
 
246 
 
 MEMOIRS OF TJIE LIFE OF THE 
 
 beneath them, so as to render their footing neither agreeable nor 
 safe. The favorite object in that quarter being to compose a 
 ministry of those convenient ingredients, called “ King’s friends,” 
 Lord Shelburne was but made use of as a temporary instrument, 
 to clear away, in the first plane, the chief obstacles to such an 
 arrangement, and then, in his turn, be sacrificed himself, as soon 
 as a more subservient system could be organized. It was, in- 
 deed, 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 popular talent, 
 that the royal consent was obtained to the appointment of Mr. 
 Pitt — the memory of whose uncompromising father, asNvell 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 state 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 re- 
 dounding to the credit of their independence and disinterested- 
 ness. 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 we were desired to point out the meridian 
 moment of his fame, we should fix it perhaps at this 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. 
 It is said that, immediately upon the retirement of Mr. Fox. 
 while Lord John Cavendish (whose resignation was for a short 
 time delayed by the despatch of some oflicial business) was still 
 a minister, Mr. Burke, with a retrospect to the sweets of ofhee 
 which showed that he had not wholly left hope behind, endeav 
 ored to open a negotiation through the medium of Lord John, 
 for the purpose of procuring, by some arrangement, either for 
 himself or his son, a Tellership thou in the possession of a rela- 
 
RIGHT HON. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERILA.N. 247 
 
 tive of Lord Orford. It is but fair to add that this curious an- 
 ecdote rests chiefly upon the authority of the latter nobleman.'^ 
 The degree of faith it receives will, therefore, depend upon the 
 balance that may be struck in our comparative estimate between 
 the dismterestedness of Burke and the veracity of Lord Orford. 
 
 At the commencement of the following session that extraor- 
 dinary Coalition was declared, which had the ill-luck attributed 
 to the conjunction of certain planets, and has shed an unfavorable 
 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 dispatched with 
 the rapidity of a Siamese courtship ; and while to Mr. Eden (af- 
 terwards Lord A uckland) is attributed the credit of having gained 
 Lord North’s consent to the union, Mr. Burke is generally sup- 
 posed to have been the person, who sung the “ Hymen, oh Hy- 
 menae” 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 de- 
 fiance of public opinion, and exerted, it is said, the whole power 
 of his persuasion and reasonii]g, to turn aside his sanguine and 
 uncalcufating 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 Air. 
 Fox of the imprudence of the step he was about to take, heard 
 the latter, at parting, express his final resolution in the followdng 
 decisive words: — ‘*It is as fixed as the Hanover succession.” 
 
 To the general principle of Coalitions, and the expediency and 
 even duty of forming them, in conjunctures that require and jus- 
 tify such a sacrifice of the 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^ 
 
 * Unpublished Papers 
 
248 
 
 MEMOIES OF THE LIFE OF THE 
 
 in which Tories, surrendering their doctrines of submission, ar- 
 ray ^id themselves by the side of *Whigs, in defence of their com- 
 mon liberties. Another Coalition, less important in its object 
 and effects, but still attended with results most glorious to the 
 country, was that which took place in the year 1757, when, by a 
 union of parties from whose dissension 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, “ Non me invpedient privatce offensiones, quo minus pro 
 reiqmhlicce salute etiam cum inimicissimo consentiam'^ Such 
 cases, however, but rarely occur ; and they have been in this re- 
 spect, 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 been sufficiently general, to merge all party 
 titles in the one undistinguishing name of Englishman. By nei- 
 ther of these tests can the junction between*Lord North and ]\[r. 
 Fox be justified. The people at large, so far from calling for 
 this ill-omened alliance, would on the contrary— to use the lan- 
 guage of Mr. Pitt — 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 the 
 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, “Am- 
 bition.” 
 
 One of the most specious allegations in defence of the measure 
 IS, that the extraordinary favor which Lord Shelburne enjoyed at 
 court, and the arbitrary tendencies known to prevail in that 
 quarter, portended just then such an overflow of Royal influence, 
 as it was necessary to counteract by this double embankment of 
 party. In the first place, however, it is by no means so cer- 
 tain that the nobl^ minister at this period did actually enjo;^ 
 
EIGHT HOH. EICHAKD BKINSLEY SHERIDAN. 249 
 
 such favor. On the contrary, there is every reason to be- 
 lieve that his possession of the Royal confidence did not long 
 survive that important service, to which he was made instru- 
 mental, of clearing the cabinet of the Whigs ; and that, like the 
 bees of Virgil, he had left the soul of his own power in the 
 wound which he had been the means of inflicting upon that of 
 others. In the second place, whatever might have been the de- 
 signs of the Court, — and of its encroaching spirit no doubt can be 
 entertained, — Lord Shelburne had assuredly given no grounds 
 for apprehending, that he would ever, like one of the chiefs of 
 this combination against him, be brought to lend himself precipi- 
 tately or mischievously to its views. Though differing from Mr. 
 Fox on some important points of policy, and following the ex- 
 ample of his friend. Lord Chatham, in keeping himself indepen- 
 dent of Whig confederacies, he was not the less attached to the 
 true principles of that party, and, throughout his whole political 
 career, invariably maintained 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 unsoundness 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 opinion, on which the eyes of followers are fond- 
 ly fixed, and by which their conlidence and spirit are chiefly kept 
 alive— the more, too, we must lament that a great popular lead- 
 er, 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 color in mix- 
 ing 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. 
 
 VOL. T. 11-^ 
 
250 MEMOIES OP THE LIFE OF THE 
 
 “ 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 are commonly most governed by the latter mo- 
 tive ; 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 atmos- 
 phere of party, the more quick and inflammable we find the feel- 
 ing that circulates through it. Accordingly, actions and profes- 
 sions, which, in that region of indifference, high life, may be for- 
 gotten as soon as done or uttered, become recorded as pledges 
 and standards of conduct, among the lower and more earnest 
 adherents of the cause ; and many a question, that 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 observ- 
 ers, when the stars to which they trusted for guidance are seen 
 to “ shoot madly from their spheres,” and not only lose them- 
 selves for the time in another system, but unsettle all calcula- 
 tions with respect to their movements for the future. 
 
 The steps by which, in general, the principles in such transac- 
 tions are gradually reconciled to their own inconsistency — the 
 negotiations that precede and soften down the most salient diffi- 
 culties — the value of the advantages gained, in return for opinions 
 sacrificed — the new points of contact brought out by a change 
 of circumstances, and the abatement or extinction of former 
 differences, by the remission or removal of the causes that pro- 
 voked 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 dif 
 fer in their general views of politics, are with difficulty, if at all, 
 
 * Essay “ on the Parties of Great Britain.” 
 
RIGHT HOH. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 251 
 
 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 toe 
 intelligible fact, that the leaders for wn3m. both parties had sac- 
 rificed 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 that barter of opinions and interests, wnich must 
 necessarily take place in Coalitions between the partisans of the 
 People and of the Throne, the former had any thing like an 
 equality of chance, the mere probability of gaining thus any con- 
 cessions in favor of freedom might justify to sanguine minds the 
 occasional risk of the compromise. But it is evident that the 
 result of such bargains must generally be to the advantage of 
 the Crown — the alluvions of power all naturally tend towards 
 that shore. Besides, where there are places as w^ell as princi- 
 ples 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 
 vfill be sure to lie in that body, which contevins within it the 
 source of emoluments and honors, and the other will be forced 
 to revolve implicitly round it. 
 
 The only occasion at this period on which Mr. Sheridan seems 
 to have alluded to the Coalition, was dining 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 recrimliiate on the opposite party for the anomaly 
 of their own alliances, than to vindicate that whieh his distiiv 
 guished friend had just fomied, and which, in his heart, as has 
 been already stated, he wholly disapproved. The inconsistency 
 of the Tory Lord Advocate (Dundas) in connecting himself 
 with the patron of Equal Representation, Mr. Pitt, and his sup- 
 port of that full recognition of American independence, against 
 which, under the banners of Lord North, he had so obstinately 
 
262 
 
 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 
 
 combated, afforded to Sheridan’s powers of raillery an opportu- 
 nity of display, of which, there is no doubt, he with his accus- 
 tomed felicity availed himself. The reporter of the 'speech, 
 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 opaqu verbiage. 
 
 It was during this same debate, that he produced that happy 
 retort upon Mr. Pitt, which, for good-humored 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 
 Honorable 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 
 Honorable Gentleman\s abilities always did receive, the plaudits of the au- 
 dience ; and it would be his fortune “ sui plausu gaudere theatric But 
 this was not the proper scene for the exhibition of those elegancies.^ Mr. 
 Sheridan, in rising to explain, said that ^ On the particular sort of person- 
 ality which the Right Honorable Gentleman had thought proper to make 
 use of, he need not make any comment. The propriety, the taste, the gentle- 
 manly point of it, must have been obvious to the House. But, said Mr. 
 Sheridan, let me assure the Right Honorable gentleman, that I do now, and 
 will at any time he chooses to repeat this sort of allusion, meet it with the 
 most sincere good-humor. Nay, I will say more— flattered and encouraged 
 by the Right Honorable Gentleman’s panegyric on my talents, if ever I 
 again engage in the compositions he alludes to, I may be tempted to an act 
 of presumption — to attempt an improvement on one of Ben Jonson’sbest 
 characters, the 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, at the commencement of his political career, his pride was 
 most easily awakened and alarmed. He, himself, used to tell of 
 the frequent mortifications which he had suffered, when at school, 
 from taunting allusions to his father’s profession — being called 
 by some of his school-fellows “ the player-boy,” &c. Mr. Pitt 
 had therefore selected the most sensitive spot for his sarcasm ; 
 and the good tenuper a^s well as keenness, with which the thrust 
 
RIGHT HOK. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 253 
 
 was returned, must have been felt even through all that pride of 
 youth and talent, in which the new Chancellor of the Exchequer 
 was then enveloped. There could hardly, indeed, have been a 
 much greater service rendered to a person in the situation of 
 Mr. Sheridan, than thus affording him an opportunity of silen- 
 cing, once for all, a battery to which this w^eak point of his pride 
 w’as exposed, and by which he might otherwise have been kept 
 in continual alarm. This gentlemanlike retort, combined with 
 the recollection of his duel, tended to place him for the future 
 in perfect security against any indiscreet tamperings with his 
 personal history.'^ 
 
 In the administration, that was now forced upon the court by 
 the Coalition, Mr. Sheridan held the office of Secretary of the 
 Treasury — the other Secretary being Mr. Richard Burke, the 
 brother of the orator. His exertions in the House, while he 
 held this office, were chiefly confined to financial subjects, for 
 wffiich he, perhaps, at this time, acquired the taste, that tempted 
 him afterwards, upon most occasions, to bring his arithmetic into 
 the field against Mr. Pitt. His defence of the Receipt Tax, — 
 which, like all other long-lived taxes, was borne with difficulty,— 
 appears, as far as we can judge of it from the Report, to have 
 been highly amusing. Some country-gentleman having recom- 
 
 * The following^ jeu d'esprit, written by Sheridan himself upon this occurrence, has been 
 found among his manuscripts : — 
 
 “ Advertisement extraordinary. 
 
 “ We hear that, in consequence of a hint, lately given in the House of Commons, the 
 Play of the Alchemist is certainly to be performed by a set of Gentlemen for our diversion 
 in a private apartment of Buckingham House. 
 
 “ The Characters, thus described in the old editions of Ben Jonson, are to be represented 
 in the following manner — the old practice of men’s playing the female parts being adopt- 
 
 Subtle (the Alchemist) . 
 
 Face (the House-keeper) 
 
 Doll Common (their Colleague) 
 Drugger (a Tohacco-man) 
 Epicure Mammon . 
 Tribulation . 
 
 Ananias (a little Pastor) 
 KAotrill (the Angry E yy) 
 Dame Pijant .... 
 
 . Lord Sh— lb— e. 
 
 . The Lord Ch— 11— r. 
 
 . The L — -d Adv — c — te. 
 . Lord Eff— ng — m. 
 
 . Mr. R — by. 
 
 . Dr. J — nk — s — n. 
 
 . Mr. H— 11. 
 
 • Mr. W. P — tt. 
 
 . Gen. C — nw — y 
 
 . His » 
 
 Surly 
 
254 
 
 MEMOIES OF THE LIFE OF THE 
 
 mended a tax upon grave-stones as a substitute for it. Sheridan 
 replied that 
 
 Such a tax, indeed, was not easily evaded, and could not he deemed op- 
 pressive, as it would only be once paid ; but so great was the spirit of 
 clamor against the tax on receipts, that he should not wonder if it extend- 
 ed to them ; and that it should be asserted, that persons having paid the last 
 debt, — the debt of nature, — government had resolved they should pay a 
 receipt-tax, and have it stamped over their grave. Nay, with so extraor- 
 dinary a degree of inveteracy were some Committees in the city, and else- 
 where, actuated, that if a receipt-tax of the nature in question was enacted, 
 he should not be greatly surprised if it were soon after published, that such 
 Committees had unanimously resolved that they would never be buried, in 
 order to avoid paying the tax ; but had determined to lie above ground, or 
 have their ashes consigned to family-urns, in the manner of the ancients.^’ 
 
 He also took an active share in the discussions relative to the 
 restoration of Powell and Bembridge to their offices 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 late reign, to re- 
 tain Whigs in its service any longer than was absolutely neces- 
 sary, it must be owned that neither did the latter, in general, 
 take very courtier-like modes of continuing their connection with 
 Royalty ; but rather chose to meet the hostility of the Crown 
 half-way, 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. F ox 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 the question, “ that the task he had that day set himself 
 was extremely arduous and difficult; he knew that he had con- 
 siderable risk in it ; but when he took upon himself an office of 
 responsibility, he had made up his mind to the situation and the 
 danger of it. ’ 
 
 Without agreeing with those who impute to Mr. Fox the ex- 
 travagant design of mvesting himself, J3y means of this Bill, with 
 
RIGHT HOK. RICHARB BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 255 
 
 a sort of perpetual Whig Dictatorship, independeRt of the will of 
 the Crown, it must nevertheless be allowed that, together with 
 the interests of India, which were the main object of this decisive 
 measure, the future interests and influence of his own party were 
 in no sm.all degree provided for ; and that a foundation was laid 
 by it for their attainment of a more steady footing in power 
 than, from the indisposition of the Court towards them, they had 
 yet been able to accomplish. Eegarding — as he well might, after 
 so long an experience of Tory misrule — a government upon 
 Whig principles as essential to 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 master, he 
 would naturally welcome such an accession to the influence of 
 the party as might strengthen their 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 out- 
 bid 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 Whiggism, in its unalloyed state, into 
 the councils of the Sv/vereign, that reconciled Mr. Eox to the 
 rash step of debasing it down to the Court standard by the 
 Coalition — and, having once gained possession 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 party, 
 which, though conscious of the hazard, he was determined to 
 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 purpose of averting the plague — and would have been di- 
 rected merely against that pestilence of Toryism, under which 
 the prosperity of England had, he thought, languished so long 
 
256 
 
 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 
 
 It was hardly, however, to be expected of Royalty, — even 
 after the double humiliation which it had suffered, in being van- 
 quished by rebels under one branch of the Coalition, and brow- 
 beaten into acknowledging their independence by the other — that 
 it would tamely submit to such an undisguised invasion of its 
 sanctuary ; particularly 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 ; 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 the horn of Astolpho, soon scattered 
 the whole body in consternation among their constituents, 
 “ di qua^ di Za, di su, di giu^'‘ 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 Csesar did his 
 own 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 Arthur Pigot’s able hand was entrusted the legal 
 task of drawing the Bill. The intense interest which Burke took 
 in the affairs of India had led him to lay in such stores of infor- 
 mation on the subject, as naturally gave him the lead in all 
 deliberations connected with it. His labors 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 ; I mean the great 
 connection of Whigs in the reign of Queen Anne, ’’ 
 
EIGHT HON. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIdAN. 2o? 
 
 Burke was, indeed, at this time 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 industry incessandy in play over the minds of his more 
 indolent colleagues, with an intentness of purpose that nothing 
 could divert, and an impetuosity of temper that nothing could 
 resist, it is not wonderful that he should have gained such an 
 entire mastery over their wills, or that the party who obeyed 
 him should so long have exhibited the mark of his rash spirit 
 imprinted upon their measures. The yielding temper of Mr. 
 Fox, together with his unbounded admiration of Burke, led him 
 easily, in the first instance, to acquiesce in the views of his friend, 
 and then the ardor 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 impor- 
 tance 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 ro- 
 mance ; nor could the most candid autobiography that ever was 
 written exhibit the whole character of the man more transpa- 
 rently through it. 
 
 The death of this ill-fated Ministry was worthy of its birth. 
 Originating in a Coalition of Whigs and Tories, which compro- 
 mised the principles of freedom, it was destroyed by a Coalition 
 of King and People, which is even, perhaps, more dangerous to 
 its practice,^ The conduct, indeed, of all estates and parties, 
 
 * “ This assumption (says Burke) of the Tribunitian power by the Sovereign was truly 
 alarming. When Augustus Caesar modestly consented to become the Tribune of the peo 
 pie, Rome gave up into the hands of that prince the only remaining shield she had to pro- 
 tect her liberty. The Tribunitian power m this country, as in ancient Rome, was wisely 
 
258 MEMOIRS OE THE LIEE OE THE 
 
 during th s short interval, was any thing but laudable. The lea- 
 ven of the unlucky alliance with Lord North was but too visi- 
 ble in many of the measures of the Ministry — in the jobbing 
 terms of the loan, the resistance to Mr. Pitt’s plan of retrench- 
 ment, and the diminished numbers on the side of Parliamentary 
 Reform.* On the other hand, Mr. Pitt and his party, in their 
 eagerness for place, did not hesitate to avail themselves of the 
 ambidexterous and unworthy 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 delibera- 
 tions 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 cre- 
 ditable — while finally the people, by the unanimous outcry with 
 which they rose, in defence of the monopoly of Leadenhall Street 
 and the sovereign will of the Court, proved how little of the 
 “ vox there may sometimes be in such clamor. 
 
 Mr. Sheridan seems to have spoken but once during the dis- 
 cussions on the India Bill, and that was on the third reading, 
 when it was carried so triumphantly through th3 House of Com- 
 mons. The report of his speech is introduced with the usual 
 tantalizing epithets, “ witty,” “ entertaining,” &c. &c. ; but, as 
 usual, entails disappointment in the perusal — “ at cum intraveris^ 
 Dii Deoeque, quam nihil in medio invenies /”f There is only one 
 
 kept distinct and separate from the executive pow^r ; in this g-overnment it was constitu- 
 tionally 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 liber- 
 ties .” — Speech on moving his Representation to theKing^ in June, 1784. 
 
 ♦ The consequences of this alloy were still more visible in Ireland. “The Coalition 
 Ministry,” says Mr. Hardy, “displayed itself in various employments — but there was no 
 harmony. The old courtiers hated the new, and being more dexterous, were more suc- 
 cessful.” In stating that Lord Cbarlemont was but coldly received by the Lord Lieuten- 
 ant, Lord Northington, Mr. Hardy adds, “ It is to be presumed that some of the old Court, 
 who in consequence of the Coalition had crept once more into favor, influenced his con- 
 duct in this particular.” 
 f Plmy. 
 
HIGHT HON. KICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 269 
 
 of the announced pleasantries forthcoming, in any shape, through 
 the speech. Mr. Scott (the present Lord Eldon) had, in the 
 course of the debate, indulged in a license of Scriptural parody, 
 which he would himself, no doubt, be among the first to stigma- 
 tize as blasphemy in others, and had affected to discover the rudi- 
 ments 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 Fitz- 
 william and his fellow-commissioners, instead of being the seven 
 heads of the Beast, were seven Angels “ clothed in pure and 
 white linen !” 
 
260 
 
 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 THE PRINCE OF WALES. — FINANCIAL MEASURES. — MR. 
 
 PITT’S east INDIA BILL. — IRISH COMMERCIAL PROPO- 
 SITIONS. — PLAN OF THE DUKE OF RICHMOND. — SINK- 
 ING FUND. 
 
 The Whigs, who had now every reason to be convinced of the 
 aversion with which they were regarded at court, had latel} 
 been, in some degree, compensated for this misfortune by the ac- 
 cession 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 cir- 
 cumstanced, 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 
 
BIGHT HON. EICHABD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 261 
 
 Prince and the King, bore a close resemblance to that which had 
 disturbed the preceding reign. In both cases, the Royal parents 
 were harsh and obstinate — in botlrcases, money was the chief 
 source of dissension — and, in both cases, the genius, wit, and ac- 
 complishments of those with whom the Heir Apparent connected 
 himself, threw a splendor 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 concurrence) of absenting himself entirely from the se- 
 cond discussion, when the Bill, as it is known, was finally defeated. 
 This circumstance, occurring thus early in their intercourse, might 
 have proved to each of the parties in this ill-sorted alliance, ho^\ 
 difficult it was for them to remain long and creditably united.'^ 
 On the one side, there was a character to be maintained with the 
 people, which a too complaisant toleration of the errors of roy- 
 
 * The following sensible remarks upon the first interruption of the political connection 
 between the Heir Apparent and the Opposition, are from an unfinished life of Mr. Sheri- 
 dan now in my 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 hum- 
 ble memorial, which I have attempted, unnecessary : — 
 
 “ His Koyal Highness acted upon 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 im- 
 periously required. 
 
 “ Princes are always suspected proselytes to the popular side. Conscious of this sus- 
 picion, 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, in- 
 convenient to fulfil. Their dereliction of their principles becomes manifest and indefensi- 
 ble, in proportion to the vehemence with w’^hich they have pledged themselves always tc 
 maintain them ; r.nd the contempt and indignation which accompanir;s their retreat is 
 equivalent to the expectations excited by the boldness and deter Jiination of their ad 
 Y^ce.” 
 
262 
 
 MEMOIKS OF THE LIFE OF THE 
 
 alt^ 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 de- 
 sirable. 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, convenience 
 would certainly dictate a release from the restraints of Whig- 
 gisrn. 
 
 It was most fortunate for Mr. Sheridan, on the rout of his 
 party that ensued, to find himself safe in his seat for Stafford 
 once more, and the following document, connected with his elec- 
 tion, is sufficiently curious, 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. 
 
 284 Burgesses, paid £5 5 0 each £1,302 0 0 
 
 Yearly Expenses since. 
 
 £ s. d. 
 
 House-rent and taxes 23 6 6 
 
 Servant at 6s. per week, board wages. ... 15 12 0 
 
 Ditto, yearly wages 8 8 0 
 
 Coals, &c 10 0 0 
 
 Ale tickets 40 0 0 
 
 Half the members’ plate 25 0 0 
 
 Swearing young burgesses 10 0 0 
 
 Subscription to the Infirmary 5 5 0 
 
 Ditto Clergymen’s widows 2 2 0 
 
 Ringers 4 4 0 
 
 86 11 0 
 
 One year 143 17 6 
 
 Multiplied by years. ... 6 
 
 863 5 0 
 
 Total expense of six years’ parliament, exclusive of ex- 
 pense incurred during the time of election, and your 
 own annual expenses ? ^ ^ 
 
RIGHT HOH. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 263 
 
 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 w'hich they be- 
 stowed upon themselves of “ Fox’s Martyrs.” 
 
 This reduction in the ranks of his enemies, at the very com- 
 mencement of his career, left an open space for the youthful 
 minister, which was most favorable to the free display of his 
 energies. He had, indeed, been indebted, throughout the whole 
 struggle, full as much to a lucky concurrence of circumstances 
 as to his talents and name for the supremacy to which he so 
 rapidly rose. All the other eminent persons of the day had , ei- 
 ther deeply entangled themselves in party 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 confidence of the 
 people, and array them, as he did, in all the enthusiasm of igno- 
 rance, 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 consider- 
 ably 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 
 wisdom of the measures which he brought forward for their 
 amelioration was not only candidly acknowledged by his oppo- 
 nents 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 defi- 
 ciency 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 aocom 
 
264 
 
 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 
 
 plished it, 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 Mr. 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 part of the good fortune of the minister, that the financial de- 
 partment of Opposition at this time was not assumed by any 
 more adventurous 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 
 candor and party-feeling, absented himself almost entirely from 
 the discussion of the new taxes."^ 
 
 The only questions, in which the angry spirit of the late con- 
 flict still survived, were the W estminster Scrutiny and Mr. Pitt’s 
 East India Bill. The conduct of the minister in the former trans- 
 action showed that his victory had not brought with it those 
 generous feelings towards the vanquished, which, in the higher 
 order of minds, follows as naturally as the calm after a tempest. 
 There must, indeed, have 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 continuance 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, 
 too, with such evident fidelity, as well as spirit, that 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 
 
 * “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 hiu'self authorized to condemn them, or to give them opposition, unless he had been 
 ready to suggest others less distressing to the subject ” — Speech on Navy Bills, dc, dSs. 
 
RIGHT HON. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 265 
 
 himself and his brother Whigs, at the late unconstitutional vic- 
 tory over their party, he added, “ But you are all so void of 
 principle, in Ireland, that you cannot enter into our situation,’’ 
 Charles Sheridan, 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 time-serving politics which he has 
 set up in his answer, if not so eloquent as that of the great Ro- 
 man master of this art in his letter to L<^ntulus, is, at least, as 
 self-conscious and labored, and betrays altogether a feeling but 
 too worthy of the political meridian f^om which it issued. 
 
 ‘‘My dear Dick, Dublin Castle^ \0tti March^ 1784. 
 
 “ I am much obliged to you fo" the letter you sent me by 
 Orde ; I began to think you had forgot I was in existence, but I 
 forgive your past silence o:i account of your recent kind atten- 
 tion. The new Irish administration have come with the olive 
 branch in their hand, and very wisely, I think ; the system, the 
 circumstances, and the m.anners cf the two countries are so tew 
 tally different, that I can assure ycu 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 as- 
 sert, can possibly preserve the connection between England and 
 Ireland, but a permanent 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 which 
 England must adopt, let who will be the minister and w^hichever 
 party may acquire the ascendancy, if she means to preserve Ire- 
 land as a part of the British empire. 
 
 “You will say 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 upop 
 
 VOL I, 1 ^ 
 
266 
 
 MEMOIKS OF THE LIFE OF THE 
 
 political principles ; we have obtained all the great objects fol 
 which Ireland had contended for many years, and there does 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 be- 
 cause the spirit of the people was so far roused with respect tc 
 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 Commons, if they had not the virtue to for- 
 ward, at least wanted the courage to oppose, the general and de- 
 termined wish of the whole kingdom ; they therefore made a 
 virtue of necessity, joined the standard of a very small popular 
 party ; both Ins 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 ever appeared to act upon public princi- 
 ple, 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 fur- 
 nish any other example that will do honor to our public spirit. 
 If you reflect an instant, you will perceive that our subordinate 
 situation necessarily prevents tlie fsrmation of any party among 
 us, like those you have in England, 3omnosed 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 net 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 ust,. The object 
 of a party in England is either to obtain power for themselves, 
 or to take it from those who are in possession 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 
 
EIGHT HOH. KICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 267 
 
 bands which unite them together. Now, 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 pecu- 
 liar 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 ob- 
 vious when you reflect, that we have in fact no Irish government ; 
 all power here being lodged in a branch of the English govern- 
 ment, 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, there- 
 fore, 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 ob- 
 ject, and the latter you must acknowledge 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 fluctuation in the affairs 
 of this country, that would destroy all their consequence ; and, 
 as to the personal friends which a party in England may possi- 
 bly have in this country, they must in the nature of things be 
 
268 
 
 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 
 
 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 honors, and to rest all their 
 pretensions upon the success of a party in another kingdom, 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 connected with a par- 
 ty in England. What therefore could they gain by such a con- 
 nection ? 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 obtained power,, and only the chance, foi 
 there are interests in this country which must not be offended ; 
 and the certainty of going out whenever their friends in Eng- 
 land 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 station upon 
 a most precarious footing, in which they would be placed in the 
 insignificant predicament of doing nothing for themselves, and 
 resting their hopes and ambition upon the labors 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 millions are Roman Catholics — I believe the 
 proportion is still larger — and two-thirds of the remainder 
 are violent rank Presbyterians, who have always been, but most 
 particularly of late, strongly averse to all government placed in 
 the hands of the members of the church of England ; nine-tenths 
 of the property, the landed property of the country I mean, is 
 in the possession of the latter, You will readily conceive how 
 
RIGHT HON. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 269 
 
 much these circumstances must give persons of property in this 
 kingdom a leaning towards government ; ho w 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 numbers pre- 
 vents their finding among themselves ; and consequently you 
 will equally perceive that those political or party principles 
 which create such serious differences among you in England, are 
 matters of small importance to the persons of landed property 
 in this country, when compared with the necessity of their hav- 
 ing the constant support of an English government. Here, my 
 dear Dick, is a very long answer to a very few 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 can- 
 not enter into your situation.’ 
 
 “ I have received with the greatest pleasure the accounts of 
 the very considerable figure you have made this sessions in the 
 House of Commons. As I have no doubt but that your Parlia- 
 ment will be dissolved, God send you success a second time at 
 Stafford, and the same to your friend at Westminster. 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 re- 
 gret, nor return to without delight, has somewhat abated my 
 passion for politics, and that warmth I once felt about public 
 questions. But it has not abated the warmth of my private 
 friendships ; it has not abated my regard for Fitzpatrick, my 
 anxiety for you, 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.” 
 
270 
 
 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 
 
 With respect to the Bill for the better government of !^ndia^ 
 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 superfluous to dwell upon either their merits or 
 defects.* 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, 
 and in making the Crown the virtual depositary of Indian patron- 
 age,f instead of 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 re- 
 markable 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 con- 
 trol. When we consider the stormy course of Eastern politics 
 before that period — the inquiries, the exposures, 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 Control over the waters, 
 
 * Three of the 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 Ja- 
 cob, but the hand of Esau.’’ 
 
 f “Mr. Pitt’s Bill continues the form of the Company’s government, and professes to 
 leave the patronage under certain conditions, and the commerce without condition, in the 
 hands of the Company ; but places all matters relating to the civil and military govern- 
 ment and revenues in the hands of six Commissioners, to be nominated and appointed by 
 His Majesty, under the title of ‘Commissioners of the Affairs of India,’ which Board of 
 Commissioners is invested with the ‘ superintendence and control over all the British ter- 
 ritorial possessions in the East Indies, and over the affairs of the United Company of Mer- 
 chants trading thereto.’ ” — Comparative Statement of the Two Bills, 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 Control have, under 
 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 under Mr. Fox’s Bill.” 
 
illGHl’ fiON. BICHARD BRI^TSLEY SHEHtDAN. 2?1 
 
 “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 too 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 with 
 Mr. Rolle, the member for Devonshire, Mr. Sheridan took the 
 opportunity of disavowing any share in the political satires then 
 circulating, under the titles of “ The Rolliad ” and the “ Proba- 
 tionary Odes.” “ He was aware,” he said, “that the Honorable 
 Gentlemen had suspected that he was either the author of those 
 compositions, or some way or other concerned in them ; but he 
 assured them, upon his honor, he was not — nor had he ever seen 
 a line of them till 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 immortalized 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 satirical warfare, (whose plan of attack was all 
 arranged at a club held at Becket’s,) was the lead which he took 
 in a sort of conspiracy, formed on the ministerial benches, tc 
 interrupt, by coughing, hawking, and other unseemly noises, the 
 speeches of Mr. Burke. The chief writers of these lively pro- 
 ductions were Tick ell, General Fitzpatrick,* Lord John j-Towns 
 
 ♦ To General Fitzpatrick some of the happiest pleasantries are to be attributed ; amonp 
 others, the verses on Brooke Watson, those on the Marquis of Graham, and “The Liars.” 
 
 f Lord John Townshend, the only survivor, at pre.sent, of this confederacy of w.ts, was 
 the author, in conjunction with Tickell, of the admirable Satire, entitled “ Jekyll,” — 
 Tickell having contributed only the lines pn.rcHlied from Pope. To the exquisite humor of 
 Lord John we owe also the Probationary Ode for Major Seott, and the playful parody on 
 “ Dontc grains eram tibi.” 
 
272 
 
 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THF: 
 
 hend, Richardson, George Ellis, and Dr. Lawrence.* There 
 were also a few minor contributions from the pens of Bate Dud- 
 ley, Mr. O’Beirne (afterwards Bishop of Meath), and Sheridan’s 
 friend. Read. In two of the writers, Mr. Ellis and Dr. Law- 
 rence, we have a proof of the changeful nature of those atoms, 
 whose concourse for the time constitutes Party, and of the vola- 
 tilit} with which, like the motes in the sunbeam, described by 
 Lucretius, they can 
 
 Commutare viam, retroque repulsa reverti 
 Nunc hucynunc illuc^ in cunctas denique partes.^^ 
 
 Change their light course, as fickle chance may guide, 
 
 Now here, now there, and shoot from side to side. 
 
 Dr. Lawrence was afterwards a violent supporter of Mr. Pitt, 
 and Mr. Ellisf showed the versatility of his wit, as well as of his 
 politics, by becoming one of the most brilliant contributors to 
 The Antijacobin. 
 
 The Rolliad and The Antijacobin may, on their respective sides 
 of the question, be considered as models of that style of political 
 satire,J whose lightness and vivacity give it the appearance of 
 
 ♦ By Doctor Lawrence the somewhat ponderous irony of the prosaic department 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 tdrior alter 
 
 Non fuit, excepto Laurentis corpore Tumi.” 
 
 f It is related that, on one occasion, when Mr. Ellis was dining with Mr. Pitt, and em- 
 barrassed 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 expense, endeavored to 
 lead the conversation to the subject of this work, by asking him various questions, as to 
 its authors, &c.,— which Mr. Pitt overhearing, from the upper end of the table, leaned 
 kindly towards Ellis and said, 
 
 “ Immo age^ et a prima, die, hospes, oiHgme nobis.” • 
 
 The word “ Jwspes,” applied to the new convert, was happy, and the erroresque tuos,” 
 that follows, was, perhaps, left to be implied. 
 
 X The following just observations upon The Rolliad and Probationary Odes occur m the 
 manuscript Life of Sheridan which I have already cited : — “They are, in most instances, 
 specimens of the powers of men, who, giving themselves up to ease and pleasure, neither 
 improved their minds with great industry, nor exerted them with mucli activity ; and have 
 therefore left no very considerable nor durable memorials ot the happy and vigorous abil- 
 ities with which nature had certainly endowed them. The effusions themselves are full of 
 
ntanf hon. juchakd brinsley sheridan. 
 
 27S 
 
 proceeding rather from the wantonness of wit than of ilhnature, 
 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 license so questionable be either as- 
 sumed 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 
 satire 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. 
 
 Among other important questions, that occupied the attention 
 of Mr. Sheridan at this period, was the measure brought forward 
 under the title of “ Irish Commercial Propositions ” for the pur- 
 pose of regulating and finally adjusting the commercial inter- 
 course between England and Ireland. The line taken by him 
 and Mr. Fox in their opposition to this plan was such as to ac- 
 cord, 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 
 
 fortunate allusions, ludicrous 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 ; but they are mere occasional pro- 
 ductions. They will sleep with the papers of the Craftsman, so vaunted in their own 
 time, but which are never now raked up, except by the curiosity of the historian and the 
 man of literature. 
 
 “ Wit, being generally founded upon the manners and characters of its own day, is 
 crowned in that day, beyond all other exertions of the mind, with splendid and imme- 
 diate success. But there is always something that equalizes. In return, more than any 
 other production, it sulfers suddenly an,d irretrievably from the hand of Time. It receives 
 a character the most opposite to its own. From being the most generally understood and 
 perceived, it becom.es of all writing the most difficult and the most obscure. Satires, 
 whose meaning was open to the multitude, defy the erudition of the scholar, and comedies, 
 of which every line was felt as soon as it was spoken, require the labor of an antiquary 
 to explain them.’ 
 
 VOL. I. 
 
 12 * 
 
274 
 
 MEjklOiRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 
 
 indignation the boon which it offered, as coupled with a condition 
 for the surrender of the legislative independence of their country. 
 
 In correct views of political economy, the advantage through- 
 out this discussion was wholly on the side of the minister ; and, 
 in a speech of Mr. Jenkinson, we find (advanced, indeed, but 
 incidentally, and treated by Mr. Fox as no more than amusing 
 theories,) some of those liberal principles of trade w^hich 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, ac- 
 counted for by the skepticism of the following passage, which 
 occurs in one of his animated speeches on this very question. 
 Mr. Pitt having asserted, in answer to those who feared the 
 competition of Ireland in the market from her low prices of 
 labor, that “great capital would in all cases overbalance cheap- 
 ness of labor,” 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 com- 
 plex and mutable as politics and commerce, a wise man hesitates 
 at giving too implicit a credit to any general maxim of any de- 
 nomination.” 
 
 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 after- 
 wards the victim. The proposed plan being, in itself, (as Mr. 
 Grattan called it,) “ an incipient and creeping Union,” would 
 liave 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. But the 
 pride, so natural and honorable to the Irish — had fate but placed 
 them in a situation to assert it with any permanent effect — re- 
 pelled the idea of being bound even by the commercial regu 
 
RIGHT HOlSr^ RICHARD BRINSLRY SHERIDAN. 275 
 
 lations of England. The wonderful eloquence of Grattan, 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 another 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 be- 
 fore 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 Kesolution, which stipulated for Eng- 
 land a control 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 sophistry to con- 
 tend, 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 of enacting by one decisive vote, that all British 
 laws to the purposes stipulated, should have immediate operation in Ire- 
 land 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 own shackles.’^ 
 
 * * * ♦ * 
 
 All had been delusion, trick, and fallacy : a new scheme of commercial 
 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 es- 
 caped from harsh trammels and severe discipline, is treated like a high- 
 mettled horse, hard to catch ; and the Irish Secretary is to return 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 he is snuf- 
 fling at the food. But this political jockeyship, he was convinced, would 
 not succeed.’* 
 
276 
 
 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 
 
 In defending the policy, as well as generosity of the conces- 
 sions 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 Hon- 
 orable friend ; he disdained the injustice of bargaining with Ireland on 
 such a subject ; nor would Ireland have listened to him if he had attempt- 
 ed it. She had not applied to purchase a Constitution ; and if a tribute or 
 contribution had been demanded in return for wbat w^as then granted, those 
 patriotic spirits who were at that time leading the oppressed 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, anna aptare atque ferro non auro patriam et libertaiem 
 Temper areP 
 
 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 manu- 
 facturer in the British market, the gain of Ireland must be the loss of Eng- 
 land.* 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, wdiich had on so many occasions been employed to dis- 
 guise and perplex this plain simple truth, or still more fallaciously to en- 
 deavor to prove that Great Britain wmuld hnd her balance in the Irish mar- 
 ket, had only tended to show the weakness and inconsistency of the doc- 
 trine they were meant to support. The truth of the argument was with 
 the manufacturers ; and this formed, in Mr. Sheridan’s mind, a ground ol 
 one of the most vehement objections he had to the present plan.” 
 
 It was upon the clamor, raised at this time by the English 
 manufacturers, at the prospect of the privileges about to be 
 granted to the trade of Ireland, that Tickell, whose wit was al- 
 ways on the watch for such opportunities, wrote the following 
 fragment, found among the papers of Mr. Sheridan ; — 
 
 A Vision. 
 
 “ After supping on a few' Colchester oysters and a small Welsh rabbit, I 
 
 * Mr. Fox also said, “ Ireland cannot make a single acquisition but to the proportionate 
 JOSS of England 
 
RIGHT HON. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 277 
 
 went to bed last Tn 3sday night at a quarter before eleven o’clock. I slept 
 quietly for near two hours, at the expiration of w’hich period, my slumber 
 was indeed greatly disturbed by the oddest train of images I ever experi- 
 enced. I thought that every individual article of my usual dress and fur- 
 niture was suddenly gifted with the powers of speech, and all at once 
 united to assail me with clamorous reproaches, for my unpardonable ne- 
 glect of their common interests, in the great question of surrendering 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 them to communicate 
 their ideas individually. It was with some difficulty they consented to even 
 this proposal, which they considered as a device to extinguish their gene- 
 ral ardor, and to break the force of their united efforts ; nor would they 
 by 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 immediately over my ears, and disen- 
 gaging 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 Pillovz-cases, being all of Irish extraction, stuck close 
 to me, however, — which was uncommonly fortunate, for, not only my Cur- 
 tains had drawn off to 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 forwardness 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 ^cordingly. 
 
 “ At length, to my inconceivable astonishment, my Night-cap, attended 
 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 
 feeling 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 
 
278 
 
 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 
 
 year 1785, by Mr. Isaac Corry, who was at that time a member 
 of the Irish Opposition, and combated the Commercial Proposi- 
 tions as vigorously as he afterwards, when Chancellor of the Ex- 
 chequer, defended their “ consummate flower,” the Union. A 
 few extracts from these letters will give some idea of the inter- 
 est attached to this question by the popular party in both coun- 
 tries. 
 
 The following, dated August 5, 1785, was written during^ the 
 adjournment of ten days, that preceded Mr. Orde’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 Ireland^ w'hich must also be 
 published in the manner fitting it. The addresses were sent 
 round to all the towns in the kingdom, in order to give currency 
 to the humbug. Being upon the spot, I have my troops in per.r 
 feet order, and am ready at a moment’s warning for any manoeu- 
 vre which may, when we meet in Dublin previous to the next 
 sitting, be thought necessary to follow the petitions for post- 
 poning. 
 
 “We hear astonishing accounts of your greatness in particu- 
 lar. Paddy will, I suppose, some beau jour be voting you ano- 
 ther 50,000,* if you go on as you have done. 
 
 “I send to-day down to my friend, O’Neil, who waits for a 
 signal only, and we shall go up together. Brownlow is just be- 
 side me, and I shall ride over this morning to get him up to con 
 
 sultation in town we must 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 sta- 
 bility for the Government. 
 
 “ Charlemont and I were of opinion that we should not make 
 the volunteers speak upon the present business ; so I left it out 
 
 ♦ Alluding to the recent vote of that sum to Mr. Grattan. 
 
RIGHT HOlSr. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 279 
 
 in the Eesolutions at our late review. They are as tractable as 
 we could desire, and we can manage them completely. We in- 
 culcate all moderation — were we to slacken in that, they would 
 instantly step forward.” 
 
 The date of the following letter is August 10th — two days be- 
 fore 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 15th of January, and have also 
 some resolutions ready 'pro re nata^ 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 ma- 
 jority of nineteen, which is thus announced to Mr. Sheridan by 
 his correspondent : — 
 
 “ I congratulate with you on 108 minority — against 127. The 
 business never can go on. Tliey were astonished, and looked 
 the sorriest devils you can imagine. Orde’s exhibition was piti- 
 ful indeed — the support of his party weak and open to attack — 
 the debate on their part really poor. On ours, Conolly, O’Neill 
 
280 
 
 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 
 
 and the other country gentlemen, strong and of great weight — > 
 Grattan able and eloquent m an uncommon degree — -every 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. The ground fought upon was the Fourth Resolution, 
 and the principle of that in the others. The commercial detail 
 did not belong accurately to the debate, though some went over 
 it in a cursory way. Grattan, two hours and a half — FJood 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 impu- 
 tations, or insinuations at least, not very favorable. You were 
 not left undefended. Forbes exerted his warm attachment to 
 you with great effect — Burgh, the flag-ship of the Leinster squad- 
 ron, 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 honor ; and I had the satisfaction of a slight 
 skirmish, which called up the Attorney General, &c. . . .” 
 
 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 justification to the country, and no more of it this ses- 
 sion. We have the effects of a complete victory.” 
 
 Another question of much less importance, but more calcu- 
 lated 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 au- 
 thor in politics. In speaking of the Report of a Board of Gene- 
 ral 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 
 
RIGHT HON. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 281 
 
 fires off his wit, as it were, en ricochet^ 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 as logic. 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 his assertions. His very queries were in casements. No impres- 
 sion, therefore, w’as to be made on this fortress of sophistry by desultory 
 observations ; and it was necessary to sit down before it, and assail it by 
 regular approaches. It was fortunate, however, to observe, that notwith- 
 standing all the skill employed by the noble and literary engineer, his 
 mode of defence on paper was open to the same objection which 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 sub- 
 duing 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 Natfonal 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 experiments of the other. Mr. Pitt himself 
 seemed to dread the suspicion 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 interest 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 cclumn, 
 upon which he was proud to flatter himself his name might be 
 inscribed.” Tycho Brahe would have said the same of his As- 
 tronomy, and Des Cartes 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 delu- 
 sion, indeed, of which this Fund was made the instrument, dur 
 ing the war with France, is now pretty generally acknowledged; 
 
282 
 
 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 
 
 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, profit- 
 ing by a miracle in which he did not himself believe, and, in 
 addition to the responsibility of the uses to which he applied 
 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 com- 
 mitted 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 Kedemption after- 
 wards 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 Honorable gentleman might say, with the person in 
 the comedy, ‘ If you won't lend me the money, how can I pa.y 
 you?'^^ 
 
RIGHT HON. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 288 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 CHARGES AGAINST MR. HASTINGS. — COM^iIERCIAL TREATY 
 WITH FRANCE. — DEBTS OF THE PRINCE OF WALES. 
 
 The calm security into which Mr. Pitt’s administration had 
 settled, after the victory which the Tory alliance of King and 
 people had gained for him, left hut 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 Opposition might soon have been reduced, like 
 Philoctetes wasting his arrows upon geese at Lemnos,^ to ex- 
 pend the armory of their wit upon the Grahams and Rolles 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 individual, and thus combining 
 the extent and grandeur of a national question, 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 op- 
 portunities, of which, if Fortune but rarely offers them to genius, 
 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 Com- 
 pany of Merchants in Leadenhall Street — furnishes matter per- 
 haps 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 
 
 * “ Pirmigero, non armigeroin corporc tela exei'ceantur.” — Accius^ ap. Ciceron. lib. vii 
 
284 
 
 MEMOIRS OF^THE LIFE OF THE 
 
 with the servants of traders for subsistence — the dethronement 
 of Princes converted into a commercial transaction, and a ledger- 
 account kept of the profits of Eevofutions — the sanctity of Ze- 
 nanas violated by search-warrants, and the chicaneries of Eng- 
 lish 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 pompous il- 
 lusions and mean realities, are mingled up so sadly and fantasti- 
 cally together, were of a nature, particularly when recent, to 
 lay hold of the imagination as well as the feelings, and to fur- 
 nish eloquence with those strong lights and shadows, of which 
 her most animated pictures are composed. 
 
 It is not wonderful, therefore, that the warm fancy of Mr. 
 Burke 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 imaginaticjn.” His imagination, indeed, — 
 as will naturally 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, accord- 
 ingly, the sufferings of India and the horrors of revolutionary 
 France were the two subjects upon which it has most unrestrain- 
 edly 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 power- 
 ful intellect, which “ stamped an image of itself” on every sub- 
 ject that it embraced. Though the reign of Clive had been suffi- 
 ciently fertile in enormities, and the treachery practised towards 
 Omichimd seemed hardly to admit of any parallel, yet the lof- 
 tier 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 delied his accusei’s, 
 — the whole studies and energies of' Mr. Burke’s mind were 
 directed. 
 
HIGHT HON, RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 285 
 
 It has already been remarked that to the impetuous zeal, with 
 wdiich Burke at this period rushed into Indian politics, and to 
 that ascendancy over his party by which he so often compelled 
 them to “ 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, impatient of contradiction, and with a sort 
 of feudal turn of mind, which exacted the unconditional service 
 of his followers, it required, even at that time, but little pene- 
 tration 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 delinquen- 
 cy had filled him, at length burst forth (like that mighty cloud, 
 described by himself as “ pouring its whole contents over the 
 plains of the Carnatic”) in his wmnderful speech on the Nabob 
 of Ar cot’s debts’^ — a speech, whose only rivals perhaps in all 
 the records of oratory, are to be found among three or four 
 others of his own, which, 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 
 threatened, 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 the minis- 
 try (accorded, as a matter of course, to most State delinquents) 
 
 * Isocrates, in his Encomium upon Helen, dwells much on the advantage to an oraltn of 
 speaking upon subjects Irom which but little eloquence is expected — ‘Tr'S^I 'TCOV (^apXwv 
 xai TOtq'Slvwv. Tiiere is little doubt, indeed, that surprise must have considerable share 
 in the pleasure, which we derive from eloquence on such unpromising topics as have in 
 spired 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. 
 
286 
 
 MEMOIRS OP THE LIFE OP THE 
 
 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 Gover- 
 nor-General under his protection. Mr. Dundas, too, had exhi- 
 bited 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 
 color 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 prosecution w^ere founded, 
 he now, throughout the whole of the opening scenes of the Im- 
 peachment, did not scruple to stand forth as the warm eulogist 
 of Mr. Hastings, and to endeavor 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 hand, 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 the friends of Mr. Hastings, showed how wholly 
 unexpected, as v/ell as mortifying, was the desertion. 
 
 As but little credit w^as allowed to conviction in this change, 
 it being difficult to believe that a Minister should come to the 
 discussion of such a question, so lightly ballasted with opinions 
 of his 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 
 
 * In introducing the Resolutions he said, that ‘‘ he was urged to lake this step by an ac- 
 count, which had lately arrived from India, of an act of the most flagrant violence and 
 oppression and of the grossest breach of faitli, committed by Mr. Hi^tings against Cheyl 
 Sing, the Raja of Benares.” 
 
EIGHT HON. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 287 
 
 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 favorite appointed President of the Board 
 of Control, was what decided Mr. Pitt to extinguish, by co- 
 operating with the Opposition, every chance of a rivalry, which 
 might prove troublesome, if not dangerous, to his power. 
 There is no doubt that the arraigned ruler of India was honored 
 at this period with the distinguished 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 those who were 
 his accusers, which would have been sufficient to recommend any 
 person or measure to which they were opposed. 
 
 But whether Mr. Pitt, in the part which he now took, was 
 actuated merely by personal motives, or (as his eulogists re- 
 present) by a strong sense of impartiality and justice, he must 
 at all events have considered the whole proceeding, at this mo- 
 ment, as a most seasonable diversion of the attacks of the 
 Opposition, from his own person and government to an object so 
 little 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 stabi- 
 lity 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 prosecution 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 imipulse given by the majorities which he commanded, 
 the projected impeachment was but tardy and feeble in its move- 
 ments, 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 
 
2cS8 Memoiks of the lIfe of the 
 
 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 Ariosto, before which every 
 one falls 
 
 “ Con gli occhi ahhacinatiy e senza menier 
 
 The feelings, therefore, of the public were, at the outset of the 
 prosecution, rather for than against the supposed delinquent. Nor 
 was this tendency counteracted by any very partial leaning to- 
 wards his accusers. Mr. Fox h^ hardly yet recovered his 
 defeat on the India Bill, 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 demeanor against which men 
 naturally rebelled ; and the impetuosity and passion with which 
 he flung himself into every favorite subject, showed a want of 
 self-government but little calculated 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 difliculty conceive — that marred 
 the impression of his most sublime and glowing displays. 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 
 attract. 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 wel- 
 comed as a signal and excuse for not listening at all. To such a 
 
 * “ Whoever, upon comparison is deemed by a common audience the greatest orator 
 ought most certainly to be pronounced such by men of science and erudition.” — Hume^ 
 Essay 13. 
 
RIGHT HON. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 289 
 
 length was this indifference 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 w^as necessary they should take the 
 trouble of answering it, but decided in the negative. Yet doubt- 
 less, 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 arose that the pro- 
 secution of Mr. Hastings, even after the accession of the Minister, 
 excited but a slight and wav ring interest ; and, without some 
 extraordinary appeal to the sympathies of the House and the 
 country — some startling touch to the chord of public feeling — 
 it was questionable whether the inquiry would not end as abor- 
 tively 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 Speech, whose effect upon its hearers has no parallel 
 in the annals of ancient or modern eloquence.f When we re- 
 
 * Namely, the fruitless prosecution of Lord Clive by General Burgoyne, the trifling ver- 
 dict upon the persons who had imprisoned Lord Pigot, and the Bill of Pains and Penalties 
 against Sir Thomas Rumbold, finally withdrawn. 
 
 f Mr. Burke declared it to be “ the most astonishing effort of eloquence, argument, and 
 wil 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 vapor before the sun — and Mr. Pitt acknowledged “ that it surpassed all 
 the eloquence of ancient and modern times, and possessed every thing that genius or arl 
 could furnish, to agitate and control the human mind.” 
 
 There were several other tributes, of a less distinguished kind, of which I find the fol- 
 lowing account in the Annual Register : — 
 
 “Sir William Dolben immediately moved an adjournment of the debate, confessing, that, 
 in the state of mind in which Mr. Sheridan’s speech had left him, it was impossible fo*" 
 h)n to give a determinate opinion. Mr. Stanhope seconded the motion. Wlien 1 e had en- 
 ered the House, he was not ashamed to acknowledge, that his opinion inclined to the side 
 
 VOL. I. 13 
 
290 
 
 MEMOIRS OP THE LlPE OF THE 
 
 collect the men by whom the House of Commons was at that 
 day adorned, and the conflict 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 it) “ under the 
 wand of the enchanter,” and only vying with each other in their 
 description of the fascination by which they were bound ; — w'hen 
 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 be absurd to dignify with that appellation the meagre and 
 lifeless sketch, the 
 
 Tenuem sine virihus umhram 
 
 In faciem jEnecSy 
 
 which is given in the Annual Registers and Parliamentary De- 
 bates. Its fame, therefore, remains like an empty shrine — a 
 cenotaph still crowned and honored, though the inmate is want^ 
 ing. 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 indo- 
 lence 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 
 
 rf Mr. Hastings. But such had been the wonderful efficacy of ilr. Sheridan’s convincing 
 detail of facts, and irresistible eloquence, that he could not but say that his sentiments 
 Were materially changed. Nothing, indeed, but information almo.sl equal to a miracle, 
 determine him not to vote for the Charge ; but he had just feil the influence of such 
 a miracle, and he could not but ardently desire tc avoid an immediate decision. Mr. Ma* 
 thew Montague confessed, that he had felt a similar revolution of sentiment. 
 
EIGHT HON. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 291 
 
 praise. Nor, in doing thus, did he act perhaps unwisely for his 
 fame. We may now indulge in dreams of the eloquence that 
 could produce such effects,* as we do of the music of the an- 
 cients 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 profana- 
 tion, 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 to give unqualified applause to his crimes, but found 
 an excuse for their atrocity in the greatness of his mind, he thus 
 proceeds : — 
 
 To estimate the solidity of such a defence, it would be sufficient merely 
 to consider in what consisted this prepossing 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 we justly affix the 
 splendid title and honors of real greatness. There was indeed another 
 species of greatness, which displayed itself in boldly conceiving a bad mea- 
 
 ♦ The following anecdote is given as a proof of the irresistible power of this speech m 
 a note upon Mr. Bisset’s History of the Reign of George III. : — 
 
 “The late Mr. Logan, well known for 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 hour he 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 un- 
 justifiably — the fourth, ‘Mr. Hastings is a most atrocious criminal — and, at last, ‘Of 
 all monsters of iniquity the most enormous is Warren Hastings I’ ” 
 
292 
 
 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 
 
 sure, and undauntedly pursuing it to its accomplishment. But had Mi, 
 Hastings the merit of exhibiting either of these descriptions of greatness, 
 — even of the latter ? He saw nothing great — nothing magnanimous — no- 
 thing open — nothing direct in his measures, or in his mind. On the con- 
 trary, he had too often pursued the worst objects by the worst means. His 
 course was an eternal deviation from rectitude. He either tyrannized or de- 
 ceived ; 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 shuffling, ambiguous, dark, 
 insidious, and little : nothing simple, nothing unmixed : all affected plain- 
 ness, and actual dissimulation ; a heterogeneous mass of contradictory qua- 
 lities ; with nothing great but his crimes ; and even those conti^asted by 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 un- 
 accountable but inherent quality, to be appropriated, though in inferior de- 
 grees, to everything that concerned his employers. He remembered to 
 have heard an honorable 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 succes- 
 sive operations ; connecting wii^ their civil policy, and even with their 
 boldest achievements, the meanness of a pedlar and the profligacy of pi- 
 rates. Alike in the political .and the military line could be observed auc- 
 tioneering ambassadors 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 
 an 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 
 ccunting-housey 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 Min- 
 ister, turned the balance against Hastings, and decided the Im- 
 peachment. 
 
 Congratulations on his success poured in upon Mr. Sheridan, 
 
 ♦ The spirit of this observation has been well condensed in the compound name given 
 by the Abbe de Pradt to Napoleon — “ Jupiter Scapin.” 
 
EIGHT HON. KICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 293 
 
 as may be supposed, from all quarters ; and the letters that he 
 received from his own family on the occasion were preserved by 
 him carefully and fondly through life. The following extract 
 from one written by Charles Sheridan is highly honorable to both 
 brothers : — 
 
 Dublin CasiUj \Zth February ^ lYSY. 
 
 “My Dear Dick, 
 
 “ 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 as- 
 sured, therefore, that the sense of national pride, which I in com- 
 mon with all your countrymen on this side of the water must 
 feel on this splendid occasion, acquires no small increase of per- 
 sonal satisfaction, when I reflect to whom Ireland is indebted, 
 for a display of ability so unequalled, that the honor derived 
 from it seems too extensive to be concentred in an individual, 
 but ought to give, and I am persuaded will give, a new 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 so- 
 lemnly declare 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, w^ho never 
 saw you. I need not, after what I have stated, assure you, that 
 it is with the most heartfelt satisfaction that I offer you my 
 warmest congratulations. * * * 
 
 The following is from his eldest sister, Mrs. Joseph Le- 
 fanu : — 
 
 “ My Dear Brother, 16^^ February^ 1787. 
 
 “ The day before yesterday I received the account of your 
 glorious speech. Mr. Crauford was so good as to write a more 
 pai'ticular and satisfactory one to Mr. Lefanu than we could have 
 received from the papers. I have watched the first interval of 
 ease from a cruel arid almost incessant headache to give vent to 
 
' 294 : MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 
 
 my feelings, and tell you howmuch 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 control their way- 
 ward wills, be equally favorable 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 ‘ pass- 
 ing 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 impor- 
 tant matters that occupy your mind, your earliest friend is some- 
 times recollected by you. 
 
 “ I know you are much above the little vanity that seeks its 
 gratification in the praises of the million, but you must be pleased 
 with the applause of the discerning, — with the tribute 1 may say 
 >f 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, gratified with the general at- 
 tention you have excited here : he seems truly pleased that men 
 should say, ‘ There goes the father of Gaul.’ If your fame has 
 shed a ray of brightness over all so distinguished as to be con- 
 nected with you, I 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 receiv- 
 
BIGHT HON. BICHABD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 295 
 
 ing bribes and presents. The orator was here again lucky in 
 having a branch of the case allotted to him, which, though bv 
 no means so susceptible of the ornaments of eloquence as the 
 former, had the advantage of being equally borne out by testi- 
 mony, 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 extorted shall be related when I come to speak of the great 
 Speech in Westminster Hall. The other strong cases of corrup- 
 tion, 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, Middleton. 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 inquiry 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 igno 
 ranee 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 meta- 
 phor into allegory, and, instead of giving in a single sentence the 
 essence of many flowers, spreads the dowers themselves, in 
 crude heaps, over a whole paragraph : — 
 
 In conclusion (he observed), that, although within this rank, but infi- 
 nitely too fruitful wilderness of iniquities — within this dismal and unhal- 
 lowed labyrinth — it was most natural to cast an eye of indignation and con- 
 cern over the wide and towering forest of enormities —all rising in the 
 dusky magnificence of guilt ; and to fix the dreadfully excited attention 
 upon the huge trunks of revenge, rapine, tyranny, and oppression ; yet it 
 became not less necessary to trace out the poisonous weeds, the baleful 
 brushwood, and all tlie little, creeping, deadly plants, which were, in quan 
 
296 
 
 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 
 
 tity and extent, if possible, more noxious. The whole range of this far- 
 spreading calamity was sown in the hot-bed of corruption ^ and had risen, 
 by rapid and mature growth, into every species of illegal and 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 circum- 
 stances as different 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 diver- 
 gence that had taken place in their pursuits ; for, while Sheridan 
 had been converted into a senator and statesman, the lively Hal- 
 hed had become an East Indian Judge, and a learned commen- 
 tator 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 friend. 
 The following are the public circumstances that led to their inter- 
 view. 
 
 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 calum- 
 ny, 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.” 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 inter- 
 ference, however, he said, was solely founded upon an opinion 
 which he had himself formed with respect to the India Bill, — 
 namely, that it would be wiser, on grounds of expediency, not to. 
 make it retrospective in any of its clauses. In consequence of 
 tWs opiniouj he had. certainly commiasiQued a friend to inquire 
 
EIGHT HON. EICHAED BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 297 
 
 of Major Scott, whether, if Mr. Hastings were recalled, he would 
 come home ; — but “ that there had been the most distant idea 
 of bartering with Mr. Hastings for his support of the Indian Bill, 
 he utterly denied.” In conclusion, he referred, for the truth of 
 what he had now stated, to Major Scott, who instantly rising, 
 acknowledged that, from inquiries which he had since made of 
 the gentleman deputed to him by Mr. Sheridan on the occasion, 
 he was ready to bear testimony to the fairness of the statement 
 just submitted to the House, and to admit his own mistake in 
 the interpretation 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 
 other persons 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 
 favorable kind ; 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 describing his aggression, “ I poured 
 out upon him hot, scalding abuse — ’twas lava. Sir 1” 
 
 Among the other questions that occupied the attention of Mr. 
 Sheridan during this session, the most important were the Com- 
 mercial Treaty with France, and the Debts of the Prince of 
 Wales. 
 
 The same erroneous views by which the opposition to the Irish 
 Comniercial 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 honor upon 
 the memory of Mr. Pitt, as one of the first efforts of a sound 
 and liberal policy to break through that system of restriction 
 and interference, which had so long embarrassed the flow of in- 
 ternational 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 con- 
 
 voL. I. i 
 
298 
 
 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 
 
 descend 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 Dud- 
 ley 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 the rulers of 
 Ireland at the present day. Thus frequently does Truth, before 
 the drowsy world is prepared for her, like 
 
 “ The nice Morn on the Indian steep, 
 
 _ From her cabin’d loophole peep.’^ 
 
 Though Mr. Sheridan spoke frequently in the course of the 
 discussions, he does not appear to have, at any time, encountered 
 the main body of the question, but to have confined himself 
 chiefly to a consideration of the eftects which the treaty vrould 
 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 Represen- 
 tative 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, with which the chivalry of Genius sometimes adorns the 
 cause of Error. In founding, as he did, his chief alignment 
 against commercial intercourse upon the “ natural enmity ” be- 
 tween the two countries, he might have referred, it is true, to 
 high Whig authority : — “ The late Lord Oxford told me,” says 
 Lord Bolingbroke, “ 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 respect for 
 this sort of vague, traditional hostility, vdiich is often obliged to 
 seek its own justification in the very mischiefs which itself pro- 
 
 f McCulloch’s Lectures on Political Economy 
 
RIGHT HOH. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 299 
 
 duces. If Mr. Fox ever happened to peruse the praises, which 
 his Antigallican sentiments on this occasion procured for him, 
 from the tedious biographer of his rival, Mr. Gifford, he would 
 have suspected, like Phocion, that he must have spoken some- 
 thing 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 com- 
 mercial relations with France, was the danger lest English mer- 
 chants, by investing their capital in foreign speculations, should 
 become so entangled with the mterests of another country as to 
 render them less jealous than they ought to be of the honor of 
 their own, and less ready to rise in its defence, when wronged or 
 insulted. But, assuredly, a want of pugnacity is not the evil to 
 be dreaded among nations — still less between two, whom the 
 orator had just represented 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 trans- 
 fusing and blending their commercial 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 selfish- 
 ness on the side of peace and amity, afford the best guarantee 
 against wanton warfare, that the wdsdom of statesmen or philos- 
 ophers 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 
 descended to the weakness of ridiculing such commercial ar- 
 rangements, as unworthy altogether of the contemplation of the 
 higher order of statesmen. “ The Eight Honorable 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 Bed 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 
 judgment, attempt to depreciate a speech which may be said to 
 
800 
 
 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 
 
 have contained the first luminous statement of the principles of 
 commerce, with the most judicious views of their application to de- 
 tails, that had ever, at that period, been presented to the House. 
 
 The wise and enlightened opinions of Mr. Pitt, both with re- 
 spect 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 encroach- 
 ments upon the property and liberty of the subject, for financial 
 waste and unconstitutional 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 re- 
 pugnance he felt to restrictions and exclusions, affecting either 
 the worldly commerce of man with man, or the spiritual inter- 
 course 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 denounce, as mis- 
 chievous, 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 candor ; and the cordiality, in- 
 deed, with which they came forward this year to praise the spirited 
 part taken by the Minister in the affairs of Holland — even al- 
 lowing that it would be difficult for Whigs not to concur in a 
 measure so national — sufficiently acquits them of any such per- 
 verse spirit of party, as would, for the mere sake of opposition, 
 go wrong because the Minister was right. To the sincerity of 
 one of their objections to the Treaty — namely, that it was a de- 
 sign, on the part of France, to detach England, by the tempta- 
 tion of a mercantile advantage, from her ancient alliance with 
 Holland and her other continental connections — Mr. Burke bore 
 testimony, as far as himself was concerned, by repeating the 
 same opinions, after an interval of ten years, in his testamentary 
 work, the “ Letters on a Regicide Peace.” 
 
 The other important question which I have mentioned as en- 
 gaging, during the session of 1787, the attention of Mr. Sheri- 
 
RIGHT HON. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 801 
 
 dan, was the application to Parliament for the payment of the 
 Prince of Wales’s debts. The embarrassments of the Heir 
 Apparent were but a 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 labored, would have afforded a chance 
 of detaching him from his new political 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 indiffer- 
 ence both of the monarch and his minister threw the Prince en- 
 tirely 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 situation in which the Prince now found 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 Sovereign of England in a state of depen- 
 dence, as creditor, on a Prince of France. That the negotiations 
 in this extraordinary transaction had proceeded farther than is 
 generally supposed, will appear from the following letters of the 
 Duke of Portland to Sheridan : — 
 
 “Dear Sheridait, Sunday noon^ 13 Dec. 
 
 “ Since I saw you I have received a confirmation of the intel- 
 ligence which was the subject of our conversation. The partic- 
 ulars 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 creditors 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 Frenchwomen 
 and a Frenchman (none of whose names I know) in Calonne's 
 
302 
 
 MEMOIHS OF THE LIFE OF THE 
 
 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 no- 
 tice, if I can be of the least use in getting rid of this odious en- 
 gagement, or preventing its being entered into, if it should not 
 be yet completed. 
 
 ‘‘ Yours ever, 
 
 cc 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. I will certainly be in town by two o’clock. 
 
 “ Yours ever, 
 
 « p 5? ‘ 
 
 “ Bulstrode^ Monday y 14. Dec* 
 
 9 A. M. 
 
 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 him- 
 self had adopted, in reducing his establishment and devoting a 
 part of his income to the discharge of his debts, sufficiently pro- 
 claimed the true state of affairs to the public. Still, however, 
 the strange policy was persevered in, of adding the discontent 
 of the Heir- Apparent to the other weapons in the hands of the 
 Opposition ; — and, as might be expected, they 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, 
 
EIGHT HON. RICHARD BRINSLET SHERIDAN. 303 
 
 affirmed that “ it went immediately to affect our Constitution 
 in Church and State.” In these solemn words it was well under- 
 stood, that he alluded 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. Pitzherbert — 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 distin- 
 guished object of His Royal Highness’s affection. 
 
 Even had an alliance of this description taken place, the pro- 
 visions 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, which was confirmed by 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 ex- 
 empted by the operation of the Royal Marriage Act (12 George 
 III.), which rendered null and void any marriage contracted by 
 
 * Horne Tooke, in his insidious pamphlet on the subject, presumed so far on ihis belief 
 as to call Mrs. Fitzherbert “ Her Royal Highness.’’ 
 
804 
 
 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 
 
 any descendant of George II. without the previous consent of 
 the King, or a twelve months’ notice given to the Privy Council. 
 
 That this Act would have nullified the alleged marriage of the 
 Prince of W ales there is, of course, no doubt ; — ^but that it 
 would also have exempted him /rom 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."^ 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 Succes- 
 sion, could not fail to suggest some disquieting apprehensions 
 and speculations, which nothing short, it was thought, of a pub- 
 lic and authentic disavowal of the marriage altogether would 
 be able effectually to allay. 
 
 If in politics Princes are unsafe allies, in connections of a ten- 
 derer -nature they are still more perilous partners ; and a triumph 
 over a Royal 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 history ;f and the disclaimer, on the pre- 
 sent 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 
 
 * Thus, a man, by contracting a second marriage, pending the first marriage, commits 
 a felony ; and the crime, according to its legal description, cc nsisls in marrying, or con- 
 tracting a marriage — though what he does is no more a marriage than that of the Heir- 
 Apparent would be under the circumstances in question. 
 
 The same principle, it appears, runs through the whole Law of F’Uails both in England 
 and Scotland, and a variety of cases might be cited, in which, though the act done is void, 
 yet the doing of it creates a forfeiture. 
 
 f See, in Ellis’s Letters of History, vol. iii. the declarations of Charles H. with respect 
 to his marriage with “ one Mrs. Walters,” signed b} himself and published in the London 
 Gazette. 
 
RIGHT HON. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 305 
 
 when the member for Devonshire alluded to the circumstance, 
 took occasion, on the next discussion of the questi(p, and, as he 
 declared, with the immediate authority of the Prince, to contra- 
 dict 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, fit 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 
 nave 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 be- 
 ginning been a base and malicious falsehood.” 
 
 Though Mr. Rolle, from either obstinacy or real distrust, re- 
 fused, 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 deci- 
 sive, 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 Highness’s 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 authorized declaration was 
 successful in satisfying the public mind, it must naturally have 
 been painful and humiliating to the person whose honor was in- 
 volved in it. The immediate consequence of this feeling was a 
 
306 
 
 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 
 
 breach between that person and Mr. Fox, which, notwithstand 
 ing 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 tend at least to unsettle the impression left upon the pub- 
 lic, and, in some degree, retrieve that loss of station, which a 
 disclaimer, coming 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 party, 
 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 highmindedness, 
 which, in more than one collision witn 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 com 
 pliments, with which the latter, when the motion of Alderman 
 Newenham was withdrawn, endeavored, without in the least de- 
 gree weakening the declaration of Mr. Fox, to restore that equi- 
 librium of temper and self-esteem, which such a sacrifice of gal- 
 lantry 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 in- 
 quiry had been adopted, was a point which did credit to the de- 
 corum, 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 
 
HlGHl’ HOK. KICHAUD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. S01 
 
 might think it a subordinate consideration, that there was another 
 person entitled, in every delicate and honorable 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.” 
 
/ 
 
CONTENTS TO VOL. II 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 Impeacliment of Mr. Hastings 5 
 
 C a ATTER II. 
 
 Deaio of Mr. Sheridan^s Father. — Verses by Mrs. Sheridan on the Dealhoi 
 her Sister, Mrs. Tickell . . ... . . .43 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 Illness of the King.- JLegency. — Private Life of Mr. Sheridan. . 54 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 French Revolution. — Mr. Burke. — His Breach with Mr. Sheridan. — Disso- 
 lution of Parliament. — Mr. Burke and Mr. Fox. — Russian Armament.— 
 
 Royal Scotch Boroughs. . . 96 
 
 % 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 Death of Mrs. Sheridan. . . , . 124 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 Drury-Lane Th3atre. — Society of •* The Friends of tlie People.’’ — Madame 
 de Genlis. — War with France. — Whig Seceders. — Speeches in Parlia- 
 ment. — Death of Tickell. 14.3 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 Speech in Answer to Lord Mornington.— Coalition of the Whig Seceders 
 v/ith Mr. Pitt. — Mr. Canning. — Evidence on the Trial of Horne Tooke. — 
 The ^‘Glorious First of June.” — Marriage of Mr. Sheridan. — Pamphlet 
 of Mr. Reeyes. — Debts of the Prince of Wales. — Shakspeare Manuscripts. 
 
 Trial of Stone.— Mutiny at the Nore. — Secession of Mr. Fox from 
 
 Parliament 177 
 
 ( 3 ) 
 
rv 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER VIIL 
 
 Play of “ Tho Stranger. ’’--Spoechos in Parliament. — Pizarro. — Ministry 
 Oi Mr. Addington. — French Institute. —Negotiations with Mr. Kem- 
 ble 203 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 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 Westminster, — 
 Dismission of the Ministry. — Theatrical Negotiation. — Spanish Question. 
 — ^Letter to the Prince. . . 226 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 Destruction of the Theatre of Drury-Lane by Fire. — Mr. Whitbread. - 
 Plan for a Third Theatre. — Illness of the King. — Regency. — Lord Grey 
 and Lord Grenville. — Conduct of Mr. Sheridan. — His Vindication ot 
 nimself. 259 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 Affairs of the new Theatre. — Mr. Whitbread. — Negotiations with Lord 
 Grey and Lord Grenville. — Conduct of Mr. Sheridan relative to the 
 Household. — His Last Words in Parliament. — Failure at Stafford. — Cor* 
 respondence with Mr. Whitbread. — Lord Byron. — Distresses of Sheri- 
 dan. — Illness. — Death and Funeral, — General Remark/^ . 285 
 
MEMOIRS 
 
 OF THE 
 
 LIFE OF THE RT. HON. 
 
 RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 IMPEACHMENT OF MR. HASTINGS. 
 
 The motion of Mr. Burke on the lOtli 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 wonderful 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, 
 was, it must be acknowledged, no ordinary trial to even the most 
 fertile genius ; and Mr. Eox, it is said, hopeless of any second flight 
 over rising to the grand elevation of the first, advised that the for- 
 mer Speech should be, with very little change, repeated. But such 
 a plan, however welcome it might be to the indolence of his friend, 
 would nave looked too like an acknowledgment of exhaustion on 
 the f object to be submitted to by one so j ustly 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 dajs, diffused its erichant- 
 
6 
 
 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 
 
 zuent among an assembly of the most illustrious persons of the 
 l?^nd, and of which Mr. Burke pronounced at its conclusion, that 
 of all the various species of oratory, of every kind of eloquence 
 had been heard, either in ancient or modern times ; whatever 
 the acuteness of the bar, the dignity of the senate, or the morality 
 of the pulpit could furnish, had not been equal to what that House 
 had that day heard in Westminster Hall. No holy religionist, 
 no man of any description as a literary character, could have come 
 up, in the one instance, to the pure sentiments of morality, or in 
 the other, to the variety of knowledge, force of imagination, pro- 
 priety and vivacity of allusion, beauty and elegance of diction, and 
 strength of expression, to which they had that day listened. From 
 poetry up to eloquence there was not a species of composition of 
 which a complete and perfect specimen might not have been cull- 
 ed, from one part or the other of the 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 master-piece of eloquence 
 on the same subject has been preserved to us in a Report, from 
 the short-hand notes of Mr. Gurney, which w^as for some time in 
 the possession of the late Duke of Norfolk, but was afterwards 
 restored to 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 transaction, on which the charge 
 brought forward in the Speech w^as 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 Honorable body, none seems to have beer, 
 treated with more capricious cruelty than Cheyte Sing, the Rajah 
 of Benares. In defiance of a solemn treaty, entered into between 
 him and :he government of Mr. Hastings, by which it was sti- 
 pulated that, besides his fixed tribute, no further demands, of any 
 kind, should be made upon him, new exactions were every year 
 enforced ; —while the hunable remonstrances of the Rajah against 
 
RIGHT HON. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 
 
 7 
 
 such gross injustice were not only treated with slight, but pun- 
 ished by arbitrary and enormous fines. Even the proffer of a 
 bribe succeeded only in being accepted^ — the exactions which it 
 was intended to avert being continued 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- 
 Street first on the list, and those of justice and humanity lori[fo 
 mtcrvallo after, — finding the treasury of the Company in a very 
 exhausted state, resolved to sacrifice this unlucky Rajah to their 
 replenishment ; and having as a preliminary step, imposed upon 
 him a mulct of £500,000, 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 rebellion, of which Mr. 
 Hastings himself was near being the victim. The usual triumph, 
 however, of might over right ensued ; the Rajah’s castle was 
 plundered of all its treasures, and his mother, who had "aken 
 refuge in the fort, and only surrendered it on the express stipu- 
 lation that she and the other princesses should pass out safe from 
 the dishonor of search, waSj in violation of this condition, and at 
 the base suggestion of Mr. Hastings himself, f rudely examined 
 and despoiled of all her effects. The Governor-General, how 
 ever, in this one instance, ‘ncurred the full odium of iniquity 
 without reaping any of its reward. The treasures found in :he 
 
 * This was the transaction that formed one of the principal grounds of the Seventn 
 Charge brought forward in the House of Commons by Mr. Sheridan. The suspicious cir 
 cumsta;icefi 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 design of future disclosure ; — when concealment becomes 
 difficult and hazardous, then disclosure made .” — History of British India. 
 
 f In his letter to the Commanding Officer at Bidgcgur. The following are the terms a 
 which he conveys the hint : “I apprehend that she will contrive to defraud the captors ct 
 a considciable part of the booty, by being suffered to rettie uhthout examination. But this 
 is ysxir ennsid oration, and not mine. I should be veny sorry that your officers and nol 
 die’ 3 lost any part of the reward to which they are so well entitled ; but I cannot make 
 any objection, as you must be the best judge of the e^fpediency of promised /ndulgeuce 
 to ;.av rianuec,” 
 
8 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF 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 instruc- 
 tor to a share. Disappointed, 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 reigning Nabob of Oude, 
 had been left by the late sovereign in possession of certain 
 government-estates, or jaghires, as well as of all the treasure that 
 was in his hands at the time of his death, and which the oriental- 
 ized imaginations of the English exaggerated to an enormous 
 sum. The present Nabob had evidently looked with an eye of 
 c’mldity on this wealth, and had been guilty of some acts of ex- 
 tortion 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. Gua- 
 rantees and treaties, however, w^ere but cobwebs in the way of 
 Air. Hastings ; and on his failure at Benares, he lost no time in 
 concluding an agreement with the Nabob, by which (in consider- 
 ation 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 color of justice to this proceeding, it was* pre- 
 tended that these Princesses had taken advantage of the late insur- 
 rection at Benare^ to excite a similar spirit of revolt in Oude 
 against the reigning Nabob and the English government. As 
 I^aw is but too often, in such cases, the ready accomplice of 
 lyranny, the services of the Chief Justice, Sir Elijah Impey, 
 were called in to sustain the accusations; and the wretched 
 mockery was exhibited of a J udge travelling about in search of 
 evidence,! for the express purpose of proving a charge, upon 
 
 * “ It was the practice of Mr. Hastings (says Burke, in his fine speech on Mr. Pitt’s In- 
 dia Bill, March 22, 1786 to examine the country, and where rer he ibicKl money to a.1.x 
 gui't. A more dreadful fault could not be alleged against a native than that he was rich.’’ 
 
 I This journey of the Chief Justice ip search of evidence is thps happily dcscrjUf^I by 
 
KIGHT HON. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 
 
 wnich 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 sum- 
 mary task now imposed upon him ; and it was not till after re- 
 peated and peremptory remonstrances from Mr. Hastings, that 
 he could be induced to put himself at the head of a body of 
 English troops, and take possession, by unresisted force, of the 
 town and palace of these Princesses. As the 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 deli- 
 cacy. Two aged eunuchs of high rank and distinction, the con- 
 fidential 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, accord- 
 ing 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 government, 
 
 Sheridan in the Speech : — “ When, on the 28th of November, he was busied at Lucknow on 
 that honorable business, and when, three days after, he was found at Chunar, at the dis- 
 tance 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 tne 
 gravity of his employ, that an observer would be tempted to quote again from the same 
 scene, ‘Ha ! Old Truepenny, canst thou mole so fast i’ the ground?’ Here, however, the 
 comparison ceased ; for, when Sir Elijah made his visit to Lucknow ‘to whet the almost 
 blunted purpose’ of the Nabob, his language was wholly diffi rent from that of the poet, 
 — for it would have been totally against his purpose to have said, 
 
 ‘ Taint not thy mind, nor let thy soul contrive 
 Against thy mother auglit.’ ” 
 
 VOL, II, 
 
10 
 
 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF QHE 
 
 ilonestly confesses that the concession of t at article was only a 
 frar'iauient artifice of diplomacy, and never intended to he car- 
 ried 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 ; and it was certainly most fortunate for the display of his 
 peculiar powers, that this should be the Charge confided to his man- 
 agement. For, not only was it the strongest, and susceptible of 
 the highest charge of coloring, but it had also the advantage of 
 grouping together 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 ; but, finding that 
 Sheridan had also fixed his mind upon it, he, without hesitation, 
 resigned it into his hands ; thus proving the sincerity of his zeal 
 in the cause,^ by sacrificing even the vanity of talent to its suc- 
 cess. 
 
 The following letters from him, relative to the Impeachment, 
 will be read with interest. The first is addressed to Mrs. Sheri- 
 dan, and v/as 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 take 
 with you, when you consider the interest which I have and wFich 
 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 
 
 * Of the lengths to which this zeal could sometimes carry his fancy and language, 
 rather, perhaps, tlian his actual feelings, the following anecdote is a remarkable 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, Burke said to him, “I am glad to see you here — I 
 shall be still gladder to see you there — (pointing to the Peers’ seats) I liope you will bj2 
 in at Ute death — I should like to Hood you,” 
 
RIGHT TTON RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 11 
 
 such great and vigorous minds, it takes an eagle flight h) ts^^lf, 
 and we can hardly bring it to rustle along the ground, with us 
 birds of meaner wing, in coveys. I only beg that you wl'i pre- 
 vail on Mr. Sheridan to be with us this day, at half after tiiree, 
 in the Committee. Mr. V/ombell, the Paymaster ol‘ Oude, is 
 to be examined there to^ay. Oude is Mr. Sheridan’s particular 
 province ; and I do most seriously ask that he wmuld favor us with 
 his assistance. 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 
 entreat your interest with Mr. Sheridan and your forgiveness lOr 
 being troublesome to you, and do me the justice to believe me, 
 with the most sincere respect, 
 
 “ Madam, your most obedient 
 
 “ and faithful humble Servant, 
 
 “ Thursday^ 9 o'clock. “ Edm. 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-humor, to keep him- 
 self at a distance from you. 
 
 “ W ell, 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 yourself of it. The owner’s mark is on it, and all 
 our docking and cropping cannot hinder its being knowm 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 much 
 and will do every thing. It is a pity that he is not always toned 
 to the full extent of his talents. 
 
 “ Most truly yoin's, 
 
 “ Monday, “ Edm, Burke. 
 
 “ I feel a little sickish at the approaching day. I have vmd 
 
/ 
 
 12 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 
 
 much— too much, perhaps, — and, in truth, am but poorly pre- 
 pared. Many things, 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 ^he passages that most 
 roused and interested the hearer, are those that seem afterwards 
 the tritest and least animated to the reader,]- 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 speci- 
 mens of its style and spirit. 
 
 In the course of his exordium, after dwelling upon the great 
 importance of the inquiry in which they were engaged, and dis- 
 claiming for himself and his brother-managers any feeling of 
 personal malice against the defendant, or any motive but that of 
 retrieving the honor of the British name in India, and bringing 
 down punishment 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 be- 
 lieve that, because something is necessary to retrieve the British character, 
 we call for an example to be made, without due and solid proof of the guilt 
 of the person v/hom 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 pass- 
 ing 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 sub 
 ject that breathes the air of this just and free land. We know, my Lords, 
 tliat there can be no legal guilt without legal proof, and that the riile 
 vhich 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.’’ 
 
 * For this letter, as well as some other valuable communications, I am indebted to tne 
 kindness of Mr. Burgess, — the Solicitor and friend of Sheridan during the last twenty 
 years of his life 
 
 f The converse assertion is almost equally true. Mr. Fox used to ask of a printed 
 speech, “ Does it read well?-’ and, if answered in tlie affirmative, said, “ Then it was ^ 
 bad speec^.” 
 
HIGHT HON. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. J3 
 
 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 w'hich he took with regard to his owm defence during the 
 trial was not the least remarkable for promptness and audacity. 
 He had, at the commencement of the prosecution, delivered at 
 the bar of the House of Commons, as his own, a written refu- 
 tation of the charges then pending against him in that House, 
 declaring at the same time, that “ if truth could tend to convict 
 him, he w^as content 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 drawm up by Messrs. 
 Shore, Middleton, &c. &c. — that he himself had not even seen it, 
 and therefore ought not to be held accountable for its contents. 
 In adverting to this extraordinary evasion, Mr. Sheridan thus 
 shrewdly and playfully exposes all the persons concerned in it : — 
 
 Major Scott comes 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^onscience. A num- 
 ber of friends meet together, and he, knowing (no doubt) that the accusa- 
 tion of the Commons had been drawn up by a Committee, thought it ne- 
 cessary, as a point of punctilio, to answer it by a Committee also. One fur- 
 nishes 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 manage. Mr. Shore, I hope 
 you will make me a good financier — Mr. Middleton, 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 my- 
 self to be the channel of it.’ His friends hold up their heads, and say, ‘ Vv hat 
 noble magnanimity ! This must be the effect of conscious and real inno- 
 cence.’ 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’ con- 
 sideration.’ He then calls upon his Counsel to save him : — • I fear none of 
 
14 
 
 MEMOIRS OE THE LIFE OF THE 
 
 my accusers’ witnesses — T know some of them well — I know the weakness 
 ot their memory, and the strength of their attachment— I fear no testi- 
 mony but my own — save me from the peril of my own panegyric — preserve 
 me from that, and I shall be safe.’ Then is this plea brought to Your Lord- 
 ships’ 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, w^'e certainly are left in doubt to decide, io which 
 set of his friends Mr. Hastings is least obliged, those who assisted 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 : — 
 
 “ It is too much, I am afraid, the case, that persons, used to European 
 manners, do not take up these sort of considerations at first with the se- 
 riousness that is necessary. For Your Lordships cannot even learn the 
 right nature of those people’s feelings and prejudices from any history of 
 other 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, wbo, 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 w^alls, which, 
 as Mr. Hastings and Sir Elijah Tmpey 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 immured, 
 their habitation and retreat is a sanctuary, not a prison — their jealousy is 
 their own — a jealousy of their owm honor, that leads them to regard liberty 
 as a degradation, and the gaze of even admiring eyes as inexpiable pollu- 
 tion to the purity of their fame and the sanctity of their honor. 
 
 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 Super- 
 stitVm, and to be snatched from thence only by Sacrilege.” 
 
 ♦ This metaphor was rather roughly handled afterwards (1794) by Mr. Law. ope of tlie 
 adverse Counse., who asked, how could the Begum be considered as “a Saint,” or how 
 
HIGHT HOK. RICHARD BKIHSLEY SHEPwlDAN. 
 
 5 
 
 In showing that the Nabob was driven to this robbery of hi.i 
 lelatives 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 througn 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 extinguishable right in the Na- 
 bob. He constantly represents the seizing the treasures as a resumption of 
 a right which he could not part with ; — as if there were literally something 
 in the Koran, that made it criminal in a true Mussulman to keep his en- 
 gagements with his relations, and impious in a son to abstain from plunder- 
 ing his-mother. I do gravely assure your 'Lordships 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 endeavoring to dethrone the Nabob and to extirpate the English, the 
 only plea the Nabob ever makes, is his right under the Mahometan 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 extraordinary rebellion, which was as notorious as the re- 
 bellion of 1745 in London, 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 ^cret ; 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 held 
 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 jf 
 £100,000 is thus animadverted upon: 
 
 Wfire the camels, which formed part of the treasure, to be “placed upon the altar '' 
 Siieridan, in reply, said, “It was the first lime in his life he had ever heard of special 
 'pleading on a metaphor^ or a bill of indictment against a trope. But such was the turn of 
 the learned Counsel’s mind, that, when he attempted^ to be humorous, no jest could df 
 founu, and, when serious, no fact was visible.’^ 
 
16 
 
 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 
 
 “ ^ly Lords, siicli was the distressed situation of the Nabob about a 
 twelvemonth before Mr. Hastings met him at Chunar. It Avas 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 calami- 
 ties had aided the superior vigor 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 desola- 
 tion the little that famine had spared, or rapine overlooked ; — then it was 
 that this miserable bankrupt prince marching through his country, besieged 
 by the clamors 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 \vas it then? was it a 
 bribe ? or was it extortion ? I shall prove it w'as both — it was an act of 
 gross bribery and of rank extortion.’’ 
 
 Again he thus adverts to this present : — 
 
 ‘‘ The first thing he does is, to leave Calcutta, in order to go to the re- 
 lief of the distressed Nabob. The second thing, is to take 100,000^. from 
 that distressed Nabob on account of the distressed Company. And the third 
 thing is to ask of the distressed Company this very same sum on account 
 of the distresses of Mr. Hastings. There never were three distresses that 
 seemed so little reconcilable with one another.” 
 
 Anticipating the plea of state-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 Necessity, 
 is yet a generous despot, — bold is his demeanor, rapid his decisions, and 
 te^idble his grasp. But what he does, my Lords, he dares avow, and avow- 
 ing, scorns any other justification, than the great motives 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-Neces- 
 sity that tries to steal a pitiful justification from whispered accusations and 
 
mom HON. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 
 
 fabricated rumors. No. my Lords, that is no State Necessity ;~tear off the 
 mask, and you see coarse, vulgar avarice, — you see speculation, lurking 
 under the gaudy disguise, and adding the guilt of libelling the public 
 honor to its own prh ate fraud. 
 
 My Lords, I say this, because I am sure the Managers would make 
 every allowance that state-necessity could claim upon any great emergen- 
 cy. If any great man in bea-ring the arms of this country ; — if any Ad- 
 miral, 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 w^ho 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 tc 
 * * * 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, 
 whp 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 ever, 
 — 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 prede- 
 cessors had stripped branch and bough — watching with eager eyes the first 
 budding of a future prosperity, and of the opening harvest which they con- 
 sidered as the prey of their perseverance and rapacity.” 
 
 We have in the close of the following passage, a specimen of 
 that lofty style, in which, as if under the influence of Eastern 
 associations, almost all the Managers of this Trial occasionally 
 indulged :f — 
 
 * The Reporter, at many of these passages, seems to have thrown aside his pen in 
 despair. 
 
 I Much of tliis, however, is to be set down to the gratuitous bombast of the Reporter. 
 Mr. Fox, for instance, is made to say, “Yes, 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 compulsatory ray, that, bursting the se- 
 crecy of guilt, drives the criminal frantic to confession and expiation.” History of 
 Trial. — Even one of the Counsel, Mr. Dalla.«, is represented as having caught tliis Oriental 
 contagion, to such a degeee 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 Certainly is melting the darkness, and — we are ar 
 rived at facts admitted by both parties 1” 
 
i§ 
 
 MEMOtliS OF THE LIFE OF THE 
 
 ‘‘ T do not mean to say that Mr. Middleton had direct instructions froin 
 Mr Hastings. — that he told him to go, and give that fallacious assurance 
 to the Nabob, — that he had that ordiQV under his hand. No — but 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 but 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 
 throne Princes waited, in pale expectation, for their fortune or their doom.’^ 
 
 The following is one of those labored passages, of which the 
 orator himself was perhaps most proud, but in which the effort 
 to be eloquent is too visible, and the effect, accordingly, falls 
 short of the pretension: — 
 
 You see how Truth — empowered by that will which gives a giant’s 
 nerve to an infant’s arm — has burst the monstrous mass of fraud that has 
 endeavored to suppress it. — 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 supplica- 
 tion, whose tone is conviction, — it calls upon you for redress, it calls upon 
 you for vengeance upon the oppressor, and points its heave .i-directed hand 
 to the detested, but unrepenting author of its wrongs !” 
 
 His description of the desolation brought upon some provinces 
 of Oude by the misgovernment of Colonel Ilann y, and of the 
 insurrection at Goruckpore against that officer in consequence, is, 
 perhaps, the most masterly portion of the whole speech : — 
 
 If we could suppose a person to have come suddenly into the country 
 unacquainted with any circumstances that had passed since the clays of 
 Sujah ul Dowlah, he would naturally ask — what cruel hand has wrought 
 this wide desolation, v/hat barbarian foe has invaded the country, has deso- 
 lated its fields, depopulated its villages? He would ask, what disputed 
 succession, civil rage, or frenzy of the inhabitants, had induced them to 
 act in hostility 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 their 
 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.” 
 
RIGHT HON. RICHARD BRI3STSLEY SHERIDAN. 10 
 
 there had been any men in the country, who had not their heaita 
 and souls so subdued by fear, as to refuse to speak the truth at alJ 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 any 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 friend- 
 ship, the marks left by the embraces of British allies — more dreadful 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 ex- 
 tortion upon his subjects ; — that their rapacity increased in proportion as 
 the means of supplying their avarice diminished ; that they made the sove- 
 reign pay as if they had a right to an increased price, because the labor 
 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 mo^t 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 declamation of 
 mine, but founded in actual fact, and in fair, clear proof before Your Lord- 
 ships — speaks powerfully what the cause of these oppressions 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 con- 
 cert : — ' there must have been machinations, forsooth, and the Begums’ 
 machinations, to produce all this !’ — Why did they rise ! — Because they 
 were people in human shape ; because patience under the detested tyran- 
 ny of man is rebellion to the sovereignty of God ; because allegiance to 
 that Power that gives us the /orms of men commands us to maintain the 
 riahtfs of men. And never yet was this truth dismissed from the human 
 heart — never in any time, in any age — never in any clime, where rude man 
 ever nad any social feeling, or where corrupt refinement had subdued all 
 
20 
 
 Memoirs of the life of the 
 
 feelinge, — never was this one unextinguishable truth destrojed from the 
 heart of man, placed as it is, in the core and centre of it by his Maker, 
 that man was not made the property of man ; that human power is a trust 
 for human benefit ; 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 rosed’ 
 
 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 fa- 
 vorite arena of the latter. Mr. Burke had, in opening the prose- 
 cution, remarked, that prudence is a quality incompatible vdth 
 vice, and can never be effectively enlisted in its cause : — “I never 
 (said he) knew a man who was bad, fit for service that was good. 
 There is always some disqualifying ingredient, mixing and spoil- 
 ing the compound. The man seems paralytic on that side, his 
 muscles there have lost their very tone and character — they can- 
 not move. In short, the accomplishment of any thing good is a 
 physical impossibility for such a man. There is decrepitude as 
 well as distortion : he could not, if he would, is not more cer- 
 tain than that he would not, If he 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’ reputed abilities can furnish such matter of accusation against him- 
 self. For, it must be 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. When he seems most earnest and laborious to defend himself, 
 it appears as if he had but one idea uppermost in his mind — a determina- 
 tion not to care what he says, provided he keeps clear of fact. He knows 
 that truth must convict him, and concludes, d converso, that falsehood will 
 acquit h'm ; forgetting that there must be some connection, 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 architeciiire ; — he lays his ornamental work first, and his 
 massy foundation at the top of it ; and thus iiis whole building tumbles 
 upon his head. Other people look well to their ground, choose their posi- 
 tion, and watch whether they are likely to be surprised there ; but he, as 
 
EIGHT HON. KICHABD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 21 
 
 if in the ostentation of his heart, builds upon a precipice, 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 seri- 
 ousness ; yet I am aware that it ought to be more seriously accounted for 
 — because I am sure it has been a scrt 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. I am 
 aware that, to account for this seeming paradox, historians, poets, and 
 even philosophers — at least of ancient times— have adopted the supersti- 
 tious solution of the vulgar, and said that the gods deprive men of reason 
 whom they devote to destruction or to punishment. But to unassuming 
 or unprejudiced reason, there is no need to resort to any supposed super- 
 natural interference ; for the solution will be found in the eternal rule? 
 that formed the mind of man, and gave a quality and nature to every pas* 
 sion that inhabits in it. 
 
 “ An Honorable friend of mine, who is now, I believe, near me, — a gen- 
 tleman, to whom I never can on any occasion refer without feelings of res- 
 pect, and, on this subject, without feelings of the most grateful homage ; 
 — a gentleman, whose abilities upon this occasion, 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 ad- 
 miration of that hour when all of us are mute, and most of us forgotten ; — 
 that Honorable gentleman has told you that Prudence, the first of virtues, 
 never can be used in the cause of vice. If, reluctant and diffident, I might 
 take such a liberty, I should express a doubt, whether experience, obser- 
 vation, 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 w^e can read the history of a Philip of Macedon, a Csesar, or 
 a Cromwell, without confessing, that there have been evil purposes, bane- 
 ful to the peace and to the rights of men, conducted — if I may not say, wdth 
 prudence or wdth wisdom— yet with awful craft and most successful and 
 commanding subtlety. If, however, I might make a distinction, I should 
 bay that it is the proud attempt to mix a variety of lordly crimes, that un- 
 settles the prudence of the mind, and breeds this distraction of roe brain. 
 
22 
 
 MEMOIES OF THE LIFE OF THE 
 
 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 effect ; 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 dif- 
 ferent 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 diflerent, but concentering, powers, guided 
 by the same influence of reason, and endeavoring 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 in- 
 sures the defeat — each clamors 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. Prudence, — while the distracted brain and 
 shivered intellect proclaim the tumult that is within, and bear their testi- 
 monies, 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. Sheri- 
 dan) consists chiefly of comments upon the affidavits taken be- 
 fore Sir Elijah Impey, — in which the irrelevance and inconsist- 
 ency of these documents is shrewdly exposed, and the dryness 
 of detail, inseparable from such a task, enlivened by those light 
 touches of conversational humor, and all that by-play of elo- 
 quence 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 flights, and produced some of those dazzling 
 bursts of declamation, of which the traditional fa^e is most viv- 
 idly 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 the moment, but, as connected with literary 
 anecdote, will make the passage itself long memorable. Poli- 
 
^ EIGHT HON. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 23 
 
 tics 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 epithet,"^ the 
 name of the latter will, at the long run, pay back the honor with 
 interest. Having reprobated the violence and perfidy of the 
 Governor-General, in forcing the Nabob to plunder his owm re- 
 latives 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 and modern writers,' that have searched into the depravity of 
 former ages to draw a lesson for the present, you will not find dn. act of 
 treacherous, deliberate, cool cruelty that could exceed this.’’ 
 
 On being asked by some honest brother Whig, at the conclu- 
 sion of the Speech, how he came to compliment Gibbon with 
 the epithet luminous,” Sheridan answered in a half whisper, “ I 
 said ‘ i^oluminous.’ ” 
 
 It is well known that the simile of the vulture and the lamb, 
 which occurs in the address of Rolla to the Peruvians, had been 
 previously employed by Mr. Sheridan, in this speech ; and it 
 showed a degree of indifference to criticism, — which criticism, 
 it must be owned, not unfrequently deserves, — to reproduce be- 
 fore 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, af 
 of a certain altitude 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 Re- 
 port : — 
 
 ‘‘ This is the character of all the protection ever afforded to the allies of 
 Britain under the government of Mr. Hastings. They send their troops to 
 
 * Gibbon himself thought it an event worthy of record in his Memoirs. “ Before my de- 
 parture from England (he says), I was present at the august spectacle of Mr. Hastings’s 
 Trial in Westminster Hall. It was not my province to absolve or condemn the Governor 
 of India ; but Mr. Sheridan's eloquence demanded my applause ; nor could I hear without 
 rTTO'ion the personal compliment which he paid me in the presence of the British natio^. 
 F.rprn this display of genius, which blamed four successive days,” &c, &p 
 
24 
 
 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 
 
 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 referenc is more frequently made than to any other 
 part of the Speech ; — though the gross inaccuracy of the printed 
 Eeport 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 sub- 
 ject of mockery and ridicule ; when I see the feelings of a son treated by 
 Mr. Middleton as puerile and contemptible ; when I see an order given 
 by 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 stand- 
 ard while marching to oppress the mother, as to a banner that gives dignity, 
 that gives a holy sanction and a reverence to their enterprise ; when I see 
 and hear these things done-— when I hear them brought into three delibe- 
 rate Defences set up against the Charges of the Commons— my Lords, I 
 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 argu- 
 ment — 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 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 enjoyment. It is guid- 
 ed, not by the slow dictates of reason ; it awaits not encouragement from 
 reflection or from thought ; it asks no aid of memory ; it is an innate, but 
 active, consciousness of having been the object of a thousand tender solici- 
 tudes, a thousand waking watchful cares, of meek anxiety and patient sac- 
 rifices, unremarked and unrequited by the object. It is a gratitude found- 
 ed upon a conviction of obligations, not remembered, but the more bind- 
 ing because not remembered, — because conferred before the tender reason 
 could acknowledge, or the infant memory record them — a gratitude and 
 affection, which no circumstances should subdue, and which few can 
 strengthen ; a gratitude, in which even injury from the object, though it 
 may blend regret, should never breed resentment 5 an affection which can 
 be increased only by the decay of those to whom we owe it, an^ which is 
 
EIGHT HON. KICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 25 
 
 then most fervent when the tremulous voice of age, resistless in its feeble- 
 ness, inquires 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, w'ho can blot out and erase from 
 ihe 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 deliberate, 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 stub- 
 born evils of his own worthless heart, not driven by the fury of his own 
 distracted brain, but lending his sacrilegious hand, without any 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 institutes or religious creeds : — they 
 are crimes — and the persons who perpetrate 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 con- 
 trasts 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 car- 
 ried, 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, wffiich leaves no doubt 
 as to the sincerity of the hate and anger professed by him, — in 
 Sheridan, whose nature was of a much gentler cast, the vehemence 
 is evidently 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 destructiveness of the 
 tire . — 
 
 yob. II, § 
 
26 
 
 MEMOIES OF THE LIFE OF THE 
 
 “ 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 op- 
 pression, having had no equals to control them — no moment for reflection 
 — we conceive that, if tt could have been possible to seize the guilty profli- 
 gates for a moment, you might bring conviction to their hearts and repent- 
 ance to their minds. But when you see a cool, reasoning, deliberate 
 tyrant — one who was not born and bred to arrogance, — w^ho has been 
 nursed in a mercantile line — who has been used to look round among his 
 fellow-subjects — to transact business with his equals — to account for con- 
 duct to his master, and, by that wise system of the Company, to detail all 
 his transactions — who never could fly one moment from himself, but must 
 be obliged every night to sit down and hold up a glass to his own soul — 
 who could never be blind to his deformity, and who must have brought his 
 conscience not only to connive at but to approve of it — this it is that dis- 
 tinguishes it from the worst cruelties, the worst enormities of those, who, 
 born to tyranny, and finding no superior, no adviser, have gone to the last 
 presumption that there were none above to control them hereafter. This 
 is a circumstance that aggravates the whole of the guilt of the unfortunate 
 gentleman we are now arraigning at your bar.’’ 
 
 We now come to the Peroration, in which, skilfully and with- 
 out appearance of design, it is contrived that 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, re- 
 cur at its close, — leaving in the minds of the Judges a composed 
 and concentrated feeling of the great public duty they had to 
 perform, in deciding upon the arraignment of guilt brought be- 
 fore them. The Court of Directors, it appeared, had ordered an 
 inquiry into the conduct of the Begums, with a view to the res- 
 titution of their property, if it should appear that the charges 
 against them were unfounded ; but to this proceeding Mr. Hast- 
 ings objected, on the ground that the Begums themselves had not 
 called for such interference in their favor, and that it was incon- 
 sistent with the “ Majesty of Justice” to condescend to volunteer 
 Her services. The pompous and jesuitical style in which this 
 singular doctrine* is expressed, in a letter addressed by tJio 
 
 * “Jf nolliing (says Mr. Mill) remained to stain the remiialicr af Mr. Hastings but 
 
BIGHT HON. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 27 
 
 Governor-general to Mr. Macpherson, 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 
 what 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 lan- 
 guage, 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 v^^rongs and the promise of redress, with the denun- 
 ciation 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 
 Brtish justice ? Are 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 Justice here. 
 Here, indeed, I see a different form, enthroned by the sovereign 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 scorning 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 quii> 
 bled away, but to the plain facts, — to weigh and consider the testimony in 
 your own minds ; we kuov/ the result must be inevitable. Let the truth 
 appear and our cause is gained. It is this, I conjure Your Lordships, for 
 your own honor, for the honor of the nation, for the honor of human na- 
 ture, now entrusted to your care, — it is this duty that the Commons of 
 England, I'peaking through us, claims at youi* hands. 
 
 irinriples avowed in this singular pleading, his character, among the frienda of justio?, 
 i^uid be sufficiently determined.” 
 
28 
 
 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 
 
 ** 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 li- 
 belled, by the wide fame of your own tribunal, by the sacred pledge by 
 which you sw^ear in the solemn hour of decision, knowing that that decision 
 will then bring you tne 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 
 specimens. 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, in- 
 deed, 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 there is between a cast taken di- 
 rectly 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 correcting hand has passed, 
 and all that was minute or superfluous is generalized and softened 
 away. 
 
 Neither was it in such rhetorical passages as abound, perhaps, 
 rather lavishly, in this Speech, that the chief strength of Mr. Sher- 
 idan’s talent lay. Good sense and wit were the great weapons 
 
 * I had sdecled many more, but must confess that they appeared to me, when in print, 
 so little worthy of the reputation of the Speech, that I thought it would be, on the whole, 
 more prudent to omit them. Even of the passages, here cited, I speak ralher^from my 
 imagination of what they must have been, than from my actual feeling of what they are. 
 T!ie character, given of such Reports, by Lord Ix)ughborough, 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 
 minutes. Lord Loughborough, in the course of his observations on the motion, said, 
 “ God forbid that ever their Lordships should call on llie short-hand wTiters to publich their 
 rules j for, of all people, short-hand wTiters were ever the farthest from correctness, and 
 ttiere were no man’s words they ever heard that they again returned. They were in 
 general ignorant, as acting mechanically ; and by not considering the antecedent, and 
 CA^ching the sound, and not the sense, they perverted the sense of the sjieaker, and made 
 bpn appear as ignorant as themselves,” 
 
RIGHT HON. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 29 
 
 of his oratory — shrewdness in detecting the weak points of an 
 ad versary, and infinite powers of raillery in exposing it. These 
 wei*e faculties which he possessed in a greater degree than any 
 of his contenaporaries ; and so well did he himself know the 
 stronghold of his powers, that it was but rarely, after this dis- 
 play in Westminster Hall, that he was tempted to leave it for 
 the higher flights of oratory, or to wander after Sense into that 
 region of metaphor, where too often, like Angelica in the en- 
 chanted palace of Atlante, she is sought for in vain.'^ His at- 
 tempts, indeed, at the florid or figurative style, whether in his 
 speeches or his writings, were seldom very successful. That 
 luxuriance of fancy, which in Burke was natural and indigenous, 
 was in him rather a forced and exotic grovv th. It is a remarkable 
 proof of this difference between them, that while, in the memo- 
 randums of speeches left behind by Burke, we find, thed the 
 points of argument and business were those which he prepared, 
 trusting to the ever ready wardrobe of his fancy for their adorn- 
 ment, — in Mr. Sheridan’s notes it is chiefly the decorative pas- 
 sages, 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 occasion, 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 fora 
 momentary enchantment, and then shut up again. 
 
 In truth, the similes and illustrations of Burke form such an 
 intimate, and often essential, part of his reasoning, that if the 
 whole strength of the Samson does not lie in those luxuriant 
 locks, it would at least be considerably diminished by their loss. 
 Whereas, in the Speech of Mr. Sheridaii, which we have just 
 been considering, there is hardly one of the rhetorical ornaments 
 
 ♦ Curran used to say langliingly, “When I can’t talk sense, I talk motaphor ” 
 
30 
 
 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OP THE 
 
 that might not be detached, without, in any great degree, injuring 
 the force of the general statement. Another consequence of tnis 
 difference between them is observable in their' respective modes 
 of transition, from what may be called the business of a speech 
 to its more generalized and rhetorical parts. When Sheridan 
 rises, his elevation is not sufficiently prepared ; 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 imagin- 
 ation never allows even business to subside into mere prose, 
 sustains a pitch throughout which accustoms the mind to wonder., 
 and, while it prepares us to accompany him in his boldest flights, 
 makes us, even when he walks, still feel that he has wings : — 
 
 Mime quand Voiseau marches on sent quHl a des ailes^ 
 
 The sincerity of the praises bestowed by Burke on the Speech 
 of his brother Manager has sometimes been questioned, but upon 
 no sufficient grounds. His zeal for the success of the Impeach- 
 ment, no doubt, had a considerable share in the enthusiasm, with 
 which this great effort in its favor filled him. It may be granted, 
 too, that, in admiring the apostrophes that variegate this speech, 
 he was, in some degree, enamored of a reflection of himself ; 
 
 “ Cunctaque miratur^ quihus est mirabilis ipseJ^ 
 
 He sees reflected there, in fainter light, 
 
 All that combines to make himself so bright. 
 
 But whatever mixture of other motives there may have been 
 in the 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.” The severer taste of Mr. Fox dissented, as might be 
 expected, from this remark. He replied, that “ he thought such 
 a mixture was for the advantage of neither — as producing poetic 
 prose, or, st 11 worse, prosaic poetry.” It was, indeed, the opinion 
 of Mr. Fox, that the impression made upon Burke by these 
 
HIGHT HOK. RiCSARD BRR^SLEY SHERIDAN. 81 
 
 somewhat too theatrical tirades is observable in the change that 
 subsequently took place in his own style of writing ; and that the 
 horid 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 disparage- 
 ment of the eloquence of Burke, to apply to it, at any time of 
 his life, the epithet “ flowery,” — a designation only applicable to 
 that ordinary ambition of style, whose chief display, by necessity, 
 consists of ornament without thought, and pomp without sub- 
 stance. A succession of bright images, clothed in simple, trans- 
 parent language, — even when, as in Burke, they “ crowd upon 
 the aching sense ” too 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 eloquence in the Book of Proverbs 
 — Apples of gold in a net-work of silver ” — is peculiarly ap- 
 plicable 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 net-work, 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 supplied, the names of Burke, Grattan, Sheridan, Curran, 
 Canning, and Plunkett, abundantly testify. Yet had Lord Chat- 
 ham, before any of these great speakers Vere heard,^,led the way, 
 m the same animated and figured strain of oratory while ano- 
 
 * His few noble sentences on the privileg-e of the poor man's cottage are universally 
 Known. There is also his fam iful allusion to the confluence of the Saone and Rhone, the 
 traditional reports of which vary, l)oih as to the exact terms in which it was expressed, 
 ana the persons to wliom he applied it. Even Lord Orford docs not seem to have ascer- 
 
82 
 
 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 
 
 ther Englishman, Lord Bacon, by making Fancy the hand-maid 
 of Philosophy, had long since set an example of that union of 
 the imaginative and the solid, which, both in writing and in speak- 
 ing, forms the characteristic 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 general sensation; — possibly from the nature and 
 numerousness of the assembly before wFich 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, w^ho 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 impossible, my dear woman, to convey 
 to you the delight, the astonishment, 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 good- 
 ness, which no one with any thing like a heart about them, could 
 have listened to without being the wiser and the better for the 
 rest of their lives. What must my feelings be ! — you can only 
 imagine. To tell you the truth, it is with some difficulty that I 
 can ‘ let dowm my mind,’ as Mr. Burke said afterwards, to talk or 
 think on any other subject. But pleasure, too exquisite, becomes 
 pain, and I am at this moment suffering for the delightful anxieties 
 of last week.” 
 
 tained the latter point To the.se may be added the following- specimen : — “ I don’t inquire 
 from what quarter the wind cometh, but whither it goeth ; and, if any measure tha* 
 comes from the Right ITonorable Gentleman tends to the public good, my bark is ready.’' 
 Of a different kind is that grand passage, — “ America, they tell me, has resisted — I re- 
 joice to hear it,” — which Mr. Grattan used to pronounce finer than anything in Demos* 
 thcnes. 
 
KIGHT HON. RlCHARn BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 3^ 
 
 « 
 
 It IS a most happy combination when the wife of a man of 
 genius unites intellect enough to appreciate the talents of her 
 Imsband, with the quick, feminine sensibility, that can thus pas- 
 sionately 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 Statius, in alluding to his own victories at the Al- 
 banian Games, mentions the “ breathless kisses,’^ with which his 
 wife, Claudia, used to cover the triumphal garlands he brought 
 home. Mrs. Sheridan may well take her place beside these 
 Eoman wives ; — and she had another resemblance to one of them, 
 which was no less womanly and attractive. Not only did Cal* 
 purnia sympathize with the glory of her husband abroad, but she 
 could also, like Mrs. Sheridan, add a charm to his talents at home, 
 by setting his verses to music and singing them to her harp, — 
 “with no instructor,” adds Pliny, “but Love, who is, after all, 
 the best master.” 
 
 . ^ 
 
 This letter of Mrs. Sheridan thus proceeds : — “ You were per- 
 haps alarmed by the account of S.’s illness in the papers ; but I 
 have the pleasure to assure you he is now perfectly well, and I 
 hope by next week we shall be quietly settled in the country, 
 and sufiered to repose, in every sense of the word ; for indeed 
 we have, both of us, been in a constant state of agitation, of one 
 kind or other, for some time back. 
 
 “ I 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 newspapers : I assure you the accounts in 
 them are not exaggerated, and only echo the exclamation of ad- 
 miration that is in every body’s mouth. I make no excuse for 
 dwelling on this subject: I know you will not find it tedious. 
 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 
 complains of, arose not only from the anxiety which she so 
 deeply felt, for the success of this great public effort of her hus- 
 band, but from the share which she herself had taken, in the la- 
 
 VOL. II, 2'^ 
 
34 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 
 
 bor and attention necessary to prepare him for it. The m*nfl of 
 Sheridan being, from the circumstances of his education and life^ 
 but scantily informed upon all subjects for which reading is ne- 
 cessary, 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 Fm an ignoramus — but here I am — in- 
 struct me and Fll do my best.” It is said that the stock of nu- 
 merical lore, upon which he ventured to set up as the Aristar- 
 chus 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 
 appointed, some time or other. Chancellor of the Exchequer. 
 For financial display it must be owned that this was rather a 
 crude preparation. But there are other subjects of oratory, 
 on which the outpourings of information, newly acquired, may 
 have a freshness and vivacity which it would be vain to expect, 
 in the communication of knowledge that has lain long in the 
 mind, and lost in circumstantial spirit what it has gained in gene- 
 ral mellowness. They, indeed, who have been regularly disci 
 plined in learning, may be not only too familiar 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 unimpi essive on particular subjects ; while, on the contrary, 
 an uninstructed man of genius, like Sheridan, who approaches a 
 topic of importance for the first time, has not only the stimulus 
 of ambition and curiosity to aid him in mastering its details, but 
 the novelty of firct 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 w'ith re- 
 spect to the history of Indian affairs ; and there remain among 
 
RIGHT HOH. RICHARD BRIKSLEY SHERIDAN. 35 
 
 his papers numerous proofs of the labor which his preparation 
 f)r this arduous task cost not only himself but Mrs. Sheridan. 
 Among others, there is a large pamphlet of Mr. Hastings, con- 
 sisting of more than two hundred pages, copied out neatly in her 
 writing, with some assistance 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 me- 
 morandums in their places. So that there was hardly a single 
 member of the family that could not boast of having contributed 
 his share, to the mechanical construction of this speech. The 
 pride of its success was, of course, equally participated; and 
 Edwards, a favorite 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 pa- 
 geants in the drama of public life, w^hich show how fleeting are 
 the labors and triumphs of politicians — “ what shadows they are, 
 and what shadows they pursue.” When w^e consider the im- 
 portance 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 harassing persecution of a meri- 
 torious 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 with their 
 echoes, are now coldly judged, through the medium of disfiguring 
 Reports, and regarded, at the best, but as rhetorical effusions, in- 
 debted to temper for their warmth, and to fancy for their de 
 tails; — while so little was the reputation of the delinquent him- 
 self even scorched by the bolts of eloqiJfence thus launched at 
 him, that a subsequent House of Commons thought themselves 
 
36 
 
 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 
 
 honored 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 labor and 
 talent, it seems wonderful that there should still be found high 
 and gifted spirits, to waste themselves away in such temporary 
 struggles, and, like that spendthrift of genius, Sheridan, to dis- 
 coxint their immortality, for the payment of fame in hand which 
 these triumphs of the day secure to them. 
 
 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. Suc- 
 cess, 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 
 splendor over his tyranny and injustice ever since.f Too often 
 in the moral logic of this world, it matters but little what the 
 premises of conduct may be, so the conclusion but turns out 
 showy and prosperous. There is also, it must be owned, among 
 the English, (as perhaps, among all free people,) a strong taste 
 for the arbitrary, when they themselves are not to be the vic- 
 tims of it, which invariably secures to such accomplished des- 
 potisms, as that of Lord Straflbrd 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 
 prosecution indulged, — Mr. Sheridan, from imagination, luxuri- 
 ating in its own display, and Burke from the same cause, added 
 to his overpowering autocracy of temper — were but too much 
 
 * When called as a witness before the House, in 1813, on the sulyect of the renewal 
 cf the East India Company’s Charter. 
 
 f In the important article of Finance, however, for which he made so many sacrifices of 
 humanity, even the justification of success was wanting to his measures. The following 
 is the account given by the Select Committee of the House of Commons in 1810, of the 
 state m which India was left by his administration : — “The revenues had been absorbed ; 
 the pay and allowances of both the civil and military branches of the service were greatly 
 in arrear ; the credit of the (i»mpany was extremely depressed ; and, added to all, the 
 who!e system had fallen into such irregularity and confusion, that the real state ot afiairs 
 could not be ascertained till the conclusion of the veor 1786-G .” — Third Eejport. 
 
RIGHT HOH. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 37 
 
 calculated to throw suspicion on the cause in which they were 
 employed, and to produce a reaction in favor of the person whom 
 they were meant to overwhelm. ^ Rogovos, Judlces,—}A.v, Has- 
 tings might well have said, — “ si iste disertus est, ideo me dam- 
 naH oportet 
 
 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 judgment, according as it may be mmre 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 palliate, 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 Trea- 
 ties, may be admitted, by the same gentle casuistry, as an apology 
 for his frequent infractions 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 busi- 
 ness of government by written documents threw on all the ma- 
 chinery of his measures, deliberative as well as executive. These 
 Minutes, indeed, form a record of fluctuation and inconsistency — 
 not only on the part of the Governor-General, but of all the 
 members of the government — 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 
 
 * Seneca, Controvers. lib. iii. c. 19. 
 
 f Instances of this, on the purl 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, to serve a very different purpose, he has not scrupled to de- 
 clare it as visible as the light of the sun, that the Nabob is a tnere pageant, and without 
 even the shadow of authority.” On another transaction in 1781, Mr. Mill remarks : — “ It 
 IS a curious moral speclacls to compare Uie minutes and letters of the Governor-General, 
 when, at the beginning of the year 1780, mainlAining the propriety of condemning the 
 Nabob to sustain the whole of the l.'urden imposial upon him, and his minutes and letters 
 maintaining the propriety of relieving him from those burthens in 1781. The argunrieats 
 
88 
 
 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 
 
 success, when issuing out of such a chaos of self-contradiction 
 and shuffling. It cannot be denied, however, that such a system 
 of exposure — submitted, as it Ayas in this case, to a still further 
 scrutiny, under the bold, denuding hands of a Burke and a She- 
 ridan — was a test to which the councils of few rulers could with 
 impunity be brought. Where, indeed, is the statesman that 
 could bear to have diis 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 the Law, vibrating 
 between the English and the Hindoo codes, left such tempting 
 openings for injustice 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 diffleult, perhaps, for even more 
 moderate men than Hastings, not occasionally to break bounds 
 and go continually astray. 
 
 To all these considerations in his favor 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 
 exaggerated history of his government,^ without feeling deep 
 
 and facts adduced on the one occasion, as well as the conclusion, are a flat contradiction 
 to those exhibited on the other.” 
 
 * Nothing can be more partial and misleading than the coloring given to these trans- 
 actions by Mr. Nicholls and other apologists of Hastings. For the view which I have my- 
 self taken of the whole case I am chiefly indebted to the able History of British India by 
 Mr. Mill — wliose industrious research and clear analytical statements make him the most 
 valuable authority that can be consulted on the subject. 
 
 The mood of mind in which Air. Nicholls listened to the proceedings of the Impeachment 
 may be judged from the following declaration, which he has had the courage to promul- 
 gate to the public : — ‘‘On this Cliarge (the Begum Charge) Mr. Sheridan made a speech, 
 which both sides of the House professed greatly to admire — for Mr. Pitt now openly ap- 
 proved of the Impeachment. I ivill C/^knowledge, thatl did not admire this speech of Mr. 
 Sheridan,* 
 
EIGHT HOK. RICHAED BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 
 
 39 
 
 icdiiJ'nation excited at almost every page of it. His predecessors 
 haa, it is true, been guilty of wrongs as glaring — the treachery of 
 Lora Clive to Omichund in 1757, and the abandonment of Kam- 
 narain to Meer Causim under the administration of Mr. Vansit- 
 tart, 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 Indian empire, for the formation of 
 the most perfect code of tyranny, in every department, legis- 
 lative, judicial, and executive, that ever entered into the dreams 
 of intoxicated power. But, while the practice of Mr. Hastings 
 was, at least, as tyrannical as that of his predecessors, the prin- 
 ciples upon which he founded that practice were still more odious 
 and unpardonable. In his manner, indeed, of defending 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 of 
 rapine, which he so ably illustrated by his measures, and has so 
 shamelessly recorded with his pen. x 
 
 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 o wn recorded asser- 
 tions, turn hostilely round upon his own expressed opinions, dis- 
 claim the proxies which he himself had delegated, and, m 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 execution of Nuncomar, who had 
 stood forth as his accuser, and, therefore, became his victim, — 
 his violent aggression upon the Raja of Benares, and that com- 
 bination 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 charity 
 
40 
 
 MEMOIKS OF THE LIFE OF THE 
 
 may extenuate, but never can remove. That the perpetrator of 
 such deeds should have been popular among the natives of India 
 only proves how low was the standard of justice, to which tne entire. 
 
 enor 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 w^onder that the true 
 worship of Liberty should so long have continued to flourish in a 
 country, where such heresies to her sacred cause are found. 
 
 I 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 the fore-ground of Mr. Sheridan’s life, but because of that 
 general interest which an observer of our Institutions must take 
 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 occa- 
 sion of such solemnity and importance, by two persons brought 
 forward from the middle ranks of society into the very van of 
 political distinction and influence, on the other hand, in the sym- 
 pathy and favor extended by the Court to the practical assertor 
 of despotic principles, we trace the prevalence of that feeling, 
 which, since the commencement of the late King’s reign, has made 
 the Throne the rallying point of all that • are unfriendly to the 
 cause of freedom. Again, in considering the conduct of the 
 Crown Lawyers during the Trial — the narrow and irrational 
 rules of evidence which they sought to establish — the uncon- 
 stitutional control assumed by the Judges, over the decisions of 
 the tribunal before which the cause was tried, and the refusal to 
 communicate the reasons upon which those decisions were found- 
 ed — above all, too, the legal opinions expressed on the great 
 question relative to the abatement of an Impeachment by Dis- 
 solution, in which almost the whole body of lawyers* took the 
 
 * Among llie rest, Lord Erskine, who allowed his profession, on this occasion, to stand 
 in the light of his judgment. “ As to a Nisi prins lawyer (said Burke) giving an opinion on 
 the duration of an Impeachment — as well might a rahhit, that breeds six limes a year 
 pretend to know any thing of tlie gestation of an elephanl.’’ 
 
RIGHT HON. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 4l 
 
 wrong, the pedantic, and the unstatesmanlike side of the ques- 
 tion, — while in all these indications of the spirit of that profes- 
 sion, and of its propensity to tie down the giant Truth, with its 
 small threads of technicality and precedent, we perceive the dan- 
 ger to be apprehended from the interference of such a spirit in 
 politics, on the other side, arrayed against these petty tactics of 
 the Forum, we see the broad banner of Constitutional Law, up- 
 held alike by a Fox and a Pitt, a Sheridan and aDundas, and 
 find truth and good sense taking refuge from the equivocations 
 of lawyers, in such consoling documents as the Report upon the 
 Abuses of the Trial by Burke — a document which, if ever a re- 
 form of the English law should be attempted, will stand as a 
 great guiding light to the adventurers in that heroic enterprise. 
 
 It has been frequently asserted, that on the evening of Mr. 
 Sheridan’s grand display in the House of Commons, The School 
 for Scandal and the Duenna w'ere acted at Covent Garden and 
 Drury Lane, and thus three great 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 instance of Sheridan, not only^ possible, but within the 
 scope of a very easy arrangement, it is to be lamented that no 
 such coincidence did actually take place, and that the ability to 
 have achieved the miracle is all that can be with truth attributed 
 to him. From a careful examination of the play- bills of tii3 
 diiferent theatres during this period, I have ascertained, with re- 
 gret, that neither on the evening of the speech in the House e»f 
 Commons, nor on any of the days of the oration in Westminster 
 Hall, was there, either at Covent-Garden, Drury-Lane, or Hay- 
 market theatres, any piece w^hatever of Mr. Sheridan’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, though referring to a later period of the Trial, may with- 
 out impropriety be inserted here : — 
 
 “ Just as I received your letter yesterday, I was setting out for 
 
42 
 
 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 
 
 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 pre- 
 cision with which he conveys his ideas is truly delightful. And 
 last, iiot least, 1 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 first man among them at once. 
 There is a dignity and grace in his countenance and deportment, 
 very striking — at the same time that one cannot trace the smal- 
 lest 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 I am not so lavish 
 of praises before indifferent persons, but I am sure you will ac- 
 quit me of partiality in what I have said. When they left the 
 Hall we walked about some time, and were joined by several of 
 the managers — among the rest by 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,” &c. 
 
RIGHT UOxV. IIICHAIID BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 43 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 1)1i:ATH of MR. SHERIDAN’S FATHER. — VERSES BY MRS. SHER 
 IDAN ON THE DEATH OF HER SISTER, MRS. TICKELL. 
 
 In the summer of this year the father of Mr. Sheridan died. 
 He had been recommended to try the air of Lisbon for his 
 health, and had left Dublin for that purpose, accompanied by 
 his younger daughter. But the rapid increase of his malady 
 prevented him from proceeding 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 favor. In his happiest moments, both of love and fame, the 
 thought of being excluded from the paternal roof came across 
 him with a chill that seemed to sadden all his triumph."^ When 
 it is considered, too, that the father, to whom he felt thus amia- 
 bly, had never distinguished him by any particular kindness, 
 but, on the contrary, had always shown a marked preference for 
 the disposition and abilities of his brother Charles — it is impos?- 
 sible not to acknowledge, in such true mial affection, a proof 
 that talent was not the only ornament of Sheridan, and that, 
 ho'^.^ever unfivcfrable to moral culture was the life that he led, 
 Nature, in forming his mind, had implanted there virtue, as 
 web' as genius. 
 
 Of the tender attention which he paid to his father on his 
 
 * See ine letter written by him immediately after his marriage, vol. i. page 80, and the 
 anecdote in page 111, same vol, 
 
44 
 
 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 
 
 death-bed, I am enabled to lay before the reader no less a testi- 
 mony 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 com- 
 forting his last moments. And here, — it is difficult even for 
 contempt to keep down the indignation, that one cannot but fee] 
 at those slanderers, under the name of biographers, who calling 
 in Jiialice to the aid of their ignorance, have not scrupled to jvs- 
 sert 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 what 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 father, 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, him- 
 self, to Margate, to pay the last tribute to his father’s remains. The 
 letters of Miss Sheridan are addressed to 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, Dihden^ Avgust 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. I 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 ten- 
 derness of your worthy husband, for procuring you such a de- 
 gree of calmness of mind as may secure your health from injury. 
 In the midst of what I have snlfered I have been thankful that 
 you did not share a scene of distress which you could not have 
 relieved. I have supported Inyself, but I am sure, had we been 
 together, we should have sutrer('d more. 
 
 “ With regard to my brother’s kindness, I can scarcely ex 
 
RIGHT HON. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 46 
 
 press to you how great it has been, lie saw iny father Tvhile he 
 was still sensible, and never quitted him till the awful moment was 
 past — 1 will not now dwell on particulars. My mind is not suf- 
 ficiently recovered to enter on the subject, and you could only 
 be distressed by it. He returns soon to Margate to pay the 
 last duties in the manner desired by my father. Ilis feelings 
 have been severely tried, and earnestly 1 pray he may not suf- 
 fer from that cause, or from the fatigue he has endured. His 
 tenderness to me 1 never can forget. I had so little claim on 
 him, that I still feel a degree of surprise mixed with my grati- 
 tude. 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. I 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 everything 
 that concerns you. I know not whether you will feel like me a 
 melancholy pleasure in the reflection that my father received the 
 last kind offices from my brother Richard,'^ whose conduct on 
 this occasion must convince every one of the goodness of his 
 heart and the 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. 1 shall soon write more to you, but shall for a short 
 time sus])cnd 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 a lellerj from which I have given an extract in the early part of this volume, wiit- 
 teu by the elder sister of Sheridan a short time after his death, in referring to the differ- 
 ences that existed between him and his father, she says — “ and yet it was lliat son, and 
 not the object of his partial fondness, who at last closed his eyes.” It generally hap- 
 pens Uial the injustice of siu.h panialities is revenged by the ingratitude of those who are 
 
46 
 
 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 
 
 In another letter, dated ii few days after, she gives an account 
 of the domestic life of Mrs. Sheridan, which, like everything that 
 is related of that most interesting woman, excites a feeling to- 
 wards her memory, little short of love. 
 
 “ My Dear Love, Dihden, Friday ^ 22. 
 
 “ I shall endeavor to resume my journal, though my anxiety 
 to hear from you^occupies my mind in a way that unfits m6 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 considerate ; so that 
 I 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 I did not see him. Last night Mrs S. 
 showed me a picture of Mrs. Tickell, which she wears round 
 her neck. The thing was misrepresented to you ; — it was not 
 done after her death, but a short time before it. The sketch 
 was taken while she slept, by a painter at Bristol. This Mrs. 
 Sheridan got copied by Cosway, who has softened down the tra- 
 ces of illness in such a way that the picture conveys no gloomy 
 idea. It represents her in a sweet sleep ; which must have been 
 soothing to her friend, after seeing her for a length of time in a 
 state of constant suffering. 
 
 “ My brother left us W ednesday morning, and we do not ex 
 pect 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 express desire should be performed in 
 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 
 
 .he objects of them ; and the present instance, as there is but toe much reason to believe, 
 was not altogether an exception to the remark. 
 
 •Airs. Tickell. 
 
Mam HOK-. RICilAtlB brinbley sheribak. a? 
 
 absences, which she knows are unavoidable. 1 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 man- 
 ner to them is truly delightful. The girl, you know, is the eldest. 
 The 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 musioroom. As yet I cannot 
 enjoy their parties ; — a song from Mrs. Sheridan affected me last 
 night in a most painful manner. I shall not try the experiment 
 soon again. Mrs, S. blamed herself for putting me to the trial, 
 and, after tea, got a book, which she read to us till supper. This, 
 I find, IS ine^ 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 it the first day of our getting into mourning. 
 All the servants in deep mourning made a melancholy appear- 
 ance, 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 Liriley here, I would not suffer a circumstance, to which I 
 must accustom myself, to break in on their comfort.” 
 
 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. Tick ell, in the year 1787, by the same 
 3omplaint that afterwards proved fated to their aunt. The pas- 
 sionate attachment of Mrs. Sheridan to this sister, and the deep 
 gi‘ief with which she mourned her loss, are expressed in a poem 
 of her own so touchingly, that, to those who love the language of 
 real feeling, I need not apologize for their introduction here. Poe- 
 try, 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 writing these verses, however, the workmanship was 
 ^forgotten in the subject ; and the critic, to feel them as he ought, 
 should forget his own craft in reading them. 
 
MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 
 
 Written in the Spring of the Year 1788^ 
 
 The hours and days pass on ; — sweet Spring returns^ 
 And whispers comfort to the heart that mourns : 
 
 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 could’st give ? 
 
 Ah, no, my best belov’d, thou still shalt be 
 My friend, my sister, all the world to me. 
 
 With 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 crown d 
 Burst from the hazle copse or verdant ground ; 
 
 Where sportive nature every form assumes. 
 
 And, gaily lavish, wastes a thousand blooms ; 
 
 Where oft we heard the echoing hills repeat 
 Our untaught strains and rural ditties sweet. 
 
 Till purpling clouds proclaim’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 and shadows browii. 
 
 That swiftly glided o’er the mead below, 
 
 Or in some fancied form descended slow. 
 
 How oft, well pleas’d each other to adorn, 
 
 W e stripp’d the blossoms from the fragrant thom^ 
 
 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 mem’ry wakes thy pleasures to destroy, 
 
 And all thy beauties serve but to renew 
 Regrets too keen for reason to subdue. 
 
 Ah me ! while tender recollections rise. 
 
 The ready teai-s obscure my sadden’d eyes, 
 
iilGHT HON. RICHAlvO BRINSLEY SHERIDAN 
 
 
 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. 
 
 Whose looks, the sweet expressions of her heart 
 So gaily innocent, so void of art. 
 
 With soft attraction whisper’d blessings drew 
 From all who stopp’d, her beauteous face to view. 
 
 Then in the dear domestic scene I mourn. 
 
 And weep past pleasures never to return ! 
 
 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 ; 
 
 No more her graceful tenderness shall prove 
 The wife’s fond duty or the parent’s love. 
 
 Those eyes, which brighten’d with maternal pride, 
 
 As her sweet infants wanton’d by her side, 
 
 "Swas my sad fate to see for ever close 
 On life, on love, the world, and all its woes , 
 
 To watch the slow disease, with hopeless care. 
 
 And veil in painful smiles my heart’s despair ; 
 tf 0 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. 
 
 Ye^, tho* oppress’d by ever-varying pain, 
 
 The gentle sulierer scarcely would complain. 
 
 Hid every sigh, each trembling doubt reprov’d. 
 
 To spare a pang to those fond hearts she lov’d. 
 
 .\nd often, in short intervals of ease. 
 
 Her kind and cheerful spirit strove to please ; 
 
 Whilst we, alas, unable to refuse 
 The sad delight we were so soon to lose. 
 
 Treasur’d each word, each kind expression claim’d, — 
 
 ^ ’Twas me she look’d at,’ — ‘ it was me she nam’d.’ 
 
 Thuis .ondly soothing grief, too great to bear. 
 
 With mournful eagerness and jealous care. 
 
 But soon, alas, from hearts with sorrow worn 
 E’en this last comfort was for ever torn • 
 
 That mind, the seat of wisdom, genius, ta«Jte, 
 
 The cruel hand of sickness now laid waste ; 
 
 6 
 
 fOL. II. 
 
MEMOiRS OP THE LIFE OP TSP, 
 
 Subdued with pain, it shar’d the common lot. 
 
 All, all its lovely energies forgot 1 
 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 pain endur’d ; 
 Calm and serene — till the last trembling breath 
 Wafted an angel from the bed of death ! 
 
 “ Oh, if the soul, releas’d from mortal cares, 
 Views the sad scene, the voice of mourning hears. 
 Then, dearest saint, didst thou thy heav’n 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. 
 
 Then— pleasing thought ! — ere to the realms of li^it 
 Thy franchis’d spirit took its happy flight. 
 
 With fond regard, perhaps, thou saw’st me bwid 
 O’er the cold relics of my heart ’t best friend. 
 
 And heard’st me swear, while her dear hand I pres;. 
 And tears of agony bedew’d my breast. 
 
 For her lov’d sake to act the mother’s part, 
 
 And take her darling infants to my heart, 
 
 With tenderest care their youthful minds improva 
 And guard her treasure with protecting love. 
 
 Once more look down, blest creature, and behold 
 These arms the precious innocence enfold ; 
 
 Assist my erring nature to fulfil 
 
 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 blesa 
 And every voice her virtue shall confess, 
 
 When my fond hekrt delighted hears her praise. 
 
 As with unconscious loveliness she strays, 
 
 ‘ Such,’ let me say, with tears of joy the while, 
 
 * Such was the softness of my Mary’s smile ; 
 
RIGHT HON. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN, 51 
 
 Such was her youth, so blithe, so rosy sweet, 
 
 And such her mind, unpractis’d in deceit ; 
 
 With artless elegance, unstudied gi*ace, 
 
 Thus did she gain in every heart a place I’ 
 
 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 Angel 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 
 communication I shall here give in his own words : — 
 
 “ On the 10th of August, 1788, I was first called on to visit 
 Mr. Sheridan, who was then fast declining at his lodgings in this 
 place, where he was in the care of his daughter. On the next 
 day Mr. E. B. Sheridan arrived here from town, having brought 
 with him Dr. Morris, of Parliament street. 1 was in the bed- 
 room with Mr. Sheridan when the son arrived, and witnessed an 
 interview in which the father showed himself to be strongly im- 
 pressed by his son’s attention, saying with considerable emotion, 
 ‘ Oh Dick, I give you a great deal of trouble !’ and seeming 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. Sher- 
 idan, 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 complied with his request, and 
 remained at the father’s bed-side till relieved by the son, about 
 three o’clock in the morning : — he then insisted on taking my 
 place. From this time he never quitted the house till his father’s 
 death ; on the day after which he wrote me a letter, now before 
 me, of which the annexed is an exact copy : 
 
62 
 
 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 
 
 ‘ Sir, Friday Morning, 
 
 ‘ I 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 acceptance 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 ijiost 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 brother-in-law, Mr. Tickell, with 
 whom and Mr. Thompson and myself, he followed his father’s 
 remains to the burial-place, which \yas not in Margate church-yard, 
 but in the north aisle of the church of 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 memo- 
 ry of Thomas Sheridan, Esq., who died in the neighboring parish of St. 
 
 * Though this idea was relinquished, it appears that a friend of Mr. Jarvis, with a zeal 
 for the memory of talent highly honorable to him, has recently caused a monument to 
 Mr. Thomas Sheridan to be raised in the church of St. Peter. 
 
EIGHT HON. EICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 53 
 
 John, August 14, 1788, in the 69th year of his age, and, according to his 
 own request, was there buried. He was grandson to Dr. Thomas 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 connect- 
 ed 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 favorably received. He was father 
 of the celebrated orator and dramatist, Richard Brinsley Sheridan. He 
 had been the schoolfellow, and, through life, was the companion, of the 
 amiable Archbishop Markham. He was the friend of the learned Dr. Sum- 
 ner, master of Harrow School, and the well-known Dr. Parr. He took his 
 first academical degree in the University of Dublin, about 1738. He was 
 honored by the University of Oxford with the degree of A. M. in 1758, 
 and in 1759 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. In the literary world he was dis- 
 tinguished by numerous and useful writings on the pronunciation of the 
 English language. Through some of his opinions ran a veki 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 
 unsullied integrity.’’ 
 
54 
 
 MEMOIKS OF THE LIFE OF THE 
 
 CHAPTER ni. 
 
 ILLNESS OF THE KING. — REGENCY. — PRIVATE LIFE OF MR. 
 
 SHERIDAN. 
 
 Mr. Sheridan had assuredly no reason to complain of any 
 deficiency of excitement in the new career to which he now devot- 
 ed 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 touched the shore, and died, 
 
 Than a new follower rose, and swelPd as proudly.” 
 
 Scarcely had the impulse, which his own genius had given to 
 the prosecution of Hastings, begun to abate, when tne indisposi- 
 tion of the King opened another field, not only for the display of 
 all his various powers, but for the fondest speculations of his in- 
 terest 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 favor, 
 gave proportionably the grace of disinterestedness to the follow- 
 ers of an Heir- Apparent, whose means of rewarding their devo- 
 tion 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 forward to the reign of the Prince, as the great and happy 
 millennium 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 realized. 
 
I 
 
 RIGHT HOH. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 55 
 
 On the first meeting of Parliament, after the illness of His 
 Majesty was known, it was resolved, from considerations of deli- 
 cacy, that the House should adjourn for a fortnight ; at the end 
 of which period it was expected that another short adjournment 
 would be proposed by the Minister. In this interval, the fol- 
 lowing 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 of a speech, in moving to adjourn on 
 Thursday, than was at first imagined. In this case we presume 
 Your Royal Highness will be of opinion that we must not be 
 wholly silent. I possessed Payne yesterday with my sentiments 
 on the line of conduct which appeared to me best to be adopted 
 on this occasion, that they might be submitted to Your Royal 
 Highness’s consideration ; and I take the liberty of repeating my 
 firm coimction, that it will greatly advance Your Royal High- 
 ness’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 Highness’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 con- 
 vinced 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 proceed- 
 ing 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 par- 
 
 * This must allude to the ne|;oliation with Lord Tliurlpw. 
 
56 
 
 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 
 
 don the freedom with which I give my opinion ; — after which ] 
 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 Highness, during the early part of the King’s illness, at 
 Windsor. The following letters, addressed by him to Mr. She- 
 ridan 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 his- 
 tory 
 
 “ 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 conversation with the Prince, as well as 
 the situation of the King’s health. I think it an advisable mea- 
 sure,^ as it is a sword that cuts both ways, without being unfit to 
 be shown to whom he pleases, — but which he will, I think, under- 
 stand best himself. Pitt desired the longest delay that could be 
 granted with propriety, previous to the declaration of the pre- 
 sent 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 ; and 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 addi- 
 tion to which, the Prince has desired Doctor Warren to write an 
 
 Xrpanin^, the comrnutiicalion to the Chancellor. 
 
RIGHT HOK. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 57 
 
 account to him, which he is now doing. His letter says, if an 
 amendment does not take place in twenty four hours, it is impos- 
 sible for the King to support it : — he adds to me, he will answer 
 for his never living to be declared a lunatic. say all this to 
 you in confidence, (though I will not answer for being intelligi- 
 ble,) 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 I 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 authorize any report, 
 nor can he contradict the worst ; a few hours must, every indi- 
 vidual says, terminate our suspense, and, therefore, all precaution 
 must be needless : — however, do what you think best. His Roy- 
 al 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, he was in a most determined frenzy. In 
 short, I am myself in so violent a state of agitation, from partici- 
 pating in the feelings of those about me, that if I 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, expres- 
 sive 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 infor- 
 mation may be useful. 
 
 “ Ever yours, most sincerely, 
 
 “J. W. Payne. 
 
 “ I have been much pleased with the Duke's zeal since my ro 
 turn, especially in this communication to you.” 
 
 ypL. II, 3^ 
 
58 
 
 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 
 
 Dear Sheridan, Twelve o'clock^ noon. 
 
 “ The King last night about twelve o’clock, being then in a 
 situation he could not long 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 
 fever, but with the exact state he was in before, with all the ges- 
 tures and ravings of the most confirmed maniac, and a new noise, 
 in imitation of the howling of a dog ; in this situation he was this 
 morning at one o’clock, when 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 apartment, 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 testimony 
 of all about him, from the first moment of His Majesty’s con- 
 finement. The doctors have since had their consultation, and find 
 His Majesty calmer, and his pulse tolerably good and much re- 
 duced, but the most decided symptoms of insanity. His theme 
 has been all this day on the subject of religion, and of his being 
 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. Truth is not easily got at in 
 palaces, and so I find here ; and time only slowly brings it to 
 one’s knowledge. One hears a little bit every day from some- 
 body, that has been reserved with great costiveness, or purposely 
 forgotten ; and by all such accounts I find that the present dis- 
 temper has been very palpable for some time past, previous to 
 any confinement from sickness ; and so apprehensive have the 
 people about him been of giving offence by interruption, that the 
 two days (viz. yesterday se’nnight and the Monday following) 
 f;hat he was five hours each on horseback, he was in a confirined 
 
RIGHT HOH. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 59 
 
 frenzy. On the Monday at his return he burst out into tears to 
 the Duke of York, and said, ‘ 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, privately communicated her knowledge 
 of his situation for some time past, and the melancholy event as 
 it stood exposed. I am prolix upon all these different reports, 
 that you may be completely master of the subject as it stands, 
 and which I shall continue to advertise you of in all its variations. 
 Warren, who is the living principle in this business, (for poor 
 Baker is half crazed himself,) and who 1 see every half hour, 
 is extremely attentive to the King’s disorder. The various fluc- 
 tuations of his ravings, as well as general situation of his health, 
 are accurately written down throughout the day, and this we have 
 got signed by the Physicians every day, and all proper inquiry 
 invited ; for I think it necessary to do every thing that may pre- 
 vent their making use hereafter of any thing like jealousy, sus- 
 picion, or mystery, to create public distrust ; and, therefore, the 
 best and most unequivocal means of satisfaction shall be always 
 attended to. 
 
 “ Five o'clock, P, M, 
 
 “ So far I had proceeded when I was, on some business of 
 importance, obliged to break off till now ; and, on my return, 
 found your letter ; — I need not, I hope, say your confidence is as 
 safe as if it was returned 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 maturely. 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 mind, 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 : 
 ^the‘=ie are their own worrjs. which is ?J1 that can be implied in 
 
60 
 
 MEMOIKS OF THE LIFE OF THE 
 
 an absolute declaration, — for infallibility 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 ; particularly as it might call for a public account every day 
 1 think the Chancellor 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 gras'p at power might be fatal to his interest, 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 op- 
 portunity to break with his colleagues,” the writer alludes to a 
 negotiation which Sheridan had entered into with Lord Thurlow, 
 and by which it was expected that the co-operation of that Learned 
 Lord might be secured, in consideration of his being allowed to 
 retain the office of Chancellor under the Kegency. 
 
 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 peculiarity 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 nego- 
 tiation 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 announce- 
 ment of the King’s illness,) found considerable progress already 
 made in the preliminaries of this heterogeneous 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 ; — 
 
RIGHT HOIST. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 61 
 
 “ My dear Sheridan, 
 
 “ 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 his 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 this interview, or I would 
 set off immediately. Due deference is had to our 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 made an ef- 
 fort 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 astonished. The Physicians 
 wish him to be removed to Kew ; on which we shall proceed as 
 we settled. Have you heard any thing of the Foreign Ministers 
 respecting what the P. said at Bagshotl 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 dis- 
 posed 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 vigor 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. I have had correspondence enough myself on this 
 subject to convince me of the impossibility of the Ministry ma- 
 naging 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 y Monday y 5 dclocky 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 
 
62 
 
 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 
 
 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 occasion, 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. What is to be done next 1 Should the Prince 
 himself, you, or I, or Warren, 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 to be lost. Pray 
 tell me what is to be done : I am convinced, after all, the nego- 
 tiation will not succeed, and am not sure that I am sorry for it. 
 I do not remember ever feeling so uneasy about any political 
 thing I ever did in my life. Call if you can. 
 
 “ Yours ever, 
 
 “ Sat past 12. C. J. F.” 
 
 Lord Loughborough, in the mean time, with a vigilance quick- 
 ened 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 dis- 
 trust : — 
 
 “My dear S. 
 
 “ I was afraid to pursue the conversation on the circumstance 
 of the Inspection committed to the Chancellor, lest the reflec- 
 tions that arise upon it might have made too strong an impres- 
 sion on some of our neighbors last night. It does indeed appear 
 to me full of mischief, and of that sort most likely to affect the 
 
HIGHT RiOHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 6S 
 
 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 gaiiie. His conversations, both with you and Mr. Fox, 
 were encouraging, but at the same time checked all explanations 
 on his part under a pretence of delicacy towards his colleagues. 
 When he let them go to Sal thill and contrived to dine at Wind- 
 sor, he certainly took a step that most men would have felt not 
 very delicate in its appearance, and unless there was some pri- 
 vate understanding between him and them, not altogether fair ; 
 especially if you add to it the sort of conversation he held with 
 regard to them. I 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 con- 
 scious 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 I am sure, it is 
 not in his character to feel any. With a little instruction from 
 Lord Hawksbury, the sort of management that \vas 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, take 
 any situation that preserves his access, and enables him to hold 
 a line between different parties. In the present moment, how- 
 ever, 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, <kc.’^ 
 
 •*= The remainder of this sentence is effaced by damp 
 
64 
 
 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 
 
 What were the motives that induced Lord Thurlow to break 
 off so suddenly his negotiation with the Prince’s party, and de- 
 clare himself with such vehemence on the side of the King and 
 Mr. Pitt, it does not appear very easy to ascertain. Possibly, 
 from his opportunities of visiting the Royal Patient, he had been 
 led to conceive sufficient hopes of recovery, to incline the bal- 
 ance of his speculation that way ; or, perhaps, in the influence 
 of Lord Loughborough‘S over Mr. Fox, he saw a rLk 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 de- 
 livery of that speech, from whose enthusiasm the public could 
 little suspect how fresh from the incomplete bargain of defection 
 was the speaker, and in the course of which he gave vent to the 
 well-known declaration, that ‘‘ his debt of gratitude to His Ma- 
 jesty was ample, for the many favors he had graciously con- 
 fcxTed upon him, which, when he forgot, might God forget 
 him!”f 
 
 As it is not my desire to imitate those biographers, who swell 
 their pages with details that belong more properly to History, I 
 shall forbear to enter into a minute or consecutive narrative of 
 the proceedings 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 neighborhood under contribution for the 
 supply and enrichment of his work. But, to turn into it the 
 whole contents of the Annual Register and Parliamentary De- 
 bates 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 attempted by any one, whose am- 
 bition, 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 lat- 
 
 * TiOrd Loughborough is supposed to have been the person who instilled into the mind 
 oi Mr. Fox the idea of advancing that claim of right for the Prince, which gave Mr. Pitt, 
 m principle as well as in fact, such an advantage over him. 
 
 f “Forget you 1” said Wilkes, “ he’ll sec you d — d first.” 
 
felGHT HON. BICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 65 
 
 ter recommended in that suspension of the Royal authority, but 
 a^so with respect to the abstract constitutional principles, upon 
 which those proceedings of the Minister w^ere professedly founded. 
 As soon as the nature of the malady, with which the King was 
 afflicted, had been ascertained by a regular examination of the 
 physicians in attendance on His Majesty, Mr. Pitt moved (on 
 the 10th of December), that a ‘‘ Committee be appointed to ex- 
 amine and report precedents of such proceedings as may have 
 been had, in case of the personal exercise of the Royal authorit}^ 
 being prevented or interrupted, by infancy, sickness, infirmity, oi 
 otherwise, with a view to provide for the same.”^ 
 
 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 asserted that there existed no precedent whatever that 
 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 else- 
 where. There was then a person in the kingdom, different from 
 any other person that any existing precedents could refer to, — 
 an Heir Apparent, of full age and capacity to exercise the royal 
 power. It behoved them, therefore, to waste not a moment un- 
 necessarily, 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 precious, of 
 the spirit of the Constitution, from every reasoning and analogy 
 
 * Mr. Burke and Mr. Sheridan were both members of this committee, and the follow 
 ing letter from the former to Sheridan refers to it : — 
 
 “ ilY DEAR Sir, 
 
 “ My idea was, that on Fox’s declaring that the precedents, neither individually nor 
 collectively, do at all apply, our attendance ought to have been merely formal. But as 
 you think otherwise, I shall certainly be at the committee soon after one. I rather think, 
 that they will n It attempt to garble: because, supposing the precedents to apply, the 
 major part are certainly in their favor. It is not likely that they mean to suppress, — bul 
 it is good to be on our guard . 
 
 “ Ever most truly yours, &c. 
 
 “ Edmund Burkb.’^ 
 
 “ Ge? ard Street, Thursday Morning 
 
66 
 
 Memoirs of I'Mf life of the 
 
 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 con- 
 dition of His Majesty, His Royal Highness the Prince of Wales 
 had as clear, as express a Right to exercise the power of Sove- 
 reignty, during the continuance of the illness and incapacity, 
 with which it had pleased God to afflict His Majesty, 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 hurry- 
 ing ; and scarcely had the sentence, just quoted, been concluded, 
 when, slapping his thigh triumphantly, he turned to the person 
 who sat next to him, and said, “ I’ll un- Whig the gentleman for 
 the rest of his life !” 
 
 Even without this anecdote, which may be depended upon as 
 authentic, we have sufficient evidence that 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 
 temerity, upon the directly opposite doctrine, and assertmg, not 
 only that “ in the case of the interruption of the personal exer- 
 cise of the Royal Authority, it devolved upon the other branches 
 of the Legislature to provide a substitute for that authority,” 
 but that “ the Prince of W ales had no more right to exercise the 
 powers of government than any other person in the realm.” 
 
 The truth is, the assertion of a Right was equally erroneous, 
 on both sides of the question. The Constitution having pro- 
 vided no legal remedy for such an exigence as had now occurred, 
 the two Houses of Parliament had as little right (in the strict 
 sense of the word) to supply the deficiency of the Royal power, 
 as the Piince had to be the person elected or adjudged for that 
 purpose. Constitutional analogy and expediency were the only 
 authorities by which the measures necessary in such a conjunc- 
 ture could be either guided or sanctioned ; and if the disputants 
 on each side had softened down their tone to this true and prac- 
 tical view of the case, there would have been no material differ- 
 
lUGHT HON. RICHARD BRlNSLEY SHERIDAN. 
 
 67 
 
 euce, ill the first stage of the proceedings between them, — Mr. 
 Pitt being ready to allow that the Heir Apparent was the ob- 
 vious person to whom expediency pointed as the depository of 
 the Royal 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 Royal Highness 
 could not assume that right till it had been formally adjudicated 
 to him by Parliament. The principle, however, having been 
 imprudently 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 protraction of the discussions, but of occupying vic- 
 toriously the ground of Whiggism, which Mr. Fox had, in his 
 impatience or precipitancy, 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 
 assertor 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, which pervaded the whole of his reasonings on the 
 subject. In his anxiety to prove the omnipotence of Parliament, 
 he evidently confounded the Estates of the realm with the Legis- 
 lature,* and attributed to two branches of the latter such powers as 
 are only legally possessed by the whole three in Parliament as- 
 sembled. For the purpose, too, of flattering 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 requir 
 ing 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 
 their power, were fully competent, as in the instance of the Re- 
 volution, to remedy. f 
 
 * Mr. Grattan and the Irish Parliament carried this error still farther, and founded all 
 their proceedings on the necessity of “ providing for the deficiency of the Third Estate.^' 
 
 * The most luminous view that has been taken of this Question is to be found in au Ar 
 
68 
 
 MEMOIES 0^' THE LIFE OF ThE 
 
 Indeed, the solemn use of such language as Mr. Pitt, in his 
 over-acted Whiggism, employed upon this occasion, — namely, 
 that the “ right ” of appointing a substitute for the Royal power 
 was “ to be found in the 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 the language of 
 that last resource to the present emergency was to brandish the 
 sword of Goliath"^ on an occasion that by no means called for it. 
 
 The question of the Prince’s claim, — in spite of the efforts 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 favor. During one of the long 
 debates to which the question gave rise, Mr. Sheridan allowed 
 himself to be betrayed into some expressions, which, considering 
 the delicate predicament in which the 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 High- 
 ness, and deprecating any further agitation of it, he “ reminded 
 the Right Honorable Gentleman (Mr. Pitt) of the danger of 
 provoking that claim to be asserted [a loud cry of hear ! hear !], 
 which, he observed, had not yet bean preferred. [Another cry 
 of hear ! hear !]” This was the very language that Mr. Pitt 
 most wished his adversaries to assume, and, accordingly, he 
 turned it to account with all his usual mastery and haughtiness. 
 “ He had now,” 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 indecent menace thrown out to awe and influence their pro- 
 
 . tide of the Edinburgh Review, on the Regency of 1811, — written by one of the most 
 learned and able men of our day, Mr. John Allen. 
 
 * A simile applied by Lord Somers to the pow'^er of Impeachment, which, he said, 
 “ should be like Goliatli’s sword, kept in the temple, and not used but upon great occa 
 Bions.” 
 
RIGHT HON. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 69 
 
 ceedings. In the discussion of the question, the House, he trusted, 
 would do their duty, in spite of any threat that might be thrown 
 out. Men, who felt their native freedom, would not submit to a 
 threat, however high the authority from which it might come.”^ 
 The restrictions of the Prerogative with which Mr. Pitt 
 thought proper to encumber the transfer of the Koyal power to 
 the Prince, formed the second great point of discussion betw’eeii 
 the parties, and brought equally adverse principles into play. 
 Mr. Fox, still maintaining his position on the side of Eoyalty, 
 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 J ames 
 II., put those principles deliberately upon record, as a funda- 
 mental article in the creed of his party. The passage to which 
 I allude occurs in his remarks upon the Exclusion Bill ; and as it 
 contains, in a condensed form, the spirit of what he urged on the 
 same point in 1789, 1 cannot do better than lay his own words 
 before the reader. After expressing his opinion that, at the pe- 
 riod of which he writes, the measure of exclusion from the 
 monarchy altogether would have been preferable to any limit- 
 ation 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 admit, naturally think it their duty rather to 
 change the manager of the trust than impair the subject of it ; 
 while others, wFo consider them as the 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 ought, according to the Whigs, to be 
 reduced to such powers as are in their exercise beneficial to the 
 people ; and of the benefit of these they will not rashly suffer 
 
 ♦ Impartial Report of all the Proceedings on the Subject of the Regency, 
 
70 
 
 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 
 
 the people to be deprived, whether the executive power be in 
 the hands of an hereditary or of an elective King, of a Kegent, 
 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 either to the exten- 
 sion or the suspension of its exercise, as the occasional interests 
 of the Prince may seem to require.” 
 
 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 favorable to liberty, and however the Tory may, with equal sin- 
 cerity, believe his suspension of the Prerogative on these occasions 
 to be advantageous to the Crown, yet that in both of the princi- 
 ples, so defined, there is an evident tendency to produce effects, 
 wholly different from those which the parties professing them con- 
 template. 
 
 On the one side, to sanction from authority the notion, that 
 there are some powers of the Crown which may be safely dis- 
 pensed with, — to accustom the people to an abridged exercise of 
 the Prerogative, 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, exposes 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 deprecates, and the branches of the Preroga- 
 tive, 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 Pre- 
 rogative ought to be reduced to such powers as are beneficial to 
 
BIGHT HON. mCHAKD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 71 
 
 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 control some 
 of its established prerogatives. But, w^here are we to find a fit 
 moment for such a reform, — or what opening will be left for it 
 by this fastidious Whig principle, which, in 1680, could see no 
 middle step between a change of the Succession and an undimin- 
 ished maintenance 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 experimental reduction of it ! 
 
 According to Mr. Fox, it is a distinctive characteristic of the 
 Tory, to attach more importance to the person of the King than 
 to his office. But, assuredly, the Tory is not singular in this want 
 of political abstraction ; and, in England, (from a defect, Hume 
 thinks, inherent in all limited monarchies,) the personal qualities 
 and opinions of the Sovereign have considerable influence upon 
 the whole course of public affairs, — being felt alike in that court- 
 ly 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 abstraction can deprive the person of the monarch, the 
 Whig principle in question (which seems to consider entireness of 
 Prerogative as necessary to a King, as the entireness ofhis limbs was 
 held to be among the Athenians,) 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 doctrine would leave open, of counteracting the effects 
 of the King’s indirect personal influence, by curtailing or weaken- 
 ing the grasp of some of his direct regal powers. Ovid repre- 
 sents the Deity of Light (and on an occasion, too, which may be 
 called a Regency question) as crov/ned with movable rays, which 
 might be put off when too strong or dazzling. But, according to 
 
n 
 
 MEMOIES OF THE LIFE OF THE 
 
 this principle, the crown of Prerogative must keep its rays fixed 
 and immovable, and (as the poet expresses it) “ circa caput omnb 
 micantesP 
 
 Upon the whole, however high the authorities, by which this 
 Whig doctrine was enforced in 1789, its manifest tendency, in 
 most cases, to secure a perpetuity of superfluous powers to the 
 Crown, appears to render it unfit, at least as an invariable prin- 
 ciple, 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. Pitt, was made to express the un- 
 willingness 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 to go in supposing a case, where 
 the enormous patronage vested in the Crown, and the consequent 
 increase of a Royal bias through the community, might give such 
 an undue and unsafe preponderance to that branch of the Legis- 
 lature, as would render any safe opportunity, however acquired, of 
 ascertaining with how much less power the executive government 
 could be carried on, most acceptable, in spite 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 sides of this constitutional question, it is 
 mortifying, after all, to be obliged to acknowledge, that, in the 
 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 
 surrender the possession of power to his rival, had a very intel- 
 ligible 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 w'eak Government 
 and strong Opposition, w^ould, of course, eagerly welcome the 
 aid of any abstract principle, that might sanction him in resisting 
 
EIGHT HON. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 73 
 
 sucn a mutilation of the Royal power ; — well knowing that (as in 
 the case of the Peerage Bill in the reign of George I.) the pro- 
 ceedings altogether were actuated more by ill-will to the succes* 
 sor in the trust, than 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 w^ould have 
 been so likewise. Mr. Pitt, with the prospect of power before 
 his eyes, would have been still more strenuous, perhaps, for the 
 unbroken 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 suc- 
 cessful administration, and obliged to surrender up the reins of 
 the state to Tory guidance, might have found in his popular prin- 
 ciples a still more plausible pretext, for the abridgment of power 
 in such unconstitutional hands. He might even too, perhaps, (as 
 his India Bill w^arrants 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 stronghold of Whiggism, 
 to facilitate the resumption of his position, whenever an opportu- 
 nity might present itself. Such is human nature, even in its 
 noblest specimens, and so are the strongest spirits shaped by the 
 mould in which chance and circumstances have placed them. 
 
 Mr. Sheridan spoke frequently in the Debates on this question, 
 but his most important agency lay in the less public business 
 connected with it. He was the confidential adviser of the Prince 
 throughout, 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 prin- 
 cipally the production of Mr. Sheridan. For the supposition 
 that it was written by Burke there are, besides the merits of the 
 production, but very scanty grounds. So little was he at that 
 period in those habits of confidence with the Prince, which would 
 
 VOL. u. 4 
 
74 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF I HE 
 
 entitle him to be selected for 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 Commons, that “ he knew as 
 little of the inside of Carlton House as he did of Buckingham 
 House.” Indeed, the violent state of this extraordinary 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 favor 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. Sheridan, 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. 
 
 I 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. Sheridan.* 
 
 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 
 conjectures — when, having still some doubts of my correctness 
 in attributing the honor of the composition to Sheridan, I resolved 
 to ask the opinion of my friend. Sir James Mackintosh, a person 
 
 * To lliis 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 ad- 
 mirable CQmposition.’’ 
 
RIGHT HON. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 
 
 75 
 
 above all others qualified, by relationship of talent, to recognize 
 and hold parley with the mighty spirit of Burke, in whatever 
 shape the “ Royal Dane ” may appear. The strong impression 
 on his mind — amounting almost to certainty — was that no other 
 hand but that of Burke could have written the greater part of 
 the letter and by a more diligent inquiry, in which his kind- 
 ness 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, con- 
 firms beyond a doubt the fact, that it was written almost solely 
 by Burke : — 
 
 January 31s^, 1789. 
 
 There was not a word of the Princess letter to Pitt mine. It was origi- 
 nally Barkers, altered a little, but not improved, by Sheridan and other 
 critics. The answer made by the Prince yesterday to the Address oT the 
 two Houses was entirely mine, and done in a great hurry half an hour be- 
 fore 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 that 
 triumph of mind over temper which it exhibits — that forgetful- 
 ness of Self^ the true, transmigrating power of genius, which 
 enabled him thus to pass his spirit into the station of Royalty, 
 and to assume 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 
 
 * It is amusing to observe how tastes differ the following is the opinion entertained 
 of this letter by a gentleman, who, I understand, and can easily believe, is an old estab- 
 lished Reviewer. After mentioning that it was attributed to the pen of Burke, he adds, 
 — “ The story, 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 vigor into the composition, and the correctness of whose judg- 
 ment would as certaimy have preserved it from the charge of inelegance and grammati- 
 cal deficiency.”— Dr. WATiaNS, Life (f Sheridan. 
 
 Such, in nine cases out of ten, are the periodical guides of public taste. 
 
76 
 
 MEMOIKS OF THE LJFE OF THE 
 
 who were in the secret of his ambidextrous policy, and who 
 knew both his disposition to desert, and the nature of the motives 
 that prevented him. To Sheridan, in particular, such a result of 
 a negotiation, 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 ; and this vanity it was that, at a later 
 period of his life, sometimes 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. 
 
 In the debate on that clause of the Bill, which restricted the 
 Regent 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 bluff- 
 ness.” 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 m almost all other instances, misrepresented 
 him. 
 
 With equal personality, but more playfulness, Mr. Burke, in 
 exposing that wretched 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 ? It 
 was intended, 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 pei*- 
 
RIGHT Ron. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 7f 
 
 haps 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 mur- 
 muring streams of Aganippe.” 
 
 While Lord Thurlow was thus treated by the party whom he 
 had so nearly joined, he was but coldly welcomed back by the 
 Minister whom he had so nearly deserted. His reconciliation, too, 
 with the latter was by no means either sincere or durable, — the re- 
 newal of friendship between politicians, on such occasions, being 
 generally like that which the 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 Eegency, 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 
 to themselves and the country. By the difference just mentioned, 
 between Mr. Pitt and Lord Thurlow, the ministerial arrange- 
 ments of 1793 were facilitated, and the learned Lord, after all his 
 sturdy pliancy, consigned to a life of ineffectual discontent ever 
 after. 
 
 The disagreement between Mr. Burke and Mr. Fox, if not ac- 
 tually origina\ing now — and its foundation had been, perhaps, 
 laid from the beginning, in the total dissimilarity of their dispo- 
 sitions and ^sentiments — was, at least, considerably ripened and 
 accelerated 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 wFicti 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 
 
78 
 
 MEMOIBS OF THE LIFE OF THE 
 
 had disgraced the contest. 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 ca- 
 lamitous 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 politics, of frustrated ambition 
 and unrewarded talents, had at length exasperated his mind to a 
 degree beyond endurance ; and the extravagances into which he 
 was hurried in his speeches on this question, 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 opportunity of ex- 
 ploding. 
 
 That Mr. Burke, upon far less grounds, was equally discon- 
 tented 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 he ends with- 
 out 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, I think, may be in part the cause 
 of the inactivity of others of our friends who are in the vigor of life and 
 in possession of a great degree of lead and authority. I do not blame 
 them, though I lament that state of the public mind, in which the people 
 can consider the exclusion of such talents and such virtues from their ser- 
 vice, as a point gained to them. The only point in which I can find any 
 thing to blame in these friends, is their not taking the eflectual means, 
 which they certainly had in their power, of making an honorable retreat 
 from thmr prospect of power into the possession of reputation, by an ef- 
 fectual defence of themselves. There was an opportunity which was not 
 made use of for that purpose, and which could scarcely have failed of turn- 
 ing the tables on their adversaries.” 
 
 Another instance of the embittering influence of these transac- 
 
mGHT HOIST. HiCHARi) BRINSLEY SHERlDAN. 79 
 
 tioRs may be traced in their effects upon Mr. Burke and Mr. 
 Sheridan — between whom there had arisen a degree of emula- 
 tion, amounting to jealousy, which, though hitherto chiefly con- 
 fined to one of the parties, received on this occasion such an 
 addition of fuel, as spread it 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 elevat- 
 ed above their original station, it was but natural that some such 
 feeling should kindle between 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 
 Hastings’s Trial, the privileges enjoyed by Burke, as a Privy- 
 councillor, were regarded with evident uneasiness by his brother 
 Manager, who could not as yet boast the distinction of Right 
 Honorable before his name. As soon, however, as the rapid run 
 of Sheridan’s success had enabled him to overtake his veteran 
 rival, this feeling of jealousy took possession in full force of the 
 latter,— and the close relations of intimacy and confidence, to 
 which Sheridan was now admitted both by Mr. Pox 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 wdth the party altogether, and to show his gigantic strength 
 at parting, by carrying away some of the strongest pillars of 
 Whiggism 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 — e^^iibiting 
 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 1 have already said, he 
 was sometimes induced by his love of the diplomacy of politics 
 to practise. 
 
§0 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 
 
 Among the appointments named in contemplation of a Regen- 
 cy, the place of Treasurer of the Navy was allotted to Mr. She- 
 ridan. He would never, however, admit the idea of certainty in 
 any of the arrangements so sanguinely calculated upon, but 
 continually impressed upon his impatient friends the possibility, 
 if not probability, of the King’s recovery. He had even refused 
 to look at the plan of the apartments, which he himself was to 
 occupy in Somerset House ; and had but just agreed that it 
 should be sent to him for examination, on the very day when the 
 King was declared convalescent by 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 ad- 
 ministration, was to have been immediately brought into Parlia- 
 ment, — 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 cheerfully, 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 
 occasion, would have been productive of anomalies, both theoreti- 
 cal and practical, had the continued illness of the King allowed 
 the projected Regency to take place. As it was, the most 
 material consequence that ensued was the dismissal from their 
 official situations of Mr. Ponsonby and other powerful individu- 
 als, by which the Whig party received such an accession of 
 strength, as enabled them to work out for their country the few 
 blessings of liberty that still remain to her. Among the victims 
 to their votes on this question was Mr. Charles Sheridan, who, 
 on the recovery of the King, was dismissed from his office of Sec- 
 retary of War, but received compensation by a pension of 1200Z. 
 a year, with the reversion of 300Z. a year to his wife. 
 
 The ready and ardent burst of devotion with which Ireland, at 
 
KiaHT HON. ElCHARD'BRlKSLEY SHERIDAN. 81 
 
 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.^ 
 
 It has already been mentioned that to Mr. Sheridan, at this 
 period, was entrusted the task of drawing up several of the State 
 Papers of the Heir- Apparent. From the rough copies of these 
 
 papers that have fallen into 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 Resolution of the two Houses placing the 
 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 
 and appointment of the King^s household, and thereby to separate from 
 the diflScult and arduous situation w'hich 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 and affection towards Your 
 Majesty, to entreat your attentive perusal of the papers which I have the 
 honor to enclose. They contain a sketch of the plan now proposed 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 Majes- 
 ty's hands, confiding that, whenever it shall please Providence 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 time may elapse before he is in possession of the true matives 
 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 persuasion I have, that my conduct in endea- 
 voring to maintain unimpaired and undivided the just rights, preroga- 
 tives, 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 apprO' 
 bation, or enable me to stand with confidence in his Royal presence on the 
 
 * This vain hope was expressed befoie 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. 
 
82 
 
 MEMOIES OF THE LIFE OF THE 
 
 nappy day of his recovery ; — and, on the contrary, that those who, under 
 color of respect and attachment to his Koyal person, have contrived this 
 project for enfeebling and degrading the executive authority of the realm, 
 will be 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 
 pretences, 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^ affection I owe to Your 
 Majesty have never suffered me for a single moment to consider you as 
 countenancing, 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 calami- 
 ty ; 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 influ- 
 ence of your respected name shall be profaned to the purpose of distress^ 
 ing the government 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 
 assumed the shape of a Resolution of Parliament, and therefore I am 
 silent. 
 
 “ Your Majesty will do me the honor 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 
 affection and inviolable duty,” &c. &c. 
 
 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 sub- 
 mit 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 proceedings consequent upon His Majesty’s indispo- 
 sition. 
 
 * In speaking of the extraordinary imperium in imperio, with which the command of 
 80 much power and patronage would have invested the Queen, the Annual Register 
 (Robinson’s) remarks justly, “It was not the least extraordinary circumstance in these 
 transactions, that the Queen 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 absorbel by domestic calamity, have established 
 her at the head of a political party.” 
 
RIGHT HON. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 83 
 
 “ Sin, 
 
 Thinking it probable that I should have been honored with your com- 
 mands to attend Your Majesty on Wednesday last, I have unfortunately 
 lost the opportunity of paying my duty to Your Majesty before your de- 
 parture from Weymouth. The accounts I have received of Your Majesty’s 
 health have given me the greatest satisfaction, and should it be Your Ma- 
 jesty’s intention to return to Weymouth, I trust, Sir, there will be no im- 
 propriety in my then entreating Your Majesty’s gracious attention to a point 
 of the greatest moment to the peace of my own mind, and one in which I 
 am convinced Your Majesty’s feelings are equally interested. Your Ma- 
 jesty’s letter to my brother the Duke of Clarence, in May last, was the first 
 dh’ect intimation I had ever received that my conduct and that of my bro- 
 ther 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 eftect produced on Your Majesty’s mind ; though at the 
 same time I felt the firmest persuasion 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 
 discussions upon Your Majesty’s attention, during an excursion devoted to 
 the ease and amusement necessary for the re-establishment of Your Majesty’s 
 health. I determined to sacrifice my own feelings, and to wait with resig- 
 nation 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 mean- 
 est individual of your subjects. In this painful interval I have employed my- 
 self 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 these shall be humbly submitted to Your Majesty’s considera- 
 tion, I may be possibly found to have erred in judgment, and to have acted 
 on mistaken principles, but I have the most assured conviction that I shall 
 not be found to have been deficient in that duteous affection to Your Ma- 
 jesty 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 appearances of a less 
 gracious disposition -in the Queen, towards my brothers and myself, than 
 we were accustomed to experience ; and to assure Your Majesty that if 
 
84 
 
 memoiks of the life of the 
 
 by your aflfectionate interposition these most unpleasant sensations snould 
 be happily removed, it would be an event not less grateful to our minds 
 than satisfactory to Your Majesty’s own benign disposition. I will not long- 
 er, &c. &c. 
 
 G. P.” 
 
 The Statement here announced by His Royal Highness (a copy 
 of which I have seen, pccupying, with its Appendix, near a hun- 
 dred 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 pre- 
 sented this year to Mr. Sheridan, by a literary gentleman whom 
 the Whig party thought it worth while to employ in their ser- 
 vice, and who, as far as industry went, appears to have been not un- 
 worthy 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, Fitzroy-street^ Fitzroy- Chapel, 
 
 May, 1787, Dr. Parr, in the name of his political friends, engaged 
 Dr. T. to embrace those opportunities, which his connections with booksel- 
 lers and periodical publications might afford him, of supporting the prin- 
 ciples of their party. Mr. Sheridan in August, 1787, gave two notes, 50Z. 
 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. Sheridan, in different conversations 
 encouraged Dr. T. to go on with the expectation of a like sum yearly, or 
 50Z. half yeaidy. Dr. T. with this encouragement engaged in different pub- 
 lications for the purpose of this agreement. He is charged for the most 
 part with the Political and Historical articles in the Analytic Review, and 
 he also occasionally writes the Political Appendix to the English Review, 
 of which particularly 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, and a Political Review every month for a Sunday paper en- 
 titled the Review and Sunday Advertiser. In a Romance, entitled ‘ Mam- 
 
 * This industrious Scotchman (of whose name I have only given the initials) was not 
 without some share of humor. On hearing that a certain modern philosopher had carried 
 his belief in the perfectibility of all living things so far, as 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 wifii twa of his pupils 
 
BIGHT HON. KICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 85 
 
 moth, or Human Nature Displayed, &c.,’ 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 uncommon char- 
 ges have happened in the course of this last year, that is, the year prece- 
 ding May, 1789. Instead of 100^., therefore, he will bo satisfied with 50/. 
 for that year, provided that this abatement shall not form a precedent 
 against his claim of 100/. annually, if his further services shall be deemed 
 acceptable. There is one point on which Dr. T. particularly reserved him- 
 self, namely, to make no 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, 21st July, 1789.’’ 
 
 Taking into account all the various circumstances that con- 
 curred to glorify this period of Sheridan’s life, we may allow our- 
 selves, 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 splendor 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 Appa- 
 rent, 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 Regency, with a judgment and delicacy that proved him 
 worthy of it, — all these advantages, both brilliant and solid, 
 which subsequent circumstances but too much tended to weaken, 
 at this moment surrounded 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 sci- 
 ence, unassisted by the advantages of birth, may lead to associa- 
 
86 
 
 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 
 
 tion with the great, but rarely to equality it is a passport 
 through the well-guarded frontier, but no title to naturalization 
 within. By hiin, 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 storm, a station 
 at their side, which a Shakspeare or a Newton would but hav;- 
 enjoyed by courtesy. 
 
 In fixing upon this period of Sheridan’s life, as the most shin- 
 ing sera of his talents as well as his fame, it is not meant to be 
 denied that in his subsequent warfare with the Minister, during 
 the stormy time of the French Revolution, he exhibited a prow- 
 ess of oratory no less suited to that actual service, than his elo- 
 quence on the trial of Hastings had been to such lighter tilts and 
 tournaments of peace. But the effect of his talents was far less 
 striking ; — the 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 the panic, top, 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. 
 TFough pecuniary embarrassment, as appears from his papers, 
 had already begun to w^eave its fatal net around him, there was 
 as yet little more than sufficed to give exercise to his ingenuit}!^, 
 and the resources of the Drury-Lane treasury were still in full 
 nightly flow. 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 brilliancy of his life and attractions, and in those triumphs 
 out of the sphere of domestic love, to which his vanity, perhaps, 
 oflener than his feelings, impelled him. 
 
KIGKT HON. EICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 87 
 
 Among his own immediate associates, the gaiety of his spirits 
 amounted almost to boyishness. He delighted in all sorts of 
 dramatic tricks and disguises ; and the lively parties, with which 
 his country-house was always filled, were kept in momentary ex- 
 pectation of some new device for their mystification or amuse- 
 ment.* It was not unusual to dispatch 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 Eichardson, both 
 men of wit and humor, and the former possessing the same 
 degree of light animal spirits as himself, were the constant com- 
 panions 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 Eichardson at Tun- 
 bridge, j- (after waiting five long hours for Sheridan,) so full of 
 that mixture of melancholy and humor, which chequered the 
 mind of this interesting man, that, as illustrative of the character 
 of one of Sheridan’s most intimate friends, it may be inserted 
 here : — 
 
 “ Dear Sheridan, Half-past nine^ Mount Ephraim. 
 
 After you had been gone an hour or two I got moped damnably. Per- 
 haps 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 speculations 
 on things to come into any fatiguing sketch of reflection.— From your win- 
 
 * To giv-e some idea of the youthful tone of this society, I shall mention one out of many 
 anecdotes related to me by persons who had themselves been ornaments of it. The la- 
 dies having one evening received the gentlemen in masquerade dresses, which, witJi their 
 obstinate silence, made it impossible to distinguish one from the other, the gentlemen, in 
 their turn, invited the ladies, next evening, to asimilar trial of conjecture on themselves ; 
 and notice being given that they were ready dressed, Mrs. Sheridan and her companions 
 were admitted into the dining room, where they found a party of Turks, sitting silent 
 and masked round the table. After a long course of the usual guesses, exclamations, 
 &c. &c., and each 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 gentle- 
 men 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. 
 
 t In the year 1790, when Mrs. Sheridan was trying 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 once a day, and ride and drive all the forenoon, which makes mo 
 ravenous when I return. I feel I am in very good health, and I am told that I am in high 
 heauty, two circumstances which ought and do put me in high good humor.” 
 
88 
 
 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 
 
 (low, however, there was a tedious scope of black atmosphere, that I think 
 won my mind into a sort 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 light to gild my horizon ; — only the fading helps to transient 
 gaiety in the lamps of Tunbridge ; — no Law coffee-house at hand, or any 
 other house of relief ; — no antagonist to bicker one into a control of one’s 
 cares by a successful opposition,* nor a softer enemy to soothe one into an 
 oblivion of them. 
 
 ‘‘ It is damned foolish for ladies to leave their scissors about ; — the frail 
 thread of a worthless life is soon snipped. I wish to God my fate 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-humored man, civil at 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 
 faith of history compels us to subjoin, fell out not unfrequently. 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 neighborhood 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 ne- 
 gations of their life, and to allow them in their future state, what he or- 
 
 * Richardson, was remarkable for his love of disputation ; and Tickell, when hard pressed 
 by him in argument, used often, as a last resource, to assume the voice and manner ol 
 Mr. Fox, which he had the power of mimicking so exactly, that Richardson confessed 
 he sometimes stood awed and silenced by the resemblance. 
 
 This disputatious humor of Richardson was once turned to account by Sheridan in a 
 very characteristic manner. Having had a hackney-coach in employ for five or six 
 hours, and not being provided with the means of paying it, he happened to espy Richard- 
 son in the street, and proposed to take him in the coach some part of his way. Tlie offer 
 being accepted, Sheridan lost no time in starting a subject of conversation, on which he 
 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,” pulled the check-string, 
 and desired the coachman to let him out. Richardson, wholly occupied with the argu- 
 ment, and regarding the retreat of liis opponent as an acknowledgment of defeat, still 
 pressed his point, and even hollowed “ more last words” through the coach-window after 
 Sheridan, who, walking quietly horne, left the poor disputant responsible for the hea\y 
 f^ire of the concb. 
 
RIGHT HON. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 89 
 
 daiued them in this earthly pilgrimage, a snug neutrality and a useless re- 
 pose. — I had written 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, immergedin the heap in my waist- 
 coat 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, un- 
 der the protection of Providence, and the mercy of footpads, I trust we 
 shall meet again to-morrow ; at all events, there is nothing huffish in this ; 
 for, whether sad or merry, I am always, 
 
 Most affectionately yours, 
 
 ‘‘J. Richardson. 
 
 P. S. Your return only confirmed me in my resolution of going ; fori 
 had worked myself, in five hours solitude, into such a state of nervous mel- 
 ancholy, 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 conviction of 
 so disreputable an infirmity besides, the night has become quite plea- 
 sant.” 
 
 Between Tick ell and Sheridan there was a never-ending “ skir- 
 mish of wit,” both verbal and practical ; and the latter kind, in 
 particular, was carried on between them with all the waggery, 
 and, not unfrequently, the malice of school-boys.”^ Tickell, much 
 less occupied by business than his friend, had always some poli- 
 tical 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 different dates, though principally by Sheridan, owes 
 some of its stanzas to Tickell, and a few others, I believe, to Lord 
 John Townshend. I have strung together, without regard to 
 
 * On one occasion, Sheridan having covered the floor of a dark passage, leading from 
 the drawing room, with all the plates and dishes of the house, ranged closely together, 
 provoked his unconscious play-fellow to pursue him into the midst of them. Having left 
 a path for his own escape, he passed through easily, but Tickell, railing at full length into 
 me ambuscade, was very much cut in several places. The next day. Lord John Towns- 
 hend, on paying a visit to the bed-side of Tickell, found him covered over with patches, 
 and indignantly vowing vengeance against Sheridan for this unjustifiable trick. In the 
 midst of his anger, however, he could not help exclaiming, with the true feeSng of an 
 amateur of this sort of mischief, “ but how arna?;ingly well done it was I’’ 
 
90 
 
 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 
 
 chronology, the best of these detached lampoons. Time having 
 removed their venom, and 'with it, in a great degree, their wit, 
 they are now, like dried snakes, mere harmless objects of cun« 
 osity. 
 
 “Johnny W — Iks, Johnny W — Iks,* 
 
 Thou greatest of bilks, 
 
 How chang’d are the notes you now sing \ 
 
 Your fam’d Forty-five 
 Is Prerogative, 
 
 And your blasphemy, ‘ God save the Kbg,^ 
 
 Johnny W — 
 
 And your blasphemy, ‘ God save the King.' " 
 
 “ Jack Ch -ch— 11, Jack Ch— ch— 11, 
 
 The town sure you search ill. 
 
 Your mob has disgraced all your brags j 
 When next you draw out 
 Your hospital rout. 
 
 Do, prithee, afibrd them clean rags. 
 
 Jack Ch— ch— 11, 
 
 Do, prithee, afford them clean rags.” 
 
 “ Captain K — th. Captain K — th. 
 
 Keep your tongue ’twdxt 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.” 
 
 “ t doe M— wb — y, Joe M — wb — y. 
 
 Your throat sure must raw be. 
 
 In striving to make yourself heard ; 
 
 But it pleased not the pigs, i 
 
 Nor the Westminster Whigs, 
 
 That your Knighthood should utter one word, 
 
 Joe M — wb — y. 
 
 That your Knighthood should utter one word.” 
 
 * In Sheridan’s copy of the stanzas written by him in this metre at the time of the 
 Union, (beginning “Zooks, Harry! zooks, Harry !” he entitled them, “ An admirable 
 new ballad, wdiich goes excellently well to the tune of 
 “Mrs. Arne, Mrs. Arne, 
 
 It gives me concam,” &c. 
 
 f This stanza and, I rather thudc, the next were by Lord John Townshend. 
 
BIGHT HON. EICHAKD BEINSLEY SHERIDAN, 
 
 M — ntm — res, M — ntm — res, 
 
 Whom nobody for is, 
 
 And for whom we none of us care ; 
 
 From Dublin you came — 
 
 It had much been the same 
 If your Lordship had staid where you were, 
 M — ntm— res, 
 
 If your Lordship had staid where you were.’^ 
 
 “ Lord 0 — gl — y, Lord 0 — gl — y, 
 
 You spoke mighty strongly — 
 
 Who you are, tho’, all people admire ! 
 
 But ITl let you depart, 
 
 For I believe in my heart. 
 
 You had rather they did not inquire. 
 
 Lord 0— gl— y, 
 
 You had rather they did not inqure.^^ 
 
 Gl — nb — e, Gl — nb — e. 
 
 What’s good for the scurvy ? 
 
 For ne’er be your old trade forgot — 
 
 In your arms rather quarter 
 A pestle and mortar. 
 
 And your crest be a spruce gallipot, 
 
 Gl — nb — e, 
 
 And your crest be a spruce gallipot.’^ 
 
 “ Gl — nb — e, Gl — nb — e. 
 
 The world’s topsy-tu^vy. 
 
 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—1, Mr. P—1, 
 
 In return for your zeal, 
 
 I am told they have dubb’d you Sir Bob ; 
 Having got wealth enough 
 By coarse Manchester stuff. 
 
 For honors you’ll now drive a job, 
 
 Mr. P—1, 
 
 For honors you’ll now drive a job.*’ 
 
92 
 
 MEMOIKS OF THE LIFE OF THB 
 
 “ Oh poor B— ks, oh poor B— ks, 
 
 S.till condemned to the ranks, 
 
 Nor e’en yet from a private promoted ; 
 
 Pitt ne’er will relent, 
 
 Though he knows you repent. 
 
 Having once or twice honestly voted, 
 
 Poor B — ks, 
 
 Having once or twice honestly voted.’^ 
 
 Dull H-— 1— y, dull H— 1— y. 
 
 Your audience feel ye 
 A speaker of very great weight. 
 
 And they wish you were dumb. 
 
 When, with ponderous hum. 
 
 You lengthened the drowsy debate. 
 
 Dull H— l~y, 
 
 You lengthened the drowsy debate.” 
 
 There are about as many more of these stanzas, written at 
 different 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 it will be seen by the following specimen 
 that some of them had a very narrow escape : 
 
 <<WillC— rt— s ” 
 
 V — ns — t — t, y — ns — t — t, — for little thou fit art.” 
 
 “ Will D — nd — s. Will D — nd — s, — were you only an ass.” 
 
 ‘‘ L — ghb — ^h, — thorough.” 
 
 “ Sam H — rsl — y, Sam H — rsl — y, coarsely.” 
 
 P — ttym — n- 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 
 
 ♦ As I have been mentioning some instances of Sheridan’s love of practical jests, I 
 shall take ihis 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 country-house. ne?v Ostefley, where, as usual, a gay party was collected, 
 
EIGHT HON. EICHAED BEINSLEY SHEEIDAN. 93 
 
 too much to do with subjects of a far diiferent nature — with debts, 
 bonds, judgments, writs, and all those other humiliating matters 
 of fact, that bring Law and Wit so often and so unnaturally in 
 contact. That they were serviceable to each other, in their de- 
 fensive alliance against duns, is fully proved by various docu- 
 ments ; and I have now before me articles of agreement, dated 
 in 1787, by which Tick ell, to avert an execution from the Theatre, 
 bound himself as security for Sheridan in the sum of 250^., — 
 the arrears of an annuity charged upon Sheridan’s moiety of the 
 property. So soon did those pecuniary difficulties, by which his 
 peace and character were afterwards 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 that he has agreed to continue 
 the day of trial as we call it (that is, in vulgar, unlearned language, to put 
 it olF) from Tuesday till Saturday. He demands, as preliminaries, that 
 Wright’s bill of 500Z. should be given up to him, as a prosecution had been 
 
 (consisting of General Burgoyne, Mrs. Crewe, Tickell, &c.) it was proposed 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 liini, 
 if he would conspnt to preach it ; and, the offer being accepted, Sheridan left the com- 
 pany early, and did not return for the remainder 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 subject of the discourse being the “Abuse of Riches.” Having 
 read it over and corrected some theological errors, (such as “it is easier for a camel, a& 
 Moses say &c.) he delivered the sermon in his most impressive style, much to the de- 
 light of his own party, and to the satisfaction, as he unsuspectingly flattered himself, of 
 all the rest of the congregation, among whom was Mr. Sheridan’s wealthy neighbor Mr. 
 C . 
 
 Some months afterwards, however, Mr. O’B perceived that the family of Mr. 
 
 C , with whom lie had previously been intimate, treated him with marked coldness ; 
 
 and, on his expressing some innocent wonder at the circumstance, was at length informed, 
 to his dismay, by General Burgoyne, that the sermon which Sheridan had written for him 
 
 was, throughout, a personal attack upon Mr. C , who had at that time rendered 
 
 himself very unpopular in the neighborhood by some harsh conduet to the poor, and to 
 whom every one in the church, except the unconscious preacher, applied almost every 
 sentence of the sermon . 
 
94 
 
 MEMOIRS OP THE LIFE OP THE 
 
 commenced against him, which, however, he has stopped by an injunction 
 from the Court of Chancery. This, if the transaction he as he states it, ap 
 pears reasonable enough. He insists, besides, that the bill should undergo 
 the most rigid examination ; that you should transmit your objections, to 
 which he will send answers, (for the point of a personal interview has not 
 been yet carried,) and that the whole amount at last, whatever it may be, 
 should have your clear and satisfied approbation : — nothing to be done with 
 out this — almighty honor ! 
 
 ‘‘ All these things being done, I desired to know what was to be the re- 
 sult at last : — ‘ Surely, after having carried so many points, you will think 
 it only common decency to relax a little as to the time of payment ? You 
 will not cut your pound of fiesh the nearest from the merchant’s heart?’ 
 To this Bobides, ‘ I must have 2000Z. put in a shape of practicable use, and 
 payment immediately ; — for the rest I will accept security.’ This was 
 strongly objected to by 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 favorable adjust- 
 ment, and time and trist may do much. I am to see him again on Monday 
 morning at two, so pray don’t go out of town to-morrow 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 infii’mities green upon your head ; 
 so pray attend to it. 
 
 “ R. B. Sheridan, Esq. “ Yops ever, 
 
 “ Lower Grosvenor-Street. “ J. Richardson.” 
 
 This letter was written in the year 1792, when Sheridan’s in- 
 volvements had begun to thicken around him more rapidly. 
 There is another letter, about the same date, still more charac 
 teristic, — where, after beginning in evident anger and distress of 
 mind, the writer breaks off, as if irresistibly, into the old strain ol 
 playfulness and good humor. 
 
 Dear Sheridan, Wednesday, Essex-Street, July 30. 
 
 “ I write to you with more unpleasant feelings than I ever did in my lil. 
 Westly, after having told me for the last three weeks that nothing 
 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 200Z. I can’t suffer my family to be turn- 
 ed into the streets if I 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 caii have no higher hop® 
 
iUGIlT HON. -RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 95 
 
 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 misfor 
 tune. 
 
 “ For the sake of convenience you will probably give me the importance 
 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 in- 
 terpret it. If I don’t hear from you before Friday, I shall conclude that 
 you leave me in this dire scrape io shift for myself. 
 
 “ R. B. Bheridan^ Esq. Yours ever, 
 
 Tdeworth, Middlesex, “ J. Richardson/^ 
 
9 ^ 
 
 MEMOIIIS OF THE LIFE OF THE 
 
 OHAPTEE IV. 
 
 FUENCH KEVOLUTION. — MR. BURKE. — HIS BREACH WITH 
 MR. SHERIDAN. — DISSOLUTION OF PARLIAMENT. — MR. 
 BURKE AND MR. FOX. — RUSSIAN ARMAMENT. — ROYAL 
 SCOTCH BOROUGHS. 
 
 We have now to consider the conduct and opinions of Mr. 
 Sheridan, 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 state of such feverish 
 excitement, that a more than usual degree of tolerance should 
 be exercised towards the errors and extremes into which all par 
 ties 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 naturally 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, too, with a disinterested reverence for ancient institutions, 
 trembled to see them thus approached by rash hands, whose tal- 
 ents for ruin were sufficiently certain, but whose powers of re- 
 construction were yet to be tried. On the other hand, the easy 
 triumph of a people over their 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 conquest 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 
 
RIGHT HON. RICHAili) BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 9t 
 
 what the Revolution performed and promised, almost enough to 
 sanction the indulgence of that splendid dream. It was natural, 
 too, that the greater portion of that unemployed, 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 obscure but 
 ambitious spirits, who felt their aspirings clogged by the medium 
 in which they were sunk, would as naturally welcome such a 
 state of political effervescence, as might enable them, like enfran- 
 chised 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 Revolu- 
 tion, it is not surprising that errors and excesses, both of con- 
 duct and opinion, should be among the first products of so new 
 and sudden a movement of the whole civilized world ; — that the 
 friends of popular rights, presuming upon the triumph that had 
 been gained, should, in the ardor of pursuit, push on the van- 
 guard of their principles, somewhat farther than was consistent 
 with prudence and safety ; or that, on the other side, Authority 
 and its supporters, alarmed by the inroads of the Revolutionary 
 spirit, should but the more stubbornly 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 Eng- 
 land ; 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 pass- 
 ing in France were every way calculated to make a most vivid 
 impression. So susceptible was he, indeed, of such impulses, 
 arid so much under the control of the imaginative department of 
 bis intellect, that, whatever might have been the accidental mood 
 
 VOL. II. 5 
 
98 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OP THE 
 
 of hiss 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 splen- 
 did and the arbitrary. The chief recommendation of the cause 
 of India to his fancy and his feelings was that it involved the fate 
 of ancient dynasties, and invoked retribution for the downfall 
 of thrones and princedoms, to which his imagination, always 
 most affected by objects at a distance, lent a state and splendor 
 that 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 popu- 
 lar contact ; and, upon most occasions, adopted a sort of baro- 
 nial 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 natu- 
 rally heightened into impatience and disgust, by the long and 
 fruitless warfare which he had waged under their banner, and 
 the uniform ill success with v/hich they had blasted all his strug- 
 gles for wealth and power. Nor was he in any better temper 
 with his associates in the cause, — having found that the ascen- 
 dancy, which he had formerly exercised over them, and which, 
 in some degree, consoled him for the want of official dominion, 
 was of late considerably diminished, if not wholly transferred 
 to others. Sheridan, as has been stated, was the most promi- 
 nent object of his jealousy ; — and it is curious to remark how 
 much, even in feelings of this description, the aristocratical biaf 
 of his mind betrayed itself. For, though Mr. Fox, too, had 
 
RIGHT HON. RICHARI) BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 99 
 
 overtaken and even passed him in the race, assuming that station 
 in politics which he himself had previously held, yet so para- 
 mount did those claims of birth and connection, 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 cheer 
 fully. To Sheridan, however, who had no such hereditary pass- 
 port to pre-eminence, he could not give way without heart-burn- 
 ing and humiliation ; and to be supplanted thus by a rival son 
 of earth seemed no less a shock to his superstitious notions 
 about rank, than it was painful to his feelings of self-love and 
 pride. 
 
 Such, as far as can be ascertained by a distant observer of 
 those times, was the temper in which the first events of the Ee 
 volution found the mind of this remarkable man ; — and, power 
 fully as they would, at any time, have appealed to his imagination 
 and prejudices, the state of irritability to which he had been 
 wrought by the causes already enumerated peculiarly predis- 
 posed him, at this moment, to give way to such impressions 
 without restraint, and even to welcome as a timely relief to his 
 pride, the mighty vent thus afforded to the “ splendidahilis‘'* 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 alarm- 
 ing, 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 throw- 
 ing 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 recollections of unpopu- 
 larity and defeat, about to adopt a line of politics which his long 
 knowledge of the people of England, and his sagacious foresight 
 of the consequences of the French Revolution, fully convinced 
 him would lead to the same barren and mortifying results. On 
 
lOt) MEMOIRS OR THE LIFE OP THE 
 
 tne contrary, the cause to which he proffered his alliance, 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 
 dissolution 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 formidable 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 advo- 
 cacy in a crisis so difficult established for him, and which the nar- 
 row and embarrassed state of his circumstances rendered an ob- 
 ject 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 too close coincidence with the service, — the 
 pension bestowed upon him arrived too late to admit of his deriv- 
 ing much more from it than the obloquy by which it was accom- 
 panied. 
 
 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 armo- 
 ries of opinion, from which both Whig and Tory may furnish 
 themselves with weapons, the most splendid, if not the most 
 highly tempered, that ever Genius and Eloquence have conde- 
 scended to bequeath to Party. He has thus too, by his own per- 
 
EIGHT HON. RICHAED BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 101 
 
 sonal versatility, attained, in the world of politics, what Shaks- 
 peare, by the versatility of his characters, achieved for the world 
 in general, — namely, such a universality of application to all opin- 
 ions 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 v/ant of moral identity observable through his 
 life and writings, we are but the more disposed to admire that 
 unrivalled genius, which could thus throw itself out in so many 
 various directions with equal splendor and vigor. 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 : — 
 
 “ Forth in armis 
 
 Ccesaris Lahienus erat ; nunc transfuga vilisF 
 
 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 of nature, — each 
 portion peopled by its own giant race of opinions, differing alto- 
 gether in features and language, and committed in eternal hostil- 
 ity with each other. 
 
 It was during the discussions on the Army Estimates, at the 
 commencement 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 dic- 
 tates 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, 
 entered fully, and, it must be owned, most luminously into the 
 question, — expressing his - apprehension, lest the example of 
 Fran3e, which had, at a former period, threatened England with 
 
102 
 
 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 
 
 the contagion of despotism, should now he the means of introdu- 
 cing among her people the no less fatal taint of Democracy and 
 Atheism. After son .e eloquent tributes of admiration to Mr. 
 Fox, rendered more animated, perhaps, by the consciousness that 
 they were the last offerings thrown into the open grave of their 
 friendship, he proceeded to deprecate the effects which the lan- 
 guage of his Right Honorable Friend might have, in appearing to 
 countenance the disposition observable among “ some wicked per- 
 sons” to “recommend an imitation of the French spirit of Re- 
 form,” and then added a declaration, equally remarkable for the 
 insidious charge which it implied against his own party, and the 
 notice of his approaching desertion which it conveyed to the other, 
 — that “ so strongly opposed was he to any the least tendency 
 towards the means of introducing a democracy like that of the 
 French, as well as to the end itself, 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 (he was far, very far, from be- 
 lieving they could), he would abandon his best friends, and join 
 with his worst enemies to oppose either the means or the end.” 
 
 It is pretty evident, from these words, that Burke 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 some moment of provocation, make the intempe- 
 rance of others responsible for his own deliberate schism. Tlie 
 reply of Mr. Fox was not such as could afford this opportunity ; 
 — it was, on the contrary, full of candor and moderation, and re* 
 pelled the implied charge of being a favorer of the new doctrines 
 of France in the most decided, but, at the same time, most con- 
 ciliatory terms. 
 
 Did suck a declaration,^’ he asked, warrant the idea that he was a 
 friend to Democracy ? He declared himself equally the enemy of all ab- 
 solute forms of government, whether an absolute Monarchy, an absolute 
 Aristocracy, or an absolute Democracy. He was adverse to all extremes, 
 and a friend only to a mixed government like our own, in which, if the 
 Aris ;ocracy, or indeed either of the three brar^hes of the Constitution were 
 
EIGHT HOH. KICHAED BEINSLEY SHEEIDAN. 103 
 
 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) was his sense of the judgment of his Right Honorable 
 Friend, such his knowledge of his principles, such the value which he set 
 upon them, and such the estimation in which he held his friendship, that if 
 he were to put all the political information which he had learned from books 
 all which he had gained from science, and all which any knowledge of the 
 world and its affairs had taught him, into one scale, and the improvement 
 which he had derived from his Right Honorable 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, — nor, except in what related to the judg- 
 ment and principles of his friend, was it at all exaggerated. The 
 conversation of Burke must have been like the procession of a 
 Roman triumph, exhibiting power and riches at every step — oc- 
 casionally, perhaps, mingling the low Fescenniiie jest with the 
 lofty music of its march, but glittering all over with the spoils of 
 the whole ransacked world. 
 
 Mr. Burke, in reply, after reiterating his praises of Mr. Fox, 
 and the full confidence which he felt in his moderation and saga- 
 city, professed himself perfectly satisfied with the explanations 
 that had been given. The conversation would thus have passed 
 off without any explosion, had not Sheridan, who was well aware 
 that against him, in particular, the charge of a tendency to the 
 adoption of French principles was directed, risen immediately 
 after, and by a speech warmly in favor 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 immediate issue. 
 
 He differed,” he said, decidedly, from his Right Honorable Friend 
 in almost every word that he had uttered respecting the French Revolii 
 
i04 
 
 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 
 
 tion. He conceived it to be as just a Revolution as ours, proceeding upoL 
 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 laws, 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 magistrates. What their 
 revenues ? national bankruptcy. This he thought the fundamental error 
 of his Right Honorable Friend’s argument, that he accused the National 
 Assembly of creating the evils, which they had found existing in full de- 
 formity 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 on 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 constitution of their government, and in the pro- 
 digal and corrupt administration 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 ISj^tional 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 endeavoring to in- 
 validate the masterly view which Burke had just taken of 
 the Revolution of 1688, as compared, in its means and object, 
 wdth that of France. There was, in truth, but little similarity 
 between them, — the task of the former being to preserve liberty, 
 tnat 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 
 declaied that “ henceforth, his Honorable Friend and he were 
 separated in politics,” — complained that his arguments had been 
 cruelly misrepresented, and that “ the Honorable Gentleman had 
 
EIGHT HOIST. RIGHAED BRINSLEY SHERIDAN 105 
 
 thought proper to charge him with being the advocate of des- 
 potism.” Having endeavored to defend himself from such an 
 imputation, he concluded by saying, — 
 
 Was that a fair and candid mode of treating his arguments ? or was it 
 what he ought to have expected the moment of departed friendahip ? On 
 the contrary, was it not evident that the Honorable Gentleman had made 
 a sacrifice of his friendship, for the sake of catching some momentary popu- 
 larity ? If the fact were such, even greatly as he should continue to admire 
 the Honorable Gentleman’s talents, he must tell him that his argument 
 was chiefly an argument ad invidiam^ 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 as- 
 sumed a still more serious aspect, and by which the policy of Mr. 
 Pitt at length acquired a predominance, not speedily to be for- 
 gotten 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, however, had more sanguine hopes appears from an ef- 
 fort which was made, within 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 persons 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 
 
 * Entitled “ Utrum Horurn.” 
 
 VOL II. 
 
106 
 
 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 
 
 own party. Full of this persuasion he brought them both together the 
 second night after the original contest in the House of Commons ; and car- 
 ried them to Burlington House to Mr. Fox and the Duke of Portland, ac- 
 cording 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 extra- 
 ordinary talents of the parties.” 
 
 It will easily be believed that to the success of this conciliatory 
 effort the temper on one side would be a greater obstacle than 
 even the hate on both. Mr. Sheridan, as if anxious to repel from 
 himself the suspicion of having contributed to its failure, took 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 
 virtue he had the highest esteem, veneration, and regard, and 
 with w^hom 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 no- 
 tice — partly, from an implacable feeling towards him who offered 
 them, and partly, perhaps, from a suspicion that they were in 
 tended 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. She- 
 ridan 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 portion of his oratory, — his 
 speeches on the subject occupying nearly forty pages. It is upon 
 topics of this unpromising kind, and from the very effort, perhaps, 
 to dignify and enliven them, that the peculiar characteristics of 
 an orator are sometimes most racily brought out. To the Cider 
 Tax we are indebted for one of the grandest bursts of the const! 
 tutional 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 humor of his farce, and the pointed, artificial wit of his 
 
EIGHT HOH. RICHAED BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 107 
 
 comedy. For instance, in representing, as one of the abuses that 
 might arise from the discretionary power of remitting fines to 
 manufacturers, the danger that those only should feel the indul- 
 gence, who were found to be supporters of the existing adminis 
 tration,* he says : — 
 
 Were a man, whose stock had increased or dimini'^hed beyoud the 
 standard table in the Act, to attend the Commissioners and assure them 
 that the weather alone had caused the increase or decrr ase of the article, 
 and that no fraud whatever had been used on the occasion, the Commis- 
 sioners 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 same 
 purpose, the Commissioners might say, ‘ Sir, you are not to be believed ; 
 we see fraud in your blue and buff, and it \2 impossible tb^t you should 
 not be a smuggler.” 
 
 Again, in stating the case between .:he manufacturers and the 
 Minister, the former of whom objc ;ted to the Bill altogether, 
 while the latter determined to pv ;serve its p’^nciple and only 
 alter its form, he says : — 
 
 “ The manufacturers ask the Rv^^t Honorable Gentleman, if he will 
 consent to give up the principle ? The Right Honorable Gentleman an- 
 swers, ‘ No ; the principle must r//: be abandoned, but do you inform me 
 how I shall alter the Bill.’ TV/; the manufacturers refused ; and they 
 wisely refused it in his opinion ; for, what was it but the Minister’s saying, 
 ‘ I have a yoke to put abo»\t y .vir necks^ — do you help me in fitting it on 
 — only assist me with your 'roowledge of the subject, and I’ll fit you with 
 the prettiest pair of fetterr ^ r.at ever wern seen in the world.’ ” 
 
 As a specimen of me, quaint and far-sought witticisms, the fol- 
 lowing passage in th? same vSpeech may vie with Trip’s “ Post- 
 Obit on the blue /od silver, <^ic.” — Having described the effects 
 of the weather in increasing or decreasing the weight of the stock, 
 beyond the exAct standard established in the Act, he adds, 
 
 ‘‘ The Con^plssioners, before they could, in justice, levy such fihes, 
 ought to a^o^dain that the weather is always in that precise state of heat 
 or cold which the Act supposed it would be. They ought to make Christ- 
 
 * A f f.Bc of this kind formed the subject of a spirited Speech of Mr. Windham, in 1793. 
 See h»» %'peeches, vol. i. p. 207. 
 
108 
 
 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 
 
 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 
 adverted with considerable warmth to a rumor, which, he com- 
 plained, had been maliciously circulated, of a misunderstanding 
 between himself and the Duke of Portland, in consequence (as 
 the Report expresses it) 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.” i_fter 
 declaring that “ there was not in these rumors one grain of truth,” • 
 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 be 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 power 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 most amply gratified.” 
 
 As it is certain, that the feelings which Burke entertained to- 
 wards Sheridan were now in some degree shared by all those who 
 afterwards seceded from the party, this boast of the high opinion 
 of the Duke of Portland must be taken with what, in Heraldry, 
 is called Abatement — that is, a certain degree of diminution of 
 the emblazonry. 
 
 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 re- 
 lief of the Dissenters. The writer, whose alarm for the interest 
 of the Church had somewhat disturbed his sense of liberality and 
 justice, endeavors to impress upon Mr. Sheridan, and 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 foundation in truth, however ungenerous might be 
 the deduction which the writer would draw from it. It is, no 
 
BIGHT HON. RICHAKD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 109 
 
 doubt, natural that large bodies of men, impatiently suffering 
 under the ban of disqualification, should avail themselves, with- 
 out 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 in 
 dispose 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 predilections nor 
 principle are regarded in the choice of means. To the great 
 credit, however, of the Whig party, it must be said, that, though 
 often set aside and even disowned by their clients, they have 
 rarely suffered their high duty, as advocates, to be relaxed or 
 interrupted by such momentary suspensions of confidence. In 
 this respect, the cause of Ireland has more than once been a trial 
 of their constancy. Even Lord North was able, by his reluctan^ 
 concessions, to supersede them for a time in the favor of my too 
 believing countrymen, — whose despair of finding justice at any 
 hands has often led them thus to cany their confidence to market, 
 and to place it in the hands of the first plausible bidder. The 
 many vicissitudes of popularity which their own illustrious Whig, 
 Grattan, had to encounter, would have wearied out the ardor of 
 any less magnanimous champion. But high minds are as little 
 affected by such unworthy 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 
 his great struggle with the Crown in 1784, and laid their inter- 
 est and hopes at the feet of the new idol of the day. Notwith- 
 standing this, we find him, in the year 1787, warmly maintaining, 
 and in opposition to his rival, the cause of the very persons who 
 had contributed to make that rival triumphant, — and showing 
 just so much remembrance of their late defection as served to 
 render this sacrifice of personal to public feelings more signal. 
 
no 
 
 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 
 
 “ He was determined,” he said, “ to let them know that, though 
 they could upon some occasions lose sight of their principles of 
 liberty, he would not upon any occasion lose sight of his prin- 
 ciples of toleration.” In the present session, too, notwithstand- 
 ing that the great organ of the Dissenters, Dr. Price, had lately 
 in a sermon, publishe-d 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, that he would himself bring the motion 
 for their relief before the House. 
 
 On the 12th of June the Parliament was dissolved, — and Mr. 
 Sheridan again succeeded in being elected for Stafford. The fol- 
 lowing letters, however, addressed to him by Mrs. Sheridan dur- 
 ing the election, will prove that they were not without some 
 apprehensions of a different result. The letters are still more 
 interesting, as. showing how warmly alive to each other’s feelings 
 the hearts of both husband wife could remain, after the long lapse 
 of near twenty years, and after trials more fatal to love than even 
 time itself. 
 
 “ This letter will find you, my dear .Dick, I hope, encircled with honors 
 at Stafford. I take it for granted you entered it triumphantly on Sunday, 
 — hut I am very impatient to hear the particulars, and of the utter discom- 
 fiture of S — and his followers. I received your note fi’om Birmingham this 
 morning, and am happy to find that you and my dear cub were well, so far 
 on your journey. You could not be happier than I should be in the pro- 
 posed alteration for Tom, but we will talk more of this when we meet. I 
 sent you Cartwright yesterday, and to-day I pack you off 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. Crewe, to enable you to speak 
 of your qualification if you should be called upon. So I think I have exe- 
 cuted 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, 
 I was at home all day busy for you, — kept Mrs. Rei4 to dinner, — went to 
 the Opera,— afterwards to Mrs. St. John^s, where I lost my money sadly. 
 Sir, — eat straw^borries and cream for supper, — sat between Lord Salisbury 
 and Mr. Meynell, (hope you approve of that. Sir,) — overheard Lord Salis- 
 
RIGHT HON. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. Ill 
 
 bury advise Miss Boyle by no means to subscribe 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 din- 
 ner, — in the evening at Lady Hampden’s, — lost my money again. Sir, and 
 came home by one o’clock. ’Tis now near one o’clock, — my father is estab- 
 lished in my boudoir, and, when I have finished this, I am going with him 
 to hear Abbe Vogler play on the Stafford organ. I have promised to dine 
 with Mrs. Crewe, 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 find it 
 is the report of the day, that Bond Hopkins has 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 has 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. 
 I 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 amusement, 
 — 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 rumors 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 boys, 
 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.” 
 
 “My Dearest Dick, Wednesday, 
 
 “ I am full of anxiety and fright about you, — I cannot but think your let- 
 ters are very alarming. Deuce take the Corporation ! is it impossible to 
 make them resign their pretensions, and make peace with the Burgesses ? 
 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 be ! 
 — however, they are ready. I saw Mr. Cocker yesterday, — he collected 
 them together last night, and gave them a treat, — so they are in high good 
 humor. 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 
 
112 
 
 MEMOiBS OF THE LIFE OF THE 
 
 was not to do anything in your absence. — It strikes me the bad business he 
 mentions was entirely owing to his own stupidity, and want of a little pa- 
 tience, — 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 of to-day. Might not I as well accuse you of coldness, for not 
 filing 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 good, some 
 how or other, for you. I have given you a regular Journal of my time, 
 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, for indeed 
 nothing was ever farther from my heart. 
 
 You will see Mr. Horne Tooke’s advertisement to-day in the papers ; 
 — what do you think of that to complete the thing? Bishop Dixon has just 
 called from the hustings : — ^he says the late Recorder, Adair, proposed 
 Charles with a good speech, and great applause, — Captain Berkeley, Lord 
 Hood, with a bad speech, not much applauded ; and then Horne Tooke 
 came forward, and, in the most impudent speech that ever was heard, pro- 
 posed 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 qualifica- 
 tions 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 an 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 anx- 
 iety. 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, 75 ; Horne Tooke, 17 ! But he still 
 persists in his determination of polling a man 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.” 
 
UiGHT HON. KICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 113 
 
 “ 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 yourself, 
 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 favorites the Blacks must be, to turn so suddenly 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 West- 
 minster with Charles, instead of Lord John ; — in that case you would have 
 come in now, and we should not have been persecuted by this Horne Tooke. 
 However, it is the dullest contested election that ever was seen — no can- 
 vassing, no houses open, no cockades. But T heard that a report prevails 
 now, that Horne Tooke polling so few the two or three first days is an art- 
 ful 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 night, was as follows : — Gipps, 220 ; Lord * *, 
 211 ; Sir T. Honeywood, 216 ; Mr. Warton, 163. We have got two mem- 
 bers for Wendover, and two at Ailsbury. Mr. Barham is beat at Stock- 
 bridge. Mr. Tierney says he shall be beat, owing to Bate Dudley’s man- 
 oeuvres, and the Dissenters having all forsaken him, — a set of ungrateful 
 wretches. E. Fawkener has just sent me a state of the poll at Northamp- 
 ton, as it stood yesterday, when they adjourned to dinner : — Lord Comp- 
 ton, 160 ; Bouverie, 98 ; Colonel Manners, 72. They are in hopes Mr. 
 Manners will give up, this is all my news. Sir. 
 
 ‘‘ We 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. Crewe 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 I 
 should like it very well. God thee bless, my dear Dick. 
 
 Yours ever, true and affectionate, 
 
 E. S. 
 
 “ Duke of Portland has just left me : — he is full of anxiety about you : — 
 this is the second time he has called to inquire.” 
 
 Having secured his own election, Mr. Sheridan now hastened 
 to lend his aid, where such a lively reinforcement was much want- 
 ed, on the hustings at V/estminster. The contest here was pro- 
 
MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF 
 
 114 
 
 tract ed to the 2d of July ; and it required no little exercise both 
 of wit and temper to encounter the cool personalities of Tooke, 
 who had not forgotten the severe remarks of Sheridan upon his 
 pamphlet the preceding year, and who, in addition to his strong 
 powers of sarcasm, had all those advantages which, in such a con- 
 test, contempt for the courtesies and compromises of party war- 
 flire gives. Among other sallies of his splenetic humor it is re- 
 lated, that Mr. Fox having, upon one occasion, retired from the 
 hustings, and left to Sheridan the task of addressing the multi- 
 tude, 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 pub- 
 lished his celebrated ‘‘ Reflections” in the month of November, 
 1790 ; and never did any work, with the exception, perhaps, of 
 the Eikon Basilike, produce such a rapid, deep, and general sen- 
 sation. The Eikon was the book of a King, and this might, in 
 ^ another sense, be called the Book of Kings. Not only in Eng- 
 land, but throughout all Europe, — in every part of which mon- 
 archy was now trembling for its existence, — this lofty appeal to 
 loyalty was heard and 'welcomed. Its effect upon the already 
 tottering Whig party was like that of “ the Voice,” in the ruins 
 of Rome, “ disparting tow^ers.” The whole fabric of the old Rock- 
 ingham confederacy shook to its base. Even some, who after- 
 wards recovered their equilibrium, at first yielded to the eloquence 
 of this extraordinary book, — which, like the sera of chivalry, 
 whose loss it deplores, mixes a grandeur with error, and throw’s 
 a charm round political superstition, that will long render its pages 
 a sort of region of Royal romance, to which fancy will have re- ♦ 
 course for illusions that have lost their last hold on reason. 
 
 Tne undisguised freedom with which Mr. Fox and Mr. Sheri- 
 dan expressed every wEere their opinions of this wmrk and its 
 
 * Tooke, it is said, upon coming’ one Monday morning to the hustings, was thus ad- 
 dressed by a partisan of his opponent, not of a very reputable character : — “Well, Mr. 
 Tooke, you will have all the blackguaras with you to-day.”— “ I am delighted to hear it, 
 Sir,” (said Tooke, bowing,) “ and from such good authority.” 
 
lUGHT HOK. RICHARD BRIKSLEY SHERIDAN. 115 
 
 principles had, of course, no small influence on the temper of the 
 author, and, while it confirmed him in his hatred and jealousy of 
 the one, prepared him for the breach which he meditated with the 
 other. This breach was now, indeed, daily expected, as a natu- 
 ral sequel to the rupture with Mr. Sheridan in the last session ; 
 but, by various accidents 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 took advantage, to 
 sever the tie between himself and Mr. Fox forever. 
 
 This scene, so singular in a public assembly, where the natu- 
 ral affections are 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 various publications, that it would be superfluous to enter into 
 the details of it here. The following are the solemn and stern 
 words in which sentence of death was pronounced upon a friend- 
 ship, that had now lasted for more than the fourth part of a cen- 
 tury. It certainly,” said Mr. Burke, “ was indiscretion at any 
 period, but especially at his time 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 pru- 
 dence 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 afl 
 fected as to be for some moments unable to speak : — he wept, it 
 is said, even to sobbing ; and persons who were in the gallery at 
 tne time declare, that, while he spoke, there was hardly a dry eye 
 around them. 
 
 Had it been possible for two natures so incapable of disguise 
 
116 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 
 
 — the one from simplicity and frankness, the other from ungov- 
 ernable temper, — to have continued in relations of amity, not- 
 withstanding their disagreement upon a question which was at 
 that moment setting the world in arms, both themselves and the 
 country would have been the better for such a compromise be- 
 tween them. Their long habits of mutual deference would have 
 mingled with and moderated the discussion of their present dif- 
 ferences ; — the tendency to one common centre to which their 
 minds had been accustomed, would have prevented them from 
 flying so very widely asunder ; and both might have been thus 
 saved from those extremes of principle, which Mr. Burke always, 
 and Mr. Fox sometimes, had recourse to in defending their re- 
 spective opinions, and which, by lighting, as it were, the torch at 
 both ends, but hastened a conflagration in which Liberty herself 
 might have been the sufferer. But it was evident that such a 
 compromise would have been wholly impossible. Even granting 
 that Mr. Burke did not welcome the schism as a relief, neither 
 the temper of the men nor the spirit of the times, which con- 
 verted 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 amicitiaP Mr. Sheridan saw this from 
 the first ; and, in hazarding that vehement speech, by which he 
 provoked the rupture between himself and Burke, neither his 
 judgment nor his temper were so much off* their guard as they 
 who blamed that speech seemed inclined to infer. But, perceiv- 
 ing that a separation was in the end inevitable, he thought it safer, 
 perhaps, as well as manlier, to encounter the extremity at once, 
 than by any temporizing delay, or too 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 felt offended by the censures which some of his po 
 litical friends had pronounced upon the indiscretion (as it was 
 called) of his speech in the last year, and that, having, in con- 
 
EIGHT HON. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 117 
 
 sequence, withdrawn 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 
 take the earliest opportunity of repeating, fully and explicitly, 
 the same avowal of his sentiments. 
 
 The following letter from Dr. Parr to Mrs. Sheridan, written 
 immediately after the scene between Burke and Sheridan in tbe 
 preceding year, is curious : — 
 
 “ Dear Madam, 
 
 1 am most fixedly and most indignantly on the side of Mr. Sheridan 
 and Mr. Fox against Mr. Burke. It is not merely French politics that pro- 
 duced this dispute ; — they might have been settled privately. No, no, — 
 there is jealousy lurking underneath ; — jealousy of Mr. Sheridan’s elo- 
 quence ; — jealousy of his popularity ; — jealousy of his influence with Mr. 
 Fox ; — ^jealousy, perhaps, of his connection with the Prince. 
 
 “ Mr. Sheridan was, I think, 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 I am sure, yes, positively sure, that nothing 
 else will allay the ferment of men’s 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 an 
 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 inquiry. 
 
 “ I know Burke is not addicted to giving up, — and so much the worse 
 for him and his party. As to Mr. Fox’s yielding, well had it been for all, 
 all, all the party, if Mr. 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 I will not speak out, for, 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 uncorrupt, T know ; but his 
 passions are quite headstrong ;* and age, and disappointment, and the sight 
 of other men rising into fame and consequence, sour him. Pray tell me 
 
 * It was well said, (I believe, by Mr. Fox,) that it was lucky both for Burke and Wind- 
 ham that they took the Koyal side on the subject of the French Revolution, as they would 
 liavc got hanged on the other, 
 
118 
 
 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 
 
 when they are reconciled, — though, as I said, it is nothing to the purpose 
 without a public explanation. 
 
 I am, dear Madam, 
 
 ‘‘ Yours truly, 
 
 S. Parr.” 
 
 Another letter, communicated to me as having been written 
 about this period to Sheridan by a Gentleman, then abroad, who 
 was well 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 you 
 that I can rely on. I wish to know how all my old companions and fellow- 
 laborers do ; if the club yet exists ; if you, and Richardson, and Lord John, 
 and Ellis, and Lawrence, and Fitzpatrick, &c., meet, and joke, and write, 
 as of old. What is become of Becket’s, and the supper-parties, — the nodes 
 ceenceque ? Poor Burgoyne ! I am sure you all mourned him as I did, par- 
 ticularly Richardson : — pray remember 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 our So- 
 ciety cannot enter into His Grace’s correspondence. I have indeed carried 
 on a pretty regular 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 honor 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 
 violence of principle , that makes him lose his friendships in his politics, and 
 quarrel with every one who differs from him. Bitterly have I lamented 
 that greatest of these quarrels, and, indeed, the only important one : nor 
 cau I conceive it to have been less afflicting to my private feelings than 
 fatal to the party. The worst of it to me was, that I was obliged to con- 
 demn the man I loved, and that all the warmth of my affection, and the 
 zeal of my partiality, could no^suggest a single excuse to vindicate 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 principally 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 
 
EIGHT HON. EIGHARI) BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 119 
 
 the war between Russia and the Porte, — one of the few measures 
 of Mr. Pitt on which the sense of the nation was opposed to him. 
 So unpopular, 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 probability 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 des- 
 tinies 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 representative to Petersburgh, for the purpose of frustrating 
 the objects for which the King’s ministers were then actually ne- 
 gotiating. This accusation, though more than once obliquely 
 intimated during the discussions upon the Russian Armament in 
 1791, first met the public eye, in any tangible form, among those 
 celebrated Articles of Impeachment against Mr. Fox, which were 
 drawn up by Burke’s practised 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 unrefuted, till the appearance of the Memoirs of Mr. Pitt by 
 the Bishop of Winchester ; when, upon the authority of docu- 
 ments 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 
 between 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 
 
 * This was the third time that his talent for impeachin;2: was exercised, as he aclcnowl- 
 edged having drawn up, during the administration of Lord North, seven distinct Articles 
 of Impeachment against that nobleman, which, hovyever, the advice of Lord Rocking 
 ^am induced him to relincjuish. 
 
120 
 
 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 
 
 confidently demanded) shall have put the public in possession of 
 more recondite materials for judging, they must regard as satis- 
 factory and conclusive 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 par- 
 ties, 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 Demos- 
 thenes and Cicero. The following is a literal copy of Her Impe- 
 rial Majesty’s note on the subject — 
 
 ‘‘ Ecrives au Cte. Worenzof qu’il me fasse avoir en marbre blanc le Buste 
 resemblant de Charle Fox. Je veut le mettre sur ma Colonade entre eux 
 de Demosthene et Ciceron. 
 
 II a delivre par son eloquence sa Patrie et la Russie d’une guerre a la 
 quelle il n’y avoit ni justice ni raisons.’’ 
 
 Another subject that engaged much of the attention of Mr. 
 Sheridan this year was his own motion relative to the constitu- 
 tion of the 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 know- 
 ledge of that country, to present to the House the Petition of the 
 Convention of Delegates, for a Reform of the internal govern- 
 ment of the Royal Boroughs. How fully satisfied they were 
 mth his exertions in their cause may be judged by the following 
 extract from the Minutes of Convention, dated* 11th August, 
 1791 
 
 Mr. Mills of Perth, after a suitable introductory speech, moved a vote 
 of thanks to Mr. Sheridan, in the following words : — 
 
 * Found among Mr. Sheridan’s papers, with the.se words, in his own hand-writing, 
 annexed : — “N. B. Fox would have lost it, if I had not made him look for it, and taken 
 a copy.’^ 
 
EIGHT HON. RICHAKD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 121 
 
 ‘^The Delegates of the Burgesses of Scotland, associated for the pur- 
 pose 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 attachment to it 
 which the whole tenor of his conduct has evinced, and the admirable moder- 
 ation he has all along displayed, 
 
 ‘‘ Resolved unanimously. That the most sincere thanks of this meeting 
 be given to the said Richard Brinsley Sheridan, Esq., for his steady, honor- 
 able, and judicious conduct in bringing the question relative to the violated 
 rights of the Scottish Boroughs to its present important and favorable cri- 
 sis ; and the Burgesses with firm confidence hope that, from his attachment 
 to the cause, which he has shown to be deeply rooted in principle, he will 
 persevere to exert his distinguished abilities, till the objects of it are ob- 
 tained, with that inflexible firmness, and constitutional moderation, which 
 have appeared so conspicuous and exemplary throughout the whole of his 
 conduct, as to be highly deserving of the imitation of all good citizens. 
 
 “ John Ewen, Secretary.” 
 
 From a private letter written this year by one of the Scottish 
 Delegates to a friend of Mr. Sheridan, (a copy of which letter I 
 have found among the papers of the latter,) it appears that the 
 disturbing effects of Mr. Burke’s book had already shown them- 
 selves so strongly among the Whig party as to fill the writer 
 with apprehensions of their defection, even on the safe and mode- 
 rate 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 au- 
 thority of the letter may be depended 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, how- 
 ever, held among this portion of the party, with respect to the 
 prudence of lending their assistance to the measure of Scotch 
 Reform; and Sir James Mackintosh, as I have heard him say, 
 was in company with Sheridan, when Dr. Lawrence came direct 
 from the meeting, to inform him that they had agreed to support 
 his motion. 
 
 yOL, II. 
 
 6 
 
122 
 
 MEMOIES OF THE LIFE OF THE 
 
 The state 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 reason* 
 able they may deem them, rather than risk a further application 
 of the principle, or open a breach by which a bolder spirit of in- 
 novation 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 manner in which so important a portion 
 of the British empire is represented, than by supposing the Lords 
 of the Manor throughout England to be invested with the power 
 of electing her representatives, — the manorial rights, too, being, 
 in a much greater number of instances than at present, held in- 
 dependently 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 separated. 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 
 duty of all present and future Lord Advocates to defend, and 
 which neither the lively assaults of a Sheridan nor the sounder 
 reasoning and industry of an Abercrombie 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 Burke, even by some of those who most violently dif- 
 fered with him : — 
 
 ‘‘ During the recess of Parliament I 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 I 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 bet- 
 ter 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 of Mr. Burke’s book— ‘koiigh I confess, and with sorrow 
 
EIGHT HON. EICHAKD BEINSLEY SHERIDAN. 123 
 
 I confess, that the holy flame was quite extinguished in his odious alterca- 
 tion with you and Mr. Fox.’^ 
 
 A letter from the Prince of Wales to Sheridan this year fur- 
 nishes 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 it appears, too urgent to wait for a refe- 
 rence to Mr. Fox, Sheridan had alone the honor of advising His 
 Royal Highness in the correspondence 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 mar- 
 riage this year ; — a question which involved considerations con- 
 nected with the Succession to the Crown, and which the Prince, 
 with the recollection of what occurred on the same subject m 
 1787, could only get rid of by an evasive answer. 
 
CHAPTER V. 
 
 DEATH OF MRS. SHERIDAH. 
 
 In the year 1792, after a long illness, which terminated in 
 consumption, 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 bt)th eye and heart, than this accom- 
 plished and lovely person exhibited. To judge by what we hear, 
 it was impossible to see her without admiration, or know her 
 without love ; and a late Bishop used to say that she “ seemed 
 to him the connecting link between woman and angel.”* The 
 devotedness of affection, 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 nearer to her. W e have already seen 
 with what pliant sympathy she followed her husband through his 
 various pursuits, — identifying herself with the politician as warm- 
 ly 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 
 w ife of the senator and orator we see her, with no less zeal, 
 
 * Jackson of Exeter, too, giving a description of her, in some Memoirs of his own Life 
 that were never published, said that to see her, as she stood singing beside hint the 
 |)iaRp-forte, “ like looking into the fgpe of hji anpl.’^ 
 
RIGHT HO]Sr. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 125 
 
 making extracts from state-papers, and copying out ponderous 
 pamphlets, — entering with all her heart and soul into the details 
 of elections, and even endeavoring to fathom the mysteries of the 
 Funds. The affectionate and sensible care with which she watched 
 over, not only her own children, but those which her beloved sis- 
 ter, 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, per- 
 haps, 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 was 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 w'orld, 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 universal 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 complaisance to some of those 
 numerous worshippers, who crowd around such beautiful and un 
 guarded 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 willingly, 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 the rose. 
 
 In swinging it rudely, too rudely, alas. 
 
 They snap it — it falls to the ground.” 
 
126 
 
 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 
 
 They had, immediately after their marriage, as we have seen, 
 passed some time in a little cottage at Eastburnham, and it was a 
 period, of course, long remembered by them both for its happi- 
 ness. 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 anything bring back those first feelings ?” 
 then adding with a sigh, “ Yes, perhaps, the cottage at East- 
 burnham might.” In this as well as in some other traits of the 
 same kind, there is assuredly any thing but that common-place 
 indifference, w^hich too often clouds over the evening of married 
 life. On the contrary, it seems rather the struggle of affection 
 with its own remorse ; and, like the humorist who mourned over 
 the extinction of his intellect so eloquently as to prove that it 
 was still in full vigor, 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. 
 Sheridan, in which the feminine character of her mind very in- 
 terestingly 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 Sheridan, — 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 allusion 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 Lisst, London, June 6. 
 
 I am happy to find by yonr 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 5 but it is no longer wonderful 
 
KlGHl* HON, RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 127 
 
 that he should be buried here, when Mr. Jackman has so barbarously mur- 
 dered him with you. I fancy he would risk another broken head, rather 
 than give up his title to it as an ofiScer of 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 other- 
 wise 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 first 
 
 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 hersell 
 to subdue all your Volunteers by the fire of her eyes only : — how astonish- 
 ed she must be to find that 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 
 possible. We are to go to Chatsworth, and to another friend of mine in 
 that neighborhood, 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 to Brightelmstone to wash it away 
 in the sea. Do you ever see Mrs. Greville ? I am glad to hear my two 
 nephews are both in so thriving a way. Are you still a nurse ? I should 
 like to take a peep at your bantlings. V/hich is the handsomest ? have 
 you candor 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., &c., 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 he 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 are some 
 touches both of sisterly and of conjugal feeling, which seem to 
 bespeak a heart happy in all its affections. 
 
128 
 
 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 
 
 My Dear Lisst, Putney, August 16. 
 
 You will no doubt be surprised to find me still dating from this plact. 
 but various reasons have detained me here from day to day, to the great 
 dissatisfaction of my dear Mary, who has been expecting me hourly for the 
 last fortnight. I 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, per- 
 haps, 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 con- 
 descend 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, he has 
 more experience in these matters than I have. 
 
 Mr. Forbes dined here the other day, and I had a great deal ot conver- 
 sation with him on various subjects relating to you all. He says, Charleses 
 manner of talking of his wife, &c. 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 an- 
 other half hour to your farm, — and then we expect you will behave like a 
 reasonable person.’ 
 
 “ So Mrs. is not happy : poor thing, I dare say, if the truth were 
 
 known, he teazes her to death. Your very good husbands generally contrive 
 to make you sensible of their merit somehow or other. 
 
 ‘‘ From a letter Mr. Canning has just got from Dublin, I find you have 
 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 impossible 
 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 consideration that 
 gives me many a painful hour. But they are happy, with their little por- 
 tion of the goods of this world : — then, what are riches good for ? For my 
 
iilGHT HON. EICHAED BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 129 
 
 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 
 estate. 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 be- 
 lieve me 
 
 “ Truly yours.” 
 
 The following letter appears to have been written in 1785, 
 some months after the death of her sister, Miss Maria Linley. 
 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 vero 
 Famaque de forma pene maligna 
 
 Thy beauty far outruns even rumor’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 time entirely occupied by the atfect- 
 ing 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. 
 
 I am still a recluse, you see, but I am preparing to launch for the win- 
 ter 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 re- 
 mained 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 neighborhood we are both quite stout and well again, 
 (for I took it into my head to fall sick again, too, without rhyme or rea- 
 son.) 
 
 “We purpose going to town to-morrow or next day. Our own house 
 has been painting and papering, and the weather has been so unfavorable 
 to the business, that it is probable it will not be fit for us to go into 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 
 
 VOL. n. 6* 
 
ISO 
 
 MEMOIRS OV' THE LIFE OF THE 
 
 glad to have seen me in Dublin. You are very flattering in the reasons 
 you give, but I rather think his vanity would have beeu more gratified by 
 showing every body how much prettier and younger his wife was than the 
 Mrs. Sheridan in whose favor they have been prejudiced by your good-na- 
 tured partiality. If I could have persuaded myself to trust the treacher- 
 ous ocean, the pleasure of seeing you and your nursery would have com- 
 pensated for all the fame I should have lost by a comparison. But my 
 guardian sylph, vainer of my beauty, perhaps, than myself, would not suf- 
 fer me to destroy the flattering illusion you have so often displayed to your 
 Irish friends. No, — I shall stay till I am past all pretensions, and then you 
 may excuse your want of taste by saying, ‘ Oh, if you had seen her when 
 she was young V 
 
 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 fa- 
 ther 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 ohstinatus mulioy the attempt will be difiScult, and 
 the success uncertain. God bless you, and believe me 
 
 “ Mrs. Lefanu, Great Guff-Street, Dublin. Truly yours.^’ 
 
 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 unne- 
 cessary 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 Lissy^ London, April 5. 
 
 ‘‘ Your last letter I hope was written when you were low spirited, and 
 consequently inclined to forebode misfortune. I would not show it to She- 
 ridan : — he 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 confident he never has, 
 nor ever will feel half the duty and affections that Dick has always exprest. 
 I know how deeply he will be afflicted, if you confirm the melancholy ac- 
 count of his declining health but I trust your next will remove my ap- 
 prehensions, and make it unnecessary for me to wound his affectionate 
 heart by the intelligence. I flatter myself likewise, that you have been 
 without reason alarmed about poor Bess. Her life, to be sure, must be 
 
EIGHT HOH. RICHABD BRINSLEV SHERIDAIT. ISI 
 
 dreadful ; — but I should hope the good nature and kindness of her disposi- 
 tion will support her, and enable her to continue the painful duty so ne- 
 cessary, probably, to the comfort of your poor father. If Charles has not 
 or does 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 Mrs. 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 im- 
 mediately on coming to town, which brought on 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 re- 
 spect. My sweet little charge, too, promise^o 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, I idolize w'hen 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 alvv^ays 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 inter- 
 esting as showing how little her heart went along with the gaye- 
 ties into which her husband’s connection with the world of fashion 
 and politics led her. 
 
132 
 
 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 
 
 My Dear Lisst, May 23. 
 
 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 situa- 
 tion. 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 very glad to find your father is better. As there has been a re- 
 cess lately from the Trial, I thought it best to acquaint Sheridan with his 
 illness. I hope now, however, there is but little reason to be alarmed 
 about him. Mr. Tickell has just received an account from Holland, that 
 poor Mrs. Berkeley, (whom you 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 
 impatient to be once more out of 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 im- 
 proper to refuse a Royal invitation, if I was not absolutely confined by ill- 
 ness. Adieu. Believe me truly yours. 
 
 You must pay for this letter, for Dick has got your last with the direc- ’ 
 tion ; and any thing in his hands is irrecoverable 
 
 The health of Mrs. Sheridan, as we see 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 com- 
 plaint. That event, however, produced but a temporary inter- 
 mission 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 oeen 
 written at this period : — 
 
 ‘‘ My Dear Sheridan, 
 
 “ I was but too well prepared for the melancholy intelligence contained 
 
RIGHT HON. BIOHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 133 
 
 in your last letter, in answer to which, as Richardson will give you this, I 
 leave it to his kindness to do me justice in every sincere and affectionate 
 expression of my grief for your situation, and my entire readiness to obey 
 and further your wishes by every possible exertion. 
 
 It you have any possible opportunity, let me entreat you to remember 
 me to the dearest, tenderest friend and sister of my heart. Sustain yourself, 
 my dear Sheridan, 
 
 And believe me yours. 
 
 Most affectionately and faithfully, 
 
 R. Tickell.” 
 
 The circumstances of her death cannot better be told than in 
 the language of a lady whose name it would be an honor to. 
 mention, who, giving up all other cares and duties, accompanied 
 her dying friend to Bristol, and devoted herself, with a tender- 
 ness rarely equalled even among women, to 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 Lefanu"^ in her interesting Memoirs of her grandmother, 
 Mrs. Frances Sheridan. But their whole contents are so impor- 
 tant to the characters of the persons concerned, and so delicately 
 draw aside the veil from a scene of which sorrow and affection 
 were the only witnesses, that I feel myself justified not only in 
 repeating what has already been quoted, but in adding a few 
 more valuable particulars, which, by the kindness of the writer 
 and her correspondent, I am enabled to give from the same au- 
 thentic source. The letters are addressed to Mrs. H. Lefanu, the 
 ^second sister of Mr. Sheridan. 
 
 Bristol, June 1, 1792. 
 
 “ I am happy to have it in my power to give you any information on a 
 
 * The talents of this young lady are another proof of the sort of gavel-kind o( genius 
 allotted to the whole race of Sheridan. I find her very earliest poetical work, TheSyl- 
 phid Queen,’’ thus spoken of in a letter from the second Mrs. Sheridan to her mother, Mrs. 
 Lefanu: — “I should have acknowledged your very welcome present immediately, had 
 not Mr. Sheridan, on my telling him what it was, run off with it, and I have been in vain 
 endeavoring to get it from him ever since. What little I did read of it, I admired partic- 
 ularly ; but it will be much more gratifying to you and }mur daughter to hear that he 
 read it with tbs greatest attention, and tin ght it showed a great deal of irnaginaliou.” 
 
134 
 
 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 
 
 subject so interesting to you, and to all that have the happiness of knowing 
 dear Mrs. Sheridan ; though I am sorry to add, it cannot be such as will 
 relieve your anxiety, or abate your fears. The 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, as- 
 sured me ft’om the first that it was a lost case ; but as your brother seemed 
 unwilling to know the truth, he was not so explicit with him, and only re- 
 presented 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. 
 
 * * * 4: * * 4: * * 
 
 “ 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 great- 
 est composure. I am sure it will give you and Mr. Lefanu pleasure to 
 know that her mind is well prepared for any change that may happen, and 
 that she derives every comfort from religion that a sincere Christian can 
 look for.’’ 
 
 On the 28th of the same month Mrs. Sheridan died ; and a 
 letter from this lady, dated July 19th, thus touchingly describes 
 her last moments. As a companion-picture to the close of She- 
 ridan’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 affec- 
 tionate 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 19 , 1792 . 
 
 Our dear departed friend kept her bed only two days, and seemed to 
 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 us all that she had the 
 most perfect confidence in the mercies of an all-powerful and merciful Be- 
 ing, from whom alone she could have derived the inward comfort and sup- 
 port she felt at that awful moment ! She said, she had no fear of death, 
 
RIGHT HON. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 136 
 
 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 toler- 
 ably 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 in- 
 terview between him and the dear angel was afflicting and heart-breaking 
 to the greatest degree imaginable. I was afraid she would have sunk un- 
 der the cruel agitation -she said it was indeed too much for her. She 
 gave some kind injunction to each of them, and said everything 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 saw her more ! Mr. Sheri- 
 dan and I sat up all that night with her : — indeed he had done so for sev- 
 eral 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 him, ‘ If you can relieve me, do it 
 quickly ; — if not do not let me struggle, but give me some laudanum.’ 
 His answer was, ^ Then I will give you some laudanum.’ She desired to 
 see Tom and Betty Tickell before she took it, of whom she took a most af- 
 fecting leave ! Your brother behaved most wonderfully, though his heart 
 
 * This physician was Dr. Bain, then a very young man, whose friendship with Sheridan 
 began by this mournful duty to his wife, and only ended vnth the performance of the 
 same melancholy office for himself. As the writer of the above letters was not present 
 during the interview which she describes between him and Mrs. Sheridan, there are a few 
 slight errors in her account of what passed, the particulars of which, as related by Dr. 
 Bain himself, are as follows : — On his arrival, »Le begged of Sheridan and her female 
 friend to leave the room, and then, desiring him to lock the door after them, said, “You 
 have never deceived me : — tell me truly, shall T live over this night.” Dr. Bain imme- 
 diately felt her pulse, and, finding that she was dying, answered, “ I recommend you to 
 take sorne laudanum upon which she replied, “ I understand you : — then give it me.” 
 
 Dr. Bain fully concurs with the writer of these letters in bearing testimony to the ten- 
 derness 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 honor alike to the writer and the receiver : — 
 
 “ My Dear Sir, 
 
 “ 1 must request your acceptance of the inclosed for your professional attendance. 
 For the kind and friendly attentions, which have accompanied your efforts, I must remain 
 your debtor. The recollection of them will live in my mind with the memory of the dear 
 lost object, whose sufferings you soothed, and whose heart was grateful for it. 
 
 “ Believe me, 
 
 ^‘Dear Sir, 
 
 Very sincerely yours, 
 
 ^ Friday nighU B, Shhiipm,” 
 
186 
 
 MEMOIES OF THE LIFE OF THE 
 
 was breaking ; and at times bis feelings were so violent, that I feared be 
 would have been quite ungovernable at the last. Yet he summoned up 
 courage to kneel by the bed-side, till be felt the last pulse of expiring excel- 
 lence, and then withdrew. She died at five o’clock in the morning, 28tb 
 of June. 
 
 I hope, my dear Mrs. Lefanu, you will excuse my dwelling on this most 
 agonizing 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 confiict — much as 
 I have suffered on my own account. While I live, the remembrance 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 7 th instant Mr. Sheridan and Tom, accompanied by all her family (ex- 
 cept Mrs. Linley), Mr. and Mrs. Leigh, Betty Tickell and myself, attended 
 the dear remains* to Wells, where we saw her laid beside her beloved sis- 
 ter 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 manner. 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 
 choosing 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. 
 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 melancholy 
 refiections, with no other companions but his two children, in whom he 
 seems at present entirely wrapped up. He suffered a great deal in return- 
 ing the same road, and was most dreadfully agitated on his arrival at Isle- 
 worth. His grief is deep and sincere, and I 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 : — he cannot bear to be a moment with- 
 out her. She thrives amazingly, and is indeed a charming little creature. 
 
 * The following striking reflection, which I have found upon a scrap of paper, in Sheri- 
 dan’s handwriting, w’tis suggested, no doubt, by his feelings on this occasion : — 
 
 “ The loss of the breath from a beloved object, long suffering in pain and certainly to 
 die, is not so great a privation as the last loss of her beautiful remains, if they remain 
 su. The victory of the Grave is sharper than the Sting of Death.” 
 
RIGHT HON. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDaN. 187 
 
 Tom behaves with constant and tender attention to his father : — he laments 
 Ids dear mother sincerely, and at the time was violently 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 melancholy 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 the mention which is made, in this affecting letter, of the 
 father 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 attach- 
 ing powers, and prove how affectionate he must have been to her 
 who was gone, to be thus 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, and he has no 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 grandchildren.”! 
 
 ♦ In 1778 his eldest son 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. 
 
 I have erroneously stated, in a former part of this work, that Mr. William Linley is the 
 only surviving branch of this famuly ; — there is another brother, Mr. Ozias Linley, si’il 
 living. 
 
 t 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 represented by Palmer and Miss Far- 
 ren, — 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 sup- 
 pressed. His tears fell fast — nor did he weep alone.” 
 
 In the same work Mrs. Crouch is made to say that, after Miss Maria Linley died, it was 
 melancholy for her to sing to Mr. Linley, whose tears continually fell on the keys as he ac- 
 companied her ; and if, in the course of her profession, she was obliged to practise a 
 
138 
 
 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 
 
 Towards the autumn, (as we learn from another letter of this 
 lady,) Mr. Sheridan endeavored to form a domestic establish- 
 ment for himself at Wanstead. 
 
 Wanstead, October 22, 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 pro- 
 tection. This was the dying request, of my beloved friend ; and the last 
 effort of her mind and pen* was mad ? the day before she expired, to draw 
 up a solemn promise for both of us to sign, to ensure the strict perform- 
 ance 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 an- 
 gelic, 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. 
 
 To return to your brother, he talks of having his house here immediately 
 
 song which ne 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 af- 
 fected him to such a degree, that he was frequently forced to quit the instrument and 
 walk about the room to recover his composure. 
 
 * 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 
 Teached him in India : — 
 
 “ Oh most beloved ! my sister and my friend i 
 
 While kindred woes still breathe around thine urn. 
 
 Long with the tear of absence must I blend 
 The sigh, that speaks thou never shalt return. 
 
 * « 4 : « * * 
 
 f‘ ’Twas Faith, that, bending o’er the bed of death, 
 
 Shot o’er thy pallid cheek a transient ray, 
 
 With softer effort soothed thy laboring breath. 
 
 Gave grace to anguish, beauty to decay. 
 
 “ Thy friends, thy children, claim’d thy latest care , 
 
 Theirs was the last that to thy lx)som clunj, ; 
 
 For them to heaven thou sent’st the expiring prayer, 
 
 The last that falter’d on thy irerahling tongue.” 
 
EIGHT HON. RICHAED BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 139 
 
 fiirnished 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 no show or expense. I understand he has taken 
 a house in Jermyn-street, where he may see conpany, but he does not in- 
 tend 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 pfi^sent what his determina- 
 tions 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 impossible 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 I saw him, which was for about five minutes, I thought he looked re- 
 markably well, and seemed tolerably cheerful. But I have observed in gen- 
 eral that this affliction has made a wonderful alteration in the expression 
 of his countenance and in his manners.* The Leighs and my family spent a 
 week with him at Isleworth the beginning of August, where we were in- 
 deed most affectionately and hospitably entertained. I could hardly believe 
 him to be the same man. In fact, we never saw him do the honors of his 
 house before ; that, you know, he always left 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 of those whom she loved, and who, he knew, 
 sincerely loved her. We all thought he never appeared to such advantage. 
 He was attentive to every body and every thing, though grave and thought- 
 ful ; 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 de- 
 sired 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 her fausse montre, containing Mr. 
 Sheridan’s picture to you,f — Mrs. Joseph Lefanu having got hers. She left 
 rings also to Mr. and Mrs. Leigh, my sister, daughter, and myself, and posi- 
 tively 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, turn- 
 
 * I have heard a Noble friend of Sheridan say that, happening about this time to sleep 
 in the room next to him, he could plainly hear him sobbing throughout the greater part 
 of the night. 
 
 f This bequest is thus announced by Sheridan himself in a letter to his sister, dated 
 June 3, 1794 : — “ I mean also to send by Miss Patrick a picture which has long been your 
 property, by a bequest from one whose image i§ not often from my mind, and whose 
 memory, I am sure, remains in yours ” 
 
140 
 
 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 
 
 ed from them all in disgust, and I observed, during her illness, never men- 
 tioned any of them with regard or kindness,’’ 
 
 The consolation which Sheridan derived from his little daugh- 
 ter was not long spared to him. In a letter, without a date, 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 broth- 
 er’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 dying. 
 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 v/ere 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 re- 
 membrance. In this manner he indulged his feelings for four or five days j 
 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. BuL however he may assume the appearance of ease or cheerful- 
 ness, 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 fore- 
 going 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 favorable to the char- 
 acters both of husband and wife. There is, round the w'hole. 
 
KiGHT HON, RiCHARb BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 141 
 
 au atmosphere of kindly, domestic feeling, which seems to answer 
 for the soundness of the hearts that breathed in it. The sen- 
 sibility, too, 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 mellow- 
 ness in his sorrow which could proceed from long habits of affec- 
 tion 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, were the natural feelings and dis- 
 positions of Sheridan ; and if the vanity of talent too often turned 
 him aside from their influence, it is but another proof of the dan- 
 ger of that “ light which leads astray,” and may console those who, 
 safe under the shadow of mediocrity, are unvisited by such dis 
 turbing splendors. 
 
 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 dearest Brother, 
 
 Charles has just informed me that the fatal, the dreaded event has 
 taken place. On my knees I implore the Almighty to look down upon 
 you in your affliction, to strengthen your noble, your 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 happy frame of 
 mind : she is assuredly among the blest ; and I feel and I think she looks 
 down with benignity at my feeble efforts to soothe that anguish I parti- 
 cipate. Let me then conjure you, my dear brother, to suffer me to en- 
 deavor to be of use to you. Could I have done it, I should have been with 
 yoa from the time of your arrival at Bristol. The impossibility of my 
 gx^ng has made me miserable, and injured my health, already in a very bad 
 btate. It would give value to my life, could I be of that service I think I 
 jixght 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 before you, perhaps 
 
142 
 
 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 
 
 you may let us have the happiness of having you here, and my dear Tom ; 
 I will write to him when my spirits are quieter. I entreat you, my dear 
 brother, try what change of place can do for you : your character and ta- 
 lents 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, ^th July, A. Lefanu.’’ 
 
 My dear good Sir, Wednesday, Uh 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 are 
 yet too keen and too fresh to be entertained with safety, — at least to occupy 
 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 occa- 
 sions 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 company and conversation as would restore you to your- 
 self sooner than any thing that could be imagined. Come, then, my dear 
 Sir, and be satisfied you will add greatly to her comfort, and to that of 
 your very affectionate friend, J. Lefamj.’’ 
 
lUGHT HON. KICHAED BEINgLElT gHERIDAN. l4S 
 
 OHAPTEE VI 
 
 DRUEY-LANE THEATRE. — SOCIETY OF ‘‘ THE FRIENDS 
 OF THE PEOPLE.” — MADAME DE GENLIS. — WAR WITH 
 FRANCE. — WHIG SECEDERS. — SPEECHES IN PARLIA- 
 MENT. — 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 appre- 
 hensions for the safety of Mrs. Sheridan, he had been for some 
 time harassed by the derangement of his theatrical property, 
 which was now fast falling into a state of arrear and involvement, 
 from which it never after entirely recovered. 
 
 The Theatre of Drury-Lane having been, in the precedmg 
 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 pro- 
 posal 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, on whom the Theatre was afterwards 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 completion of 
 the new building was delayed by various negotiations and ob- 
 stacles, while, in the mean time, the company were playing, at an 
 enormous expense, first in the Opera-House, and afterwards at 
 the Haymarket-Theatre, and Mr. Sheridan and Mr. Linley were 
 paying interest for the first instalment of the loan. * 
 
144 
 
 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF 'ME 
 
 To these and other causes of the increasing embarrassments ot 
 Sheridan is to be added the extravagance of his own style of 
 living, which became much more careless and profuse after death 
 had deprived him of her, whose maternal thoughtfulness alone 
 would have been a check upon such improvident waste. We 
 are enabled to form some idea of his expensive Jiabits, by find- 
 ing, from the letters which have just been quoted, that he was, at 
 the same time, maintaining’ three establishments, — one at Wan- 
 stead, where his son resided with his tutor; another at Isleworth, 
 which he still held, (as I learn from letters directed to him there,) 
 in 1793 ; and the third, his town-house, in Jermyn-StreQt. Rich 
 and ready as w^ere the resources which the Treasury of the theatre 
 opened to him, and fertile as was his own invention in devising 
 new schemes of finance, such mismanaged expenditure would ex- 
 haust 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 dis- 
 tinguished 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 fol- 
 lowing 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 convenience about these things ; for my con- 
 nection with you is that of friendship and personal regard. I 
 feel and remember slights from those I respect, but acts of kind- 
 ness I cannot forget ; and, though my life has been passed far 
 more in doing than receiving services, yet 1 know and I value the 
 
KIGHT HON. RICHARD BRINSLEV^ SHERIDAN. 145 
 
 good dispositions of yourself and a few other friends, — men who 
 are worthy of that name from me. 
 
 “ If you choose Tom to return, he knows and you know how 
 glad I am always to see him. If not, pray let him do something, 
 and I will tell you what he 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 
 Parliamentary 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, &c., 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 pe- 
 riod on the subject of Reform, that he withheld the sanction of 
 his name from a Society, to which 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 Honorable 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 definite explanation of the cir- 
 cumstance. “ 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 grievances, he did not see the 
 remedy.” It is to be doubted, indeed, whether Mr. Fox ever fully 
 admitted the principle upon which the demand for a Reform was 
 
1^6 
 
 MEMOIRS OP THE LIFE OF THE 
 
 founded. When he afterwards espoused the question so warmly, 
 it seems to have been merely as one of those weapons caught up 
 m the heat of a warfare, in which Liberty itself appeared to him 
 too imminently endangered to admit of the consideration of any 
 abstract principle, except that summary one of the right of resist- 
 ance to power abused. From what has been already said, too, 
 of the language held by Sheridan on this subject, it may be con- 
 cluded that, though far more ready than his friend to inscribe 
 Reform upon the banner of the party, 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 
 improbability of its obj 3cts 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 incon- 
 venience of any of the practical details. 
 
 The following extract of a letter from Sheridan to one of his 
 female correspondents, at this time, will show that he did not 
 quite approve the policy of Mr. F ox in holding aloof from the 
 Reformers : — 
 
 I am dovn'i here with Mrs. 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 but what is unpleasant before my mind. I 
 wish to occupy and fill my thoughts with public matters, and to 
 do justice to the times, they afford materials enough ; but nothing 
 is in prospect to make activity pleasant, or to point one’s efforts 
 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. Windham has signed a non- 
 sensical association with Lord Mulgrave ; and when I left town 
 yesterday, I was informed that the Divan^ as the meeting at 
 Debrett’s is called, were furious at an authentic advertisement 
 from the Duke of Portland against Charles Fox’s speech in the 
 
EIGHT HOH. EICHARD BE-IHSLEY SHKRlDAISr. 14:7 
 
 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 w^hat 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 for- 
 ward this year by Mr. Wilberforce, (on whose brows it may be 
 said, with much more truth than of the Roman General, “ Annexuit 
 Africa Zawros,”) was signalized by one of the most splendid orations 
 that the lofty eloquence of Mr. Pitt ever poured forth."^ I men- 
 tion the Debate, however, for the mere purpose of remarking, 
 as a singularity, 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 occa- 
 sion 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, how- 
 ever, which he did speak on that occasion were sufficient to prove, 
 (what, as he was not a W est-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 himself applied to ano- 
 ther 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 earned.’ ^ 
 
 ♦ It was at the conclusion of this speech that, in contemplating the period when Africa 
 would, he hoped, participate in those blessings of civilization and knowledge which 
 were now enjoyed by more fortunate regions, he applied the happy quotation, rendered 
 still more striking, it is said, by the circumstance of the rising sun just then shining m 
 through the windows of the House : — 
 
 Nos primus equis Oriens afflavit cmheliSy 
 
 Illic sera rvhens accendit lumina Vesper 
 
148 
 
 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 
 
 The National Convention having lately, in the first paroxysm 
 of their republican vanity, conferred the honor of Citizenship 
 upon several distinguished Englishmen, and, among others, up- 
 on Mr. Wilberforce and Sir James Mackintosh, it was intended, 
 as appears by the following letter from Mr. Stone, (a gentleman 
 subsequently brought into notice by the trial of his brother for 
 High Treason,) to invest Mr. Fox and Mr. Sheridan with the 
 same distinction, had not the prudent interference of Mr. 
 Stone saved them from this very questionable honor. 
 
 The following is the letter which this gentleman addressed to 
 Sheridan on the occasion. 
 
 “Pam, Nov. 18, Tear 1, of the French Eepublic. 
 
 “Dear Sir, 
 
 “ I have taken a liberty with your name, of which I ought to 
 give you notice, and offer some apology. The Convention hav- 
 ing 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 Eeport has determined to offer you to and Mr. Fox the honor 
 of Citizenship. Had this honor 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 honored in the 
 breach than the observance, and have therefore caused your 
 nomination to be suspended. But 1 was influenced in this also 
 by other considerations, 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 
 honors with such as would be chosen. But another more im- 
 
RIGHT HON. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 
 
 149 
 
 portant 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. Ko 
 one will suspect Mr. Wilberforce of being seduced, and no one 
 has thought that he did any thing to render him liable to seduc- 
 tion ; as his superstition and devotedness to Mr. Pitt have kept 
 him perfectly a Vdbri from all temptations 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 conduct,! 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 favor 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 suflicient time for me to receive your answer, as I 
 have prevailed on the Reporter, M. 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 ISTational Convention. 
 
 “I have the honor to be 
 
 “Your most obedient 
 
 “And most humble servant, 
 
 “ J. H. Stone.” 
 
 It was in the month of October of this year that the romantic 
 adventure of Madame de Genlis, (in the contrivance of which 
 the practical humor of Sheridan may, I think, be detected,) oc- 
 curred on the road between London and Hartford. This disi- 
 
150 
 
 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 
 
 tinguished lady had, at the close of the year 1791, with a view 
 of escaping the turbulent scenes then passing in France, come 
 over with her illustrious pupil, Mademoiselle d’ Orleans, and her 
 adopted daughter, Pamela,^ to England, where she received both 
 from Mr. Fox and Mr. Sheridan, all that attention to 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 : — 
 
 “ Sir, 
 
 “ 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 
 such a person that I could offer 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 
 v\muld render me the most important service. To calm the most 
 cruel agitation of a sensible and grateful soul shall be your re- 
 ward. — Oh could I see you but a minute ! — I am uneasy, sick, 
 unhappy ; surrounded by the 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 mo- 
 ment ; there is only two names in which I could place my confi- 
 
 * Married at Tournay in the month of December, 1792, to Lord Edward Fitzgerald 
 Lord Edward was the only one, among the numerous suitors of Mrs. Sheridan, to whom 
 she is supposed to have listened with any thing like a return of feeling ; and that there 
 should be mutual admiration between two such noble specimens 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 beautiful French girl whom he had lately seen, and added that she put 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 T am dead, to marry that girl.” This was Pamela, whcm Sheridan 
 had just seen during his visit of a few hours to Madame de Genlis, at Bury, in Suffolk, and 
 whom Lord Edward rriarried in about a year after. 
 
RIGHT HON. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 
 
 151 
 
 dence and my hopes. Pardon this bad language. As Hypolite 
 I may say, 
 
 “ ^Songez que je vous farle une langue Stranghre^ 
 but the feelings it expresses cannot be strangers to y'our heart. 
 
 “ Sans avoir I’avantage d’etre connue de Monsieur Pox, je 
 prens la liberte de le supplier de comuniquer cette lettre a Mr. 
 Sheridan, et si ce dernier n’est pas a Londres, j’ose esperer de 
 Monsieur Pox la meme bonte que j’attendois de Mr. Sheridan 
 dans I’embarras ou je me trouve. Je m’adresse aux deux per- 
 sonnes de I’Angleterre que j ’admire le plus, et je serois double- 
 ment heureuse d’etre tiree de cette perplexite et de leur en avoir 
 robligation. Je serai peut etre a Londres incessament. Je de- 
 sirerois vivement les y trouver ; mais en attendant je souhaite 
 avec ardeur avoir ici le plus promptement possible I’homme de 
 loi, ou seulement en etat de donner de bons conseils que je de- 
 mand e. Je renouvelle toutes mes excuses de tant d’importu- 
 nites.” 
 
 It was on her departure for Prance 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 Dart- 
 ford are promoted 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 inci- 
 dents, as she mentions, in another place, her terrors at the idea 
 of “crossing the desert plains of Newmarket without an es- 
 cort.” 
 
 We left London,’’ says Madame de Genlis, “ on our return to France 
 the 20th 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 add- 
 ing 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 carriages, 
 one with six horses, and the other, in which were our maids, with four. I 
 
152 
 
 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 
 
 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 never 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 remark to me, I perceived it also. 
 The postillions, on being questioned, said th^it 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 ex- 
 treme 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 companions and 
 I began to look at each other with a mixture of surprise and uneasiness. 
 We renewed our inquiries, 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 but two miles 
 to go before we should reach Dartford. It appeared to us very strange 
 that people should lose their way between London and Dover, but the as- 
 surance that we were only half a league from Dartford dispelled the sort of 
 vague fear that had for a moment agitated 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 difSculty that I made the post-boys stop opposite a small 
 village which lay 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. Conceal 
 ing my suspicions, I took a guide in the village, and declared that it waa 
 my wush 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 with 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 the 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 
 
RIGHT HON. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAB. 153 
 
 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 very confused way, 
 but confessed that an unknown gentleman had come in the morning to 
 their masters, and carrying them from thence to a public-house, had. by giv- 
 ing them something to drink, persuaded them to take the road by which we 
 had gone. The examination was continued for a long time, but no further 
 confession could be drawn from them. Mi*. Sheridan told me, that there 
 was sufficient proof on which to ground an action against these men, but 
 that it would be a tedious process, and cost a great deal of money. The 
 post-boys were therefore dismissed, and we did not pursue the inquiry any 
 further. 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 him- 
 self, 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 remained 
 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 
 the same time, in our minds of the boyish propensity of Sheri- 
 dan to what are called practical jokes, without strongly suspect- 
 ing that he was himself the contriver of the whole adventure. 
 The ready attendance of the Justice, — the ‘‘ unknown gentleman” 
 deposed to by the post-boys, — the disappearance of the laquais, 
 and the advice given by Sheridan that the affair should be pur- 
 sued no further, — all strongly savor of dramatic contrivance, and 
 must have afforded 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 ex- 
 plains it ; nor could his conscience have felt much scruples about 
 an imposture, which, so far from being attended with anydisagreea 
 ble consequences, furnished 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.* 
 
 * In the Memoirs of Mad. de Genlis, laip^.- oublislied, she supplies a still more intereet 
 
154 
 
 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 
 
 At the end of the month, (adds Madame de Genlis,) 
 
 “ Mr. Sheridan having finished his business, we set oif together for Hover, 
 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 No- 
 vember, 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 unfavorable, but still blew so violently that nobody would advise 
 me to embark. I resolved, however, to venture, and Mr. Sheridan attend- 
 ed us into the very packet-boat, where I received his farewell witli a feel- 
 ing of sadness which I cannot express. He would have crossed with us. 
 but that some indispensable duty, at that moment, required his presence in 
 England. He, however, left us Mr. Reid, who had the goodness to accom- 
 pany 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 dispassion- 
 ate minds any hope of averting the war entirely, or even of 
 postponing it for any considerable period. Indeed, however 
 rational at first might have been the expectation, that France, if 
 left to pass through the ferment of her own Revolution, would 
 have either settled at last into a less dangerous form of power, 
 or exhausted herself into a state of harmlessness during the pro- 
 cess, this hope had been for some time frustrated by the crusade 
 proclaimed against her liberties by the confederated Princes of 
 Europe. The conference at Pilnitz 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 
 
 ing 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 depar- 
 ture from England, the following scene took place “ Two days before we set out, Mr. 
 Sheridan made, in my presence, his declaration of love to Pamela, who was affected by 
 hia agreeable manner and high character, and accepted the offer of his hand with plea- 
 sure. In consequence of this, it was settled that he was to marry her on our return from 
 France, which was expected to take place in a fortnight.” I suspect this to be but a 
 continuation of the Romance of Dartford. 
 
RIGHT HON. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 156 
 
 and direction outwards that transferred all the ruin to her ene- 
 mies. In the wild career of aggression and lawlessness, of con- 
 quest without, and anarchy within, which naturally followed 
 such an outbreak of a whole maddened people, it would 
 have been difficult for England, 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 m with the great 
 discords of the world. 
 
 That Mr. Pitt himself was slow and reluctant to yield to the 
 necessity 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 mutterings of the earthquake, 
 seemed but little indicative of that philosophic sagacity, which 
 enables a statesman to see the rudiments of the Future in the 
 Present."^ “It is not unreasonable,” said he on the 21st of 
 February, 1792, “to expect that the peace v/hich we now enjoy 
 should continue at least fifteen years, since at no period of the 
 British history, whether we consider 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 200,000/. 
 a year, made considerable reductions in the naval and military 
 establishments, and allowed the Hessian Subsidy to expire, with- 
 out any movement towards its renewal. He likewise showed 
 his perfect confidence in the tranquillity of the country, by break- 
 
 * Frotn 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 reduction of our Peace Establishment in the year 1791, and continued 
 to the subsequent year, is a fact, from which the inference is indisputable ; a fact, which, 
 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 creduloqfl 
 security, which wisdom and discretion would not have dictated,’^ 
 
166 
 
 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 
 
 ing 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. — saying, in answer to their demand of a larger bonus 
 than he thought proper to give, “ Then we will put off the re- 
 duction 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 t 
 w^hich he looked as a proof of 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 this 
 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. That in this minority, (which was, 
 with few exceptions, confined to the lower classes,) the elements 
 of sedition and insurrection were actively at work, cannot be de- 
 nied. There was not a corner of Europe where the same ingre- 
 dients were not brought into ferment ; for the French Revolu- 
 tion 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 sup 
 pression. 
 
 The admiration, indeed, 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 
 RpvrJiition was still felt among the few Whigs that repiaineA 
 
KlGHl^ HOJSr. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. l57 
 
 the profession of its wild, republican theories was chiefly con- 
 fined to two classes of persons, who coincide more frequently 
 than they themselves imagine, — the speculative and the ig- 
 norant. 
 
 The Minister, however, gave way to a panic which, there is 
 every reason to believe, he did not liimself participate, and in 
 going out of the precincts of the Constitution for new and ar- 
 bitrary 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 ravings of club politicians — that vehement 
 reaction of feeling on the part of Mr. Fox and his followers, 
 w'hich increased with the increasing rigor of the 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 justified. 
 
 The great promoters of the alarm were Mr. Burke, and those 
 other Whig Seceders, who had for some time taken part with 
 the administration 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 exaggerated ; and the eagerness with which they called for 
 restrictions upon the liberty of the subject was but too worthy 
 of deserters not only from their post but from their principles. 
 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 interference whatever with her internal 
 affairs, was the sole aim to which hostilities should be directed ; 
 while nothing less than the restoration of the Bourbons to the 
 power which they possessed before the assembling of the Etats 
 Genereaux 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 suspicious sup- 
 
168 
 
 MEMOIRS OP THE LIFE OP THE 
 
 plement 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 parties 
 considered, 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 vigor 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 Prance excited 
 not only among the Continental 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 extremities, in what Mr. Windham called 
 ‘‘ a war upon sugar Islands,” was a waste of means as unstates- 
 manlike as it was calamitous, and fully entitled Mr. Pitt to the 
 satire on his policy, conveyed In the remark of a certain distin- 
 guished lady, who said to him, upon hearing of some new acqui- 
 sition in the W est Indies, “ I protest, Mr. Pitt, if you go on thus, 
 you will soon be master of every island in the world except just 
 those two little ones, England and Ireland.”* 
 
 That such was the light in which Mr. Sheridan himself viewed 
 the mode of carrying on the war recommended by the Alarm- 
 ists, 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 Honorable Friend near 
 ♦ Mr. Sheridan quoted this anecdote in one of his speeches in 1794. 
 
EIGHT HON. BtCHARi) BRtNSLET SHERIDAN. 159 
 
 him, (Mr. Windham,) and Mr. Burke, who since the Revolution of France 
 had formed adequate notions of the necessary steps to be taken. The va- 
 rious governments which this country had seen during that period were 
 always employed in filching for a sugar-island, or some other object of 
 comparatively trifiing moment, while the main and principal purpose was 
 lost and forgotten.’^ 
 
 Whatever were the failures of Mr. Pitt abroad, at home his 
 ascendancy was fixed and indisputable ; and, among all the tri- 
 umphs 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 Pevolution, could not 
 have been the least gratifying 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. Plis own estimate of rank may be fairly col- 
 lected both from the indifference which he showed to its honors 
 himself, and from the depreciating profusion with which he lav- 
 ished them 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 
 try the experiment, whether safety might not have been recon 
 cilAle 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 fol- 
 lowed — nor would the Opposition, accordingly, have been driven 
 by these excesses of power into that reactive violence which was 
 the natural consequence of an effort to resist them. The pru- 
 dent apprehensions, therefore, of these Noble Whigs would have 
 been much more usefully as well as honorably employed, in 
 mingling with, and moderating the proceedings of the friends of 
 Liberty, than in ministering fresh fuel to the zeal and vindictive* 
 ness of her enemies.^ 
 
 ♦ The case against these Noble Seceders is thus spiritedly stated by Ix>rd 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 coun* 
 
160 
 
 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 
 
 It may be added, too, that in allowing themselves to be per- 
 suaded by Burke, that the extinction of the ancient Noblesse of 
 France protended necessarily any danger to the English Aris- 
 tocracy, 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 state of double responsibility to liberty on one 
 side, and authority on the other, the Aristocracy of England hold 
 a station w^hich 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 off- 
 spring, 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 
 below him by private as w^ell 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 ele- 
 ments aloft into that higher region, to mingle with its glories 
 and assert their claim to a share in its powrer. By this mutual 
 transfusion an equilibrium is preserved, like that w’hich 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, with- 
 out much stronger grounds for alarm than appear to have existed 
 in 1793, was an injustice not only to that class itself, but the 
 
 try than any man on the political stag^e. By his union with Mr. Pitt he has 
 given it to be understood by the people, that either all the constitutional 
 charges which he and his friends for so many years urged against Mr. Pitt 
 were groundless, or that, being solid, there was no difficulty in waving them 
 when a convenient partition of powers and emoluments was proposed. In 
 either case the people must infer that the constitutional principle which can 
 be so played with is unimportant, and that parliamentary professions are no 
 security .” — Ljcttcr f rom the Eavl of Moirci to Colonel M* Methon^ Po/r-^ 
 
 liamentary History. 
 
HIGHT HON. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN^.' 161 
 
 whole nation. The world has never yet afforded an example, 
 where this artificial distinction between mankind has been turned 
 to such beneficial 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 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 experimeno 
 of her Constitution ; and. while there is no chance of its being 
 ever again attained in the Old World, there is but little proba- 
 bility of its being attempted in the New, — where the youthful 
 nations now springing into life, will, if they are wise, make the 
 most of the free career before them, and unencumbered with the 
 costly trappings of feudalism, adopt, like their northern neigh- 
 bors, that form of government, w'hose 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 partisans, 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 opinicn, it by no 
 means lemoves or even weakens the grounds of the latter. 
 During the first nine years of his administration, Mr. Pitt was, 
 in every respect, an able and most useful minister, and, “ while 
 the sea was calm, showed mastership in floating.’* But the great 
 events that happened 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 statesmen was wanting. Instead of elevating 
 himself above the influence of the agitation and alarm that pre- 
 vailed, he gave way to it with the crowd of ordinary minds, 
 and even took counsel from the panic of others. The conse- 
 quence was a series of measures, violent at home and inefficient 
 abroad — far short of the mark where vigor was wanting, and 
 beyond it, as often, where vigor was mischievous. 
 
 When we are told to regard his policy as the salvation of the 
 country — when, (to use a figure of Mr. Dundas,) a claim of 
 
162 
 
 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF T TtF 
 
 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 consisten- 
 cy of plan, or preparation of means, and with a total ignorance 
 of the financial resources of the enemy*— if allowing one part of 
 the Cabinet to flatter the French Koyalists, 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 the very moment of subsidiz- 
 ing him, and lost the confidence of all the Eoyalist party in 
 France,! except the few who were ruined by English assistance 
 at Quiberon— 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 Sink- 
 ing 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 encounter, 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 he 
 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, back- 
 ward, 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 
 
 ♦ Into his erroneous calculations upon this point he is supposed to have 
 been led by Sir Francis D’lvernois. 
 
 + Among other instances, the Abbe Maury is reported to have said at 
 Rome in a large company of his countrymen— “ Still we have one remedy- 
 let us not allow France to be divided— we have seen the partition of Poland; 
 we must all turn Jacobins to preserve our country.” 
 
RIGHT HOH. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 163 
 
 the imroediate result of this long monotony of error, it could not, 
 except with those to whom the event is every thing — “ EventuSy 
 stultorum magisier — 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 conse- 
 quences of folly. Just as well might we be called upon to pro- 
 nounce Alchemy a wise art, because a perseverance in its failures 
 and reveries had led by accident to the discoveries of Chemistry. 
 But even this sanction of good-luck was wanting to the unredeem- 
 ed mistakes of Mr. Pitt. During the eight years that intervened 
 between his death and the termination of the contest, the adop- 
 tion of a far wiser policy 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 griev- 
 ance that was then abated — of having raised up the power op- 
 posed to him to the portentous and dizzy height, from which it 
 then fell by the giddiness of its own elevation,]* and by the re- 
 action, 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 — 
 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 res- 
 pective 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 for a season, he would 
 
 ♦ A saying of the wise Fabius. 
 
 f summisque negdtum 
 
 Stare diu.^* 
 
 Lucan. 
 
164 
 
 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 
 
 have known how to veil the statue of Liberty,* 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 patrician alarm, which could even to Mr. 
 Pitt give an increase of momentum against liberty, and which 
 the possession of 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 persever- 
 ing 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 sine lege ruunt, altoque sub cethere jixis 
 Incur sant stellis^ rapiuntque per avia cu,rrumP 
 
 Where’er the impulse drives, they hurst away 
 In lawless grandeur ; — break into the array 
 Of the fix’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 parlia 
 mentary campaigns that followed. The sort of guerilla warfa 
 which he and the rest of the small band attached to Mr. F 
 carried on, during this period, against the invaders of the Con- 
 stitution, is interesting rather by its general character than its 
 detail ; for in these, as usual, the episodes of party personality 
 are found to encroach disproportionately on the main design, 
 and the grandeur of the cause, as viewed at a distance, becomes 
 diminished to our imaginations by too near an approach. Eng- 
 
 ♦ II y a des cos ou ilfaut mettre pour un moment un voile sur la LibertCj comme Von 
 cache les stalfues — ^Montebquieu, liv. xii. chup. 20. 
 
EIGHT HOJSr. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 165 
 
 lishmen, however, will long look back to that crisis with interest ; 
 and the names of Fox, of Sheridan, and of Grey will be affectionate- 
 ly remembered, when that'sort of false elevation, which party-feel- 
 ing 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 man- 
 kind, however they may be artificially buoyed up for the mo- 
 ment, 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 feelings, receives, 
 through all time, an accelerating impulse from the countless 
 hearts that go with :‘t in its course. Lord Chatham, even now, 
 supersedes his son in fame, and will leave him at an immeasura- 
 ble 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 memo- 
 rials among his papers. As an illustration, however, of his love 
 of betting — the only sort of gambling in which he ever indulged 
 — the following carious list of his wagers for the year is not 
 unamusing : — 
 
 2bth May, 1793. — Mr. Sheridan bets Gen. Fitzpatrick one hundred 
 guineas to fifty guineas, that within two years from this date some measure 
 is adopted in Parliament which shall be {bona fide) considered as the 
 adoption of a Parliamentary Reform. 
 
 “ 2SHh January, 1793. — Mr. S. bets Mr. Boothby Clopton five hundred 
 guineas, that there is a Reform in the Representation of the people of Eng- 
 land within three years from the date hereof. 
 
 “ 29/A 1793. — Mr. S. bets Mr. Hardy one hundred guineas to 
 fifty guineas, that Mr. W. Windham, does not represent Norwich at the next 
 general election. 
 
 29^A January, 1793.— Mr. S. bets Gen. Fitzpatrick fifty guineas, that a 
 corps of British troops are sent to Holland within two months of the date 
 hereof. 
 
 March) X793. — Mr. S. bets Lord Titchfield two hundred guineas, 
 
166 
 
 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 
 
 that the D. of Portland is' at the head of an Administration an or before 
 the 18th of March, 1796 : Mr. Fox to decide whether any place the Duke 
 may then fill shall bo7ia fide come within the meaning of this bet. 
 
 2^th March, 1793. — 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. 
 
 Mr. S. bets Gen. Tarleton one hundred guineas to fifty guineas, that Mr. 
 Pitt is first Lord of the Treasury on the 28th of May, 1795. — Mr. S. bets Mr. 
 A. St. John fifteen guineas to five guineas, ditto. — Mr. S. bets Lord 
 Sefton one hundred and forty guineas to forty guineas, ditto. 
 
 l^th 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 19th of March, 1795. 
 
 “ 18^/?. Ma.rch, 1793. — Lord Titchfield bets Mr. S. twenty-five guineas to 
 fifty guineas, that Mr. W, Windham represents Norwich at the next general 
 election. 
 
 As a sort of moral supplement to this strange list, and one 
 of those insights into character and conduct which it is the duty 
 a biographer to give, I shall subjoin a letter, connected evi- 
 dently with 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 1 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 I 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 ex- 
 tremely regret that I cannot at this juncture command the 
 money. 
 
EIGHT HON. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 
 
 167 
 
 “ At the same time that I regret your being put to any incon 
 renience by this delay, I cannot help adverting to the circum- 
 stance which perhaps misled me into the expectation that you 
 would not unwillingly allow me any reasonable time I might 
 want for the payment of this bet. The circumstance I mean, 
 however discreditable the plea, is the total inebriety of some of 
 the party, particularly of myself, when I made this preposterous 
 bet. I doubt not you will remember having yourself observed 
 on this circumstance to a common friend the next day, with an 
 intimation that you should not object to being off ; 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 practice, — I certainly should have 
 proposed the cancelling it, but that, from the intimation impart- 
 ed to me, I hoped the proposition might come from you. 
 
 “ I hope I need not for a moment beg you not to imagine 
 that I am now alluding to these circumstances as the slightest invali- 
 dation of your due. So much the contrary, that I most per- 
 fectly admit that from your not having heard any thing further 
 from me on the subject, and especially 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 100/. 
 on another bet won by me. 
 
 “Having, I think, put this point very fairly, 1 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 conceiving that, w^henever I should state 
 what was my^ real wish the day^ after the bet w^as 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 my- 
 self the next morning. 
 
 “ I have said more perhaps on the subject than can be neces- 
 
168 
 
 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 
 
 sary ; but I should regret to appear negligent to an application 
 for a just claim. 
 
 “ I have the honor to be, 
 
 “ Sir, 
 
 Your obedient servant, 
 
 ^'’Hertford St Feb, 26. “ E. B. Sheridan.” 
 
 Of the public transactions of Sheridan at this time, his speeches 
 are the best record. To them, therefore, I shall henceforward 
 principally refer my readers, — premising, that though the reports 
 of his latter speeches are somewhat better, in general, than those 
 of his earlier displays, they still do great injustice to his powers, 
 and exhibit little more than the mere Torso of his eloquence, 
 curtailed of all those accessories that lent motion and beauty to 
 its form. The attempts to give the terseness of his wit particu- 
 larly fail, and are a strong illustration of what he himself once 
 said to Lord * That Nobleman, who among his many jk- 
 cellent qualities does not include a very lively sense of humor^ 
 having exclaimed, upon hearing some good anecdote from Sheri- 
 dan, “ 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 matter in your 
 mouth.” 
 
 It is, indeed, singular, that all the eminent English orators — 
 with the 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 effusions, we should have lost that masterly 
 burst of the moment, to which the clemency of Csesar towards 
 Marcellus gave birth. The beautiful fragments we have of Lord 
 Chatham are rather traditional than recorded ; — there are but 
 two, I believe, of the speeches of Mr. Pitt corrected by 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 huown ^th certainty to have pass wnde| 
 
RIGHT HOK. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 
 
 169 
 
 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 opportuni- 
 ties of expressing his disgust at that spirit of ferocity which had 
 so deeply disgraced the cause of the Kevolution. So earnest was 
 his interest in the fate of the Eoyal 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 endeavoring to avert, by the influence of his own 
 name and that of Mr. Fox, the catastrophe that awaited those 
 Koyal victims of liberty. Of this interesting document I cannot 
 discover any traces. 
 
 In one of his answers to Burke on the subject of the French 
 Eevolution, adverting to the charge of Deism and Atheism 
 brought against the republicans, he says, 
 
 “As an argrument to the feelings and passions of men, the Honorable 
 Member had great advantages in dwelling on this topic ; because it was a 
 subject which those who disliked everything that had the air of cant and 
 profession on the one hand, or of indifference on the other, found it awk- 
 ward to meddle with. Establishments, tests, and matters of that nature, 
 were proper objects of political discussion in that House, but not general 
 charges of Atheism and Deism, as pressed upon their consideration by the 
 Honorable Gentleman. Thus far, however, he would say, and it was an 
 opinion he had never changed or concealed, that, although no man can 
 command his conviction, he had ever considered a deliberate disposition to 
 make proselytes in infidelity as an unaccountable depravity. Whoever at- 
 tempted to pluck the belief or the prejudice on this subject, style it which 
 he would, from the bosom of one man, woman, or child, committed a bru- 
 tal outrage, the motive for which he had never been able to trace or con- 
 ceive.** 
 
 I quote these words as creditable to the feeling and good 
 sense of Sheridan. Whatever may be thought of particular 
 faiths and sects, a beiief 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 prosely tism of the Atheist is, indeed, a dismal 
 II, § 
 
170 
 
 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 
 
 mission. That believers, who have each the same heaven in 
 prospect, should invite us to join them on their respective ways 
 to it, is at least a benevolent officiousness, — 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 Satur- 
 day 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 beneficial 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 at Cornhill a Debating So' 
 ciety, where principles of the most dangerous tendency were propagated ; 
 where people went to buy treason at sixpence a head ; where it was retail- 
 ed to them by the glimmering of an inch of candle ; and five minutes, to be 
 measured by the glass, w^ere 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 
 time known to be the organ of the Alarmists. “ There was one 
 paper,” he remarked, “ in particular, said to be the property of 
 members of that House, and published and conducted under their 
 immediate direction, which had for its motto a garbled part of a 
 beautiful sentence, when it might, with much more propriety, 
 have assumed the whole — 
 
 “ Solem quis dicer e falsum 
 Audeat ? llle etiam ccecos instare tumultus 
 JScepe monetf fraudemque et operta tumescere bella.'^ 
 
 Among the subjects that occupied the greatest share of his 
 attention during this Session, was the Memorial of Lord Auck* 
 land to the States-General, — which document he himself brought 
 
. BIGHT HON. KICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 171 
 
 under the notice of Parliament as deserving of severe reproba- 
 tion for the violent and vindictive tone which it assumed towards 
 the Commissioners of the National Convention. It was upon one 
 of the discussions connected with this subject that a dispute, as 
 to the correct translation of the word “ malheureux^'' was main- 
 tained with much earnestness between him and Lord Melville — ■ 
 two persons, the least qualified, perhaps, of any in the House, to 
 volunteer as either interpreters or pronouncers of the Frencsn 
 language. According to Sheridan, ‘‘ ces malheureux'’’ v/as to be 
 translated “ these wretches,” while Lord Melville contended, to 
 the no small amusement of the House, that ‘‘mo%roo,” (as he 
 pronounced it,) meant no more than “ these unfortunate gentle- 
 'men.” 
 
 In the November of this 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 
 thoughtlessness. It is but too true, however, that friendship in 
 general gains far less by such a community of pursuit than it 
 loses by the competition that naturally springs out of it ; and 
 that two wits or two beauties form the last sort of alliance, in 
 which we ought to look for specimens of sincere and cordial friend- 
 ship. 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 other’s vivacity, seldom parted 
 without trials of temper as well as of wit. Being both, too, 
 observers of character, and each finding in the other rich mate- 
 rials for observation, their love of ridicule could not withstand 
 such a temptation, and they freely criticised each other to com- 
 mon friends, who, as is usually the case, agreed with both. Still, 
 however, there was a whim and sprightliness even about their 
 mischief, which made it seem rather an exercise of ingenuity than 
 
172 
 
 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 
 
 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 sub- 
 jects, 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 humor have not yet grown stale. As Sheridan is the 
 hero of the W reath 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 
 offerings in Lady Millar’s “Vase 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, chac’d through Scandal’s school ? 
 
 Ah no — be Sheridan’s the comic page. 
 
 Or let me fly with Garrick from the stage. 
 
 Haste then, my friend, (for let me 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.” 
 
 Ill the year 1781, Tickell brought out at Drury-Lane ^ ouera 
 called “The Carnival of Venice,” on which there is the following 
 remark m Mrs, CroucVs Memoirs songs in this piece 
 
illGHT HON. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 1 
 
 BO 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, a :d which, it may be asserted without hesitation, 
 Sheridan never wrote. He had no feeling for natural scenery,^ 
 nor is there a trace of such a sentiment 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 Kivals^ 
 written by Tickell on the margin of a copy of that play in my 
 possession. I shall now add another piece of still more happy 
 humor, with which he has filled, in very neat hand-writing, the 
 three or four first pages of the same copy. • 
 
 The Rivals, a Comedy — one of the best in the English language — writ- 
 ten 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 un- 
 common abilities, very little improved by cultivation. His confidence in 
 the resources of his own genius and his aversion to any sort of labor 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 the play-houses, and conceived 
 the extraordinary and almost incredible project of composing a play ex- 
 tempore, 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 dis^st. 
 
 * In corroboration of this remark, I have been allowed to quote the following passage 
 of a letter written by a very eminent person, whose name all lovers of the Picturesque 
 associate with iheir best enjoyment of its beauties : — 
 
 “ 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 m- 
 terest in all ar jund it : his delight was in shooting, all and every day, and my game- 
 keeper said that 5f all the gentlemen with he never knew so bad a 
 
 8hot.»» 
 
if 4: MEMOIRS OP THE LIFE OF THE 
 
 “ He was a member of the last Parliaments that were summoned in Eng- 
 land, and signalized himself on many occasions by his wit and eloquence, 
 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 in- 
 timacy with the famous Fox, who is said to have concerted with him the 
 audacious attempt which he made, about the year 1783, to seize the whole 
 property of the East India Company, amounting at that time to above 
 12,000,000^. 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 Bedchamber 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 annihi- 
 lated, 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 bank- 
 ruptcy was apprehended. During this confusion Fox and his partisans as- 
 sembled in large bodies, and made a violent attack in Parliament on Pitt, 
 the King’s first minister : — Sheridan supported and seconded him. Parlia- 
 ment seemed disposed to inquire into the cause of the calamity : the na- 
 tion 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 dread- 
 ful 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 hav- 
 ing now no farther occasion for Pitt, and being desirous of rewarding him 
 for his past services, and, at the same time, finding an adequate employ- 
 ment for his great talents, caused him to enter into holy orders, and pre- 
 sented him with the 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 entered 
 
BIGHT HON. ElOHAED BEINSLEY SHEEIDAN. 176 
 
 to 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 enormity, 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 es- 
 caped 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 com- 
 mitted, and a good deal of sarcasm on the pusillanimity of those whom he 
 dad robbed, and the inefncacy of the penal laws of the kingdom. This piece 
 was acted at Drury-Lane Theatre with great applause, to the astonishment 
 of all sober persons, and the scandal of the nation. His Majesty, who had 
 long wished to curb the licentiousness of the 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 for- 
 bid on pain of death. Drury-Lane play-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 ar- 
 rival in Ireland, he put himself at the head of a party of the most violent 
 eformers, commanded a regiment of Volunteers at the siege of Dublin in 
 /91, and was supposed to be the person who planned the scheme for tar- 
 ing 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 enterprise 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 bed-chamber, 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 endeavored, by se- 
 rious 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 sherifts began to apprehend a rescue, 
 and ordered the hangman instantly to do his duty. He went off in a loud 
 
176 
 
 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 
 
 horse-laugh, and cast a look towards the Castle, accompanied with a ges^ 
 ture expressive of no great respect, 
 
 *^Thus ended the life of this singular and unhappy man— a melancholy 
 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. 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, how- 
 ever, with teaching the boy to draw portraits with his toes, in which he 
 soon became so astonishing a proficient that he seldom failed to take a 
 most exact 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 ‘ Macpher- 
 son’s Moral History,’ Art. Drunkenness.' " 
 
lliGHT HO^^. EICHARD BElis'SLEY SHERIDAN. if? 
 
 CHAPTER VII.' 
 
 SPEECH IN ANSWER TO LORD MORNINGTON.— COALITION 
 OF THE WHIG SECEDERS WITH MR. PITT. — MR. CANNING. 
 — EVIDENCE ON THE TRIAL OF HORNE TOOKE, — THE 
 “ GLORIOUS FIRST OF JUNE.” — MARRIAGE OF MR. SHERI- 
 DAN. — 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. 
 
 In the year 1794, the natural consequences of the policy pur- 
 sued by Mr. Pitt began rapidly to unfold themselves both at 
 home and abroad."^ Ihe confederated Princes of the Continent, 
 among whom the 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 but ministered to her aggrandizement. In the 
 mean time, the measures of the English Minister at home were 
 directed to the tw^o great objects of his legislation — the raising 
 of supplies and the suppressing of sedition ; or, in other wwds, 
 to the double and anomalous task of making the people pay 
 for the failures of their Royal allies, and suffer for their sympa- 
 thy with the success of their republican enemies. It is the opi- 
 nion of a learned J esuit that it was by aqua regia the Golden 
 Calf of the Israelites was dissolved — and the cause of Kinss was 
 
 O 
 
 * See, for a masterly exposure of the errors of the War, the Speech of Lord Lansdowne 
 this year on bringing forward his Motion for Peace. 
 
 I cannot let the name of ihis Nobleman pass, without briefly expressing the deep grati- 
 tude which I feel to him, not only for his own kindness to me, when introduced, as a boy 
 to nis notice, but for the friendship of his truly Noble descendant, which I, in a great de- 
 gree, owe to him, and which has long been the pride and happiness of my life. 
 
 VOL. II. 8* 
 
178 Memoirs of the life of th^I 
 
 the Royal solvent, in which the wealth of Great Britain now 
 melted irrecoverably away. While the successes, too, of the 
 French had already low'ered the tone of the Minister from pro- 
 jects 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 threat- 
 ened real danger. The severity of the sentence upon Muir and 
 Palmer in Scotland, and the daring confidence with which charges 
 of High 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 coun- 
 try, given a lesson to Power such as England is alone capable of 
 giving, and which will long be remembered, to the honor of that 
 great political safeguard, — that Life-preserver in stormy times, 
 — the Trial by Jury. 
 
 At the opening of the Session, Mr. Sheridan delivered his 
 admirable answer to Lord Mornington, 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 unpre- 
 pared, there is a natural earnestness of feeling and argument that 
 is well contrasted with the able but artificial harangue that pre- 
 ceded 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 
 aud dreadful enormities had been committed, at which the heart shuddered, 
 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 na- 
 ture, as to render its subjects, on the first recovery of their rights, unfit for 
 the exercise of them. But never hacl he, or would he meet but with re- 
 
RIGHT flON. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 179 
 
 probation that mode of argument which went, in fact, to establish, as an 
 inference from this truth, that those who had been long slaves, ought there^ 
 fore to remain so for ever ! No ; the lesson ought to be. he would again 
 repeat, a tenfold horror of that despotic form of government, which had 
 60 profaned and changed the nature of civilized man, and a still more jea- 
 lous apprehension of any system tending to withhold the rights and liber- 
 ties of our fellow-creatures. Such a form of government might be con- 
 sidered 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 the folly or frenzy of those who overturned it should 
 commit. 
 
 But the madness of the French people was not confined to their pro- 
 ceedings within their own country ; we, and all the Powers of Europe, had 
 to dread it. True ; but was not this also to be 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 des- 
 peration. We had unsettled their reason, and then reviled their insanity ; 
 we drove them to the extremities that produced the evils we arraigned ; 
 we baited them like wild beasts, until at length we 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 from 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 declama- 
 tions on the horror of their turning upon you with the fury which you in- 
 spired.’’ 
 
 Having alluded to an assertion of Condorcet, quoted by Lord 
 Mornington, that “ Revolutions are always the work of the mino- 
 rity,” he adds livelily : — 
 
 If this be jfcrue, it certainly is a most ominous thing for the enemies of 
 Reform in England ; for, if it holds true, of necessity, that the minority 
 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 sit- 
 uation 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. Con- 
 
180 
 
 MEMOIRS OF■^HE LIFE OF TME 
 
 scious, however, that M. Condorcet was mistaken in our object, I am glad 
 to find that we are terrible in proportion as we are few ; I 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 en- 
 cumber 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 cor- 
 recting 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 per- 
 suasions of Burke, and commit themselves still further with the 
 x^Ldministration by accepting of office. Though the final arrange- 
 ments to this efiect were not completed till the summer, on 
 account of the lingering reluctance of the Duke of Portland and 
 Mr. 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 to 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 the 
 lesson of loyalty they have transmitted would have been far 
 more edifying, had the usual corollary of honors and emoluments 
 not followed, and had they left at least one instance of political 
 conversion on record, wdiere the truth was its own sole reward, 
 and the proselyte did not subside into the placeman. Mr. She- 
 ridan w^as naturally indignant at these desertions, and his bitter- 
 ness 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 an^> such experiment. I can more 
 
RIGHT HON. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 181 
 
 easily fancy another sort of speech for our prudent Minister. I can more 
 easily conceive him modestly comparing himself and his own measures with 
 the character and conduct of his rival, and saying, — ‘ Pol 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 oi 
 your country. Do I demand of you, my fellow-placemen and brother-pen- 
 sioners, that you should sacrifice any part of your stipends to the public 
 exigency ? On the contrary, am I not daily 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 
 you 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 salva- 
 tion 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 take 
 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 favorite objects of the 
 vanity or ambition of their lives.’ ****>* 
 
 * * * * *.***** 
 “ Good God, Sir, that he should have thought it prudent to have forced 
 this contrast upon our attention ; that he should triumphantly remind us 
 of everything that shame should have withheld, and caution would have 
 buried in oblivion ! Will those who stood forth with a parade of disinter- 
 ested patriotism, and vaunted of the sacrifices they had made, and the ex- 
 posed situation they had chosen, in Older the better to oppose the friends 
 of Brissot in England — will they thank the Noble Lord for reminding us 
 how soon these lofty professions dwindled into little jobbing pursuits for 
 followers and dependents, as unfit to fill the offices procured for them, as 
 the offices themselves were unfit to be created ? — Will the train of newly 
 titled alarmists, of supernumerary negotiators, of pensioned paymasters, 
 agents and commissaries, thank him for remarking 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 im- 
 poverished people, from tlie toil, the drudgery of the shivering poor, must 
 make the most practised collector’s heart ache while he tears it from them 
 
182 
 
 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 
 
 —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 fat- 
 ten on the meals wrested from industrious 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 
 every 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 peo- 
 ple on the pretence of saving them from the poverty and distress which 
 you say the enemy would infiict, but which you take care no enemy shall 
 be able to aggravate. Oh! shame! shame! is this a time for selfish in- 
 trigues, and the little dirty traffic for lucre and emolument ? Does it suit 
 the honor 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 mercenary 
 and the vain to abstain a while at least, and wait the fitting of the times? 
 Improvident impatience I Nay, even from those who seem to have no di- 
 rect 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,’ ex- 
 claims 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 honor will have a 
 fast and faithful servant.’ What are the pecf^le to think of our sincerity ? — 
 What credit are they to give to our professions ? — Is this system to be per- 
 severed in ? Is there nothing that whispers to that Right Honorable Gen- 
 tleman that the crisis is too big, that the times are too gigantic, to be ruled 
 by the little hackneyed and every-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 times would hardly be borne. Mr. Pitt and Mr. 
 Sheridan carne, most of all^ into collision; and the retorts of th^ 
 
EIGHT HON. BICHAED BEINSLEY SHEEIDAN. 188 
 
 Minister not unfrequently proved with what weight the haughty 
 sarcasms of Power may descend even upon the tempered buck- 
 ler of Wit. 
 
 It was in this Session, and on the question of the Treaty with 
 the King 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 the 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 distinguished himself. Whe- 
 ther this and other friendships, formed by Mr. Canning at the 
 University, had any share in alienating him from a political creed, 
 which he had hitherto, perhaps, adopted 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 vehemence of his politics 
 and the irregularities of his life, had put himself, in some degree, 
 under the ban of public opinion — or whether, 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 was that now decided the choice of the young political Her- 
 cules, between the two paths that equally wooed his footsteps 
 lione, perhaps, but himself can fully determine. His decision^ 
 
 * Kow Lord Liyerpool. 
 
184 
 
 MEMOIES OF THE LIFE OF THE 
 
 we know, was in faror of the Minister and Toryism ; and, after 
 a friendly and candid explanation to Sheridan of the reasons and 
 feelings that urged him to this step, he entered into 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 
 the ascendant side, Mr. Canning has not conferred a greater 
 benefit on the country than he ever would have been able to 
 effect in the ranks of his original friends. That Party, which has 
 now so long been the sole depository of the power of the State, 
 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 vocation, 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 inspiration the genius of 
 Mr. Canning has supplied. His first political lessons wxre de- 
 rived from sources too sacred to his young admiration to be 
 forgotten. He has carried the spirit of these lessons with him 
 into the councils which he joined, and by the vigor of the graft, 
 which already, indeed, shows itself in the fruits, bids fair to 
 change altogether the nature of Toryism. 
 
 Among the eminent persons summoned as witnesses on the 
 Trial of Horne Tooke, which took place in November of this 
 year, was Mr. Sheridan ; and, as his evidence contains some 
 curious particulars, both with regard to himself and the state of 
 political feeling in the year 1790, I shall here transcribe a part 
 of it : — 
 
 He, (Mr. Sheridan,) said he recollects a meeting to celebrate the esta- 
 blishment 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. 
 Horne Tooke, he says, made no objection to his motion, but proposed aa 
 
RIGHT HON. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 185 
 
 / 
 
 amendment. Mr. Tooke stated that an 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 misrepre- 
 sented to have that object ; he adverted to the circumstance of their hav- 
 ing all of them national cockades in their hats ; he proposed to add some 
 qualifying expression to the approbation of the French Revolution, a de- 
 claration 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 timbers of our Constitution are sound ; he had 
 before observed, however, that some reforms might be necessary ; he said 
 that sentiment was received with great disapprobation, and with very rude 
 interruption, insomuch that Lord Stanhope, who was in the chair, inter- 
 fered ; he said it had happened to him, in many public meetings, to diifei 
 with and oppose the prisoner, and that he has frequently seen him receiv- 
 ed with very considerable marks of disapprobation, but he never saw them 
 affect him much ; he said that he himself objected to Mr. Lookers amend- 
 ment ; 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 confirma- 
 tion of liberty in France ; and it beholds with peculiar satisfaction the senti- 
 ments of amity and good will wLich 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 nothirjg 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 w^as a wide 
 difference between England and France 5 that in France the vessel was so 
 foul and decayed, that no repair could save it from destruction, whereas 
 in England, w^e 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 mo- 
 tion was, — ‘ That we feel equal satisfaction that the subjects of England, 
 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 still “ dragged its slow length 
 
186 
 
 MEM0IK3 OF THE LIFE OF THE 
 
 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 oc- 
 casions, for the Manager who spoke to be assisted by one of his 
 brother Managers, whose task it was to carry the bag that con- 
 tained 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 there was none — 
 neither bag nor papers. They must manage, he said, as well as they 
 could without them ; — and when the papers were called for, his 
 friend must only put the best countenance 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 listened to with the profoundest atten- 
 tion ; but when he came to contrast the evidence of the Com- 
 mons with that adduced by Hastings, it was not long before the 
 Chancellor interrupted him, with a request that the printed Min- 
 utes 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 begged leave, in the 
 meantime, to proceed. Again, however, his statements rendered 
 a reference to the Minutes necessary, and again he was inter- 
 rupted by the Chancellor, while an outcry after Mr. Sheridan’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 meantime, the orator was proceeding 
 brilliantly and successfully in his argument ; and, on some fur- 
 thei 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 Lord- 
 ships, having the printed Minutes before you, will afterwards see 
 whether I am right or wrong.” ^ 
 
 J)uring the bustle produced by the inquiries after the bag, Mr* 
 
EIGHT HOH. KICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 187 
 
 Fox, alarmed at the inconvenienee which, he feared, the want of 
 it might occasion 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, (m a tone 
 of which they alone, who have heard this gentleman relate the 
 anecdote, can feel the full humor,) “ 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 favorite triumph of his vanity 
 to create. I have it on the authority of Mr. William Smythe, 
 that, previously 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 labor with apparent 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 21st of April, with a prologue, not by himself, as might 
 have been expected, but by his friend General Fitzpatrick. He 
 found time, however, to assist in the rapid manufacture of a little 
 piece called “ The Glorious First of June,” which was acted im- 
 mediately after Lord Howe’s victory, and of which I have found 
 some sketches* in Sheridan’s hand-writing, — though the dialogue 
 
 * One of these is as follows 
 
 “ Scene I. — Miss Leake — Miss Decamp — WaUh. 
 
 “ Short dialogue — ^Nancy persuading Susan to go to the Fair, where there is an entertain 
 ment to be given by the Ixird of the Manor — Susan melancholy because Henry, her lover, 
 is at sea with the British Admiral — Song — Her old mother scolds from the cottage — her 
 little brother ( Walsh) comes from the house, with a message — laughs at his sister’s fears 
 and sings— 2Wo. 
 
 “ Scene H . — The Fair. 
 
 “ Puppet-show — dancing bear — bells — hurdy-gurdy — ^recruiting party — song and chorus 
 
 D’Egville. 
 
 “ Susan snys she has no pleasure, and will go and take a solitary w'alk. 
 
 “Scene IH . — Dark Wood. 
 
 ‘ Susan — ^gipsy — tells her fortune — recitative and (Jilty. 
 
188 
 
 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 
 
 was, no doubt, supplied (as Mr. Boaden says,) by G)bb, or some 
 other such pedissequus of the Dramatic Muse. This piece was 
 written, rehearsed, and acted within three days. The first opera- 
 tion of Mr. Sheridan towards it was to order the meAianist of 
 the theatre to get ready two fleets. It was in vain that ob- 
 jections were started to the possibility of equipping these paste- 
 board armaments in so short an interval — Lord Chatham’s fa- 
 mous order to Lord Anson was not more peremptory.* The 
 two fleets were accordingly ready at the time, and the Duke of 
 Clarence attended the rehearsal of their evolutions. This mix 
 ture of the cares of the Statesman and the Manager is one of 
 those whimsical peculiarities that made Sheridan’s own life so 
 dramatic, and formed a compound altogether too singular ever 
 to occur again. 
 
 “ 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 tine 
 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 “in usum Delpini.^’ 
 
 Another of these inglorious tasks of the author of The School for Scandal, was the fur- 
 nishing of the first outline or Programme of “ The Forty Thieves.” His brother-in-law. 
 Ward, supplied the dialogue, and Mr. Colman was employed to season it with an infu- 
 sion of jokes. The following is Sheridan’s sketch of one of the scenes : — 
 
 “ Ali Baba. 
 
 “ Bannister called out of the cavern boldly by his son — comes out and falls on 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, &c. 
 
 “ Afterwards, when he loads his asses, his son reminds him to be moderate — but it was 
 a promise made to thieves — ‘ it gets nearer the owner, if taken from the stealer’ — the 
 son disputes this morality — ‘ they stole it, ergo^ they have no right to it ; and we steal it 
 from the stealer, ergo^ our title is twice as bad as theirs.’ ” 
 
 * For the expedition to the coast of France, after the Convention of Closter-secen. 
 When he ordered the fleet to be equipped, and appointed the time and place of its ren- 
 dezvous, Lord Anson said it would be impossible to have it prepared so soon. “ It may,” 
 said Mr. Pitt, “ be done ; and if the ships are not ready at the time specified, I shall sig- 
 nify Your Lordship’s neglect to the King, and impeach you in the House of Commons.” 
 This intimation produced the desired effect : the ships were ready. See Ajiecdofes of 
 Ixird Chatham, vpl. i. 
 
mam noi ^, ricitard brinsley sheridan. 189 
 
 In the spring of the following year, (1795,) we find Mr. Sheri- 
 dan paying that sort of tribute to the happiness of a first mar- 
 riage w'hich 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, 
 l)y 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 en- 
 dowed it with such imperishable treasures. The fortune of the 
 lady being five thousand pounds, he added to it fifteen thousand 
 more, which he contrived to raise by the sale of Drury-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 w^ere 
 Mr. Grey, (now Lord Grey,) and Mr. Whitbread. 
 
 To a man at the time of life which Sheridan had now at- 
 tained — four years beyond that period, at which Petrarch thought 
 it decorous to leave off writing love-verses* — a union with a 
 young and accomplished 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 Phsedria, after the magic boat in the “ Fairy Queen,”) 
 forgot for a 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 parties,f wrote the following verses, 
 which were much admired, as they well deserved te be, by Sheri- 
 
 * See his Epistle, “ ad Posteritatem,” where, after lamenting the many years which 
 he had devoted to love, he adds : “ IWox vero ad qaadragesimum annum appropinquans, 
 dum adhuc et c doris satis esset,” &c. 
 
 f Among other distinguished persons present at these excursions were Mr. Joseph 
 Richardson, Dr. Howley, now Bishop of London, and Mis. Wiimot, now Lady Dacre, a 
 lady, whose various talents, — not the less delightful fji being so feminine, — like the 
 groupe of the Graces, reflect beauty on each other. 
 
90 
 
 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 
 
 dan, for the sweetness of their thoughts, and the perfect mueio 
 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 reclin’d 
 Upon the sunny deck, heard but the breeze 
 That o’er us whispering 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 castlef 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 boat 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 curl’d. 
 
 How sweet were life’s long voyage, till in peace 
 We gain’d that haven still, where all things cease !” 
 
 The events of this year but added fresh impetus to that reac- 
 tion 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 sanc- 
 tion which the vehement rebound against oppression of such in- 
 fluencing spirits as Fox and Sheridan seemed to hold out to the 
 obscurer and more practical assertors of freedom. This was at 
 no time more remarkable than in the present Session, during 
 the discussion of those arbitrary measures, the Treason and Se- 
 dition 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 thai 
 
 ♦ Isle of Wight. 
 
 f Kclshot Castle. 
 
nmni? HOK. RICHAllD BElKSLET SH^lIlIDAN. 191 
 
 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 oppo- 
 sition to the declared sense of the great majority of the nation, 
 and they should be put in force with all their rigorous provi- 
 sions, — if his opinion were asked by the people as to their obe- 
 dience, 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.” This language was, of course, visited 
 with the heavy reprobation of the Ministry but their own 
 partisans had already gone as great lengths on the side of abso- 
 lute power, and it is the nature of such extremes to generate 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 pro- 
 vidential arrangements.” The promotion of the Eight Eeverend 
 Prelate that followed, was not likely to abate his zeal in the 
 cause of power ; and, accordingly, 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 be- 
 low 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 afforded facilities for the 
 circulation of his political heresies, did not scruple, in one of his 
 
192 
 
 MEMOIRS OR LIFE OF TfiE 
 
 pamphlets, roundly to assert, that unequal representation, rotteri 
 boroughs, long parliaments, extravagant courts, selfish Ministers, 
 and corrupt majorities, are not only intimately interwoven with 
 the practical freedom of England, but, in a great degree, the 
 causes of it. 
 
 But the most active and notorious of these patronized advo- 
 cates of the Court was Mr. John Reeves, — a person who, in his 
 capacity of President of the Association against Republicans and 
 r^evellers, had acted as a sort of Sub-minister of Alarm to Mr. 
 Burke. In a pamphlet, entitled “ Thoughts on the English Go- 
 vernment,” 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 Com- 
 mons 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 es- 
 poused left Mr. Pitt himself at a wondering distance behind. His 
 speeches in defence of Reeves, (which are among the proofs that 
 remain of that want of equipoise observable in his fine, rather 
 than solid, understanding,) have been with a judicious charity 
 towards his memory, omitted in the authentic collection by Mr. 
 Amyot. 
 
 When such libels against the Constitution were not only pro- 
 mulgated, but acted upon, on one side, it was to be expected, and 
 hardly, perhaps, to be regretted, that the repercussion should be 
 heard loudly and warningly from the other. Mr. Fox, by a sub- 
 sequent explanation, softened down all that was most menacing 
 ill his language ; and, though the word “ Resistance,” at full 
 length, should, like the hand-writing on the wall, be reserved for 
 I he last intoxication of the Belshazzars of this world, a letter or 
 two of it may, now and then, glare out upon their eyes, with- 
 out producing any thing worse than a salutary alarm amid their 
 revels. At all events, the high and constitutional grounds on 
 which Mr. Fox defended the expressions he had hazarded, may 
 well reconcile us to any risk incurred b}^ their utterance. The 
 
illGHT HON-. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. l9^ 
 
 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 applicable to that Noble family now as 
 it was then ; and will continue to be so, I trust, as long as a 
 single vestige of a race, so pledged to the cause of liberty, re- 
 mains. 
 
 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 to 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 pri- 
 vate worth. Never was there so much charity and humanity towards 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 cir- 
 cumstance peculiarly strange, that though luxury had arrived to such a 
 pitch, it had so little effect in depraving the hearts and destroying the mo- 
 rals 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, she 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 pri- 
 vate worth and virtue ; she will be ruined by the profligacy of the gover- 
 nors, and the security of her inhabitants, — the consequence of those per- 
 nicious doctrines which have taught her to place a false confidence in her 
 strength and freedom, and not to look with distrust and apprehension to 
 the misconduct and corruption of those to whom she has trusted the ma- 
 nagement of her resources.” 
 
 To this might have been added, that when Great Britain falls, 
 it will not be from either ignorance of her rights, or insensibility 
 to their value, but from that want of energy to assert them which 
 a high state of civilization produces. The love of ease that lux- 
 
 VOL. II. 9 
 
194 
 
 MEMoiil^ OP THE LIFE OF TH^3 
 
 ury brings along with 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 sacri- 
 ficing public interests to private ones, — the substitution of Intel 
 lectual 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 enlighten- 
 ing them ; till they become, what a French writer calls ‘‘ esprits 
 exigeanz et varacteres complaisans^^ and the period in which theii 
 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 semblance of rights gone 
 by, and refining upon the forms of their institutions 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 vigor 
 and reiteration 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 
 proposed by His Majesty to Parliament, not only to provide an 
 establishment 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 be- 
 lieve, 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 
 
mam lioisf. iiicSarD Srinsley sheridan. 196 
 
 would not oppose the granting of an establishment to the Prince 
 equal to that 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 embarrassments would 
 certainly prove a mortification ; but it would, at the same time, 
 awaken a just sense of his imprudence. Mr. Fox asked, “ Was 
 the Prince well advised in applying to that House on the subject 
 of his debts, after the promise made in 1787]” — and Mr. She- 
 ridan, while he agreed with his friends that the application should 
 not have been made to Parliament, still gave it as his “ positive 
 opinion that the debts ought to be paid immediately, for the dig- 
 nity 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 respect to the promise given in 1787, 
 and now violated, that the Prince would not again apply to Par- 
 liament for the payment of his debts, Mr. Sheridan, with a com- 
 municativeness 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 honor, — 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 to be expected that he could himselt 
 enforce the details of a system of economy ; and, although he had men of 
 honor and abilities about him, he was totally unprovided with men of bu- 
 siness, 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 retrenchment, 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 advice 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 inquired 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 premise, he declined contradicting it, 
 
196 
 
 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 
 
 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 adherence tc 
 the plan. ********* *** 
 
 While Ministers never interfered to check expenses, of which they could 
 not pretend ignorance, the Prince had recourse to means for relieving him- 
 self 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 con- 
 sultation with Lord Loughborough, all the bonds were burnt, although 
 with a considerable loss to the Prince. After that, another plan of re- 
 trenchment was proposed, upon which he had frequent consultations with 
 Lord Thurlow, who gave the Prince fair, open, and manly advice. That No- 
 ble Lord told the Prince, that, after the promise he had made, he must not 
 think of applying to Parliament ; — that he must avoid being of any party 
 in politics, but, above all, exposing himself to the suspicion of being influ- 
 enced in political opinion by his embarrassments ; — that the only course he 
 could pursue with honor, was to retire from public life for a time, and ap- 
 propriate the greater part of his income to the liquidation of his debts. 
 This plan was agreed upon in the autum of 1792. Why, it might be asked, 
 was it not carried into effect ? About that period his Royal Highness be- 
 gan to receive unsolicited advice from another quarter. He was told by 
 Lord Loughborough, both in words and in writing, that the plan savored 
 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 re- 
 spect to it, than the pageantry of state-liveries.” 
 
 The few occasions on which the name of Mr. Sheridan was 
 airain 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 manager 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 asserts, the standard at which he rated the genius 
 of Shakspeare was not so high as to inspire him with a very 
 
HIGHT HON. EICHAKD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 197 
 
 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. Sheri- 
 dan purchased the play of Vortigern from the Irelands. The 
 latter part of the conditions was voided the first night ; and, 
 though it is more than probable that a genuine tragedy of Shak- 
 speare, if presented under similar circumstances, would have 
 shared the same fate, the public enjoyed the credit of detecting 
 and condemning 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 during his perusal of the manuscripts, and that his 
 name does not appear 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 Kemble, who tells us that “ Kemble frequently 
 expressed to him his wonder that Sheridan should trouble him^ 
 self so little about Shakspeare.” This peculiarity of taste, — if it 
 really existed to the degree that these two authorities would lead 
 us to infer, — afibrds a remarkable coincidence with the opinions 
 of another illustrious genius, lately lost to the world, whose ad- 
 miration 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. Sheridan 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 
 
198 
 
 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 
 
 {-.hat gentleman, and, on the day after his examination, had, at 
 the request of Mr. Dundas, transmitted to that Minister in writ- 
 ing the particulars of his testimony before the Council. There 
 is among his papers a rough draft of this Statement, in compar- 
 ing 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 ex- 
 ert his influence in France, through those channels which his 
 brother’s residence there opened to him, for the purpose of avert- 
 ing 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 ineflectual request to be allowed 
 to refer to his written Statement, gave tne following as part of 
 Kis recollections of the conversation : — 
 
 Mr. Stone stated that, in order to effect this purpose, he had endea- 
 vored 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 gentlemen connect- 
 ed with Administration — if the Counsel will remind me 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 made a 
 similar communication, should you recollect the name of that person if you 
 were reminded of it^ — I certainly should. — Was it General Murray? — Ge- 
 neral Murray certainly.’’ 
 
 Notwithstanding this, however, it appears from the written 
 Statement in my possession, d^'^^wn up soon after the conversa 
 
RIGHT HON. RICHARD BRIKSLEY SHERIDAN. 199 
 
 tion in question, that this “gentleman connected with Govern- 
 ment,” so difficult to be remembered, was no other than the 
 Prime Minister, Mr. Fitt himself. So little is the memory to 
 b 3 relied upon in evidence, particularly when absolved from re- 
 sponsibility by the commission of its deposit to writing. The 
 conduct of Mr. Sheridan throughout this transaction appears to 
 ha^e been sensible and cautious. That he was satisfied with it 
 hiaself may be collected from the conclusion of his letter to 
 Mr Dundas : — “ Under the circumstances in which the applica- 
 tioi; (from Mr. Dundas,) has been made to me, I have thought 
 it e<[ually a matter of respect to that application and of respect 
 to iiyself, as well as of justice to the person under suspicion, to 
 give this relation more in detail than at first perhaps might ap- 
 pear necessary. My own conduct in the matter not being in 
 quesfon, I can only say that were a similar case to occur, I think 
 1 shoild act in every circumstance precisely in the manner I did 
 on ths occasion.” 
 
 Tb parliamentary exertions of Mr. Sheridan this year, 
 thou^ various and active, were chiefly upon subordinate ques- 
 tions; and, except in the instance of Mr. Fox’s Motion of Cen- 
 sure iipon Ministers for advancing money to the Emperor with- 
 out he consent of Parliament, were not distinguished by any 
 signa or sustained displays of eloquence. The grand questions, 
 inded, connected with the liberty of the subject, had been so 
 hotl} contested, that but few new grounds were left on which to 
 renev the conflict. Events, however, — the only teachers of the 
 grea mass of mankind, — were beginning to effect what eloquence 
 had n vain attempted. The people of England, though general- 
 ly e«ger for war, are seldom long in discovering that “ the cup 
 but sparkles near the brim and in the occurrences of the fol- 
 lowng year they were made to taste the full bitterness of the 
 draight. An alarm for the solvency of the Bank, an impend- 
 ing mvasion, a mutiny in the fleet, and an organized rebellion in 
 Ireknd, — such were the fruits of four years’ warfare, and they 
 wei3 enough to startle even the most sanguine and precipitate 
 into reflection. 
 
200 
 
 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 
 
 The conduct of Mr. Sheridan on the breaking out of the Mu 
 tiny at the Nore is too well known and appreciated to require 
 any illustration here. It is placed to his credit on the page of 
 history, and was one of the happiest impulses of good feelirg 
 and good sense combined, that ever public man acted upon in a 
 situation demanding so much of both. The patriotic prompti- 
 tude of his interference w^as even more striking than it appetrs 
 in the record of his parliamentary labors ; for, as I have hetrd 
 at but one remove from his own authority, while the Ministry 
 were yet hesitating as to the steps they should take, he went to 
 Mr. Dundas and said, — “ My advice is that you cut the bmys 
 on the river — send Sir Charles Grey down to the coast, and set 
 a price on Parker’s head. If the Administration take this ad- 
 vice 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 dravn — 
 less with a view to elevate Sheridan than to depreciate his >arty 
 — between the conduct of himself and his friends at this farful 
 crisis, it is impossible not to concede that, on the scale of pblic 
 spirit, he rose as far superior to them as the great claims o' the 
 general safety transcend all personal considerations and all jarty 
 ties. It was, indeed, a rare triumph of temper and sagacity. 
 With less temper, he would have seen in this awful peril bit an 
 occasion of triumph over the Minister whom he had so long ^een 
 struggling to overturn — and, with less sagacity, he would iave 
 thrown aw'ay the golden opportunity of establishing himsell for 
 ever in the affections and the memories of Englishmen, as one 
 whose heart was in the common-weal, whatever might be his 
 opinions, and who, in the moment of peril, could sink the partsan 
 in the patriot. 
 
 As soon as he had performed this exemplary duty, he johed 
 Mr. Fox and the rest of his friends who had seceded from Jar- 
 liament about a week before, on the verv day after the rejecion 
 of Mr. Grey's motion for a refcu-rn. This step, which was intlnd- 
 ed to create a strong sensation, hy hoisting, as it were, the sijnaJ 
 
RIGHT HON. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 201 
 
 of despair to the country, was followed by no such striking ef- 
 fects, and left little behind but a question as to 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, remained at his post, encountering Mr. l^itt on 
 financial questions with a vigor and address to which the latter 
 had been hitherto unaccustomed, 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 entering 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 Constitution and sully its treasures : — 
 
 ‘TTTjvwv <r’ayaXa? 
 
 •A 
 
 avaS'yjjxaTa.” 
 
 By a letter from the Earl of Moira to Col. M’Mahon in the 
 summer of this year it appears, that in consequence of the calami- 
 tous state of the country, a plan had been in agitation among some 
 members of the House of Commons, who had hitherto supported 
 the measures of the Minister, to form an entirely new Adminis- 
 tration, of which the Noble 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 
 himself. Lord Thurlow, and Sir William Pulteney — the last of 
 whom it was intended to make Chancellor of the Exchequer. 
 Such a tottering balance of parties, however, could not have been 
 long maintained ; and its relapse, after a short interval, into Tory- 
 ism, would but have added to the triumph of Mr. Pitt, and in- 
 creased 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 
 
 9 * 
 
 VOL. II. 
 
202 
 
 MEMOIKS OF THE LIFE OF THE 
 
 honorable to him not to be recorded, and the particulars cannot 
 be better given than in Lord Moira’s own words : — 
 
 You say that Mr. Sheridan has been traduced, as wishing to abandon 
 Mr. Fox, and to promote a new Administration. I had accidentally a con- 
 versation 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 would support a new Administration, 
 but that not any of them would take part in it. I solemnly declare, upon 
 my honor, that I could not shake Mr. Sheridan’s conviction of the pro- 
 priety 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 of- 
 fice would appear an acquiescence under the injustice of the interdict sup- 
 posed to be 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 up- 
 rightness 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. ’ 
 
BIGHT HON. RICHABD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 203 
 
 CHAPTEE VIII. 
 
 PLAY OF ‘‘the stranger.” — SPEECHES IN PARLIAMENT. 
 
 — PIZARRO. — MINISTRY OF MR. ADDINGTON. — FRENCH 
 
 INSTITUTE. — NEGOTIATION WITH MR. KEMBLE. 
 
 The theatrical season of 1798 introduced to the public the 
 German drama of “ The Stranger,” translated by Mr. Thomp- 
 son, and (as we are told by this gentleman in his preface) 
 altered and improved by Sheridan. There is reason, however, 
 to believe that the contributions of the latter to the dialogue were 
 nuch more considerable than he was perhaps willing to let 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 beginning 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 foundation 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 Verse 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 occa- 
 sion. Some verses by Tick ell are mentioned as having supplied 
 one of the best stanzas ; but 1 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 Gentleman’s Magazine, (vol. Ixxi. 
 p. 904,) thus states his grounds : — 
 
 “ In a son^ which I purchased at Bland’s music-shop in Holborn in the 
 
204 
 
 MEMGIKS OF THE LIFE OF THE 
 
 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 
 
 The song to 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 little 
 doubt of its being one of those early love-strains which, in his 
 tempo de^ dolci sospiri^ he addressed to Miss Linley. As, there- 
 fore, 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 : — 
 
 ^ This treasured grief, this loved despair, 
 
 My lot forever be ; 
 
 But, dearest, may the pangs I bear 
 Be never known to thee !’ 
 
 I‘Now, without insisting that the opening thought in Mr. Sheridan’s 
 famous 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,’ has been written by him, and he can be proved to have only 
 stolen from himself.” 
 
 Think not, my love, w^hen secret grief 
 Preys on my saddened heart. 
 
 Think not I wish a mean relief. 
 
 Or would from sorrow part. 
 
 “ Dearly I prize the sighs sincere, 
 
 That 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 Ik* ; 
 
 But, dearest, may the pangs I bear 
 Be never known to thee !” 
 
RIGHT iiON. Richard brInsley sheridah. 206 
 
 Among the political events of this year, the rebellion of Ire- 
 land holds a memorable and fearful pre-eminence. The only 
 redeeming stipulation which the Duke of Portland and his broth- 
 er Alarmists had annexed to their ill-judged* Coalition with Mr. 
 Pitt was, that a system of conciliation and justice should, at last, 
 be adopted towards 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 increased the mischief. Lord Fitzwilliam 
 was not only deceived himself, 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 liour 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 profited 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 
 preserve 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 bitterness.” As a citizen of the world, I wmuld point 
 to England as its brightest ornament, — but, as a disfranchised 
 Ii’ishman, I blush to belong to her. Instead, therefore, of hazard- 
 ing any farther reflections of my own on the causes and character 
 of the Rebellion of 1798, I shall content myself with giving an 
 extract from a Speech which Mr. Sheridan delivered on the sub- 
 ject, in the June of that year : — 
 
206 
 
 MKMOlRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 
 
 What ! when conciliation was held out to the people of Ireland, was 
 there any discontent ? When the government of Ireland was agreeable to 
 the people, was there any discontent ? After the prospect of that concilia- 
 tion was taken away, — after Lord Fitzwilliam was recalled, — after the 
 hopes which had been raised were blasted, — w^hen 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 legislature ? And do 
 jentlemen say that the indignant spirit which is roused by such exercise 
 3f government is unprovoked ? Is this conciliation ? Is this lenity ? Has 
 everything 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-kiugdom has been owing to the machinations of 
 ‘ wicked men.^ Agreeing to the amendment proposed, it was my first in- 
 tention to move that these words should be omitted. But, Sir, the fact 
 they assert is true, dt is, indeed, to the measures of wicked men that the 
 deplorable state of Ireland is to be imputed. It is to those wicked Minis- 
 ters who have broken the promises they held out, who betrayed the party 
 they seduced into their view^s, to be the instruments of the foulest treache- 
 ry 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 w^hich 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 
 occasion of the Mutiny, had acquired for him, — everywhere but 
 among his own immediate party, — seems to have produced a 
 sort of thaw in the rigor 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 unaccus- 
 tomed tribute of compliments from the Treasury-bench. With- 
 out. in the least degree, questioning his sincerity in this change 
 
ftlGlIT HON, RlCHARb BRlNStEt SHERIDaN. 20 < 
 
 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 dan- 
 gers to which it had been reduced were great, but the crisis seem- 
 ed over. The new wings lent to Credit by the paper-currency, 
 — the return of the navy to discipline and victory, — the disen- 
 chantment that had taken place with respect to French principles, 
 and the growing persuasion, since strengthened into conviction, 
 that the world has never committed a more gross mistake than 
 in looking to the French as teachers of liberty, — the insulting 
 reception of the late pacific overtures at Lisle, and that never- 
 failing appeal to the pride and spirit of Englishmen, which a 
 threat of invading their saored shore brings with it, — all these 
 causes concurred, at this moment, to rally the people of England 
 round the Government, and enabled the Minister 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, misgovern- 
 ed, — 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 occa- 
 sionally appearing before the public, Mr. Fox persevered, with 
 but little interruption, in his plan of secession from Parliament 
 altogether. 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 “ dignus vindice,” — 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. 
 Tn the harbor of private life alone could that swell subside ; and, 
 however the country missed his warning eloquence, there is little 
 doubt that his own mind and heart were gainers by a retirement, 
 
208 
 
 MteMOmS OF THE LIFE OF THF 
 
 in which he had leisure to prune the riiiHed wings” of his bene 
 volent 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 piolonged, 
 his country would have felt the full influence. 
 
 From one of Sheridan’s speeches at this time we find that the 
 change which had lately 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 to answer accusations against his character. 
 For, as he is, in general, more extensively read or heard than his 
 accusers, the first intimation,’ in most cases, that the public re- 
 ceives of any charge against him will be from his own answer to 
 it. Neither does the evil rest here; — for the calumny remains 
 end)almed in the defence, long after its own ephemeral life is 
 gone. To this unlucky sort of sensitiveness Mr. Sheridan was 
 but too much disposed to give Avay, and accordingly has been 
 himself the chronicler of many charges against him, of which we 
 should have been otherwise wholly ignorant. 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 himself, in 1795, from 
 the suspicion of being actuated by self-interest, in his connection 
 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, wFere he has given substance 
 and perpetuity to rumor, 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 ena- 
 bled us to collect, from his gratuitous defence of himself, 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 poli- 
 tical steadiness, and to rumors of his approaching separation from 
 Mr. Fox. 
 
 I am sorry,’’ he said, on one occasion, that it is hardly possible for 
 
SIGHT HON. SICHASD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 209 
 
 d-iiy man to speak in this House, and to obtain credit for speaking from a 
 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 anything, without being accused of doing so from 
 interested motives. I am not such a coxcomb as to say, that it is of muck 
 importance what part I may take ; or that it is essential that I should divide 
 a little popularity, or some emolument, with the ministers of the Crown ; 
 nor am I so vain as to imagine, that my services might be solicited. Cer- 
 tainly 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 50.000 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 back the blood of Englishmen 
 which has been shed in this fatal contest, — give me back the 250 millions 
 of debt which it has occasioned, — give me back the honor 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 connection of which is 
 endangered by a cruel and outrageous system of military coercion,— give 
 me back that pledge of eternal war, which must be attended with inevitar 
 ble ruin!” 
 
 The great success which had attended The Stranger, and the 
 still incTeasing taste for the German Drama, induced Mr. Sheri- 
 dan, in the present year, to embark his fame even still more re- 
 sponsibly in a venture to the same romantic shores. The play 
 of Pizarro was brought out on the 24th of May, 171)9. The he- 
 ro’C interest of the plot, the splendor of the pageantry, and some 
 
210 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 
 
 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 representations 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, “Now for my 
 magnificence, — my noise and my procession !” he little anticipated 
 the illustration which, in twenty years afterwards, his own ex- 
 ample 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 mo- 
 tives 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 nor prose, but is a sort of amphibious native of both, — nei- 
 ther gliding gracefully through the former element, nor walking 
 steadily on the other. In order to give pomp to the language, 
 inversion is substituted for metre ; and one of the worst faults 
 of poetry, a superfluity of epithet, is adopted, without that har- 
 mony which alone i iakes 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 knowm, there is but little alteration from the German origi- 
 nal. The omission of the comic scene of Diego, which Kotzebue 
 himself intended to omit, — the judicious suppression of Elvira’s 
 love for Alonzo, — the introduction, so striking in representation, 
 of Rolla’s passage across the bridge, and the re-appearance of El- 
 vira in the habit of a nun, form, I believe, the only important 
 points in which the play of Mr. Sheridan deviates from the struc- 
 ture of the original drama. With respect to 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 
 
HIGHT HON. EiCHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 2ll 
 
 Spaniards in Peru,” which he used as the ground- work of Pi- 
 zarro, has been preserved among his papers : — and, so convenient 
 was it to his indolence to take the style as he found it, that, ex- 
 cept, 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 three- 
 fourths of the dialogue. Even that scene where Cora describes 
 the “ white buds” and “ 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. 
 
 But though he is found to be innocent of much of the contra- 
 band matter, with which his co-partner 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 those almost entirely re- 
 written by Sheridan ; and the following medley groupe of per- 
 sonifications affords a specimen of the style to which his taste 
 could descend : — 
 
 “ Then would I point out to him where now, in clustered villages, they 
 live like brethren, social and confiding, while through the burning day 
 Content sits basking on the cheek of Toil, till laughing Pastime leads them 
 to 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. 
 
212 
 
 MEMOIRS OE THE LIFE OF THE 
 
 “ Alomc. They follow an adventurer to the field ; we a monarch whom 
 we love. 
 
 Atalih, And a god whom we adore 
 
 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 trial of Hastings ; — and he had, on the subject of Inva- 
 sion, in the preceding year, (1798,) delivered more tnan once 
 the substance of those patriotic sentiments, which were now so 
 spirit-stirring in the mouth of Rolla. For instance, on the King’s 
 Message relative to preparation for Invasion : — 
 
 “ The Directory may instruct their guards to make the fairest profes- 
 sicns of how their army is to act ; but of these professions surely not one 
 can be believed. The victorious Buonaparte 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 pro- 
 fessions ? 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 bones — 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 at- 
 tend, I say, and examine how little of real liberty they themselves enjoy, 
 who are sc forward and prodigal in bestowing it on others.” 
 
 The speech of Rolla in the prison-scene is also an interpolation 
 of his own, — Kotzebue having, far more judiciously, (considering 
 the unfitness of the moment for a tirade^) condensed the refleo 
 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 to him the 
 idea of writing a song for Cora, of which that gentleman had set 
 him an example in a ballad, beginning 
 
EIGHT HON. EICHAED BKINSLEY SHERIDAN, 21£ 
 
 Soft are thy s umbers, soft and sweet, 
 
 Hush thee, hush thee, hush thee, boy.” 
 
 The song of Mr. Lewis, however, is introduced, with some- 
 what less violence to probability, at the beginning of the Third 
 Act, where the women are waiting for the tidings oi e battle, 
 and when the intrusion of a ballad from the heroine, though 
 sufficiently unnatural, is not quite so monstrous as in the situa- 
 tion which Sheridan has chosen for it. 
 
 The following stanza formed a part of the song, as it was 
 originally written : — 
 
 “ Those eyes that beam’d this morn 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 Sun, 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 im- 
 portant measure of the Union, which he strenuously and at great 
 length opposed. Like every other measure, professing to be for 
 the benefit of Ireland, the Union has been left incomplete in the 
 one essential point, without wffiich 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 hearts,”* 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, with- 
 out entering into much discussion or comment on either. 
 
 Of his speeches in 1800, — during which year, on account, per- 
 haps, of the absence of Mr. Fox from the House, he was particu- 
 
 ♦ “ It lay like lees at the bottom of men’s hearts ; and, if the vessel was but stirred, 
 4 would come up.” — 3 acx)n, IJenry ^71. 
 
S14 
 
 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 
 
 lariy industrious, — I shall select a few brief specimens for the 
 reader. On the quertion of the Grant to the Emperor of Ger- 
 many, he said : — 
 
 I do think, Sir, Jacobin principles never existed much in this country ; 
 and even admitting they had, I say they have been found so hostile to true 
 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 de- 
 test these principles. But 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 had 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 causes and 
 effects of the French Eevolutionary war : — 
 
 ‘‘France, in the beginning of the Revolution, had conceived many ro- 
 mantic 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 rea- 
 lized. The Monarchs of Europe, seeing the prevalence of these new prin- 
 ciples, 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 has been the regular progress of cause and 
 effect ; but who was the first aggressor, with whom the jealousy first arose, 
 need not now be a matter of discussion. Both the Republic and the Mon- 
 archs who opposed her acted on the same principles ; — the latter said they 
 must exterminate Jacobins, and the former that they must destroy mon- 
 archs. From this source have all the calamities of Europe fiowed ; and it 
 is now a waste of time and argument to inquire further into the subject.’^ 
 
 t 
 
 Adverting, in his Speech on the Negotiation with France, to 
 the overtures that had been made for a Maritime Truce, he 
 says, with that national feeling, which rendered him at this time 
 so popular, — 
 
 “ 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 mea 
 sure. Sir, would have broken the heart of the navy, and would have damp- 
 ed all its future exertions. IIow would our gallant sailors have felt, when, 
 chained to their decks like galley-slaves, they saw the enemy’s vessels sail- 
 ing under their bov/s in security, and proceeding, without a possibility erf 
 
EIGHT HOH. EICHABD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 215 
 
 being molested, to revictual those places which had been so long blockaded 
 by their astonishing skill, perseverance, and valor? 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 opinion as to the origin 
 of these hostile dispositions, or pronouncing decidedly whether they are 
 wholly ill-founded, I hesitate not to say, that if they have been excited be- 
 cause we have insisted upon enforcing the old established Maritime Law 
 of Europe, — because we stood boldly forth in defence of indisputable priv- 
 ileges,— because we have refused to abandon the source of our prosperity, 
 the pledge of our security, and the foundation of our naval greatness,— 
 they ought to be disregarded or set at defiance. If we are threatened to 
 be deprived of that which is the charter of our existence, which has pro- 
 cured us the commerce of the world, and been the means of spreading our 
 glory over every land, — if the rights and honors of our flag are to be call- 
 ed 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 indignation, and his hand be stretched forth in defence of 
 his country. If our flag is to be insulted, let us nail it to the top-mast 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 over- 
 whelmed.” 
 
 He thus ridicules, in the same speech, the etiquette that had 
 been observed in the selection of the ministers who were to con- 
 fer with M. Otto : — 
 
 “ This stiff-necked policy shows insincerity. I see Mr. Napean and Mr. 
 Hammond also appointed to confer with M. Otto, because they are of the 
 same rank. Is not this as absurd as if Lord Whitworth were to be sent to 
 Petersburgh, and told that he was not to treat but with some gentleman of 
 six feet high, and as handsome as himself? Sir, I repeat, that this is a stiff- 
 necked policy, when the lives of thousands are at stake.” 
 
 In the following year Mr. Pitt was succeeded, as Prime Mi- 
 nister, by Mr. Addington. The cause assigned for this unex- 
 pected change was the difference of opinion that existed between 
 the King and Mr. Pitt, with respect to the further enfranchise.- 
 ment of the Catholics of Ireland. To this measure the Minis- 
 ter and some of his colleagues considered themselves to have 
 been pledged by the Act of Union ; but, on finding that they 
 
216 
 
 MEMOIKS OF THE LIFE OF THE 
 
 could not carry it, against the scruples of their Boyal 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 King, it was suspected that he had 
 other and less disinterested reasons for his conduct. Indeed, 
 while he took merit to 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 that the motive now assigned for his 
 resignation was false, or that, having sacrificed power to prin- 
 ciple in 1801, he took revenge by making principle, in its turn,, 
 give way tc power in 1804. 
 
 During the early part of the new Administration, Mr. Sher- 
 idan appears to have rested on his arms, — having spoken so 
 rarely and briefly throughout the Session as not to have fur- 
 nished to the collector of his speeches a single specimen of oratory 
 worth recording. It is not till the discussion of the Definitive 
 Treaty, in May, 1802, that he is represented as having professed 
 himself friendly to the existing Ministry : — “ Certainly,” he said, 
 “ I have in several respects given my testimony in favor 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, how- 
 ever, that, in ridiculing the understanding supposed to exist be- 
 tween the Ex-minister and his successor, he left such marks of 
 his wit on the latter as all his subsequent friendship could not 
 efface. Among other remarks, full of humor, he 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 uox ! {looking at Mr. PiWs elevated seat, three or four benches above that 
 of the T'reasury.) Why not have an union of the two Ministers, or, at least, 
 
RIGHT HON. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 217 
 
 some intelligible connection ? When the Ex-minister quitted ofiSce, almost 
 all the subordinate Ministers kept their places. How was it that the whole 
 family did not move together ? Had he only one covered waggon to carry 
 friends and goods ? oi has he left directions behind him that they may know 
 where to call ? I remember a fable of Aristoghaiies' s^ which is translated 
 from Greek into decent English. I mention this for the country gentle- 
 men. It is of a man that sat so long on a seat, (about as long, perhaps, as 
 the Ex-minister did on the Treasury-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 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, “ uhi non apparehat dominiis^'^ hut 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 Gilbert Wakefield, in a Letter to Mr. Fox, which 
 the latter read to Sheridan a few days before the Debate ; and 
 the only remark that Sheridan made, on hearing it, was, ‘‘ What 
 an odd pedantic fancy !” But 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 accustomed skill. The Letter of Wake- 
 field, in which the application of the fable occurs, has been omit- 
 
 * The following is another highly humorous passage from this speech : — “ But let 
 France have colonies I Oh, yes 1 let her have a good trade, that she may be afraid of 
 war, says the Learned Member, — that’s the way to make Buonaparte love peace. He 
 has had, to be sure, a sort of military education. He has been abroad, and is rather 
 rough company ; but if you put him behind the cownter a little, he will mend exceedingly. 
 When I was reading the Treaty, I thought all the names of foreign places, viz. Pondi- 
 cherry, Chandenagore, Cochin, Martinico, &c, all cessions. Not they, — they are all so 
 many traps and holes to catch this silly fellow in, and make a merchant of him 1 I really 
 t_mk the best way upon this principle would be this : — let the merchants of London open 
 » public subscription, and set him up at once. I hear a great deal respecting a certain 
 ztatue about to be erected to the Right Honorable Gentleman, (Mr. Pitt,) now in my eye, 
 at a great expense. Send all that money over to the First Consul, and give him, what 
 you talk of so much. Capital, to begin trade with. I hope the Right Honorable Gentle- 
 man over the way will, like the First Consul, refuse a statue for the present, and post- 
 pone it as a work to posterity. There is no harm, however, in marking out the place. 
 The Right Honorable Gentleman is musing, 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 has not left enough of il. I should, however, propose papier 
 machc and old bank notes !” 
 
 VOL, JI? 
 
 19 
 
218 
 
 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 
 
 ted, I know not why, in his published Correspondence with Mr. 
 Fox : but a Letter of Mr. Fox, in the same collection, thus al- 
 ludes to it: — “Your story of Theseus is excellent, as applicable 
 to our present rulers ; if you could point out to me where 1 
 could find it, I should be much obliged to you. The Scholiast 
 on Aristophanes is too wide a description.” Mr. Wakefield in 
 answer, says, — “ My Aristophanes, with the Scholia, is not here. 
 If I am right in my recollection, the story probably occurs in the 
 Scholia on the Frogs, and would soon be found by reference to 
 the name of Theseus in Kuster’s Index.” ^ 
 
 Another instance of this propensity in Sheridan, (which made 
 him a sort of Catiline in wit, “ covetous of another’s wealth, and 
 profuse 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 following letter from Dr. Parr to Sheridan, this year, 
 records an instance of delicate kindness which renders it well 
 worthy of preservation : — 
 
 “ Dear Sir, 
 
 “ I believe that you and my old pupil Tom feel a lively inter- 
 est in my happiness, and, therefore, I am eager to inform you 
 that, without any solicitation, and in the most handsome man- 
 ner, Sir Francis Burdett has offered me the rectory of Graff ham 
 in Huntingdonshire ; that the yearly value of it now amounts .;o 
 
 ♦ A similar theft was his observation, that “ half the Debt of England had been incu. . sd 
 in pulling down the Bourbons, and the other half in selling them up”— wmcn DOinV. 
 inark he had heard, m conversation, from Sir Arthur 
 
RIGHT HON. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 219 
 
 200Z., and is capable of considerable improvement; that the 
 preferment is tenable with my Northamptonshire rectory ; that 
 the situation is pleasant ; and that, by making it my place of 
 residence, I shall be nearer to my respectable scholar and friend, 
 Edward Maltby, to the University of Cambridge, and to those 
 Norfolk comiections which I value most highly. 
 
 “ I am not much skilled in ecclesiastical negotiations ; and all 
 my efforts to avail myself of the very obliging kindness condi- 
 tionally intended for me by the Duke of Norfolk completely 
 failed. But the noble friendship of Sir Francis Burdett has set 
 everything right. I cannot refuse myself the great satisfaction 
 of laying before you the concluding passage in Sir Francis’s 
 letter : — 
 
 “ ‘ I acknowledge that a great additional motive with me to 
 the offer I now make Dr. Parr, is, that I believe I cannot do any 
 thing more pleasing to his friends, Mr. Fox, Mr. Sheridan, and 
 Mr. Knight; and I desire you, Sir, to consider yourself as oblig- 
 ed to them only.’ 
 
 “ You will readily conceive, that I was highly gratified with 
 this striking 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 honor to be. Dear Sir, your very faithful well-wisher, 
 and respectful, obedient servant, 
 
 “ September 27, Buckden, “ S. Parr.” 
 
 “ 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 at Buckden, near Huntingdon, where I yesterday 
 received it.” 
 
 It was about this time that ':he Primary Electors of the Na 
 tional Institute of France having pioposed Haydn, the grea*; 
 composer, and Mr. Sheridan, as candidates for the class of Li- 
 terature and the Fine Arts the Institute, with a choice not alt<v 
 j^ether ^defensible, elected Haj^d*., Sonae French epigram*:’ 
 
220 
 
 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 
 
 on this occurrence, which appeared in the Courier, seem to have 
 suggested to Sheridan the idea of writing a few English jeux- 
 d* esprit on the same subject, which were intended for the newspa- 
 pers, 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 charac- 
 ter to speak of his own claims to the distinction, is, it must be 
 owned, less remai^kable for modesty than for truth. But Vanity, 
 thus in masquerade, may be allowed some little license. 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, 
 notwithstanding the knowledge which his situation must have 
 given him of the embarrassed state o^the concern, to enter into 
 negotiation with Sheridan for the purchase of a share in the pro- 
 perty. 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 negotiation, and containing some particu- 
 lars 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-Lane Thea- 
 tre. 
 
 I ready tbmk tharc cannot be a negotiation, in matter of purchase and 
 sale, so evidently Lt t'l'o -'d.va itage of both parties, if brought to a satisfac- 
 tory conclusion. 
 
 I am decided that the management of the theatre cannot be respected, 
 or successful, but in the hands of an actual proprietor ; and still the better, 
 if he is himself in the profession, and at the head of it I am desirous, 
 therefore, that Mr. Kenible snould be a proprietor and manager 
 
EIGHT HOH. EICHAED BEINSLEY SHEEIDAN. 221 
 
 “ Mr. Kemble is the person, of all others, who must naturally be desirous 
 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 as- 
 sured of proper respect, &c., while I have the theatre ; but I do not think 
 he could brook his situation were the property to pass into vulgar and il- 
 liberal hands, — an event which he knows contingencies might produce. 
 Laying aside then all affectation of indifference, so common in making bar- 
 gains, 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 con- 
 sidered 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 property, there is no standard, 
 or measure, to direct the price : the whole question is, what are the proba- 
 ble profits, and what is such a proportion of them worth ? 
 
 “I bought of Mr. Garrick at the rate of 70,000Z. for the whole theatre. 
 I bought of Mr. Lacey at the rate of 94,000/. ditto. I bought of Dr. Ford 
 at the rate of 86,000/. ditto. In all these cases there was a perishable pa- 
 tent, and an expiring lease, each having to run, at the different periods of 
 the purchases, from ten to twenty years only. 
 
 “ All these purchases have undoubtedly answered well ; but in the chance 
 of a Third Theatre consisted the risk ; and the want of size and accommo- 
 dation must have produced it, had the theatres continued 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 the Monarchy, Constitu- 
 tion, Public Funds, &c., — as appears by No. 1. 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, &c. ; 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 for- 
 mer sales, is out of all comparison, — independently of the new building, 
 superior size, raised prices, &c., &c. But the incumbrances on the theatre, 
 whose annual charge must be paid before there can be any surplus profit, 
 are much greater than in Mr. Garrick^s time, or on the old theatre after- 
 wards. Undoubtedly they are, and very considerably greater ; but what 
 is the proportion of the receipts ? Mr. Garrick realized and left a fortune 
 
 of 140,000/. (having lived, certainly, at no mean expense,) acquired in 
 
 years, on an average annual receipt of 25,000/. (qu. this ?) Our receipts 
 cannot be stated at less than 60,000/. per ann. ; and it is demonstrable that 
 preventing the most palpable frauds and abuses, with even a tolerable sys- 
 of exertion in the management, must bring it, at the least, to 75,000/.; 
 and this estimate does not include the advantages to be derived from the 
 new tavern, passages, Chinese hall, &c., — an aid to the receipt, respecting 
 
222 
 
 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 
 
 the amount of which I am very sanguine. What then, is the proba,bIe pro- 
 fit, and y^hat is a quarter of it worth ? No. 3. is the amount of three sea- 
 sons’ receipts, the only ones on which an attempt at an average could be 
 justifiable. No. L is the future estimate, on a system of exertion and good 
 management. No. 5. the actual annual incumbrances. No. 6. the nightly 
 expenses. No. 7. the estimated profits. Calculating on which, I demand 
 for a quarter of the property, * * * *^ reserving to myself the 
 
 existing private boxes, but no more to be created, and the fruit-oflSces 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 engage- 
 ment as an actor for any rational time he pleases. Mr. Kemble shall be 
 manager, with a clear salary of 500 guineas per annum, and * * per cent, 
 
 on the clear profits. Mr. Sheridan engages to procure from Messrs. Ham- 
 mersleys 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 se- 
 curity, and also to leave his other securities, now in their hands, in mort- 
 gage 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 private box is also made 
 over to Mr. Kemble, for the whole term of the theatre lease, its value can- 
 not be stated at less than 3,500Z. Indeed, it might at any time produce to 
 Mr. Kemble, or his assigns, 300Z. per annum. Vide No. 8. This is a mate- 
 rial deduction from the purchase-money to be paid. 
 
 Supposing all this arrangement made, I conceive Mr. Kemble’s income 
 would stand thus : 
 
 
 £ 
 
 s. 
 
 d. 
 
 Salary as an actor, 
 
 - 1050 
 
 0 
 
 0 
 
 In lieu of benefit. 
 
 - - 315 
 
 0 
 
 0 
 
 As manager, - - - 
 
 - 525 
 
 0 
 
 0 
 
 Per centage on clear profit. 
 
 - - - 300 
 
 0 
 
 0 
 
 Dividend on quarter-share. 
 
 - *2500 
 
 0 
 
 0 
 
 £4690 0 0 
 
 “ I need not say how soon this would clear the whole of the purchase. 
 With regard to the title, &c. 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 adver- 
 
 ♦ “I put this on the very lowest speculation.’ 
 
Right hoh. eiciiard erihsley sheridan-. 228 
 
 tisemciit, to be sent to Mr. Kemble’s own solicitor. In short, Mr. Crews 
 shall be satisfied that there does not exist an unsatisfied demand on the 
 theatre, or a possibility of Mr. Kemble being involved in the risk of a shil- 
 ling. Mr. Hammersley, or such person as Mr. Kemble and Mr. Sheridan 
 shall agree on, to be Treasurer, and receive and account for the whole re- 
 ceipts, pay the charges, trusts, &c. j and, at the close of the season, the sur- 
 plus profits to the proprietors. A clause in case of death, or sale, to give 
 che refusal to each other.’’ 
 
 The following letter from Sheridan to Kemble, in answer, as 
 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 ; — 
 
 “ Dear Kemble, 
 
 “ If I had not a real good opinion of your principles and in- 
 tentions upon 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 
 becoming troublesome is information which I do not want, and a 
 discovery w^hich I thought you had made long since. 
 
 “ I should be sorry to write to you gravely on your offer, be- 
 cause 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 in- 
 volved 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 confi- 
 dence 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, not arising from the 
 trouhlesomeness ot your situation, it is childish and unmanly not 
 to disclose it to me. The frankness with which I have always 
 
224 
 
 MEMOIRS OE THE LIFE OF THE 
 
 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, at- 
 tributing your letter to a disorder which I know ought not to be 
 indulged, I prescribe that you shall keep your 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.” 
 
RIGHT KOH. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 225 
 
 CHAPTEE IX. 
 
 SI ATE OF PARTIES. — OFFER OF A PLACE TO MR. T. 
 SHERIDAN. — RECEIVERSHIP OF THE DUCHY OF CORN- 
 WALL BESTOWED UPON ME, SHd^RIDAN. — RETURN OF 
 MR. PITT TO POWER. — CATHO 1 .IC QUESTION. — ADMINIS- 
 TRATION OF LORD GRENVILLE AND MR. FOX. — DEATH 
 OF MR. FOX. — REPRESENTATION OF WESTMINSTER. — 
 DISMISSION OF THE MINISTRY. — THEATRICAL NEGOTIA- 
 TION. — 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 
 between two vast waves, — such a change took place in the 
 relative positions and bearings of the parties that had been so 
 long arrayed against each other, and such new boundaries and 
 divisions of opinion were formed, as considerably altered the map 
 of the political world. While Air. Pitt lent his sanction to the 
 new Administration, they, who had made common cause with him 
 in resigning, violently opposed it ; and, while the Ivlinisters were 
 thus thwarted by those who had hitherto always agreed with them, 
 they were supported by those Whigs with whom they had before 
 most vehemently differed. Among this latter class of their friends 
 was, as I have already remarked, Air. Sheridan, — who, convinced 
 that the only chance of excluding Air. Pitt from power lay in 
 strengthening the hands of those who were in possession, not only 
 gave them the aid of his own nam.e and eloquence, but endea- 
 vored to impress the same views upon Air. Fox, and exerted 
 his influence also to procure the sanction of Carlton-House in 
 their favor. 
 
 VOL. II, 
 
 10 ^ 
 
226 
 
 MEMOIRS of THE LIFE OP THE 
 
 It cannot, indeed, be doubted that Sheridan, at this time, 
 though still the 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 Sheridan joined in the 
 popular feeling against France, and showed his knowledge of 
 that great instrument, the Public Mind, by approaching it onlv 
 with such themes as suited the martial mood to which it was 
 tuned, the too confiding spirit of Fox breathed nothing but for- 
 bearance and peace ; — and he who, in 1786, had proclaimed the 
 “ natural enmity ” of England and France, as an argument against 
 their commercial intercourse, now asked, with the softened tone 
 which time and retirement had taught him, “ whether France 
 was for ever to be considered our rival 
 
 The following characteristic note, written by him previously 
 to the debate on the Army Estimates, (December 8, 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 con- 
 versation before the business begins. Remember, I do not wish 
 you to be inconsistent, at any rate. Pitt’s opinion by Proxy is 
 ridiculous beyond conception, and 1 hope you will show it in that 
 light. I am very much against your abusing Bonaparte, because 
 I am sure it is impolitic both for the country and ourselves. But, 
 as you please ; — only, for God’s sake. Peace. j- 
 
 “ Yours ever 
 
 “ Tuesday night “ C. J. Fox.” 
 
 It was about this period that the writer of these pages had, 
 
 * Speech on the Address of Thanks in 1803. 
 
 t These last words are an interesting illustration of the line in Mr. Rogers’s Verses on 
 this statesman : — 
 
 “ ‘ Peace,’ when he spoke, was ever on his tongue.” 
 
klQrUT HON. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 22 ? 
 
 for the first tim,e, the gratification of meeting Mr. Sheridan^ at 
 Donington-Park, the seat of the present Marquis of Hastings ; 
 —a circumstance which he recalls, not only with those lively im- 
 pressions, that our first admiration of genius leaves behind, but 
 with many other dreams of youth and hope, that still endear to 
 him the mansion 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 furnish- 
 ing a new house, and talked of a plan he had of levying contri- 
 butions on his friends for a library. A set of books from each 
 would, he calculated, amply accomplish it, and already the inti- 
 mation of his design had begun to “ breathe a soul into the silent 
 walls.”* The splendid and well-chosen library of Donington* 
 was, of course, not slow in furnishing its contingent ; and little 
 was it foreseen into what badges of penury these gifts of friend- 
 ship would be converted at last. 
 
 As some acknowledgment of the services which Sheridan had 
 rendered 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 
 Registrar of the Vice- Admiralty Court of Malta, — an office which, 
 during a period of war, is supposed to be of considerable emol- 
 ument. The first impulse of Sheridan, when consulted on the 
 proposal, was, as I have heard, not unfavorable to his son’s accept- 
 ance of it. But, on considering the new position which he had, 
 himself, lately taken in politics, and the inference that might be 
 drawn against the indepen denee of his motives, if he submitted 
 to an obligation wdiich was but too liable to be interpreted, as less 
 a return for past services than a lien upon him for future ones, 
 (le thought it safest for his character to sacrifice the advantage, 
 md, 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 honor to her generosity, spirit, and 
 good sense. They also confirm what has generally been under- 
 stood, that the King, about this time, sent a most gracious mes- 
 
 ♦ Rogers 
 
228 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 
 
 sage tc Sheridan, expressive of the approbation with wliich he 
 regarded his public conduct, and of the pleasure he should feel 
 in conferiing upon him some mark of his Royal favor: — 
 
 “ 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 that honor 
 does not compel you to refuse ? Don’t you know that when once 
 the King takes offence, he was never known to forgive 1 I sup- 
 pose 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 attributing your refusal to contempt and 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 world 
 for that purpose, and to live in any way whatever. Whatever 
 he has now ought to be certain, or how will he know how to re- 
 gulate his expenses 
 
 The fate, indeed, of young Sheridan was peculiarly tantalizing. 
 Born 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 
 disappointment, his only inheritance, behind. Unprovided with 
 any profe:??sion by which he could secure his own independence, 
 and shut out, as in this instance, from those means of advance- 
 ment, which, it was feared, might compromise the independence 
 of his father, he was made the victim even of the distinction of 
 his situation, 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, — 
 but he knew how to attach as well as amuse; and, though 
 living chiefly with that class of persons, who pass over the sur- 
 
BIGHT HOH. BICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 229 
 
 face of life, like Camilla over the corn, without leaving any im- 
 pression of themselves heliind, 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 Eoyal Highness the Duke of 
 York is distinguished, there are none that do him more honor 
 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 
 immediate invasion was threatened by the enemy, the Heir Ap- 
 parent, with the true spirit of an English Prince, came forward 
 to make an offer of his personal service to the country. A cor- 
 respondence 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 King. It has been 
 sometimes stated that these letters were from the pen of Mr. 
 Sheridan ; 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 felt as strongly by Sheridan as any thing can be felt, by those 
 wffio, in the whirl of worldly pursuits, revolve too rapidly round 
 Self, to let any thing rest long upon their stirface. With a fidelity 
 to his old habits of unpunctuality, at which the shade of Richardson 
 might have smiled, he arrived too late at Bagshot for the funeral 
 of his friend, but succeeded in persuading the good-natured cler- 
 gyman to perform the ceremony over again. Mr. John Taylor, 
 a ‘gentleman, 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 assistaijfis at this shigular 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 
 opinions, into which the two leading parties were decomposed by 
 
230 
 
 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 
 
 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 adverse ranks as would enable them to contest his resumption 
 of the trust, had gradually withdrawn the sanction which he at 
 first afforded them, and taken his station by the side of the other 
 two parties 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. Wmdham were the lead- 
 ers, now entered into close co-operation with this new Opposition, 
 and seemed inclined to forget both recent and ancient differences 
 in a combined assault upon the tottering Administration of Mr. 
 Addington. 
 
 The only parties, perhaps, that 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 that such was the true policy of his party, — he perse- 
 vered in, notwithstanding the suspicion it drew down upon him, to 
 the last; and, to the fhst, deprecated the connection 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 before.'^ In like manner, it must be owned the 
 Opposition, of which Lord Grenville was the head, held a course 
 direct and undeviating from beginning to end. Unfettered by 
 those reservations in favor of Addington, which so long ernbar- 
 
 * In a letter written this year by Mr. Thomas Sheridan to his father, there is the fol- 
 lowing passage : — 
 
 “ I am glad you intend writing to Lord ; he is quite right about politics, — ^reprobates 
 
 the idea most strongly of any union with the Grenvilles, &c. which, he says, he sees is 
 Fox’s leaning. ‘ I agreed with your father pfrfectly on the subject, when I left him in 
 town ; but when I saw Charles at St. Ann’s Hill, I perceived he was wrong and obsti- 
 nat5.’» 
 
HIGHT HON. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 2S1 
 
 rassed the movements of their former leader, they at once started 
 in opposition to the Peace anc. the Mmistry, and, with not only 
 Mr. Pitt and Mr. Fox, but the whole people of England against 
 them, persevered till they had ranged all these several parties 
 on their side : — nor was it altogether vrithout reason that this 
 party afterwards boasted that, if any abandonment of principle 
 had occurred in the connection 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. 
 Sheridan, “ as a triffing proof of that sincere friendship Ilis Royal 
 Highness had always professed and felt for him through a long 
 series of years.” His Royal Highness also added, in the same 
 communication, the very cordial words, “ I wish to God it was 
 better worth your acceptance.” 
 
 The following letter from Sheridan to Mr. Addington, com- 
 municating the intelligence of this appointment, shows pretty 
 plainly the terms on which he not only now stood, but was well 
 inclined to continue, with that Minister : — 
 
 “Dear Sir, George- Street^ Tuesday evening, 
 
 “ Convinced as I am of the sincerity of your good will towards 
 me, I 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 Duchy of Cornwall. I feel a desire to communi- 
 cate 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 humble efforts to serve the Prince without ever accepting the 
 slightest obligation from him ; but, in the present case, and under 
 the 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 favor. I will not 
 disguise that, at this peculiar crisis, I am greatly gratified at this 
 event. Had it been the result of a mean and subservient dev(# 
 
232 
 
 MEMOtBS OF THE LIFE OF THE 
 
 tion to the Prince's every wish and object, I could neither havt 
 respected the gift, thp. giver, nor myself ; but when I consider how 
 recently it was my misfortune to rind myself compelled by a 
 sense of duty, stronger than my attachment to Irim, wholly to 
 risk the situation I held in his conridence and favor, and that upon 
 a subject* on which his feelings were so eager and irritable, I 
 cannot but regard the increased attention, with which he has since 
 honored me, as a most gratifying demonstration that he has clear- 
 ness of judgment and firmness of spirit to distinguish the real 
 friends to his true glory and interests from the mean and mer- 
 cenary sycophants, who fear and abhor that such friends should 
 be near him. It is satisfactory 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 seem 
 ingly 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 honor to 
 be, with great respect and esteem, 
 
 “Your obedient Servant, 
 
 “ Right Hon, Henry Addington, “ R. B. Sheridan.” 
 
 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 him- 
 self in its ranks as Treasurer of the Navy. In the early part of 
 
 * The offer made by the Prince of his personal services in 1803, — on which occasion 
 Sheridan coincided with the views of Mr. Addington somewhat more than was agree- 
 Ale to His Royal Higlmess. 
 
RIGHT HOH. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 233 
 
 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, oroceeded 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 him under the present circumstances. His Royal 
 Highness also added the expression of his sincere regret, that a 
 proposal of this nature should ha,ve been submitted to his con- 
 sideration 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 connection 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 
 himself, by office, with the Ministry of Mr. Addington, (and pro- 
 posals to this effect were, it is certain, made to him,) his knowl- 
 edge of the existence of such feelings as prompted this answer to 
 Mr. Erskine would, of course, have been sufficient to divert him 
 Tom 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 
 proceedings of his party at this time, which, coming from such 
 & source, may be considered as authentic : — 
 
 “ State of Parties. 
 
 “ Among the various rumors of Coalitions, or attempted Co- 
 abdons, we have already expressed our disbelief in that reported 
 tc lave taken place between the Grenville-Windhamites and Mr. 
 
234 
 
 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 
 
 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 sub- 
 ject 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 
 nad, 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 w^ere 
 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 re- 
 place in power. At such a momentous 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 stated to be a proceeding which would assuredly revolt 
 the public feeling, degrade the character of Parliament, and pro- 
 duce 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 of 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. Rumor 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, 
 Shendan, Shum. Curwen, Western, Brogden, and a long et ccetera. 
 It is said also that the Prince’s sanction had been previously 
 
RiaHT HON. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 235 
 
 given to the Duke, — His Royal Highness deprecating all party- 
 struggle, at a moment when the defence of all that is dear to 
 Britons ought to be the single sentiment that should fill the pub- 
 lic mind. 
 
 '‘We do not vouch for the above being strictly accurate ; but 
 we are confident that it is not far from the truth.” 
 
 The illness of the King, referred to in this paper, had been 
 first 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 negotiations preparatory to such a measure. It appears, 
 from a letter of Mr. Fox on the subject, that the Prince and 
 another person, whom it is unnecessary to name, were at one mo- 
 ment not a little alarmed by a rumor of an intention to associ- 
 ate 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 the date 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 connection of their party with the Gren- 
 villes took place, in the resignation of Mr. Addington and the 
 return of Mr. Pitt to power. 
 
 The confidence of Mr. Pitt, in thus taking upon himself, almost 
 
 • To the infliction of this nickname on his friend, Mr. Addington, Sheridan was, in. no 
 email degree, accessory, by applying to those who disapproved of his administration, 
 and yet gave no reasons for their disapprobation, the well-known lines, — 
 
 “I do not love thee. Doctor Fell, 
 
 And why I cannot tell • 
 
 But this I know full well, 
 
 I do not love thee, Doctor Fell.” 
 
236 
 
 MEMOIPS OF THE LIFE OF THE 
 
 single-handed, the government of the country at suci an awful 
 crisis, was, he soon perceived, not shared by the public. A ge- 
 neral expectation had prevailed that the three great Parties, 
 which had late'y been encamped together on the field of opposi 
 tion, would have each sent its Chiefs into the public councils, and 
 thus formed such a Congress of power and talent as the difficul 
 ties of the empire, in that trying moment, demanded. This 
 hope had been frustrated by the repugnance of the King to Mr. 
 Fox, and the too ready facility with which Mr. Pitt had given 
 w^ay to it. Not only, indeed, in his undignified eagerness for of- 
 fice, did he sacrifice without stipulation the important question, 
 which, but two years before, had been made the sine-qua~non of 
 his services, but, in yielding so readily to the Royal prejudices 
 against hie rival, he gave a sanction to that unconstitutional prin- 
 cipje of exclusion,^ which, if thus acted upon by the party-feelings 
 of the Monarch, would soon narrow the Throne into the mere 
 nucleus of a fiivored faction. In allowing, too, his friends and 
 partisans to throw the whole blame of this exclusive Ministry on 
 the King, he but repeated the indecorum of which he had been 
 guilty in 1802. For, having at that time made use of the reli- 
 gious prejudices of the Monarch, as a pretext for his manner of 
 quitting office, he now employed the political prejudices of the 
 same personage, as an equally convenient excuse for his manner 
 of returning to it. 
 
 A few extracts from the speech of Mr. Sheridan upon the Ad- 
 ditional Force Bill, — the only occasion on which he seems to have 
 spoken during the present year, — will show that the rarity of his 
 displays was not owing to any failure of power, but rather, per- 
 
 * “ This principle of personal exclusion, (said LoiU ville.) is one of which I never 
 can approve, because, independently of its operation to prevent Parliament and the peo- 
 ple from enjoying the Administration they desired, and which it was their particular in- 
 terest to have, it tends to establish a dangerous precedent, that would afftrd loo much 
 opportunity of private pique against the public mtere..t. I, for one, therefore, refused to 
 connect myself with any one argument that sh mid sanction that principle ; and, :n my 
 opinion, every man who accepted office under that Ami' istration is, according to Jtie let- 
 ter and spirit of the constitution, responsible for its character and construction, and the 
 principle upon which it is founded .” — Sjtscch of Lord Grentrilleon the motion of Lord 
 Damleyfor the repeal of the AdditUmal Force F b. 15, 1806. 
 
ttlGHT HOiJ. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 23< 
 
 haps, to the increasing involvement of his circumstances, which 
 left no time for the thought and preparation that all his public 
 efforts required. 
 
 Mr. Pitt had, at the commencement of this year, condescended 
 to call to his aid the co-operation of Mr. Addington, Lord Buck- 
 inghamshire, and other members of that Administration, which 
 had withered away, but a few months before, under the blight 
 of his sarcasm and scorn. In alluding to this Coalition, Sheridan 
 says,— 
 
 The Right Honorable Gentleman v/ent into office alone ; — but, lest the 
 government should become too full of vigor from his support, he thought 
 proper to beckon back some of the weakness of the former administration. 
 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 ; 
 that the administration would be too brilliant, and dazzle the House, unless 
 he called back a certain part of the mist and fog of the last administration 
 to render it tolerable to the eye. As to the great change made in the Mi- 
 nistry by the introduction of the Right Honorable Gentleman himself, I 
 vould ask, does he imagine that he came back to office with the same esti- 
 mation that he left it? lam sure he is much mistaken if he fancies that he 
 did. The Right Honorable Gentleman retired from office because, as was 
 stated, he could not carry an important question, which he deemed neces- 
 sary to satisfy the just claims of the Catholics ; and in going out he did not 
 hesitate to tear off the sacred veil of Majesty, describing his Sovereign as 
 the only person that stood in the way of this desirable object. After the 
 Right Honorable Gentleman's retirement, he advised the Catholics to look 
 to no one but him for the attainment of their rights, and cautiously to ab- 
 stain from forming a connection with any other person. But how does it 
 appear, now that the Right Honorable Gentleman is returned to office ? 
 He declines to perform his promise ; and has received, as his coUeagues in 
 office, those who are pledged to resist the measure. Does not the Right 
 Honorable Gentleman then feel that he comes back to office with a cha- 
 racter degraded by the violation of a solemn pledge, given to a great and 
 respectable body of the people, upon a particular and momentous occasion ? 
 Does the Right Honorable 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 un- 
 founded 
 
238 
 
 Memoirs of me life of thf 
 
 In alluding to Lord Melville’s appointment 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 V 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 Honorable Gentleman should say to 
 me, ‘ Where else would you put that Noble Lord, would you have him ap- 
 pointed War-Minister again V I should say, Oh no, by no means, — I re- 
 member 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 responsibility the Commander in Chief 
 and the Secretary at War. I also remember that, which, although so glo- 
 rious to our arms in the result, I still shall call a most unwarrantable 
 project, — the expedition to Egypt. It may be said, that as the Noble Lord 
 was so unfit for the military department, the naval was the proper place 
 for him. Perhaps there were people who would adopt this whimsical rea- 
 soning. I remember a story told respecting Mr. Garrick, who was once 
 applied to by an eccentric Scotchman, to introduce a production of his on 
 the stage. This Scotchman was such a good-humored fellow, that he was 
 called ^ Honest Johnny M’Cree.’ Johnny wrote four acts of a tragedy, 
 which he showed to 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 tragedy, and of course could not be persuaded to bring it forward on 
 the stage. This surprised poor Johnny, and he remonstrated. ^ Nay, now, 
 David, (said Johnny,) did you not tell me my talents did not lie in tra- 
 gedy?’ — ‘ Yes, (replied Garrick,) but I did not tell you that they lay in 
 comedy.’ — ^ Then, (exclaimed Johnny,) gin they dinna lie there, where the 
 de’il dittha lie, mon ?’ Unless the Noble Lord at the head of the Admiral- 
 ty has the same reasoning in his mind as Johnny MUree, he cannot poss^ 
 bly suppose thah 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, ^ Gin they dinna lie there, where the 
 de’il dittha lie, mon ?’ ” 
 
 On the 10th of May, the claims of the Roman Catholics of Ire 
 
fiON. iliCHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 239 
 
 land, were, for the first time, brought under the notice of the Im- 
 perial 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. Sheri- 
 dan was made the medium of a communication from Carlton- 
 House, the object of which was to prevent Mr. Fox from pre- 
 senting the Petition. 
 
 “Dear Sheridan, 
 
 “ I did not receive your letter till last night. 
 
 “ I did, on Thursday, consent to be the presenter of the Catho- 
 lic Petition, at the request of the Delegates, and had further con- 
 versation 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 thAs 
 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 dis- 
 obey any command of His Eoyal 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 endeavor to see the Prince to-day ; but, if I 
 should fail, pray take care that he knows how things stand before 
 we meet at dinner, lest any conversation there 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- 
 stances of this singular interference, to enter into any specu- 
 lations 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 
 
240 memoirs of the life of thS 
 
 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, as a tonic, the reluctant alliance of Lord 
 Sidmouth, — the abortiveness of his efforts to avert the fall of his 
 old friend, Lord Melville, and the fatality of ill luck 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 carrying by storm 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 
 Grenville and Mr. Fox, bore a resemblance to the celebrated 
 Brass of Corinth, 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 parties of the leading chiefs, but those 
 W higs who differed with them both under the Addington Minis- 
 try, and the Addingtons that differed with them all on the sub- 
 ject of the Catholic claims. With this last anomalous additiof 
 to the miscellany the influence of Sheridan S mainly chargeable. 
 Having, for some time past, exerted all his powers of manage- 
 ment to bring about a coalition between Carlton-House and Lord 
 Sidmouth, he had been at length so successful, that upon the 
 formation of the present Ministry, it was the express desire of 
 the Prince that Lord Sidmouth should constitute a part of it 
 ( 
 
 ♦ See in the Annual Register of 1806, some able remarks upon Coalitions in general, rj 
 well as a temperate defence of this Coalition in particular, — for which that work is, I sus- 
 pect, indebted to a hand such as has not often, since the time of Burke, enriched its pagw 
 
lilGHT HON. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 241 
 
 To the same unlucky influence, too, is to be traced the very 
 questionable measure, (notwithstanding the great learning and 
 ability with which it was defended,) of introducing the Chief 
 Justice, Lord Ellenborough, into the Cabinet. 
 
 As to Sheridan’s own share in the arrangements, it was, no 
 doubt, expected by him that he should now be included among 
 the members of the Cabinet ; and it is probable that Mr. Fox, 
 at the head of a purely Whig ministry, would have so far con- 
 sidered 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 distinction and confidence. But there w'ere other 
 interests to be consulted ; — and the undisguised earnestness with 
 which Sheridan had opposed the union of his party 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 accept any such office as that of Trea- 
 surer of the Navy, for the responsibility and business of which 
 they knew his habits so wholly unfitted him, — but that, if exclud- 
 ed by his colleagues from the distinction of a seat in the Cabi- 
 net, he should decline all office whatsoever, and take his chance 
 in a friendly independence of them. But the time was now past 
 when he could afford to adopt this policy, — the emoluments of a 
 place were too necessary to him to be rejected ; — and, in accept- 
 ing the same office that had been allotted to him in the Regency- 
 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 the 
 interval. 
 
 The period of this Ministry, connected with the name of Mr. 
 .f^ox, though brief, and in some respects, far from laudable, was 
 distinguished by two measures, — the Plan of Limited Service, 
 and the Resolution for the Abolition of the Slave-Trade, — which 
 will long be remembered to the honor 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 melan- 
 
 VOL. II. 11 
 
242 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THfi 
 
 choly admiration that Pliny expresses, in speaking of a beautiful 
 picture, the painter of which had died in finishing it, — dolor 
 manus^ diim id ageret^ abreptce ,’^' — comes naturally over bur hearts 
 in thinking of the last glorious work, to which this illustrious 
 statesman, in dying, set his hand. 
 
 Though it is not true, as has been asserted, that Mr. Fox re- 
 finked to see Sheridan in his last illness, it is but too certain that 
 those appearances of alienation or reserve, which had been for 
 some time past observable in the 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 that he put the last, solemn seal to their long inti- 
 macy, by following his friend, as mourner, to the grave. 
 
 The honor of representing the city of Westminster in Parlia- 
 ment had been, for some time, one of the dreams of Sheridan’s 
 ambition. It was suspected, indeed, — 1 know not with what jus- 
 tice, — that in advising Mr. Fox, as he is said to have done, about 
 the year 1800, to secede from public life altogether, he was actu- 
 ated by a wish to succeed him in the representation of West- 
 minster, and had even already set on foot some private negotia- 
 tions 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 to himself, but the pub- 
 lic, that he was the person naturally pointed out as most fit to 
 be his parliamentary successor. It was, therefore, with no slight 
 degTee of disappointment he discc^vered, that the ascendancy of 
 Aristocratic influence was, as usual, to prevail, 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, in 
 justice to the Ministry, to state, that the neglect with which they 
 appear to have treated him on this occasion, — particularly in nol 
 apprising him of their decision in favor of Lord Percy, suffi 
 ciently early to save him from the hrmiliaticn of a fruitless at 
 
RIGHT HOH. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 243 
 
 tempt, — is proved, by the following letters, to have originated in 
 a double misapprehension, by which, while Sheridan, on one side, 
 was led to believe that the Ministers would favor his pretensions, 
 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 Sheri- 
 dan’s intimate friends,) who seems to have been, unintentionally, 
 the cause of the mistake on both sides. 
 
 “ Dear , Somerset-Place, September 14. 
 
 “ You must have seen by my manner, yesterday,- how much I 
 w'as 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 Westmins- 
 ter, and that you had since been the active agent in the canvass 
 actually commenced. I do not like to think I have grounds to com- 
 plain or change my opinion of any friend, without being very 
 explicit, and opening my mind, without reserve, on such a sub- 
 ject. 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 inten- 
 tion to offer for Westminster on the apprehended vacancy. 1 
 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 re- 
 collection ; for I solemnly protest I considered you as the indi 
 vidual most distinctly apprised, that at this moment to succeed 
 that great man and revered friend in Westminster, should the fa 
 tal event take place, would be the highest object of my ambi 
 lion ; for, in that conversation I thanked you expressly for in 
 forming 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. Sheridan had been spoken to, and his 
 intentions known J or words precisely to that effect. I expressed 
 my grateful sense of Lord Grenville’s attention, and said, that it 
 
244 MEMOIRS OF l^HE LIFE OF THE 
 
 would confirm me m my intention of making no application^ 
 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 I.ordship. Since that time 1 think we have not hap- 
 pened to meet ; at least sure 1 am, we have had no conversation 
 on the subject. Having the highest opinion of Lord Grenville’s 
 honor and sincerity, I must be confident that he must have had 
 another impression made on his mind respecting my wishes be- 
 fore I was entirely passed by. I do not mean to say that my 
 offering myself was immediately to entitle me to the support of 
 Government, but I do mean to say, that my pretensions were 
 entitled to consideration before that support was offered to ano- 
 ther without the slightest notice taken of me, — the more espe- 
 cially as the words of Lord Grenville, reported by you to me, 
 had been stated by me to many friends as my reliance and jus- 
 tification in not following their advice by making a direct appli- 
 cation 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 authorize you to inform Lord Grenville that I had 
 abandoned the idea of offering myself ? These are points which 
 it is necessary, for the honor of all parties, should be amicably 
 explained. I therefore propose, as the shortest way of effecting 
 it,— v/ishing you not to consider this letter as in any degree con- 
 fidential, — 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 dis- 
 tinctly to say, that I feel myself indebted for the fairness and 
 kindness of his intentions towards me. My disappointment 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 
 
RIGHT HON. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 245 
 
 understood whether or not 1 deceived them, when I led them to 
 expect that I should have that support. 
 
 “ 1 hope to remain ever yours sincerely, 
 
 “ R. B. Sheridan. 
 
 The sooner the reference I propose the better.” 
 
 The second letter, which is still further explanatory of the 
 misconception, was addressed by Sheridan to Lord Grenville : 
 
 “ My dear Lord, 
 
 “ Since I had the honor of Your Lordship’s letter, I have re- 
 ceived one from Mr. , in which, I am sorry to observe he 
 
 is silent as to my offer of meeting, in the presence of a third per- 
 son, in order to ascertain whether he did or not so report a con- 
 versation with Your Lordship as to impress on my mind a belief 
 that my pretensions would be 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 allows 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 stipulation I have made is that we should come to an 
 explicit understanding on this subject, — not with a view to quot- 
 ing words or repeating names, but that the misapprehension, 
 whatever it was, may be so admitted as not to leave me under 
 an unmerited degree of discredit and disgrace. Mr. cer- 
 
 tainly never encouraged me to stand for Westminster, but, on 
 the contrary, advised me to support Lord Percy, which made me 
 the more mark at the time the fairness with which I thought he 
 apprised me of the preference my pretensions were likely to ro 
 ceive in Your Lordship’s consideration. 
 
 “ Unquestionably Your Lordship’s recollection of what passed 
 
 betw^een 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 w'hat has astonished me 
 
 is, that Mr. should ever have informed Your Lordship, 
 
 p he admits he did, that I had no intention of offering myself 
 
246 
 
 MEMOIKS OF THE LIFE OF THE 
 
 This naturally must have put from your mind whatever degree 
 of disposition was there to have made a preferable application to 
 me ; and Lord Howick’s answer to your question, on which I 
 have ventured to make a friendly remonstrance, must have con- 
 firmed 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 for me 
 and informed me that it was at all an object to you that I should 
 give way to Lord Percy, I assure you, with the utmost sincerity, 
 that I should cheerfully have withdrawn myself, and applied eve^ 
 ry 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 be^ 
 fore Your Lordship. This I conceive to be a preliminary due to 
 my own honor, and what he ought not to evade.” 
 
 The Address which he delivered, at the Crown and Anchor 
 Tavern, in declining the offer of support which many of the elec- 
 tors still pressed upon him, contains some of those touches of 
 personal feeling which a biographer is more particularly bound 
 to preserve. In speaking of Mr. Fox, 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 endeavored to represent these differ- 
 ences as a departure from the homage which his superior mind, though un- 
 claimed by him, was entitled to, and from the allegiance of friendship 
 which our hearts all swore to him. But never was the genuine and con- 
 fiding texture of his soul more manifest than on such occasions ; he knew 
 that nothing on earth could detach me from him ; and he resented insinua- 
 tions 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 the congratulation 
 that attends the retrospect of my public life. His friendship was the pride 
 and honor of my days. I never, for one moment, regretted to share with 
 him the difficulties, the calunuiies, and sometimes even the dangers, that 
 
lUGHT HON. EICHAED BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 247 
 
 attended an honorable course. And now, reviewing my past political life, 
 were the option possible that I should retread the path, I solemnly and de- 
 liberately declare that I would prefer to pursue the same course ; to bear 
 up inder 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 vnth power, honor, titles, gorged with sinecures, 
 and lord of hoards obtained from the plunder of the people.’’ 
 
 At the conckision of his Address he thus alludes, with evi- 
 dently a deep feeling of discontent, to the circumstances that had 
 obliged him to decline the honor 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 honor. Independence is in the mind of a 
 man, or it is no where. On this ground were I to decline the contest, I 
 should scorn the im.putation that should bring the purity of my purpose 
 into doubt. No Minister can expect to find in me a servile vassal. No Mi- 
 nister can expect from me the abandonment of any principle I have avowed, 
 or any pledge I have given. I know not that I have hitherto shrunk 
 in place from opinions I have maintained while in oppposition. Did there 
 exist a Minister of a different cast from any I know in being, were he to 
 attempt to exact from me a different conduct, my office should be at his 
 service to-morrow. Such a Minister might 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^ortion of the confidence and good 
 opinion of the people. But I am noticing the calumnious threat I allude 
 to more than it deserves. There can be no peril, I venture to assert, un- 
 der the present Government, in the fi'ee exercise of discretion, such as be- 
 longs to the present question. I therefore disclaim the merit of putting 
 anything to hazard. If I have missed the opportunity of obtaining all the 
 support I might, perhaps, have had on the present occasion, from a ver^ 
 
248 
 
 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 
 
 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 can 
 not 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. — I 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 re- 
 luctance, because, from the marked approbation I have experienced from 
 you, I fear that with reluctance you will 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 with 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 mo- 
 ment, named Pauli, was, together with Sir Samuel Hood, declared 
 duly elected. 
 
 The moderate measure in favor 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, by which the people of England have 
 so often disgraced themselves. It is sometimes a misfortune to 
 men of wit, that they put their opinions in a form to be remem- 
 bered. We might, perhaps, have been ignorant of the keen, but 
 worldly view which Mr. Sheridan, on this occasion, took of the 
 hardihood of his colleagues, 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 too sagacious and 
 liberal not to be deeply impressed with the justice of the claims 
 advanced b^’- the Catholics, he was not altogether disposed to go 
 
EIGHT HON. EICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 249 
 
 those generous lengths in their favor, 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 for- 
 ward, should be supported and enforced by the whole weight of 
 the party, they ought never so far to identify or encumber them 
 selves with it, as to make its adoption a sine-qua-non of their 
 acceptance or retention of office. His support, too, of the Min- 
 istry 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 deviation from the usual tone of his po- 
 litical feelings be otherwise accounted for, than by supposing 
 that he was aware of the existence of a strong indisposition to the 
 measure in that quarter, by whose views and wishes his public 
 conduct was, in most cases, regulated. 
 
 On the general question, however, of the misgovernment of 
 Ireland, and the disabilities of the Catholics, as forming its most 
 prominent feature, his zeal was always forthcoming and ardent, 
 — and never more so than during the present Session, when, on 
 the question of the Irish Arms Bill, and his owm motion upon 
 the State of Ireland, he distinguished himself by an animation 
 and vigor worthy of the best period of his eloquence. 
 
 Mr. Grattan, 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 Insurrec- 
 tion Acts, and, for once, lent his sanction to the principle upon 
 which all such measures are founded, namely, that of enabling 
 Power to defend itself against the consequences of its own ty- 
 ranny and injustice. In alluding to some expressions used by 
 this great man, Sheridan said : — 
 
 He now happened to recollect what was said by a Right Honorable 
 Gentleman, to whose opinions they all deferred, (Mr. Grattan,) that not-"~ 
 withstanding he voted for the present measure, with all its defects, rather 
 than lose it althgether, yet that gentleman said, that he hoped to secure 
 the revisionary interest of the Constitution to Ireland. But when he saw 
 tliat the Constitution was suspended from the year 1796 to the present pe- 
 ypbe II, ir^ 
 
250 
 
 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 
 
 riod, 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 
 remarkable, 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 
 the Irish are not contented, while according to their observation, that peo- 
 ple have so much reason to be happy, they betray a total ignorance of their 
 actual circumstances. The fact is, that the tyranny practised upon 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 refer you to 
 the Penal Statutes you have repealed, and to some of those which still ex- 
 ist. There you will see the high and the low equally subjected 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 liltle 
 story which those very astonished persons call to my mind. It was with re- 
 spect 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 ex- 
 claimed, ^ Higher if you please,’ But again he called out, ‘A little lower ;’ 
 upon which the accommodating boy addressed him — ‘ Now, upon my con- 
 science, I see you are a discontented man ; for, strike where I may, there’s 
 no pleasing you.’ Now your complaint of the discontents of the Irish ap- 
 pears 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 anx- 
 iously labored by hiin, and put through as many rehearsals oil 
 
RIGHT HON. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 
 
 251 
 
 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 sentinels.^’ 
 
 The Reporter here, by “ tipping ” the sceptres “ with crowns,” 
 has improved, rather unnecessarily, upon the finery of the origi- 
 nal. 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 vil- 
 lages, — neither Berlin nor Warsaw, — dethroning and creating thrones, — 
 the works he raises are monarchies, — sceptres his palisadoes, thrones his 
 martello towers.” 
 
 “ Commissioning kings, — erecting thrones, — martello towers, — Camba- 
 ceres count noses, — Austrians, fine dressed, like Pompey^s troops.” 
 
 “ B. fences with sceptres, — his martello towers are thrones, — he alone is 
 France.” 
 
 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 with the utmost good humor and playfulness, 
 the election ended in favor of Sir Francis Burdett and Lord 
 Cochrane, and Sheridan was 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 
 negotiation with Mr. Frederick Jones, the proprietor of the 
 Dublin Theatre. In explaining his object to Mr. Kelly, in a let- 
 ter dated August 30, 1807 he describes it as “a plan by which 
 
252 
 
 MEMOIES OF THE LIFE OF THE 
 
 the property 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 impos- 
 sible; — the profit to them, (he adds,) would probably be be- 
 .yond what I could now venture to state, and yet upon terms 
 w^hich would be much better for the real proprietors than any 
 thing that can arise from the careless and ignorant manner in 
 which the undertaking is now misconducted by those who, my 
 son excepted, have no interest in its success, and who lose 
 nothing by its failure.” 
 
 The negotiation with Mr. Jones was continued into the follow- 
 ing 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 quarter-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 centage on the net pro- 
 fits arising from the office-receipts, as should be agreed upon,” 
 &c. &c. 
 
 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 honor of recording among its ar-. 
 chives : — 
 
 One Tun, St. Jameses 3farlcet, 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 first 
 piece of three, within the term of three years from the 15 th of September 
 next. — It is distinctly to be understood that this bet is not valid unless Mr. 
 
 * 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, Ponsonby, 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 roncui red to give 
 sweetness apd strength to character 
 
JltGHT HOIST. RiCHAKD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 263 
 
 Jones becomes a partner in Drury-Lane Theatre before the commencement 
 of the ensuing season. 
 
 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 ardor, with which 
 he alone, of all his party, knew how to meet such great occa- 
 Sons. Had his political associates but learned from his exam- 
 ple thus to place themselves in advance of the procession of 
 events, they would not have had the triumphal wheels pass by 
 them and over them so frequently. 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 moment, but, from the views which 
 it pointed out through the bright opening now made by Spain, 
 was every way calculated to be useful both at home and abroad. 
 
 “ Let Spain,” be said, “ see, that we were not inclined to stint the ser- 
 vices 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 ob- 
 ject, 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 authorities, 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 Re- 
 ceivership of the Duchy of Cornwall, stood in the way of his 
 reaping the full advantages of that office. Previously to the 
 departure of General Lake for India, the Prince had granted to 
 
 “ Richard Power, 
 
 “ George Fonsonby, 
 W. W. Becher. 
 
 R. B. Shekidan, 
 Fred. Edw. Jones. 
 
254 
 
 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 
 
 him the reversion of this situation which was then filled by Lord 
 Elliot. It was afterwards, 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 be- 
 fore the Prince’s Council. On the death of Lord Elliot, there- 
 fore, His Eoyal Highness thought himself authorized, as we have 
 seen, in conferring the appointment upon Mr. Sheridan. This 
 step, however, was considered by the friends of General Lake 
 as not only a breach of promise, but a violation 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, 
 
 “ I have thoroughly considered and reconsidered the subject 
 we talked upon to-day. Nothing on earth shall make me risk 
 the possibility of the Prince’s goodness to me furnishing an op- 
 portunity for a single scurrilous fool’s presuming to hint even 
 that he had, in the slightest manner, departed Trom 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 
 incontestable ; 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 gra- 
 ciously approved. But understand me, — my meaning is to give 
 up the emoluments 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 High- 
 ness 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 
 
eight HON. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 255 
 
 of a pretence for envious malignity to whisper a word against his 
 decision. 
 
 Yours ever, 
 
 “ E. B. Sheridan. 
 
 “ I wTTte in great haste — going to A .” 
 
 The other Paper that I shall give, as throwing light on the 
 transaction, is a rough and unfinished sketch by Sheridan of a 
 statement intended to be transmitted to General Lake, containing 
 the particulars 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 w’hich your name is 
 so much implicated, and in which his feelings have been greatly 
 wounded from a quarter, I am commanded to say, whence he 
 did not expect such conduct. 
 
 “ As I am directed to communicate the particulars in the most 
 authentic form, you will, I am sure, excuse on this occasion my 
 not adopting the mode of a familiar letter. 
 
 “ Authentic Statement respecting the Appointment by His Eoyal 
 Highness the Prince of Wales to the Receivership of the Duchy 
 of Cornwall, in the Year 1804, to be transmitted by His Royal 
 Highness’s Command, to Lieutenant-General Lake, Command- 
 er-in-Chief of the Forces in India. 
 
 “ The circumstances attending the original reversionary Grant 
 to General Lake are stated in the brief for Counsel on this occa- 
 sion by Mr. Bignell, the Prince’s solicitor, to be as follow^ : 
 (No. 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 
 
25 & 
 
 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THSl 
 
 been sworn into it before his Council,) that upon General Lake’s 
 appointment to the command in India, the Prince could have no 
 conception that General Lake 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 he 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 acknowledgment as might be 
 expected from him ; and, accordingly, directions were given to 
 make out his patent. On the ensuing His Royal High- 
 
 ness was greatly surprised at receiving the following letter from 
 Mr. Warwick Lake. (No. II.) 
 
 “ His Royal Highness immediately directed Mr. Sheridan to 
 see Mr. W. Lake, and to state his situation, and how the office 
 was circumstanced ; and for further distinctness to make a minute 
 in writing * * * 
 
 Such were the circumstances that had, at first, embarrassed his 
 enjoyment of this office ; but, on the death of Lord Lake, all 
 difficulties were removed, and the appointment was confirmed to 
 Sheridan for his life. 
 
 In order to afford some insight into the nature of that friend- 
 ship, which existed so long between the Heir Apparent and 
 Sheridan, — though unable, of course, to produce any of the 
 numerous letters, 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 my self, 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 oblig- 
 ed 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 lo nothing but a perverse 
 
lltGHT HON. EICHARt) BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 25? 
 
 combination of circumstances, which would form no excuse were 
 1 to recapitulate them, can I attribute a conduct so strange on 
 my part; and from nothing but Your Royal Highness’s kind- 
 ness and benignity alone can I expect an indulgent allowance and 
 oblivion of that conduct : nor could I even hope for this were 1 
 not conscious of the unabated and unalterable devotion towards 
 Your Royal Highness which lives in my heart, and will ever con 
 tinue to be its pride and boast. 
 
 “ But I should ill deserve the indulgence I request did I not 
 frankly state what has passed in my mind, which, though it can- 
 not justify, may, in some degree, extenuate what must have ap- 
 peared ^o strange to Your Royal Highness, previous to Your 
 Royal Highness’s having actually restored me to the office I had 
 resigned. 
 
 “ I was mortified and hurt in the keenest manner by having 
 repeated to me from an authority which I then trusted^ some ex- 
 pressions of Your Royal 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 communica- 
 tion came, I for some time intended to unburthen my mind to 
 my sincere friend and Your Royal Highness’s most attached and 
 excellent servant, McMahon — but I suddenly discovered, beyond 
 a doubt, that I had been grossly deceived, and that there had not 
 existed the slightest foundation for the tale that had been imposed 
 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 impression, neglected the course which duty and grati- 
 tude required from me, that I felt an unaccountable shyness and 
 reserve in repairing my error, and to this procrastination other 
 unlucky circumstances contributed. One day when I had the 
 honor of meeting Your Royal Highness on horseback 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 that been assured, though falsely I am con- 
 vinced, that Your Royal Highness had promised to make a point 
 
258 
 
 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THfi 
 
 that I should neither speak nor vote on Lord Wellesly’s business, 
 My view of this topic, and my knowledge of the delicate situa- 
 tion in which Your Royal Highness stood in respect to the 
 Catholic question, though weak and inadequate motives, I confess, 
 yet encouraged the continuance of that reserve which my original 
 error had commenced. These subjects being passed by, — 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 mis- 
 represented, had greatly offended you ; and soon after it was 
 stated to me, by an authority which I have no objection to dis- 
 close, that Your Royal Highness had quoted, with marked dis- 
 approbation, words supposed to have been spoken by me on the 
 Spanish question, and of which 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 I have so long 
 experienced at your hands. I can only plead a nervous, procras- 
 tinating nature, abetted, perhaps, by sensations of, I trust, no 
 false pride, which, hov/ever 1 may blame myself, impel me in- 
 voluntarily to fly 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 
 Highness’s consideration, but it is of a nature fit only for per- 
 sonal communication. I therefore conclude, wdth again entreat- 
 ing 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 attachment than I 
 feel, and to my death shall feel, to you, my gracious Prince and 
 Master.” 
 
RIGHT HOJSr. RICHARD BRIlsrSLEY SHERIDAN. 259 
 
 CHAPTEE X. 
 
 DESTRUCTION OF THE THEATRE OF DRURY-LANE BY FIRE. 
 — MR. WHITBREAD. — PLAN FOR A THIRD THEATRE. — ILL- 
 NESS OF THE KING. — REGENCY. — LORD GREY AND LORD 
 GRENVILLE. — CONDUCT OF MR. SHERIDAN. — HIS VINDI- 
 CATION OF HIMSELF. 
 
 With the details of the embarrassments of Drury-Lane Theatre, 
 I have endeavored, 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-deeds 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 
 endeavoring to rectify, — all this would lead to such a mass of de- 
 tails and correspondence as, though I have waded through it my- 
 self, it is by no means necessary to inflict upon others. 
 
 The great source of the involvements, both of Sheridan him- 
 self 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 
 75,000/. ; and the sum of 150,000/. then raised by subscription, 
 would, it was calculated, in addition to defraying this charge, 
 pay off also the mortgage-debts with which the Theatre was 
 encumbered. It was soon found, howeve^ that the expense of 
 building the House alone would exceed the whole amount raised 
 by subscription ; and, notwithstanding the advance of a consider- 
 
m 
 
 MEMOIRS OR THE LIFE OF THE 
 
 able sum beyond the estimate, the Theatre was delivered in a 
 very unfinished state into the hands of the proprietors, — only 
 part of the mortgage-debts was paid off, and, altogether a debt 
 of 70,000/. was left upon the property. 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, in- 
 volved both in a degree of embarrassment from which there 
 appeared no hope of extricating them. 
 
 Such was the state of this luckless property, — and 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 Com- 
 mons was occupied with Mr. Ponsonby’s motion on the Conduct 
 of the War in Spain, and Mr. Sheridan was in attendance, with 
 the intention, no doubt, of speaking, the House was suddenly 
 illuminated by a blaze of light ; and, the Debate being interrupt- 
 ed, it was ascertained that the Theatre of Drury-Lane was on 
 fire. A motion was made to adjourn ; but Mr. Sheridan said, 
 with much calmness, that “ whatever might be the extent of the 
 private calamity, he hoped it would not interfere with the pub- 
 lic business of the country.” He then left the House ; and, pro- 
 ceeding to Drury-Lane, witnessed, with a fortitude which strong- 
 ly interested all who observed him, the entire destruction of his 
 property.* 
 
 Among his losses on the occasion there was one which, from 
 being associated with feelings of other times, may have affected 
 
 * It is said that, as he sat at the Piazza Coffee-house, during the fire, taking some re- 
 freshment, a friend of his having remarked on the philosophic calmness with which he 
 bore his misfortune, Sheridan answered, “ A man may surely be allowed to take a glass 
 of wine by his own fireside.^ ^ 
 
 Without vouching for the authenticity or novelty of this anecdote, (which may have 
 been, for aught I know, like the wandering Jew, a regular attendant upon all fires, sioee 
 the lime of Ilierocles,) I give it as I neard it. 
 
RIGHT HON. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 261 
 
 him, perhaps, more deeply than many that were far more serious, 
 A harpsichord, 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 all 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 unwil- 
 ling to touch them. Nothing, indeed, short of the intrepid zeal 
 of Mr. Whitbread could have ventured upon the task of reme- 
 dying so complex a calamity ; nor could any industry less per- 
 severing have compassed the miracle of rebuilding and re-animat* 
 ing that edifice, among the many-tongued claims that beset and 
 perplexed his enterprise. 
 
 In the following interesting letter to him from Sheridan, we 
 trace the first steps of his friendly interference on the occasion : — 
 
 “My Dear Whithbread, 
 
 “ Procrastination is always the consequence of an indolent man^s resolv- 
 ing to write a long detailed letter, upon any subject, however important to 
 himself, or whatever may be the confidence he has in the friend he pro- 
 poses to write to. To this must be attributed your having escaped the state- 
 ment 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 impor- 
 tant 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 compe- 
 tent 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 honorable, and in every respect entitled to your pro- 
 tection. 
 
 “ 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 
 
282 
 
 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 
 
 of. I most thankfully accept the offer of your interference, and am com 
 vlnced 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 I hope it will appear to merit. 
 
 Writing thus to you in the sincerity of private friendship, and the reli- 
 ance 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 criticising my 
 palpable neglect of all parliamentary duty. It would not be easy to ex- 
 plain 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 wil- 
 ling 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 re- 
 solution I would starve rather than violate. Of course, I except the politi- 
 cal aid of election-subscription. When I ask you to take a part in the set- 
 tlement of my shattered affairs, I ask you only to do so after a previous in- 
 vestigation of every part of the past circumstances which relate to the trust 
 I wish you to accept, in conjunction with those who wish to serve me, and 
 to whom I think you could not object. I may be again seized with an ill- 
 ness as alarming as that I lately experienced. 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.’’ 
 
 Encoaniged 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 the city of London, for some time threatened destruction to the 
 monopoly that had existed so long. But, by the exertions of Mr. 
 Sheridan and his friends, this scheme was defeated, and a Bill for 
 the erection of Drury-Lane Theatre by subscription, and for the 
 incorporation of the subscribers, was passed through Parliament. 
 
 That Mr. Sheridan himself would have had no objection to a 
 Third Theatre, if held by a Joint Grant to the Proprietors of the 
 
HIGHT HON. PJCHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 263 
 
 Other two, appears not only from his speeches and petitions on 
 the subject at this time, but from the following Plan for such an 
 establishment, drawn up by him, some years before, and intend 
 ed to be submitted to the consideration of the Proprietors oi 
 both Houses : — 
 
 Gentlemen, 
 
 According to your desire, the plan of the proposed Assistant Theatre 
 is here explained in writing for your further consideration. 
 
 ‘‘ From our situations in the Theatres Royal of Drury-Lane and Covent- 
 Garden we have had opportunities of observing many circumstances rela- 
 tive to our general property, which must have escaped those who do not 
 materially interfere in the management of that property. One point in par- 
 ticular has lately weighed extremely in our opinions, which is, an appre- 
 hension of a new Theatre being erected for some species or other of dramatic 
 entertainment. Were this event to take place on an opposing 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 pre- 
 sent 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 dread that such an event may not be very remote. With 
 this apprehension before us, we have naturally fallen into a joint considera- 
 tion of the means of preventing so fatal a blow to the present Theatres, or 
 of deriving a general advantage from a circumstance which might other 
 wise be our ruin. 
 
 Some of the leading motives for the establishment of a Third Theatre 
 are as follows : — 
 
 “ 1st. The great extent of the town and increased residence of a higher 
 class of people, who, on account of many circumstances, seldom frequent 
 the Theatre. 
 
 2d. The distant situation of the Theatres from the politer streets, and 
 the difiSculty with which ladies reach their carriages or chairs. 
 
 “ 3d. ‘The small number of side-boxes, where only, by the uncontrollable 
 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. 
 
264 
 
 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 
 
 These considerations have lately been strongly urged to me by many 
 leading persons of rank. There has also prevailed, as appears by the num- 
 ber 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 won- 
 dered at that they, feeling themselves, (from the causes above enumerat- 
 ed,) in a manner, excluded from our Theatres, should persevere in an en- 
 deavor 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 produced, 
 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 founda- 
 tion of other entertainments, whose opposition we should speedily have ex- 
 perienced. The question, then, upon a full vievv^ of our situation, appears 
 to be, whether the Proprietors of the present Theatres vdll contentedly 
 wait till some other person takes advantage of the prevailing wish for a 
 Third Theatre, or, having the remedy in their power, profit by a turn of 
 fashion which they cannot control. 
 
 A full conviction that the latter is the only line of conduct which can 
 give security to the Patents of Drury-Lane and Covent-Garden Theatres, 
 and yield a probability of future advantage in the exercise of them, has 
 prompted us to endeavor at modelling this plan, on which we conceive 
 those Theatres may unite in the support of a Third, to the general and mu- 
 tual 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, &c., 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 perform- 
 cnce of the new Theatre to be erected. 
 
 It is proposed that the performances of this new Theatre shall be sup- 
 ported from the united establishments of the two present Theatres, so that 
 the unemployed part of each company may exert themselves for the ad- 
 vantage of the whole. 
 
 ‘‘As the ol)ject of this Assistant Theatre will be to reimburse the Pro- 
 prietors of the other two, at the full season, for the expensive establishment 
 they are obliged to maintain when the town is almost empty, it is proposed, 
 that the scheme of businesss to bo adopted in the new Theatre shall differ 
 
EIGHT HOH. EICHAKD ERIHSLEY SHERIDAN. 265 
 
 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 Proprie- 
 tors of the two present Theatres shall jointly and severally engage in the 
 whole of the risk ; and the Proposers are ready, on equitable terms, to un- 
 dertake 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, arid 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 performances therein to be ex- 
 hibited for the mutual advantage of the two present Theatres. 
 
 “ The Proposers will, in this case, conducting the business under the dor- 
 mant Patent above mentioned, bind themselves, that no theatrical entertain- 
 ments, 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 two other Theatres ; the Proposers reserving to themselves any 
 profit they can make of their building, converted to purposes distinct ft'om 
 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 Theatres 
 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 pos- 
 sesses 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 license furnished by the exercise of their present dormant Patent. 
 
 “ ’Fore Heaven ! the Plan’s a good Plan ! I shall add a little Epilogue 
 to-morrow. 
 
 “ R. B. S.” 
 
 ‘‘ ’Tis now too late, and I’ve a letter to write 
 Before I go to bed, — and then, Good Night.” 
 
 In the month of July, this year, the Installation of Lord Gren- 
 ville, as Chancellor of Oxford, took place, and Mr. Sheridan was 
 among the distinguished persons that aUeiided the ceremony. As 
 
 VOL. II. 12 
 
266 
 
 MEMOIES OF THE LIFE OF THE 
 
 a number of honorar degrees were to be conferred on the occa- 
 sion, it was expected, as a matter of course, that his name would 
 be among those selected for that distinction ; and, to the honor 
 of the University, it was the general wish among its leading mem- 
 bers that such a tribute should be paid to his high political char 
 acter. .On the proposal of his name, however, (in a private meet- 
 ing, 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 tithes very regularly. Several efforts 
 were made to win over these dissentients ; and the Rev. Mr. In- 
 gram delivered an able and liberal Latin speech, in which he in- 
 dignantly represented the shame that it would bring on the Uni- 
 versity, if such a name as that of Sheridan should be “ clam sub- 
 ductuni’^ from the list. The two scholars, however, were im- 
 movable ; and nothing remained but to give Sheridan intimation 
 of their intended opposition, so as to enable him to decline the 
 honor of having his name proposed. On his appearance, after- 
 wards, in the Theatre, a burst of acclamation 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 un- 
 robed distinction, among them, during the whole of the ceremo- 
 nial. 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 ; and, after the usual 
 adjournments of Parliament, it was found necessary to establish 
 a Regency. On the question of the second adjournment, Mr. 
 Sheridan took a line directly opposed to that of his party, and 
 voted with the majority. Diat 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 particulars which will prepare the mind of the 
 reader to judge more clearly of the events that followed. — 
 
RIGHT HON. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 267 
 “ Sir, 
 
 “ I felt infinite satisfaction when I was apprised that Your Eoyal 
 Highness had been far from disapproving the line of conduct I 
 had presumed 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 Highness would give me credit that I was 
 actuated on that, as I shall oh every other occasion through my 
 existence, by no possible motive but the most sincere and un- 
 mixed desire to look to Your Royal Highness’s honor 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 the Country 
 and the Constitution. To this line of conduct I am prompted by 
 every motive of personal gratitude, and confirmed by every op- 
 portunity, 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 ad- 
 vance my humble testimony, because I scruple not to say for 
 myself, that I am no flatterer, and that I never found that to he- 
 come one was the road to your real regard. 
 
 “ I state thus much because it has been under the influence of 
 these feelings that I have not felt myself warranted, (without any 
 previous communication with Your Roybal 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 per- 
 sonal 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 unneces- 
 sarily giving a general sanction to the examination of the physi- 
 cians before the Council, and then attempting, on the question of 
 adjournment, to hold that examination as naught. On these 
 grounds, I have ventured to doubt the wisdom or propriety of 
 
268 
 
 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 
 
 anj endeavor, (if any such endeavor has been made,) to in* 
 dace Your Royal Highness, during so critical a moment, to 
 stir an inch from the strong reserved post you have chosen, or 
 give the slightest public demonstration of any future mtended 
 political preferences ; — convinced as I was that the rule of con- 
 duct you had prescribed to yourself was precisely that which 
 was gaining you the general heart, and rendering it impractica- 
 ble 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 I 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. because of this — I am sure that the decisions of that judg- 
 ment, 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, were, upon the same principles, adopted by the present 
 Minister : nor did the Opposition differ otherwise from their 
 former line of argument, than by ommitting altogether that 
 claim of Right for the Prince, which Mr. Fox had, in the pro- 
 ceedings of 1789, asserted. The event that ensued is sufficiently 
 well known. To the surprise of the public, (who expected, per- 
 haps, rather than wished, that the Coalesced Party of which Lord 
 Grey and Lord Grenville were the chiefs, should now succeed to 
 powder,) Mr. Perceval and his colleagues wer^ informed by the 
 Regent that it was the intention of His Royal Highness to con- 
 tinue 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 ex 
 ercised, and into the details of wffiich I feel most difficulty in en 
 
SIGHT IION. RICHAEt) BRINSLKY SHERIDAN. ^69 
 
 tering : — because, however curious it may be to penetrate into 
 these postscenia'^ 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 
 feelings 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 con- 
 duct which they now pursued, — it will be necessary to recur to a 
 ew antecedent events. 
 
 By the death of Mr. Fox the chief personal tie 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 remaining Ministry, expressed himself as no 
 longer desirous of being considered “ a party man.”* During 
 the short time that these Ministers continued in office, the un- 
 derstanding 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, 
 
 *Tliis 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 purpose of vindicating his 
 own character from son.e imputations cast upon it, in consequence of an interview which 
 he had lately had with the King. This important 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 
 reade ’ : — but the liberty of perusing the Letter is al! that lias been allowed me. 
 
270 
 
 MEMOlKS OE THE LIFE OF THE 
 
 the impression on the mind of His Royal Highness, as well as 
 on those of his immediate friends in the Ministry, Lord Moira 
 and Mr. Sheridan, was, that a cold neglect had succeeded to the 
 confidence with which they had hitherto been treated ; and that, 
 neither in their opinions nor feelmgs, were they any longer suffi- 
 ciently 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 conceiv- 
 ed himself to have been sufficiently consulted upon before its 
 adoption, nor approved of afterwards. 
 
 Such w^ere the gradual loosenings 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 party,) 
 prepared the way for that result by which the Public was sur- 
 prised in 1811, and the private details of which I 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 Address of the Houses. The same 
 confidential task was entrusted also to Lord Moira, with an ex- 
 pressed 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 ap- 
 peared. The recorded opinions of Lord Grenville on the Regen- 
 cy 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 sentiments he was called upon to interpret. In 
 this difficulty, the only alternative that remained was so to neu- 
 tralize the terms of the Answer upon the great point of differ- 
 
ftranr hoi^. richari) BRtKsLElf shehiDan. 2?1 
 
 ence, as to preserve the consistency of the Royal speaker, vfith- 
 out 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 Whigism, which Burke 
 had clothed in his imperishable language in 1789, and which Fox 
 had solemnly bequeathed to the Party, when 
 
 “ in his upward flight 
 He left his mantle there.”* 
 
 The Answer, drawn up by the Noble Lords, did not, it must 
 be confessed, surmount this difficulty very skilfully. The asser- 
 tion of the Prince’s consistency was confined to two meagre sen- 
 tences, 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 expression of any decided opinion upon the Consti- 
 tutional 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 
 mly to are in his name and in his behalf,” A;c. &c. This, 
 
 it v/ill 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 think fit to repose in me,” &c.J 
 
 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 
 
 * Joanna Baillie. 
 
 f The words which I have put in italics in these quotations, are, m the same manner, 
 underlined in Sheridan’s copy of the Paper, — doubtless, from a similar view of their im- 
 port to that which I have taken. 
 
 J On the back o( Sheridan’s own copy of this Answer, I find, written by him, the fol- 
 lowing words : “ Grenville’s and Grey’s proposed Answer from the Prince to the Address 
 of the two Houses ; — vta y flimsy, and attempting to cover Grenville’s conduct and con- 
 sistency in supporting the present Restrictions at the expense of the Prince.” 
 
272 MiiMOmS OF the life of the 
 
 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 
 Grenville. 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 subject 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 Statement 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, in endeavoring 
 to represent the Answer drawn up by these Noble Lords, as an 
 attempt to sacrifice the consistency and dignity of their Royal 
 Master to the compromise of opinions and principles which they 
 had entered into themselves. 
 
 Under the impression that such were the nature and motives 
 of his interference. Lord Grey and Lord Grenville, on the 11th 
 of January, (the day on which the Answer substituted for their 
 own was delivered), presented a joint Representation to the Re- 
 gent, in which they stated that “ the circumstances which had 
 occurred, respecting His Royal Highness’s 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 sincerity 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 honor, through Mr. 
 Adam, to command his attendance, it was distinctly expressed to 
 him, that His Royal Highness had cordescended to select hirru 
 
mam HON. RiCHAED BEtNSLEY SHERIDAN. 27S 
 
 in conjunction with Lord Grey, to be consulted with, as the pub- 
 lic and responsible advisers of that Answer ; and Lord Grenville 
 could never forget the gracious terms in which His Loyal High- 
 ness had the goodness to lay these his orders upon him. It was 
 also on the same grounds of public and responsible advice, that 
 Lord Grey, honored in like manner by the most gracious expres- 
 sion of His Loyal Highness’s 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 essentially different, — to 
 uphold and distinctly to manifest that unshaken adherence to His 
 Royal Highness’s past and present opinion, which consistency 
 and honor required, but to conciliate, at the same time, the feel- 
 ings of the two Houses, by expressions of confidence and affec- 
 tion, and to lay the foundation of that good understanding be- 
 tween His Royal Highness and the Parliament, the establish- 
 ment 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 presumption of believing that their humble endea- 
 vors for the execution of so difficult a task might not be suscep- 
 tible of many and great amendments. 
 
 “ The draft, (their Lordships said), which they humbly sub- 
 mitted 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 klighness’s first act of government, it 
 would have been no less their desire than their duty to have 
 profited by all such objections, and to have labored to accom- 
 plish, 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 confi- 
 dently believed, not less important 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 
 
 VOL. II. 12 * 
 
274 
 
 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THS! 
 
 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 honor them, if they sup- 
 pressed the expression of their deep concern, in finding that their 
 humble endeavors in His Royal Highness’s service had been sub- 
 mitted to the judgment of another person, by whose advice His 
 Royal Highness had been guided in his final decision, on a matr 
 ter on which they alone had, however unworthily, been honored 
 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 representation which they had 
 presumed to make of their feelings on this occasion, 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 interests.” 
 
 On receiving this Representation, in which, it must be con- 
 fessed, there was more of high spirit and dignity than of worldly 
 wisdom,* His Royal Highness lost no time in communicating it 
 
 * To the pure and dignified character of the Noble Whig associated in this Remon- 
 strance, it is unnecessary for me to say how heartily I bear testimony. The only fault, 
 indeed, of this distinguished person is, that, knowing but one higli course of conduct for 
 himself, he impatiently resents any sinking from that pilch 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 but 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, accom'hriodate 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 subs’des into tlie gentle husband and father, and the frank, social 
 friend. 
 
 The eloquence of Ixird Grey more than that of any other person, brings to mind what 
 
Uiom HOK. HICHAKD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 275 
 
 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, employed the whole force of his shrewdness and 
 ridicule* in exposing the stately tone of dictation which, accord- 
 ing to his view, was assumed throughout this Paper, and in 
 picturing to the Prince the state of tutelage he might expect un- 
 der Ministers who began thus early with their lectures. Such 
 suggestions, even if less ably urged, were but too sure of a wil- 
 ling audience in ihe ears to which they were addressed. Shortly 
 after. His Royal Highness paid a visit to Windsor, where the 
 Queen and another Royal Personage completed what had been 
 so skilfully begun ; and the important resolution was forthwith 
 taken to retain Mr. Perceval and his colleagues in the Ministry. 
 
 I shall now give the Statement of the whole transaction, which 
 Mr. 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 : — 
 
 Queen- Street y January 15, 1811. 
 
 “Dear Holland, 
 
 “ As you have been already apprised by His Royal Highness 
 the Prince that he thought it becoming the frankness of his char- 
 acter. and consistent with the fairness and openness of proceeding 
 due to any of his servants whose conduct appears to have incur- 
 red* the disapprobation of Lord Grey and Lord Grenville, to com- 
 municate their representations on the subject to the person so 
 
 Quintilian says of the great and noble orator, Messala : — “ Quodammodo prce seferens in 
 dicendo ndbiUtatem suam.^^ 
 
 * He called rhymes also to his aid, as appears by the following 
 
 “ An Address to the Pi-ince, 1811. 
 
 “ In all humility we crave 
 Our Regent may become our slave, 
 
 And being so, we trust that He ^ 
 
 Will thank us for our loyalty. 
 
 Then, if he’ll help us to pull dotvn 
 His Father’s dignity and Crown, 
 
 We’ll make him, in some time to come, 
 
 The greatest Prince in Christendom.’^ 
 
2?6 
 
 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF Tllfi 
 
 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 mis- 
 understanding between His Royal Highness and those distin- 
 guished characters, whom His Royal Highness appears to destine 
 to those responsible situations, which must in all public matters 
 entitle them to his exclusive confidence. 
 
 ‘‘ I shall as briefly as I can state the circumstances of the fact, 
 so distinctly referred to in the following passage of the Noble 
 Lord’s Representation : — 
 
 “ ‘ 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 High- 
 ness has condescended to honor them, if they suppressed the ex- 
 pression of their deep concern in finding that their humble endea- 
 vors in Your Royal Highness’s service have been submitted to 
 the judgment of another person, hy whose advice Your Royal 
 Highness has been guided in your final decision on a matter in 
 which they alone had, however unworthily, been honored with 
 Your Royal Highness’s commands.’ 
 
 I must premise, that from my first intercourse with the Prince 
 during the present distressing emergency, such conversations as 
 he may have honored me with have been communications of re- 
 solutions already formed on his part, and not of matter referred 
 to consultation or submitted to advice, I know that my declin- 
 ing to vote for the further adjournment of the Privy Council’s 
 examination of the physicians gave offence to some, and was con- 
 sidered 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 unauthorized, but perhaps 
 unexpected by the Prince. My motives for it I took the liberty 
 of communicating to His Royal Highness by letter,* the next 
 day, and, previously to that, I had not even seen His Royal 
 Highness since the confirmation of His Majesty’s malady. 
 
 * This Letter has been given i^. page 268. 
 
EIGHT HON. EICHAED BEINSLEY SHEEIOAN. 277 
 
 “ If I differed from those who, equally attached to His Royal 
 Highness’s interest and honor, 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 occasion, but, in doing so, I meant 
 no disrespect to those who had taken a different view of the sub- 
 ject. But, with all deference, I cannot avoid adding, that expe- 
 rience of the impression made on the public mind by the re- 
 served 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 know- 
 ledge of it being, as I before said, the communication of a reso- 
 lution 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 premise 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 at- 
 tended the corhposing the Answer itself, as far as I was con- 
 cerned. 
 
 “ 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 Answer, without entertaining the least idea 
 of meddling with the subject myself, having received no autho- 
 rity 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 I left town. On Tuesday evening it 
 occurred 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 withdrawn from my mind any doubt, 
 if for a moment I ever entertained any, of the perfect propriety 
 
278 
 
 MEMOIKS OF THE LIFE OF THE 
 
 of Adam’s conduct at that hurried mterview ; being also long 
 convinced, as well from intercourse with him at Carlton-House 
 as in every transaction I have witnessed, that it is impossible for 
 him to act otherwise than with the most entire sincerity and 
 honor towards all he deals with. I then read the Paper I had 
 put 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 Grenville’s name even mentioned 
 as in any way connected with the Answer proposed to be sub- 
 mitted 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 paragraphs 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 considering the 
 framing of this Answer as a matter of official responsibility any 
 where, but that it was his intention to take the choice and deci- 
 sion respecting it on himself. If, however, I had knowm, 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 authorized 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 request the Prince not to refer to me, in any respect, the 
 Paper of the Noble Lords, oi to insist even on my hearing its 
 
KIGHT HON. KICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 279 
 
 contents ; but that I might be permitted to put the draft he had 
 received from me into the fire. The Prince, however, who had 
 read the Noble 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 
 paragi’aph. 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, keeping clear of all 
 topics liable to disagreement, should be 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 Highness’s orders, to your house to relate what had passed 
 to Lord Grey. I do not mean to disguise, however, that when I 
 found myself bound to give my opinion, I did fully assent to the 
 force and justice of the Prince’s objections, and made other ob- 
 servations of my own, which I thought it my duty to do, con- 
 ceiving, 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 comments 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 con- 
 sidering the objections as coming from the Prince, but as origi- 
 nating in my suggestions. Upon this, I certainly called on Adam 
 to produce the Prince’s copy, with his notes, in His Royal High- 
 ness’s own hand- writing. 
 
 “ Afterwards, finding myself considerably hurt at an expres- 
 sion of Lord Grey’s, which could only be pointed at me, and 
 
280 
 
 MEMOIKS OF THE LIFE OF THE 
 
 which expressed his opinion that the whole of the Paper, which 
 he assumed me to be responsible for, was ‘ drawn up in an 
 invidious spirit,’ I certainly did, with more warmth than was, 
 perhaps, discreet, comme.it on the Paper proposed to be substi- 
 tuted ; and there ended, with no good effect, our interview. 
 
 “ Adam and I saw the Prince again that night, when His Royal 
 Highness 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 eradi- 
 cate 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 wishes of the Noble Lords, was delivered by His 
 Royal Highness, and presented by the Deputa^tion qf 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 dis- 
 trust 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 minute- 
 ness and accuracy of detail to remove whatever may have ap- 
 peared doubtful in conduct, while unexplained, or inconsistent in 
 principle 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, or 
 iiLstly entitled to high political pretensions^ as one so Jittle 
 
RIGHT HON. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 281 
 
 ' attached to His Royal Highness,’ 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 honor and the 
 sole reward of my political life, in the character of an 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 Noble Lords, that ‘ the maintenance of constitu- 
 tional responsibility 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 be their intention so to characterize 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 under- 
 stand, 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 presumptuous and certainly in- 
 effectual attempt to inculcate a contrary doctrine on the mind of 
 the Prince of Wales, would, I am confident, lose me every particle 
 of his favor and confidence at once and for ever. But I am yet 
 to learn what part of my past public life, — and I challenge ob- 
 servation on every part of m.y present proceedings, — has war- 
 ranted 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 disappoint- 
 ment in my own mind interferes with the respect and esteem I 
 entertain for Lord Grenville, or in addition to those sentiments, 
 the friendly regard I owe to Lord Grey. To Lord Grenville 1 
 have the honor to be but very little personally known. From 
 Lord Grey, intimately acquainted as he was with every circum- 
 stance of my conduct and principles in the years 1788-9, I con- 
 fess I should have expected a very tardy and reluctant interpre- 
 tation of any circumstance to my disadvantage. What the 
 nature of my endeavors were at that time, I have the writtfi) 
 
282 
 
 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 
 
 testimonies of Mr. Fox and the Duke of Portland. To jou 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 
 suspicion 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 re- 
 ward which his own honorable 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 person, and 
 ambitious of gaining and meriting his entire esteem, (yet tena- 
 cious, above all things, of the constitutional principle, that exclu- 
 sive confidence must attach to the responsibility of those whom 
 he selects to be his public servants,) I would with heartfelt satis- 
 faction 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 me, with all duty, to submit this letter to his perusal, be- 
 fore 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. 
 
 “ 1 have the honor to be, &c. 
 
 To Lord Holland, (Signed) E. B. Sheridan. 
 
 ‘‘Read and approved by the Prince, January 20, 1811. 
 
 “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 tw'o noble 
 J^ords, jy^et, combined with preceding events and with the insight 
 
EIGHT KON. EICHAED BKINSLEY SHEEIDAN. 283 
 
 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 Platonists call, “ the material 
 alluvion” of our nature. His political repugnance to the Co- 
 alesced 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 le^ast 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 
 to feel 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 other. He had, 
 therefore, in the ardor of undermining, carried the ground from 
 beneath his own feet. In helping to disband his party, 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 sanguineiiess 
 of his disposition, could hardly have failed to force itself on his 
 mind,) it was not, we should think, with very self-gratulatory 
 feelings that he undertook the task, a few weeks after, of indit- 
 ing, 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 ap 
 peared, severed the last life-lock by which the strugglmg spirit”* 
 of this friendship between Royalty and Whiggism still held : — 
 
 dp-xtr a crinem secaty omnis et una 
 
 Dilapsus color, atque in ventos vita recessitJ^ 
 
 With respect to the chief Personage connected with thestj 
 
 * anijm'. 
 
284 
 
 MEMOIES OF THE LIFE OF THE 
 
 transactions, it is a proof of the tendency of knowledge, to pro- 
 duce 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 connection, — 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 principle on the other. 
 
 Among the arrangements that had been made, in contempla- 
 tion of a new Ministry, at this time, it w'as intended that Lord 
 Moira should go, as Lord Lieutenant, to Ireland, and that Mr. 
 Sheridan should accompany him, as Chief Secretary. 
 
RIGHT HON. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 285 
 
 CHAPTEE XL 
 
 AFFAIRS OF THE NEW THEATRE. — MR. WHITBREAD. — 
 NEGC TIATIONS WITH LORD GREY AND LORD GREN- 
 VILLE.- — CONDUCT OF MR. SHERIDAN RELATIVE TO THE 
 HOUSEHOLD. — HIS LAST WORDS IN PARLIAMENT. — 
 FAILURE AT STAFFORD. — CORRESPONDENCE WITH MR. 
 WHITBREAD. — £oRD BYRON. — DISTRESSES OF SHERIDAN. 
 — ILLNESS. — DEATH AND FUNERAL. — GENERAL RE- 
 MARKS. 
 
 It was not till the close of this year that the Reports of the 
 Committee appointed under the Act for rebuilding the Theatre 
 of Drury-Lane, were laid before the public. By these it appeared 
 that Sheridan 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 4000/. was to 
 be paid to him for the property of the Fruit Offices and Rever- 
 sion 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 unembittered when they entered into prac- 
 tical details. 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 
 rigor as the other to that of laxity. . While Sheridan, too, — like 
 those painters, who endeavor to disguise their ignorance of anat- 
 omy by an indistinct and furzy outline, — had an imposing method 
 of generalizing his accounts and statements, which, to most eyes, 
 
286 
 
 MEMOitlS OF ms LIFE OF THg 
 
 concealed the negligence and fallacy of the details, Mr. Whit 
 bread, on the contrary, with an unrelenting accuracy, laid open 
 the minutiae of every transaction, 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 persuasion, — 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 to him was 
 that which stipulated that he, himself, should “ have no concern 
 or connection, of any kind whatever, with the new undertaking.” 
 This concession, however, he, at first, regained 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 
 themselves 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 Whitbread; and 
 the following letter addressed by him to the latter will show the 
 state of their respective feelings on this point : — 
 
 “My dear Whitbread, 
 
 “ I am not going to write you a controversial or even an argu- 
 mentative letter, but simply to put down the heads of a few 
 matters which I wish shortly to converse with you upon, in the 
 most amicable and temperate manner, deprecating the im 
 patience 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 endeavor to advise and assist Mr. Benjamin Wyatt 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 
 
RIGHT HON. RICHARD BRINSLEIT SHERIDAN. 28 ? 
 
 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 
 sentiments I do with respect to 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 are in no 
 way answerable if a had Theati'e is built : it is not you who built 
 it ; and if we come to the strict right of the thing ^ you have no 
 BUSINESS TO INTERFERE and further on you say, ‘ Will you 
 but STAND ALOOF, and every thing will go smooth^ and a good 
 Theatre shall be built and in conversation you put, as a simi- 
 lar case, that, ‘ if a man sold another a piece of land^ it was no- 
 thing to the seller whether the purchaser built himself a good or a 
 bad house upon iV 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 I 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 re- 
 tracting 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 businesf? 
 from motives of the purest and kindest regard for me and my 
 family, your ardor and zealous eagerness to accomplish the diffi- 
 cult task you had undertaken have led you, in this instance, to 
 overlook what is due to my feelings, to my honor, and my just 
 interests. Por, supposing I were to ’‘stand aloof ^ totally uncon- 
 cerned, 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 tne house, obtain one per cent, for their mo- 
 ney, do you seriously believe you could find a single man, wo- 
 
2o8 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 
 
 man, 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 f 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 I had not to apprehend any share in the 
 discredit and discontent which might follow the ill success of their 
 plan, or that 1 was entitled to brave whatever malice or ignorance 
 might direct against me. Next, and lastly, as to my just inter- 
 est in the property I am to part with, a consideration to which, 
 however careless I might be were I alone concerned, I am bound 
 to attend in justice to my own private creditors, observe how 
 the matter stands : — I agree to waive my own ‘ strict righf to be 
 paid before the funds can be applied to the building, and this in 
 the confidence and on the continued understanding, that my ad- 
 vice should be so far respected, that, even should the subscrip- 
 tion not fill, I should at least see a Theatre capable of being 
 charged with and ultimately 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 do with ; only, unfortunately, 
 upon them may depend our best chance of receiving any pay- 
 ment for the property we 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 justice will see, that iu order that the Com 
 
MGHT HON. BiCHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 289 
 
 Tnittee 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 proposal, and I neither repent nor wish to make any 
 
 ange in it. 
 
 I have totally departed from my intention, when I first be- 
 gan 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 Subscribers ; 
 neither of which can be obtained without establishing a repu- 
 tation for him which must be the basis of his future fortune. 
 
 “ And now, after all this statement, you will perhaps be sur- 
 prised to find how little I require ; — simply some Resolution of 
 the Committee to the effect of that I 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 1 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 dear Whitbread, 
 
 “Yours, faithfully. 
 
 “ P. S. The discussion we had yesterday respecting some invest i 
 gation of the which I deem so essential to my character and 
 to my peace of mind, and your present concurrence with me on 
 that subject, has 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 fiill on the proprietors. M;y 
 
 VOL. II. ' JR 
 
290 MEMOiliS OF THE LIFE OF THE 
 
 resolution is to take all such on myself, and to leave Tom’s share 
 untouched.” 
 
 Another concession, which Sheridan himself had volunteered, 
 namely, the postponement of his right of being paid the arrount 
 of his claim, till after the Theatre should be built, was also a 
 subject of much acrimonious discussion between the two friends, 
 
 • — Sheridan applying to this condition that sort of lax interpret- 
 ation, which would have left him the credit of the sacrifice with- 
 out its inconvenience, and Whitbread, 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 Subscribers. Never, indeed, was there a more melancholy 
 example than 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 inex- 
 tricable clasp. 
 
 The mere likelihood of a sum of money being placed at his 
 disposal was sufficient — like the “ bright day that brings forth the 
 adder ” — to call into life the activity of all his duns ; and how 
 liberally he made the fund available among them, appears from 
 the following letter of Whitbread, addressed, not to Sheridan 
 himself, but, apparently, (for the direction is wanting,) to some 
 man of business connected with him : — 
 
 “ My dear Sir, 
 
 “ 1 had determined not to give any written answer to the note 
 you put into my hands yesterday morning ; but a further peru- 
 sal of 'it leads me to think it better to make a statement in 
 writing, why I, for one, cannot comply with the request it con- 
 tains, 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 interests, by the 
 Committee, is owing the distressed situation in which he is im- 
 fortunately placed. ^ 
 
lilGHT HON. KlCHAKt) BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 291 
 
 “ Whatever postponement of the Interests of the Proprietors 
 may ultimately be resorted to, as matter of indispensable neces- 
 sity from the state of the Subscription Fund, will originate in the 
 written suggestion of Mr. Sheridan himself ; and, in certain cir- 
 cumstances, unless such latitude were allowed on his part, the 
 execution of the Act could not have been attempted. 
 
 “ At present there is no postponement of his interests, — but 
 there is an utter impossibility of touching the Subscription Fund 
 at all, except for very trifling specifled articles, until a supple- 
 mentary Act of Parliament 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, &c., are first to be 
 paid for, — then the portion of Killegrew’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 he paid, until we have 
 fresh powers and additional subscriptions. 
 
 “ 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 obser- 
 vations and explanations ? 
 
 “We cannot but all deeply lament his distress, but the palli- 
 ation he proposes it is not in our 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 he sent to me some time ago, of per- 
 sons to whom he felt himself in honor bound to appropriate to 
 each his share of that fund, in common 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 communicated 
 both to Mr. Taylor and to Mr. Shaw, through me, offers to im- 
 pound 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 pay 
 
m 
 
 MEMOlilS OP l^HE LIFE OF THE 
 
 merit of any sum out of this fund, so circumstanced? Mr. 
 Hammersley’s possible profits are prospective, and the prospect 
 remote. I know the positive losses he sustains, and the sacrifices 
 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 
 wffiich 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 
 labors 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 I grieve for the sad state of 
 Mr. Sheridan’s affairs. I would contribute my mite to their 
 temporary relief, if it would be 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 yours, 
 
 “ Southill, Bee, 19, 1811. ‘‘Samuel Whitbread.” 
 
 A Dissolution of Parliament being expected to take place, Mr. 
 Sheridan again turned his eyes to Stafford ; and, in spite of the 
 estrangement to which his infidelities at Westminster had given 
 rise, saw enough, he thought, of the “ veterh vestigia flammoe’'’ to 
 encourage him to hope for a renewal of the connection. The 
 following letter to Sir Oswald Moseley explains his views and 
 expectations on the subject : — 
 
 “ Dear Sir Oswald, Cavendish- Square^ Nov, 29, 1811. 
 
 “ Being apprised that you have decided to decline offering 
 yoiirself a candidate for Staffo7’d, when a future election may 
 
RIGHT HON. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 293 
 
 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 ac- 
 cept the very cordial invitations I have received from old friends 
 in that quarter, and, (though entirely secure of my seat at Ilches- 
 ter, and, indeed, even of the second seat for my son, 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 Ilchester may be made towards assisting 
 me, in point of expense, to meet any opposition^ and, in that re- 
 spect^ nothing will be wanting. It will, I confess, be very grati- 
 fying to me to be again elected by the sons of those wdio chose me 
 in the year eighty.^ and adhered to me so stoutly and so long. 
 I think I w^as returned for Stafford seven, if not eight, times, in- 
 cluding. tw^o most tough and expensive contests ; and, in taking 
 a temporary leave of them I am sure my credit must stand 
 well, for not a shilling did I leave unpaid. I have written to the 
 Jerninghams, who, in the handsomest manner, have ever given 
 me their w'armest 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 continu- 
 ation of their honorable support. I feel it to be no presumption 
 to add, that other respectable interests in the neighborhood will 
 be with me. 
 
 “ I need scarcely add my sanguine hope, that whatever interest 
 rests with you, (which ought to be much), will also be in my 
 favor. 
 
 “ I have the honor to be, 
 
 “ With great esteem and regard. 
 
 Yours most sincerely, 
 
 “ 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 time, (which I find w^ritten in his neatest hand, as if in- 
 lendei to be sent), is this cirious one : — 
 
294 
 
 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 
 
 “Dear King John, Cavendish- Square, Sunday night. 
 
 “ J 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.” 
 
 The two attempts that were made in the course of the year 
 1812 — the one, on the cessation 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 evi- 
 dent, 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 evolutions of negotiation, there was anything but a 
 sincere wish that the object to which they related should be ac- 
 complished. The Marechal Bassompiere was not more afraid of 
 succeeding in his warfare, when he said, ’’Me crois que nous se- 
 rous assez foils pour prendre la Rochelle f than was one of the 
 parties, at least, in these negotiations, of any favorable turn that 
 might inflict success upon its overtures. Even where the Court, 
 as in the contested point of the Household, professed its readi- 
 ness to accede to the surrender so injudiciously demanded of it, 
 those who acted as its discretionary 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 honorable char- 
 acter. 
 
 Lord Yarmouth, it is well known, stated in the House of 
 Commons that he had communicated to Mr. Sheridan the inten- 
 tion of the Household to resign, with the view of having that in 
 lention conveyed to Lord Gref and Lord Grenville, and thus re- 
 
KIGHT HON. KICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 295 
 
 moving the sole ground upon which these Noble Lords objected to 
 the acceptance of office. Not only, however, did Sheridan endeavor 
 l6 dissuade the Noble Vice-Chamberlain from resigning, but 
 with an unfairness of dealing which admits, I own, of no vidica- 
 tion, he withheld from the two leaders of Opposition the intelli- 
 gence thus meant to be conveyed to them ; and, when questioned 
 by Mr. Tierney as to the rumored intentions of the Household 
 to resign, offered to bet five hundred guineas that there was no 
 such step in contemplation. 
 
 In this conduct, which he made but a feeble attempt to ex- 
 plain, and which I consider as the only indefensible part of his 
 whole public life, he was, in some degree, no doubt, influenced 
 by personal feelings against the two Noble Lords, whom his 
 want of fairness on the occasion was so well calculated to thvrart 
 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 mainspring of all his movements, — whose 
 spell over him, in this instance, 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 — 
 
 Friends, 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 ship 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 vindica- 
 tion, suppressing, from delicacy to his Royal Master, a circum- 
 stance which, if mentioned, would have redounded considerably 
 to his own credit. After mentioning that the Regent had 
 “asked his opinion with respect to the negotiations that were 
 going on,” he adds, “ I gave him my opinion, and I most de 
 
296 
 
 MEMOIES OF THE LIFE OF THE 
 
 voutly wish that that opinion could be published to the world, 
 that it might serve to shame those who now belie Trie.” 
 
 The following' is the fact to which these expressions allude. 
 When the Prince-Regent, on the death of Mr. Perceval, entrust- 
 ed to Lord Wellesley the task cf forming an Administration, it 
 appears that His Royal Highness had signified either his inten- 
 tion or wish to exclude a certain Noble Earl from the arrange- 
 ments to be made under that commission. On learning this, 
 Sheridan not only expressed strongly his opinion against such a 
 step, but having, afterwards, 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 1 have in my possession,) in which, after praising the 
 “ wisdom and magnanimity” displayed by his His Royal High 
 ness, in confiding to Lord Wellesley the powers that had just 
 been entrusted to him, he repeated his opinion that any “ pro- 
 scription” of the Noble Earl in question, would be ‘‘a proceed- 
 ing equally derogatory to the estimation of His Royal Highness’s 
 personal dignity and the security of his political power — add- 
 ing, that the advice, which he toolc 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 wEom he was allied ; but 
 was founded on wEat he considered to be best for His Royal 
 Highness’s honor and interest, and for the general interests of the 
 country.” 
 
 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 Royal 
 Father, ‘ the fate that made you a King forbad your having a 
 friend.’ I deny his proposition as a general maxim — I am con- 
 fident that Your Royal Highness possesses qualities to win and 
 secure to you the attachment and devotion of private friendship, 
 in spite of your being a Sovereign. At least I feel that I am 
 entitled to make this declaration as far as relates to myself — 
 and I do it under the assured convi )tion that '^oii wdll never re 
 
PvIGHT HON. RICKARD BRIKSLEY SHERIDAN. 297 
 
 quiie fiom me any proof of that attachment and devotion incon 
 sistent with the clear and honorable independence of mind and 
 conduct, which constitute my sole value as a public man, and 
 which have hitherto been my best recommendation to your 
 gracious favor, confidence, and protection.” 
 
 It is to be regretted that while by this wise advice he helped 
 to save His Royal Master from the invidious appearance of acting 
 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 Ses- 
 sion ; and among the last sentences uttered by him in the House 
 were the following; — which, as calculated to leave a sweeter 
 flavor on the memory, at parting, than those questionable trans- 
 actions that have just been related, I have great pleasure in 
 citing : — 
 
 My objection to the present Ministry, is that they are avowedly array- 
 ed and embodied against a principle, — that of concesssion to the Catholics 
 of Ireland,— which I think, and must always think, essential to the safety 
 of this empire. I will never give my vote to any Administration that op- 
 poses the question of Catholic Emancipation. I will not consent to receive 
 a furlough upon that particular question, even though a Ministry were car- 
 rying 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 
 iRter in this House, I should say, ‘ Be just to Ireland, as you value your 
 own honor, — 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, let that historian have to say, — ‘ Great Bri- 
 tain fell, and with her fell all the best securities for the charities of human 
 life, for the power and honor, the fame, the glory, and the liberties, not 
 only of herself but of the whole civilized world.’ ’ 
 
 O" 
 
 VOL. II. 
 
298 
 
 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 
 
 In the month of September following, Parliament was dis. 
 solved ; and, presuming upon the encouragement which he had 
 received from some of his Stafford friends, he again tried his 
 chance of election for that borough, but without success. This 
 failure he, himself, imputed, as will be seen by the following let- 
 ter, to the refusal of Mr. Whitbread to advance him 2000Z. out 
 of the sum due to him by the Committee for his share of the 
 property : — 
 
 “Dear Whitbread, Coolers Hotel. Hov, \^ 1812. 
 
 “ I was misled to expect you in town the beginning of last 
 week, but being positively assured that you will arrive to-mor- 
 row, 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 as I can. We must have some serious 
 but yet, I hope, friendly conversation respecting my unsettled 
 claims on the Drury-Lane Theatre Corporation. A concluding 
 paragraph, in one of your last letters to Burgess, which he 
 thought himself justified in showing me, leads me to believe that 
 it is not your object to distress or destroy me. On the subject 
 of your refusing to advance to me the 2000Z. I applied for to 
 take with me to Stafford, out of the large sum confessedly due 
 to rne, (unless I signed some paper containing 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 tv. attribute 
 our failure to, rather than confess our poverty, I do not mean 
 now to expostulate with you, much less to reproach you, but sure 
 I am that when you contemplate the positive injustice of refusing 
 me the accommodation I required, and the irreparable injury 
 that refusal has cast on me, overturning, probably, all the honor 
 and independence of what remains of my political life, you will 
 deeply reproach yourself 
 
 “I shall make an application to the Committee, when I hear 
 you have appointed one, for the assistance which most pressing 
 
BIGHT HON. BICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 299 
 
 circumstances now compel me to call for ; and all I desire is, 
 through a sincere wish that our friendship may not be interrupt- 
 ed, that the answer to that application may proceed from a hom 
 fide Committee^ with their signatures^ testifying their decision. 
 
 I am, yet, 
 
 “ Yours very sincerely, 
 
 “ S. Whitbread^ Esq. ‘‘ R. B. Sheridan.” 
 
 Notwithstanding the angry feeling which is expressed in this 
 letter, and which the state 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 
 inclination, on the part of this honorable and excellent man, to 
 afford assistance to his friend, — but that the duties of the perplex- 
 ing trust which he had undertaken rendered such irregular ad- 
 vances as Sheridan required impossible : — 
 
 My dear Sheridan, 
 
 “We will not enter into details, although you are quite mis- 
 taken in them. You know how happy I shall be to propose to 
 the Committee to agree to anything 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 5000Z. pledged to Peter Moore to an- 
 swer demands ; the certificates given to Giblet, Ker, Ironmonger, 
 Cross, and Ilirdle, five each at your request ; the engagements 
 given to Ellis and myself, and the arrears to the Linley family. 
 All this taken into consideration will leave a large balance still 
 payable to you. Still there are upon that balance the claims 
 upon you by Shaw, Taylor, and Grubb, for all of which you have 
 otfered to leave the whole of your compensation in my hands, to 
 abide the issue of arbitration. 
 
 “ This may be managed by your agreeing to take a consider- 
 able portion of your balance in bonds, leaving those bonds in 
 trust to answer the events. 
 
300 
 
 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 
 
 ‘‘ I shall be in town on Monday to the Committee^ and will be 
 prepared with a sketch of the state of your account with the 
 Committee, and with the mode in which I think it would be pru- 
 dent 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 Drury-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, 
 
 “ Southill^ Sept, 25, 1812. “ S. Whitbread.” 
 
 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 conciliate the wounded feelings of his friend : — 
 
 My dear Esther, 
 
 “ I 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 
 cordially and unanimously adopted. I had it always in contem- 
 plation, — but to have proposed it earlier would have been im- 
 proper. I hope you will derive much amusement from your 
 visits to the Theatre, and that you and all of your name will ul- 
 timately be pleased with what has been done. I have just had a 
 most satisfactory letter from Tom Sheridan. 
 
 ‘‘ I am, 
 
 ‘‘ My dear Esther, 
 
 ‘‘ Affoctionately yours, 
 
 Dover-Street^ July 4, 1812, ‘‘Samuel Whitbre adw’^ 
 
kIGHT HON. RICHARD BRINSLEIT SHERIDAN. §61 
 
 “My dear Esther, 
 
 “ It has been a great mortification and disappointment to me, 
 to have met the Committee twice, since the offer of the use of a 
 box at the new Theatre was made to you, and that I have not had 
 to report the slightest acknowledgment from you in return. 
 
 “The Committee meet again to-morrow, and after that there 
 will be no meeting for some time. If I shal be compelled to re- 
 turn the same blank answer I have hitherto done, the inference 
 drawn will naturally be, that what w^as designed by himself, who 
 moved it, and by those who voted it, as a gratifying mark of at- 
 tention to Sheridan through you, (as the most gratifying mode of 
 conveying it.) has, for some unaccountable reason, been mistaken 
 and is declined. 
 
 “ But I shall be glad to know before to-morrow, what is your 
 determination on the subject. 
 
 “ I am, dear Esther, 
 
 “ Affectionately yours, 
 
 Dover- Street^ July 12, 1812. “ S. Whitbread.” 
 
 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 offered to bring him into Parliament ; but the thought 
 of returning to that scene of his triumphs and his freedom, with 
 the Royal owner’s 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 humili- 
 ations to which he would have been exposed, between his ancient 
 pledge to Whiggism and his attachment and gratitude to Roy- 
 alty, it is not wonderful that he should have preferred even the 
 alternative of arrests and imprisonments 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 them- 
 selves justice, amid the pressure of such cares, and the increased 
 indulgence of habits, which, as is usual, gained upon him, as all 
 
802 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THH 
 
 other indulgences vanished. The ancients, we are told, by a sig 
 nificant 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 too 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 his exclusion, 
 therefore, from Parliament, he was, perhaps, seasonably saved 
 from affording to that ‘‘Polly, which loves the martyrdom of 
 Pame,”'^ the spectacle of a great mind, not only surviving itself, 
 but, like the champion in Berni, continuing the combat after life 
 is gone : — 
 
 ^^Andava comhattendoj ed era moHo.-- 
 
 In private society, however, he could, even now, (before the Rubi- 
 con of the cup was passed,) fully justify his high reputation for 
 agreeableness and wit ; and a day which it was my good fortune 
 to spend with him, at the table of Mr. Rogers, has too many 
 mournful, as well as pleasant, associations connected with it, to 
 be easily forgotten by the survivors of the party. The company 
 consisted but of Mr. Rogers himself. Lord Byron, Mr. Sheridan, 
 and thf; writer of this Memoir. Sheridan knew the admiration 
 his audience felt 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 ani- 
 mating to himself than delightful to us. It was in the course of this 
 evening that, describing to us the poem which Mr. Whitbread had 
 written and sent in, among the other Addresses, for the opening 
 of Drury-Lane, and which, like the rest, turned chiefly on allu- 
 sions to the Phenix, he said, — “ But Whitbread made more of 
 this bird than any of them : — he entered into particulars, and 
 
 * “And Folly loves the martyrdom of Fame.” 
 
 This fine line is in Lord Byron’s Monody to his memory. There is another line, equally 
 true and touching, where allud ng to the irregularities of the latter part of Sheridan’s 
 life, ne says — 
 
 “ Vnd what to them seem’d vice might be but woe ” 
 
HldHt HOiT. RICHARD BRlKSLR^ SHHRIDAK. 803 
 
 described its wings, beak, tail, &c. ; 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 IS, 1813. 
 
 “ Lord Holland told me a curious piece of sentimentality in 
 Sheridan. The other night we were all delivering our respec- 
 tive and various opinions on him and other ‘ hommes marquans^ 
 and mine was this : — ‘ Whatever Sheridan has done or chosen to 
 do has been jyar 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.’ 
 Somebody told Sheridan this the next day, and on hearing it, he 
 burst into tears! — Poor Brinsley! If they were tears of plea- 
 sure, I would rather have said those few, but sincere, words, 
 than have written the Iliad, or made his own celebrated Philippic. 
 Nay, 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 
 property 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 already mentioned, were presented 
 to him by various friends, now stood in their splendid bindings,^ 
 
 * In most of them, too, were the names of the givers. The delicacy with which Mr. 
 Harrison of Wardour-Street, (tlie pawnbroker with whom the books and the cun were dc’ 
 
304 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF TH^ 
 
 on the shelves of the pawnbroker. ^ The handsome cup, given 
 him by the electors of Stafford, shared the same fate. Three or 
 four fine pictures by Gainsborough, and one by Mori and, were 
 sold for little more than five hundred pounds ; ^ and even the 
 precious portrait of his first wife,f by Reynolds, though not ac- 
 tually 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. In the spring of this year he was arrested and carried to 
 a spunging-house, where he remained two or three days. 
 This abode, from which the following painful letter to Whit- 
 bread was written, formed a sad contrast to those Princely halls, 
 of which he had so lately been the most brilliant and favored 
 guest, and which were possibly, at that very moment, lighted up 
 and crowded with gay company, unmindful of him within those 
 prison walls : — 
 
 ^^Tooheh Court, Cursitor- Street^ Thursday ^ 'past two, 
 
 “ I have done everything in my power with the solicitors, 
 White and F ounes, 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 had not forcibly withheld* 
 
 posited,) behaved, after the death of Mr. Sheridan, deserves to be mentioned with praise. 
 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 circumstance of his having such articles in his hands, 
 and demanded nothing more than the sum regularly due on them. The Stafford cup is in 
 the possession of Mr. Charles Sheridan. 
 
 * In the following extract from a note to his solicitor, he refers to these pictures : 
 
 “ Dear Burgess, 
 
 “I am perfectly satisfied with your account ; — nothing can be more clear or fair, or 
 more disinterested on your part but I must grieve to think that five or six hundred 
 pounds for my poor pictures are added to i he expenditure. However, 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 closei resemblance tx> 
 the original,) still more beautiful 
 
l^lGHT HON. RICHAliD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. B06 
 
 from me the twelve thousand pounds^ in consequence of a threat- 
 ening letter from a miserable swindler, whose claim YOU in 
 particular knew to he 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 lavA’er in the land, that is not either a natuarl-born fool or 
 a corrupted scoundrel, who will not declare that your conduct in 
 this respect was neither warrantable nor legal — but let that pass 
 for the present. 
 
 “ Independently of the 1000/. ignorantly withheld from me on 
 the day of considering my last claim. I require of you to an- 
 swer the draft I send herewith on the part of the Committee, 
 pledging myself to prove to them on the first day I can personal- 
 ly meet them, that there are still thousands and thousands due 
 to me, both le£fally, 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 confidence have I trusted your word.^ — I ask jus- 
 tice from you, and no boon. I enclosed you yesterday three dif- 
 ferent securities, wPich 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 dis- 
 creetly offered to put into the fire, when you found the object of 
 your humane visit satisfied by seeing me safe in prison. 
 
 “I 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 wdfe, I would have risked 600/. rather 
 than have left you so — although I had been in no way accessary 
 in bringing you into that condition. 
 
 “ S. Whitbread^ Esq. “ R. B. Sheridan.” 
 
 Even in this situation the sanguineness of his disposition did 
 not desert him ; for he was found by Mr. Whitbread, on his 
 visit to the spunging-house, confidently calculating on the repre- 
 sentation for Westminster, in which the proceedings relative to 
 
?M MEMOIRS of tMe life OF 
 
 Lord Cochrane at that moment promised a vacancy. On his 
 return home, however, to Mrs. Sheridan, (some arrangements 
 having been made by Whitbread for his release,) all his forti- 
 tude forsook him, and he burst into a long and passionate fit of 
 weeping at the profanation, as he termed it, which his person had 
 sufiered. 
 
 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 
 care 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 cloud- 
 ed to me, is mutually spared to us. I have expressed this same 
 sentiment 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 
 sincere — and have since cordially embraced him. Don’t imagine 
 that I am expressing an interesting apprehension about myself, 
 which 1 do not feel.” 
 
 Though the new Theatre of Drury-Lane had now been three 
 vears built, his feelings had never allowed him to set his foot 
 within its walls. About this time, however, he was persuaded 
 by his friend. Lord Essex, to dine with him and go in the even- 
 ing to His Lordship’s box, to see Kean. Once there, the ‘^genius 
 loci’’* seems to have regained its influence over him ; for, on miss- 
 ing him from the box, between the Acts, Lord Essex, who feared 
 that he had left the House, hastened out to inquire, 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 filial cordiality. Wine was imme- 
 diately ordered, and a bumper to the health of Mr. Sheridan 
 was drank by all present, with the expression 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 
 
mam hok. ricsaud bkiksley sheridan. 307 
 
 said triumphantly that the world woi.ld 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 ap- 
 pears but rarely to have had recourse to pecuniary assistance 
 from friends. Mr. 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 occasional trifle as his coach-hire, he was by no means, 
 as has been sometimes asserted, in the habit of borrowing. One 
 instance, however, where he laid himself under this sort of obli- 
 gation, 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 unnecessary 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 Person- 
 age, 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. 
 
 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 powders of digestion 
 grew every day worse, till he was at length unable to retain any 
 
808 
 
 Memoirs of the life op the 
 
 sustenance. 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 particular‘ly, as I have heard his physician remark, the pecu- 
 liar width and capaciousness of his chest, seemed to mark him 
 out for a long course of healthy existence. In general Nature 
 appears to have a prodigal delight in enclosing her costliest es- 
 sences in the most frail and perishable vessels : — but Sheridan 
 was a signal exception to this remark ; for, with a spirit so 
 “ finely touched,” he combined all the robustness 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 he felt. From that moment, her 
 attentions to the sufferer never ceased day or night ; and, thougn 
 drooping herself with an illness that did not leave her long be 
 hind him, she watched over his every w^ord and wish, with unre- 
 mitting anxiety, to the last. 
 
 * A letter rom 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 sleeping in 
 the same bed with a lady who was consumptive, expresses feelings creditable alike to 
 the writer and his physician : — 
 
 ‘ ‘ My dear Sir, July 31. 
 
 “ The caution you recommend proceeds from that attentive kindness which Hester al- 
 ways receives from you, and upon which I place the greatest reliance for her safety. 1 
 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 hei 
 friend. Nothing can abate my love for her ; and the manner in which you apply the in 
 tcrest you take in her happiness, and direct the influence you possess in her mind, ren 
 der you, beyond comparison, the person I feel most ( bliged to upon earth. I take this 
 opportunity of saying this upon paper, because it is a subject on which 1 always find it 
 difficult to speak. 
 
 “ With respect to tliat part of your note in which you express such friendly partiality, 
 as to my parliamentary conduct, 1 need not add that there is no man whose good opinion 
 can be more flattering to ms. 
 
 “ I am ever, iny dear Bain, f 
 
 “ Vour sincere and obliged 
 
 “ R B. SHKRIDAJf.^^ 
 
RIGHT HCN. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 309 
 
 Connected, no doubt, with the disorganization of his stomach, 
 was an abscess, from which, though distressingly situated, he 
 does not appear to have suffered much pain. In the spring of 
 this year, however, he was obliged to confine himself, almost 
 entirely, to nis 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 
 cii'i.se cjf his absence. The contents of this letter were com 
 municated to the company, and produced, as appears by the 
 following note from the Duke of Kent, a strong sensation : — 
 
 Kensington Palace, March 27, 1816. 
 
 ‘‘ My dear Sheridan, 
 
 “ 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 presiding 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 the company, who expressed, in a manner that 
 could not be misunderstood^ their continued affection for the 
 writer of it. It now only remains for me to assure you, that I 
 appreciate as I ought the sentiments of attachment it contains 
 for me, and which will ever be most cordially returned by him, 
 who is with the most friendly regard, my dear Sheridan, 
 
 “ Yours faithfully. 
 
 The Right Hon. R. B. Sheridan. “ Edward.” 
 
 The following letter to him at 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 1 shall 
 soon have the satisfaction of hearing that you are in a fair way 
 of recovery. I well know the 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 
 sevent^^ four, who many years since was attacked with a similaz 
 
A 
 
 310 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 
 
 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, this officious zeal. Your 
 son Thomas told me he felt obliged to me for not prescribing for 
 him. I did not, because in his case I thought it would be ineffec- 
 tual ; in yours I have reason to hope the contrary. I am very 
 glad to hear of the good effect change of climate has made in 
 him ; — I took a great liking to him; there was something kind in 
 his manner that won upon my affections. Of your son Charles 
 I hear the most delightful accounts : — that he has an excellent 
 and cultivated understanding, and a heart as good. May he be a 
 blessing to.you, and a compensation for much you have endured ! 
 That I do not know him, that I have not seen you, (so early and 
 so long the object of my affection,) for so many years, has not 
 been my fault; but I have ever considered it as a drawback upon 
 a situation not otherwise unfortunate ; for, to use the words of 
 Goldsmith, I have endeavored to ‘ draw upon content for the 
 deficiencies of fortune ;’ and truly I have had some employment 
 in that way, for considerable have been our worldly disappoint- 
 ments. But those are 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 childhood 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 great difference. 
 At that period of existence, when the temper, morals, and pro- 
 pensities are formed, Tom had a mother who watched over his 
 health, his w^ell-being, and every part of education in which a 
 female could be useful. You had lost a mother who would have 
 cherished you, whose talents you inherited, who would have soft- 
 ened the asperity of our father’s temper, and probably have 
 prevented his unaccountable partialities. You have always shown 
 a noble independence of spirit, that the pecuniary difficulties you 
 often had to encounter could not induce you to forego. As a 
 public man, you have been^ like the jnotto of the Le%iu family. 
 
RIGHT HON. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN, 811 
 
 *Sme macula i’ 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 around him also ; nor did the last cor 
 ner, in which he now lay down to die, afford him any asylum 
 from the clamors of his 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 situation in which his old friend was ly- 
 ing, paid him a visit one evening, in company with Mr. Rogers, 
 and by the cordiality, suavity, and cheerfulness of his conversa- 
 tion, shed a charm round that chamber of sickness, which, per- 
 haps, no other voice but his own could have imparted. 
 
 Sheridan was, I believe, sincerely attached to Lord Holland, in 
 whom he saw transmitted the same fine qualities, both of mind 
 and heart, which, notwithstanding occasional appearances to the 
 contrary, he had never ceased to love and admire in his great 
 relative ; — the same ardor 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 injustice — and, in addition to all this, a range and vivacity of 
 conversation, entirely his own, which leaves no subject untouched 
 or unadorned, but is, (to borrow a fancy of Dryden,) “ as the 
 Morning of the Mind,” bringing new objects and images succes- 
 sively into view, and scattering its own fresh light over all. 
 ^uch a visit, therefore, could not fail to be soothing and gratify 
 
312 
 
 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 
 
 ing to Sheridan ; and, on parting, both Lord Holland and Mr. 
 Eogers comforted him with the assurance that some steps should 
 be taken to w^ard off the immediate evils that he dreaded. 
 
 An evening or two after, (Wednesday, May 15,) I was with 
 Mr. Rogers, when, on returning home, he found the following af 
 dieting note upon his table : — 
 
 “ Savilk-Row. 
 
 “I find things settled so that 150/. will remove all difficulty. 
 I am absolutely undone and broken-hearted. I shall negotiate 
 for the Plays successfully in the course of a week, when all shall 
 be returned. I have desired Fairbrother to get back the Guar- 
 antee for thirty. 
 
 “ They are going to put the carpets out of window, and break 
 into Mrs. S.’s room and take 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, but 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 w^as early with Mr. Rogers, and 
 willingly undertook to be the bearer of a draft for 150/.“^ to Sa- 
 ville-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 w^as that lustre, 
 for wFich his eyes w^ere 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 certainty 
 he felt of being able to arrange all his afiairs, if his complaint 
 would but sufier him to leave his bed. 
 
 T.ord Holland aflerAvards insisted upon paying the half of this sum, — wliich was no* 
 the first of the same amount that my liberal friend, Mr. Rogers, had advanced for Sheri 
 dan. 
 
EIGHT HON. KICHARD BEINSLEY SHERIDAN. 813 
 
 % 
 
 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 I can learn, it does not appear that, (with the exceptions 
 I have mentioned,) any one of his Noble or Royal friends ever 
 called at his door, or even sent to inquire after him 1 
 
 About this period Doctor Bain received the folio wmg note 
 from Mr. V aughan : — 
 
 “My dear Sir, 
 
 “An apology in a case of humanity is scarcely necessary, be- 
 sides 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 nor 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 50/. Perhaps as much 
 more might be had if it will be conducive to a good end — of 
 course you must feel it is not for the purpose of satisfying trou- 
 blesome 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, 
 
 “ 23, Grafton- Street “ John Taylor Vaughan. 
 
 “ If I should not see you before twelve, I will come through 
 the passage to you.” 
 
 In his interview with Dr. Bain, Mr. Vaughan stated, that the 
 sum. thus placed at his disposal was, in all, 200/. f and the pro- 
 position being submitted to hlrs. Sheridan, that lady, after con- 
 suiting with some of her relatives, returned for answer that, as 
 
 ♦ Mr. Vaughan did uol give Doctor Buin to understand that lie was authorized to go l»p- 
 yond the 200Z. ; but, in a conversation which I liad with liim a year or two after, incop- 
 teinplalion ot this Memoir, lie Udd me that a further supply was intende4. 
 
 yoh, ih 1 4 
 
314 
 
 MEMOIES OF THE LIFE OF THE 
 
 there was a sufficiency of means to provide all that was neces- 
 sary for her husband’s comfort, as well 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 credi- 
 ble. It would be safer, perhaps, to let the suspicion rest upon 
 that gentleman’s memory, of having indulged his own benevo- 
 lent disposition in this disguise, than to suppose it possible that 
 so scanty and reluctant a benefaction was the sole mark of atten- 
 tion accorded by a “ gracious Prince and Master”* to the hist, 
 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 Anaxagoras lay dying for want of suste- 
 nance, his great pupil, Pericles, sent him a sum of money. “ Take 
 it back,” said Anaxagoras — if he wished to keep the lamp alive, 
 he ought to have administered the oil before !” 
 
 In the mean time, the clamors and incursions of creditors in- 
 creased. A sheriff's officer at length arrested the dying man in 
 his bed, and was about to carry him off, in his blankets, to a 
 spunging-house, when Doctor Bain interfered — and, by threaten- 
 ing the officer with the responsibility 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 attention and sympathy of the 
 Public were, for the first time, awakened to the desolate situa- 
 tion of Sheridan, by an article that appeared in the Morning 
 Post, — written, as I understand, by a gentleman, who, though on 
 no very cordial terms with him, forgot every other feeling in a 
 generous pity for his fate, and in honest indignation against those 
 who now deserted him.“ “ Oh delay not,” said the writer, with- 
 out naming the person to whom he alluded — “ delay not to draw 
 aside the curtain within which that proud spirit hides its suffer 
 ings.” He then adds, with a striking anticipation of what after- 
 wards happened ; — “ Prefer ministering in the chamber of sick 
 oess to mustering at 
 
 ^ ^ee Sherhlan’s lA:>lter, r>a^n 
 
RIGHT HON. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 315 
 
 * The splendid sorrows that adorn the hearse 
 
 I say, Life and Succor against Westminster- Abbey and a Fune- 
 ral !” 
 
 This article produced a strong and general sensation, and was 
 reprinted in the same paper the following day. Its effect, too, 
 was soon visible in the calls made at Sheridan’s door, and in the 
 appearance of such names as the Duke of York, the Duke of 
 Argyle, dec. among the visitors. But it was now too late ; — the 
 spirit, that these unavailing tributes might once have comforted, 
 was now fast losing the consciousness of every thing earthly, but 
 pain. After a succession of shivermg fits, he fell into a state of 
 exhaustion, in which he continued, with but few more signs of 
 suffering, till his death. A day or two before that event, the 
 Bishop of London read prayers by his bed- side ; and on Sunday^ 
 the seventh of July, in the sixty-fifth year of his age, he died. 
 
 On the following Saturday the Funeral took place; — ^his re- 
 mains having been previously removed from Saville-Row to the 
 house of his friend, Mr. Peter Moore, in Great George-Street, 
 Westminster. From thence, at one o’clock, the procession 
 moved on foot to the Abbey, where, in the only spot in Poet’s 
 Corner that remained unoccupied, the body was interred; and 
 the following simple inscription marks its resting-place : — 
 
 “RICHAED 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 
 
 It was well remarked by a French Journa., in contrasting the penury of Sheridan's 
 latter years with the splendor of his Funeral, that ‘‘ France is the place for a man of let- 
 ters to live in, and England the place tor him to die in.” 
 
816 
 
 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 
 
 His Eoyal Highness the Duke of York, His Royal Highness the 
 Duke of Sussex, the Duke pf Argyle, the Marquisses of Anglesea 
 and Tavistock ; the Earls of Thanet, Jersey, Harrington, Bes- 
 borough, Mexborough, Rosslyn, and Yarmouth ; Lords George 
 Cavendish and Robert Spencer ; Viscounts Sid mouth, Granville, 
 and D uncannon ; Lords Rivers, Erskine, and Lynedoch • the 
 Lord Mayor ; Right Hon. G. Canning and W. W. Pole, &c.. 
 
 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 unworthy of the commonest offices of 
 humanity while he lived, why all this parade of regret and hom- 
 age over his tomb ? 
 
 There appeared some verses at the time, which, however in 
 temperate in their satire and careless in their style, came, evi- 
 dently, warm from the heart of the writer, and contained senti- 
 ments to which, even in his cooler moments, he needs not hesi- 
 tate to subscribe : — 
 
 Oh it sickens the heart to see bosoras so hollow, 
 
 And friendshi}xs so false in the great and high-born ; — 
 
 To think what a long line of Titles may follow 
 The relics of him who died, friendless and lorn ! 
 
 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 
 
 ♦ In the of all this phalanx of Dukes, Marquisses, Earls, Viscounts, Barons, 
 
 Honorable*, and Right Honorables, Princes of the Blood Royal, and First Officers of the 
 State, it was not a little interesting to see, walking humbly, side by side, the only two 
 men whose friendship had not wailed for the call of vanity to display itself — Dr. Bain and 
 BogerSy 
 
RIGHT HON. KICHAKD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 817 
 
 The anonymous writer thus characterizes the talents of She 
 ridan : — 
 
 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 humor, 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 brightened whatever it tried, 
 
 Whether reason or Ihncy, the gay or the grave. 
 
 Was as rapid, as deep, and as brilliant a tide. 
 
 As ever bore Freedom aloft on its wave I” 
 
 Though a perusal of the foregoing pages has, I trust, sufficiently 
 furnished the reader with materials out of which to form his own 
 estimate of the character of Sheridan, a few general remarks 
 may, at parting, be allowed me — rather with a view to conrey 
 the impressions left upon myself, than with any presumptuous 
 hope of influencing the deductions of others. 
 
 In considering the intellectual powers of this extraordinary 
 man, the circumstance that first strikes us is the very scanty 
 foundation of instruction, upon which he contrived to raise him- 
 self 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 bareness in this respect. In politics, too, he 
 had the advantage of entering upon his career, at a time when 
 habits of business and a knowledge of details were less looked 
 
818 
 
 Memoirs oe the life of the 
 
 for in public men than they 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. Not only has the time of the Legislature become too 
 precious to be wasted upon the mere gymnastics of rhetoric, but 
 even those graces, with which true Oratory surrounds her state- 
 ments, are but impatiently borne, where the statement itself is 
 the primary and pressing object of the hearer.* Burke, we 
 know, was, even for his own time, too much addicted to what 
 falconers would call Taking^ or flyiug wide of his game; but 
 there was hardly, perhaps, one among his great contemporaries, 
 w’^ho, if beginning his career at present, would not find it, in 
 some degree, necessary to conform his style to the taste for 
 business and matter-of-fact that is prevalent. Mr. Pitt would 
 be compelled to curtail the march of his sentences — Mr. Fox 
 would learn to repeat himself less lavishly — nor would Mr. 
 Sheridan 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, wFich, 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 edu- 
 cation and habits of life w^ould have rendered less easily attain- 
 able by him, w^e must take also into account the prodigious dif- 
 
 * The new light that has been thrown on Political Science may also, perhaps, be as- 
 signed as a reason for 'this evident revolution in Parliamentary taste. • “Truth,” says Lord 
 Bacon, “ is a naked and open daylight, that doth not show the masques, and mummeries, 
 and triumphs of the present world half so stately and daintily as candle-lights — and 
 there can be little doubt that the clearer any important truths are made, the less contro- 
 versy they will excite among fair and rational men, and the less passion and fancy ac- 
 cordingly, 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 imagination is most roused. In proof of this, while the acknowledged clearness, al- 
 most 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 an- 
 other arena left, in the science of the Law, where the same illumination of truth has not 
 yet penetrated, and where Oratory will still continue to work her perplexing spells, till 
 Common Sense and tht plain prmciples of Utility shall find their way there also to weaken 
 thorn. 
 
ElOfiT HON. RlCllAftD fifelNSLEY SHERiDAN. gl9 
 
 fererxe produced by the general movement, at present, of the 
 whole civilized world towards knowledge ; — a movement, which 
 no public man, however great his natural talents, could now lag 
 behind with impunity, and w^hich requires nothing less than 
 the versatile and encyclopcedic 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 labor 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 behind by him have added nothing to the stock of 
 his chef (Tceuvres^ 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 gradual process by which they were 
 brought “ firm to retain their gathered beams,” has, as in the in- 
 stance of The School for Scandal, been most interestingly unfold- 
 ed to us. 
 
 The same marks of labor are discoverable throughout the 
 whole of his Parliamentary career. He never made a speech 
 of any moment, of which the sketch, more or less detailed, has 
 not been found among his papers — with the showder 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 w’ords ‘‘ Good God, Mr. 
 Speaker,” were to be introduced. These preparatory sketches are 
 continued down to his latest displays ; and it is observable that 
 when from the increased derangement of his affairs, he had no 
 longer leisure or collectedness 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 
 
S20 
 
 MEMOIES OF THE LIFE OF THE 
 
 the day that he remained in bed, — when, frequently, while the 
 world gave him credit for being asleep, he was employed in lay- 
 ing 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 labor, indeed, which he found necessary 
 for his public displays, was, in a great degree, the combined ef- 
 fect of his ignorance and his taste ; — the one rendering him fear 
 fill of committing himself on the matter of his task, and the 
 other making him fastidious and hesitating as to the manner of it. 
 I cannot help thinking, however, that there must have been, also, 
 a degree of natural slowness in the first movements of his mind 
 upon any topic ; and, that, like those animals which remain gaz- 
 ing upon their prey before they seize it, he found it necessary to 
 look intently at his subject for some time, 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 to judge. Had his wit 
 been a “ fruit, that would fall without shaking,” we should, in 
 these communications at least, find some casual windfalls of it. 
 But, from the want of sufficient time to search and cull, he seems 
 to have given up, in despair, all thoughts of being lively in his 
 letters ; and accordingly, as the reader must have observed in 
 the specimens that have been given, his compositions in this way 
 
 ♦ His best ton-mots are in Ihe memory of every one. Among those less known, per- 
 haps, is his answer to General T , relative to some difference of opinion between them 
 
 on ihe War in Spain : — “ Well, T , are you still on your high horse?” — “If I was on 
 
 a liorse before, I am upon an elephant now.” “ No,T , you were upon an ass before, 
 
 and now you are upon a 
 
 Some mention having been made in his presence of a Tax upon Milestones, Sheridan 
 said, “ such a tax w'ould be unconstitutional, — as they were a race that could not meet 
 to remonstrate.” 
 
 As an instance of his humor, I have been told that, in some country-house where he 
 was on a visit, an elderly maiden lady having set her heart on being his companion in a 
 walk, he excused himself at first on account of the badness of the weather. Soon after- 
 wards, 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 two.’* 
 
iiiafiT HON. KICHAKb BRlNSLEY SHERIDAN. 821 
 
 are not only unenlivened by any excursions beyond the bounds 
 of mere matter 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 that even liis hon-mots in society were not always 
 to be set down to the credit of the occasion ; but that frequently, 
 like skilful priests, he prepared the miracle of the moment be- 
 fore-hand. Nothing, indeed, could be more remarkable than the 
 patience and tact, with which he would wait through a whole 
 evening for the exact moment, when the shaft which he had rea- 
 dy feathered, might be let fly with effect. There was no efibit, 
 either obvious or disguised, to lead to the subject — no “ question 
 detached, (as he himself expresses it,) to draw you into the am- 
 buscade of his ready-made joke” — and, when the lucky moment 
 did arrive, the natural and accidental manner in which he would 
 let this treasured sentence 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 
 what he said might 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- 
 liant sally, which threw a light over the whole evening, and was 
 carried away in the memories of all present. Nor must it be 
 supposed that in the intervals, either before or after these flashes, 
 he ceased to be agreeable ; on the contrary, he had a grace and 
 good nature in his manner, which gave a charm to even his most 
 ordinary sayings, — and there was, besides, that ever-speaking 
 lustre in his eye, which made it impossible, even when he was 
 silent, to forget who he was. 
 
 A curious instance of the care with which he treasured up the 
 felicities of his v/it, appears in the use he made of one of those 
 
 * See Sotheby’s admirable Translation of Oberon, Canto 9, 
 
 VOL. n. 14 * 
 
S22 MEMOIRS OR THE LIFE OF THE 
 
 epigrammatic passages, which the reader may remember among 
 the memorandums for his Comedy of Affectation, and which, in 
 its first form, ran thus : — “ He certainly has a great deal of fan- 
 cy, and a very good memory ; but, with a perverse ingenuity, he 
 empJoys 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 ’tis only when he states his facts that you admire 
 the flights of his imagination.” After many efforts to express 
 this thought more*^ concisely, and to reduce the language of it to 
 that condensed and elastic state, in which alone it gives force to 
 the projectiles of wit, he kept the passage by him patiently some 
 years, — till at length he 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 Honorable Gentleman is indebted to his memory for his 
 jests, and to his imagination for his facts.” 
 
 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 times, a task full of usefulness and honor, how 
 much more glorious to have stood sentinel 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 patrio- 
 tism with treason, and when the few remaining and deserted 
 friends of Freedom were reduced to take their stand on a nar- 
 rowing 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 Constitution will long testify. The truly 
 national spirit, too, with which, when that struggle was past, and 
 the dangers to liberty from without seemed greater than any 
 from within, he forgot all past differences, in the one common 
 
RIGHT HOiSr. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAK. S26 
 
 cause of Englishmen, and, while others “ gave but the left hand 
 to the Country,”* proffered her both of his, stamped a seal of sin- 
 cerity on his public conduct, w^hich, 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 w^ere the sole merit 
 of a public man, his movements, at this and other junctures, w^'ere 
 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 ? w'ere they, as regarded the indi- 
 vidual himself, unpurchased ? To the former question, in the 
 instance of Sheridan, the whole country responded in the affirm- 
 ative ; 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 Party, when we re- 
 collect that he more than once submitted to some of the worst 
 martyrdoms which it imposes — that of sharing in the responsibil- 
 ity of opinions from which he dissented, and suffering by the ill 
 consequences of measures against which he had protested ; — when 
 we call to mind, too, that during the Administration of Mr. Ad- 
 dington, though agreeing wholly with the Ministry and differing 
 wdth 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 honor, to suffer for a faith in which he did not 
 believe — it seems impossible not to concede that even to the ob- 
 ligations 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 the 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 ; and, as I have heard one of his own party happily ex- 
 press it, was “ like pure gold, that changes color in the fire, but 
 comes out unaltered.” 
 
 * His owii words 
 
B24 M^JMOIRS OF l^HE LIFE OF THE 
 
 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 
 arthe shrine that protected him, is a subject more of deep regret 
 than of wonder. The poet Cowley, in speaking of the unpro- 
 ductiveness of those pursuits connected with Wit and Fancy, 
 says beautifully— 
 
 Where such fairies once have danced, no grass will ever grow 
 
 but, unfortunately, thorns wi'll grow there ; — and he who walks 
 unsteadily among such thorns as now beset the once enchanted 
 path of Sheridan, ought not, after all, to be very severely criti- 
 cised. 
 
 His social qualities were, unluckily for himself, but too 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 anfl 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 de Seigneur^'' paid with unwillingness and distaste. 
 
 No one was so ready and cheerful in promoting the amuse- 
 ments of a country-house ; and on a rural excursion he was al- 
 ways 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 hiniself. 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 Marsden Moor, and ordered “ Captain” Creevey 
 
HON. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 825 
 
 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 take such pleasure 
 in the society of children. I have been told, as doubly charac- 
 teristic of him, that he has often, at Mr. Monckton’s, kept a 
 chaise and four waiting half the day for him at the door, while 
 he romped with the children. 
 
 In what are called Verb de Societit^ 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 followincr : 
 
 O 
 
 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 Eden’s bowers they rov’d ; 
 
 Ere yet the Devil, with promise foul and false. 
 
 Turn’d their poor heads and taught them how to Walse. 
 
 One hand grasps hers, the other holds her hip — 
 
 * * * * * 
 
 For so the Law’s laid down by Baron Trip.”* 
 
 He had a sort of hereditary fancy for difficult trifling in poe- 
 tiy ; — particularly for that sort, which consists in rhyming to the 
 same word through a long string of couplets, till every rhyme 
 that the language supplies for it is exhausted, f The following 
 are specimens from a poem of this kind, which he wrote on the 
 loss of a lady’s trunk : — 
 
 “My Trunk! 
 
 (7b Anne.) 
 
 ‘^Have you heard, my dear Anne, how my spirits are sunk? 
 
 Have you heard of the cause ? Oh, the loss of my Trunk I 
 rom exertion or firmness I’ve never yet slunk ; 
 
 But my fortitude’s gone with the loss of my Trunk I 
 
 ♦ This gentleman, whose name suits so aptly as legal authority on the subject of Waltz- 
 ing, was at the time these verses were written, well known in the dancing cireies. 
 
 t Some verset by General Fitzpatrick on I,-rd Holland’s father are the best specimen 
 that I know of t lis sort of ScHrzo. 
 
326 
 
 MEMOIKS OF THE LIFE OF THE 
 
 Stout Lucy, my maid, is a damsel of spunk ; 
 
 Yet she weeps night and day for the loss of my Trunk \ 
 
 I’d better turn 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-s put for tunc; 
 
 But, tunc and nunc both, must I grieve for my T'unk ! 
 
 Huge leaves of that great commentator, old Brunck, 
 
 Perhaps was the paper that lin’d my poor Trunk I 
 But my rhymes are all out ; — for I dare not use st — k ;* 
 
 ’Twould shock Sheridan more than the loss of my Trunks 
 
 From another of these trifles, (which, no doubt, produced 
 much gaiety at the breakfast-table,) the following extracts will 
 be sufficient: — 
 
 ‘‘ Muse, assist me to complain. 
 
 While 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 /awe. 
 
 Nine rolls I eat, in hopes to gain 
 
 The roll that might have fall’n to /awe,” &c. 
 
 Another written on a Mr. Bigg^ contains some ludicrous coup- 
 lets : — 
 
 I own he’s not fam’d for a reel or a jig, 
 
 Tom Sheridan there supasses Tom Bigg, — 
 
 * He had a particular horror of this word. 
 
EIGHT HOX. EICHAED Blil^'SLEY SHERIDAN. 827 
 
 For lam’d iu one thigh, he is obliged to go zig- 
 Zag, like a crab — for 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 I 
 Tho’ 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^i^^.” 
 
 A few more of these light productions remain among his pa- 
 pers, but their wit is gone with those for whom they were writ- 
 ten ; — the wings of Time “ eripuereyocos.” 
 
 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 Govern- 
 ment, while ribands and titles were lavished on the Whig Seced- 
 ers * — 
 
 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, then 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 — Y and H ! 
 
 Look to what rubbish Stars will stick. 
 
 To Dicky H n and Johnny D k ! 
 
 ♦ This reminds me of a happy application which he made, upon a subsequent occasion 
 ’wo lines of Dryden : — 
 
 “ When men like Erskine go astray, 
 
 The stars are more in fault qion they.” 
 
S28 
 
 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 
 
 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 Sir R h ! 
 
 Would you, like C , pine with spleen, 
 
 Because your bit of silk was green ? 
 
 Would you, 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 honor too ? 
 
 Damn their ribands and their garters. 
 
 Get you to your post and quarters. 
 
 On the foes of Britain close. 
 
 While B k garters his Dutch hose, 
 
 And cons, with spectacles on nose, 
 
 (While to battle you advance,) 
 
 His ‘ Honi soit qui mal y pense,"^ ” 
 
 * ♦ * « 
 
 It has been seen, by a letter of his sister already given, that 
 when young, he was generally accounted handsome ; but, in later 
 years, his eyes were the only testimonials of beauty that re- 
 mained 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 person, he was above the middle size, and his 
 general make was, as I have already said, robust and well pro- 
 portioned. It is remarkable that his arms, though of powerful 
 strength, were thin, and appeared by no means muscular. His 
 hands were small and delicate ; and the following couplet, writ- 
 ten on a cast from one of them, very livelily enumerates both 
 its physical and moral qualities : — 
 
 ‘‘ Good at a Fight, but better at a Play, 
 
 Godlike in giving, but — the Devil to Pay !” 
 
 Among his halnts, 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 
 
RIGHT HOK. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 329 
 
 him while he wrote. Wine, too, was one of his favorite helps to 
 inspiration ; — “ 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 re\vards it.” 
 
 Having taken a cursory view of his Literary, Political, and 
 Social qualities, it remains for me 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 honorable 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 pa- 
 rental caprice, show' a heart that had, at least, set out by the 
 right road, however, in after years, it may have missed the way. 
 !^|phe enthusiastic love which his sister bore him, and retained un- 
 blighted 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 wmrld. We 'have seen the romantic fondness 
 v/hich he preserved towards the first Mrs. Sheridan, even while 
 doing bis utmost, and in vain, to extinguish the same feeling in 
 her. With the second wife, a course, nearly similar, was run ; 
 — the same “ scatterings and eclipses” of affection, from the 
 irregularities and vanities, in wblch 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 the essential 
 part of the feeling still remained. 
 
 To claim an exemption for frailties and irregularities on the 
 score of genius, w"hile there are such names as Milton and New- 
 ton on record, were to be blind to the example wPich these and 
 other great men have left, of the grandest intellectual powers 
 combined wdth the most virtuous lives. But, for the bias given 
 early to the mind by education and circumstances, even the least 
 charitable may be inclined to make large allowances. We have 
 seen how idly the young days of Sheridan were wasted — how 
 soon h^ w"as left, (in the words of the Prophet,) ‘‘ to dw'ell care- 
 
MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 
 
 £^80 
 
 lessly,” and with what an undisciplined temperament he was 
 thrown upon the world, to meet at every step 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 vaghe e monde 
 Ha Pacque si, che i riguardanti asseta, 
 
 Ma dentro ai freddi suoi cristalli asconde 
 Di tosco estran malvagita secreta.” 
 
 Even marriage, which is among the sedatives of other men’s 
 lives, but formed a part of the romance of his. The very at- 
 tractions 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 sub- 
 jected to the manege of a profession, there was still a chance tHiif 
 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 deceives a man himself, but enables him to de- 
 ceive others, and thus combined all that a person of his care- 
 lessness and ambition had most to dread. An uncertain income, 
 which, by eluding calculation, gives an excuse for improvidence,* 
 
 * How feelingly aware he was of this great source of all his misfortunes appears from 
 a passage in the able 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 in- 
 come. That disadvantage is greatly increased, if the person so circumstanced has con- 
 ceived himself to be in some degree entitled to presume that, by the exertion of his own 
 talents, he may at pleasure increase that income — thereby becoming induced to make 
 promises to himself which he may afterwards fail to fulfil. 
 
 “ Occasional excess and frequent unpunctuality will be the natural consequences 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, (not since the present 
 unexpected contention arose, for since then I would have adopted no arrangements,) but 
 months since, by my Deed of Trust to Mr. Adam, and in that situation I shall remain un- 
 til every debt on earth, in which the Theatre or I am concerned, shall be fully and fairly 
 discharged. Till then I will live on what remains to me — preserving that spirit of un 
 daunted independence, which, both as a public and a private nr.an, I trust, I have hilh 
 erlo maintained.’^ 
 
BIGHT HON. RICHABD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 331 
 
 and, still more fatal, a facility of raising money, by \N hich 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-twentieth year, and amidst the 
 intoxication of as deep and quick draughts of fame as ever young 
 author quatfed. 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 w’^ere for ever opening on his 
 party, made his hopes as fluctuating and uncertain as his means, 
 and encouraged the same delusive calculations on both. He 
 seemed, at every new turn of affairs, to be on the point of re- 
 deeming himself ; and the confidence of others in his resources 
 was no less fatal to him than his own, as it but increased the fa- 
 cilities of ruin that surrounded 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 attrac- 
 tions all drawing the wrong way, and a Voice, like that which 
 Bossuet describes, 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, — that 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 survived his ability to practise it. 
 
 Numerous, however, as were the causes that concurred to dis- 
 organize his moral character, in his pecuniary embarrassment lay 
 
 * “ La loi est prononcee : il faut avancer touiours. Je voudrois retourner sur mes pas : 
 
 * Marche, Marche !’ Un poids invincible nous entraine : il faul sans cesse avancer vers 
 le precipice. On se console pourtant, parce que de terns en ten)s on rencontre des objets 
 qui nous divertissent, des eaux coiirantes, des fleurs qui passent. On voudroit arreter ; 
 
 ‘ Marche, Marche P ’’ — Sermon s>ur la Resurrection. 
 
832 
 
 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 
 
 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 little loss of reputation, if the con- 
 sequence of these indulgences had not been obtruded upon obser- 
 vation in the forbidding form of debts and distresses. So much 
 did his friend Richardson, who thoroughly knew him, consider his 
 whole character to have been influenced by the straitened circum- 
 stances in w'hich he was placed, that he used often to say, “ If an 
 enchanter could, by the touch of his wand, endow Sheridan sud- 
 denly with fortune, he would instantly transform him into a most 
 honorable and moral man.” As some corroboration of this opi- 
 nion, I must say that, in the course of the inquiries w^hich my 
 task of biographer imposed upon me, 1 have found all who were 
 ever engaged in pecuniary 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,) una- 
 nimous in expressing their conviction that he always meant fairly 
 and honorably ; and that to the inevitable pressure of circum- 
 stances alone, any failure that 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 
 
 * His improvidence in every thing connected with money was most remarkable. He 
 would frequently be obliged to stop on his journeys, for want of the means of getting on, 
 and to remain living expensively at an inn, till a remittance could reach him. His let- 
 ters to the treasurer of the theatre on these occasions were generally headed with the 
 words “Money-bound.” A friend of his told me, that one morning, while waiting for 
 him in his study, he cast his eyes over the heap of unopened letters that lay upon the ta- 
 ble, 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 found, 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 which Sheiidan, having raised the supplies in some other way, had never thought 
 of opening. The prudent treasurer took away the letter, and reserved the enclosure for 
 some future exigence. 
 
 Among instances of his inattention to letters, the following is mentioned. Going one 
 day to the bankirg-house, where be was accustomed to receive his salary, as Receiver 
 of Cornwall, and where they sometimes accommodated him with small sums before the 
 regular lijne of payment, he asked, with all due humility, whether they could oblige him 
 with the loan of fw'enty pounds. “ Cerainly, Sir,” said the clerk, — “would you like 
 any more— fifty, or a hundred?” Slieridan, all .smiles and gratitude, answered that a 
 hundred pounds would be of the greatest convenience to him. “Perhaps you wouid like 
 
MGHT HOK. RICHAKD BRINSLEir SHERlBAK. 33B 
 
 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 times over. Never examining accounts nor 
 referring to receipts, he seemed as if, (in imitation of his own 
 Charles, preferring generosity 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 seve- 
 ral 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 
 Homan, 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 conscien- 
 tiousness or from pride, however, he would not suffer any of the 
 claims to be contested, 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, accordingly, declined to proceed any further 
 with their commission. 
 
 On the same false feeling he acted in 1813-14, when the bal- 
 ance due on the sale of his theatrical property was paid him, 
 in a certain number of Shares. When applied to by any cred- 
 
 to take two hundred, or three?’' said the clerk. At every increase of the sum, the sur- 
 prise of the borrower increased. “Have not you then received our letter?” said the 
 clerk on which it turned out that, in consequence of the falling in of some fine, a sum 
 of tv/elve hundred pounds had been lately placed to the credit of the Receiver-General, 
 and that, from not having opened the letter written to apprise him, he had been left in 
 ignorance of his good luck. 
 
834 MEMOIRS OP THE LIFE OF THE 
 
 itor, 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 merit 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 examination,) “ whether 
 even the luckiness of the accident excused the irregularity 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 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 news- 
 papers, that the hona fide debts amounted to about five thousand 
 five hundred pounds. 
 
 If, therefore, we consider his pecuniary irregularities in refer- 
 ence 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 char- 
 acters in the world, who would be happy to have no deeper en- 
 croachment upon the property 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. 
 
 Lot it never, too, be forgotten, in estimating this part of his 
 character, that had he been less consistent and disinterested in 
 his public conduct, he might have commanded the means of be- 
 ing 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 
 
 * Chapter on Reason. 
 
HIGHT HON. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 335 
 
 errors and imprudences which 
 lecting how vain it is to look 
 world, rest satisfied with the 
 the Saint. 
 
 it entailed upon him ; and, recoh 
 for any thing unalloyed in this 
 Martyr, without requiring, also, 
 
 
 
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