Memoirs of the Life of the Rt. Hon. Richard Brinsley Sheridan — Volume 02 (2024)

Produced by Charles Franks, Robert Connal

and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team

MEMOIRS

OF THE

LIFE OF THE RT. HON.

RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN

BY THOMAS MOORE

IN TWO VOLUMES

VOL. II.

[Illustration]

CONTENTS TO VOL. II.

CHAPTER I.

Impeachment of Mr. Hastings.

CHAPTER II.

Death of Mr. Sheridan's Father.—Verses by Mrs. Sheridan on the Death ofher Sister, Mrs. Tickell.

CHAPTER III.

Illness of the King.—Regency.—Private Life of Mr. Sheridan.

CHAPTER IV.

French Revolution.—Mr. Burke.—His Breach with Mr. Sheridan.—Dissolutionof Parliament.—Mr. Burke and Mr. Fox.—Russian Armament.—Royal ScotchBoroughs.

CHAPTER V.

Death of Mrs. Sheridan.

CHAPTER VI.

Drury-Lane Theatre.—Society of "The Friends of the People."—Madame deGenlis.—War with France.—Whig Seceders.—Speeches in Parliament—Deathof Tickell.

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. Sheridan.—Pamphlet of Mr.
Reeves—Debts of the Prince of Wales.—Shakspeare Manuscripts.—Trial of
Stone.—Mutiny at the Nore.—Secession of Mr. Fox from Parliament.

CHAPTER VIII.

Play of "The Stranger."—Speeches in Parliament.—Pizarro.—Ministry of
Mr. Addington.—French Institute.—Negotiations with Mr. Kemble.

CHAPTER IX.

State of Parties.—Offer of a Place to Mr. T. Sheridan.—Receivership ofthe Duchy of Cornwall bestowed upon Mr. Sheridan.—Return of Mr. Pitt toPower.—Catholic Question.—Administration of Lord Grenville and Mr.Fox.—Death of Mr. Fox.—Representation of Westminster.—Dismission ofthe Ministry.—Theatrical Negotiation.—Spanish Question.—Letter to thePrince.

CHAPTER X.

Destruction of the Theatre of Drury-Lane by Fire.—Mr. Whitbread—Planfor a Third Theatre.—Illness of the King.—Regency.—Lord Grey and LordGrenville.—Conduct of Mr. Sheridan.—His Vindication of himself.

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.
—Correspondence with Mr. Whitbread.—Lord Byron.—Distresses of
Sheridan.—Illness.—Death and Funeral.—General Remarks.

MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE RIGHT HONORABLE RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN.

CHAPTER I.

IMPEACHMENT OF MR. HASTINGS.

The motion of Mr. Burke on the 10th of May, 1787, "That Warren Hastings,Esq., be impeached," having been carried without a division, Mr. Sheridanwas appointed one of the Managers, "to make good the Articles" of theImpeachment, and, on the 3d of June in the following year, broughtforward the same Charge in Westminster Hall which he had already enforcedwith such wonderful talent in the House of Commons.

To be called upon for a second great effort of eloquence, on a subject ofwhich all the facts and the bearings remained the same, was, it must beacknowledged, no ordinary trial to even the most fertile genius; and Mr.Fox, it is said, hopeless of any second flight ever rising to the grandelevation of the first, advised that the former Speech should be, withvery little change, repeated. But such a plan, however welcome it mightbe to the indolence of his friend, would have looked too like anacknowledgment of exhaustion on the subject to be submitted to by one sojustly confident in the resources both of his reason and fancy.Accordingly, he had the glory of again opening, in the very same field, anew and abundant spring of eloquence, which, during four days, diffusedits enchantment among an assembly of the most illustrious persons of theland, and of which Mr. Burke pronounced at its conclusion, that "of allthe various species of oratory, of every kind of eloquence that had beenheard, either in ancient or modern times; whatever the acuteness of thebar, the dignity of the senate, or the morality of the pulpit couldfurnish, had not been equal to what that House had that day heard inWestminster Hall. No holy religionist, no man of any description as aliterary character, could have come up, in the one instance, to the puresentiments of morality, or in the other, to the variety of knowledge,force of imagination, propriety and vivacity of allusion, beauty andelegance of diction, and strength of expression, to which they had thatday listened. From poetry up to eloquence there was not a species ofcomposition of which a complete and perfect specimen might not have beenculled, from one part or the other of the speech to which he alluded, andwhich, he was persuaded, had left too strong an impression on the mindsof that House to be easily obliterated."

As some atonement to the world for the loss of the Speech in the House ofCommons, this second master-piece of eloquence on the same subject hasbeen preserved to us in a Report, from the short-hand notes of Mr.Gurney, which was for some time in the possession of the late Duke ofNorfolk, but was afterwards restored to Mr. Sheridan, and is now in myhands.

In order to enable the reader fully to understand the extracts from thisReport which I am about to give, it will be necessary to detail brieflythe history of the transaction, on which the charge brought forward inthe Speech was founded.

Among the native Princes who, on the transfer of the sceptre of Tamerlaneto the East India Company, became tributaries or rather slaves to thatHonorable body, none seems to have been treated with more capriciouscruelty than Cheyte Sing, the Rajah of Benares. In defiance of a solemntreaty, entered into between him and the government of Mr. Hastings, bywhich it was stipulated that, besides his fixed tribute, no furtherdemands, of any kind, should be made upon him, new exactions were everyyear enforced;—while the humble remonstrances of the Rajah against suchgross injustice were not only treated with slight, but punished byarbitrary and enormous fines. Even the proffer of bribe succeeded only inbeing accepted [Footnote: This was the transaction that formed one of theprincipal grounds of the Seventh Charge brought forward in the House ofCommons by Mr. Sheridan. The suspicious circ*mstances attending thispresent are thus summed up by Mr. Mill: "At first, perfect concealment ofthe transaction—such measures, however, taken as may, if afterwardsnecessary, appear to imply a design of future disclosure;—whenconcealment becomes difficult and hazardous, then disclosuremade."—History of British India.]—the exactions which it wasintended to avert being continued as rigorously as before. At length, inthe year 1781, Mr. Hastings, who invariably, among the objects of hisgovernment, placed the interests of Leadenhall Street first on the list,and those of justice and humanity longo intervallo after,—findingthe treasury of the Company in a very exhausted state, resolved tosacrifice this unlucky Rajah to their replenishment; and having as apreliminary step, imposed upon him a mulct of £500,000, set outimmediately for his capital, Benares, to compel the payment of it. Here,after rejecting with insult the suppliant advances of the Prince, he puthim under arrest, and imprisoned him in his own palace. This violation ofthe rights and the roof of their sovereign drove the people of the wholeprovince into a sudden burst of rebellion, of which Mr. Hastings himselfwas near being the victim. The usual triumph, however, of might overright ensued; the Rajah's castle was plundered of all its treasures, andhis mother, who had taken refuge in the fort, and only surrendered it onthe express stipulation that she and the other princesses should pass outsafe from the dishonor of search, was, in violation of this condition,and at the base suggestion of Mr. Hastings himself, [Footnote: In hisletter to the Commanding Officer at Bidgegur. The following are the termsin which he conveys the hint: "I apprehend that she will contrive todefraud the captors of a considerable part of the booty, by beingsuffered to retire without examination. But this is yourconsideration, and not mine. I should be very sorry that your officersand soldiers lost any part of the reward to which they are so wellentitled; but I cannot make any objection, as you must be the best judgeof the expediency of the promised indulgence to the Rannee."]rudely examined and despoiled of all her effects. The Governor-General,however, in this one instance, incurred the full odium of iniquitywithout reaping any of its reward. The treasures found in the castle ofthe Rajah were inconsiderable, and the soldiers, who had shown themselvesso docile in receiving the lessons of plunder, were found inflexiblyobstinate in refusing to admit their instructor to a share. Disappointed,therefore, in the primary object of his expedition, the Governor-Generallooked round for some richer harvest of rapine, and the Begums of Oudepresented themselves as the most convenient victims. These Princesses,the mother and grandmother of the reigning Nabob of Oude, had been leftby the late sovereign in possession of certain government-estates, orjaghires, as well as of all the treasure that was in his hands at thetime of his death, and which the orientalized imaginations of the Englishexaggerated to an enormous sum. The present Nabob had evidently lookedwith an eye of cupidity on this wealth, and had been guilty of some actsof extortion towards his female relatives, in consequence of which theEnglish government had interfered between them,—and had even guaranteedto the mother of the Nabob the safe possession of her property, withoutany further encroachment whatever. Guarantees and treaties, however, werebut cobwebs in the way of Mr. Hastings; and on his failure at Benares, helost no time in concluding an agreement with the Nabob, by which (inconsideration of certain measures of relief to his dominions) this Princewas 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 acolor of justice to this proceeding, it was [Footnote: "It was thepractice of Mr. Hastings (says Burke, in his fine speech on Mr. Pitt'sIndia Bill, March 22, 1786) to examine the country, and wherever he foundmoney to affix guilt. A more dreadful fault could not be alleged againsta native than that he was rich."] pretended that these Princesses hadtaken advantage of the late insurrection at Benares, to excite a similarspirit of revolt in Oude against the reigning Nabob and the Englishgovernment. As Law is but too often, in such cases, the ready accompliceof Tyranny, the services of the Chief Justice, Sir Elijah Impey, werecalled in to sustain the accusations; and the wretched mockery wasexhibited of a Judge travelling about in search of evidence, [Footnote:This journey of the Chief Justice in search of evidence is thus happilydescribed by Sheridan in the Speech:—"When, on the 28th of November, hewas busied at Lucknow on that honorable business, and when, three daysafter, he was found at Chunar, at the distance of 200 miles, stillsearching for affidavits, and, like Hamlet's ghost, exclaiming, 'Swear,'his progress on that occasion was so whimsically rapid, compared with thegravity of his employ, that an observer would be tempted to quote againfrom the same scene, 'Ha! Old Truepenny, canst thou mole so fast i' theground?' Here, however, the comparison ceased; for, when Sir Elijah madehis visit to Lucknow 'to whet the almost blunted purpose' of the Nabob,his language was wholly different from that of the poet—for it wouldhave been totally against his purpose to have said,

Taint not thy mind, nor let thy soul contrive
Against thy mother aught."] for the express purpose of proving a
charge, upon which judgment had been pronounced and punishment decreed
already.

The Nabob himself, though sufficiently ready to make the wealth of thosevenerable ladies occasionally minister to his wants, yet shrunk back,with natural reluctance, from the summary task now imposed upon him; andit was not till after repeated and peremptory remonstrances from Mr.Hastings, that he could be induced to put himself at the head of a bodyof English troops, and take possession, by unresisted force, of the townand palace of these Princesses. As the treasure, however, was stillsecure in the apartments of the women,—that circle, within which even thespirit of English rapine did not venture,—an expedient was adopted toget over this inconvenient delicacy. Two aged eunuchs of high rank anddistinction, the confidential agents of the Begums, were thrown intoprison, and subjected to a course of starvation and torture, by which itwas hoped that the feelings of their mistresses might be worked upon, anda more speedy surrender of their treasure wrung from them. The plansucceeded:—upwards of 500,000_l_. was procured to recruit thefinances of the Company; and thus, according to the usual course ofBritish power in India, rapacity but levied its contributions in onequarter, to enable war to pursue its desolating career in another.

To crown all, one of the chief articles of the treaty, by which the Nabobwas reluctantly induced to concur in these atrocious measures, was, assoon as the object had been gained, infringed by Mr. Hastings, who, in aletter to his colleagues in the government, honestly confesses that theconcession of that article was only a fraudulent artifice of diplomacy,and never intended to be carried into effect.

Such is an outline of the case, which, with all its aggravating details,Mr. Sheridan had to state in these two memorable Speeches; and it wascertainly most fortunate for the display of his peculiar powers, thatthis should be the Charge confided to his management. For, not only wasit the strongest, and susceptible of the highest charge of coloring, butit had also the advantage of grouping together all the principaldelinquents of the trial, and affording a gradation of hue, from theshowy and prominent enormities of the Governor-General and Sir ElijahImpey in the front of the picture, to the subordinate and half-tintiniquity of the Middletons and Bristows in the back-ground.

Mr. Burke, it appears, had at first reserved this grand part in the dramaof the Impeachment for himself; but, finding that Sheridan had also fixedhis mind upon it, he, without hesitation, resigned it into his hands;thus proving the sincerity of his zeal in the cause, [Footnote: Of thelengths to which this zeal could sometimes carry his fancy and language,rather, perhaps, than his actual feelings, the following anecdote is aremarkable proof. On one of the days of the trial, Lord ——, who wasthen 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 gladderto see you there—(pointing to the Peers' seats) I hope you will be inat the death—I should like to blood you."] by sacrificingeven the vanity of talent to its success.

The following letters from him, relative to the Impeachment, will be readwith interest. The first is addressed to Mrs. Sheridan, and was written,I think, early in the proceedings; the second is to Sheridan himself:—

"MADAM,

"I am sure you will have the goodness to excuse the liberty I take withyou, when you consider the interest which I have and which the Publichave (the said Public being, at least, half an inch a taller person thanI am) in the use of Mr. Sheridan's abilities. I know that his mind isseldom unemployed; but then, like all such great and vigorous minds, ittakes an eagle flight by itself, and we can hardly bring it to rustlealong the ground, with us birds of meaner wing, in coveys. I only begthat you will prevail on Mr. Sheridan to be with us this day, athalf after three, in the Committee. Mr. Wombell, the Paymaster of Oude,is to be examined there to-day. Oude is Mr. Sheridan's particularprovince; and I do most seriously ask that he would favor us with hisassistance. What will come of the examination I know not; but, withouthim, I do not expect a great deal from it; with him, I fancy we may getout something material. Once more let me entreat your interest with Mr.Sheridan and your forgiveness for being troublesome to you, and do me thejustice 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 accountof a momentary ill-humor, to keep himself at a distance from you.

"Well, all will turn out right,—and half of you, or a quarter, is worthfive other men. I think that this cause, which was originally yours, willbe recognized by you, and that you will again possess yourself of it. Theowner's mark is on it, and all our docking and cropping cannot hinder itsbeing known and cherished by its original master. My most humble respectsto Mrs. Sheridan. I am happy to find that she takes in good part theliberty I presumed to take with her. Grey has done much and will do everything. It is a pity that he is not always toned to the full extent of histalents.

"Most truly yours,

"Monday.

"EDM. BURKE.

"I feel a little sickish at the approaching day. I have read much—toomuch, perhaps,—and, in truth, am but poorly prepared. Many things, too,have broken in upon me." [Footnote: For this letter, as well as someother valuable communications, I am indebted to the kindness of Mr.Burgess,—the Solicitor and friend of Sheridan during the last twentyyears of his life.]

Though a Report, however accurate, must always do injustice to thateffective kind of oratory which is intended rather to be heard than read,and, though frequently, the passages that most roused and interested thehearer, are those that seem afterwards the tritest and least animated tothe reader, [Footnote: The converse assertion is almost equally true. Mr.Fox used to ask of a printed speech, "Does it read well?" and, ifanswered in the affirmative, said, "Then it was a bad speech."] yet, withall this disadvantage, the celebrated oration in question so wellsustains its reputation in the perusal, that it would be injustice,having an authentic Report in my possession, not to produce somespecimens of its style and spirit.

In the course of his exordium, after dwelling upon the great importanceof the inquiry in which they were engaged, and disclaiming for himselfand his brother-managers any feeling of personal malice against thedefendant, or any motive but that of retrieving the honor of the Britishname in India, and bringing down punishment upon those whose inhumanityand injustice had disgraced it,—he thus proceeds to conciliate the Courtby a warm tribute to the purity of English justice:—

"However, when I have said this, I trust Your Lordships will not believethat, because something is necessary to retrieve the British character,we call for an example to be made, without due and solid proof of theguilt of the person whom we pursue:—no, my Lords, we know well that itis the glory of this Constitution, that not the general fame or characterof any man—not the weight or power of any prosecutor—no plea of moralor political expediencey—not even the secret consciousness of guilt,which may live in the bosom of the Judge, can justify any British Courtin passing any sentence, to touch a hair of the head, or an atom in anyrespect, of the property, of the fame, of the liberty of the poorest ormeanest subject that breathes the air of this just and free land. Weknow, my Lords, that there can be no legal guilt without legal proof, andthat the rule which defines the evidence is as much the law of the landas that which creates the crime. It is upon that ground we mean to stand."

Among those ready equivocations and disavowals, to which Mr. Hastings hadrecourse upon every emergency, and in which practice seems to haverendered him as shameless as expert, the step which he took with regardto his own defence during the trial was not the least remarkable forpromptness and audacity. He had, at the commencement of the prosecution,delivered at the bar of the House of Commons, as his own, a writtenrefutation of the charges then pending against him in that House,declaring at the same time, that "if truth could tend to convict him, hewas content to be, himself, the channel to convey it." Afterwards,however, on finding that he had committed himself rather imprudently inthis defence, he came forward to disclaim it at the bar of the House ofLords, and brought his friend Major Scott to prove that it had been drawnup by Messrs. Shore, Middleton, &c. &c.—that he himself had not evenseen it, and therefore ought not to be held accountable for its contents.In adverting to this extraordinary evasion, Mr. Sheridan thus shrewdlyand playfully exposes all the persons concerned in it:—

"Major Scott comes to your bar—describes the shortness oftime—represents Mr. Hastings as it were contracting for acharacter—putting his memory into commission—makingdepartments for his conscience. A number of friends meet together,and he, knowing (no doubt) that the accusation of the Commons had beendrawn up by a Committee, thought it necessary, as a point of punctilio,to answer it by a Committee also. One furnishes the raw material of fact,the second spins the argument, and the third twines up the conclusion;while Mr. Hastings, with a master's eye, is cheering and looking overthis loom. He says to one, 'You have got my good faith in yourhands—you, my veracity to manage. Mr. Shore, I hope you will makeme a good financier—Mr. Middleton, you have my humanity incommission.'—When it is done, he brings it to the House of Commons, andsays, 'I was equal to the task. I knew the difficulties, but I scornthem: here is the truth, and if the truth will convict me, I am contentmyself to be the channel of it.' His friends hold up their heads, andsay, 'What noble magnanimity! This must be the effect of conscious andreal innocence.' Well, it is so received, it is so argued upon,—but itfails of its effect.

"Then says Mr. Hastings,—'That my defence! no, merejourneyman-work,—good enough for the Commons, but not fit for YourLordships' consideration.' He then calls upon his Counsel to savehim:—'I fear none of my accusers' witnesses—I know some of them well—Iknow the weakness of their memory, and the strength of theirattachment—I fear no testimony but my own—save me from the peril of myown panegyric—preserve me from that, and I shall be safe.' Then is thisplea brought to Your Lordships' bar, and Major Scott gravelyasserts,—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 hadnever read.

"After such an attempt, we certainly are left in doubt to decide, towhich set of his friends Mr. Hastings is least obliged, those whoassisted 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 tothe unapproachable sanctity of their Zenanas:—

"It is too much, I am afraid, the case, that persons, used to Europeanmanners, do not take up these sort of considerations at first with theseriousness that is necessary. For Your Lordships cannot even learn theright nature of those people's feelings and prejudices from any historyof other Mahometan countries,—not even from that of the Turks, for theyare a mean and degraded race in comparison with many of these greatfamilies, who, inheriting from their Persian ancestors, preserve a purerstyle of prejudice and a loftier superstition. Women there are not as inTurkey—they neither go to the mosque nor to the bath—it is not the thinveil alone that hides them—but in the inmost recesses of their Zenanathey are kept from public view by those reverenced and protected walls,which, as Mr. Hastings and Sir Elijah Impey admit, are held sacred evenby 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 selfishpolicy of man—not from a coarse and sensual jealousy—enshrined ratherthan immured, their habitation and retreat is a sanctuary, not aprison—their jealousy is their own—a jealousy of their own honor, thatleads them to regard liberty as a degradation, and the gaze of evenadmiring eyes as inexpiable pollution to the purity of their fame and thesanctity of their honor.

"Such being the general opinion (or prejudices, let them be called) ofthis country, Your Lordships will find, that whatever treasures weregiven or lodged in a Zenana of this description must, upon the evidenceof the thing itself, be placed beyond the reach of resumption. To disputewith the Counsel about the original right to those treasures—to talk ofa title to them by the Mahometan law!—their title to them is the titleof a Saint to the relics upon an altar, placed there by Piety, [Footnote:This metaphor was rather roughly handled afterwards (1794) by Mr. Law,one of the adverse Counsel, who asked, how could the Begum be consideredas "a Saint," or how were the camels, which formed part of the treasure,to be "placed upon the altar?" Sheridan, in reply, said, "It was thefirst time in his life he had ever heard of special pleading on ametaphor, or a bill of indictment against a trope. But suchwas the turn of the learned Counsel's mind, that, when he attempted to behumorous, no jest could be found, and, when serious, no fact wasvisible."] guarded by holy Superstition, and to be snatched from thenceonly by Sacrilege."

In showing that the Nabob was driven to this robbery of his relatives byother considerations than those of the pretended rebellion, which wasafterwards conjured up by Mr. Hastings to justify it, he says,—

"The fact is, that through all his defences—through all his variousfalse suggestions—through all these various rebellions anddisaffections, Mr. Hastings never once lets go this plea—ofextinguishable right in the Nabob. He constantly represents the seizingthe treasures as a resumption of a right which he could not partwith;—as if there were literally something in the Koran, that made itcriminal in a true Mussulman to keep his engagements with his relations,and impious in a son to abstain from plundering his mother. I do gravelyassure your Lordships that there is no such doctrine in the Koran, and nosuch principle makes a part in the civil or municipal jurisprudence ofthat country. Even after these Princesses had been endeavoring todethrone the Nabob and to extirpate the English, the only plea the Nabobever makes, is his right under the Mahometan law; and the truth is, heappears never to have heard any other reason, and I pledge myself to makeit appear to Your Lordships, however extraordinary it may be, that notonly had the Nabob never heard of the rebellion till the moment ofseizing the palace, but, still further, that he never heard of it atall—that this extraordinary rebellion, which was as notorious as therebellion of 1745 in London, was carefully concealed from those twoparties—the Begums who plotted it, and the Nabob who was to be thevictim of it.

"The existence of this rebellion was not the secret, but the notoriety ofit was the secret; it was a rebellion which had for its object thedestruction of no human creature but those who planned it;—it was arebellion which, according to Mr. Middleton's expression, no man, eitherhorse or foot, ever marched to quell. The Chief Justice was the only manwho took the field against it,—the force against which it was raised,instantly withdrew to give it elbow-room,—and, even then, it was arebellion which perversely showed itself in acts of hospitality to theNabob whom it was to dethrone, and to the English whom it was toextirpate;—it was a rebellion plotted by two feeble old women, headed bytwo eunuchs, and suppressed by an affidavit."

The acceptance, or rather exaction, of the private present of £100,000 isthus animadverted upon:

"My Lords, such was the distressed situation of the Nabob about atwelvemonth before Mr. Hastings met him at Chunar. It was a twelvemonth,I say, after this miserable scene—a mighty period in the progress ofBritish rapacity—it was (if the Counsel will) after some naturalcalamities had aided the superior vigor of British violence andrapacity—it was after the country had felt other calamities besides theEnglish—it was after the angry dispensations of Providence had, with aprogressive severity of chastisem*nt, visited the land with a famine oneyear, and with a Col. Hannay the next—it was after he, this Hannay, hadreturned to retrace the steps of his former ravages—it was after he andhis voracious crew had come to plunder ruins which himself had made, andto glean from desolation the little that famine had spared, or rapineoverlooked;—then it was that this miserable bankrupt princemarching through his country, besieged by the clamors of his starvingsubjects, who cried to him for protection through their cages—meetingthe curses of some of his subjects, and the prayers of others—withfamine at his heels, and reproach following him,—then it was that thisPrince is represented as exercising this act of prodigal bounty to thevery man whom he here reproaches—to the very man whose policy hadextinguished his power, and whose creatures had desolated his country. Totalk of a free-will gift! it is audacious and ridiculous to name thesupposition. It was not a free-will gift. What was it then? was ita bribe? or was it extortion? I shall prove it was both—it was an act ofgross 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 therelief of the distressed Nabob. The second thing, is to take 100,000_l_from that distressed Nabob on account of the distressed Company. And thethird thing is to ask of the distressed Company this very same sum onaccount of the distresses of Mr. Hastings. There never were threedistresses that seemed so little reconcilable with one another."

Anticipating the plea of state-necessity, which might possibly be set upin defence of the measures of the Governor-General, he breaks out intothe following rhetorical passage:—

"State necessity! no, my Lords; that imperial tyrant, StateNecessity, is yet a generous despot,—bold is his demeanor, rapid hisdecisions, and terrible his grasp. But what he does, my Lords, he daresavow, and avowing, scorns any other justification, than the great motivesthat placed the iron sceptre in his hand. But a quibbling, pilfering,prevaricating State-Necessity, that tries to skulk behind the skirts ofJustice;—a State-Necessity that tries to steal a pitiful justificationfrom whispered accusations and fabricated rumors. No, my Lords, that isno State Necessity;—tear off the mask, and you see coarse, vulgaravarice,—you see speculation, lurking under the gaudy disguise, andadding the guilt of libelling the public honor to its own private fraud.

"My Lords, I say this, because I am sure the Managers would make everyallowance that state-necessity could claim upon any great emergency. Ifany great man in bearing the arms of this country;—if any Admiral,bearing the vengeance and the glory of Britain to distant coasts, shouldbe compelled to some rash acts of violence, in order, perhaps, to givefood to those who are shedding their blood for Britain;—if any greatGeneral, defending some fortress, barren itself, perhaps, but a pledge ofthe pride, and, with the pride, of the power of Britain; if such a manwere to * * * while he himself was * * at the top, like an eagle besiegedin its imperial nest; [Footnote: The Reporter, at many of these passages,seems to have thrown aside his pen in despair.]—would the Commons ofEngland come to accuse or to arraign such acts of state-necessity? No."

In describing that swarm of English pensioners and placemen, who werestill, in violation of the late purchased treaty, left to prey on thefinances of the Nabob, he says,—

"Here we find they were left, as heavy a weight upon the Nabob asever,—left there with as keen an appetite, though not so clamorous. Theywere reclining on the roots and shades of that spacious tree, which theirpredecessors had stripped branch and bough—watching with eager eyes thefirst budding of a future prosperity, and of the opening harvest whichthey considered as the prey of their perseverance and rapacity."

We have in the close of the following passage, a specimen of that loftystyle, in which, as if under the influence of Eastern associations,almost all the Managers of this Trial occasionally indulged: [Footnote:Much of this, however, is to be set down to the gratuitous bombast of theReporter. Mr. Fox, for instance, is made to say, "Yes, my Lords, happy isit for the world, that the penetrating gaze of Providence searches afterman, and in the dark den where he has stifled the remonstrances ofconscience darts his compulsatory ray, that, bursting the secrecy ofguilt, drives the criminal frantic to confession and expiation."History of the Trial.—Even one of the Counsel, Mr. Dallas, isrepresented as having caught this Oriental contagion, to such a degree asto express himself in the following manner:—"We are now, however, (saidthe Counsel,) advancing from the star-light of Circ*mstance to theday-light of Discovery: the sun of Certainty is melting the darkness,and—we are arrived at facts admitted by both parties!"]—

"I do not mean to say that Mr. Middleton had direct instructionsfrom Mr. Hastings,—that he told him to go and give that fallaciousassurance to the Nabob,—that he had that order under his hand.No, but in looking attentively over Mr. Middleton's correspondence, youwill find him say, upon a more important occasion, 'I don't expect yourpublic authority for this;—it is enough if you but hint yourpleasure.' He knew him well; he could interpret every nod and motion ofthat head; he understood the glances of that eye which sealed theperdition of nations, and at whose throne Princes waited, in paleexpectation, for their fortune or their doom."

The following is one of those labored passages, of which the oratorhimself was perhaps most proud, but in which the effort to be eloquent istoo visible, and the effect, accordingly, falls short of the pretension:—

"You see how Truth—empowered by that will which gives a giant's nerve toan infant's arm—has burst the monstrous mass of fraud that hasendeavored to suppress it.—It calls now to Your Lordships, in the weakbut clear tone of that Cherub, Innocence, whose voice is more persuasivethan eloquence, more convincing than argument, whose look issupplication, whose tone is conviction,—it calls upon you for redress,it calls upon you for vengeance upon the oppressor, and points itsheaven-directed hand to the detested, but unrepenting author of itswrongs!"

His description of the desolation brought upon some provinces of Oude bythe misgovernment of Colonel Hannay, and of the insurrection atGoruckpore against that officer in consequence, is, perhaps, the mostmasterly portion of the whole speech:—

"If we could suppose a person to have come suddenly into the countryunacquainted with any circ*mstances that had passed since the days ofSujah ul Dowlah, he would naturally ask—what cruel hand has wrought thiswide desolation, what barbarian foe has invaded the country, hasdesolated its fields, depopulated its villages? He would ask, whatdisputed succession, civil rage, or frenzy of the inhabitants, hadinduced them to act in hostility to the words of God, and the beauteousworks of man? He would ask what religious zeal or frenzy had added to themad despair and horrors of war? The ruin is unlike any thing that appearsrecorded in any age; it looks like neither the barbarities of men, northe judgments of vindictive heaven. There is a waste of desolation, as ifcaused by fell destroyers, never meaning to return and making but a shortperiod of their rapacity. It looks as if some fabled monster had made itspassage through the country, whose pestiferous breath had blasted morethan its voracious appetite could devour."

"If there had been any men in the country, who had not their hearts andsouls so subdued by fear, as to refuse to speak the truth at all uponsuch a subject, they would have told him, there had been no war since thetime of Sujah ul Dowlah,—tyrant, indeed, as he was, but then deeplyregretted by his subjects—that no hostile blow of any enemy had beenstruck in that land—that there had been no disputed succession—no civilwar—no religious frenzy. But that these were the tokens of Britishfriendship, the marks left by the embraces of British allies—moredreadful than the blows of the bitterest enemy. They would tell him thatthese allies had converted a prince into a slave, to make him theprincipal in the extortion upon his subjects;—that their rapacityincreased in proportion as the means of supplying their avaricediminished; that they made the sovereign pay as if they had a right to anincreased price, because the labor of extortion and plunder increased. Tosuch causes, they would tell him, these calamities were owing.

"Need I refer Your Lordships to the strong testimony of Major Naylor whenhe rescued Colonel Hannay from their hands—where you see that thispeople, born to submission and bent to most abject subjection—that eventhey, in whose meek hearts injury had never yet begot resentment, noreven despair bred courage—that their hatred, theirabhorrence of Colonel Hannay was such that they clung round him bythousands and thousands;—that when Major Naylor rescued him, theyrefused life from the hand that could rescue Hannay;—that they nourishedthis desperate consolation, that by their death they should at least thinthe number of wretches who suffered by his devastation and extortion. Hesays that, when he crossed the river, he found the poor wretchesquivering upon the parched banks of the polluted river, encouraging theirblood to flow, and consoling themselves with the thought, that it wouldnot sink into the earth, but rise to the common God of humanity, and cryaloud for vengeance on their destroyers!—This warm description—which isno declamation of mine, but founded in actual fact, and in fair, clearproof before Your Lordships—speaks powerfully what the cause of theseoppressions were, and the perfect justness of those feelings that wereoccasioned by them. And yet, my Lords, I am asked to prove whythese people arose in such concert:—'there must have been machinations,forsooth, and the Begums' machinations, to produce all this!'—Why didthey rise!—Because they were people in human shape; because patienceunder the detested tyranny of man is rebellion to the sovereignty of God;because allegiance to that Power that gives us the forms of mencommands us to maintain the rights of men. And never yet was thistruth dismissed from the human heart—never in any time, in anyage—never in any clime, where rude man ever had any social feeling, orwhere corrupt refinement had subdued all feelings,—never was this oneunextinguishable truth destroyed from the heart of man, placed, as it is,in the core and centre of it by his Maker, that man was not made theproperty of man; that human power is a trust for human benefit and thatwhen it is abused, revenge becomes justice, if not the bounden duty ofthe injured! These, my Lords, were the causes why these people rose."

Another passage in the second day's speech is remarkable, as exhibiting asort of tourney of intellect between Sheridan and Burke, and in thatfield of abstract speculation, which was the favorite arena of thelatter. Mr. Burke had, in opening the prosecution, remarked, thatprudence is a quality incompatible with vice, and can never beeffectively enlisted in its cause:—"I never (said he) knew a man who wasbad, fit for service that was good. There is always somedisqualifying ingredient, mixing and spoiling the compound. The man seemsparalytic on that side, his muscles there have lost their very tone andcharacter—they cannot move. In short, the accomplishment of any thinggood is a physical impossibility for such a man. There is decrepitude aswell as distortion: he could not, if he would, is not more certain thanthat he would not, if he could." To this sentiment the allusions in thefollowing passage refer:—

"I am perfectly convinced that there is one idea, which must arise inYour Lordships' minds as a subject of wonder,—how a person of Mr.Hastings' reputed abilities can furnish such matter of accusation againsthimself. For, it must be admitted that never was there a person who seemsto go so rashly to work, with such an arrogant appearance of contempt forall conclusions, that may be deduced from what he advances upon thesubject. When he seems most earnest and laborious to defend himself, itappears as if he had but one idea uppermost in his mind—a determinationnot to care what he says, provided he keeps clear of fact. He knows thattruth must convict him, and concludes, à converso, that falsehoodwill acquit him; forgetting that there must be some connection, somesystem, some co-operation, or, otherwise, his host of falsities fallwithout an enemy, self-discomfited and destroyed. But of this he neverseems to have had the slightest apprehension. He falls to work, anartificer of fraud, against all the rules of architecture;—he lays hisornamental work first, and his massy foundation at the top of it; andthus his whole building tumbles upon his head. Other people look well totheir ground, choose their position, and watch whether they are likely tobe surprised there; but he, as if in the ostentation of his heart, buildsupon a precipice, and encamps upon a mine, from choice. He seems to haveno one actuating principle, but a steady, persevering resolution not tospeak the truth or to tell the fact.

"It is impossible almost to treat conduct of this kind with perfectseriousness; yet I am aware that it ought to be more seriously accountedfor—because I am sure it has been a sort of paradox, which must havestruck Your Lordships, how any person having so many motives toconceal—having so many reasons to dread detection—should yet go to workso clumsily upon the subject. It is possible, indeed, that it may raisethis doubt—whether such a person is of sound mind enough to be a properobject 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 athin veil was thrown, and so little trouble taken to avoid detection. Iam aware that, to account for this seeming paradox, historians, poets,and even philosophers—at least of ancient times—have adopted thesuperstitious solution of the vulgar, and said that the gods deprive menof reason whom they devote to destruction or to punishment. But tounassuming or unprejudiced reason, there is no need to resort to anysupposed supernatural interference; for the solution will be found in theeternal rules that formed the mind of man, and gave a quality and natureto every passion that inhabits in it.

"An Honorable friend of mine, who is now, I believe, near me,—agentleman, to whom I never can on any occasion refer without feelings ofrespect, and, on this subject, without feelings of the most gratefulhomage;—a gentleman, whose abilities upon this occasion, as upon someformer ones, happily for the glory of the age in which we live, are notentrusted merely to the perishable eloquence of the day, but will live tobe the admiration of that hour when all of us are mute, and most of usforgotten;—that Honorable gentleman has told you that Prudence, thefirst of virtues, never can be used in the cause of vice. If, reluctantand diffident, I might take such a liberty, I should express a doubt,whether experience, observation, or history, will warrant us in fullyassenting to this observation. It is a noble and a lovely sentiment, myLords, worthy the mind of him who uttered it, worthy that proud disdain,that generous scorn of the means and instruments of vice, which virtueand genius must ever feel. But I should doubt whether we can read thehistory of a Philip of Macedon, a Caesar, or a Cromwell, withoutconfessing, that there have been evil purposes, baneful to the peace andto the rights of men, conducted—if I may not say, with prudence or withwisdom—yet with awful craft and most successful and commanding subtlety.If, however, I might make a distinction, I should say that it is theproud attempt to mix a variety of lordly crimes, that unsettlesthe prudence of the mind, and breeds this distraction of the brain.

"One master-passion, domineering in the breast, may win thefaculties of the understanding to advance its purpose, and to direct tothat object every thing that thought or human knowledge can effect; but,to succeed, it must maintain a solitary despotism in the mind;—eachrival profligacy must stand aloof, or wait in abject vassalage upon itsthrone. For, the Power, that has not forbad the entrance of evil passionsinto man's mind, has, at least, forbad their union;—if they meet theydefeat their object, and their conquest, or their attempt at it, istumult. Turn to the Virtues—how different the decree! Formed to connect,to blend, to associate, and to cooperate; bearing the same course, withkindred energies and harmonious sympathy, each perfect in its own lovelysphere, each moving in its wider or more contracted orbit, withdifferent, but concentering, powers, guided by the same influence ofreason, and endeavoring at the same blessed end—the happiness of theindividual, the harmony of the species, and the glory of the Creator. Inthe Vices, on the other hand, it is the discord that insures thedefeat—each clamors to be heard in its own barbarous language; eachclaims the exclusive cunning of the brain; each thwarts and reproachesthe other; and even while their fell rage assails with common hate thepeace and virtue of the world, the civil war among their own tumultuouslegions defeats the purpose of the foul conspiracy. These are the Furiesof the mind, my Lords, that unsettle the understanding; these are theFuries, that destroy the virtue, Prudence,—while the distracted brainand shivered intellect proclaim the tumult that is within, and bear theirtestimonies, from the mouth of God himself, to the foul condition of theheart."

The part of the Speech which occupied the Third Day (and which wasinterrupted by the sudden indisposition of Mr. Sheridan) consists chieflyof comments upon the affidavits taken before Sir Elijah Impey,—in whichthe irrelevance and inconsistency of these documents is shrewdly exposed,and the dryness of detail, inseparable from such a task, enlivened bythose light touches of conversational humor, and all that by-play ofeloquence of which Mr. Sheridan was such a consummate master. But it wason the Fourth Day of the oration that he rose into his most ambitiousflights, and produced some of those dazzling bursts of declamation, ofwhich the traditional fame is most vividly preserved. Among the audienceof that day was Gibbon, and the mention of his name in the followingpassage not only produced its effect at the moment, but, as connectedwith literary anecdote, will make the passage itself long memorable.Politics are of the day, but literature is of all time—and, though itwas in the power of the orator, in his brief moment of triumph, to throwa lustre over the historian by a passing epithet, [Footnote: Gibbonhimself thought it an event worthy of record in his Memoirs. "Before mydeparture from England (he says) I was present at the august spectacle ofMr. Hastings's Trial in Westminster Hall. It was not my province toabsolve or condemn the Governor of India, but Mr. Sheridan's eloquencedemanded my applause, nor could I hear without emotion the personalcompliment which he paid me in the presence of the British nation. Fromthis display of genius, which blazed four successive days," &c &c.] thename of the latter will, at the long run, pay back the honor withinterest. Having reprobated the violence and perfidy of theGovernor-General, in forcing the Nabob to plunder his own relatives andfriends, he adds:—

"I do say, that if you search the history of the world, you will not findan act of tyranny and fraud to surpass this; if you read all pasthistories, peruse the Annals of Tacitus, read the luminous page ofGibbon, and all the ancient and modern writers, that have searched intothe depravity of former ages to draw a lesson for the present, you willnot find an act of treacherous, deliberate, cool cruelty that couldexceed this."

On being asked by some honest brother Whig, at the conclusion of the
Speech, how he came to compliment Gibbon with the epithet "luminous,"
Sheridan answered in a half whisper, "I said '_vo_luminous.'"

It is well known that the simile of the vulture and the lamb, whichoccurs in the address of Rolla to the Peruvians, had been previouslyemployed by Mr. Sheridan, in this speech; and it showed a degree ofindifference to criticism,—which criticism, it must be owned, notunfrequently deserves,—to reproduce before the public an image, sonotorious both from its application and its success. But, called upon, ashe was, to levy, for the use of that Drama, a hasty conscription ofphrases and images, all of a certain altitude and pomp, this veteransimile, he thought, might be pressed into the service among the rest. Thepassage of the Speech in which it occurs is left imperfect in theReport:—

"This is the character of all the protection ever afforded to the alliesof Britain under the government of Mr. Hastings. They send their troopsto drain the produce of industry, to seize all the treasures, wealth, andprosperity of the country, and then they call it Protection!—it is theprotection of the vulture to the lamb. * * *"

The following is his celebrated delineation of Filial Affection, to whichreference is more frequently made than to any other part of theSpeech;—though the gross inaccuracy of the printed Report has done itsutmost to belie the reputation of the original passage, or rather hassubstituted a changeling to inherit its fame.

"When I see in many of these letters the infirmities of age made asubject of mockery and ridicule; when I see the feelings of a son treatedby Mr. Middleton as puerile and contemptible; when I see an order givenby Mr. Hastings to harden that son's heart, to choke the strugglingnature in his bosom; when I see them pointing to the son's name, and tohis standard while marching to oppress the mother, as to a banner thatgives dignity, that gives a holy sanction and a reverence to theirenterprise; when I see and hear these things done—when I hear thembrought into three deliberate Defences set up against the Charges of theCommons—my Lords, I own I grow puzzled and confounded, and almost beginto doubt whether, where such a defence can be offered, it may not betolerated.

"And yet, my Lords, how can I support the claim of filial love byargument—much less the affection of a son to a mother—where love losesits awe, and veneration is mixed with tenderness? What can I say uponsuch a subject, what can I do but repeat the ready truths which, with thequick impulse of the mind, must spring to the lips of every man on such atheme? Filial love! the morality of instinct, the sacrament of nature andduty—or rather let me say it is miscalled a duty, for it flows from theheart without effort, and is its delight, its indulgence, its enjoyment.It is guided, not by the slow dictates of reason; it awaits notencouragement from reflection or from thought; it asks no aid of memory;it is an innate, but active, consciousness of having been the object of athousand tender solicitudes, a thousand waking watchful cares, of meekanxiety and patient sacrifices unremarked and unrequited by the object.It is a gratitude founded upon a conviction of obligations, notremembered, but the more binding because not remembered,—becauseconferred before the tender reason could acknowledge, or the infantmemory record them—a gratitude and affection, which no circ*mstancesshould subdue, and which few can strengthen; a gratitude, in which eveninjury from the object, though it may blend regret, should never breedresentment; an affection which can be increased only by the decay ofthose to whom we owe it, and which is then most fervent when thetremulous voice of age, resistless in its feebleness, inquires for thenatural protector of its cold decline.

"If these are the general sentiments of man, what must be theirdepravity, what must be their degeneracy, who can blot out and erase fromthe bosom the virtue that is deepest rooted in the human heart, andtwined within the cords of life itself—aliens from nature, apostatesfrom humanity! And yet, if there is a crime more fell, more foul—ifthere is any thing worse than a wilful persecutor of his mother—it is tosee a deliberate, reasoning instigator and abettor to the deed:—this itis that shocks, disgusts, and appals the mind more than the other—toview, not a wilful parricide, but a parricide by compulsion, a miserablewretch, not actuated by the stubborn evils of his own worthless heart,not driven by the fury of his own distracted brain, but lending hissacrilegious hand, without any malice of his own, to answer the abandonedpurposes of the human fiends that have subdued his will!—To condemncrimes like these, we need not talk of laws or of human rules—theirfoulness, their deformity does not depend upon local constitutions, uponhuman institutes or religious creeds:—they are crimes—and the personswho perpetrate them are monsters who violate the primitive condition,upon which the earth was given to man—they are guilty by the generalverdict of human kind."

In some of the sarcasms we are reminded of the quaint contrasts of hisdramatic style. Thus:—

"I must also do credit to them whenever I see any thing like lenity inMr. Middleton or his agent:—they do seem to admit here, that it was notworth while to commit a massacre for the discount of a small note ofhand, and to put two thousand women and children to death, in order toprocure prompt payment."

Of the length to which the language of crimination was carried, as wellby Mr. Sheridan as by Mr. Burke, one example, out of many, will suffice.It cannot fail, however, to be remarked that, while the denunciations andinvectives of Burke are filled throughout with a passionate earnestness,which leaves no doubt as to the sincerity of the hate and anger professedby him,—in Sheridan, whose nature was of a much gentler cast, thevehemence is evidently more in the words than in the feeling, the tone ofindignation is theatrical and assumed, and the brightness of the flashseems to be more considered than the destructiveness of the fire:—

"It is this circ*mstance of deliberation and consciousness of hisguilt—it is this that inflames the minds of those who watch histransactions, and roots out all pity for a person who could act undersuch an influence. We conceive of such tyrants as Caligula and Nero, bredup to tyranny and oppression, having had no equals to control them—nomoment for reflection—we conceive that, if it could have been possibleto seize the guilty profligates for a moment, you might bring convictionto their hearts and repentance to their minds. But when you see a cool,reasoning, deliberate tyrant—one who was not born and bred toarrogance,—who has been nursed in a mercantile line—who has been usedto look round among his fellow-subjects—to transact business with hisequals—to account for conduct to his master, and, by that wise system ofthe Company, to detail all his transactions—who never could fly onemoment from himself, but must be obliged every night to sit down and holdup 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 toapprove of it—this it is that distinguishes it from the worstcruelties, the worst enormities of those, who, born to tyranny, andfinding no superior, no adviser, have gone to the last presumption thatthere were none above to control them hereafter. This is a circ*mstancethat aggravates the whole of the guilt of the unfortunate gentleman weare now arraigning at your bar."

We now come to the Peroration, in which, skilfully and without appearanceof design, it is contrived that the same sort of appeal to the purity ofBritish justice, with which the oration opened, should, like therepetition of a solemn strain of music, recur at its close,—leaving inthe minds of the Judges a composed and concentrated feeling of the greatpublic duty they had to perform, in deciding upon the arraignment ofguilt brought before them. The Court of Directors, it appeared, hadordered an inquiry into the conduct of the Begums, with a view to therestitution of their property, if it should appear that the chargesagainst them were unfounded; but to this proceeding Mr. Hastingsobjected, on the ground that the Begums themselves had not called forsuch interference in their favor, and that it was inconsistent with the"Majesty of Justice" to condescend to volunteer her services. The pompousand Jesuitical style in which this singular doctrine [Footnote: "Ifnothing (says Mr. Mill) remained to stain the reputation of Mr. Hastingsbut the principles avowed in this singular pleading, his character, amongthe friends of justice, would be sufficiently determined."] is expressed,in a letter addressed by the Governor-general to Mr. Macpherson, is thusingeniously turned to account by the orator, in winding up his masterlystatement to a close:—

'And now before I come to the last magnificent paragraph, let me call theattention of those who, possibly, think themselves capable of judging ofthe dignity and character of justice in this country;—let me call theattention of those who, arrogantly perhaps, presume that they understandwhat the features, what the duties of justice are here and in India;—letthem learn a lesson from this great statesman, this enlarged, thisliberal philosopher:—'I hope I shall not depart from the simplicity ofofficial language, in saying that the Majesty of Justice ought to beapproached with solicitation, not descend to provoke or invite it, muchless to debase itself by the suggestion of wrongs and the promise ofredress, with the denunciation of punishment before trial, and evenbefore accusation.' This is the exhortation which Mr. Hastings makes tohis counsel. This is the character which he gives of British justice.

* * * * *

"But I will ask Your Lordships, do you approve this representation? Doyou feel that this is the true image of Justice? Is this the character ofBritish justice? Are these her features? Is this her countenance? Is thisher gait or her mien? No, I think even now I hear you calling upon me toturn from this vile libel, this base caricature, this Indian pagod,formed by the hand of guilty and knavish tyranny, to dupe the heart ofignorance,—to turn from this deformed idol to the true Majesty ofJustice here. Here, indeed, I see a different form, enthroned bythe sovereign hand of Freedom,—awful without severity—commandingwithout pride—vigilant and active without restlessness orsuspicion—searching and inquisitive without meanness or debasem*nt—notarrogantly scorning to stoop to the voice of afflicted innocence, and inits 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 andimplore Your Lordships to give your minds to this great business; that Iexhort you to look, not so much to words, which may be denied or quibbledaway, but to the plain facts,—to weigh and consider the testimony inyour own minds: we know the result must be inevitable. Let the truthappear and our cause is gained. It is this, I conjure Your Lordships, foryour own honor, for the honor of the nation, for the honor of humannature, now entrusted to your care,—it is this duty that the Commons ofEngland, speaking through us, claims at your hands.

"They exhort you to it by every thing that calls sublimely upon the heartof man, by the Majesty of that Justice which this bold man has libelled,by the wide fame of your own tribunal, by the sacred pledge by which youswear in the solemn hour of decision, knowing that that decision willthen bring you the highest reward that ever blessed the heart of man, theconsciousness 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 thisSpeech, [Footnote: I had selected many more, but must confess that theyappeared to me, when in print, so little worthy of the reputation of theSpeech, that I thought it would be, on the whole, more prudent to omitthem. Even of the passages, here cited, I speak rather from myimagination of what they must have been, than from my actual feeling ofwhat they are. The character, given of such Reports, by LordLoughborough, is, no doubt, but too just. On a motion made by LordStanhope, (April 29, 1794), that the short-hand writers, employed onHastings's trial, should be summoned to the bar of the House, to readtheir minutes, Lord Loughborough, in the course of his observations onthe motion, said, "God forbid that ever their Lordships should call onthe short-hand writers to publish their notes; for, of all people,short-hand writers were ever the farthest from correctness, and therewere no man's words they ever heard that they again returned. They werein general ignorant, as acting mechanically; and by not considering theantecedent, and catching the sound, and not the sense, they perverted thesense of the speaker, and made him appear as ignorant as themselves."] itwould be unfair to judge of it even from these specimens. A Report,verbatim, of any effective speech must always appear diffuse andungraceful in the perusal. The very repetitions, the redundancy, theaccumulation of epithets which gave force and momentum in the career ofdelivery, but weaken and encumber the march of the style, when read.There is, indeed, the same sort of difference between a faithfulshort-hand Report, and those abridged and polished records which Burkehas left us of his speeches, as there is between a cast taken directlyfrom the face, (where every line is accurately preserved, but all theblemishes and excrescences are in rigid preservation also,) and a model,over which the correcting hand has passed, and all that was minute orsuperfluous is generalized and softened away.

Neither was it in such rhetorical passages as abound, perhaps, ratherlavishly, in this Speech, that the chief strength of Mr. Sheridan'stalent lay. Good sense and wit were the great weapons of hisoratory—shrewdness in detecting the weak points of an adversary, andinfinite powers of raillery in exposing it. These were faculties which hepossessed in a greater degree than any of his contemporaries; and so welldid he himself know the stronghold of his powers, that it was but rarely,after this display in Westminster Hall, that he was tempted to leave itfor the higher flights of oratory, or to wander after Sense into thatregion of metaphor, where too often, like Angelica in the enchantedpalace of Atlante, she is sought for in vain. [Footnote: Curran used tosay laughingly, "When I can't talk sense, I talk metaphor."] Hisattempts, indeed, at the florid or figurative style, whether in hisspeeches or his writings, were seldom very successful. That luxuriance offancy, which in Burke was natural and indigenous, was in him rather aforced and exotic growth. It is a remarkable proof of this differencebetween them, that while, in the memorandums of speeches left behind byBurke, we find, that the points of argument and business were those whichhe prepared, trusting to the ever ready wardrobe of his fancy for theiradornment,—in Mr. Sheridan's notes it is chiefly the decorativepassages, that are worked up beforehand to their full polish; while onthe resources of his good sense, ingenuity, and temper, he seems to haverelied for the management of his reasonings and facts. Hence naturally itarises that the images of Burke, being called up on the instant, likespirits, to perform the bidding of his argument, minister to itthroughout, with an almost coordinate agency; while the figurativefancies of Sheridan, already prepared for the occasion, and brought forthto adorn, not assist, the business of the discourse, resemble ratherthose sprites which the magicians used to keep inclosed in phials, to beproduced for a 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 ofthe Samson does not lie in those luxuriant locks, it would at least beconsiderably diminished by their loss. Whereas, in the Speech of Mr.Sheridan, which we have just been considering, there is hardly one of therhetorical ornaments that might not be detached, without, in any greatdegree, injuring the force of the general statement. Another consequenceof this difference between them is observable in their respective modesof transition, from what may be called the business of a speechits more generalized and rhetorical parts. When Sheridan rises, hiselevation is not sufficiently prepared; he starts abruptly and at oncefrom the level of his statement, and sinks down into it again with thesame suddenness. But Burke, whose imagination never allows even businessto subside into mere prose, sustains a pitch throughout which accustomsthe mind to wonder, and, while it prepares us to accompany him in hisboldest flights, makes us, even when he walks, still feel that he haswings:—

"Même quand l'oiseau marche, on sent qu'il a des ailes."

The sincerity of the praises bestowed by Burke on the Speech of hisbrother Manager has sometimes been questioned, but upon no sufficientgrounds. His zeal for the success of the Impeachment, no doubt, had aconsiderable share in the enthusiasm, with which this great effort in itsfavor filled him. It may be granted, too, that, in admiring theapostrophes that variegate this speech, he was, in some degree, enamoredof a reflection of himself;

"Cunctaque miratur, quibus est mirabilis ipse."

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 somepassages of it, "There,—that is the true style;—something betweenpoetry and prose, and better than either." The severer taste of Mr. Foxdissented, as might be expected, from this remark. He replied, that "hethought such a mixture was for the advantage of neither—as producingpoetic prose, or, still worse, prosaic poetry." It was, indeed, theopinion of Mr. Fox, that the impression made upon Burke by these somewhattoo theatrical tirades is observable in the change that subsequently tookplace in his own style of writing; and that the florid and less chastenedtaste which some persons discover in his later productions, may all betraced to the example of this speech. However this may be, or whetherthere is really much difference, as to taste, between the youthful andsparkling vision of the Queen of France in 1792, and the interviewbetween the Angel and Lord Bathurst in 1775, it is surely a most unjustdisparagement of the eloquence of Burke, to apply to it, at any time ofhis life, the epithet "flowery,"—a designation only applicable to thatordinary ambition of style, whose chief display, by necessity, consistsof ornament without thought, and pomp without substance. A succession ofbright images, clothed in simple, transparent language,—even when, as inBurke, they "crowd upon the aching sense" too dazzlingly,—should neverbe confounded with that mere verbal opulence of style, which mistakes theglare of words for the glitter of ideas, and, like the Helen of thesculptor Lysippus, makes finery supply the place of beauty. Thefigurative definition of eloquence in the Book of Proverbs—"Apples ofgold in a net-work of silver"—is peculiarly applicable to thatenshrinement of rich, solid thoughts in clear and shining language, whichis the triumph of the imaginative class of writers and orators,—while,perhaps, the net-work, without the gold inclosed, is a typeequally significant of what is called "flowery" eloquence.

It is also, I think, a mistake, however flattering to my country, to callthe School of Oratory, to which Burke belongs, Irish. ThatIrishmen are naturally more gifted with those stores of fancy, from whichthe illumination of this high order of the art must be supplied, thenames of Burke, Grattan, Sheridan, Curran, Canning, and Plunkett,abundantly testify. Yet had Lord Chatham, before any of these greatspeakers were heard, led the way, in the same animated and figured strainof oratory; [Footnote: His few noble sentences on the privilege of thepoor man's cottage are universally known. There is also his fancifulallusion to the confluence of the Saone and Rhone, the traditionalreports of which vary, both as to the exact terms in which it wasexpressed, and the persons to whom he applied it. Even Lord Orford doesnot seem to have ascertained the latter point. To these may be added thefollowing specimen:—"I don't inquire from what quarter the wind cometh,but whither it goeth; and, if any measure that comes from the RightHonorable Gentleman tends to the public good, my bark is ready." Of adifferent kind is that grand passage,—"America, they tell me, hasresisted—I rejoice to hear it,"—which Mr. Grattan used to pronouncefiner than anything in Demosthenes.] while another Englishman, LordBacon, by making Fancy the hand-maid of Philosophy, had long since set anexample of that union of the imaginative and the solid, which, both inwriting and in speaking, forms the characteristic distinction of thisschool.

The Speech of Mr. Sheridan in Westminster Hall, though so much inferiorin the opinion of Mr. Fox and others, to that which he had delivered onthe same subject in the House of Commons, seems to have produced, at thetime, even a more lively and general sensation;—possibly from the natureand numerousness of the assembly before which it was spoken, and whichcounted among its multitude a number of that sex, whose lips are ingeneral found to be the most rapid conductors of fame.

But there was one of this sex, more immediately interested in hisglory, who seems to have felt it as women alone can feel. "I have delayedwriting," says Mrs. Sheridan, in a letter to her sister-in-law, datedfour days after the termination of the Speech, "till I could gratifymyself and you by sending you the news of our dear Dick's triumph!—ofour triumph I may call it; for surely, no one, in the slightestdegree connected with him, but must feel proud and happy. It isimpossible, my dear woman, to convey to you the delight, theastonishment, the adoration, he has excited in the breasts of every classof people! Every party-prejudice has been overcome by a display ofgenius, eloquence and goodness, which no one with any thing like a heartabout them, could have listened to without being the wiser and the betterfor the rest of their lives. What must my feelings be!—you canonly imagine. To tell you the truth, it is with some difficulty that Ican 'let down my mind,' as Mr. Burke said afterwards, to talk or think onany other subject. But pleasure, too exquisite, becomes pain, and I am atthis moment suffering for the delightful anxieties of last week."

It is a most happy combination when the wife of a man of genius unitesintellect enough to appreciate the talents of her husband, with thequick, feminine sensibility, that can thus passionately feel his success.Pliny tells us, that his Calpurnia, whenever he pleaded an importantcause, had messengers ready to report to her every murmur of applausethat he received; and the poet Statius, in alluding to his own victoriesat the Albanian Games, mentions the "breathless kisses," with which hiswife, Claudia, used to cover the triumphal garlands he brought home. Mrs.Sheridan may well take her place beside these Roman wives;—and she hadanother resemblance to one of them, which was no less womanly andattractive. Not only did Calpurnia sympathize with the glory of herhusband abroad, but she could also, like Mrs. Sheridan, add a charm tohis talents at home, by setting his verses to music and singing them toher harp,—"with no instructor," adds Pliny, "but Love, who is, afterall, the best master."

This letter of Mrs. Sheridan thus proceeds:—"You were perhaps alarmed bythe account of S.'s illness in the papers; but I have the pleasure toassure you he is now perfectly well, and I hope by next week we shall bequietly settled in the country, and suffered to repose, in every sense ofthe word; for indeed we have, both of us, been in a constant state ofa*gitation, of one kind or other, for some time back.

"I am very glad to hear your father continues so well. Surely he mustfeel happy and proud of such a son. I take it for granted you see thenewspapers: I assure you the accounts in them are not exaggerated, andonly echo the exclamation of admiration that is in every body's mouth. Imake no excuse for dwelling on this subject: I know you will not find ittedious. God bless you—I am an invalid at present, and not able to writelong 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 successof this great public effort of her husband, but from the share which sheherself had taken, in the labor and attention necessary to prepare himfor it. The mind of Sheridan being, from the circ*mstances of hiseducation and life, but scantily informed upon all subjects for whichreading is necessary, required, of course, considerable training andfeeding, before it could venture to grapple with any new or importanttask. He has been known to say frankly to his political friends, wheninvited to take part in some question that depended upon authorities,"You know I'm an ignoramus—but here I am—instruct me and I'll do mybest." It is said that the stock of numerical lore, upon which heventured to set up as the Aristarchus of Mr. Pitt's financial plans, wasthe result of three weeks' hard study of arithmetic, to which he doomedhimself, in the early part of his Parliamentary career, on the chance ofbeing appointed, some time or other, Chancellor of the Exchequer. Forfinancial display it must be owned that this was rather a crudepreparation. But there are other subjects of oratory, on which theoutpourings of information, newly acquired, may have a freshness andvivacity which it would be vain to expect, in the communication ofknowledge that has lain long in the mind, and lost in circ*mstantialspirit what it has gained in general mellowness. They, indeed, who havebeen regularly disciplined in learning, may be not only too familiar withwhat they know to communicate it with much liveliness to others, but tooapt also to rely upon the resources of the memory, and upon those coldoutlines which it retains of knowledge whose details are faded. Thenatural consequence of all this is that persons, the best furnished withgeneral information, are often the most vague and unimpressive onparticular subjects; while, on the contrary, an uninstructed man ofgenius, like Sheridan, who approaches a topic of importance for the firsttime, has not only the stimulus of ambition and curiosity to aid him inmastering its details, but the novelty of first impressions to brightenhis general views of it—and, with a fancy thus freshly excited, himself,is most sure to touch and rouse the imaginations of others.

This was particularly the situation of Mr. Sheridan with respect to thehistory of Indian affairs; and there remain among his papers numerousproofs of the labor which his preparation for this arduous task cost notonly himself but Mrs. Sheridan. Among others, there is a large pamphletof Mr. Hastings, consisting of more than two hundred pages, copied outneatly in her writing, with some assistance from another female hand. Theindustry, indeed, of all around him was put in requisition for this greatoccasion—some, busy with the pen and scissors, making extracts—somepasting and stitching his scattered memorandums in their places. So thatthere was hardly a single member of the family that could not boast ofhaving contributed his share, to the mechanical construction of thisspeech. The pride of its success was, of course, equally participated;and Edwards, a favorite servant of Mr. Sheridan, who lived with him manyyears, was long celebrated for his professed imitation of the manner inwhich his master delivered (what seems to have struck Edwards as thefinest part of the speech) his closing words, "My Lords, I have done!"

The impeachment of Warren Hastings is one of those pageants in the dramaof public life, which show how fleeting are the labors and triumphs ofpoliticians—"what shadows they are, and what shadows they pursue." Whenwe consider the importance which the great actors in that scene attachedto it,—the grandeur with which their eloquence invested the cause, asone in which the liberties and rights of the whole human race wereinterested,—and then think how all that splendid array of Law and oftalent has dwindled away, in the view of most persons at present, into anunworthy and harassing persecution of a meritorious and successfulstatesman;—how those passionate appeals to justice, those vehementdenunciations of crime, which made the halls of Westminster and St.Stephen's ring with their echoes, are now coldly judged, through themedium of disfiguring Reports, and regarded, at the best, but asrhetorical effusions, indebted to temper for their warmth, and to fancyfor their details;—while so little was the reputation of the delinquenthimself even scorched by the bolts of eloquence thus launched at him,that a subsequent House of Commons thought themselves honored by hispresence, and welcomed him with such cheers [Footnote: When called as awitness before the House, in 1813, on the subject of the renewal of theEast India Company's Charter.] as should reward only the friends andbenefactors of freedom;—when we reflect on this thankless result of somuch labor and talent, it seems wonderful that there should still befound high and gifted spirits, to waste themselves away in such temporarystruggles, and, like that spendthrift of genius, Sheridan, todiscount their immortality, for the payment of fame in hand whichthese triumphs of the day secure to them.

For this direction, however, which the current of opinion has taken, withregard to Mr. Hastings and his eloquent accusers, there are many veryobvious reasons to be assigned. Success, as I have already remarked, wasthe dazzling talisman, which he waved in the eyes of his adversaries fromthe first, and which his friends have made use of to throw a splendorover his tyranny and injustice ever since. [Footnote: In the importantarticle of Finance, however, for which he made so many sacrifices ofhumanity, even the justification of success was wanting to his measures.The following is the account given by the Select Committee of the Houseof Commons in 1810, of the state in which India was left by hisadministration:—"The revenues had been absorbed; the pay and allowancesof both the civil and military branches of the service were greatly inarrear; the credit of the Company was extremely depressed; and, added toall, the whole system had fallen into such irregularity and confusion,that the real state of affairs could not be ascertained till theconclusion of the year 1785-6."—Third Report.] Too often in themoral logic of this world, it matters but little what the premises ofconduct may be, so the conclusion but turns out showy and prosperous.There is also, it must be owned, among the English, (as perhaps, amongall free people,) a strong taste for the arbitrary, when they themselvesare not to be the victims of it, which invariably secures to suchaccomplished despotisms, as that of Lord Strafford in Ireland, andHastings 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 prosecutionindulged,—Mr. Sheridan, from imagination, luxuriating in its owndisplay, and Burke from the same cause, added to his overpoweringautocracy of temper—were but too much calculated to throw suspicion onthe cause in which they were employed, and to produce a reaction in favorof the person whom they were meant to overwhelm. "Rogo vos,Judices,"—Mr. Hastings might well have said,—"si iste disertusest, ideo me damnari oportet?" [Footnote: Seneca, Controvers. lib.iii. c. 19.]

There are also, without doubt, considerable allowances to be made, forthe difficult situations in which Mr. Hastings was placed, and thoseimpulses to wrong which acted upon him from all sides—allowances whichwill have more or less weight with the judgment, according as it may bemore or less fastidiously disposed, in letting excuses for rapine andoppression pass muster. The incessant and urgent demands of the Directorsupon him for money may palliate, perhaps, the violence of those methodswhich he took to procure it for them; and the obstruction to his policywhich would have arisen from a strict observance of Treaties, may beadmitted, by the same gentle casuistry, as an apology for his frequentinfractions of them.

Another consideration to be taken into account, in our estimate of thecharacter of Mr. Hastings as a ruler, is that strong light of publicity,which the practice in India of carrying on the business of government bywritten documents threw on all the machinery of his measures,deliberative as well as executive. These Minutes, indeed, form a recordof fluctuation and inconsistency—not only on the part of theGovernor-General, but of all the members of the government—a sort ofweather-co*ck diary of opinions and principles, shifting with theinterests or convenience of the moment, [Footnote: Instances of this, onthe part of Mr. Hastings, are numberless. In remarking upon his corrupttransfer of the management of the Nabob's household in 1778, theDirectors say, "It is with equal surprise and concern that we observethis request introduced, and the Nabob's ostensible rights so solemnlyasserted at this period by our Governor-General; because, on a lateoccasion, to serve a very different purpose, he has not scrupled todeclare it as visible as the light of the sun, that the Nabob is a merepageant, and without even the shadow of authority." On anothertransaction in 1781, Mr. Mill remarks:—"It is a curious moral spectacleto compare the minutes and letters of the Governor-General, when, at thebeginning of the year 1780, maintaining the propriety of condemning theNabob to sustain the whole of the burden imposed upon him, and hisminutes and letters maintaining the propriety of relieving him from thoseburthens in 1781. The arguments and facts adduced on the one occasion, aswell as the conclusion, are a flat contradiction to those exhibited onthe other."] which entirely takes away our respect even for success, whenissuing out of such a chaos of self-contradiction and shuffling. Itcannot be denied, however, that such a system of exposure—submitted, asit was in this case, to a still further scrutiny, under the bold,denuding hands of a Burke and a Sheridan—was a test to which thecouncils of few rulers could with impunity be brought. Where, indeed, isthe statesman that could bear to have his obliquities thus chronicled? orwhere is the Cabinet that would not shrink from such an inroad of lightinto its recesses?

The undefined nature, too, of that power which the Company exercised inIndia, and the uncertain state of the Law, vibrating between the Englishand the Hindoo codes, left such tempting openings for injustice as it washardly possible to resist. With no public opinion to warn off authorityfrom encroachment, and with the precedents set up by former rulers allpointing the wrong way, it would have been difficult, perhaps, for evenmore moderate men than Hastings, not occasionally to break bounds and gocontinually astray.

To all these considerations in his favor is to be added the apparentlytriumphant fact, that his government was popular among the natives ofIndia, and that his name is still remembered by them with gratitude andrespect.

Allowing Mr. Hastings, however, the full advantage of these and otherstrong pleas in his defence, it is yet impossible, for any real lover ofjustice and humanity, to read the plainest and least exaggerated historyof his government, [Footnote: Nothing can be more partial and misleadingthan the coloring given to these transactions by Mr. Nicholls and otherapologists of Hastings. For the view which I have myself taken of thewhole case I am chiefly indebted to the able History of British India byMr. Mill—whose industrious research and clear analytical statements makehim the most valuable authority that can be consulted on the subject.

The mood of mind in which Mr. Nicholls listened to the proceedings of theImpeachment may be judged from the following declaration, which he hashad the courage to promulgate to the public:—"On this Charge (the BegumCharge) Mr. Sheridan made a speech, which both sides of the Houseprofessed greatly to admire—for Mr. Pitt now openly approved of theImpeachment. I will acknowledge, that I did not admire this speech ofMr. Sheridan."] without feeling deep indignation excited at almostevery page of it. His predecessors had, it is true, been guilty of wrongsas glaring—the treachery of Lord Clive to Omichund in 1757, and theabandonment of Ramnarain to Meer Causim under the administration of Mr.Vansittart, are stains upon the British character which no talents orglory can do away. There are precedents, indeed, to be found, through theannals of our Indian empire, for the formation of the most perfect codeof tyranny, in every department, legislative, judicial, and executive,that ever entered into the dreams of intoxicated power. But, while thepractice of Mr. Hastings was, at least, as tyrannical as that of hispredecessors, the principles upon which he founded that practice werestill more odious and unpardonable. In his manner, indeed, of defendinghimself he is his own worst accuser—as there is no outrage of power, noviolation of faith, that might not be justified by the versatile andambidextrous doctrines, the lessons of deceit and rules of rapine, whichhe so ably illustrated by his measures, and has so shamelessly recordedwith his pen.

Nothing but an early and deep initiation in the corrupting school ofIndian politics could have produced the facility with which, as occasionrequired, he could belie his own recorded assertions, turn hostilelyround upon his own expressed opinions, disclaim the proxies which hehimself had delegated, and, in short, get rid of all the inconveniencesof personal identity, by never acknowledging himself to be bound by anyengagement or opinion which himself had formed. To select the worstfeatures of his Administration is no very easy task; but the calculatingcruelty with which he abetted the extermination of the Rohillas—hisunjust and precipitate execution of Nuncomar, who had stood forth as hisaccuser, and, therefore, became his victim,—his violent aggression uponthe Raja of Benares, and that combination of public and private rapacity,which is exhibited in the details of his conduct to the royal family ofOude;—these are acts, proved by the testimony of himself and hisaccomplices, from the disgrace of which no formal acquittal upon pointsof law can absolve him, and whose guilt the allowances of charity mayextenuate, but never can remove. That the perpetrator of such deedsshould have been popular among the natives of India only proves how lowwas the standard of justice, to which the entire tenor of our policy hadaccustomed them;—but that a ruler of this character should be held up toadmiration in England, is one of those anomalies with which England, morethan any other nation, abounds, and only inclines us to wonder that thetrue worship of Liberty should so long have continued to flourish in acountry, where such heresies to her sacred cause are found.

I have dwelt so long upon the circ*mstances and nature of this Trial, notonly on account of the conspicuous place which it occupies in thefore-ground of Mr. Sheridan's life, but because of that general interestwhich an observer of our Institutions must take in it, from the clearnesswith 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 thelead taken, upon an occasion of such solemnity and importance, by twopersons brought forward from the middle ranks of society into the veryvan of political distinction and influence, on the other hand, in thesympathy and favor extended by the Court to the practical assertor ofdespotic principles, we trace the prevalence of that feeling, which,since the commencement of the late King's reign, has made the Throne therallying point of all that are unfriendly to the cause of freedom. Again,in considering the conduct of the Crown Lawyers during the Trial—thenarrow and irrational rules of evidence which they sought toestablish—the unconstitutional control assumed by the Judges, over thedecisions of the tribunal before which the cause was tried, and therefusal to communicate the reasons upon which those decisions werefounded—above all, too, the legal opinions expressed on the greatquestion relative to the abatement of an Impeachment by Dissolution, inwhich almost the whole body of lawyers [Footnote: Among the rest, LordErskine, who allowed his profession, on this occasion, to stand in thelight of his judgment. "As to a Nisi-prius lawyer (said Burke) giving anopinion on the duration of an Impeachment—as well might a rabbit, thatbreeds six times a year, pretend to know any thing of the gestation of anelephant."] took the wrong, the pedantic, and the unstatesmanlike side ofthe question,—while in all these indications of the spirit of thatprofession, and of its propensity to tie down the giant Truth, with itssmall threads of technicality and precedent, we perceive the danger to beapprehended from the interference of such a spirit in politics, on theother side, arrayed against these petty tactics of the Forum, we see thebroad banner of Constitutional Law, upheld alike by a Fox and a Pitt, aSheridan and a Dundas, and find truth and good sense taking refuge fromthe equivocations of lawyers, in such consoling documents as the Reportupon the Abuses of the Trial by Burke—a document which, if ever a reformof the English law should be attempted, will stand as a great guidinglight to the adventurers in that heroic enterprise.

It has been frequently asserted, that on the evening of Mr. Sheridan'sgrand display in the House of Commons, The School for Scandal and theDuenna were acted at Covent Garden and Drury Lane, and thus three greataudiences were at the same moment amused, agitated, and, as it were,wielded by the intellect of one man. As this triple triumph oftalent—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 lamentedthat no such coincidence did actually take place, and that the ability tohave achieved the miracle is all that can be with truth attributed tohim. From a careful examination of the play-bills of the differenttheatres during this period, I have ascertained, with regret, thatneither on the evening of the speech in the House of Commons, nor on anyof the days of the oration in Westminster Hall, was there, either atCovent-Garden, Drury-Lane, or Haymarket theatres, any piece whatever ofMr. Sheridan's acted.

The following passages of a letter from Miss Sheridan to her sister inIreland, written while on a visit with her brother in London, thoughreferring to a later period of the Trial, may without impropriety beinserted here:—

"Just as I received your letter yesterday, I was setting out for theTrial with Mrs. Crewe and Mrs. Dixon. I was fortunate in my day, as Iheard all the principal speakers—Mr. Burke I admired the least—Mr. Foxvery much indeed. The subject in itself was not particularly interesting,as the debate turned merely on a point of law, but the earnestness of hismanner and the amazing precision with which he conveys his ideas is trulydelightful. And last, not least, I heard my brother! I cannot express toyou the sensation of pleasure and pride that filled my heart at themoment he rose. Had I never seen him or heard his name before, I shouldhave conceived him the first man among them at once. There is a dignityand grace in his countenance and deportment, very striking—at the sametime that one cannot trace the smallest degree of conscious superiorityin his manner. His voice, too, appeared to me extremely fine. The speechitself was not much calculated to display the talents of an orator, as ofcourse it related only to dry matter. You may suppose I am not so lavishof praises before indifferent persons, but I am sure you will acquit meof partiality in what I have said. When they left the Hall we walkedabout some time, and were joined by several of the managers—among therest by Mr. Burke, whom we set down at his own house. They seem now tohave better hopes of the business than they have had for some time; asthe point urged with so much force and apparent success relates to verymaterial evidence which the Lords have refused to hear, but which, onceproduced, must prove strongly against Mr. Hastings; and, from what passedyesterday, they think their Lordships must yield.—We sat in the King'sbox," &c.

CHAPTER II.

DEATH OF MR. SHERIDAN'S FATHER.—VERSES BY MRS. SHERIDAN ON THE DEATH OFHER SISTER, MRS. TICKELL.

In the summer of this year the father of Mr. Sheridan died. He had beenrecommended to try the air of Lisbon for his health, and had left Dublinfor that purpose, accompanied by his younger daughter. But the rapidincrease of his malady prevented him from proceeding farther thanMargate, where he died about the beginning of August, attended in hislast moments by his son Richard.

We have seen with what harshness, to use no stronger term, Mr. Sheridanwas for many years treated by his father, and how persevering andaffectionate were the efforts, in spite of many capricious repulses, thathe made to be restored to forgiveness and favor. In his happiest moments,both of love and fame, the thought of being excluded from the paternalroof came across him with a chill that seemed to sadden all his triumph.[Footnote: See the letter written by him immediately after his marriage,vol. i. page 80, and the anecdote in page 111, same vol.] When it isconsidered, too, that the father, to whom he felt thus amiably, had neverdistinguished him by any particular kindness but, on the contrary, hadalways shown a marked preference for the disposition and abilities of hisbrother Charles—it is impossible not to acknowledge, in such true filialaffection, a proof that talent was not the only ornament of Sheridan, andthat, however unfavorable to moral culture was the life that he led,Nature, in forming his mind, had implanted there virtue, as well asgenius.

Of the tender attention which he paid to his father on his death-bed, Iam enabled to lay before the reader no less a testimony than the letterswritten at the time by Miss Sheridan, who, as I have already said,accompanied the old gentleman from Ireland, and now shared with herbrother the task of comforting his last moments. And here,—it isdifficult even for contempt to keep down the indignation, that one cannotbut feel at those slanderers, under the name of biographers, who callingin malice to the aid of their ignorance, have not scrupled to assert thatthe father of Sheridan died unattended by any of his nearestrelatives!—Such are ever the marks that Dulness leaves behind, in itsGothic irruptions into the sanctuary of departed Genius—defacing what itcannot understand, polluting what it has not the soul to reverence, andtaking revenge for its own darkness, by the wanton profanation of allthat is sacred in the eyes of others.

Immediately on the death of their father, Sheridan removed his sister toDeepden—a seat of the Duke of Norfolk in Surrey, which His Grace hadlately lent him—and then returned, himself, to Margate, to pay the lasttribute to his father's remains. The letters of Miss Sheridan areaddressed to her elder sister in Ireland, and the first which I shallgive entire, was written a day or two after her arrival at Deepden.

"MY DEAR LOVE,

"Dibden, August 18.

"Though you have ever been uppermost in my thoughts, yet it has not beenin my power to write since the few lines I sent from Margate. I hope thiswill find you, in some degree, recovered from the shock you must haveexperienced from the late melancholy event. I trust to your own piety andthe tenderness of your worthy husband, for procuring you such a degree ofcalmness of mind as may secure your health from injury. In the midst ofwhat I have suffered I have been thankful that you did not share a sceneof distress which you could not have relieved. I have supported myself,but I am sure, had we been together, we should have suffered more.

"With regard to my brother's kindness, I can scarcely express to you howgreat it has been. He saw my father while he was still sensible, andnever quitted him till the awful moment was past—I will not now dwell onparticulars. My mind is not sufficiently recovered to enter on thesubject, and you could only be distressed by it. He returns soon toMargate to pay the last duties in the manner desired by my father. Hisfeelings have been severely tried, and earnestly I pray he may not sufferfrom that cause, or from the fatigue he has endured. His tenderness to meI never can forget. I had so little claim on him, that I still feel adegree of surprise mixed with my gratitude. Mrs. Sheridan's reception ofme was truly affectionate. They leave me to myself now as much as Iplease, as I had gone through so much fatigue of body and mind that Irequire some rest. I have not, as you may suppose, looked much beyond thepresent hour, but I begin to be more composed. I could now enjoy yoursociety, and I wish for it hourly. I should think I may hope to see yousooner in England than you had intended; but you will write to me verysoon, and let me know everything that concerns you. I know not whetheryou will feel like me a melancholy pleasure in the reflection that myfather received the last kind offices from my brother Richard, [Footnote:In a letter, from which I have given an extract in the early part of thisvolume, written by the elder sister of Sheridan a short time after hisdeath, in referring to the differences that existed between him and hisfather, she says—"and yet it was that son, and not the object of hispartial fondness, who at last closed his eyes." It generally happens thatthe injustice of such partialities is revenged by the ingratitude ofthose who are the objects of them; and the present instance, as there isbut too much reason to believe, was not altogether an exception to theremark.] whose conduct on this occasion must convince every one of thegoodness of his heart and the truth of his filial affection. One morereflection of consolation is, that nothing was omitted that could haveprolonged his life or eased his latter hours. God bless and preserve you,my dear love. I shall soon write more to you, but shall for a short timesuspend my journal, as still too many painful thoughts will crowd upon meto suffer me to regain such a frame of mind as I should wish when I writeto you.

"Ever affectionately your

"E. SHERIDAN."

In another letter, dated a few days after, she gives an account of thedomestic life of Mrs. Sheridan, which, like everything that is related ofthat most interesting woman, excites a feeling towards her memory, littleshort of love.

"MY DEAR LOVE,

"Dibden, Friday, 22.

"I shall endeavor to resume my journal, though my anxiety to hear fromyou occupies my mind in a way that unfits me for writing. I have beenhere almost a week in perfect quiet. While there was company in thehouse, I stayed in my room, and since my brother's leaving us to go toMargate, I have sat at times with Mrs. Sheridan, who is kind andconsiderate; so that I have entire liberty. Her poor sister's [Footnote:Mrs. Tickell.] children are all with her. The girl gives her constantemployment, 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 nightMrs. S. showed me a picture of Mrs. Tickell, which she wears round herneck. The thing was misrepresented to you;—it was not done after herdeath, 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 hassoftened down the traces of illness in such a way that the pictureconveys no gloomy idea. It represents her in a sweet sleep; which musthave been soothing to her friend, after seeing her for a length of timein a state of constant suffering.

"My brother left us Wednesday morning, and we do not expect him to returnfor some days. He meant only to stay at Margate long enough to attend thelast melancholy office, which it was my poor father's express desireshould 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 absences, which sheknows are unavoidable. I never saw any one so constant in employing everymoment of her time, and to that I attribute, in a great measure, therecovery of her health and spirits. The education of her niece, hermusic, books, and work, occupy every minute of the day. After dinner, thechildren, who call her "Mamma-aunt," spend some time with us, and hermanner to them is truly delightful. The girl, you know, is the eldest.The eldest boy is about five years old, very like his father, butextremely gentle in his manners. The youngest is past three. The wholeset then retire to the music-room. As yet I cannot enjoy theirparties;—a song from Mrs. Sheridan affected me last night in a mostpainful manner. I shall not try the experiment soon again. Mrs. S. blamedherself for putting me to the trial, and, after tea, got a book, whichshe read to us till supper. This, I find, is the general way of passingthe evening.

"They are now at their music, and I have retired to add a few lines. Thisday has been more gloomy than we have been for some days past;—it is thefirst day of our getting into mourning. All the servants in deep mourningmade a melancholy appearance, and I found it very difficult to sit outthe dinner. But as I have dined below since there has been only Mrs.Sheridan and Miss Linley here, I would not suffer a circ*mstance, towhich I must accustom myself, to break in on their comfort."

These children, to whom Mrs. Sheridan thus wholly devoted herself, andcontinued to do so for the remainder of her life, had lost their mother,Mrs. Tickell, in the year 1787, by the same complaint that afterwardsproved fatal to their aunt. The passionate attachment of Mrs. Sheridan tothis sister, and the deep grief with which she mourned her loss, areexpressed in a poem of her own so touchingly, that, to those who love thelanguage of real feeling, I need not apologize for their introductionhere. Poetry, in general, is but a cold interpreter of sorrow; and themore it displays its skill, as an art, the less is it likely to dojustice to nature. In writing these verses, however, the workmanship wasforgotten in the subject; and the critic, to feel them as he ought,should forget his own craft in reading them.

"Written in the Spring of the Year 1788.

"The hours and days pass on;—sweet Spring returns,
And whispers comfort to the heart that 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 proclaimed 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 brown,
That swiftly glided o'er the mead below,
Or in some fancied form descended slow.
How oft, well pleas'd each other to adorn,
We stripped the blossoms from the fragrant thorn,
Or caught the violet where, in humble bed,
Asham'd 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 tears obscure my sadden'd eyes,
And, while surrounding objects they conceal,
Her form belov'd the trembling drops reveal.

"Sometimes the lovely, blooming girl I view.
My youth's companion, friend for ever true,
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,
'Twas my sad fate to see for ever close
On life, on love, the world, and all its woes;
To watch the slow disease, with hopeless care,
And veil in painful smiles my heart's despair;
To see her droop, with restless languor weak,
While fatal beauty mantled in her cheek,
Like fresh flow'rs springing from some mouldering clay,
Cherish'd by death, and blooming from decay.
Yet, tho' oppress'd by ever-varying pain,
The gentle sufferer scarcely would complain,
Hid every sigh, each trembling doubt reprov'd,
To spare a pang to those fond hearts she lov'd.
And 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.'
Thus fondly 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, taste.
The cruel hand of sickness now laid waste;
Subdued with pain, it shar'd the common lot.
All, all its lovely energies forgot!
The husband, parent, sister, knelt in vain,
One recollecting look alone to gain:
The shades of night her beaming eyes obscur'd,
And Nature, vanquished, 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 light
Thy franchis'd spirit took its happy flight,
With fond regard, perhaps, thou saw'st me bend
O'er the cold relics of my heart's best friend,
And heard'st me swear, while her dear hand I prest.
And tears of agony bedew'd my breast,
For her lov'd sake to act the mother's part,
And take her darling infants to my heart,
With tenderest care their youthful minds improve,
And guard her treasure with protecting love.
Once more look down, blest creature, 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 bless,
And every voice her virtue shall confess,
When my fond heart 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;
Such was her youth, so blithe, so rosy sweet,
And such her mind, unpractis'd in deceit;
With artless elegance, unstudied grace,
Thus did she gain in every heart a place!'

"Then, while the dear remembrance I behold,
Time shall steal on, nor tell me I am old,
Till, nature wearied, each fond duty o'er,
I join my Angel Friend—to part no more!"

To the conduct of Mr. Sheridan, during the last moments of his father, afurther testimony has been kindly communicated to me by Mr. Jarvis, amedical gentleman of Margate, who attended Mr. Thomas Sheridan on thatoccasion, and whose interesting communication I shall here give in hisown 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. R. B.Sheridan arrived here from town, having brought with him Dr. Morris, ofParliament street. I was in the bedroom with Mr. Sheridan when the sonarrived, and witnessed an interview in which the father showed himself tobe strongly impressed by his son's attention, saying with considerableemotion, 'Oh Dick, I give you a great deal of trouble!' and seeming toimply by his manner, that his son had been less to blame than himself,for any previous want of cordiality between them.

"On my making my last call for the evening, Mr. R. B. Sheridan, withdelicacy, but much earnestness, expressed his fear that the nurse inattendance on his father, might not be so competent as myself to therequisite attentions, and his hope that I would consent to remain in theroom for a few of the first hours of the night; as he himself, havingbeen travelling the preceding night, required some short repose. Icomplied with his request, and remained at the father's bed-side tillrelieved by the son, about three o'clock in the morning:—he theninsisted on taking my place. From this time he never quitted the housetill his father's death; on the day after which he wrote me a letter, nowbefore me, of which the annexed is an exact copy:

'SIR,

'Friday Morning,

'I wished to see you this morning before I went, to thank you for yourattention 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 ofthe inclosed from myself.

'I am, Sir,

'Your obedient Servant,

'R. B. SHERIDAN.

'I have explained to Dr. Morris (who has informed me that you willrecommend a proper person), that it is my desire to have the hearse, andthe manner of coming to town, as respectful as possible.'

"The inclosure, referred to in this letter, was a bank-note of tenpounds,—a most liberal remuneration. Mr. R. B. Sheridan left Margate,intending that his father should be buried in London; but he thereascertained that it had been his father's expressed wish that he shouldbe buried in the parish next to that in which he should happen to die. Hethen, consequently, returned to Margate, accompanied by hisbrother-in-law, Mr. Tickell, with whom and Mr. Thompson and myself, hefollowed his father's remains to the burial-place, which was not inMargate 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 thisextract, had once, as he informs me, the intention of having a cenotaphraised, to the memory of Mr. Sheridan's father, in the church of Margate.[Footnote: Though this idea was relinquished, it appears that a friend ofMr. 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 thechurch of St. Peter.] With this view he applied to Dr. Parr for anInscription, and the following is the tribute to his old friend withwhich that learned and kind-hearted man supplied him:—

"This monument, A. D. 1824, was, by subscription, erected to the memoryof Thomas Sheridan, Esq., who died in the neighboring parish of St. John,August 14, 1788, in the 69th year of his age, and, according to his ownrequest, was there buried. He was grandson to Dr. Thomas Sheridan, thebrother of Dr. William, a conscientious non-juror, who, in 1691, wasdeprived of the Bishopric of Kilmore. He was the son of Dr. ThomasSheridan, a profound scholar and eminent schoolmaster, intimatelyconnected with Dean Swift and other illustrious writers in the reign ofQueen Anne. He was husband to the ingenious and amiable author of SidneyBiddulph and several dramatic pieces favorably received. He was father ofthe celebrated orator and dramatist, Richard Brinsley Sheridan. He hadbeen the schoolfellow, and, through life, was the companion, of theamiable Archbishop Markham. He was the friend of the learned Dr. Sumner,master of Harrow School, and the well-known Dr. Parr. He took his firstacademical degree in the University of Dublin, about 1736. He was honoredby the University of Oxford with the degree of A. M. in 1758, and in 1759he obtained the same distinction at Cambridge. He, for many years,presided over the theatre of Dublin; and, at Drury Lane, he in publicestimation stood next to David Garrick. In the literary world he wasdistinguished by numerous and useful writings on the pronunciation of theEnglish language. Through some of his opinions ran a vein of singularity,mingled with the rich ore of genius. In his manners there was dignifiedease;—in his spirit, invincible firmness;—and in his habits andprinciples, unsullied integrity."

CHAPTER III.

ILLNESS OF THE KING.—REGENCY.—PRIVATE LIFE OF MR. SHERIDAN.

Mr. Sheridan had assuredly no reason to complain of any deficiency ofexcitement in the new career to which he now devoted himself. Asuccession of great questions, both foreign and domestic, came, one afterthe other, like the waves described by the poet;—

"And one no sooner touched the shore, and died,
Than a new follower rose, and swell'd as proudly."

Scarcely had the impulse, which his own genius had given to theprosecution of Hastings, begun to abate, when the indisposition of theKing opened another field, not only for the display of all his variouspowers, but for the fondest speculations of his interest and ambition.

The robust health and temperate habits of the Monarch, while they heldout the temptation of a long lease of power, to those who either enjoyedor were inclined to speculate in his favor, gave proportionally the graceof disinterestedness to the followers of an Heir-Apparent, whose means ofrewarding their devotion were, from the same causes, uncertain andremote. The alarming illness of the Monarch, however, gave a new turn tothe prospect:—Hope was now seen, like the winged Victory of theancients, to change sides; and both the expectations of those who lookedforward to the reign of the Prince, as the great and happy millennium ofWhiggism, and the apprehensions of the far greater number, to whom themorals of his Royal Highness and his friends were not less formidablethan their politics, seemed now on the very eve of being realized.

On the first meeting of Parliament, after the illness of His Majesty wasknown, it was resolved, from considerations of delicacy, that the Houseshould adjourn for a fortnight; at the end of which period it wasexpected that another short adjournment would be proposed by theMinister. In this interval, the following judicious letter was addressedto the Prince of Wales by Mr. Sheridan:—

"SIR,

"Prom the intelligence of to-day we are led to think that Pitt will makesomething more of a speech, in moving to adjourn on Thursday, than was atfirst imagined. In this case we presume Your Royal Highness will be ofopinion that we must not be wholly silent. I possessed Payne yesterdaywith my sentiments on the line of conduct which appeared to me best to beadopted on this occasion, that they might be submitted to Your RoyalHighness's consideration; and I take the liberty of repeating my firmconviction, that it will greatly advance Your Royal Highness's credit,and, in case of events, lay the strongest grounds to baffle every attemptat opposition to Your Royal Highness's just claims and right, that thelanguage of those who may be, in any sort, suspected of knowing YourRoyal Highness's wishes and feelings, should be that of great moderationin disclaiming all party views, and avowing the utmost readiness toacquiesce in any reasonable delay. At the same time, I am perfectly awareof the arts which will be practised, and the advantages which some peoplewill attempt to gain by time: but I am equally convinced that we shouldadvance their evil views by showing the least impatience or suspicion atpresent; and I am also convinced that a third party will soon appear,whose efforts may, in the most decisive manner, prevent this sort ofsituation and proceeding from continuing long. Payne will probably havesubmitted to Your Royal Highness more fully my idea on this subject,towards which I have already taken some successful steps. [Footnote: Thismust allude to the negotiation with Lord Thurlow.] Your Royal Highnesswill, I am sure, have the goodness to pardon the freedom with which Igive my opinion;—after which I have only to add, that whatever YourRoyal Highness's judgment decides, shall be the guide of my conduct, andwill undoubtedly be so to others."

Captain (afterwards Admiral) Payne, of whom mention is made in thisletter, held the situation of Comptroller of the Household of the Princeof Wales, and was in attendance upon His Royal Highness, during the earlypart of the King's illness, at Windsor. The following letters, addressedby him to Mr. Sheridan at this period, contain some curious particulars,both with respect to the Royal patient himself, and the feelings of thoseabout him, which, however secret and confidential they were at the time,may now, without scruple, be made matters of history:—

"MY DEAR SHERIDAN,

"Half past ten at night.

"I arrived here about three quarters of an hour after Pitt had left it. Iinclose you the copy of a letter the Prince has just written to theChancellor, and sent by express, which will give you the outline of theconversation with the Prince, as well as the situation of the King'shealth. I think it an advisable measure, [Footnote: Meaning, thecommunication to the Chancellor] as it is a sword that cuts both ways,without being unfit to be shown to whom he pleases,—but which he will, Ithink, understand best himself. Pitt desired the longest delay that couldbe granted with propriety, previous to the declaration of the presentcalamity. The Duke of York, who is looking over me, and is just come outof the King's room, bids me add that His Majesty's situation is everymoment becoming worse. His pulse is weaker and weaker; and the Doctorssay it is impossible to survive it long, if his situation does not takesome extraordinary change in a few hours.

"So far I had got when your servant came, meaning to send this by theexpress that carried the Chancellor's letter; in addition to which, thePrince has desired Doctor Warren to write an account to him, which he isnow doing. His letter says, if an amendment does not take place intwenty-four hours, it is impossible for the King to support it:—he addsto me, he will answer for his never living to be declared a lunatic. Isay all this to you in confidence, (though I will not answer for beingintelligible,) as it goes by your own servant; but I need not add, yourown discretion will remind you how necessary it is that neither my namenor those I use should be quoted even to many of our best friends, whoserepetition, without any ill intention, might frustrate views they do notsee.

"With respect to the papers, the Prince thinks you had better leave themto themselves, as we cannot authorize any report, nor can he contradictthe worst; a few hours must, every individual says, terminate oursuspense, and, therefore, all precaution must be needless:—however, dowhat you think best. His Royal Highness would write to you himself; theagitation he is in will not permit it. Since this letter was begun, allarticulation even seems to be at an end with the poor King: but for thetwo hours preceding, he was in a most determined frenzy. In short, I ammyself in so violent a state of agitation, from participating in thefeelings of those about me, that if I am intelligible to you, 'tis morethan I am to myself. Cataplasms are on his Majesty's feet, and strongfomentations have been used without effect: but let me quit so painful asubject. The Prince was much pleased with my conversation with LordLoughborough, to whom I do not write, as I conceive 'tis the same,writing to you.

"The Archbishop has written a very handsome letter, expressive of hisduty and offer of service; but he is not required to come down, it beingthought too late.

"Good night.—I will write upon every occasion that information may beuseful.

"Ever yours, most sincerely,

"J. W. PAYNE.

"I have been much pleased with the Duke's zeal since my return,especially in this communication to you."

"DEAR SHERIDAN,

"Twelve o'clock, noon.

"The King last night about twelve o'clock, being then in a situation hecould not long have survived, by the effect of James's powder, had aprofuse stool, after which a strong perspiration appeared, and he fellinto a profound sleep. We were in hopes this was the crisis of hisdisorder, although the doctors were fearful it was so only with respectto one part of his disorder. However, these hopes continued not above anhour, when he awoke, with a well-conditioned skin, no extraordinarydegree of fever, but with the exact state he was in before, with all thegestures and ravings of the most confirmed maniac, and a new noise, inimitation of the howling of a dog; in this situation he was this morningat one o'clock, when we came to bed. The Duke of York, who has been twicein my room in the course of the night, immediately from the King'sapartment, says there has not been one moment of lucid interval duringthe whole night,—which, I must observe to you, is the concurring, aswell as fatal testimony of all about him, from the first moment ofHis Majesty's confinement. The doctors have since had their consultation,and find His Majesty calmer, and his pulse tolerably good and muchreduced, but the most decided symptoms of insanity. His theme has beenall this day on the subject of religion, and of his being inspired, fromwhich his physicians draw the worst consequences, as to any hopes ofamendment. In this situation His Majesty remains at the present moment,which I give you at length, to prevent your giving credit to the thousandridiculous reports that we hear, even upon the spot. Truth is not easilygot at in palaces, and so I find here; and time only slowly brings it toone's knowledge. One hears a little bit every day from somebody, that hasbeen reserved with great costiveness, or purposely forgotten; and by allsuch accounts I find that the present distemper has been very palpablefor some time past, previous to any confinement from sickness; and soapprehensive have the people about him been of giving offence byinterruption, that the two days (viz. yesterday se'nnight and the Mondayfollowing) that he was five hours each on horseback, he was in aconfirmed frenzy. On the Monday at his return he burst out into tears tothe Duke of York, and said, 'He wished to God he might die, I for he wasgoing 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 thesedifferent reports, that you may be completely master of the subject as itstands, and which I shall continue to advertise you of in all itsvariations. Warren, who is the living principle in this business, (forpoor Baker is half crazed himself,) and who I see every half hour, isextremely attentive to the King's disorder. The various fluctuations ofhis ravings, as well as general situation of his health, are accuratelywritten down throughout the day, and this we have got signed by thePhysician every day, and all proper inquiry invited; for I think itnecessary to do every thing that may prevent their making use hereafterof any thing like jealousy, suspicion, or mystery, to create publicdistrust; and, therefore, the best and most unequivocal means ofsatisfaction 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;—Ineed not, I hope, say your confidence is as safe as if it was returned toyour own mind, and your advice will always be thankfully adopted. Theevent we looked for last night is postponed, perhaps for a short time, sothat, at least, we shall have time to consider more maturely. The Doctorstold Pitt they would beg not to be obliged to make their declaration fora fortnight as to the incurability of the King's mind, and not to besurprised if, at the expiration of that time, they should ask more time;but that they were perfectly ready to declare now for the furtherance ofpublic business, that he is now insane; that it appears to be unconnectedwith any other disease of his body, and that they have tried all theirskill without effect, and that to the disease they at present see noend in their contemplation:—these are their own words, which is allthat can be implied in an absolute declaration,—for infallibility cannotbe ascribed to them.

"Should not something be done about the public amusem*nts? If it wasrepresented to Pitt, it might embarrass them either way; particularly asit might call for a public account every day. I think the Chancellormight take a good opportunity to break with his colleagues, if theypropose restriction, the Law authority would have great weight with us,as well as preventing even a design of moving the City;—at all events, Ithink Parliament would not confirm their opinion. If Pitt stirs much, Ithink any attempt to grasp at power might be fatal to hisinterest, at least, well turned against it.

"The Prince has sent for me directly, so I'll send this now, and writeagain."

In the words, "I think the Chancellor might take a good opportunity tobreak with his colleagues," the writer alludes to a negotiation whichSheridan had entered into with Lord Thurlow, and by which it was expectedthat the co-operation of that Learned Lord might be secured, inconsideration of his being allowed to retain the office of Chancellorunder the Regency.

Lord Thurlow was one of those persons who, being taken by the world attheir own estimate of themselves, contrive to pass upon the times inwhich they live for much more than they are worth. His bluntness gainedhim credit for superior honesty, and the same peculiarity of exteriorgave a weight, not their own, to his talents; the roughness of thediamond being, by a very common mistake, made the measure of its value.The negotiation for his alliance on this occasion was managed, if notfirst suggested, by Sheridan; and Mr. Fox, on his arrival from theContinent, (having been sent for express upon the first announcement ofthe King's illness,) found considerable progress already made in thepreliminaries of this heterogeneous compact.

The following letter from Admiral Payne, written immediately after thereturn of Mr. Fox, contains some further allusions to the negotiationswith the Chancellor:—

"MY DEAR SHERIDAN,

"I am this moment returned with the Prince from riding, and heard, withgreat pleasure, of Charles Fox's arrival; on which account, he says, Imust go to town to-morrow, when I hope to meet you at his house some timebefore dinner. The Prince is to see the Chancellor to-morrow, andtherefore he wishes I should be able to carry to town the result of thisinterview, or I would set off immediately. Due deference is had to ourformer opinion upon this subject, and no courtship will bepractised; for the chief object in the visit is to show him the King, whohas been worse the two last days than ever: this morning he made aneffort to jump out of the window, and is now very turbulent andincoherent. Sir G. Baker went yesterday to give Pitt a little specimen ofhis loquacity, in his discovery of some material state-secrets, at whichhe looked astonished. The Physicians wish him to be removed to Kew; onwhich we shall proceed as we settled. Have you heard any thing of theForeign Ministers respecting what the P. said at Bagshot? The Frenchmanhas been here two days running, but has not seen the Prince. He sat withme half an hour this morning, and seemed much disposed to confer a littleclosely. He was all admiration and friendship for the Prince, and said hewas 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 Ihave none of the apprehensions contained in Lord L.'s letter. I have hadcorrespondence enough myself on this subject to convince me of theimpossibility of the Ministry managing the present Parliament by anycontrivance hostile to the Prince. Dinner is on table; so adieu; and beassured of the truth and sincerity of

"Yours affectionately,

"Windsor, Monday, 5 o'clock, P. M.

"J. W. P.

"I have just got Rodney's proxy sent."

The situation in which Mr. Fox was placed by the treaty thus commenced,before his arrival, with the Chancellor, was not a little embarrassing.In addition to the distaste which he must have felt for such a union, hehad been already, it appears, in some degree pledged to bestow the GreatSeal, in the event of a change, upon Lord Loughborough. Finding, however,the Prince and his party so far committed in the negotiation with LordThurlow, he thought it expedient, however contrary to his own wishes, toaccede to their views; and a letter, addressed by him to Mr. Sheridan onthe 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 writtento Lord Loughborough, whose answer of course must be consent. What is tobe done next? Should the Prince himself, you, or I, or Warren, be theperson to speak to the Chancellor? The objection to the last is, that hemust 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, thenegotiation will not succeed, and am not sure that I am sorry for it. Ido not remember ever feeling so uneasy about any political thing I everdid in my life. Call if you can.

"Yours ever,

"C. J. F."

Sat. past 12.

Lord Loughborough, in the mean time, with a vigilance quickened by hisown personal views, kept watch on the mysterious movements of theChancellor; and, as appears by the following letter, not only saw reasonto suspect duplicity himself, but took care that Mr. Fox and Mr. Sheridanshould share in his distrust:—

"MY DEAR S.

"I was afraid to pursue the conversation on the circ*mstance of theInspection committed to the Chancellor, lest the reflections that ariseupon it might have made too strong an impression on some of our neighborslast night. It does indeed appear to me full of mischief, and of thatsort most likely to affect the apprehensions of our best friends, (ofLord John for instance,) and to increase their reluctance to take anyactive part.

"The Chancellor's object evidently is to make his way by himself, and hehas managed hitherto as one very well practised in that game. Hisconversations, both with you and Mr. Fox, were encouraging, but at thesame time checked all explanations on his part under a pretence ofdelicacy towards his colleagues. When he let them go to Salthill andcontrived to dine at Windsor, he certainly took a step that most menwould have felt not very delicate in its appearance, and unless there wassome private understanding between him and them, not altogether fair;especially if you add to it the sort of conversation he held with regardto them. I cannot help thinking that the difficulties of managing thepatient have been excited or improved to lead to the proposal of hisinspection, (without the Prince being conscious of it,) for by thatsituation he gains an easy and frequent access to him, and an opportunityof possessing the confidence of the Queen. I believe this the more fromthe account of the tenderness he showed at his first interview, for I amsure, it is not in his character to feel any. With a little instructionfrom Lord Hawksbury, the sort of management that was carried on by meansof the Princess-Dowager, in the early part of the reign, may easily bepractised. In short, I think he will try to find the key of the backstairs, and, with that in his pocket, take any situation that preserveshis access, and enables him to hold a line between different parties. Inthe present moment, however, he has taken a position that puts thecommand of the House of Lords in his hands, for * * * * * * *. [Footnote:The remainder of this sentence is effaced by damp]

"I wish Mr. Fox and you would give these considerations what weight youthink they deserve, and try if any means can be taken to remedy thismischief, if it appears in the same light to you.

"Ever yours, &c."

What were the motives that induced Lord Thurlow to break off so suddenlyhis negotiation with the Prince's party, and declare himself with suchvehemence on the side of the King and Mr. Pitt, it does not appear veryeasy to ascertain. Possibly, from his opportunities of visiting the RoyalPatient, he had been led to conceive sufficient hopes of recovery, toincline the balance of his speculation that way; or, perhaps, in theinfluence of Lord Loughborough [Footnote: Lord Loughborough is supposedto have been the person who instilled into the mind of Mr. Fox the ideaof advancing that claim of right for the Prince, which gave Mr. Pitt, inprinciple as well as in fact, such an advantage over him.] over Mr. Fox,he saw a risk of being supplanted in his views on the Great Seal.Whatever may have been the motive, it is certain that his negotiationwith the Whigs had been amicably carried on, till within a few hours ofhis delivery of that speech, from whose enthusiasm the public couldlittle suspect how fresh from the incomplete bargain of defection was thespeaker, and in the course of which he gave vent to the well-knowndeclaration, that "his debt of gratitude to His Majesty was ample, forthe many favors he had graciously conferred upon him, which, when heforgot, might God forget him!" [Footnote: "Forget you!" said Wildes,"he'll see you d—-d first."]

As it is not my desire to imitate those biographers, who swell theirpages with details that belong more properly to History, I shall forbearto enter into a minute or consecutive narrative of the proceedings ofParliament on the important subject of the Regency. A writer of politicalbiography has a right, no doubt, like an engineer who constructs anavigable canal, to lay every brook and spring in the neighborhood undercontribution for the supply and enrichment of his work. But, to turn intoit the whole contents of the Annual Register and Parliamentary Debates isa sort of literary engineering, not quite so laudable, which, after theexample set by a Right Reverend biographer of Mr. Pitt, will hardly againbe attempted by any one, whose ambition, at least, it is to be read aswell as bought.

Mr. Fox and Mr. Pitt, it is well known, differed essentially, not onlywith respect to the form of the proceedings, which the latter recommendedin that suspension of the Royal authority, but also with respect to theabstract constitutional principles, upon which those proceedings of theMinister were professedly founded. As soon as the nature of the malady,with which the King was afflicted, had been ascertained by a regularexamination of the physicians in attendance on His Majesty, Mr. Pittmoved (on the 10th of December), that a "Committee be appointed toexamine and report precedents of such proceedings as may have been had,in case of the personal exercise of the Royal authority being preventedor interrupted, by infancy, sickness, infirmity, or otherwise, with aview to provide for the same." [Footnote: Mr. Burke and Mr. Sheridan wereboth members of this committee, and the following letter from the formerto Sheridan refers to it:—

"MY DEAR SIR,

"My idea was, that on Fox's declaring that the precedents, neitherindividually nor collectively, do at all apply, our attendance ought tohave been merely formal. But as you think otherwise, I shall certainly beat the committee soon after one. I rather think, that they will notattempt to garble: because, supposing the precedents to apply, the majorpart are certainly in their favor. It is not likely that they mean tosuppress,—but it is good to be on our guard.

"Ever most truly yours, &c.

"EDMUND BURKE."

Gerard Street, Thursday Morning.]

It was immediately upon this motion that Mr. Fox advanced thatinconsiderate claim of Right for the Prince of Wales, of which his rivalavailed himself so dexterously and triumphantly. Having asserted thatthere existed no precedent whatever that could bear upon the presentcase, Mr. Fox proceeded to say, that "the circ*mstance to be provided fordid not depend upon their deliberations as a House of Parliament,—itrested elsewhere. There was then a person in the kingdom, different fromany other person that any existing precedents could refer to,—an HeirApparent, of full age and capacity to exercise the royal power. Itbehoved them, therefore, to waste not a moment unnecessarily, but toproceed with all becoming speed and diligence to restore the Sovereignpower and the exercise of the Royal Authority. From what he had read ofhistory, from the ideas he had formed of the law, and, what was stillmore precious, of the spirit of the Constitution, from every reasoningand analogy drawn from those sources, he declared that he had not in hismind a doubt, and he should think himself culpable if he did not take thefirst opportunity of declaring it, that, in the present condition of HisMajesty, His Royal Highness the Prince of Wales had as clear, as expressa Right to exercise the power of Sovereignty, during the continuance ofthe illness and incapacity, with which it had pleased God to afflict HisMajesty, as in the case of His Majesty's having undergone a naturaldemise."

It is said that, during the delivery of this adventurous opinion, thecountenance of Mr. Pitt was seen to brighten with exultation at themistake into which he perceived his adversary was hurrying; and scarcelyhad the sentence, just quoted, been concluded, when, slapping his thightriumphantly, 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, wehave sufficient evidence that such were his feelings in the burst ofanimation and confidence with which he instantly replied to Mr.Fox,—taking his ground, with an almost equal temerity, upon the directlyopposite doctrine, and asserting, not only that "in the case of theinterruption of the personal exercise of the Royal Authority, it devolvedupon the other branches of the Legislature to provide a substitute forthat authority," but that "the Prince of Wales had no more right toexercise the powers of government than any other person in the realm."

The truth is, the assertion of a Right was equally erroneous, onboth sides of the question. The Constitution having provided no legalremedy for such an exigence as had now occurred, the two Houses ofParliament had as little right (in the strict sense of the word) tosupply the deficiency of the Royal power, as the Prince had to be theperson elected or adjudged for that purpose. Constitutional analogy andexpediency were the only authorities by which the measures necessary insuch a conjuncture could be either guided or sanctioned; and if thedisputants on each side had softened down their tone to this true andpractical view of the case, there would have been no material difference,in the first stage of the proceedings between them,—Mr. Pitt beingready to allow that the Heir Apparent was the obvious person to whomexpediency pointed as the depository of the Royal power, and Mr. Foxhaving granted, in a subsequent explanation of his doctrine, that, strongas was the right upon which the claim of the Prince was founded, HisRoyal Highness could not assume that right till it had been formallyadjudicated to him by Parliament. The principle, however, having beenimprudently broached, Mr. Pitt was too expert a tactician not to availhimself of the advantage it gave him. He was thus, indeed, furnished withan opportunity, not only of gaining time by an artful protraction of thediscussions, but of occupying victoriously the ground of Whiggism, whichMr. Fox had, in his impatience or precipitancy, deserted, and of thusadding to the character, which he had recently acquired, of a defender ofthe prerogatives of the Crown, the more brilliant reputation of anassertor of the rights of the people.

In the popular view which Mr. Pitt found it convenient to take of thisquestion, he was led, or fell voluntarily into some glaring errors, whichpervaded the whole of his reasonings on the subject. In his anxiety toprove the omnipotence of Parliament, he evidently confounded the Estatesof the realm with the Legislature, [Footnote: Mr. Grattan and the IrishParliament carried this error still farther, and founded all theirproceedings on the necessity of "providing for the deficiency of theThird Estate."] and attributed to two branches of the latter suchpowers as are only legally possessed by the whole three in Parliamentassembled. For the purpose, too, of flattering the people with the notionthat to them had now reverted the right of choosing their temporarySovereign, he applied a principle, which ought to be reserved for extremecases, to an exigence by no means requiring this ultimate appeal,—thedefect in the government being such as the still existing Estates of therealm, appointed to speak the will of the people, but superseding anydirect exercise of their power, were fully competent, as in the instanceof the Revolution, to remedy. [Footnote: The most luminous view that hasbeen taken of this Question is to be found in an Article of the EdinburghReview, on the Regency of 1811,—written by one of the most learned andable men of our day, Mr. John Allen.]

Indeed, the solemn use of such language as Mr. Pitt, in his over-actedWhiggism, employed upon this occasion,—namely, that the "right" ofappointing a substitute for the Royal power was "to be found in the voiceand the sense of the people,"—is applicable only to those conjunctures,brought on by misrule and oppression, when all forms are lost in thenecessity of relief, and when the right of the people to change andchoose their rulers is among the most sacred and inalienable that eithernature or social polity has ordained. But, to apply the language of thatlast resource to the present emergency was to brandish the sword ofGoliath [Footnote: A simile applied by Lord Somers to the power ofImpeachment, which, he said, "should be like Goliath's sword, kept in thetemple, and not used but upon great occasions."] on an occasion that byno means called for it.

The question of the Prince's claim,—in spite of the efforts of thePrince himself and of his Royal relatives to avert the agitation ofit,—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 gaverise, Mr. Sheridan allowed himself to be betrayed into some expressions,which, considering the delicate predicament in which the Prince wasplaced by the controversy, were not marked with his usual tact andsagacity. In alluding to the claim of Right advanced for His RoyalHighness, and deprecating any further agitation of it, he "reminded theRight Honorable Gentleman (Mr. Pitt) of the danger of provoking thatclaim to be asserted [a loud cry of hear! hear!], which, he observed, hadnot yet been preferred. [Another cry of hear! hear!]" This was the verylanguage that Mr. Pitt most wished his adversaries to assume, and,accordingly, he turned it to account with all his usual mastery andhaughtiness. "He had now," he said, "an additional reason for assertingthe authority of the House, and defining the boundaries of Right, whenthe deliberative faculties of Parliament were invaded, and an indecentmenace thrown out to awe and influence their proceedings. In thediscussion of the question, the House, he trusted, would do their duty,in spite of any threat that might be thrown out. Men, who felt theirnative freedom, would not submit to a threat, however high the authorityfrom which it might come." [Footnote: Impartial Report of all theProceedings on the Subject of the Regency]

The restrictions of the Prerogative with which Mr. Pitt thought proper toencumber the transfer of the Royal power to the Prince, formed the secondgreat point of discussion between the parties, and brought equallyadverse principles into play. Mr. Fox, still maintaining his position onthe side of Royalty, defended it with much more tenable weapons than thequestion of Right had enabled him to wield. So founded, indeed, in thepurest principles of Whiggism did he consider his opposition, on thismemorable occasion, to any limitation of the Prerogative in the hands ofa Regent, that he has, in his History of James II., put those principlesdeliberately upon record, as a fundamental article in the creed of hisparty. The passage to which I allude occurs in his remarks upon theExclusion Bill; and as it contains, in a condensed form, the spirit ofwhat he urged on the same point in 1789, I cannot do better than lay hisown words before the reader. After expressing his opinion that, at theperiod of which he writes, the measure of exclusion from the monarchyaltogether would have been preferable to any limitation of its powers, heproceeds to say:—"The Whigs, who consider the powers of the Crown as atrust for the people, a doctrine which the Tories themselves, when pushedin argument, will sometimes admit, naturally think it their duty ratherto change the manager of the trust than impair the subject of it; whileothers, who consider them as the right or property of the King, will asnaturally act as they would do in the case of any other property, andconsent to the loss or annihilation of any part of it, for the purpose ofpreserving the remainder to him, whom they style the rightful owner."Further on he adds:—"The Royal Prerogative ought, according to theWhigs, to be reduced to such powers as are in their exercise beneficialto the people; and of the benefit of these they will not rashly sufferthe people to be deprived, whether the executive power be in the hands ofan hereditary or of an elective King, of a Regent, or of any otherdenomination of magistrate; while, on the other hand, they who considerPrerogative with reference only to Royalty will, with equal readiness,consent either to the extension or the suspension of its exercise, as theoccasional 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 therepresentatives in the Regency question of 1789, it will strike someminds that, however the Whig may flatter himself that the principle bywhich he is guided in such exigencies is favorable to liberty, andhowever the Tory may, with equal sincerity, believe his suspension of thePrerogative on these occasions to be advantageous to the Crown, yet thatin both of the principles, so defined, there is an evident tendency toproduce effects, wholly different from those which the parties professingthem contemplate.

On the one side, to sanction from authority the notion, that there aresome powers of the Crown which may be safely dispensed with,—to accustomthe people to an abridged exercise of the Prerogative, with the risk ofsuggesting to their minds that its full efficacy needs not beresumed,—to set an example, in short, of reducing the Kingly Power,which, by its success, may invite and authorize still furtherencroachments,—all these are dangers to which the alleged doctrine ofToryism, whenever brought into practice, exposes its idol; and moreparticularly in enlightened and speculative times, when the minds of menare in quest of the right and the useful, and when a superfluity of poweris one of those abuses, which they are least likely to overlook ortolerate. In such seasons, the experiment of the Tory might lead to allthat he most deprecates, and the branches of the Prerogative, once cutaway, might, like the lopped boughs of the fir-tree, never grow again.

On the other hand, the Whig, who asserts that the Royal Prerogative oughtto be reduced to such powers as are beneficial to the people, and yetstipulates, as an invariable principle, for the transfer of thatPrerogative full and unimpaired, whenever it passes into other hands,appears, even more perhaps than the Tory, to throw an obstacle in the wayof his own object. Circ*mstances, it is not denied, may arise when theincrease of the powers of the Crown, in other ways, may render itadvisable to control some of its established prerogatives. But, where arewe to find a fit moment for such a reform,—or what opening will be leftfor it by this fastidious Whig principle, which, in 1680, could see nomiddle step between a change of the Succession and an undiminishedmaintenance of the Prerogative, and which, in 1789, almost upon the heelsof a Declaration that "the power of the Crown had increased and ought tobe diminished," protested against even an experimental reduction of it!

According to Mr. Fox, it is a distinctive characteristic of the Tory, toattach more importance to the person of the King than to his office. But,assuredly, the Tory is not singular in this want of politicalabstraction; and, in England, (from a defect, Hume thinks, inherent inall limited monarchies,) the personal qualities and opinions of theSovereign have considerable influence upon the whole course of publicaffairs,—being felt alike in that courtly sphere around them where theirattraction acts, and in that outer circle of opposition where theirrepulsion comes into play. To this influence, then, upon the governmentand the community, of which no abstraction can deprive the person of themonarch, the Whig principle in question (which seems to considerentireness 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 theRoyal office, and forecloses, so far, the chance which the more pliantTory doctrine would leave open, of counteracting the effects of theKing's indirect personal influence, by curtailing or weakening the graspof some of his direct regal powers. Ovid represents the Deity of Light(and on an occasion, too, which may be called a Regency question) ascrowned with movable rays, which might be put off when too strong ordazzling. But, according to this principle, the crown of Prerogative mustkeep its rays fixed and immovable, and (as the poet expresses it)"circa caput OMNE micantes."

Upon the whole, however high the authorities, by which this Whig doctrinewas enforced in 1789, its manifest tendency, in most cases, to secure aperpetuity of superfluous powers to the Crown, appears to render itunfit, at least as an invariable principle, for any party professing tohave the liberty of the people for their object. The Prince, in hisadmirable Letter upon the subject of the Regency to Mr. Pitt, was made toexpress the unwillingness which he felt "that in his person an experimentshould be made to ascertain with how small a portion of kingly power theexecutive government of the country might be carried on;"—butimagination has not far to go in supposing a case, where the enormouspatronage vested in the Crown, and the consequent increase of a Royalbias through the community, might give such an undue and unsafepreponderance to that branch of the Legislature, as would render any safeopportunity, however acquired, of ascertaining with how much lesspower the executive government could be carried on, most acceptable,in spite of any dogmas to the contrary, to all true lovers as well of themonarchy as of the people.

Having given thus much consideration to the opinions and principles,professed on both sides of this constitutional question, it ismortifying, after all, to be obliged to acknowledge, that, in therelative situation of the two parties at the moment, may be found perhapsthe real, and but too natural, source of the decidedly opposite viewswhich they took of the subject. Mr. Pitt, about to surrender thepossession of power to his rival, had a very intelligible interest inreducing the value of the transfer, and (as a retreating army spike theguns they leave behind) rendering the engines of Prerogative as uselessas possible to his successor. Mr. Fox, too, had as natural a motive tooppose such a design; and, aware that the chief aim of these restrictivemeasures was to entail upon the Whig ministry of the Regent a weakGovernment and strong Opposition, would, of course, eagerly welcome theaid of any abstract principle, that might sanction him in resisting sucha mutilation of the Royal power;—well knowing that (as in the case ofthe Peerage Bill in the reign of George I.) the proceedings altogetherwere actuated more by ill-will to the successor in the trust, than by anysincere zeal for the purity of its exercise.

Had the situations of the two leaders been reversed, it is more thanprobable that their modes of thinking and acting would have been solikewise. Mr. Pitt, with the prospect of power before his eyes, wouldhave been still more strenuous, perhaps, for the unbroken transmission ofthe Prerogative—his natural leaning on the side of power being increasedby his own approaching share in it. Mr. Fox, too, if stopped, like hisrival, in a career of successful administration, and obliged to surrenderup the reins of the state to Tory guidance, might have found in hispopular principles a still more plausible pretext, for the abridgment ofpower in such unconstitutional hands. He might even too, perhaps, (as hisIndia Bill warrants us in supposing) have been tempted into the same sortof alienation of the Royal patronage, as that which Mr. Pitt nowpractised in the establishment of the Queen, and have taken care to leavebehind him a stronghold of Whiggism, to facilitate the resumption of hisposition, whenever an opportunity might present itself. Such is humannature, even in its noblest specimens, and so are the strongest spiritsshaped by the mould in which chance and circ*mstances have placed them.

Mr. Sheridan spoke frequently in the Debates on this question, but hismost important agency lay in the less public business connected with it.He was the confidential adviser of the Prince throughout, directed everystep he took, and was the author of most of his correspondence on thesubject. There is little doubt, I think, that the celebrated and masterlyLetter to Mr. Pitt, which by some persons has been attributed to Burke,and by others to Sir Gilbert Elliot (afterwards Lord Minto), wasprincipally the production of Mr. Sheridan. For the supposition that itwas written by Burke there are, besides the merits of the production, butvery scanty grounds. So little was he at that period in those habits ofconfidence with the Prince, which would entitle him to be selected forsuch a task in preference to Sheridan, that but eight or ten days beforethe date of this letter (Jan. 2.) he had declared in the House ofCommons, that "he knew as little of the inside of Carlton House as he didof Buckingham House." Indeed, the violent state of this extraordinaryman's temper, during the whole of the discussions and proceedings on theRegency, would have rendered him, even had his intimacy with the Princebeen closer, an unfit person for the composition of a document, requiringso much caution, temper, and delicacy.

The conjecture that Sir Gilbert Elliot was the author of it is somewhatmore plausible,—that gentleman being at this period high in the favor ofthe Prince, and possessing talents sufficient to authorize the suspicion(which was in itself a reputation) that he had been the writer of acomposition so admirable. But it seems hardly necessary to go farther, inquest of its author, than Mr. Sheridan, who, besides being known to haveacted the part of the Prince's adviser through the whole transaction, isproved by the rough copies found among his papers, to have writtenseveral other important documents connected with the Regency.

I may also add that an eminent statesman of the present day, who was atthat 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 notforgot the lessons of that school from which this able productionemanated, remembers having heard some passages of the Letter discussed inBruton-street, as if it were then in the progress of composition, and hasalways, I believe, been under the impression that it was principally thework of Mr. Sheridan. [Footnote: To this authority may be added also thatof the Bishop of Winchester, who says,—"Mr. Sheridan was supposed tohave been materially concerned in drawing up this admirable composition."]

I had written thus far on the subject of this Letter—and shall leavewhat I have written as a memorial of the fallacy of suchconjectures—when, having still some doubts of my correctness inattributing the honor of the composition to Sheridan, I resolved to askthe opinion of my friend, Sir James Mackintosh, a person above all othersqualified, by relationship of talent, to recognize and hold parley withthe mighty spirit of Burke, in whatever shape the "Royal Dane" mayappear. The strong impression on his mind—amounting almost tocertainty—was that no other hand but that of Burke could have writtenthe greater part of the letter; [Footnote: It is amusing to observe howtastes differ;—the following is the opinion entertained of this letterby a gentleman, who, I understand, and can easily believe, is an oldestablished Reviewer. After mentioning that it was attributed to the penof Burke, he adds,—"The story, however, does not seem entitled to muchcredit, for the internal character of the paper is too vapid and heavyfor the genius of Burke, whose ardent mind would assuredly have diffusedvigor into the composition, and the correctness of whose judgment wouldas certainly have preserved it from the charge of inelegance andgrammatical deficiency."—DR. WATKINS, Life of Sheridan. Such, innine cases out of ten, are the periodical guides of public taste.] and bya more diligent inquiry, in which his kindness assisted me, it has beenascertained 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 ofthe paper, confirms beyond a doubt the fact, that it was written almostsolely by Burke:—

"January 31st, 1789.

"There was not a word of the Prince's letter to Pitt mine. It wasoriginally Burke's, altered a little, but not improved, by Sheridan andother critics. The answer made by the Prince yesterday to the Address ofthe two Houses was entirely mine, and done in a great hurry half an hourbefore it was to be delivered."

While it is with regret I give up the claim of Mr. Sheridan to this finespecimen of English composition, it but adds to my intense admiration ofBurke—not on account of the beauty of the writing, for his fame requiredno such accession—but from that triumph of mind over temper which itexhibits—that forgetfulness of Self, the true, transmigratingpower of genius, which enabled him thus to pass his spirit into thestation of Royalty, and to assume all the calm dignity, both of style andfeeling, that became it.

It was to be expected that the conduct of Lord Thurlow at this periodshould draw down upon him all the bitterness of those who were in thesecret of his ambidextrous policy, and who knew both his disposition todesert, and the nature of the motives that prevented him. To Sheridan, inparticular, such a result of a negotiation, in which he had been theprincipal mover and mediator, could not be otherwise than deeplymortifying. Of all the various talents with which he was gifted, hisdexterity in political intrigue and management was that of which heappears to have been most vain; and this vanity it was that, at a laterperiod of his life, sometimes led him to branch off from the main body ofhis party, upon secret and solitary enterprises of ingenuity, which—asmay be expected from all such independent movements of apartisan—generally ended in thwarting his friends and embarrassinghimself.

In the debate on that clause of the Bill, which restricted the Regentfrom granting places or pensions in reversion, Mr. Sheridan isrepresented as having attacked Lord Thurlow in terms of the mostunqualified severity,—speaking of "the natural ferocity and sturdinessof his temper," and of "his brutal bluffness." But to such abuse,unseasoned by wit, Mr. Sheridan was not at all likely to havecondescended, being well aware that, "as in smooth oil the razor best isset," so satire is whetted to its most perfect keenness by courtesy. Hisclumsy reporters have, in this, as in almost all other instances,misrepresented him.

With equal personality, but more playfulness, Mr. Burke, in exposing thatwretched fiction, by which the Great Seal was converted into the ThirdBranch 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 adeliquium? It was intended, he had heard, to set up a man withblack brows and a large wig, a kind of scare-crow to the two Houses, whowas to give a fictitious assent in the royal name—and this to be bindingon the people at large!" The following remarkable passage, too, in asubsequent Speech, is almost too well known to be cited:—"The otherHouse," he said, "were not yet perhaps recovered from that extraordinaryburst of the pathetic which had been exhibited the other evening; theyhad not yet dried their eyes, or been restored to their former placidity,and were unqualified to attend, to new business. The tears shed in thatHouse on the occasion to which he alluded, were not the tears of patriotsfor dying laws, but of Lords for their expiring places. The iron tears,which flowed down Pluto's cheek, rather resembled the dismal bubbling ofthe Styx, than the gentle murmuring streams of Aganippe."

While Lord Thurlow was thus treated by the party whom he had so nearlyjoined, he was but coldly welcomed back by the Minister whom he had sonearly deserted. His reconciliation, too, with the latter was by no meanseither sincere or durable,—the renewal of friendship betweenpoliticians, on such occasions, being generally like that which theDiable Boiteux describes, as having taken place between himself and abrother sprite,—"We were reconciled, embraced, and have hated each otherheartily ever since."

In the Regency, indeed, and the transactions connected with it, may befound the source of most of those misunderstandings and enmities, whichbroke out soon after among the eminent men of that day, and were attendedwith consequences so important to themselves and the country. By thedifference just mentioned, between Mr. Pitt and Lord Thurlow, theministerial arrangements of 1793 were facilitated, and the learned Lord,after all his sturdy pliancy, consigned to a life of ineffectualdiscontent ever after.

The disagreement between Mr. Burke and Mr. Fox, if not actuallyoriginating now—and its foundation had been, perhaps, laid from thebeginning, in the total dissimilarity of their dispositions andsentiments—was, at least, considerably ripened and accelerated by theevents of this period, and by the discontent that each of them, likepartners in unsuccessful play, was known to feel at the mistakes whichthe other had committed in the game. Mr. Fox had, unquestionably, everyreason to lament as well as blame the violence and virulence by which hisassociate had disgraced the contest. The effect, indeed, produced uponthe public by the irreverent sallies of Burke, and by the too evidenttriumph, both of hate and hope, with which he regarded the calamitoussituation of the King, contributed not a little to render still lower thealready low temperature of popularity at which his party stood throughoutthe country. It seemed as if a long course of ineffectual struggle inpolitics, of frustrated ambition and unrewarded talents, had at lengthexasperated his mind to a degree beyond endurance; and the extravagancesinto which he was hurried in his speeches on this question, appear tohave been but the first workings of that impatience of a losing cause—that resentment of failure, and disgust at his partners in it—whichsoon afterwards found such a signal opportunity of exploding.

That Mr. Burke, upon far less grounds, was equally discontented with hisco-operators in this emergency, may be collected from the followingpassage of a letter addressed by him in the summer of this year to LordCharlemont, and given by Hardy in his Memoirs of that nobleman:—

"Perpetual failure, even though nothing in that failure can be fixed onthe 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 endswithout success and without reputation. In fact, a constant pursuit evenof the best objects, without adequate instruments, detracts somethingfrom the opinion of a man's judgment. This, I think, may be in part thecause of the inactivity of others of our friends who are in the vigor oflife and in possession of a great degree of lead and authority. I do notblame them, though I lament that state of the public mind, in which thepeople can consider the exclusion of such talents and such virtues fromtheir service, as a point gained to them. The only point in which I canfind any thing to blame in these friends, is their not taking theeffectual means, which they certainly had in their power, of making anhonorable retreat from their prospect of power into the possession ofreputation, by an effectual defence of themselves. There was anopportunity which was not made use of for that purpose, and which couldscarcely have failed of turning the tables on their adversaries."

Another instance of the embittering influence of these transactions maybe traced in their effects upon Mr. Burke and Mr. Sheridan—between whomthere had arisen a degree of emulation, amounting to jealousy, which,though hitherto chiefly confined to one of the parties, received on thisoccasion such an addition of fuel, as spread it equally through the mindsof both, and conduced, in no small degree, to the explosion thatfollowed. Both Irishmen, and both adventurers in a region so muchelevated above their original station, it was but natural that some suchfeeling should kindle between them; and that, as Burke was alreadymid-way in his career, when Sheridan was but entering the field, thestirrings, whether of emulation or envy, should first be felt by thelatter. It is, indeed, said that in the ceremonial of Hastings's Trial,the privileges enjoyed by Burke, as a Privy-councillor, were regardedwith evident uneasiness by his brother Manager, who could not as yetboast the distinction of Right Honorable before his name. As soon,however, as the rapid run of Sheridan's success had enabled him toovertake his veteran rival, this feeling of jealousy took possession infull force of the latter,—and the close relations of intimacy andconfidence, to which Sheridan was now admitted both by Mr. Fox and thePrince, are supposed to have been not the least of those causes ofirritation and disgust, by which Burke was at length driven to break withthe party altogether, and to show his gigantic strength at parting, bycarrying 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 inthe times and transactions of which we are speaking, may be added thatslight, but too visible cloud of misunderstanding, which arose betweenMr. Fox and Mr. Sheridan, and which, though it never darkened into anything serious, continued to pervade their intercourse with each other tothe last—exhibiting itself, on the part of Mr. Fox, in a degree ofdistrustful reserve not natural to him, and, on the side of Sheridan, insome of those counter-workings of influence, which, as I have alreadysaid, he was sometimes induced by his love of the diplomacy of politicsto practise.

Among the appointments named in contemplation of a Regency, the place ofTreasurer of the Navy was allotted to Mr. Sheridan. He would never,however, admit the idea of certainty in any of the arrangements sosanguinely calculated upon, but continually impressed upon his impatientfriends the possibility, if not probability, of the King's recovery. Hehad even refused to look at the plan of the apartments, which he himselfwas to occupy in Somerset House; and had but just agreed that it shouldbe sent to him for examination, on the very day when the King wasdeclared convalescent by Dr. Warren. "He entered his own house (to usethe words of the relater of the anecdote) at dinner-time with the news.There were present,—besides Mrs. Sheridan and his sister,—Tickell, who,on the change of administration, was to have been immediately broughtinto Parliament,—Joseph Richardson, who was to have had Tickell's placeof Commissioner of the Stamp-office,—Mr. Reid, and some others. Not oneof the company but had cherished expectations from the approachingchange—not one of them, however, had lost so much as Mr. Sheridan. Withhis wonted equanimity he announced the sudden turn affairs had taken, andlooking round him cheerfully, as he filled a large glass, said,—'Let usall join in drinking His Majesty's speedy recovery.'"

The measures which the Irish Parliament adopted on this occasion, wouldhave been productive of anomalies, both theoretical and practical, hadthe continued illness of the King allowed the projected Regency to takeplace. As it was, the most material consequence that ensued was thedismissal from their official situations of Mr. Ponsonby and otherpowerful individuals, by which the Whig party received such an accessionof strength, as enabled them to work out for their country the fewblessings of liberty that still remain to her. Among the victims to theirvotes on this question was Mr. Charles Sheridan, who, on the recovery ofthe King, was dismissed from his office of Secretary of War, but receivedcompensation by a pension of 1200_l_. a year, with the reversion of300_l_. a year to his wife.

The ready and ardent burst of devotion with which Ireland, at thismoment, like the Pythagoreans at their morning worship, turned to welcomewith her Harp the Rising Sun, was long remembered by the object of herhomage with pride and gratitude,—and, let us trust, is not even yetentirely forgotten. [Footnote: This vain hope was expressed before thelate decision on the Catholic question had proved to the Irish that,where their rights are concerned, neither public nor private pledges areregarded.]

It has already been mentioned that to Mr. Sheridan, at this period, wasentrusted the task of drawing up several of the State Papers of theHeir-Apparent. From the rough copies of these papers that have falleninto my hands, I shall content myself with selecting two Letters—thefirst of which was addressed by the Prince to the Queen, immediatelyafter the communication to her Majesty of the Resolution of the twoHouses placing the Royal Household under her control.

"Before Your Majesty gives an answer to the application for your Royalpermission to place under Your Majesty's separate authority the directionand appointment of the King's household, and thereby to separate from thedifficult and arduous situation which I am unfortunately called upon tofill, the accustomed and necessary support which has ever belonged to it,permit me, with every sentiment of duty and affection towards YourMajesty, to entreat your attentive perusal of the papers which I have thehonor to enclose. They contain a sketch of the plan now proposed to becarried into execution as communicated to me by Mr. Pitt, and thesentiments which I found myself bound in duty to declare in reply to thatcommunication. I take the liberty of lodging these papers in YourMajesty's hands, confiding that, whenever it shall please Providence toremove the malady with which the King my father is now unhappilyafflicted, Your Majesty will, in justice to me and to those of the Royalfamily whose affectionate concurrence and support I have received, takethe earliest opportunity of submitting them to his Royal perusal, inorder that no interval of time may elapse before he is in possession ofthe true motives and principles upon which I have acted. I here solemnlyrepeat to Your Majesty, that among those principles there is not onewhich influences my mind so much as the firm persuasion I have, that myconduct in endeavoring to maintain unimpaired and undivided the justrights, prerogatives, and dignity of the Crown, in the person of theKing's representative, is the only line of conduct which would entitle meto His Majesty's approbation, or enable me to stand with confidence inhis Royal presence on the happy day of his recovery;—and, on thecontrary, that those who, under color of respect and attachment to hisRoyal person, have contrived this project for enfeebling and degradingthe executive authority of the realm, will be considered by him as havingrisked the happiness of his people and the security of the throne itself,by establishing a fatal precedent which may hereafter be urged againsthis own authority, on as plausible pretences, or revived against the justrights of his family. In speaking my opinions of the motive of theprojectors of this scheme, I trust I need not assure Your Majesty thatthe respect, duty, and affection I owe to Your Majesty have neversuffered me for a single moment to consider you as countenancing, in theslightest degree, their plan or their purposes. I have the firmestreliance on Your Majesty's early declaration to me, on the subject ofpublic affairs, at the commencement of our common calamity; and, whatevermay be the efforts of evil or interested advisers, I have the sameconfidence that you will never permit or endure that the influence ofyour respected name shall be profaned to the purpose of distressing thegovernment and insulting the person of your son. How far those, who areevidently pursuing both these objects, may be encouraged by YourMajesty's acceptance of one part of the powers purposed to be lodged inyour hands, I will not presume to say. [Footnote: In speaking of theextraordinary imperium in imperio, with which the command of somuch power and patronage would have invested the Queen, the AnnualRegister (Robinson's) remarks justly, "It was not the least extraordinarycirc*mstance in these transactions, that the Queen could be prevailedupon to lend her name to a project which would eventually have placed herin avowed rivalship with her son, and, at a moment when her attentionmight seem to be absorbed by domestic calamity, have established her atthe head of a political party."] The proposition has assumed the shape ofa Resolution of Parliament, and therefore I am silent.

"Your Majesty will do me the honor to weigh the opinions I formed anddeclared before Parliament had entertained the plan, and, with thosebefore you, your own good judgment will decide. I have only to add thatwhatever that decision may be, nothing will ever alter the interest oftrue 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, announcingthe intention of His Royal Highness to submit to His Majesty a Memorial,in vindication of his own conduct and that of his Royal brother the Dukeof York throughout the whole of the proceedings consequent upon HisMajesty's indisposition.

"SIR,

"Thinking it probable that I should have been honored with your commandsto attend Your Majesty on Wednesday last, I have unfortunately lost theopportunity of paying my duty to Your Majesty before your departure fromWeymouth. The account? I have received of Your Majesty's health havegiven me the greatest satisfaction, and should it be Your Majesty'sintention to return to Weymouth, I trust, Sir, there will be noimpropriety in my then entreating Your Majesty's graciousattention 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 equallyinterested. Your Majesty's letter to my brother the Duke of Clarence, inMay last, was the first direct intimation I had ever received that myconduct, and that of my brother the Duke of York, during Your Majesty'slate lamented illness, had brought on us the heavy misfortune of YourMajesty's displeasure. I should be wholly unworthy the return of YourMajesty's confidence and good opinion, which will ever be the firstobjects of my life, if I could have read the passage I refer to in thatletter without the deepest sorrow and regret for the effect produced onYour Majesty's mind; though at the same time I felt the firmestpersuasion that Your Majesty's generosity and goodness would never permitthat effect to remain, without affording us an opportunity ofknowing what had been urged against us, of replying to our accusers, andof justifying ourselves, if the means of justification were in our power.

"Great however as my impatience and anxiety were on this subject, I feltit a superior consideration not to intrude any unpleasing or agitatingdiscussions upon Your Majesty's attention, during an excursion devoted tothe ease and amusem*nt necessary for the re-establishment of YourMajesty's health. I determined to sacrifice my own feelings, and to waitwith resignation till the fortunate opportunity should arrive, when YourMajesty's own paternal goodness would, I was convinced, lead you even toinvite your sons to that fair hearing, which your justice wouldnot deny to the meanest individual of your subjects. In this painfulinterval I have employed myself in drawing up a full statement andaccount of my conduct during the period alluded to, and of the motivesand circ*mstances which influenced me. When these shall be humblysubmitted to Your Majesty's consideration, I may be possibly found tohave erred in judgment, and to have acted on mistaken principles, but Ihave the most assured conviction that I shall not be found to have beendeficient in that duteous affection to Your Majesty which nothing shallever diminish. Anxious for every thing that may contribute to the comfortand satisfaction of Your Majesty's mind, I cannot omit this opportunityof lamenting those appearances of a less gracious disposition in theQueen, towards my brothers and myself, than we were accustomed toexperience; and to assure Your Majesty that if by your affectionateinterposition these most unpleasant sensations should be happily removed,it would be an event not less grateful to our minds than satisfactory toYour Majesty's own benign disposition. I will not longer. &c. &c.

"G. P."

The Statement here announced by His Royal Highness (a copy of which Ihave seen, occupying, with its Appendix, near a hundred folio pages), issupposed to have been drawn up by Lord Minto.

To descend from documents of such high import to one of a much humblernature, the following curious memorial was presented this year to Mr.Sheridan, by a literary gentleman whom the Whig party thought it worthwhile to employ in their service, and who, as far as industry went,appears to have been not unworthy of his hire, Simonides is said to bethe first author that ever wrote for pay, but Simonides little dreamt ofthe perfection to which his craft would one day be brought.

Memorial for Dr. W. T., [Footnote: This industrious Scotchman (ofwhose name I have only given the initials) was not without some share ofhumor. On hearing that a certain modern philosopher had carried hisbelief in the perfectibility of all living things so far, as to say thathe did not despair of seeing the day when tigers themselves might beeducated, Dr. T. exclaimed, "I should like dearly to see him in a cagewith two of his pupils!"]

Fitzroy-street, Fitzroy-Chapel.

"In May, 1787, Dr. Parr, in the name of his political friends, engagedDr. T. to embrace those opportunities, which his connections withbooksellers and periodical publications might afford him, of supportingthe principles of their party. Mr. Sheridan in August, 1787, gave twonotes, 50_l_. each, to Dr. T. for the first year's service, whichnotes were paid at different periods—the first by Mr. Sheridan atBrookes's, in January, 1788, the second by Mr. Windham in May, 1788. Mr.Sheridan, in different conversations, encouraged Dr. T. to go on with theexpectation of a like sum yearly, or 50_l_. half yearly. Dr. T. withthis encouragement engaged in different publications for the purpose ofthis agreement. He is charged for the most part with the Political andHistorical articles in the Analytic Review, and he also occasionallywrites the Political Appendix to the English Review, of whichparticularly he wrote that for April last, and that for June last. Healso every week writes an abridgment of Politics for the WhitehallEvening Post, and a Political Review every month for a Sunday paperentitled the Review and Sunday Advertiser. In a Romance, entitled'Mammoth, or Human Nature Displayed, &c.,' Dr. T. has shown how mindfulhe is on all occasions of his engagements to those who confide in him. Hehas also occasionally moved other engines, which it would be tedious andmight appear too trifling to mention. Dr. T. is not ignorant thatuncommon charges have happened in the course of this last year, that is,the year preceding May, 1789. Instead of 100_l_., therefore, he willbe satisfied with 50_l_ for that year, provided that this abatementshall not form a precedent against his claim of 100_l_. annually, ifhis further services shall be deemed acceptable. There is one point onwhich Dr. T. particularly reserved himself, namely, to make no attack onMr. 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 circ*mstances that concurred toglorify this period of Sheridan's life, we may allow ourselves, I think,to pause upon it as the apex of the pyramid, and, whether we consider hisfame, his talents, or his happiness, may safely say, "Here is theirhighest point."

The new splendor which his recent triumphs in eloquence had added to areputation already so illustrious,—the power which he seemed to haveacquired over the future destinies of the country, by his acknowledgedinfluence in the councils of the Heir Apparent, and the tribute paid tohim, by the avowal both of friends and foes, that he had used thisinfluence in the late trying crisis of the Regency, with a judgment anddelicacy that proved him worthy of it,—all these advantages, bothbrilliant and solid, which subsequent circ*mstances but too much tendedto weaken, at this moment surrounded him in their newest lustre andpromise.

He was just now, too, in the first enjoyment of a feeling, of which habitmust have afterwards dulled the zest, namely, the proud consciousness ofhaving surmounted the disadvantages of birth and station, and placedhimself on a level with the highest and noblest of the land. This footingin the society of the great he could only have attained by parliamentaryeminence;—as a mere writer, with all his genius, he never would havebeen thus admitted ad eundem among them. Talents, in literature orscience, unassisted by the advantages of birth, may lead to associationwith the great, but rarely to equality;—it is a passport through thewell-guarded frontier, but no title to naturalization within. By him, whohas not been born among them, this can only be achieved by politics. Inthat arena, which they look upon as their own, the Legislature of theland, let a man of genius, like Sheridan, but assert his supremacy,—atonce all these barriers of reserve and pride give way, and he takes, bystorm, a station at their side, which a Shakspeare or a Newton would buthave enjoyed by courtesy.

In fixing upon this period of Sheridan's life, as the most shining aeraof his talents as well as his fame, it is not meant to be denied that inhis subsequent warfare with the Minister, during the stormy time of theFrench Revolution, he exhibited a prowess of oratory no less suited tothat actual service, than his eloquence on the trial of Hastings had beento such lighter tilts and tournaments of peace. But the effect of histalents was far less striking;—the current of feeling through Englandwas against him;—and, however greatly this added to the merit of hisefforts, it deprived him of that echo from the public heart, by which thevoice of the orator is endued with a sort of multiplied life, and, as itwere, survives itself. In the panic, too, that followed the FrenchRevolution, all eloquence, but that from the lips of Power, wasdisregarded, and the voice of him at the helm was the only one listenedto in the storm.

Of his happiness, at the period of which we are speaking, in the midst ofso much success and hope, there can be but little doubt. Though pecuniaryembarrassment, as appears from his papers, had already begun to weave itsfatal net around him, there was as yet little more than sufficed to giveexercise to his ingenuity, and the resources of the Drury-Lane treasurywere still in full nightly flow. The charms, by which his home wasembellished, were such as few other homes could boast; and, if any thingmade it less happy than it ought to be, the cause was to be found in thevery brilliancy of his life and attractions, and in those triumphs out ofthe sphere of domestic love, to which his vanity, perhaps, oftener thanhis feelings, impelled him.

Among his own immediate associates, the gaiety of his spirits amountedalmost to boyishness. He delighted in all sorts of dramatic tricks anddisguises; and the lively parties, with which his country-house wasalways filled, were kept in momentary expectation of some new device fortheir mystification or amusem*nt. [Footnote: To give some idea of theyouthful tone of this society, I shall mention one out of many anecdotesrelated to me by persons who themselves been ornaments of it. The ladieshaving one evening received the gentlemen in masquerade dresses, whichwith their obstinate silence, made it impossible to distinguish one fromthe other, the gentlemen, in their turn invited the ladies next evening,to a similar trial of conjecture on themselves; and notice being giventhat they were ready dressed, Mrs. Sheridan and her companions wereadmitted into the dining room, where they found a party of Turks, sittingsilent and masked around the table. After a long course of the usualguesses, examinations, &c, &c., and each lady having taken the arm of theperson she was most sure of, they heard a burst of laughter through thehalf open door, and looking there, saw the gentlemen themselves in theirproper person—the masks upon whom they had been lavishing theirsagacity being no other than the maid servants of the house, who had beenthus dressed up to deceive them.] It was not unusual to dispatch a manand horse seven or eight miles for a piece of crape or a mask, or someother such trifle for these frolics. His friends Tickell and Richardson,both men of wit and humor, and the former possessing the same degree oflight animal spirits as himself, were the constant companions of all hissocial hours, and kept up with him that ready rebound of pleasantry,without which the play of wit languishes.

There is a letter, written one night by Richardson at Tunbridge[Footnote: In the year 1790, when Mrs. Sheridan was trying the waters ofTunbridge for her health. In a letter to Sheridan's sister from thisplace, dated September 1790, she says: "I drink the waters once a day,and ride and drive all the forenoon, which makes me ravenous when Ireturn. I feel I am in very good health, and I am in high beauty, twocirc*mstances which ought and do put me in high good humor."] (afterwaiting five long hours for Sheridan,) so full of that mixture ofmelancholy and humor, which chequered the mind of this interesting man,that, as illustrative of the character of one of Sheridan's most intimatefriends, 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. Perhapsthere is a sympathy between the corporeal and the mind's eye. In theTemple I can't see far before me, and seldom extend my speculations onthings to come into any fatiguing sketch of reflection.—From yourwindow, however, there was a tedious scope of black atmosphere, that Ithink won my mind into a sort of fellow-travellership, pacing me againthrough the cheerless waste of the past, and presenting hardly one littlerarified cloud to give a dim ornament to the future;—not a star to beseen;—no permanent light to gild my horizon;—only the fading helps totransient 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 controlof one's cares by a successful opposition, [Footnote: Richardson wasremarkable for his love of disputation; and Tickell, when hard pressed byhim in argument, used often, as a last resource, to assume the voice andmanner of Mr. Fox, which he had the power of mimicking so exactly, thatRichardson confessed he sometimes stood awed and silenced by theresemblance.

This disputatious humor of Richardson was once turned to account bySheridan in a very characteristic manner. Having had a hackney-coach inemploy for five or six hours, and not being provided with the means ofpaying it, he happened to espy Richardson in the street, and proposed totake him in the coach some part of his way. The offer being accepted,Sheridan lost no time in starting a subject of conversation, on which heknew his companion was sure to become argumentative and animated. Having,by well-managed contradiction, brought him to the proper pitch ofexcitement, he affected to grow impatient and angry, himself, and sayingthat "he could not think of staying in the same coach with a person thatwould use such language," pulled the check-string, and desired thecoachman to let him out. Richardson, wholly occupied with the argument,and regarding the retreat of his opponent as an acknowledgment of defeat,still pressed his point, and even hollowed "more last words" through thecoach-window after Sheridan, who, walking quietly home, left the poordisputant responsible for the heavy fare of the coach.] nor a softerenemy to soothe one into an oblivion of them.

"It is damned foolish for ladies to leave their scissors about;—thefrail thread of a worthless life is soon snipped. I wish to God my fatehad been true to its first destination, and made a parson of me;—Ishould have made an excellent country Joll. I think I can, withconfidence, pronounce the character that would have been given of me:—Hewas an indolent good-humored man, civil at all times, and hospitable atothers, namely, when he was able to be so, which, truth to say, happenedbut seldom. His sermons were better than his preaching, and his doctrinebetter than his life; though often grave, and sometimes melancholy, henevertheless loved a joke,—the more so when overtaken in his cups,which, a regard to the faith of history compels us to subjoin, fell outnot unfrequently. He had more thought than was generally imputed to him,though it must be owned no man alive ever exercised thought to so littlepurpose. Rebecca, his wife, the daughter of an opulent farmer in theneighborhood of his small living, brought him eighteen children; and henow rests with those who, being rather not absolutely vicious thanactively good, confide in the bounty of Providence to strike a mildaverage between the contending negations of their life, and to allow themin their future state, what he ordained them in this earthly pilgrimage,a snug neutrality and a useless repose.—I had written thus far,absolutely determined, under an irresistible influence of the megrims, toset off for London on foot, when, accidentally searching for acardialgic, to my great delight, I discovered three fugitive sixpences,headed by a vagrant shilling, immerged in the heap in my waistcoatpocket. This discovery gave an immediate elasticity to my mind; and Ihave therefore devised a scheme, worthier the improved state of myspirits, namely, to swindle your servants out of a horse, under thepretence of a ride upon the heath, and to jog on contentedly homewards.So, under the protection of Providence, and the mercy of footpads, Itrust we shall meet again to-morrow; at all events, there is nothinghuffish 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; for I hadworked myself, in five hours solitude, into such a state of nervousmelancholy, that I found I could not help the meanness of crying, even ifany one looked me in the face. I am anxious to avoid a regular convictionof so disreputable an infirmity;—besides, the night has become quitepleasant."

Between Tickell and Sheridan there was a never-ending "skirmish of wit,"both verbal and practical; and the latter kind, in particular, wascarried on between them with all the waggery, and, not unfrequently, themalice of school-boys. [Footnote: On one occasion, Sheridan havingcovered the floor of a dark passage, leading from the drawing room, withall the plates and dishes of the house, ranged closely together, provokedhis unconscious play-fellow to pursue him into the midst of them. Havingleft a path for his own escape, he passed through easily, but Tickell,falling at full length into the ambuscade, was very much cut in severalplaces. The next day, Lord John Townshend, on paying a visit to thebed-side of Tickell, found him covered over with patches, and indignantlyvowing vengeance against Sheridan for this unjustifiable trick. In themidst of his anger, however, he could not help exclaiming, with the truefeeling of an amateur of this sort of mischief, "but how amazingly welldone it was!"] Tickell, much less occupied by business than his friend,had always some political jeux d'esprit on the anvil; andsometimes these trifles were produced by them jointly. The followingstring of pasquinades so well known in political circles, and written, asthe reader will perceive, at different dates, though principally bySheridan, owes some of its stanzas to Tickel, and a few others, Ibelieve, to Lord John Townshend. I have strung together, without regardto chronology, the best of these detached lampoons. Time having removedtheir venom, and with it, in a great degree, their wit, they are now,like dried snakes, mere harmless objects of curiosity.

"Johnny W—lks, Johnny W—lks, [1]
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 King,'
Johnny W-lks,
And your blasphemy, 'God save the King.'"

"Jack Ch—ch—ll, Jack Ch—ch—ll,
The town sure you search ill,
Your mob has disgraced all your brags;
When next you draw out
Your hospital rout,
Do, prithee, afford them clean rags,
Jack Ch—ch—ll,
Do, prithee, afford them clean rags."

"Captain K—th, Captain K—th,
Keep your tongue 'twixt your teeth,
Lest bed-chamber tricks you betray;
And, if teeth you want more,
Why, my bold Commodore,—
You may borrow of Lord G—ll—y,
Captain K—th,
You may borrow of Lord G—ll—y."

[2]"Joe 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.
Nor the Westminster Whigs,
That your Knighthood should utter one word,
Joe M—wb—y,
That your Knighthood should utter one word."

"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 O—gl—y, Lord O—gl—y,
You spoke mighty strongly—
Who you are, tho', all people admire!
But I'll let you depart,
For I believe in my heart,
You had rather they did not inquire,
Lord O—gl—y,
You had rather they did not inquire."

"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-turvy,
Of this truth you're the fittest attester;
For, who can deny
That the Low become High,
When the King makes a Lord of Silvester,
Gl—nb—e,
When the King makes a Lord of Silvester."

"Mr. P—l, Mr. P—l,
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—l,
For honors you'll now drive a job."

"Oh poor B—ks, oh poor B—ks,
Still 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—l—y, dull H—l—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."

[Footnote 1: In Sheridan's copy of the stanzas written by him in thismetre at the time of the Union, (beginning "Zooks, Harry! zooks, Harry!")he entitled them, "An admirable new ballad, which goes excellently wellto the tune of

"Mrs. Arne, Mrs. Arne,
It gives me concern," &c.]

[Footnote 2: This stanza and, I rather think, the next were by Lord John
Townshend.]

There are about as many more of these stanzas, written at differentintervals, according as new victims, with good names for rhyming,presented themselves,—the metre being a most tempting medium for suchlampoons. There is, indeed, appended to one of Sheridan's copies of them,a long list (like a Tablet of Proscription), containing about fifteenother names marked out for the same fate; and it will be seen by thefollowing specimen that some of them had a very narrow escape:

"Will C—rt—s…."

"V—ns—t—t, V—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 [Footnote: As I have beenmentioning some instances of Sheridan's love of practical jests, I shalltake this opportunity of adding one more anecdote, which I believe ispretty well known, but which I have had the advantage of hearing from theperson on whom the joke was inflicted.

The Rev. Mr. O'B—— (afterwards Bishop of ——) having arrived to dinnerat Sheridan's country-house, near Osterley, where, as usual, a gay partywas collected, (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 histalents as a preacher in the village church. On his objecting that he wasnot provided with a sermon, his host offered to write one for him, if hewould consent to preach it; and, the offer being accepted, Sheridan leftthe company 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 ofthe discourse being the "Abuse of Riches." Having read it over andcorrected some theological errors, (such as "it is easier for a camel,as Moses says," &c.) he delivered the sermon in his mostimpressive style, much to the delight of his own party, and to thesatisfaction, as he unsuspectingly flattered himself, of all the rest ofthe congregation, among whom was Mr. Sheridan's wealthy neighbor Mr. C——

Some months afterwards, however, Mr. O'B—— perceived that the family ofMr. C——, with whom he had previously been intimate, treated him withmarked coldness; and, on his expressing some innocent wonder at thecirc*mstance, was at length informed, to his dismay, by General Burgoyne,that the sermon which Sheridan had written for him was, throughout, apersonal attack upon Mr. C——, who had at that time rendered himselfvery unpopular in the neighborhood by some harsh conduct to the poor, andto whom every one in the church, except the unconscious preacher, appliedalmost every sentence of the sermon.] that Sheridan and his two friendsdrew upon their joint wits; they had also but too much to do withsubjects of a far different nature)—with debts, bonds, judgments, writs,and all those other humiliating matters of fact, that bring Law and Witso often and so unnaturally in contact. That they were serviceable toeach other, in their defensive alliance against duns, is fully proved byvarious documents; and I have now before me articles of agreement, datedin 1787, by which Tickell, to avert an execution from the Theatre, boundhimself as security for Sheridan in the sum of 250_l_.,—thearrears of an annuity charged upon Sheridan's moiety of the property. Sosoon did those pecuniary difficulties, by which his peace and characterwere afterwards undermined, begin their operations.

Yet even into transactions of this nature, little as they are akin tomirth, the following letter of Richardson will show that these brotherwits 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 toyou by Francois. I have so far succeeded that he has agreed to continuethe day of trial as we call it (that is, in vulgar, unlearnedlanguage, to put it off) from Tuesday till Saturday. He demands, aspreliminaries, that Wright's bill of 500_l_. should be given up tohim, as a prosecution had been commenced against him, which, however, hehas stopped by an injunction from the Court of Chancery. This, if thetransaction be as he states it, appears reasonable enough. He insists,besides, that the bill should undergo the most rigid examination; thatyou should transmit your objections, to which he will send answers, (forthe point of a personal interview has not been yet carried,) and that thewhole amount at last, whatever it may be, should have your clear andsatisfied approbation:—nothing to be done without this—almighty honor!

"All these things being done, I desired to know what was to be the resultat last:—'Surely, after having carried so many points, you will think itonly common decency to relax a little as to the time of payment? You willnot cut your pound of flesh the nearest from the merchant's heart?' Tothis Bobides, 'I must have 2000_l_. put in a shape of practicableuse, and payment immediately;—for the rest I will accept security.' Thiswas 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 beendone, however, by this meeting. It has opened an access to a favorableadjustment, and time and trust may do much. I am to see him again onMonday morning at two, so pray don't go out of town to-morrow without myseeing you. The matter is of immense consequence. I never knew tillto-day that the process had been going on so long. I am convinced hecould force you to trial next Tuesday with all your infirmities greenupon your head; so pray attend to it.

"R. B. Sheridan, Esq.

"Yours ever,

"Lower Grosvenor-Street.

"J. RICHARDSON."

This letter was written in the year 1792, when Sheridan's involvementshad begun to thicken around him more rapidly. There is another letter,about the same date, still more characteristic,—where, after beginningin evident anger and distress of mind, the writer breaks off, as ifirresistibly, into the old strain of 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 life.Westly, after having told me for the last three weeks that nothing waswanting for my accommodation but your consent, having told me so, so lateas Friday, sends me word on Monday that he would not do it at all. Infour days I have a cognovit expires for 200_l_. I can'tsuffer my family to be turned into the streets if I can help it. I haveno resource but my abilities, such as they are. I certainly mean to writesomething in the course of the summer. As a matter of business andbargain I can have no higher hope about it than that you won'tsuffer by it. However, if you won't take it somebody else must,for no human consideration will induce me to leave any means untried,that may rescue my family from this impending misfortune.

"For the sake of convenience you will probably give me the importance ofconstruing this into an incendiary letter. I wish to God you may, andorder your treasurer to deposit the acceptance accordingly; for nothingcan be so irksome to me as that the nations of the earth should thinkthere had been any interruption of friendship between you and me; andthough that would not be the case in fact, both being influenced, I mustbelieve, by a necessity which we could not control, yet the said nationswould so interpret it. If I don't hear from you before Friday, I shallconclude that you leave me in this dire scrape to shift for myself.

"R. B. Sheridan, Esq.

"Yours ever,

"Isleworth, Middlesex.

"J. RICHARDSON."

Diben, Friday, 22d.

CHAPTER IV.

FRENCH REVOLUTION.—MR. BURKE.—HIS BREACH WITH MR.SHERIDAN.—DISSOLUTION OF PARLIAMENT.—MR. BURKE AND MR. FOX.—RUSSIANARMAMENT.—ROYAL SCOTCH BOROUGHS.

We have now to consider the conduct and opinions of Mr. Sheridan, duringthe measures and discussions consequent upon the French Revolution,—anevent, by which the minds of men throughout all Europe were thrown into astate of such feverish excitement, that a more than usual degree oftolerance should be exercised towards the errors and extremes into whichall parties were hurried during the paroxysm. There was, indeed, no rankor class of society, whose interests and passions were not deeplyinvolved in the question. The powerful and the rich, both of State andChurch, must naturally have regarded with dismay the advance of apolitical heresy, whose path they saw strewed over with the brokentalismans of rank and authority. Many, too, with a disinterestedreverence for ancient institutions, trembled to see them thus approachedby rash hands, whose talents for ruin were sufficiently certain, butwhose powers of reconstruction were yet to be tried. On the other hand,the easy triumph of a people over their oppressors was an example whichcould not fail to excite the hopes of the many as actively as the fearsof the few. The great problem of the natural rights of mankind seemedabout to be solved in a manner most flattering to the majority; the zealof the lover of liberty was kindled into enthusiasm, by a conquestachieved for his cause upon an arena so vast; and many, who before wouldhave smiled at the doctrine of human perfectibility, now imagined theysaw, in what the Revolution performed and promised, almost enough tosanction the indulgence of that splendid dream. It was natural, too, thatthe greater portion of that unemployed, and, as it were, homeless talent,which, in all great communities, is ever abroad on the wing, uncertainwhere to settle, should now swarm round the light of the newprinciples,—while all those obscure but ambitious spirits, who felttheir aspirings clogged by the medium in which they were sunk, would asnaturally welcome such a state of political effervescence, as mightenable them, like enfranchised air, to mount at once to the surface.

Amidst all these various interests, imaginations, and fears, which werebrought to life by the dawn of the French Revolution, it is notsurprising that errors and excesses, both of conduct and opinion, shouldbe among the first products of so new and sudden a movement of the wholecivilized world;—that the friends of popular rights, presuming upon thetriumph that had been gained, should, in the ardor of pursuit, push onthe vanguard of their principles, somewhat farther than was consistentwith prudence and safety; or that, on the other side, Authority and itssupporters, alarmed by the inroads of the Revolutionary spirit, shouldbut the more stubbornly intrench themselves in established abuses, andmake the dangers they apprehended from liberty a pretext for assailingits very existence.

It was not long before these effects of the French Revolution began toshow themselves very strikingly in the politics of England; and,singularly enough, the two extreme opinions, to which, as I have justremarked, that disturbing event gave rise, instead of first appearing, asmight naturally be expected, the one on the side of Government, and theother on that of the Opposition, both broke out simultaneously in thevery heart of the latter body.

On such an imagination as that of Burke, the scenes now passing in Francewere every way calculated to make a most vivid impression. So susceptiblewas he, indeed, of such impulses, and so much under the control of theimaginative department of his intellect, that, whatever might have beenthe accidental mood of his mind, at the moment when this astounding eventfirst burst upon him, it would most probably have acted as a sort ofmental catalepsy, and fixed his reason in the very attitude in which itfound it. He had, however, been prepared for the part which he now tookby much more deep and grounded causes. It was rather from circ*mstancesthan from choice, or any natural affinity, that Mr. Burke had everattached himself to the popular party in politics. There was, in truth,nothing democratic about him but his origin;—his tastes were all on theside of the splendid and the arbitrary. The chief recommendation of thecause of India to his fancy and his feeling was that it involved the fateof ancient dynasties, and invoked retribution for the downfall of thronesand princedoms, to which his imagination, always most affected by objectsat a distance, lent a state and splendor that did not, in sober reality,belong to them. Though doomed to make Whiggism his habitual haunt, hetook his perch at all times on its loftiest branches, as far as possibleaway from popular contact; and, upon most occasions, adopted a sort ofbaronial view of liberty, as rather a question lying between the Throneand the Aristocracy, than one in which the people had a right to anyefficient voice or agency. Accordingly, the question of ParliamentaryReform, from the first moment of its agitation, found in him a mostdecided opponent.

This inherent repugnance to popular principles became naturallyheightened into impatience and disgust, by the long and fruitless warfarewhich he had waged under their banner, and the uniform ill success withwhich they had blasted all his struggles for wealth and power. Nor was hein any better temper with his associates in the cause,—having found thatthe ascendancy, which he had formerly exercised over them, and which, insome degree, consoled him for the want of official dominion, was of lateconsiderably diminished, if not wholly transferred to others. Sheridan,as has been stated, was the most prominent object of his jealousy;—andit is curious to remark how much, even in feelings of this description,the aristocratical bias of his mind betrayed itself. For, though Mr. Fox,too, had overtaken and even passed him in the race, assuming that stationin politics which he himself had previously held, yet so paramount didthose claims of birth and connection, by which the new leader camerecommended, appear in his eyes, that he submitted to be superseded byhim, not only without a murmur, but cheerfully. To Sheridan, however, whohad no such hereditary passport to pre-eminence, he could not give waywithout heart burning and humiliation; and to be supplanted thus by arival son of earth seemed no less a shock to his superstitious notionsabout 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 Revolution found the mindof this remarkable man;—and, powerfully as they would, at any time, haveappealed to his imagination and prejudices, the state of irritability towhich he had been wrought by the causes already enumerated peculiarlypredisposed him, at this moment, to give way to such impressions withoutrestraint, and even to welcome as a timely relief to his pride, themighty vent thus afforded to the "splendida bilis" with which itwas charged.

There was indeed much to animate and give a zest to the new part which henow took. He saw those principles, to which he owed a deep grudge, forthe time and the talents he had wasted in their service, now embodied ina shape so wild and alarming, as seemed to justify him, on grounds ofpublic safety, in turning against them the hole powers of his mind, andthus enabled him, opportunely, to dignify desertion, by throwing thesemblance of patriotism and conscientiousness round the reality ofdefection and revenge. He saw the party, too, who, from the moment theyhad ceased to be ruled by him, were associated only in his mind withrecollections of unpopularity and defeat, about to adopt a line ofpolitics which his long knowledge of the people of England, and hissagacious foresight of the consequences of the French Revolution, fullyconvinced him would lead to the same barren and mortifying results. Onthe contrary, the cause to which he proffered his alliance, would, he wasequally sure, by arraying on its side all the rank, riches, and religionof 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 thislatter hope, indeed, of a speedy triumph over Jacobinism, histemperament, as was often the case, outran his sagacity; for, while heforesaw clearly that the dissolution of social order in France would atlast harden into a military tyranny, he appeared not to be aware that theviolent measures which he recommended against her would not only hastenthis formidable result, but bind the whole mass of the people into unionand resistance during the process.

Lastly—To these attractions, of various kinds, with which the cause ofThrones 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 inducements to his change,—and thiswas the strong claim upon the gratitude of government, which hisseasonable and powerful advocacy in a crisis so difficult established forhim, and which the narrow and embarrassed state of his circ*mstancesrendered an object by no means of secondary importance in his views.Unfortunately,—from a delicate wish, perhaps, that the reward shouldnot appear to come in too close coincidence with the service,—thepension bestowed upon him arrived too late to admit of his deriving muchmore from it than the obloquy by which it was accompanied.

The consequence, as is well known, of the new course taken by Burke wasthat the speeches and writings which he henceforward produced, and inwhich, as usual, his judgment was run away with by his temper, form acomplete contrast, in spirit and tendency, to all that he had put onrecord in the former part of his life. He has, indeed, left behind himtwo separate and distinct armories of opinion, from which both Whig andTory may furnish themselves with weapons, the most splendid, if not themost highly tempered, that ever Genius and Eloquence have condescended tobequeath to Party. He has thus too, by his own personal versatility,attained, in the world of politics, what Shakspeare, by the versatilityof his characters, achieved for the world in general,—namely, such auniversality of application to all opinions and purposes, that it wouldbe difficult for any statesman of any party to find himself placed in anysituation, for which he could not select some golden sentence from Burke,either to strengthen his position by reasoning or illustrate and adorn itby, fancy. While, therefore, our respect for the man himself isdiminished by this want of moral identity observable through his life andwritings, we are but the more disposed to admire that unrivalled genius,which could thus throw itself out in so many various directions withequal splendor and vigor. In general, political deserters lose theirvalue and power in the very act, and bring little more than their treasonto the new cause which they espouse:—

"Fortis in armis Caesaris Labienus erat; nunc transfuga vilis."

But Burke was mighty in either camp; and it would have taken twogreat men to effect what he, by this division of himself achieved. Hismind, indeed, lies parted asunder in his works, like some vast continentsevered by a convulsion of nature,—each portion peopled by its own giantrace of opinions, differing altogether in features and language, andcommitted in eternal hostility with each other.

It was during the discussions on the Army Estimates, at the commencementof the session of 1790, that the difference between Mr. Burke and hisparty in their views of the French Revolution first manifested itself.Mr. Fox having taken occasion to praise the late conduct of the FrenchGuards in refusing to obey the dictates of the Court, and having declaredthat he exulted, "both from feelings and from principles," in thepolitical change that had been brought about in that country, Mr. Burke,in answering him, entered fully, and, it must be owned, most luminouslyinto the question,—expressing his apprehension, lest the example ofFrance, which had, at a former period, threatened England with thecontagion of despotism, should now be the means of introducing among herpeople the no less fatal taint of Democracy and Atheism. After someeloquent tributes of admiration to Mr. Fox, rendered more animated,perhaps, by the consciousness that they were the last offerings throwninto the open grave of their friendship, he proceeded to deprecate theeffects which the language of his Right Honorable Friend might have, inappearing to countenance the disposition observable among "some wickedpersons" to "recommend an imitation of the French spirit of Reform," andthen added a declaration, equally remarkable for the insidious chargewhich it implied against his own party, and the notice of his approachingdesertion which it conveyed to the other,—that "so strongly opposed washe to any the least tendency towards the means of introducing ademocracy 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 believing 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 uphis mind as to the course he should pursue, and but delayed hisdeclaration of a total breach, in order to prepare the minds of thepublic for such an event, and, by waiting to take advantage of somemoment of provocation, make the intemperance of others responsible forhis own deliberate schism. The reply of Mr. Fox was not such as couldafford this opportunity;—it was, on the contrary, full of candor andmoderation, and repelled the implied charge of being a favorer of the newdoctrines of France in the most decided, but, at the same time, mostconciliatory terms.

"Did such a declaration," he asked, "warrant the idea that he was afriend to Democracy? He declared himself equally the enemy of allabsolute forms of government, whether an absolute Monarchy, an absoluteAristocracy, or an absolute Democracy. He was adverse to all extremes,and a friend only to a mixed government like our own, in which, if theAristocracy, or indeed either of the three branches of the Constitution,were destroyed, the good effect of the whole, and the happiness derivedunder it would, in his mind, be at an end."

In returning, too, the praises bestowed upon him by his friend, he madethe following memorable and noble acknowledgment of all that he himselfhad gained by their intercourse:—

"Such (he said) was his sense of the judgment of his Right HonorableFriend, such his knowledge of his principles, such the value which he setupon them, and such the estimation in which he held his friendship, thatif he were to put all the political information which he had learned frombooks, all which he had gained from science, and all which any knowledgeof the world and its affairs had taught him, into one scale, and theimprovement which he had derived from his Right Honorable Friend'sinstruction and conversation were placed in the other, he should be at aloss to decide to which to give the preference."

This, from a person so rich in acquirements as Mr. Fox, was the veryhighest praise,—nor, except in what related to the judgment andprinciples of his friend, was it at all exaggerated. The conversation ofBurke must have been like the procession of a Roman triumph, exhibitingpower and riches at every step—occasionally, perhaps, mingling the lowFescennine jest with the lofty music of its march, but glittering allover with the spoils of the whole ransacked world.

Mr. Burke, in reply, after reiterating his praises of Mr. Fox, and thefull confidence which he felt in his moderation and sagacity, professedhimself perfectly satisfied with the explanations that had been given.The conversation would thus have passed off without any explosion, hadnot Sheridan, who was well aware that against him, in particular, thecharge of a tendency to the adoption of French principles was directed,risen immediately after, and by a speech warmly in favor of theRevolution and of the National Assembly, at once lighted the train in themind 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 inalmost every word that be had uttered respecting the French Revolution.He conceived it to be as just a Revolution as ours, proceeding upon assound a principle and as just a provocation. He vehemently defended thegeneral views and conduct of the National Assembly. He could not evenunderstand what was meant by the charges against them of havingoverturned the laws, the justice, and the revenues of their country. Whatwere their laws? the arbitrary mandates of capricious despotism. Whattheir justice? the partial adjudications of venal magistrates. What theirrevenues? national bankruptcy. This he thought the fundamental error ofhis Right Honorable Friend's argument, that he accused the NationalAssembly of creating the evils, which they had found existing in fulldeformity at the first hour of their meeting. The public creditor hadbeen defrauded; the manufacturer was without employ; trade waslanguishing; famine clung upon the poor; despair on all. In thissituation, the wisdom and feelings of the nation were appealed to by thegovernment; and was it to be wondered at by Englishmen, that a people, socirc*mstanced, should search for the cause and source of all theircalamities, or that they should find them in the arbitrary constitutionof their government, and in the prodigal and corrupt administration oftheir revenues? For such an evil when proved, what remedy could beresorted to, but a radical amendment of the frame and fabric of theConstitution itself? This change was not the object and wish of theNational Assembly only; it was the claim and cry of all France, united asone man for one purpose."

All this is just and unanswerable—as indeed was the greater part of thesentiments which he uttered. But he seems to have failed, even moresignally than Mr. Fox, in endeavoring to invalidate the masterly viewwhich Burke had just taken of the Revolution of 1688, as compared, in itsmeans and object, with that of France. There was, in truth, but littlesimilarity between them,—the task of the former being to preserveliberty, that of the latter to destroy tyranny; the one being a regulatedmovement of the Aristocracy against the Throne for the Nation, the othera 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 firstplausible opportunity of a rupture. He declared that "henceforth, hisHonorable Friend and he were separated in politics,"—complained that hisarguments had been cruelly misrepresented, and that "the HonorableGentleman had thought proper to charge him with being the advocate ofdespotism." 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 itwhat he ought to have expected in the moment of departedfriendship? On the contrary, was it not evident that the HonorableGentleman had made a sacrifice of his friendship, for the sake ofcatching some momentary popularity? If the fact were such, even greatlyas he should continue to admire the Honorable Gentleman's talents, hemust tell him that his argument was chiefly an argument adinvidiam, and all the applause for which he could hope from clubs wasscarcely worth the sacrifice which he had chosen to make for soinsignificant an acquisition."

I have given the circ*mstances of this Debate somewhat in detail, notonly on account of its own interest and of the share which Mr. Sheridantook in it, but from its being the first scene of that great politicalschism, which in the following year assumed a still more serious aspect,and by which the policy of Mr. Pitt at length acquired a predominance,not speedily to be forgotten in the annals of this country.

Mr. Sheridan was much blamed for the unseasonable stimulant which, it wasthought, his speech on this occasion had administered to the temper ofBurke; nor can it be doubted that he had thereby, in some degree,accelerated the public burst of that feeling which had so long beentreasured up against himself But, whether hastened or delayed, such abreach was ultimately inevitable; the divergence of the parties oncebegun, it was in vain to think of restoring their parallelism. That someof their friends, however, had more sanguine hopes appears from an effortwhich was made, within two days after the occurrence of this remarkablescene, to effect a reconciliation between Burke and Sheridan. Theinterview that took place on that occasion is thus described by Mr.Dennis O'Brien, one of the persons chiefly instrumental in thearrangements for it:—

"It appeared to the author of this pamphlet [Footnote: Entitled "UtrumHorum."] that the difference between these two great men would be a greatevil to the country and to their own party. Full of this persuasion hebrought them both together the second night after the original contest inthe House of Commons; and carried them to Burlington House to Mr. Fox andthe Duke of Portland, according to a previous arrangement. Thisinterview, which can never be forgotten by those who were present, lastedfrom ten o'clock at night until three in the morning, and afforded a veryremarkable display of the extraordinary talents of the parties."

It will easily be believed that to the success of this conciliatoryeffort the temper on one side would be a greater obstacle than even thehate on both. Mr. Sheridan, as if anxious to repel from himself thesuspicion 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, forwhose talents and personal virtue he had the highest esteem, veneration,and regard, and with whom he might be allowed to differ in opinion uponthe subject of France, persuaded, as he was, that they never could differin principle." Of this and some other compliments of a similar nature,Mr. Burke did not deign to take the slightest notice—partly, from animplacable feeling towards him who offered them, and partly, perhaps,from a suspicion that they were intended rather for the ears of thepublic than his own, and that, while this tendency to conciliationappeared on the surface, the under-current of feeling and influence setall the other way.

Among the measures which engaged the attention of Mr. Sheridan duringthis session, the principal was a motion of his own for the repeal of theExcise Duties on Tobacco, which appears to have called forth a more thanusual portion of his oratory,—his speeches on the subject occupyingnearly forty pages. It is upon topics of this unpromising kind, and fromthe very effort, perhaps, to dignity and enliven them, that the peculiarcharacteristics of an orator are sometimes most racily brought out. Tothe Cider Tax we are indebted for one of the grandest bursts of theconstitutional spirit and eloquence of Lord Chatham; and, in theseorations of Sheridan upon Tobacco, we find examples of the two extremevarieties of his dramatic talent—both of the broad, natural humor of hisfarce, and the pointed, artificial wit of his comedy. For instance, inrepresenting, as one of the abuses that might arise from thediscretionary power of remitting fines to manufacturers, the danger thatthose only should feel the indulgence, who were found to be supporters ofthe existing administration, [Footnote: A case of this kind formed thesubject of a spirited Speech of Mr. Windham, in 1792. See his Speeches,vol. i. p. 207.] he says:—

"Were a man whose stock had increased or diminished beyond the standardtable in the Act, to attend the Commissioners and assure them that theweather alone had caused the increase or decrease of the article, andthat no fraud whatever had been used on the occasion, the Commissionersmight say to him, 'Sir, you need not give yourself so much trouble toprove your innocence;—we see honesty in your orange cape.' But should aperson of quite a different side in politics attend for the same purpose,the Commissioners might say, 'Sir, you are not to be believed; we seefraud in your blue and buff, and it is impossible that you should not bea smuggler."

Again, in stating the case between the manufacturers and the Minister,the former of whom objected to the Bill altogether, while the latterdetermined to preserve its principle and only alter its form, he says:—

"The manufacturers ask the Right Honorable Gentleman, if he will consentto give up the principle? The Right Honorable Gentleman answers, 'No; theprinciple must not be abandoned, but do you inform me how I shall alterthe Bill.' This the manufacturers refused; and they wisely refused it inhis opinion; for, what was it but the Minister's saying, 'I have a yoketo put about your necks,—do you help me in fitting it on—only assistme with your knowledge of the subject, and I'll fit you with theprettiest pair of fetters that ever were seen in the world.'"

As a specimen of his quaint and far-sought witticisms, the followingpassage in the same speech may vie with Trip's "Post-Obit on the blue andsilver, &c."—Having described the effects of the weather in increasingor decreasing the weight of the stock, beyond the exact standardestablished in the Act, he adds,

"The Commissioners, before they could, in justice, levy such fines, oughtto ascertain that the weather is always in that precise state of heat orcold which the Act supposed it would be. They ought to make Christmasgive security for frost, take a bond for hot weather from August, andoblige damps and fogs to take out permits."

It was in one of these speeches on the Tobacco Act, that he adverted withconsiderable warmth to a rumor, which, he complained, had beenmaliciously circulated, of a misunderstanding between himself and theDuke of Portland, in consequence (as the Report expresses it) of "acertain opposition affirmed to have been made by this Noble Duke, to someviews or expectations which he (Mr. Sheridan) was said to haveentertained." After declaring that "there was not in these rumors onegrain of truth," he added that—

"He would not venture to state to the Committee the opinion that theNoble Duke was pleased to entertain of him, lest he should be accused ofvanity in publishing what he might deem highly flattering. All that hewould assert on this occasion was, that if he had it in his power to makethe man whose good opinion he should most highly prize think flatteringlyof him, he would have that man think of him precisely as the Noble Dukedid, and then his wish on that subject would be most amply gratified."

As it is certain, that the feelings which Burke entertained towardsSheridan were now in some degree shared by all those who afterwardsseceded from the party, this boast of the high opinion of the Duke ofPortland must be taken with what, in Heraldry, is calledAbatement—that is, a certain degree of diminution of theemblazonry.

Among the papers of Mr. Sheridan, I find a letter addressed to him thisyear by one of his most distinguished friends, relative to the motionsthat had lately been brought forward for the relief of the Dissenters.The writer, whose alarm for the interest of the Church had somewhatdisturbed his sense of liberality and justice, endeavors to impress uponMr. Sheridan, and through him upon Mr. Fox, how undeserving theDissenters were, as a political body, of the recent exertions on theirbehalf, and how ungratefully they had more than once requited theservices which the Whigs had rendered them. For this latter charge therewas but too much foundation in truth, however ungenerous might be thededuction which the writer would draw from it. It is, no doubt, naturalthat large bodies of men, impatiently suffering under the ban ofdisqualification, should avail themselves, without much regard to personsor party, of every aid they can muster for their cause, and should (touse the words of an old Earl of Pembroke) "lean on both sides of thestairs to get up." But, it is equally natural that the occasionaldesertion and ingratitude, of which, in pursuit of this selfish policy,they are but too likely to be guilty towards their best friends, should,if not wholly indispose the latter to their service, at leastconsiderably moderate their zeal in a cause, where all parties alike seemto be considered but as instruments, and where neither personalpredilections nor principle are regarded in the choice of means. To thegreat credit, however, of the Whig party, it must be said, that, thoughoften set aside and even disowned by their clients, they have rarelysuffered their high duty, as advocates, to be relaxed or interrupted bysuch momentary suspensions of confidence. In this respect, the cause ofIreland has more than once been a trial of their constancy. Even LordNorth was able, by his reluctant concessions, to supersede them for atime in the favor of my too believing countrymen,—whose despair offinding justice at any hands has often led them thus to carry theirconfidence to market, and to place it in the hands of the first plausiblebidder. The many vicissitudes of popularity which their own illustriousWhig, Grattan, had to encounter, would have wearied out the ardor of anyless magnanimous champion. But high minds are as little affected by suchunworthy returns for services, as the sun is by those fogs which theearth throws up between herself and his light.

With respect to the Dissenters, they had deserted Mr. Fox in his greatstruggle with the Crown in 1784, and laid their interest and hopes at thefeet of the new idol of the day. Notwithstanding this, we find him, inthe year 1787, warmly maintaining, and in opposition to his rival, thecause of the very persons who had contributed to make that rivaltriumphant,—and showing just so much remembrance of their late defectionas served to render this sacrifice of personal to public feelings moresignal. "He was determined," he said, "to let them know that, though theycould upon some occasions lose sight of their principles of liberty, hewould not upon any occasion lose sight of his principles of toleration."In the present session, too, notwithstanding that the great organ of theDissenters, Dr. Price, had lately in a sermon, published with a view tothe Test, made a pointed attack on the morals of Mr. Fox and his friends,this generous advocate of religious liberty not the less promptly accededto the request of the body, that he would himself bring the motion fortheir relief before the House.

On the 12th of June the Parliament was dissolved,—and Mr. Sheridan againsucceeded in being elected for Stafford. The following letters, however,addressed to him by Mrs. Sheridan during the election, will prove thatthey were not without some apprehensions of a different result. Theletters are still more interesting, as showing how warmly alive to eachother's feelings the hearts of both husband wife could remain, after thelong lapse of near twenty years, and after trials more fatal to love thaneven time itself.

"This letter will find you, my dear Dick. I hope, encircled with honorsat Stafford. I take it for granted you entered it triumphantly on Sunday,—but I am very impatient to hear the particulars, and of the utterdiscomfiture of S—— and his followers. I received your note fromBirmingham this morning, and am happy to find that you and my dear cubwere well, so far on your journey. You could not be happier than I shouldbe in the proposed alteration for Tom, but we will talk more of this whenwe meet. I sent you Cartwright yesterday, and to-day I pack you off Perrywith the soldiers. I was obliged to give them four guineas for theirexpenses. I send you, likewise, by Perry, the note from Mrs. Crewe, toenable you to speak of your qualification if you should be called upon.So I think I have executed all your commissions, Sir; and if you want anyof these doubtful votes which I mentioned to you, you will have timeenough to send for them, for I would not let them go till I hear they canbe of any use.

"And, now for my journal, Sir, which I suppose you expect. Saturday, Iwas at home all day busy for you,—kept Mrs. Reid to dinner,—went to theOpera,—afterwards to Mrs. St. John's, where I lost my money sadly,Sir,—eat strawberries and cream for supper,—sat between Lord Salisburyand Mr. Meynell, (hope you approve of that, Sir,)—overheard LordSalisbury 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 comehome till past two. Sunday, called on Lady Julia,—father and Mr. Reid todinner,—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 isestablished in my boudoir, and, when I have finished this, I am goingwith him to hear Abbé Vogler play on the Stafford organ. I have promisedto dine with Mrs. Crewe, who is to have a female party only,—noobjection to that, I suppose. Sir? Whatever the party do, I shall do ofcourse,—I suppose it will end in Mrs. Hobart's. Mr. James told me onSaturday, and I find it is the report of the day, that Bond Hopkins hasgone to Stafford. I am sorry to tell you there is an opposition at York,Mr. Montague opposes Sir Willam Milner. Mr. Beckford has given up atDover, and Lord ** is so provoked at it, that he has given up too, thoughthey 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 setany body up against him. You know, I suppose, Mr. Crewe has likewise anopponent. 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 wealthand independence, and consider politics merely as an amusem*nt,—and inthat light 'tis best to be in Opposition, which I am afraid we are likelyto be for some years again.

"I see the rumors of war still continue—Stocks continue to fall—is thatgood or bad for the Ministers? The little boys are come home to meto-day. I could not help showing in my answer to Mr. T's letter, that Iwas hurt at his conduct,—so I have got another flummery letter, and theboys, who (as he is pretty sure) will be the best peace-makers. God blessyou, my dear Dick. I am very well, I assure you; pray don't neglect towrite to your ever affectionate

"E. S."

"MY DEAREST DICK,

"Wednesday.

"I am full of anxiety and fright about you.—I cannot but think yourletters are very alarming. Deuce take the Corporation! is it impossibleto make them resign their pretensions, and make peace with the Burgesses?I have sent Thomas after Mr. co*cker. I suppose you have sent for theout-votes; but, if they are not good, what a terrible expense will thatbe!—however, they are ready. I saw Mr. co*cker yesterday,—he collectedthem together last night, and gave them a treat,—so they are in highgood humor. I inclose you a letter which B. left here last night,—Icould not resist opening it. Every thing seems going wrong. I think. Ithought he was not to do anything in your absence.—It strikes me the badbusiness he mentions was entirely owing to his own stupidity, and want ofa little patience,—is it of much consequence? I don't hear that thereport is true of Basilico's arrival;—a messenger came to the Spanishembassy, which gave rise to this tale, I believe.

"If you were not so worried, I should scold you for the conclusion ofyour letter of to-day. Might not I as well accuse you of coldness, fornot filling your letter with professions, at a time when your head mustbe 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 mytime, and all to please you,—so don't, dear Dick, lay so much stress onwords. I should use them oftener, perhaps, but I feel as if it would looklike deceit. You know me well enough, to be sure that I can never do whatI'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 advertisem*nt to-day in the papers;—whatdo you think of that to complete the thing? Bishop Dixon has just calledfrom the hustings:—he says the late Recorder. Adair, proposed Charleswith 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, proposedhimself,—abused both the candidates, and said he should have beenashamed to have sat and heard such ill-deserved praises given him. But hetold the crowd that, since so many of these fine virtues andqualifications had never yet done them the least good, they might as wellnow choose a candidate without them. He said, however, that if they weresincere 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 dealof laughing and noise in the course of his speech. Charles Fox attemptedto answer him, and so did Lord Hood,—but they would hear neither, andthey are now polling away.

"Do, my dearest love, if you have possibly time, write me a few moreparticulars, for your letters are very unsatisfactory, and I am full ofanxiety. Make Richardson write,—what has he better to do? God blessthee, 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 thepoll when I left it was, Fox, 260; Hood, 75; Home Tooke, 17! But he stillpersists in his determination of polling a man an hour for the wholetime—I saw Mr. Wilkes go up to vote for Tooke and Hood, amidst thehisses and groans of a multitude,"

"My poor Dick, how you are worried! This is the day.—you will easilyguess how anxious I shall be; but you seem pretty sanguine yourself,which is my only comfort, for Richardson's letter is rather croaking. Youhave never said a word of little Monkton:—has he any chance, or none? Iask questions without considering that, before you receive this, everything will be decided—I hope triumphantly for you. What a sad set ofvenal rascals your favorites the Blacks must be, to turn so suddenly fromtheir professions and promises! I am half sorry you have any thing moreto do with them, and more than ever regret you did not stand forWestminster with Charles, instead of Lord John;—in that case you wouldhave come in now, and we should not have been persecuted by this HorneTooke. However, it is the dullest contested election that ever wasseen—no canvassing, no houses open, no co*ckades. But I heard that areport prevails now, that Horne Tooke polling so few the two or threefirst days is an artful trick to put the others off their guard, and thathe means to pour in his votes on the last days, when it will be too latefor 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 thepoll there, Thursday night, was as follows:—Gipps, 220; Lord * *, 211;Sir T. Honeywood, 216; Mr. Warton, 163. We have got two members forWendover, and two at Ailsbury. Mr. Barham is beat at Stockbridge. Mr.Tierney says he shall be beat, owing to Bate Dudley's manoeuvres, and theDissenters having all forsaken him,—a set of ungrateful wretches. E.Fawkener has just sent me a state of the poll at Northampton, as it stoodyesterday, when they adjourned to dinner:—Lord Compton, 160; Bouverie,98; Colonel Manners, 72. They are in hopes Mr. Manners will give up, thisis all my news, Sir.

"We had a very pleasant musical party last night at Lord Erskine's, whereI supped. I am asked to dine to-day with Lady Palmerston, at Sheen; but Ican't go, unless Mrs. Crewe will carry me, as the coach is gone to haveits new lining. I have sent to ask her, for 'tis a fine day, and I shouldlike 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 hisaid, where such a lively reinforcement was much wanted, on the hustingsat Westminster. The contest here was protracted to the 2d of July; and itrequired no little exercise both of wit and temper to encounter the coolpersonalities of Tooke, who had not forgotten the severe remarks ofSheridan upon his pamphlet the preceding year, and who, in addition tohis strong powers of sarcasm, had all those advantages which, in such acontest, contempt for the courtesies and compromises of party warfaregives. Among other sallies of his splenetic humor it is related, that Mr.Fox having, upon one occasion, retired from the hustings, and left toSheridan the task of addressing the multitude, Tooke remarked, that suchwas always the practice of quack-doctors, who, whenever they quit thestage themselves, make it a rule to leave their merry-andrews behind.[Footnote: Tooke, it is said, upon coming one Monday morning to thehustings, was thus addressed by a pietism of his opponent, not of a veryreputable character—"Well, Mr. Tooke, you will have all the blackguardswith you to day"—"I am delighted to hear it, Sir," (said Tooke, bowing,)"and from such good authority."]

The French Revolution still continued, by its comet-like course, todazzle, alarm, and disturb all Europe. Mr. Burke had published hiscelebrated "Reflections" in the month of November, 1790; and never didany work, with the exception, perhaps, of the Eikon Basilike, producesuch a rapid, deep, and general sensation. The Eikon was the book of aKing, and this might, in another sense, be called the Book of Kings. Notonly in England, but throughout all Europe,—in every part of whichmonarchy was now trembling for its existence,—this lofty appeal toloyalty was heard and welcomed. Its effect upon the already totteringWhig party was like that of "the Voice," in the ruins of Rome,"disparting towers." The whole fabric of the old Rockingham confederacyshook to its base. Even some, who afterwards recovered their equilibrium,at first yielded to the eloquence of this extraordinary book,—which,like the aera of chivalry, whose loss it deplores, mixes a grandeur witherror, and throws a charm round political superstition, that will longrender its pages a sort of region of Royal romance, to which fancy willhave recourse for illusions that have lost their last hold on reason.

The undisguised freedom with which Mr. Fox and Mr. Sheridan expressedevery where their opinions of this work and its principles had, ofcourse, no small influence on the temper of the author, and, while itconfirmed him in his hatred and jealousy of the one, prepared him for thebreach which he meditated with the other. This breach was now, indeed,daily expected, as a natural sequel to the rupture with Mr. Sheridan inthe last session; but, by various accidents and interpositions, thecrisis was delayed till the 6th of May, when the recommitment of theQuebec Bill,—a question upon which both orators had already takenoccasion to unfold their views of the French Revolution,—furnished Burkewith an opportunity, of which he impetuously took advantage, to sever thetie between himself and Mr. Fox forever.

This scene, so singular in a public assembly, where the naturalaffections are but seldom called out, and where, though bursts of temperlike that of Burke are common, such tears as those shed by Mr. Fox arerare phenomena,—has been so often described in various publications,that it would be superfluous to enter into the details of it here. Thefollowing are the solemn and stern words in which sentence of death waspronounced upon a friendship, that had now lasted for more than thefourth part of a century. "It certainly," said Mr. Burke, "wasindiscretion at any period, but especially at his time of life, toprovoke enemies, or to give his friends occasion to desert him; yet, ifhis firm and steady adherence to the British Constitution placed him insuch a dilemma, he would risk all, and, as public duty and publicprudence taught him, with his last words exclaim, 'Fly from the FrenchConstitution.'" [Mr. Fox here whispered, that "there was no loss offriendship."] Mr. Burke said, "Yes, there was a loss offriendship;—he knew the price of his conduct;—he had done his duty atthe price of his friend; their friendship was at an end."

In rising to reply to the speech of Burke, Mr. Fox was so affected as tobe for some moments unable to speak:—he wept, it is said, even tosobbing; and persons who were in the gallery at the 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—the onefrom simplicity and frankness, the other from ungovernable temper,—tohave continued in relations of amity, notwithstanding their disagreementupon a question which was at that moment setting the world in arms, boththemselves and the country would have been the better for such acompromise between them. Their long habits of mutual deference would havemingled with and moderated the discussion of their present differences;—the tendency to one common centre to which their minds had beenaccustomed, 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 indefending their respective opinions, and which, by lighting, as it were,the torch at both ends, but hastened a conflagration in which Libertyherself might have been the sufferer. But it was evident that such acompromise would have been wholly impossible. Even granting that Mr.Burke did not welcome the schism as a relief, neither the temper of themen nor the spirit of the times, which converted opinions at once intopassions, would have admitted of such a peaceable counterbalance ofprinciples, nor suffered them long to slumber in that hollow truce, whichTacitus has described,—"manente in speciem amicitia" Mr.Sheridan saw this from the first; and, in hazarding that vehement speech,by which he provoked the rupture between himself and Burke, neither hisjudgment nor his temper were so much off their guard as they who blamedthat speech seemed inclined to infer. But, perceiving that a separationwas in the end inevitable, he thought it safer, perhaps, as well asmanlier, to encounter the extremity at once, than by any temporizingdelay, or too complaisant suppression of opinion, to involve both himselfand Mr. Fox in the suspicion of either sharing or countenancing thatspirit of defection, which, he saw, was fast spreading among the rest oftheir associates.

It is indeed said, and with every appearance of truth, that Mr. Sheridanhad felt offended by the censures which some of his political friends hadpronounced upon the indiscretion (as it was called) of his speech in thelast year, and that, having, in consequence, withdrawn from them the aidof his powerful talents during a great part of the present session, hebut returned to his post under the express condition, that he should beallowed to take the earliest opportunity of repeating, fully andexplicitly, the same avowal of his sentiments.

The following letter from Dr. Parr to Mrs. Sheridan, written immediatelyafter the scene between Burke and Sheridan in the preceding year, iscurious:—

"DEAR MADAM,

"I am most fixedly and most indignantly on the side of Mr. Sheridan andMr. Fox against Mr. Burke. It is not merely French politics that producedthis dispute;—they might have been settled privately. No, no,—there isjealousy lurking underneath;—jealousy of Mr. Sheridan's eloquence;—jealousy of his popularity;—jealousy of his influence with Mr.Fox;—jealousy, perhaps, of his connection with the Prince.

"Mr. Sheridan was, I think, not too warm; or, at least, I should havemyself been warmer. Why, Burke accused Mr. Fox and Mr. Sheridan of actsleading to rebellion,—and he made Mr. Fox a dupe, and Mr. Sheridan atraitor! I think this,—and I am sure, yes, positively sure, thatnothing else will allay the ferment of men's minds. Mr. Sheridan ought,publicly in Parliament, to demand proof, or a retractation, of thishorrible 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, orprivate concessions and reconciliations, they are all nothing. In publicall must be again taken up; for, if drowned, the Public will say, andPitt will insinuate, that the charge is well founded, and that they darenot provoke an inquiry.

"I know Burke is not addicted to giving up,—and so much the worse forhim 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 bestopped. All the papers are with Burke,—even the Foxite papers, which Ihave 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 manupon the earth, yet, in politics I think him,—what he has been found, tothe sorrow of those who act with him. He is uncorrupt, I know; but hispassions are quite headstrong; [Footnote: It was well said, (I believe,by Mr. Fox,) that it was lucky both for Burke and Windham that they tookthe Royal side on the subject of the French Revolution, as they wouldhave got hanged on the other.] and age, and disappointment, and the sightof other men rising into fame and consequence, sour him. Pray tell mewhen they are reconciled,—though, as I said, it is nothing to thepurpose without a public explanation.

"I am, dear Madam,

"Yours truly,

"S. PARR."

Another letter, communicated to me as having been written about thisperiod to Sheridan by a Gentleman, then abroad, who was well acquaintedwith the whole party, contains allusions to the breach, which make itsintroduction here not irrelevant:—

"I wish very much to have some account of the state of things with youthat I can rely on. I wish to know how all my old companions andfellow-laborers do; if the club yet exists; if you, and Richardson, andLord John, and Ellis, and Lawrence, and Fitzpatrick, &c., meet, and joke,and write, as of old. What is become of Becket's, and thesupper-parties,—the noctes coenaeque? Poor Burgoyne! I am sureyou all mourned him as I did, particularly Richardson:—pray remember meaffectionately to Richardson. It is a shame for you all, and I will sayungrateful in many of you, to have so totally forgotten me, and to leaveme in ignorance of every thing public and private in which I aminterested. The only creature who writes to me is the Duke of Portland;but in the great and weighty occupations that engross his mind, you caneasily conceive that the little details of our Society cannot enter intoHis Grace's correspondence. I have indeed carried on a pretty regularcorrespondence with young Burke. But that is now at an end. He isso wrapt up in the importance of his present pursuits, that it is toogreat an honor for me to continue to correspond with him. His father Iever 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 violenceof principle, that makes him lose his friendships in his politics,and quarrel with every one who differs from him. Bitterly have I lamentedthat greatest of these quarrels, and, indeed, the only important one; norcan I conceive it to have been less afflicting to my private feelingsthan fatal to the party. The worst of it to me was, that I was obliged tocondemn the man I loved, and that all the warmth of my affection, and thezeal of my partiality, could not suggest a single excuse to vindicate himeither to the world or to myself, from the crime (for such it was) ofgiving such a triumph to the common enemy. He failed, too, in what I mostloved him for,—his heart. There it was that Mr. Fox principally roseabove him; nor, amiable as he ever has been, did he ever appear halfso amiable as on that trying occasion."

The topic upon which Sheridan most distinguished himself during thisSession was the meditated interference of England in the war betweenRussia and the Porte,—one of the few measures of Mr. Pitt on which thesense of the nation was opposed to him. So unpopular, indeed, was theArmament, proposed to be raised for this object, and so rapidly did themajority of the Minister diminish during the discussion of it, that thereappeared for some time a probability that the Whig party would be calledinto power,—an event which, happening at this critical juncture, might,by altering the policy of England, have changed the destinies of allEurope.

The circ*mstance to which at present this Russian question owes its chiefhold upon English memories is the charge, arising out of it, broughtagainst Mr. Fox of having sent Mr. Adair as his representative toPetersburg, for the purpose of frustrating the objects for which theKing's ministers were then actually negotiating. This accusation, thoughmore than once obliquely intimated during the discussions upon theRussian Armament in 1791, first met the public eye, in any tangible form,among those celebrated Articles of Impeachment against Mr. Fox, whichwere drawn up by Burke's practised hand [Footnote: This was the thirdtime that his talent for impeaching was exercised, as he acknowledgedhaving drawn up, during the administration of Lord North, seven distinctArticles of Impeachment against that nobleman, which, however, the adviceof Lord Rockingham induced him to relinquish] in 1793, and found theirway surreptitiously into print in 1797. The angry and vindictive tone ofthis paper was but little calculated to inspire confidence in itsstatements, and the charge again died away, unsupported and unrefuted,till the appearance of the Memoirs of Mr. Pitt by the Bishop ofWinchester; when, upon the authority of documents said to be found amongthe papers of Mr. Pitt, but not produced, the accusation wasrevived,—the Right Reverend biographer calling in aid of his own view ofthe transaction the charitable opinion of the Turks, who, he complacentlyassures us, "expressed great surprise that Mr. Fox had not lost his headfor such conduct." Notwithstanding, however, this Concordatbetween the Right Reverend Prelate and the Turks, something more is stillwanting to give validity to so serious an accusation. Until theproduction of the alleged proofs (which Mr. Adair has confidentlydemanded) shall have put the public in possession of more reconditematerials for judging, they must regard as satisfactory and conclusivethe refutation of the whole charge, both as regards himself and hisillustrious friend, which Mr. Adair has laid before the world; and forthe truth of which not only his own high character, but the character ofthe ministries of both parties, who have since employed him in missionsof the first trust and importance, seem to offer the strongest and mostconvincing pledges.

The Empress of Russia, in testimony of her admiration of the eloquence ofMr. Fox on this occasion, sent an order to England, through herambassador, for a bust of that statesman, which it was her intention, shesaid, to place between those of Demosthenes and Cicero. The following isa literal copy of Her Imperial Majesty's note on the subject: [Footnote:Found among Mr. Sheridan's papers, with these words, in his ownhand-writing, annexed:—"N. B. Fox would have lost it, if I had not madehim look for it, and taken a copy."]—

"Ecrivés au Cte. Worenzof qu'il me fasse avoir en marbre blanc le Busteresemblant de Charle Fox. Je veut le mettre sur ma Colonade entre eux deDemosthene et Ciceron.

"Il a delivré par son eloquence sa Patrie et la Russie d'une guerre a laquelle il n'y avoit ni justice ni raisons."

Another subject that engaged much of the attention of Mr. Sheridan thisyear was his own motion relative to the constitution of the Royal ScotchBoroughs. He had been, singularly enough, selected, in the year 1787, bythe Burgesses of Scotland, in preference to so many others possessingmore personal knowledge of that country, to present to the House thePetition of the Convention of Delegates, for a Reform of the internalgovernment of the Royal Boroughs. How fully satisfied they were with hisexertions in their cause may be judged by the following extract from theMinutes of Convention, dated 11th August, 1791:—

"Mr. Mills of Perth, after a suitable introductory speech, moved a voteof thanks to Mr. Sheridan, in the following words:—

"The Delegates of the Burgesses of Scotland, associated for the purposeof Reform, taking into their most serious consideration the importantservices rendered to their cause by the manly and prudent exertions ofRichard Brinsley Sheridan, Esq., the genuine and fixed attachment to itwhich the whole tenor of his conduct has evinced, and the admirablemoderation he has all along displayed,

"Resolved unanimously, That the most sincere thanks of this meeting begiven to the said Richard Brinsley Sheridan, Esq., for his steady,honorable, and judicious conduct in bringing the question relative to theviolated rights of the Scottish Boroughs to its present important andfavorable crisis; and the Burgesses with firm confidence hope that, fromhis attachment to the cause, which he has shown to be deeply rooted inprinciple, he will persevere to exert his distinguished, abilities, tillthe objects of it are obtained, with that inflexible firmness, andconstitutional moderation, which have appeared so conspicuous andexemplary throughout the whole of his conduct, as to be highly deservingof the imitation of all good citizens.

"JOHN EWEN, Secretary."

From a private letter written this year by one of the Scottish Delegatesto a friend of Mr. Sheridan, (a copy of which letter I have found amongthe papers of the latter,) it appears that the disturbing effects of Mr.Burke's book had already shown themselves so strongly among the Whigparty as to fill the writer with apprehensions of their defection, evenon the safe and moderate question of Scotch Reform. He mentions onedistinguished member of the party, who afterwards stood conspicuously inthe very van of the Opposition, but who at that moment, if the authorityof the letter may be depended upon, was, like others, under the spell ofthe great Alarmist, and yielding rapidly to the influence of thatanti-revolutionary terror, which, like the Panic dignified by theancients with the name of one of their Gods, will be long associated inthe memories of Englishmen with the mighty name and genius of Burke. Aconsultation was, however, held among this portion of the party, withrespect to the prudence of lending their assistance to the measure ofScotch Reform; and Sir James Mackintosh, as I have heard him say, was incompany with Sheridan, when Dr. Lawrence came direct from the meeting, toinform him that they had agreed to support his motion.

The state of the Scotch Representation is one of those cases where adread of the ulterior objects of Reform induces many persons to opposeits first steps, however beneficial and reasonable they may deem them,rather than risk a further application of the principle, or open a breachby which a bolder spirit of innovation may enter. As it is, there is nosuch thing as popular election in Scotland. We cannot, indeed, moreclearly form to ourselves a notion of the manner in which so important aportion of the British empire is represented, than by supposing the Lordsof the Manor throughout England to be invested with the power of electingher representatives,—the manorial rights, too, being, in a much greaternumber of instances than at present, held independently of the land fromwhich they derive their claim, and thus the natural connection betweenproperty and the right of election being, in most cases, whollyseparated. Such would be, as nearly as possible, a parallel to the systemof representation now existing in Scotland;—a system, which it is theunderstood duty of all present and future Lord Advocates to defend, andwhich neither the lively assaults of a Sheridan nor the sounder reasoningand industry of an Abercrombie have yet been able to shake.

The following extract from another of the many letters of Dr. Parr toSheridan shows still further the feeling entertained towards Burke, evenby some of those who most violently differed with him:—

"During the recess of Parliament I hope you will read the mighty work ofmy friend and your friend, and Mr. Fox's friend, Mackintosh: there issome obscurity and there are many Scotticisms in it; yet I do pronounceit the work of a most masculine and comprehensive mind. The arrangementis far more methodical than Mr. Burke's, the sentiments are morepatriotic, the reasoning is more profound, and even the imagery in someplaces is scarcely less splendid. I think Mackintosh a betterphilosopher, and a better citizen, and I know him to be a far betterscholar and a far better man, than Payne; in whose book there are greatirradiations of genius, but none of the glowing and generous warmth whichvirtue inspires; that warmth which is often kindled in the bosom ofMackintosh, and which pervades almost every page of Mr. Burke'sbook—though I confess, and with sorrow I confess, that the holy flamewas quite extinguished in his odious altercation with you and Mr. Fox."

A letter from the Prince of Wales to Sheridan this year furnishes a newproof of the confidence reposed in him by His Royal Highness. A questionof much delicacy and importance having arisen between that IllustriousPersonage and the Duke of York, of a nature, as it appears, too urgent towait for a reference to Mr. Fox, Sheridan had alone the honor of advisingHis Royal Highness in the correspondence that took place between him andhis Royal Brother on that occasion. Though the letter affords noimmediate clue to the subject of these communications, there is littledoubt that they referred to a very important and embarrassing question,which is known to have been put by the Duke of York to the Heir-Apparent,previously to his own marriage this year;—a question which involvedconsiderations connected with the Succession to the Crown, and which thePrince, with the recollection of what occurred on the same subject in1787, could only get rid of by an evasive answer.

CHAPTER V.

DEATH OF MRS. SHERIDAN.

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 thosequalities that attract both eye and heart, than this accomplished andlovely person exhibited. To judge by what we hear, it was impossible tosee her without admiration, or know her without love; and a late Bishopused to say that she "seemed to him the connecting link between woman andangel." [Footnote: Jackson of Exeter, too, giving a description of her,in some Memoirs of his own Life that were never published, said that tosee her, as she stood singing beside him at the piano-forte, was "likelooking into the face of an angel."] The devotedness of affection, too,with which she was regarded, not only by her own father and sisters, butby all her husband's family, showed that her fascination was of that bestkind which, like charity, "begins at home;" and that while her beauty andmusic enchanted the world, she had charms more intrinsic and lasting forthose who came nearer to her. We have already seen with what pliantsympathy she followed her husband through his various pursuits,—identifying herself with the politician as warmly and readilyas with the author, and keeping Love still attendant on Genius throughall his transformations. As the wife of the dramatist and manager, wefind her calculating the receipts of the house, assisting in theadaptation of her husband's opera, and reading over the plays sent in bydramatic candidates. As the wife of the senator and orator we see her,with no less zeal, making extracts from state-papers, and copying outponderous pamphlets,—entering with all her heart and soul into thedetails of elections, and even endeavoring to fathom the mysteries of theFunds. The affectionate and sensible care with which she watched over,not only her own children, but those which her beloved sister, Mrs.Tickell, confided to her, in dying, gives the finish to this picture ofdomestic usefulness. When it is recollected, too, that the person thushomelily employed was gifted with every charm that could adorn anddelight society, it would be difficult, perhaps, to find any where a moreperfect example of that happy mixture of utility and ornament, in whichall that is prized by the husband and the lover combines, and whichrenders woman what the Sacred Fire was to the Parsees,—not only anobject of adoration on their altars, but a source of warmth and comfortto their hearths.

To say that, with all this, she was not happy, nor escaped the censure ofthe world, is but to assign to her that share of shadow, without whichnothing bright ever existed on this earth. United not only by marriage,but by love, to a man who was the object of universal admiration, andwhose vanity and passions too often led him to yield to the temptationsby which he was surrounded, it was but natural that, in the consciousnessof her own power to charm, she should be now and then piqued into anappearance of retaliation, and seem to listen with complaisance to someof those numerous worshippers, who crowd around such beautiful andunguarded shrines. Not that she was at any time unwatched bySheridan,—on the contrary, he followed her with a lover's eyesthroughout; and it was believed of both, by those who knew them best,that, even when they seemed most attracted by other objects, they wouldwillingly, had they consulted the real wishes of their hearts, have givenup every one in the world for each other. So wantonly do those, who havehappiness 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 ground."

They had, immediately after their marriage, as we have seen, passed sometime in a little cottage at Eastburnham, and it was a period, of course,long remembered by them both for its happiness. I have been told by afriend of Sheridan, that he once overheard him exclaiming to himself,after looking for some moments at his wife, with a pang, no doubt, ofmelancholy self-reproach,—"Could anything bring back those firstfeelings?" then adding with a sigh, "Yes, perhaps, the cottage atEastburnham might." In this as well as in some other traits of the samekind, there is assuredly any thing but that common-place indifference,which too often clouds over the evening of married life. On the contrary,it seems rather the struggle of affection with its own remorse; and, likethe humorist who mourned over the extinction of his intellect soeloquently as to prove that it was still in full vigor, shows love to bestill 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 interestingly displaysitself. Their chief charm is unaffectedness, and the total absence ofthat literary style, which in the present day infects even the mostfamiliar correspondence. I shall here give a few more of her letters,written at different periods to the elder sister of Sheridan,—it beingone of her many merits to have kept alive between her husband and hisfamily, though so far separated, a constant and cordial intercourse,which, unluckily, after her death, from his own indolence and the newconnections into which he entered, was suffered to die away, almostentirely. The first letter, from its allusion to the WestminsterScrutiny, must have been written in the year 1784, Mr. Fox having gainedhis great victory over Sir Cecil Wray on the 17th of May, and theScrutiny having been granted on the same day.

"MY DEAR LISSY,

"London, June 6.

"I am happy to find by your last that our apprehensions on Charles'saccount were useless. The many reports that were circulated here of hisaccident gave us a good deal of uneasiness; but it is no longer wonderfulthat he should be buried here, when Mr. Jackman has so barbarouslymurdered him with you. I fancy he would risk another broken head, ratherthan give up his title to it as an officer of the Crown. We go on herewrangling as usual, but I am afraid all to no purpose. Those who are inpossession of power are determined to use it without the least pretenceto justice or consistency. They have ordered a Scrutiny for Westminster,in defiance of all law or precedent, and without any other hope orexpectation but that of harassing and tormenting Mr. Fox and his friends,and obliging them to waste their time and money, which perhaps they thinkmight otherwise be employed to a better purpose in another cause. We havenothing for it but patience and perseverance, which I hope will at lastbe crowned with success, though I fear it will be a much longer trialthan we at first expected. I hear from every body that your … arevastly disliked—but are you not all kept in awe by such beauty? I knowshe flattered herself to subdue all your Volunteers by the fire of hereyes only:—how astonished she must be to find that they have not yetlaid down their arms! There is nothing would tempt me to trust my sweetperson upon the water sooner than the thoughts of seeing you; but I fearmy friendship will hardly ever be put to so hard a trial. Though Sheridanis 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 topay many visits, but I fear we shall be obliged to give up many of ourschemes, for I take it for granted Parliament will meet again as soon aspossible. We are to go to Chatsworth, and to another friend of mine inthat neighborhood, so that I doubt our being able to pay our annual visitto Crewe Hall. Mrs. Crewe has been very ill all this winter with your oldcomplaint, the rheumatism—she is gone to Brightelmstone to wash it awayin the sea. Do you ever see Mrs. Greville? I am glad to hear my twonephews are both in so thriving a way. Are you still a nurse? I shouldlike to take a peep at your bantlings. Which is the handsomest? have youcandor enough to think any thing equal to your own boy? if you have, youhave 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 youhave nothing better to do. God bless you.

"Ever yours."

"The inclosed came to Dick in one of Charles's franks; he said he shouldwrite 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 bothof sisterly and of conjugal feeling, which seem to bespeak a heart happyin all its affections.

"MY DEAR LISSY,

Putney, August 16.

"You will no doubt be surprised to find me still dating from this place,but various reasons have detained me here from day to day, to the greatdissatisfaction of my dear Mary, who has been expecting me hourly for thelast fortnight. I propose going to Hampton-Court tonight, if Dick returnsin any decent time from town.

"I got your letter and a half the day before yesterday, and shall be verywell pleased to have such blunders occur more frequently. You mistake, ifyou suppose I am a friend to your tarrers and featherers:—it is suchwretches that always ruin a good cause. There is no reason on earth whyyou should not have a new Parliament as well as us:—it might not,perhaps, be quite as convenient to our immaculate Minister, but Isincerely hope he will not find your Volunteers so accommodating as thepresent India troops in our House of Commons. What! does the Secretary atWar condescend to reside in any house but his own?—'Tis very odd heshould turn himself out of doors in his situation. I never could perceiveany economy in dragging furniture from one place to another; but, ofcourse, he has more experience in these matters than I have.

"Mr. Forbes dined here the other day, and I had a great deal ofconversation with him on various subjects relating to you all. He says,Charles's manner of talking of his wife, &c. is so ridiculous, that,whenever he comes into company, they always cry out,—'Now S——a, weallow you half an hour to talk of the beauties of Mrs. S.——, half an hourto your child, and another half hour to your farm,—and then we expectyou will behave like a reasonable person.'

"So Mrs. —— is not happy: poor thing, I dare say, if the truth wereknown, he teazes her to death. Your very good husbands generallycontrive to make you sensible of their merit somehow or other.

"From a letter Mr. Canning has just got from Dublin, I find you have beenbreaking the heads of some of our English heroes. I have no doubt in theworld that they deserved it; and if half a score more that I know hadshared the same fate, it might, perhaps become less the fashion among ouryoung men to be such contemptible coxcombs as they certainly are.

"My sister desired me to say all sorts of affectionate things to you, inreturn for your kind remembrance of her in your last. I assure you, youlost a great deal by not seeing her in her maternal character:—it is theprettiest sight in the world to see her with her children:—they are bothcharming creatures, but my little namesake is my delight:—'tisimpossible to say how foolishly fond of her I am. Poor Mary! she is in away to have more;—and what will become of them all is sometimes aconsideration that gives me many a painful hour. But they arehappy, with their little portion of the goods of thisworld:—then, what are riches good for? For my part, as you know, poorDick and I have always been struggling against the stream, and shallprobably continue to do so to the end of our lives,—yet we would notchange 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 acompromise for his uncle's estate, which has been so long inlitigation;—is it true?—I dare say it is, though, or he would not be sodiscontented as you say he is. God bless you.—Give my love to Bess, andreturn a kiss to my nephew for me. Remember me to Mr. L. and believe me

"Truly yours."

The following letter appears to have been written in 1785, some monthsafter the death of her sister, Miss Maria Linley. Her playful allusionsto the fame of her own beauty might have been answered in the language ofParis to Helen:—

"Minor est tua gloria vero
Famaque de forma pene maligna est."

"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 fromHampton-Court, very soon after Bess came to England. My letter was adismal one; for my mind was at that time entirely occupied by theaffecting circ*mstance of my poor sister's death. Perhaps you lostnothing by not receiving my letter, for it was not much calculated toamuse you.

"I am still a recluse, you see, but I am preparing to launch forthe winter in a few days. Dick was detained in town by a bad fever:—youmay suppose I was kept in ignorance of his situation, or I should nothave remained so quietly here. He came last week, and the fatigue of thejourney very nearly occasioned a relapse:—but by the help of a jewel ofa doctor that lives in this neighborhood we are both quite stout and wellagain, (for I took it into my head to fall sick again, too,without rhyme or reason.)

"We purpose going to town to-morrow or next day. Our own house has beenpainting and papering, and the weather has been so unfavorable to thebusiness, that it is probable it will not be fit for us to go into thismonth; we have, therefore, accepted a most pressing invitation of GeneralBurgoyne to take up our abode with him, till our house is ready; so yournext must be directed to Bruton-Street, under cover to Dick, unlessCharles will frank it again. I don't believe what you say of Charles'snot being glad to have seen me in Dublin. You are very flattering in thereasons you give, but I rather think his vanity would have been moregratified by showing every body how much prettier and younger his wifewas than the Mrs. Sheridan in whose favor they have been prejudiced byyour good-natured partiality. If I could have persuaded myself to trustthe treacherous ocean, the pleasure of seeing you and your nursery wouldhave compensated for all the fame I should have lost by a comparison. Butmy guardian sylph, vainer of my beauty, perhaps, than myself, would notsuffer me to destroy the flattering illusion you have so oftendisplayed to your Irish friends. No,—I shall stay till I am past allpretensions, and then you may excuse your want of taste by saying, 'Oh,if you had seen her when she was young!'

"I am very glad that Bess is satisfied with my attention to her. Theunpleasant situation I was in prevented my seeing her as often as I couldwish. For her sake I assure you I shall be glad to have Dick andyour father on good terms, without entering into any arguments on thesubject; but I fear, where one of the parties, at least, has atincture of what they call in Latin damnatus obstinatusmulio, the attempt will be difficult, and the success uncertain. Godbless you, and believe me

"Mrs. Lefanu, Great Cuff-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 hedied in the month of August following. It is unnecessary to direct thereader's attention to the passages in which she speaks of her lostsister, Mrs. Tickell, and her children:—they have too much of theheart'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, andconsequently inclined to forebode misfortune. I would not show it toSheridan:—he has lately been much harassed by business, and I could notbear to give him the pain I know your letter would have occasioned.Partial as your father has always been to Charles, I am confidenthe never has, nor ever will feel half the duty and affections thatDick has always exprest. I know how deeply he will be afflicted, if youconfirm the melancholy account of his declining health;—but I trust yournext will remove my apprehensions, and make it unnecessary for me towound his affectionate heart by the intelligence. I flatter myselflikewise, that you have been without reason alarmed about poor Bess. Herlife, to be sure, must be dreadful;—but I should hope the good natureand kindness of her disposition will support her, and enable her tocontinue the painful duty so necessary, probably, to the comfort of yourpoor father. If Charles has not or does not do every thing in his powerto contribute to the happiness of the few years which nature can allowhim, he will have more to answer to his conscience than I trust any ofthose dear to me will have. Mrs. Crewe told us, the other day, she hadheard from Mrs. Greville, that every thing was settled much to yourfather's satisfaction. I will hope, therefore, as I have saidbefore, you were in a gloomy fit when you wrote, and in the mean time Iwill congratulate you on the recovery of your own health and that of yourchildren.

"I have been confined now near two months:—I caught cold almostimmediately on coming to town, which brought on all those dreadfulcomplaints with which I was afflicted at Crewe-Hall. By constantattention and strict regimen I am once more got about again; but I nevergo out of my house after the sun is down, and on those terms only can Ienjoy tolerable health. I never knew Dick better. My dear boy is now withme for his holydays, and a charming creature he is, I assure you, inevery respect. My sweet little charge, too, promises to reward me for allmy care and anxiety. The little ones come to me every day, though they donot at present live with me. We think of taking a house in the countrythis summer as necessary for my health and convenient to S., who must beoften in town. I shall then have all the children with me, as theynow constitute a very great part of my happiness. The scenes of sorrowand sickness I have lately gone through have depressed my spirits, andmade me incapable of finding pleasure in the amusem*nts which used tooccupy me perhaps too much. My greatest delight is in the reflection thatI am acting according to the wishes of my ever dear and lamented sister,and that by fulfilling the sacred trust bequeathed me in her lastmoments, I insure my own felicity in the grateful affection of the sweetcreatures,—whom, though I love for their own sakes, I idolize when Iconsider them as the dearest part of her who was the first and nearestfriend of my heart! God bless you, my dear Liss:—this is a subject thatalways carries me away. I will therefore bid you adieu,—only entreatingyou as soon as you can to send me a more comfortable letter. My kind loveto Bess, and Mr. L.

"Yours, ever affectionately."

I shall give but one more letter; which is perhaps only interesting asshowing how little her heart went along with the gayeties into which herhusband's connection with the world of fashion and politics led her.

"MY DEAR LISSY,

"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 hersituation. She earnestly wishes you would find out from Dr. Quin what thenature of her complaint is, with every other particular you can gather onthe 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 recesslately from the Trial, I thought it best to acquaint Sheridan with hisillness. I hope now, however, there is but little reason to be alarmedabout him. Mr. Tickell has just received an account from Holland, thatpoor Mrs. Berkeley, (whom you know best as Betty Tickell,) was at thepoint of death in a consumption.

"I hope in a very short time now to get into the country. The Duke ofNorfolk has lent us a house within twenty miles of London; and I amimpatient to be once more out of this noisy, dissipated town, where I donothing that I really like, and am forced to appear pleased with everything odious to me. God bless you. I write in the hurry of dressing for agreat ball given by the Duke of York to night, which I had determined notto go to till late last night, when I was persuaded that it would be veryimproper to refuse a Royal invitation, if I was not absolutely confinedby illness. Adieu. Believe me truly yours.

"You must pay for this letter, for Dick has got your last with thedirection; and any thing in his hands is irrecoverable!"

The health of Mrs. Sheridan, as we see by some of her letters, had beenfor some time delicate; but it appears that her last, fatal illnessoriginated in a cold, which she had caught in the summer of the precedingyear. Though she continued from that time to grow gradually worse, herfriends were flattered with the hope that as soon as her confinementshould take place, she would be relieved from all that appeared mostdangerous in her complaint. That event, however, produced but a temporaryintermission of the malady, which returned after a few days with suchincreased violence, that it became necessary for her, as a last hope, totry the waters of Bristol.

The following affectionate letter of Tickell must have been written atthis period:—

"MY DEAR SHERIDAN,

"I was but too well prepared for the melancholy intelligence contained inyour last letter, in answer to which, as Richardson will give you this, Ileave it to his kindness to do me justice in every sincere andaffectionate expression of my grief for your situation, and my entirereadiness to obey and further your wishes by every possible exertion.

"If you have any possible opportunity, let me entreat you to remember meto the dearest, tenderest friend and sister of my heart. Sustainyourself, my dear Sheridan,

"And believe me yours,

"Most affectionately and faithfully,

"R. TICKELL."

The circ*mstances of her death cannot better be told than in the languageof a lady whose name it would be an honor to mention, who, giving up allother cares and duties, accompanied her dying friend to Bristol, anddevoted herself, with a tenderness rarely equalled even among women, tothe soothing and lightening of her last painful moments. From the letterswritten by this lady at the time, some extracts have lately been given byMiss Lefanu [Footnote: The talents of this young lady are another proofof the sort of garet kind of genius allotted to the whole race ofSheridan. I find her very earliest poetical work, "The Sylphid Queen,"thus spoken of in a letter from the second Mrs. Sheridan to her mother,Mrs. Lefanu—"I should have acknowledged your very welcome presentimmediately, had not Mr. Sheridan, on my telling him what it was, run offwith it, and I have been in vain endeavoring to get it from him eversince. What little I did read of it, I admired particularly, but it willbe much more gratifying to you and your daughter to hear that heread it with the greatest attention, and thought it showed a great dealof imagination."] in her interesting Memoirs of her grandmother, Mrs.Frances Sheridan. But their whole contents are so important to thecharacters of the persons concerned, and so delicately draw aside theveil from a scene of which sorrow and affection were the only witnesses,that I feel myself justified not only in repeating what has already beenquoted, but in adding a few more valuable particulars, which, by thekindness of the writer and her correspondent, I am enabled to give fromthe same authentic 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 asubject so interesting to you, and to all that have the happiness ofknowing dear Mrs. Sheridan; though I am sorry to add, it cannot be suchas will relieve your anxiety, or abate your fears. The truth is, our poorfriend is in a most precarious state of health, and quite given over bythe faculty. Her physician here, who is esteemed very skilful inconsumptive cases, assured me from the first that it was a lostcase; but as your brother seemed unwilling to know the truth, he wasnot so explicit with him, and only represented her as being in a verycritical situation. Poor man! he cannot bear to think her in dangerhimself, or that any one else should; though he is as attentive andwatchful as if he expected every moment to be her last. It is impossiblefor any man to behave with greater tenderness, or to feel more on such anoccasion, than he does.

* * * * *

"At times the dear creature suffers a great deal from weakness, and wantof rest. She is very patient under her sufferings, and perfectlyresigned. She is well aware of her danger, and talks of dying with thegreatest composure. I am sure it will give you and Mr. Lefanu pleasure toknow that her mind is well prepared for any change that may happen, andthat she derives every comfort from religion that a sincere Christian canlook for."

On the 28th of the same month Mrs. Sheridan died; and a letter from thislady, dated July 19th, thus touchingly describes her last moments. As acompanion-picture to the close of Sheridan's own life, it completes alesson of the transitoriness of this world, which might sadden the heartsof the beautiful and gifted, even in their most brilliant and triumphanthours. Far happier, however, in her death than he was, she had not onlyhis affectionate voice to soothe her to the last, but she had one devotedfriend, out of the many whom she had charmed and fascinated, to watchconsolingly over her last struggle, and satisfy her as to the fate of thebeloved objects which she left behind.

"July 19, 1792.

"Our dear departed friend kept her bed only two days, and seemed tosuffer less during that interval than for some time before. She wasperfectly in her senses to the last moment, and talked with the greatestcomposure of her approaching dissolution; assuring us all that she hadthe most perfect confidence in the mercies of an all-powerful andmerciful Being, from whom alone she could have derived the inward comfortand support she felt at that awful moment! She said, she had no fear ofdeath, and that all her concern arose from the thoughts of leaving somany 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 wastolerably well. Your poor brother now thought it proper to send for them,and to flatter them no longer. They immediately came;—it was the morningbefore she died. They were introduced one at a time at her bed-side, andwere prepared as much as possible for this sad scene. The women bore itvery well, but all our feelings were awakened for her poor father. Theinterview between him and the dear angel was afflicting andheart-breaking to the greatest degree imaginable. I was afraid she wouldhave sunk under the cruel agitation:—she said it was indeed too much forher. She gave some kind injunction to each of them, and said everythingshe could to comfort them under this severe trial. They then parted, inthe hope of seeing her again in the evening, but they never saw her more!Mr. Sheridan and I sat up all that night with her:—indeed he had done sofor several nights before, and never left her one moment that could beavoided. About four o'clock in the morning we perceived an alarmingchange, and sent for her physician. [Footnote: This physician was Dr.Bain, then a very young man, whose friendship with Sheridan began by thismournful duty to his wife, and only ended with the performance of thesame melancholy office for himself. As the writer of the above letterswas not present during the interview which she describes between him andMrs. Sheridan, there are a few slight errors in her account of whatpassed, the particulars of which, as related by Dr. Bain himself, are asfollows:—On his arrival, she begged of Sheridan and her female friend toleave the room, and then, desiring him to lock the door after them, said,"You have never deceived me:—tell me truly, shall I live over thisnight." Dr. Bain immediately felt her pulse, and, finding that she wasdying, answered, "I recommend you to take some laudanum;" upon which shereplied, "I understand you:—then give it me."

Dr. Bain fully concurs with the writer of these letters in bearingtestimony to the tenderness and affection that Sheridan evinced on thisoccasion:—it was, he says, quite "the devotedness of a lover." Thefollowing note, addressed to him after the sad event was over, does honoralike to the writer and the receiver:—

"MY DEAR SIR,

"I must request your acceptance of the inclosed for your professionalattendance. For the kind and friendly attentions, which have accompaniedyour efforts, I must remain your debtor. The recollection of them willlive in my mind with the memory of the dear lost object, whose sufferingsyou soothed, and whose heart was grateful for it.

"Believe me,

"Dear Sir,

"Very sincerely yours,

"Friday night.

"R. B. Sheridan."] She said to him, 'If you can relieve me, do itquickly;—if not do not let me struggle, but give me some laudanum.' Hisanswer was, 'Then I will give you some laudanum.' She desired to see Tomand Betty Tickell before she took it, of whom she took a most affectingleave! Your brother behaved most wonderfully, though his heart wasbreaking; and at times his feelings were so violent, that I feared hewould have been quite ungovernable at the last. Yet he summoned upcourage to kneel by the bed-side, till he felt the last pulse of expiringexcellence, and then withdrew. She died at five o'clock in the morning,28th of June.

"I hope, my dear Mrs. Lefanu, you will excuse my dwelling on this mostagonizing scene. I have a melancholy pleasure in so doing, and fancy itwill not be disagreeable to you to hear all the particulars of an eventso interesting, so afflicting, to all who knew the beloved creature! Formy part, I never beheld such a scene—never suffered such aconflict—much as I have suffered on my own account. While I live, theremembrance of it and the dear lost object can never be effaced from mymind.

"We remained ten days after the event took place at Bristol; and on the7th instant Mr. Sheridan and Tom, accompanied by all her family (exceptMrs. Linley), Mr. and Mrs. Leigh, Betty Tickell and myself, attended thedear remains [Footnote: The following striking reflection, which I havefound upon a scrap of paper, in Sheridan's handwriting, was suggested, nodoubt, by his feelings on this occasion—

"The loss of the breath from a beloved object, long suffering in pain andcertainly to die, is not so great a privation as the last loss of herbeautiful remains, if they remain so. The victory of the Grave is sharperthan the Sting of Death."] to Wells, where we saw her laid beside herbeloved sister in the Cathedral. The choir attended; and there was such aconcourse of people of all sorts assembled on the occasion that we couldhardly move along. Mr. Leigh read the service in a most affecting manner.Indeed, the whole scene, as you may easily imagine, was awful andaffecting to a very great degree. Though the crowd certainly interruptedthe solemnity very much, and, perhaps, happily for us abated somewhat ofour feelings, which, had we been less observed, would not have been soeasily kept down.

"The day after the sad scene was closed we separated, your brotherchoosing to be left by himself with Tom for a day or two. He afterwardsjoined us at Bath, where we spent a few days with our friends, theLeighs. Last Saturday we took leave of them, and on Sunday we arrived atIsleworth, where with much regret, I left your brother to his ownmelancholy reflections, with no other companions but his two children, inwhom he seems at present entirely wrapped up. He suffered a great deal inreturning the same road, and was most dreadfully agitated on his arrivalat Isleworth. His grief is deep and sincere, and I am sure will belasting. He is in very good spirits, and at times is even cheerful, butthe moment he is left alone he feels all the anguish of sorrow andregret. The dear little girl is the greatest comfort to him:—he cannotbear to be a moment without her. She thrives amazingly, and is indeed acharming little creature. Tom behaves with constant and tender attentionto his father:—he laments his dear mother sincerely, and at the time wasviolently affected;—but, at his age, the impressions of grief are notlasting; and his mind is naturally too lively and cheerful to dwell longon melancholy objects. He is in all respects truly amiable and in manyrespects so like his dear, charming mother, that I am sure he will beever 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 whenI took leave of him last Sunday."

To the mention which is made, in this affecting letter, of the father ofMrs. Sheridan, whose destiny it had been to follow to the grave, within afew short years, so many of his accomplished children, [Footnote: In 1778his eldest son Thomas was drowned, while amusing himself in apleasure-boat at the seat of the Duke of Ancaster. The pretty lines ofMrs. Sheridan to his violin are well known. A few years after, Samuel, alieutenant in the navy, was carried off by a fever. Miss Maria Linleydied 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 family;—there isanother brother, Mr. Ozias Linley, still living.] I must add a fewsentences more from another letter of the same lady, which, while theyincrease our interest in this amiable and ingenious man, bear testimonyto Sheridan's attaching powers, and prove how affectionate he must havebeen to her who was gone, to be thus loved by the father to whom she wasso dear:—

"Poor Mr. Linley has been here among us these two months. He is very muchbroke, but is still a very interesting and agreeable companion. I do notknow any one more to be pitied than he is. It is evident that therecollection of past misfortunes preys on his mind, and he has no comfortin 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 helikes being near him and his grandchildren." [Footnote: In the Memoirs ofMrs. Crouch I find the following anecdote:—"Poor Mr. Linley after thedeath of one of his sons, when seated at the harpsichord in Drury-Lanetheatre, in order to accompany the vocal parts of an interesting littlepiece taken from Prior's Henry and Emma, by Mr. Tickell, and excellentlyrepresented by Paduer and Miss Farren,—when the tutor of Henry, Mr.Aikin gave an impressive description of a promising young man, inspeaking of his pupil Henry, the feelings of Mr. Linley could not besuppressed. His tears fell fast—nor did he weep alone."

In the same work Mrs. Crouch is made to say that, after Miss Maria Linleydied, it was melancholy for her to sing to Mr. Linley, whose tearscontinually fell on the keys as he accompanied her; and if, in the courseof her profession, she was obliged to practise a song which he had beenaccustomed to hear his lost daughter sing, the similarity of theirmanners and their voices, which he had once remarked with pleasure, thenaffected him to such a degree, that he was frequently forced to quit theinstrument and walk about the room to recover his composure.]

Towards the autumn, (as we learn from another letter of this lady,) Mr.
Sheridan endeavored to form a domestic establishment for himself at
Wanstead.

"Wanstead, October 22, 1792.

"Your brother has taken a house in this village very near me, where hemeans to place his dear little girl to be as much as possible under myprojection. This was the dying request of my beloved friend; and the lasteffort of her mind and pen [Footnote: There are some touching allusionsto these last thoughts of Mrs. Sheridan, in an Elegy, written by herbrother, Mr. William Linley, soon after the news of the sad event reachedhim in India:—

"Oh most beloved! my sister and my friend! While kindred woes still breathe around thine urn, Long with the tear of absence must I blend The sigh, that speaks thou never shall return. * * * * "'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 bosom clung; For them to heaven thou sent'st the expiring prayer, The last that falter'd on thy trembling tongue."]was made the day before she expired, to draw up a solemn promise forboth of us to sign, to ensure the strict performance of this last awfulinjunction: so anxious was she to commit this dear treasure to my care,well knowing how impossible it would be for a father, situated as yourbrother is, to pay that constant attention to her which a daughter soarticularly requires. * * * You may be assured I shall engage in the taskwith the greatest delight and alacrity:—would to God that I were in thesmallest degree qualified to supply the place of that angelic,all-accomplished mother, of whose tender care she has been so early'deprived. All I can do for her I will do; and if I cansucceed 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, andshall feel myself happy in having fulfilled the first wish of her belovedmother's heart.

* * * * *

"To return to your brother, he talks of having his house here immediatelyfurnished and made ready for the reception of his nursery. It is a verygood sort of common house, with an excellent garden, roomy and fit forthe purpose, but will admit of no show or expense. I understand he hastaken a house in Jermyn-street, where he may see company, but he does notintend having any other country-house but this. Isleworth he gives up,his time being expired there. I believe he has got a private tutor forTom—somebody very much to his mind. At one time he talked of sendinghim abroad with this gentleman, but I know not at present what hisdeterminations are. He is too fond of Tom's society to let him go fromhim for any time; but I think it would be more to his advantage if hewould consent to part with him for two or three years. It is impossiblefor any man to be more devotedly attached to his children than he is andI hope they will be a comfort and a blessing to him, when the world losesits charms. The last time I saw him, which was for about five minutes, Ithought he looked remarkably well, and seemed tolerably cheerful. But Ihave observed in general that this affliction has made a wonderfulalteration in the expression of his countenance and in his manners.[Footnote: I have heard a Noble friend of Sheridan say that, happeningabout this time to sleep in the room next to him, he could plainly hearhim sobbing throughout the greater part of the night.] The Leighs and myfamily spent a week with him at Isleworth the beginning of August, wherewe were indeed most affectionately and hospitably entertained. I couldhardly believe him to be the same man. In fact, we never saw him do thehonors of his house before; that, you know, he always left thedear, elegant creature, who never failed to please and charm every onewho came within the sphere of her notice. Nobody could have filled herplace so well:—he seemed to have pleasure in making much of those whomshe loved, and who, he knew, sincerely loved her. We all thought he neverappeared to such advantage. He was attentive to every body and everything, though grave and thoughtful; and his feelings, poor fellow, oftenready to break forth in spite of his efforts to suppress them. He spenthis evenings mostly by himself. He desired me, when I wrote, to let youknow that she had by will made a little distribution of what she called'her own property,' and had left you and your sister rings ofremembrance, and her fausse montre, containing Mr. Sheridan'spicture to you, [Footnote: This bequest is thus announced by Sheridanhimself in a letter to his sister, dated June 3, 1794:—"I mean also tosend by Miss Patrick a picture which has long been your property, by abequest from one whose image is not often from my mind, and whose memory,I am sure, remains in yours."]—Mrs. Joseph Lefanu having got hers. Sheleft rings also to Mr. and Mrs. Leigh, my sister, daughter, and myself,and positively forbids any others being given on any pretence, but theseI have specified,—evidently precluding all her fine friends fromthis last mark of her esteem and approbation. She had, poor thing, withsome justice, turned from them all in disgust, and I observed, during herillness, never mentioned any of them with regard or kindness."

The consolation which Sheridan derived from his little daughter was notlong spared to him. In a letter, without a date, from the same amiablewriter, the following account of her death is given:—

"The circ*mstances attending this melancholy event were particularlydistressing. A large party of young people were assembled at yourbrother's to spend a joyous evening in dancing. We were all in the heightof our merriment,—he himself remarkably cheerful, and partaking of theamusem*nt, when the alarm was given that the dear little angel was dying.It is impossible to describe the confusion and horror of the scene:—hewas quite frantic, and I knew not what to do. Happily there were presentseveral kind, good-natured men, who had their recollection, and pointedout what should be done. We very soon had every possible assistance, andfor a short time we had some hope that her precious life would have beenspared to us—but that was soon at an end!

"The dear babe never throve to my satisfaction:—she was small anddelicate beyond imagination, and gave very little expectation of longlife; but she had visibly declined during the last month. * * * Mr.Sheridan made himself very miserable at first, from an apprehension thatshe had been neglected or mismanaged; but I trust he is perfectlyconvinced 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 muchmore striking, that it was impossible to see her without recalling everycirc*mstance of that afflicting scene, and he was continually in the roomindulging the sad remembrance. In this manner he indulged his feelingsfor four or five days; then, having indispensable business, he wasobliged to go to London, from whence he returned, on Sunday, apparentlyin good spirits and as well as usual. But, however he may assume theappearance of ease or cheerfulness, his heart is not of a nature to bequickly reconciled to the loss of any thing he loves. He suffers deeplyand secretly; and I dare say he will long and bitterly lament both motherand child."

The reader will, I think, feel with me, after reading the foregoingletters, as well as those of Mrs. Sheridan, given in the course of thiswork, that the impression which they altogether leave on the mind is inthe highest degree favorable to the characters both of husband and wife.There is, round the whole, an atmosphere of kindly, domestic feeling,which seems to answer for the soundness of the hearts that breathed init. The sensibility, too, displayed by Sheridan at this period, was notthat sort of passionate return to former feelings, which the prospect oflosing what it once loved might awaken in even the most alienatedheart;—on the contrary, there was a depth and mellowness in his sorrowwhich could proceed from long habits of affection alone. The idea,indeed, of seeking solace for the loss of the mother in the endearmentsof the children would occur only to one who had been accustomed to findhappiness in his home, and who therefore clung for comfort to whatremained of the wreck.

Such, I have little doubt, were the natural feelings and dispositions ofSheridan; and if the vanity of talent too often turned him aside fromtheir influence, it is but another proof of the danger of that "lightwhich leads astray," and may console those who, safe under the shadow ofmediocrity, are unvisited by such disturbing splendors.

The following letters on this occasion, from his eldest sister and herhusband, are a further proof of the warm attachment which he inspired inthose connected with him:—

"MY DEAREST BROTHER,

"Charles has just informed me that the fatal, the dreaded event has takenplace. On my knees I implore the Almighty to look down upon you in youraffliction, to strengthen your noble, your feeling heart to bear it. Ohmy beloved brother, these are sad, sad trials of fortitude. Oneconsolation, at least, in mitigation of your sorrow, I am sure youpossess,—the consciousness of having done all you could to preserve thedear angel you have lost, and to soften the last painful days of hermortal existence. Mrs. Canning wrote to me that she was in a resigned andhappy frame of mind: she is assuredly among the blest; and I feel and Ithink she looks down with benignity at my feeble efforts to soothe thatanguish I participate. Let me then conjure you, my dear brother, tosuffer me to endeavor to be of use to you. Could I have done it, I shouldhave been with you from the time of your arrival at Bristol. Theimpossibility of my going has made me miserable, and injured my health,already in a very bad state. It would give value to my life, could I beof that service I think I might be of, if I were near you; and asI cannot go to you, and as there is every reason for your quitting thescene and objects before you, perhaps you may let us have the happinessof having you here, and my dear Tom; I will write to him when my spiritsare quieter. I entreat you, my dear brother, try what change of place cando for you: your character and talents are here held in the highestestimation; and you have here some who love you beyond the affection anyin England can feel for you.

"Cuff-Street, 4th July.

"A. LEFANU."

"MY DEAR GOOD SIR,

"Wednesday, 4th July, 1792.

"Permit me to join my entreaties to Lissy's to persuade you to come overto us. A journey might be of service to you, and change of objects a realrelief to your mind. We would try every thing to divert your thoughtsfrom too intensely dwelling on certain recollections, which are yet tookeen and too fresh to be entertained with safety, at least to occupy youtoo entirely. Having been so long separated from your sister, you canhardly have an adequate idea of her love for you. I, who on manyoccasions have observed its operation, can truly and solemnly assure youthat it far exceeds any thing I could ever have supposed to have beenfelt by a sister towards a brother. I am convinced you would experiencesuch soothing in her company and conversation as would restore you toyourself sooner than any thing that could be imagined. Come, then, mydear Sir, and be satisfied you will add greatly to her comfort, and tothat of your very affectionate friend,

"J. LEFANU."

CHAPTER VI.

DRURY-LANE THEATRE.—SOCIETY OF "THE FRIENDS OF THE PEOPLE."—MADAME DEGENLIS.—WAR WITH FRANCE.—WHIG SECEDERS.—SPEECHES IN PARLIAMENT.—DEATHOF TICKELL.

The domestic anxieties of Mr. Sheridan, during this year, left but littleroom in his mind for public cares. Accordingly, we find that, after themonth of April, he absented himself from the House of Commons altogether.In addition to his apprehensions for the safety of Mrs. Sheridan, he hadbeen for some time harassed by the derangement of his theatricalproperty, which was now fast falling into a state of arrear andinvolvement, from which it never after entirely recovered.

The Theatre of Drury-Lane having been, in the preceding year, reported bythe surveyors to be unsafe and incapable of repair, it was determined toerect an entirely new house upon the same site; for the accomplishment ofwhich purpose a proposal was made, by Mr. Sheridan and Mr. Linley, toraise the sum of one hundred and fifty thousand pounds, by the means ofthree hundred debentures, of five hundred pounds each. This part of thescheme succeeded instantly; and I have now before me a list of theholders of the 300 shares, appended to the proposal of 1791, at the headof which the names of the three Trustees, on whom the Theatre wasafterwards vested in the year 1793, stand for the following number ofshares:—Albany Wallis, 20; Hammersley, 50; Richard Ford, 20. But, thoughthe money was raised without any difficulty, the completion of the newbuilding was delayed by various negotiations and obstacles, while, in themean time, the company were playing, at an enormous expense, first in theOpera-House, and afterwards at the Haymarket-Theatre, and Mr. Sheridanand Mr. Linley were paying interest for the first instalment of the loan.

To these and other causes of the increasing embarrassments of Sheridan isto be added the extravagance of his own style of living, which becamemuch more careless and profuse after death had deprived him of her, whosematernal thoughtfulness alone would have been a check upon suchimprovident waste. We are enabled to form some idea of his expensivehabits, by finding, from the letters which have just been quoted, that hewas, at the same time, maintaining three establishments,—one atWanstead, where his son resided with his tutor; another at Isleworth,which he still held, (as I learn from letters directed to him there,) in1793; and the third, his town-house, in Jermyn Street. Rich and ready aswere the resources which the Treasury of the theatre opened to him, andfertile as was his own invention in devising new schemes of finance, suchmismanaged expenditure would exhaust even his magic wealth, andthe 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 distinguished himselfby his classical attainments and graceful talent for poetry. YoungSheridan had previously been under the care of Dr. Parr, with whom heresided a considerable time at Hatton; and the friendship of this learnedman for the father could not have been more strongly shown than in thedisinterestedness with which he devoted himself to the education of theson. The following letter from him to Mr. Sheridan, in the May of thisyear, 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 saidsomething about drawing on your banker; but I do not understand theprocess, and shall not take any step. You will consult your ownconvenience about these things; for my connection with you is that offriendship and personal regard. I feel and remember slights from those Irespect, but acts of kindness I cannot forget; and, though my life hasbeen passed far more in doing than receiving services, yet I know and Ivalue the good dispositions of yourself and a few other friends,—men whoare worthy of that name from me.

"If you choose Tom to return, he knows and you know how glad I am alwaysto see him. If not, pray let him do something, and I will tell you whathe should do.

"Believe me, dear Sir,

"Yours sincerely,

"S. PARR."

In the spring of this year was established the Society of "The Friends ofthe People," for the express purpose of obtaining a Parliamentary Reform.To this Association, which, less for its professed object than for therepublican tendencies of some of its members, was particularly obnoxiousto the loyalists of the day, Mr. Sheridan, Mr. Grey, and many others ofthe leading persons of the Whig party, belonged. Their Address to thePeople of England, which was put forth in the month of April, containedan able and temperate exposition of the grounds upon which they soughtfor Reform; and the names of Sheridan, Mackintosh, Whitbread, &c., appearon the list of the Committee by which this paper was drawn up.

It is a proof of the little zeal which Mr. Fox felt at this period on thesubject of Reform, that he withheld the sanction of his name from aSociety, to which so many of his most intimate political friendsbelonged. Some notice was, indeed, taken in the House of this symptom ofbackwardness in the cause; and Sheridan, in replying to the insinuation,said that "they wanted not the signature of his Right Honorable friend toassure them I of his concurrence. They had his bond in the steadiness ofhis political principles and the integrity of his heart." Mr. Foxhimself, however, gave a more definite explanation of the circ*mstance."He might be asked," he said, "why his name was not on the list of theSociety for Reform? His reason was, that though he saw great and enormousgrievances, he did not see the remedy." It is to be doubted, indeed,whether Mr. Fox ever fully admitted the principle upon which the demandfor a Reform was founded. When he afterward espoused the question sowarmly, it seems to have been merely as one of those weapons caught up inthe heat of a warfare, in which Liberty itself appeared to him tooimminently endangered to admit of the consideration of any abstractprinciple, except that summary one of the right of resistance to powerabused. From what has been already said, too, of the language held bySheridan on this subject, it may be concluded that, though far more readythan his friend to inscribe Reform upon the banner of the party, he hadeven still less made up his mind as to the practicability or expediencyof the measure. Looking upon it as a question, the agitation of which wasuseful to Liberty, and at the same time counting upon the improbabilityof its objects being ever accomplished, he adopted at once, as we haveseen, the most speculative of all the plans that had been proposed, andflattered himself that he thus secured the benefit of the generalprinciple, without risking the inconvenience of any of the practicaldetails.

The following extract of a letter from Sheridan to one of his femalecorrespondents, at this time, will show that he did not quite approve thepolicy of Mr. Fox in holding aloof from the Reformers:—

"I am down here with Mrs. Canning and her family, while all my friendsand party are meeting in town, where I have excused myself, to lay theirwise heads together in this crisis. Again I say there is nothing but whatis unpleasant before my mind. I wish to occupy and fill my thoughts withpublic matters, and to do justice to the times, they afford materialsenough; but nothing is in prospect to make activity pleasant, or to pointone's efforts against one common enemy, making all that engage in theattack cordial, social, and united. On the contrary, every day producessome new schism and absurdity. Windham has signed a nonsensicalassociation with Lord Mulgrave; and when I left town yesterday, I wasinformed that the Divan, as the meeting at Debrett's is called,were furious at an authentic advertisem*nt from the Duke ofPortland against Charles Fox's speech in the Whig Club, which no onebefore believed to be genuine, but which they now say Dr. Lawrencebrought from Burlington-House. If this is so, depend on it there will bea direct breach in what has been called the Whig Party. Charles Fox mustcome to the Reformers openly and avowedly; and in a month four-fifths ofthe Whig Club will do the same."

The motion for the Abolition of the Slave-trade, brought forward thisyear by Mr. Wilberforce, (on whose brows it may be said, with much moretruth than of the Roman General, "Annexuit Africa lauros,") wassignalized by one of the most splendid orations that the lofty eloquenceof Mr. Pitt ever poured forth. [Footnote: It was at the conclusion ofthis speech that, in contemplating the period when Africa would, hehoped, participate in those blessings of civilization and knowledge whichwere now enjoyed by more fortunate regions, he applied the happyquotation, rendered still more striking, it is said, by the circ*mstanceof the rising sun just then shining in through the windows of the House:—

"Nos … primus equis Oriens afflavit anhelis, Illic sera rubens accendit lumina Vesper."] I mention the Debate,however, for the mere purpose of remarking, as a singularity, that, oftenas this great question was discussed in Parliament, and ample as was thescope which it afforded for the grander appeals of oratory, Mr. Sheridanwas upon no occasion tempted to utter even a syllabic on the subject,—except once for a few minutes, in the year 1787, upon some point relatingto the attendance of a witness. The two or three sentences, however, whichhe did speak on that occasion were sufficient to prove, (what, as he wasnot a West-India proprietor, no one can doubt,) that the sentimentsentertained by him on this interesting topic were, to the full extent,those which actuated not only his own party, but every real lover ofjustice and humanity throughout the world. To use a quotation which hehimself applied to another branch of the question in 1807:—

"I would not have a slave to till my ground,
To fan me when I sleep, and tremble when
I wake, for all that human sinews, bought
And sold, have ever earn'd."

The National Convention having lately, in the first paroxysm of theirrepublican vanity, conferred the honor of Citizenship upon severaldistinguished Englishmen, and, among others, upon Mr. Wilberforce and SirJames Mackintosh, it was intended, as appears by the following letterfrom Mr. Stone, (a gentleman subsequently brought into notice by thetrial of his brother for High Treason,) to invest Mr. Fox and Mr.Sheridan with the same distinction, had not the prudent interference ofMr. Stone saved them from this very questionable honor.

The following is the letter which this gentleman addressed to Sheridan onthe occasion.

"Paris, Nov. 18, Year 1, of the French Republic.

"DEAR SIR,

"I have taken a liberty with your name, of which I ought to give younotice, and offer some apology. The Convention, having lately enlargedtheir connections in Europe, are ambitious of adding to the number oftheir friends by bestowing some mark of distinction on those who havestood forth in support of their cause, when its fate hung doubtful. TheFrench conceive that they owe this obligation very eminently to you andMr. Fox; and, to show their gratitude, the Committee appointed to makethe Report has determined to offer to you and Mr. Fox the honor ofCitizenship. Had this honor never been conferred before, had it beenconferred only on worthy members of society, or were you and Mr. Fox onlyto be named at this moment, I should not have interfered. But as theyhave given the title to obscure and vulgar men and scoundrels, of whichthey are now very much ashamed themselves, I have presumed to supposethat you would think yourself much more honored in the breach than theobservance, and have therefore caused your nomination to be suspended.But I was influenced in this also by other considerations, of which onewas, that, though the Committee would be more careful in their selectionthan the last had been, yet it was probable you would not like to sharethe honors with such as would be chosen. But another more important onethat weighed with me was, that this new character would not be a smallembarrassment in the route which you have to take the next Session ofParliament, when the affairs of France must necessarily be often thesubject of discussion. No one will suspect Mr. Wilberforce of beingseduced, and no one has thought that he did any thing to render himliable to seduction; as his superstition and devotedness to Mr. Pitt havekept him perfectly à l'abri from all temptations to err on theside of liberty, civil or religious. But to you and Mr. Fox the reproachwill constantly be made, and the blockheads and knaves in the House willalways have the means of influencing the opinions of those without, byopposing with success your English character to your French one; and thatwhich is only a mark of gratitude for past services will be construed bymalignity into a bribe of some sort for services yet to be rendered. Youmay be certain that, in offering the reasons for my conduct, I blush thatI think it necessary to stoop to such prejudices. Of this, however, youwill be the best judge, and I should esteem it a favor if you wouldinform me whether I have done right, or whether I shall suffer your namesto stand as they did before my interference. There will be sufficienttime 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 wishingthe suspension, to which he has assented. Mr. O'Brien also prompted me tothis deed, and, if I have done wrong, he must take half the punishment.My address is "Rose, Huissier," under cover of the President of theNational 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 adventureof Madame de Genlis, (in the contrivance of which the practical humor ofSheridan may, I think, be detected,) occurred on the road between Londonand Dartford. This distinguished lady had, at the dose of the year 1791,with a view of escaping the turbulent scenes then passing in France, comeover with her illustrious pupil, Mademoiselle d'Orleans, and her adopteddaughter, Pamela, [Footnote: Married at Tournay in the month of December,1792, to Lord Edward Fitzgerald. Lord Edward was the only one, among thenumerous suitors of Mrs. Sheridan, to whom she is supposed to havelistened with any thing like a return of feeling; and that there shouldbe mutual admiration between two such noble specimens of human nature, itis easy, without injury to either of them, to believe.

Some months before her death, when Sheridan had been describing to herand Lord Edward a beautiful French girl whom he had lately seen, andadded that she put him strongly in mind of what his own wife had been inthe first bloom of her youth and beauty, Mrs. Sheridan turned to LordEdward, and said with a melancholy smile, "I should like you, when I amdead, to marry that girl." This was Pamela, whom Sheridan had just seenduring his visit of a few hours to Madame de Genlis, at Bury, in Suffolk,and Whom Lord Edward married in about a year after.] to England, whereshe received both from Mr. Fox and Mr. Sheridan, all that attention towhich her high character for talent, as well as the embarrassing natureof her situation at that moment, claimed for her.

The following letter from her to Mr. Fox I find inclosed in one from thelatter to Mr. Sheridan:—

"SIR,

"You have, by your infinite kindness, given me the right to show you theutmost 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 verysure and honest. I desire such a person that I could offer to him all themoney he would have for this trouble. But there is not a moment to belost on the occasion. If you could send me directly this person, youwould render me the most important service. To calm the most cruelagitation of a sensible and grateful soul shall be your reward.—Oh couldI see you but a minute!—I am uneasy, sick, unhappy; surrounded by themost dreadful snares of the fraud and wickedness; I am intrusted with themost interesting and sacred charge!—All these are my claims to hope youradvices, protection and assistance. My friends are absent in that moment;there is only two names in which I could place my confidence and myhopes, Pardon this bad language. As Hypolite I may say,

"'Songez que je vous parle une langue étrangère,'

but the feelings it expresses cannot be strangers to your heart.

"Sans avoir l'avantage d'être connue de Monsieur Fox, je prens la libertéde le supplier de comuniquer cette lettre à Mr. Sheridan, et si cedernier n'est pas à Londres, j'ose espérer de Monsieur Fox la même bontéque j'attendois de Mr. Shéridan dans l'embarras où je me trouve. Jem'adresse aux deux personnes de l'Angleterre que j'admire le plus, et jeserois doublement heureuse d'être tirée de cette perplexité et de leur enavoir l'obligation. Je serai peut être à Londres incessament. Jedésirerois vivement les y trouver; mais en attendant je souhaite avecardeur avoir ici le plus promptement possible l'homme de loi, ouseulement en êtat de donner de bons conseils que je demande. Jerenouvelle toutes mes excuses de tant d'importunités."

It was on her departure for France in the present year that thecelebrated adventure to which I have alluded, occurred; and as it is notoften that the post boys between London and Dartford are promoted intoagents of mystery or romance, I shall give the entire narrative of theevent in the lady's own words,—premising, (what Mr. Sheridan, no doubtdiscovered,) that her imagination had been for some time on the watch forsuch incidents, as she mentions, in another place, her terrors at theidea of "crossing the desert plains of Newmarket without an escort."

"We left London," says Madame de Genlis, "on our return to France the20th of October, 1792, and a circ*mstance occurred to us soextraordinary, that I ought not, I feel, to pass it over in silence. Ishall merely, however, relate the fact, without any attempt to explainit, or without adding to my recital any of those reflections which theimpartial reader will easily supply. We set out at ten o'clock in themorning in two carriages, one with six horses, and the other, in whichwere our maids, with four. I had, two months before, sent off four of myservants to Paris, so that we had with us only one French servant, and afootman, whom we had hired to attend us as far as Dover. When we wereabout a quarter of a league from London, the French servant, who hadnever made the journey from Dover to London but once before, thought heperceived that we were not in the right road, and on his making theremark to me, I perceived it also. The postillions, on being questioned,said that they had only wished to avoid a small hill, and that they wouldsoon return into the high road again. After an interval of three quartersof an hour, seeing that we still continued our way through a country thatwas entirely new to me, I again interrogated both the footman and thepostillions, and they repeated their assurance that we should soon regainthe usual road.

"Notwithstanding this, however, we still pursued our course with extremerapidity, in the same unknown route; and as I had remarked that thepost-boys and footman always answered me in a strange sort of laconicmanner, and appeared as if they were afraid to stop, my companions and Ibegan to look at each other with a mixture of surprise and uneasiness. Werenewed our inquiries, and at last they answered that it was indeed truethey had lost their way, but that they had wished to conceal it from ustill they had found the cross-road to Dartford (our first stage,) andthat now, having been for an hour and a half in that road, we had but twomiles to go before we should reach Dartford. It appeared to us verystrange that people should lose their way between London and Dover, butthe assurance that we were only half a league from Dartford dispelled thesort of vague fear that had for a moment agitated us. At last, afternearly an hour had elapsed, seeing that we still were not arrived at theend of the stage, our uneasiness increased to a degree which amountedeven to terror. It was with much difficulty that I made the post-boysstop opposite a small village which lay to our left; in spite of myshouts they still went on, till at last the French servant, (for theother did not interfere,) compelled them to stop. I then sent to thevillage to ask how far we were from Dartford, and my surprise may beguessed when I received for answer that we were now 22 miles, (more thanseven leagues,) distant from that place. Concealing my suspicions, I tooka guide in the village, and declared that it was my wish to return toLondon, as I found I was now at a less distance from that city than fromDartford. The post-boys made much resistance to my desire, and evenbehaved 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 thepostboys and the fatigue of the horses, we did not reach London beforenightfall, when I immediately drove to Mr. Sheridan's house. He wasextremely surprised to see me returned, and on my relating to him ouradventure, agreed with us that it could not have been the result of merechance. He then sent for a Justice of the Peace to examine the post-boys,who were detained till his arrival under the pretence of calculatingtheir account; but in the meantime, the hired footman disappeared andnever returned. The post-boys being examined by the Justice according tothe legal form, and in the presence of witnesses, gave their answers in avery confused way, but confessed that an unknown gentleman had come inthe morning to their masters, and carrying them from thence to apublic-house, had, by giving them something to drink, persuaded them totake the road by which we had gone. The examination was continued for along time, but no further confession could be drawn from them. Mr.Sheridan told me, that there was sufficient proof on which to ground anaction against these men, but that it would be a tedious process, andcost a great deal of money. The post-boys were therefore dismissed, andwe did not pursue the inquiry any further. As Mr. Sheridan saw the terrorI was in at the very idea of again venturing on the road to Dover, hepromised to accompany us thither himself, but added that, having someindispensable business on his hands, he could not go for some days. Hetook us then to Isleworth, a country-house which he had near Richmond, onthe banks of the Thames, and as he was not able to dispatch his businessso quickly as he expected, we remained for a month in that hospitableretreat, which both gratitude and friendship rendered so agreeable to us."

It is impossible to read this narrative, with the recollection, at thesame time, in our minds of the boyish propensity of Sheridan to what arecalled practical jokes, without strongly suspecting that he was himselfthe contriver of the whole adventure. The ready attendance of theJustice,—the "unknown gentleman" deposed to by the post-boys,—thedisappearance of the laquais, and the advice given by Sheridan that theaffair should be pursued no further,—all strongly savor of dramaticcontrivance, and must have afforded a scene not a little trying to thegravity of him who took the trouble of getting it up. With respect to hismotive, the agreeable month at his country-house sufficiently explainsit; nor could his conscience have felt much scruples about an imposture,which, so far from being attended with any disagreeable consequences,furnished the lady with an incident of romance, of which she was but toohappy to avail herself, and procured for him the presence of such adistinguished party, to grace and enliven the festivities of Isleworth.[Footnote: In the Memoirs of Madame Genlis, lately published, shesupplies a still more interesting key to his motives for such acontrivance. It appears, from the new recollections of this lady, that"he was passionately in love with Pamela," and that, before her departurefrom England, the following scene took place—"Two days before we setout, Mr. Sheridan made, in my presence, his dedication of love to Pamela,who was affected by his agreeable manner and high character, and acceptedthe offer of his hand with pleasure. In consequence of this, it wassettled that he was to marry her on our return from France, which wasexpected to take place in a fortnight." I suspect this to be but acontinuation of the Romance of Dartford.]

At the end of the month, (adds Madame de Genlis,)

"Mr. Sheridan having finished his business, we set off together forDover, himself, his son, and an English friend of his, Mr. Reid, withwhom I was but a few days acquainted. It was now near the end of themonth of November, 1792. The wind being adverse, detained us for fivedays at Dover, during all which time Mr. Sheridan remained with us. Atlast the wind grew less unfavorable, but still blew so violently thatnobody would advise me to embark. I resolved, however, to venture, andMr. Sheridan attended us into the very packet-boat, where I received hisfarewell with a feeling of sadness which I cannot express. He would havecrossed with us, but that some indispensable duty, at that moment,required his presence in England. He, however, left us Mr. Reid, who hadthe goodness to accompany us to Paris."

In 1793 war was declared between England and France. Though hostilitiesmight, for a short time longer, have been avoided, by a moreaccommodating readiness in listening to the overtures of France, and aless stately tone on the part of the English negotiator, there couldhardly have existed in dispassionate minds any hope of averting the warentirely, 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 haveeither settled at last into a less dangerous form of power, or exhaustedherself into a state of harmlessness during the process, this hope hadbeen for some time frustrated by the crusade proclaimed against herliberties by the confederated Princes of Europe. The conference atPilnitz and the Manifesto of the Duke of Brunswick had taught the Frenchpeople what they were to expect, if conquered, and had given to thatinundation of energy, under which the Republic herself was sinking, avent and direction outwards that transferred all the ruin to her enemies.In the wild career of aggression and lawlessness, of conquest without,and anarchy within, which naturally followed such an outbreak of a wholemaddened people, it would have been difficult for England, by anymanagement whatever, to keep herself uninvolved in the generalcombustion,—even had her own population been much less heartilydisposed than they were then, and ever have been, to strike in with thegreat discords of the world.

That Mr. Pitt himself was slow and reluctant to yield to the necessity ofhostile measures against France, appears from the whole course of hisfinancial policy, down to the very close of the session of 1792. Theconfidence, indeed, with which he looked forward to a long continuance ofpeace, in the midst of events, that were audibly the first mutterings ofthe earthquake, seemed but little indicative of that philosophicsagacity, which enables a statesman to see the rudiments of the Future inthe Present. [Footnote: From the following words in his Speech on thecommunication from France in 1800, he appears, himself, to have beenaware 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 inferenceis indisputable; a fact, which, I am afraid, shows not only that we werenot waiting for the occasion of war, but that, in our partiality for apacific system, we had indulged ourselves in a fond and creduloussecurity, which wisdom and discretion would not have dictated."] "It isnot unreasonable," said he on the 21st of February, 1792, "to expect thatthe peace which we now enjoy should continue at least fifteen years,since at no period of the British history, whether we consider theinternal situation of this kingdom or its relation to foreign powers, hasthe prospect of war been farther removed than at present."

In pursuance of this feeling of security, he, in the course of thesession of 1791-2, repealed taxes to the amount of 200,000_l_. ayear, made considerable reductions in the naval and militaryestablishments, and allowed the Hessian Subsidy to expire, without anymovement towards its renewal. He likewise showed his perfect confidencein the tranquillity of the country, by breaking off a negotiation intowhich he had entered with the holders of the four per cents, for thereduction of their stock to three per cent.—saying, in answer to theirdemand of a larger bonus than he thought proper to give, "Then we willput off the reduction of this stock till next year." The truth is, Mr.Pitt was proud of his financial system;—the abolition of taxes and theReduction of the National Debt were the two great results to which helooked as a proof of its perfection; and while a war, he knew, wouldproduce the very reverse of the one, it would leave little more than thename and semblance of the other.

The alarm for the safety of their establishments, which at this timepervaded the great mass of the people of England, earned the proof of itsown needlessness in the wide extent to which it spread, and the verysmall minority that was thereby left to be the object of apprehension.That in this minority, (which was, with few exceptions, confined to thelower classes,) the elements of sedition and insurrection were activelyat work, cannot be denied. There was not a corner of Europe where thesame ingredients were not brought into ferment; for the French Revolutionhad not only the violence, but the pervading influence of the Simoom, andwhile it destroyed where it immediately passed, made itself felt everywhere. But, surrounded and watched as were the few disaffected inEngland, by all the rank, property and power of the country,—animated atthat moment by a more than usual portion of loyalty,—the dangers fromsedition, as yet, were by no means either so deep or extensive, as that astrict and vigilant exercise of the laws already in being, would not havebeen abundantly adequate to all the purposes of their suppression.

The admiration, indeed, with which the first dawn of the Revolution washailed had considerably abated. The excesses into which the new Republicbroke loose had alienated the worship of most of its higher class ofvotaries, and in some, as in Mr. Windham, had converted enthusiasticadmiration into horror;—so that, though a strong sympathy with thegeneral cause of the Revolution was still felt among the few Whigs thatremained, the profession of its wild, republican theories was chieflyconfined to two classes of persons, who coincide more frequently thanthey themselves imagine,—the speculative and the ignorant.

The Minister, however, gave way to a panic which, there is every reasonto believe, he did not himself participate, and in going out of theprecincts of the Constitution for new and arbitrary powers, established aseries of fatal precedents, of which alarmed Authority will be always buttoo ready to avail itself. By these stretches of power he produced—whatwas far more dangerous than all the ravings of club politicians—thatvehement reaction of feeling on the part of Mr. Fox and his followers,which increased with the increasing rigor of the government, andsometimes led them to the brink of such modes and principles ofopposition, as aggressions, so wanton, upon liberty alone could haveeither provoked or justified.

The great promoters of the alarm were Mr. Burke, and those other WhigSeceders, who had for some time taken part with the administrationagainst their former friends, and, as is usual with such proselytes,outran those whom they joined, on every point upon which they before mostdiffered from them. To justify their defection, the dangers upon whichthey grounded it, were exaggerated; and the eagerness with which theycalled for restrictions upon the liberty of the subject was but tooworthy of deserters not only from their post but from their principles.One striking difference between these new pupils of Toryism and theirmaster was with respect to the ultimate object of the war.—Mr. Pittbeing of opinion that security against the power of France, without anyinterference whatever with her internal affairs, was the sole aim towhich hostilities should be directed; while nothing less than therestoration of the Bourbons to the power which they possessed before theassembling of the Etats Genereaux could satisfy Mr. Burke and his fellowconverts to the cause of Thrones and Hierarchies. The effect of thisdiversity of objects upon the conduct of the war—particularly after Mr.Pitt had added to "Security for the future," the suspicious supplement of"Indemnity for the past"—was no less fatal to the success of operationsabroad than to the unity of councils at home. So separate, indeed, werethe views of the two parties considered, that the unfortunate expedition,in aid of the Vendean insurgents in 1795, was known to be peculiarly themeasure of the Burke part of the cabinet, and to have beenundertaken on the sole responsibility of their ministerial organ, Mr.Windham.

It must be owned, too, that the obect of the Alarmists in the war,however grossly inconsistent with their former principles, had the meritof being far more definite than that of Mr. Pitt; and, had it been singlyand consistently pursued from the first, with all the vigor andconcentration of means so strenuously recommended by Mr. Burke, mighthave justified its quixotism in the end by a more speedy and less ruinoussuccess. As it was, however, the divisions, jealousies and alarms whichMr. Pitt's views towards a future dismemberment of France excited notonly among the Continental powers, but among the French themselves,completely defeated every hope and plan for either concert without or cooperation within. At the same time, the distraction of the efforts ofEngland from the heart of French power to its remote extremities, in whatMr. Windham called "a war upon sugar Islands," was a waste of means asunstatesmanlike as it was calamitous, and fully entitled Mr. Pitt to thesatire on his policy, conveyed in the remark of a certain distinguishedlady, who said to him, upon hearing of some new acquisition in the WestIndies, "I protest, Mr. Pitt, if you go on thus, you will soon be masterof every island in the world except just those two little ones, Englandand Ireland." [Footnote: Mr. Sheridan quoted this anecdote in one of hisspeeches in 1794.]

That such was the light in which Mr. Sheridan himself viewed the mode ofcarrying on the war recommended by the Alarmists, in comparison with thatwhich Mr. Pitt in general adopted, appears from the following passage inhis speech upon Spanish affairs in the year 1808:—

"There was hardly a person, except his Right Honorable Friend near him,(Mr. Windham,) and Mr. Burke, who since the Revolution of France hadformed adequate notions of the necessary steps to be taken. The variousgovernments which this country had seen during that period were alwaysemployed in filching for a sugar-island, or some other object ofcomparatively trifling moment, while the main and principal purpose waslost and forgotten,"

Whatever were the failures of Mr. Pitt abroad, at home his ascendancy wasfixed and indisputable; and, among all the triumphs of power which heenjoyed during his career, the tribute now paid to him by the WhigAristocracy, in taking shelter under his ministry from the dangers ofRevolution, could not have been the least gratifying to his haughtyspirit. 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 Nobilityof both parties. His own estimate of rank may be fairly collected bothfrom the indifference which he showed to its honors himself, and from thedepreciating profusion with which he lavished them upon others. It may bedoubted whether his respect for Aristocracy was much increased, by thereadiness which he now saw in some of his high-born opponents, tovolunteer for safety into his already powerful ranks, without evenpausing to try the experiment, whether safety might not have beenreconcilable with principle in their own. It is certain that, without theaccession of so much weight and influence, he never could have venturedupon the violations of the Constitution that followed—nor would theOpposition, accordingly, have been driven by these excesses of power intothat reactive violence which was the natural consequence of an effort toresist them. The prudent apprehensions, therefore, of these Noble Whigswould have been much more usefully as well as honorably employed, inmingling with, and moderating the proceedings of the friends of Liberty,than in ministering fresh fuel to the zeal and vindictiveness of herenemies. [Footnote: The case against these Noble Seceders is thusspiritedly stated by Lord Moira:—

"I cannot ever sit in a cabinet with the Duke of Portland. He appears tome to have done more injury to the Constitution and to the estimation ofthe higher ranks in this country than any man on the political stage. Byhis 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 forso many years urged against Mr. Put were groundless, or that, beingsolid, there was no difficulty in waving them when a convenient partitionof powers and emoluments was proposed. In either case the people mustinfer that the constitutional principle which can be so played with isunimportant, and that parliamentary professions are no security."—Letter from the Earl of Moira to Colonel M'Mahon, in 1797.Parliamentary History.]

It may be added, too, that in allowing themselves to be persuaded byBurke, that the extinction of the ancient Noblesse of France portendednecessarily any danger to the English Aristocracy, these Noble personsdid injustice to the strength of their own order, and to thecharacteristics by which it is proudly distinguished from every otherrace of Nobility in Europe. Placed, as a sort of break-water, between thePeople and the Throne, in a state of double responsibility to liberty onone side, and authority on the other, the Aristocracy of England hold astation which is dignified by its own great duties, and of which thetitles transmitted by their ancestors form the least important ornament.Unlike the Nobility of other countries, where the rank and privileges ofthe father are multiplied through his offspring, and equally elevate themall above the level of the community, the very highest English Noblemanmust consent to be the father but of commoners. Thus, connected with theclass below him by private as well as public sympathies, he gives hischildren to the People as hostages for the sincerity of his zeal in theircause—while on the other hand, the People, in return for these pledgesof the Aristocracy, sends a portion of its own elements aloft into thathigher region, to mingle with its glories and assert their claim to ashare in its power. By this mutual transfusion an equilibrium ispreserved, like that which similar processes maintain in the naturalworld, and while a healthy, popular feeling circulates through theAristocracy, a sense of their own station in the scale elevates thePeople.

To tremble for the safety of a Nobility so constituted, without muchstronger grounds for alarm than appear to have existed in 1793, was aninjustice not only to that class itself, but the whole nation. The worldhas never yet afforded an example, where this artificial distinctionbetween mankind has been turned to such beneficial account; and as nomonarchy can exist without such an order, so, in any other shape thanthis, such an order is a burden and a nuisance. In England, so happy aconformation of her Aristocracy is one of those fortuitous results whichtime and circ*mstances have brought out in the long-tried experiment ofher Constitution; and, while there is no chance of its being ever againattained in the Old World, there is but little, probability of its beingattempted in the New,—where the youthful nations now springing intolife, will, if they are wise, make the most of the free career beforethem, and unencumbered with the costly trappings of feudalism, adopt,like their northern neighbors, that form of government, whose simplicityand cheapness are the best guarantees for its efficacy and purity.

In judging of the policy of Mr. Pitt, during the Revolutionary war, hispartisans, we know, laud it as having been the means of salvation toEngland, while his opponents assert that it was only prevented by chancefrom being her ruin—and though the event gives an appearance of triumphto the former opinion, it by no means removes or even weakens the groundsof the latter. During the first nine years of his administration, Mr.Pitt was, in every respect, an able and most useful minister, and, "whilethe sea was calm, showed mastership in floating." But the great eventsthat happened afterwards took him by surprise. When he came to lookabroad from his cabinet into the storm that was brewing through Europe,the clear and enlarged view of the higher order of statesman was wanting.Instead of elevating himself above the influence of the agitation andalarm that prevailed, he gave way to it with the crowd of ordinary minds,and even took counsel from the panic of others. The consequence was aseries of measures, violent at home and inefficient abroad—far short ofthe mark where vigor was wanting, and beyond it, as often, where vigorwas mischievous.

When we are told to regard his policy as the salvation of thecountry—when, (to use a figure of Mr. Dundas,) a claim of salvageis made for him—it may be allowed us to consider a little the nature ofthe measures by which this alleged salvation was achieved. If enteringinto a great war without either consistency of plan, or preparation ofmeans, and with a total ignorance of the financial resources of the enemy[Footnote: Into his erroneous calculations upon this point he issupposed to have been led by Sir Francis D'Ivernois.]—if allowing onepart of the Cabinet to flatter the French Royalists, with the hope ofseeing the Bourbons restored to undiminished power, while the other partacted, whenever an opportunity offered, upon the plan of dismemberingFrance for the aggrandizement of Austria, and thus, at once, alienatedPrussia at the very moment of subsidizing him, and lost the confidence ofall the Royalist party in France, [Footnote: Among other instances, theAbbé Maury is reported to have said at Rome in a large company of hiscountrymen—"Still we have one remedy—let us not allow France to bedivided—we have seen the partition of Poland we must all turn Jacobinsto preserve our country."] except the few who were ruined by Englishassistance at Quiberon—if going to war in 1793 for the right of theDutch to a river, and so managing it that in 1794 the Dutch lost theirwhole Seven Provinces—if lavishing more money upon failures than thesuccesses of a century had cost, and supporting this profusion by schemesof finance, either hollow and delusive, like the Sinking Fund, ordesperately regardless of the future, like the paper issues—if drivingIreland into rebellion by the perfidious recall of Lord Fitzwilliam, andreducing England to two of the most, fearful trials, that a nation,depending upon Credit and a navy, could encounter, the stoppage of herBank and a mutiny in her fleet—if, finally, floundering on from effortto effort against France, and then dying upon the ruins of the lastCoalition he could muster against her—if all this betokens a wise andable minister, then is Mr. Pitt most amply entitled to that name;—thenare the lessons of wisdom to be read, like Hebrew, backward, and wasteand rashness and systematic failure to be held the only true means ofsaving a country.

Had even success, by one of those anomalous accidents, which sometimesbaffle the best founded calculations of wisdom, been the immediate resultof this long monotony of error, it could not, except with those to whomthe event is every thing—"Eventus, stultorum magister"[Footnote: A saying of the wise Fabius.]—reflect back merit upon themeans by which it was achieved, or, by a retrospective miracle, convertthat into wisdom, which chance had only saved from the worst consequencesof folly. Just as well might we be called upon to pronounce Alchemy awise art, because a perseverance in its failures and reveries had led byaccident to the discoveries of Chemistry. But even this sanction ofgood-luck was wanting to the unredeemed mistakes of Mr. Pitt. During theeight years that intervened between his death and the termination of thecontest, the adoption of a far wiser policy was forced upon his moretractable pupils; and the only share that his measures can claim in thesuccessful issue of the war, is that of having produced the grievancethat was then abated—of having raised up the power opposed to him to theportentous and dizzy height, from which it then fell by the giddiness ofits own elevation, [Footnote:

—"summisque negatumStare din."

LUCAN.] and by the reaction, not of the Princes, but the People of Europeagainst 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 Ministerduring this period, must be left to that superhuman knowledge, which theschoolmen call "media scientia," and which consists in knowing allthat would have happened, had events been otherwise than they have been.It is probable that some of the results would not have been so differentas the respective principles of Mr. Pitt and Mr. Fox might naturally leadus, on the first thought, to assert. If left to himself, there is littledoubt that the latter, from the simple and fearless magnanimity of hisnature, would have consulted for the public safety with that moderationwhich true courage inspires; and that, even had it been necessary tosuspend the Constitution for a season, he would have known how to veilthe statue of Liberty, [Footnote: "Il y a des cas ou il faut mettrepour un moment un voile sur la Liberté, comme l'on cache les statues desdieux."—MONTESQUIEU, liv. xii. chap. 20.] without leaving like hisrival, such marks of mutilation on its limbs. But it is to be recollectedthat he would have had to encounter, in his own ranks, the very samepatrician alarm, which could even to Mr. Pitt give an increase ofmomentum against liberty, and which the possession of power would haverendered but more sensitive and arbitrary. Accustomed, too, as he hadlong been, to yield to the influence of Burke, it would have requiredmore firmness than habitually belonged to Mr. Fox, to withstand thepersevering impetuosity of such a counsellor, or keep the balance of hismind unshaken by those stupendous powers, which, like the horses of theSun breaking out of the ecliptic, carried every thing they seized upon,so splendidly astray:—

"quaque impetus egit,
Hac sine lege ruunt, altoque sub aethere fixis
Incursant stellis, rapiuntque per avia currum."

Where'er the impulse drives, they burst 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 ofthe respective parties of England, during the Crusade now begun againstthe French people, I shall content myself with briefly and cursorilynoticing the chief questions upon which Mr. Sheridan distinguishedhimself, in the course of the parliamentary campaigns that followed. Thesort of guerilla warfare, which he and the rest of the small bandattached to Mr. Fox carried on, during this period, against the invadersof the Constitution, is interesting rather by its general character thanits detail; for in these, as usual, the episodes of party personality arefound to encroach disproportionately on the main design, and the grandeurof the cause, as viewed at a distance, becomes diminished to ourimaginations by too near an approach. Englishmen, however, will long lookback to that crisis with interest; and the names of Fox, of Sheridan, andof Grey will be affectionately remembered, when that sort of falseelevation, which party-feeling now gives to the reputations of some whowere opposed to them, shall have subsided to its due level, or beensucceeded by oblivion. They who act against the general sympathies ofmankind, however they may be artificially buoyed up for the moment, havethe current against them in the long run of fame; while the reputation ofthose, whose talents have been employed upon the popular and generousside of human feelings, receives, through all time, an acceleratingimpulse from the countless hearts that go with it in its course. LordChatham, even now, supersedes his son in fame, and will leave him at animmeasurable distance with posterity.

Of the events of the private life of Mr. Sheridan, during this stormypart of his political career, there remain but few memorials among hispapers. As an illustration, however, of his love of betting—the onlysort of gambling in which he ever indulged—the following curious listof his wagers for the year is not unamusing:—

"25th May, 1793.—Mr. Sheridan bets Gen. Fitzpatrick one hundredguineas to fifty guineas, that within two years from this date somemeasure is adopted in Parliament which shall be (bonâ fide)considered as the adoption of a Parliamentary Reform.

"29th January, 1793.—Mr. S. bets Mr. Boothby Clopton five hundredguineas, that there is a Reform in the Representation of the people ofEngland within three years from the date hereof.

"29th January, 1793.—Mr. S. bets Mr. Hardy one hundred guineas tofifty guineas, that Mr. W. Windham does not represent Norwich at the nextgeneral election.

"29th January, 1793.—Mr. S. bets Gen. Fitzpatrick fifty guineas,that a corps of British troops are sent to Holland within two months ofthe date hereof.

"18th March, 1793.—Mr. S. bets Lord Titchfield two hundredguineas, that the D. of Portland is at the head of an Administration onor before the 18th of March, 1796; Mr. Fox to decide whether any placethe Duke may then fill shall bonâ fide come within the meaning ofthis bet.

"25th March, 1793.—Mr. S. bets Mr. Hardy one hundred guineas,that the three per cent. consols are as high this day twelvemonth as atthe 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. St. A. St. John fifteen guineas to five guineas, ditto.—Mr. S. bets
Lord Sefton one hundred and forty guineas to forty guineas, ditto.

"19th March, 1793.—Lord Titchfield and Lord W. Russell bet Mr. S.three hundred guineas to two hundred guineas, that Mr. Pitt is first Lordof the Treasury on the 19th of March, 1795.

"18th March, 1793.—Lord Titchfield bets Mr. S. twenty-fiveguineas to fifty guineas, that Mr. W. Windham represents Norwich at thenext general election."

As a sort of moral supplement to this strange list, and one of thoseinsights into character and conduct which it is the duty of a biographerto give, I shall subjoin a letter, connected evidently with one of theabove speculations:—

"SIR,

"I am very sorry that I have been so circ*mstanced as to have beenobliged to disappoint you respecting the payment of the five hundredguineas: when I gave the draughts on Lord * * I had every reason to beassured he would accept them, as * * had also. I enclose you, as you willsee by his desire, the letter in which he excuses his not being able topay me this part of a larger sum he owes me, and I cannot refuse him anytime he requires, however inconvenient to me. I also enclose you twodraughts accepted by a gentleman from whom the money will be due to me,and on whose punctuality I can rely. I extremely regret that I cannot atthis juncture command the money.

"At the same time that I regret your being put to any inconvenience bythis delay, I cannot help adverting to the circ*mstance which perhapsmisled me into the expectation that you would not unwillingly allow meany reasonable time I might want for the payment of this bet. Thecirc*mstance I mean, however discreditable the plea, is the totalinebriety of some of the party, particularly of myself, when I made thispreposterous bet. I doubt not you will remember having yourself observedon this circ*mstance to a common friend the next day, with an intimationthat you should not object to being off; and for my part, when I wasinformed that I had made such a bet and for such a sum,—the first, suchfolly on the face of it on my part, and the latter so out of mypractice,—I certainly should have proposed the cancelling it, but that,from the intimation imparted to me, I hoped the proposition might comefrom you.

"I hope I need not for a moment beg you not to imagine that I am nowalluding to these circ*mstances as the slightest invalidation of yourdue. So much the contrary, that I most perfectly admit that from your nothaving heard any thing further from me on the subject, and especiallyafter I might have heard that if I desired it the bet might be off, youhad every reason to conclude that I was satisfied with the wager, andwhether made in wine or not, was desirous of abiding by it. And this wasfurther confirmed by my receiving soon after from you 100_l_, onanother bet won by me.

"Having, I think, put this point very fairly, I again repeat that my onlymotive for alluding to the matter was, as some explanation of my seemingdilatoriness, which certainly did in part arise from always conceivingthat, whenever I should state what was my real wish the day after the betwas made, you would be the more disposed to allow a little time;—thesame statement admitting, as it must, the bet to be as clearly and asfairly won as possible; in short, as if I had insisted on it myself thenext morning.

"I have said more perhaps on the subject than can be necessary; but Ishould 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.

"R. B. SHERIDAN."

Of the public transactions of Sheridan at this time, his speeches are thebest record. To them, therefore, I shall henceforward principally refermy readers,—premising, that though the reports of his latter speechesare somewhat better, in general, than those of his earlier displays, theystill do great injustice to his powers, and exhibit little more than themere Torso of his eloquence, curtailed of all those accessoriesthat lent motion and beauty to its form. The attempts to give theterseness of his wit particularly fail, and are a strong illustration ofwhat he himself once said to Lord * *. That Nobleman, who among his manyexcellent qualities does not include a very lively sense of humor, havingexclaimed, upon hearing some good anecdote from Sheridan, "I'll go andtell that to our friend * *." Sheridan called him back instantly andsaid, with much gravity, "For God's sake, don't, my dear * *: a joke isno laughing matter in your mouth."

It is, indeed, singular, that all the eminent English orators—with theexception of Mr. Burke and Mr. Windham—should have been so littleanxious for the correct transmission of their eloquence to posterity. Hadnot Cicero taken more care of even his extemporaneous effusions, weshould have lost that masterly burst of the moment, to which the clemencyof Caesar towards Marcellus gave birth. The beautiful fragments we haveof Lord Chatham are rather traditional than recorded;—there are but two,I believe, of the speeches of Mr. Pitt corrected by himself, those on theBudget of 1792, and on the Union with Ireland;—Mr. Fox committed towriting but one of his, namely, the tribute to the memory of the Duke ofBedford;—and the only speech of Mr. Sheridan, that is known withcertainty to have passed under his own revision, was that which he madeat the opening of the following session, (1794,) in answer to LordMornington.

In the course of the present year he took frequent opportunities ofexpressing his disgust at that spirit of ferocity which had so deeplydisgraced the cause of the Revolution. So earnest was his interest in thefate of the Royal Family of France, that, as appears from one of hisspeeches, he drew up a paper on the subject, and transmitted it to therepublican rulers;—with the view, no doubt, of conveying to them thefeelings of the English Opposition, and endeavoring to avert, by theinfluence of his own name and that of Mr. Fox, the catastrophe thatawaited those Royal victims of liberty. Of this interesting document Icannot discover any traces.

In one of his answers to Burke on the subject of the French Revolution,adverting to the charge of Deism and Atheism brought against therepublicans, he says,

"As an argument to the feelings and passions of men, the Honorable Memberhad great advantages in dwelling on this topic; because it was a subjectwhich those who disliked everything that had the air of cant andprofession on the one hand, or of indifference on the other, found itawkward to meddle with. Establishments, tests, and matters of thatnature, were proper objects of political discussion in that House, butnot general charges of Atheism and Deism, as pressed upon theirconsideration by the Honorable Gentleman. Thus far, however, he wouldsay, and it was an opinion he had never changed or concealed, that,although no man can command his conviction, he had ever considered adeliberate disposition to make proselytes in infidelity as anunaccountable depravity. Whoever attempted to pluck the belief or theprejudice on this subject, style it which he would, from the bosom of oneman, woman, or child, committed a brutal outrage, the motive for which hehad never been able to trace or conceive."

I quote these words as creditable to the feeling and good sense ofSheridan. Whatever may be thought of particular faiths and sects, abelief in a life beyond this world is the only thing that pierces throughthe walls of our prison-house, and lets hope shine in upon a scene, thatwould be otherwise bewildered and desolate. The proselytism of theAtheist is, indeed, a dismal mission. That believers, who have each thesame heaven in prospect, should invite us to join them on theirrespective ways to it, is at least a benevolent officiousness,—but thathe, who has no prospect or hope himself, should seek for companionship inhis road to annihilation, can only be explained by that tendency in humancreatures to count upon each other in their despair, as well as theirhope.

In the speech upon his own motion relative to the existence of seditiouspractices in the country, there is some lively ridicule, upon the panicthen prevalent. For instance:—

"The alarm had been brought forward in great pomp and form on Saturdaymorning. At night all the mail-coaches were stopped; the Duke of Richmondstationed himself, among other curiosities, at the Tower; a greatmunicipal officer, too, had made a discovery exceedingly beneficial tothe people of this country. He meant the Lord Mayor of London, who hadfound out that there was at the King's Arms at Cornhill a DebatingSociety, where principles of the most dangerous tendency were propagated;where people went to buy treason at sixpence a head; where it wasretailed to them by the glimmering of an inch of candle; and fiveminutes, to be measured by the glass, were allowed to each traitor toperform his part in overturning the State."

It was in the same speech that he gave the well-known and happy turn tothe motto of the Sun newspaper, which was at that time known to be theorgan of the Alarmists. "There was one paper," he remarked, "inparticular, said to be the property of members of that House, andpublished and conducted under their immediate direction, which had forits motto a garbled part of a beautiful sentence, when it might, withmuch more propriety, have assumed the whole—

"Solem quis dicere falsum
Audeat? Ille etiam cacos instare tumultus
Saepe monet, fraudemque et operta tumescere bella."

Among the subjects that occupied the greatest share of his attentionduring this Session, was the Memorial of Lord Auckland to theStates-General,—which document he himself brought under the notice ofParliament as deserving of severe reprobation for the violent andvindictive tone which it assumed towards the Commissioners of theNational Convention. It was upon one of the discussions connected withthis subject that a dispute, as to the correct translation of the word"malheureux" was maintained with much earnestness between him andLord Melville—two persons, the least qualified, perhaps, of any in theHouse, to volunteer as either interpreters or pronouncers of the Frenchlanguage. According to Sheridan, "ces malheureux" was to betranslated "these wretches," while Lord Melville contended, to the nosmall amusem*nt of the House, that "mollyroo" (as he pronouncedit,) meant no more than "these unfortunate gentlemen."

In the November of this year Mr. Sheridan lost by a kind of death whichmust have deepened the feeling of the loss, the most intimate of all hiscompanions, Tickell. If congeniality of dispositions and pursuits werealways a strengthener of affection, the friendship between Tickell andSheridan ought to have been of the most cordial kind; for they resembledeach other in almost every particular—in their wit, their wants, theirtalent, and their thoughtlessness. It is but too true, however, thatfriendship in general gains far less by such a community of pursuit thanit loses by the competition that naturally springs out of it; and thattwo wits or two beauties form the last sort of alliance, in which weought to look for specimens of sincere and cordial friendship. Theintercourse between Tickell and Sheridan was not free from suchcollisions of vanity. They seem to have lived, indeed, in a state ofalternate repulsion and attraction; and, unable to do without theexcitement of each other's vivacity, seldom parted without trials oftemper as well as of wit. Being both, too, observers of character, andeach finding in the other rich materials for observation, their love ofridicule could not withstand such a temptation, and they freelycriticised each other to common friends, who, as is usually the case,agreed with both. Still, however, there was a whim and sprightliness evenabout their mischief, which made it seem rather an exercise of ingenuitythan an indulgence of ill nature; and if they had not carried on thisintellectual warfare, neither would have liked the other half so well.

The two principal productions of Tickell, the "Wreath of Fashion" and"Anticipation," were both upon temporary subjects, and have accordinglypassed into oblivion. There are, however, some graceful touches ofpleasantry in the poem; and the pamphlet, (which procured for him notonly fame but a place in the Stamp-office,) contains passages of whichthe application and the humor have not yet grown stale. As Sheridan isthe hero of the Wreath of Fashion, it is but right to quote the versesthat relate to him; and I do it with the more pleasure, because they alsocontain a well-merited tribute to Mrs. Sheridan. After a description ofthe various poets of the day that deposit their offerings in LadyMillar'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."

In the year 1781, Tickell brought out at Drury-Lane an opera called "TheCarnival of Venice," on which there is the following remark in Mrs.Crouch's Memoirs:—"Many songs in this piece so perfectly resemble inpoetic beauty those which adorn The Duenna, that they declare themselvesto be the offspring of the same muse." I know not how far this conjecturemay be founded, but there are four pretty lines which I remember in thisopera, and which, it may be asserted without hesitation, Sheridan neverwrote. He had no feeling for natural scenery, [Footnote: In corroborationof this remark, I have been allowed to quote the following passage of aletter written by a very eminent person, whose name all lovers of thePicturesque associate with their best enjoyment of its beauties:—

"At one time I saw a good deal of Sheridan—he and his first wife passedsome time here, and he is an instance that a taste for poetry and forscenery are not always united. Had this house been in the midst ofHounslow Heath, he could not have taken less interest in all around it:his delight was in shooting, all and every day, and my game-keeper saidthat of all the gentlemen he had ever been out with he never knew so bada shot."] nor is there a trace of such a sentiment discoverable throughhis poetry. The following, as well as I can recollect, are the lines:—

"And while the moon shines on the stream,
And as soft music breathes around,
The feathering oar returns the gleam,
And dips in concert to the sound."

I have already given a humorous Dedication of the Rivals, written byTickell on the margin of a copy of that play in my possession. I shallnow add another piece of still more happy humor, with which he hasfilled, in very neat hand-writing, the three or four first pages of thesame copy.

"The Rivals, a Comedy—one of the best in the English language—writtenas long ago as the reign of George the Third. The author's name wasSheridan—he is mentioned by the historians of that age as a man ofuncommon abilities, very little improved by cultivation. His confidencein the resources of his own genius and his aversion to any sort of laborwere so great that he could not be prevailed upon to learn either to reador write. He was, for a short time, Manager of one the play-houses, andconceived the extraordinary and almost incredible project of composing aplay extempore, which he was to recite in the Green-room to the actors,who were immediately to come on the stage and perform it. The playersrefusing to undertake their parts at so short a notice, and with solittle preparation, he threw up the management in disgust.

"He was a member of the last Parliaments that were summoned in England,and signalized himself on many occasions by his wit and eloquence, thoughhe seldom came to the House till the debate was nearly concluded, andnever spoke, unless he was drunk. He lived on a footing of great intimacywith the famous Fox, who is said to have concerted with him the audaciousattempt which he made, about the year 1783, to seize the whole propertyof the East India Company, amounting at that time to above12,000,000_l_. sterling, and then to declare himself Lord Protectorof the realm by the title of Carlo Khan. This desperate scheme actuallyreceived the consent of the lower House of Parliament, the majority ofwhom were bribed by Fox, or intimidated by his and Sheridan's threats andviolence: and it is generally believed that the Revolution would havetaken place, if the Lords of the King's Bedchamber had not in a bodysurrounded the throne and shown the most determined resolution not toabandon their posts but with their lives. The usurpation being defeated,Parliament was dissolved and loaded with infamy. Sheridan was one of thefew members of it who were re-elected:—the Burgesses of Stafford, whomhe had kept in a constant state of intoxication for near three weeks,chose him again to represent them, which he was well qualified to do.

"Fox's Whig party being very much reduced, or rather almost annihilated,he and the rest of the conspirators remained quiet for some time; till,in the year 1788, the French, in conjunction with Tippoo Sultan, havingsuddenly seized and divided between themselves the whole of the Britishpossessions in India, the East India Company broke, and a nationalbankruptcy was apprehended. During this confusion Fox and his partisansassembled in large bodies, and made a violent attack in Parliament onPitt, the King's first minister:—Sheridan supported and seconded him.Parliament seemed disposed to inquire into the cause of the calamity: thenation was almost in a state of actual rebellion; and it is impossiblefor us, at the distance of three hundred years, to form any judgment whatdreadful consequences might have followed, if the King, by the advice ofthe Lords of the Bedchamber, had not dissolved the Parliament, and takenthe administration of affairs into his own hands, and those of a fewconfidential servants, at the head of whom he was pleased to place oneMr. Atkinson, a merchant, who had acquired a handsome fortune in theJamaica trade, and passed universally for a man of unblemished integrity.His Majesty having now no farther occasion for Pitt, and being desirousof rewarding him for his past services, and, at the same time, finding anadequate employment for his great talents, caused him to enter into holyorders, and presented him with the Deanery of Windsor; where he became anexcellent preacher, and published several volumes of sermons, all ofwhich are now lost.

"To return to Sheridan:—on the abrogation of Parliaments, he enteredinto a closer connection than ever with Fox and a few others of lessernote, forming together as desperate and profligate a gang as everdisgraced a civilized country. They were guilty of every species ofenormity, and went so far as even to commit robberies on the highway,with a degree of audacity that could be equalled only by the ingenuitywith which they escaped conviction. Sheridan, not satisfied with eluding,determined to mock the justice of his country, and composed a Masquecalled 'The Foresters,' containing a circ*mstantial account of some ofthe robberies he had committed, and a good deal of sarcasm on thepusillanimity of those whom he had robbed, and the inefficacy of thepenal laws of the kingdom. This piece was acted at Drury-Lane Theatrewith great applause, to the astonishment of all sober persons, and thescandal of the nation. His Majesty, who had long wished to curb thelicentiousness of the press and the theatres, thought this a goodopportunity. He ordered the performers to be enlisted into the army, theplay-house to be shut up, and all theatrical exhibitions to be forbid onpain of death, Drury-Lane play-house was soon after converted into abarrack for soldiers, which it has continued to be ever since. Sheridanwas arrested, and, it was imagined, would have suffered the rack, if hehad not escaped from his guard by a stratagem, and gone over to Irelandin a balloon with which his friend Fox furnished him. Immediately on hisarrival in Ireland, he put himself at the head of a party of the mostviolent Reformers, commanded a regiment of Volunteers at the siege ofDublin in 1791, and was supposed to be the person who planned the schemefor tarring and feathering Mr. Jenkinson, the Lord Lieutenant, andforcing him in that condition to sign the capitulation of the Castle. Thepersons who were to execute this strange enterprise had actually got intothe Lord Lieutenant's apartment at midnight, and would probably havesucceeded in their project, if Sheridan, who was intoxicated withwhiskey, a strong liquor much in vogue with the Volunteers, had notattempted to force open the door of Mrs. ——'s bed-chamber, and so giventhe alarm to the garrison, who instantly flew to arms, seized Sheridanand every one of his party, and confined them in the castle-dungeon.Sheridan was ordered for execution the next day, but had no sooner gothis 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 serious advice and admonition, to bringhim to a proper sense of his dreadful situation, he grinned, made facesat him, tried to tickle him, and played a thousand other pranks with suchastonishing drollery, that the gravest countenances became cheerful, andthe saddest hearts glad. The soldiers who attended at the gallows were sodelighted with his merriment, which they deemed magnanimity, that thesheriffs began to apprehend a rescue, and ordered the hangman instantlyto do his duty. He went off in a loud horse-laugh, and cast a looktowards the Castle, accompanied with a gesture expressive of no greatrespect.

"Thus ended the life of this singular and unhappy man—a melancholyinstance of the calamities that attend the misapplication of great andsplendid ability. He was married to a very beautiful and amiable woman,for whom he is said to have entertained an unalterable affection. He hadone son, a boy of the most promising hopes, whom he would never suffer tobe instructed in the first rudiments of literature. He amused himself,however, with teaching the boy to draw portraits with his toes, in whichhe soon became so astonishing a proficient that he seldom failed to takea 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 'Macpherson's
Moral History,' Art. 'Drunkenness.'"

CHAPTER VII.

SPEECH IN ANSWER TO LORD MORNINGTON.—COALITION OF THE WHIG SECEDERS WITHMR. PITT.—MR. CANNING.—EVIDENCE ON THE TRIAL OF HORNE TOOKE.—THE"GLORIOUS FIRST OF JUNE."—MARRIAGE OF MR. SHERIDAN.—PAMPHLET OF MR.REEVES.—DEBTS OF THE PRINCE OF WALES.—SHAKSPEARE MANUSCRIPTS.—TRIALOF STONE.—MUTINY AT THE NORE.—SECESSION OF MR. FOX FROM PARLIAMENT.

In the year 1794, the natural consequences of the policy pursued by Mr.
Pitt began rapidly to unfold themselves both at home and abroad.
[Footnote: 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 this Nobleman pass, without briefly expressingthe deep gratitude which I feel to him, not only for his own kindness tome, when introduced, as a boy, to his notice, but for the friendship ofhis truly Noble descendant, which I, in a great degree, owe to him, andwhich has long been the pride and happiness of my life.] The confederatedPrinces of the Continent, among whom the gold of England was now the solebond of union, had succeeded as might be expected from so noble anincentive, and, powerful only in provoking France, had by every step theytook but ministered to her aggrandizement. In the mean time, the measuresof the English Minister at home were directed to the two great objects ofhis legislation—the raising of supplies and the suppressing of sedition;or, in other words, to the double and anomalous task of making the peoplepay for the failures of their Royal allies, and suffer for their sympathywith the success of their republican enemies. It is the opinion of alearned Jesuit that it was by aqua regia the Golden Calf of theIsraelites was dissolved—and the cause of Kings was the Royal solvent,in which the wealth of Great Britain now melted irrecoverably away. Whilethe successes, too, of the French had already lowered the tone of theMinister from projects of aggression to precautions of defence, thewounds which in the wantonness of alarm, he had inflicted on theliberties of the country, were spreading an inflammation around them thatthreatened real danger. The severity of the sentence upon Muir and Palmerin Scotland, and the daring confidence with which charges of High Treasonwere exhibited against persons who were, at the worst, but indiscreetreformers, excited the apprehensions of even the least sensitive friendsof freedom. It is, indeed, difficult to say how far the excited temper ofthe Government, seconded by the ever ready subservience of state-lawyersand bishops, might have proceeded at this moment, had not the acquittalof Tooke and his associates, and the triumph it diffused through thecountry, given a lesson to Power such as England is alone capable ofgiving, and which will long be remembered, to the honor of that greatpolitical safeguard,—that Life-preserver in stormy times,—the Trial byJury.

At the opening of the Session, Mr. Sheridan delivered his admirableanswer to Lord Mornington, the report of which, as I have already said,was corrected for publication by himself. In this fine speech, of whichthe greater part must have been unprepared, there is a naturalearnestness of feeling and argument that is well contrasted with the ablebut artificial harangue that preceded it. In referring to the detailswhich Lord Mornington had entered into of the various atrocitiescommitted in France, he says:—

"But what was the sum of all that he had told the House? that great anddreadful enormities had been committed, at which the heart shuddered, andwhich not merely wounded every feeling of humanity, but disgusted andsickened the soul. All this was most true; but what did all this prove?What, but that eternal and unalterable truth which had always presenteditself to his mind, in whatever way he had viewed the subject, namely,that a long established despotism so far degraded and debased humannature, as to render its subjects, on the first recovery of their rights,unfit for the exercise of them. But never had he, or would he meet butwith re probation that mode of argument which went, in fact, toestablish, as an inference from this truth, that those who had been longslaves, ought therefore to remain so for over! No; the lesson ought tobe, he would again repeat, a tenfold horror of that despotic form ofgovernment, which had so profaned and changed the nature of civilizedman, and a still more jealous apprehension of any system tending towithhold the rights and liberties of our fellow-creatures. Such a form ofgovernment might be considered as twice cursed; while it existed, it wassolely responsible for the miseries and calamities of its subjects; andshould a day of retribution come, and the tyranny be destroyed, it wasequally to be charged with all the enormities which the folly or frenzyof those who overturned it should commit.

"But the madness of the French people was not confined to theirproceedings 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? Wildand unsettled as their state of mind was, necessarily, upon the eventswhich had thrown such power so suddenly into their hands, the surroundingStates had goaded them into a still more savage state of madness, fury,and desperation. We had unsettled their reason, and then reviled theirinsanity; we drove them to the extremities that produced the evils wearraigned; we baited them like wild beasts, until at length we made themso. The conspiracy of Pilnitz, and the brutal threats of the Royalabettors of that plot against the rights of nations and of men, had, intruth, to answer for all the additional misery, horrors, and iniquity,which had since disgraced and incensed humanity. Such has been yourconduct towards France, that you have created the passions which youpersecute; you mark a nation to be cut off from the world; you covenantfor their extermination; you swear to hunt them in their inmost recesses;you load them with every species of execration; and you now come forthwith whining declamations on the horror of their turning upon you withthe fury which you inspired."

Having alluded to an assertion of Condorcet, quoted by Lord Mornington,that "Revolutions are always the work of the minority," he addslivelily:—

"—If this be true, it certainly is a most ominous thing for the enemiesof Reform in England; for, if it holds true, of necessity, that theminority still prevails, in national contests, it must be a consequencethat the smaller the minority the more certain must be the success. Inwhat a dreadful situation then must the Noble Lord be and all theAlarmists!—for, never surely was a minority so small, so thin in numberas the present. Conscions, however, that M. Condorcet was mistaken in ourobject, I am glad to find that we are terrible in proportion as we arefew; I rejoice that the liberality of secession which has thinned ourranks has only served to make us more formidable. The Alarmists will hearthis with new apprehensions; they will no doubt return to us with a viewto diminish our force, and encumber us with their alliance in order toreduce us to insignificance."

We have here another instance, in addition to the many that have beengiven, of the beauties that sprung up under Sheridan's correcting hand.This last pointed sentence was originally thus: "And we shall swell ournumbers in order to come nearer in a balance of insignificance to thenumerous host of the majority."

It was at this time evident that the great Whig Seceders would soon yieldto the invitations of Mr. Pitt and the vehement persuasions of Burke, andcommit themselves still further with the Administration by accepting ofoffice. Though the final arrangements to this effect were not completedtill the summer, on account of the lingering reluctance of the Duke ofPortland and Mr. Windham, Lord Loughborough and others of the formerOpposition had already put on the official livery of the Minister. It isto be regretted that, in almost all cases of conversion to the side ofpower, the coincidence of some worldly advantage with the change shouldmake it difficult to decide upon the sincerity or disinterestedness ofthe convert. That these Noble Whigs were sincere in their alarm there isno reason to doubt; but the lesson of loyalty they have transmitted wouldhave been far more edifying, had the usual corollary of honors andemoluments not followed, and had they left at least one instance ofpolitical conversion on record, where the truth was its own sole reward,and the proselyte did not subside into the placeman. Mr. Sheridan wasnaturally indignant at these desertions, and his bitterness overflows inmany passages of the speech before us. Lord Mornington having contrastedthe privations and sacrifices demanded of the French by their Minister ofFinance 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 ourChancellor of the Exchequer making any such experiment. I can more easilyfancy another sort of speech for our prudent Minister. I can more easilyconceive him modestly comparing himself and his own measures with thecharacter and conduct of his rival, and saying,—'Do I demand of you,wealthy citizens, to lend your hoards to Government without interest? Onthe contrary, when I shall come to propose a loan, there is not a man ofyou to whom I shall not hold out at least a job in every part of thesubscription, and an usurious profit upon every pound you devote to thenecessities of your country. Do I demand of you, my fellow-placemen andbrother-pensioners, that you should sacrifice any part of your stipendsto the public exigency? On the contrary; am I not daily increasing youremoluments and your numbers in proportion as the country becomes unableto provide for you? Do I require of you, my latest and most zealousproselytes, of you who have come over to me for the special purpose ofsupporting the war—a war, on the success of which you solemnly protest,that the salvation of Britain, and of civil society itself, depend—do Irequire of you, that you should make a temporary sacrifice, in the causeof human nature, of the greater part of your private incomes? No,gentlemen, I scorn to take advantage of the eagerness of your zeal; andto prove that I think the sincerity of your attachment to me needs nosuch test, I will make your interest co-operate with your principle: Iwill quarter many of you on the public supply, instead of calling on youto contribute to it; and, while their whole thoughts are absorbed inpatriotic apprehensions for their country, I will dexterously force uponothers the favorite objects of the vanity or ambition of their lives.

* * * * *

"Good God, Sir, that he should have thought it prudent to have forcedthis contrast upon our attention; that he should triumphantly remind usof everything that shame should have withheld, and caution would haveburied in oblivion! Will those who stood forth with a parade ofdisinterested patriotism, and vaunted of the sacrifices they hadmade, and the exposed situation they had chosen, in order thebetter to oppose the friends of Brissot in England—will they thank theNoble Lord for reminding us how soon these lofty professions dwindledinto little jobbing pursuits for followers and dependents, as unfit tofill the offices procured for them, as the offices themselves were unfitto be created?—Will the train of newly titled alarmists, ofsupernumerary negotiators, of pensioned paymasters, agents andcommissaries, thank him for remarking to us how profitable their panichas been to themselves, and how expensive to their country? What acontrast, indeed, do we exhibit!—What! in such an hour as this, at amoment pregnant with the national fate, when, pressing as the exigencymay be, the hard task of squeezing the money from the pockets of animpoverished people, from the toil, the drudgery of the shivering poor,must make the most practised collector's heart ache while he tears itfrom them—can it be that people of high rank, and professing highprinciples, that they or their families should seek tothrive on the spoils of misery and fatten on the meals wrested fromindustrious poverty? Can it be that that should be the case with the verypersons, who state the unprecedented peril of the country as thesole cause of their being found in the ministerial ranks? TheConstitution is in danger, religion is in danger, the very existence ofthe nation itself is endangered; all personal and party considerationsought to vanish; the war must be supported by every possible exertion,and by every possible sacrifice; the people must not murmur at theirburdens, it is for their salvation, their all is at stake. The time iscome, when all honest and disinterested men should rally round the Throneas round a standard;—for what? ye honest and disinterested men, toreceive, for your own private emolument, a portion of those very taxeswrung from the people on the pretence of saving them from the poverty anddistress which you say the enemy would inflict, but which you take careno enemy shall be able to aggravate. Oh! shame! shame! is this a time forselfish intrigues, and the little dirty traffic for lucre and emolument?Does it suit the honor of a gentleman to ask at such a moment? Does itbecome the honesty of a Minister to grant? Is it intended to confirm thepernicious doctrine, so industriously propagated by many, that all publicmen are impostors, and that every politician has his price? Or even wherethere is no principle in the bosom, why does not prudence hint to themercenary and the vain to abstain a while at least, and wait the fittingof the times? Improvident impatience! Nay, even from those who seem tohave no direct object of office or profit, what is the language whichtheir actions speak? The Throne is in danger!—'we will support theThrone; but let us share the smiles of Royalty;'—the order of Nobilityis in danger!—'I will fight for Nobility,' says the Viscount, 'but myzeal would be much greater if I were made an Earl.' 'Rouse all theMarquis within me,' exclaims the Earl, 'and the peerage never turnedforth a more undaunted champion in its cause than I shall prove.' 'Stainmy green riband blue,' cries out the illustrious Knight, 'and thefountain of honor will have a fast and faithful servant.' What are thepeople to think of our sincerity?—What credit are they to give to ourprofessions?—Is this system to be persevered in? Is there nothing thatwhispers to that Right Honorable Gentleman that the crisis is too big,that the times are too gigantic, to be ruled by the little hackneyed andevery-day means of ordinary corruption?"

The discussions, indeed, during the whole of this Session, were marked bya degree of personal acrimony, which in the present more sensitive timeswould hardly be borne. Mr. Pitt and Mr. Sheridan came, most of all, intocollision; and the retorts of the Minister not unfrequently proved withwhat weight the haughty sarcasms of Power may descend even upon thetempered buckler of Wit.

It was in this Session, and on the question of the Treaty with the Kingof Sardinia, that Mr. Canning made his first appearance, as an orator, inthe House. He brought with him a fame, already full of promise, and hasbeen one of the brightest ornaments of the senate and the country eversince. From the political faith in which he had been educated, under thevery eyes of Mr. Sheridan, who had long been the friend of his family,and at whose house he generally passed his college vacations, the linethat he was to take in the House of Commons seemed already, according tothe usual course of events, marked out for him. Mr. Sheridan had, indeed,with an eagerness which, however premature, showed the value which he andothers set upon the alliance, taken occasion in the course of a laudatorytribute to Mr. Jenkinson, [Footnote: Now Lord Liverpool] on the successof his first effort in the House, to announce the accession which his ownparty was about to receive, in the talents of another gentleman,—thecompanion and friend of the young orator who had now distinguishedhimself. Whether this and other friendships, formed by Mr. Canning at theUniversity, had any share in alienating him from a political creed, whichhe had hitherto, perhaps, adopted rather from habit and authority thanchoice—or, whether he was startled at the idea of appearing for thefirst time in the world, as the announced pupil and friend of a personwho, both by the vehemence of his politics and the irregularities of hislife, had put himself, in some degree, under the ban of publicopinion—or whether, lastly, he saw the difficulties which even geniuslike his would experience, in rising to the full growth of its ambition,under the shadowing branches of the Whig aristocracy, and thatsuperseding influence of birth and connections, which had contributed tokeep even such men as Burke and Sheridan out of the Cabinet—whichof these motives it was that now decided the choice of the youngpolitical Hercules, between the two paths that equally wooed hisfootsteps, none, perhaps, but himself can fully determine. His decision,we know, was in favor of the Minister and Toryism; and, after a friendlyand candid explanation to Sheridan of the reasons and feelings that urgedhim to this step, he entered into terms with Mr. Pitt, and was by himimmediately 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 heever 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 powerof the State, had, in addition to the original narrowness of itsprinciples, 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 theCrown, should have long since invalided it in the service of afree and enlightened people. Some infusion of the spirit of the timesinto this body had become necessary, even for its own preservation,—inthe same manner as the inhalement of youthful breath has beenrecommended, by some physicians, to the infirm and superannuated. Thisrenovating inspiration the genius of Mr. Canning has supplied. His firstpolitical lessons were derived from sources too sacred to his youngadmiration to be forgotten. He has carried the spirit of these lessonswith him into the councils which he joined, and by the vigor of thegraft, which already, indeed, shows itself in the fruits, bids fair tochange altogether the nature of Toryism.

Among the eminent persons summoned as witnesses on the Trial of HorneTooke, which took place in November of this year, was Mr. Sheridan; and,as his evidence contains some curious particulars, both with regard tohimself and the state of political feeling in the year 1790, I shall heretranscribe a part of it:—

"He, (Mr. Sheridan,) said he recollects a meeting to celebrate theestablishment of liberty in France in the year 1790. Upon that occasionhe moved a Resolution drawn up the day before by the Whig club. Mr. HorneTooke, he says, made no objection to his motion, but proposed anamendment. Mr. Tooke stated that an unqualified approbation of the FrenchRevolution, in the terms moved, might produce an ill effect out of doors,a disposition to a revolution in this country, or, at least, bemisrepresented to have that object; he adverted to the circ*mstance oftheir having all of them national co*ckades in their hats; he proposed toadd some qualifying expression to the approbation of the FrenchRevolution, a declaration of attachment to the principles of our ownConstitution; he said Mr. Tooke spoke in a figurative manner of theformer Government of France; he described it as a vessel so foul anddecayed, that no repair could save it from destruction, that incontrasting our state with that, he said, thank God, the main timbers ofour Constitution are sound; he had before observed, however, that somereforms might be necessary; he said that sentiment was received withgreat disapprobation, and with very rude interruption, insomuch that LordStanhope, who was in the chair, interfered; he said it had happened tohim, in many public meetings, to differ with and oppose the prisoner, andthat he has frequently seen him received with very considerable marks ofdisapprobation, but he never saw them affect him much; he said that hehimself objected to Mr. Tooke's amendment; he thinks he withdrew hisamendment, and moved it as a separate motion; he said it was then carriedas unanimously as his own motion had been; that original motion andseparate motion are in these words:—'That this meeting does mostcordially rejoice in the establishment and confirmation of liberty inFrance; and it beholds with peculiar satisfaction the sentiments of amityand good will which appear to pervade the people of that country towardsthis kingdom, especially at a time when it is the manifest interest ofboth states that nothing should interrupt the harmony which at presentsubsists between them, and which is so essentially necessary to thefreedom and happiness, not only of the French nation, but of all mankind.'

"Mr. Tooke wished to add to his motion some qualifying clause, to guardagainst misunderstanding and misrepresentation:—that there was a widedifference between England and France; that in France the vessel was sofoul and decayed, that no repair could save it from destruction, whereas,in England, we had a noble and stately vessel, sailing proudly on thebosom 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'smotion was,—'That we feel equal satisfaction that the subjects ofEngland, by the virtuous exertions of their ancestors, have not soarduous a task to perform as the French have had, but have only tomaintain and improve the Constitution which their ancestors havetransmitted to them.'—This was carried unanimously."

The trial of Warren Hastings still "dragged its slow length along," andin the May of this year Mr. Sheridan was called upon for his Reply on theBegum Charge. It was usual, on these occasions, for the Manager who spoketo be assisted by one of his brother Managers, whose task it was to carrythe bag that contained his papers, and to read out whatever Minutes mightbe referred to in the course of the argument. Mr. Michael Angelo Taylorwas the person who undertook this office for Sheridan; but, on themorning 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 whenthe papers were called for, his friend must only put the best countenancehe could upon it. As for himself "he would abuse Ned Law—ridiculePlumer's long orations—make the Court laugh—please the women, and, inshort, with Taylor's aid would get triumphantly through his task." Hisopening of the case was listened to with the profoundest attention; butwhen he came to contrast the evidence of the Commons with that adduced byHastings, it was not long before the Chancellor interrupted him, with arequest that the printed Minutes to which he referred should be read.Sheridan answered that his friend Mr. Taylor would read them; and Mr.Taylor affected to send for the bag, while the orator begged leave, inthe meantime, to proceed. Again, however, his statements rendered areference to the Minutes necessary, and again he was interrupted by theChancellor, while an outcry after Mr. Sheridan's bag was raised in alldirections. At first the blame was laid on the solicitor's clerk—then amessenger was dispatched to Mr. Sheridan's house. In the meantime, theorator was proceeding brilliantly and successfully in his argument; and,on some further interruption and expostulation from the Chancellor,raised his voice and said, in a dignified tone, "On the part of theCommons, and as a Manager of this Impeachment, I shall conduct my case asI think proper. I mean to be correct, and Your Lordships, having theprinted Minutes before you, will afterwards see whether I am right orwrong."

During the bustle produced by the inquiries after the bag, Mr. Fox,alarmed at the inconvenience which, he feared, the want of it mightoccasion Sheridan, ran up from the Managers' room, and demanded eagerlythe cause of this mistake from Mr. Taylor; who, hiding his mouth with hishand, whispered him, (in a tone of which they alone, who have heard thisgentleman relate the anecdote, can feel the full humor,) "The man has nobag!"

The whole of this characteristic contrivance was evidently intended bySheridan to raise that sort of surprise at the readiness of hisresources, which it was the favorite triumph of his vanity to create. Ihave it on the authority of Mr. William Smythe, that, previously to thedelivery of this speech, he passed two or three days alone at Wanstead,so occupied from morning till night in writing and reading of papers, asto complain in the evenings that he "had motes before his eyes." Thismixture of real labor with apparent carelessness was, indeed, one of themost curious features of his life and character.

Together with the political contests of this stormy year, he had also onhis 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 hisfriend General Fitzpatrick. He found time, however, to assist in therapid manufacture of a little piece called "The Glorious First of June,"which was acted immediately after Lord Howe's victory, and of which Ihave found some sketches [Footnote: One of these is as follows:—

"SCENE I.—Miss Leake—Miss Decamp—Walsh.

"Short dialogue—Nancy persuading Susan to go to the Fair, where there isan entertainment to be given by the Lord of the Manor—Susan melancholybecause 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 andsings—Trio.

"SCENE II.—The Fair

"Puppet show—dancing bear—bells—hurdy-gurdy—recruiting party—songand chorus.

"Ballet—D'Egville.

"Susan says she has no pleasure, and will go and take a solitary walk.

"SCENE III.—Dark Wood.

"Susan—gipsy—tells her fortune—recitative and ditty.

"SCENE IV.

"SEA-FIGHT—hell and the devil!

"Henry and Susan meet—Chorus introducing burden,

"Rule Britannia."

Among other occasional trifles of this kind, to which Sheridancondescended for the advantage of the theatre, was the pantomime ofRobinson Crusoe, brought out, I believe, in 1781, of which he isunderstood to have been the author. There was a practical joke in thispantomime, (where, in pulling off a man's boot, the leg was pulled offwith it,) which the famous Delpini laid claim to as his own, and publiclycomplained of Sheridan's having stolen it from him. The punsters of theday said it was claimed as literary property—being "in usumDelpini."

Another of these inglorious tasks of the author of The School for
Scandal, was the furnishing 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 infusion 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 andfalls on the ground a long time, not knowing him—says he would only havetaken a little gold to Keep off misery and save his son, &c.

"Afterwards, when he loads his asses, his son reminds him to bemoderate—but it was a promise made to thieves—'it gets nearer theowner, if taken from the stealer'—the son disputes this morality—'theystole it, ergo, they have no right to it; and we steal it from thestealer, ergo, our title is twice as bad as theirs.'"] inSheridan's hand-writing,—though the dialogue was, no doubt, supplied (asMr. Boaden says,) "by Cobb, or some other such pedissequus of theDramatic Muse. This piece was written, rehearsed, and acted within threedays. The first operation of Mr. Sheridan towards it was to order themechanist of the theatre to get ready two fleets. It was in vain thatobjections were started to the possibility of equipping these pasteboardarmaments in so short an interval—Lord Chatham's famous order to LordAnson was not more peremptory. [Footnote: For the expedition to the coastof France, after the Convention of Closter seven. When he ordered thefleet to be equipped, and appointed the time and place of its rendezvous,Lord Anson said it would be impossible to have it prepared so soon. "Itmay," said Mr. Pitt, "be done, and if the ships are not ready at the timespecified, I shall signify Your Lordship's neglect to the King, andimpeach you in the House of Commons." This intimation produced thedesired effect—the ships were ready. See Anecdotes of Lord Chatham,vol. i] The two fleets were accordingly ready at the time, and the Dukeof Clarence attended the rehearsal of their evolutions. This mixture ofthe cares of the Statesman and the Manager is one of those whimsicalpeculiarities that made Sheridan's own life so dramatic, and formed acompound altogether too singular ever to occur again.

In the spring of the following year, (1795,) we find Mr. Sheridan payingthat sort of tribute to the happiness of a first marriage which isimplied by the step of entering into a second. The lady to whom he nowunited himself was Miss Esther Jane Ogle, daughter of the Dean ofWinchester, and grand-daughter, by the mother's side, of the formerBishop of Winchester. We have here another proof of the ready mine ofwealth which the theatre opened,—as in gratitude it ought,—to him whohad endowed, it with such imperishable treasures. The fortune of the ladybeing five thousand pounds, he added to it fifteen thousand more, whichhe contrived to raise by the sale of Drury-Lane shares; and the whole ofthe sum was subsequently laid out in the purchase from Sir W. Geary ofthe estate of Polesden, in Surrey, near Leatherhead. The Trustees of thissettlement were Mr. Grey, (now Lord Grey,) and Mr. Whitbread.

To a man at the time of life which Sheridan had now attained—four yearsbeyond that period, at which Petrarch thought it decorous to leave offwriting love-verses [Footnote: See his Epistle, "ad Posteritatem," where,after lamenting the many years which he had devoted to love, he adds:"Mox vero ad quadragesimum annum appropinquans, dum adhuc etcaloris satis esset," &c.]—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 himat this period, that they had seldom seen his spirits in a state of morebuoyant vivacity. He passed much of his time at the house of hisfather-in-law near Southampton;—and in sailing about with his livelybride on the Southampton river, (in a small cutter called the Phaedria,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 myfriend Mr. Bowles, who was a frequent companion of his parties,[Footnote: Among other distinguished persons present at these excursionswere Mr. Joseph Richardson, Dr. Howley, now Bishop of London, and Mrs.Wilmot, now Lady Dacre, a lady, whose various talents,—not the lessdelightful for being so feminine,—like the group of the Graces, reflectbeauty on each other.] wrote the following verses, which were muchadmired, as they well deserved to be, by Sheridan, for the sweetness oftheir thoughts, and the perfect music of their rhythm:—

"Smooth went our boat upon the summer seas,
Leaving, (for so it seem'd.) the world behind,
Its cares, its sounds, its shadows: we 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 [1] azure hue
Beyond the misty castle [2] 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!"

[Footnote 1: Isle of Wight]
[Footnote 2: Kelshot Castle]

The events of this year but added fresh impetus to that reaction uponeach other of the Government and the People, which such a system ofmisrule is always sure to produce. Among the worst effects, as I havealready remarked, of the rigorous policy adopted by the Minister, was theextremity to which it drove the principles and language of Opposition,and that sanction which the vehement rebound against oppression of suchinfluencing spirits as Fox and Sheridan seemed to hold out to theobscurer and more practical assertors of freedom. This was at no timemore remarkable than in the present Session, during the discussion ofthose arbitrary measures, the Treason and Sedition Bills, when sparkswere struck out, in the collision of the two principles, which thecombustible state of public feeling at the moment rendered not a littleperilous. On the motion that the House should resolve itself into aCommittee upon the Treason Bill, Mr. Fox said, that "if Ministers weredetermined, by means of the corrupt influence they already possessed inthe two Houses of Parliament, to pass these Bills, in violent oppositionto the declared sense of the great majority of the nation, and theyshould be put in force with all their rigorous provisions,—if hisopinion were asked by the people as to their obedience, he should tellthem, that it was no longer a question of moral obligation and duty, butof prudence." Mr. Sheridan followed in the bold footsteps of his friend,and said, that "if a degraded and oppressed majority of the peopleapplied to him, he would advise them to acquiesce in those bills only aslong as resistance was imprudent." This language was, of course, visitedwith the heavy reprobation of the Ministry;—but their own partisans hadalready gone as great lengths on the side of absolute power, and it isthe nature of such extremes to generate each other. Bishop Horsley hadpreached the doctrine of passive obedience in the House of Lords,asserting that "man's abuse of his delegated authority is to be bornewith resignation, like any other of God's judgments; and that theopposition of the individual to the sovereign power is an opposition toGod's providential arrangements." The promotion of the Right ReverendPrelate that followed, was not likely to abate his zeal in the cause ofpower; and, accordingly, we find him in the present session declaring, inhis place in the House of Lords, that "the people have nothing to do withthe laws but to obey them."

The government, too, had lately given countenance to writers, the absurdslavishness of whose doctrines would have sunk below contempt, but forsuch patronage. Among the ablest of them was Arthur Young,—one of thoserenegades from the cause of freedom, who, like the incendiary that setfire to the Temple with the flame he had stolen from its altar, turn thefame and the energies which they have acquired in defence ofliberty against her. This gentleman, to whom his situation asSecretary to the Board of Agriculture afforded facilities for thecirculation of his political heresies, did not scruple, in one of hispamphlets, roundly to assert, that unequal representation, rottenboroughs, long parliaments, extravagant courts, selfish Ministers, andcorrupt majorities, are not only intimately interwoven with the practicalfreedom of England, but, in a great degree, the causes of it.

But the most active and notorious of these patronized advocates of theCourt was Mr. John Reeves,—a person who, in his capacity of President ofthe Association against Republicans and Levellers, had acted as a sort ofSub-minister of Alarm to Mr. Burke. In a pamphlet, entitled "Thoughts onthe English Government," which Mr. Sheridan brought under the notice ofthe House, as a libel on the Constitution, this pupil of the school ofFilmer advanced the startling doctrine that the Lords and Commons ofEngland derive their existence and authority from the King, and that theKingly government could go on, in all its functions, without them. Thispitiful paradox found an apologist in Mr. Windham, whose chivalry in thenew cause he had espoused left Mr. Pitt himself at a wondering distancebehind. His speeches in defence of Reeves, (which are among the proofsthat remain of that want of equipoise observable in his fine, rather thansolid, understanding,) have been with a judicious charity towards hismemory, omitted in the authentic collection by Mr. Amyot.

When such libels against the Constitution were not only promulgated, butacted upon, on one side, it was to be expected, and hardly, perhaps, tobe regretted, that the repercussion should be heard loudly and warninglyfrom the other. Mr. Fox, by a subsequent explanation, softened down allthat was most menacing in his language; and, though the word"Resistance," at full length, should, like the hand-writing on the wall,be reserved for the last intoxication of the Belshazzars of this world, aletter or two of it may, now and then, glare out upon their eyes, withoutproducing any thing worse than a salutary alarm amid their revels. At allevents, the high and constitutional grounds on which Mr. Fox defended theexpressions he had hazarded, may well reconcile us to any risk incurredby their utterance. The tribute to the house of Russell, in the grand andsimple passage beginning, "Dear to this country are the descendants ofthe illustrious Russell," is as applicable to that Noble family now as itwas then; and will continue to be so, I trust, as long as a singlevestige of a race, so pledged to the cause of liberty, remains.

In one of Mr. Sheridan's speeches on the subject of Reeves's libel, thereare some remarks on the character of the people of England, not onlycandid and just, but, as applied to them at that trying crisis,interesting:—

"Never was there," he said, "any country in which there was so muchabsence of public principle, and at the same time so many instances ofprivate worth. Never was there so much charity and humanity towards thepoor and the distressed; any act of cruelty or oppression never failed toexcite a sentiment of general indignation against its authors. It was acirc*mstance peculiarly strange, that though luxury had arrived to such apitch, it had so little effect in depraving the hearts and destroying themorals of people in private life; and almost every day produced somefresh example of generous feelings and noble exertions of benevolence.Yet amidst these phenomena of private virtue, it was to be remarked, thatthere was an almost total want of public spirit, and a most deplorablecontempt of public principle.

* * * * *

"When Great Britain fell, the case would not be with her as with Rome informer 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 acontinuance of prosperity, and incapable to enjoy the blessings ofliberty; their minds were bent to the state in which a reverse of fortuneplaced them. But when Great Britain falls, she will fall with a peoplefull of private worth and virtue; she will be ruined by the profligacy ofthe governors, and the security of her inhabitants,—the consequence ofthose pernicious doctrines which have taught her to place a falseconfidence in her strength and freedom, and not to look with distrust andapprehension to the misconduct and corruption of those to whom she hastrusted the management of her resources."

To this might have been added, that when Great Britain falls, it will notbe from either ignorance of her rights, or insensibility to their value,but from that want of energy to assert them which a high state ofcivilization produces. The love of ease that luxury brings along withit,—the selfish and compromising spirit, in which the members of apolished society countenance each other, and which reverses the principleof patriotism, by sacrificing public interests to private ones,—thesubstitution of intellectual for moral excitement, and the repression ofenthusiasm by fastidiousness and ridicule,—these are among the causesthat undermine a people,—that corrupt in the very act of enlighteningthem; till they become, what a French writer calls "esprits exigeanset caracteres complaisans," and the period in which their rights arebest understood may be that in which they most easily surrender them. Itis, indeed, with the advanced age of free States, as with that ofindividuals,—they improve in the theory of their existence as they growunfit for the practice of it; till, at last, deceiving themselves withthe semblance of rights gone by, and refining upon the forms of theirinstitutions after they have lost the substance, they smoothly sink intoslavery, with the lessons of liberty on their lips.

Besides the Treason and Sedition Bills, the Suspension of the HabeasCorpus Act was another of the momentous questions which, in this as wellas 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 toldupon public opinion so as to turn even defeats to account.

The marriage of the Prince of Wales to the Princess Caroline of Brunswickhaving taken place in the spring of this year, it was proposed by HisMajesty to Parliament, not only to provide an establishment for theirRoyal Highnesses, but to decide on the best manner of liquidating thedebts of the Prince, which were calculated at 630,000_l_. On thesecession of the leading Whigs, in 1792, His Royal Highness had alsoseparated himself from Mr. Fox, and held no further intercourse eitherwith him or any of his party,—except, occasionally, Mr. Sheridan,—tillso late, I believe, as the year 1798. The effects of this estrangementare sufficiently observable in the tone of the Opposition throughout thedebates on the Message of the King. Mr. Grey said, that he would notoppose the granting of an establishment to the Prince equal to that ofhis ancestors; but neither would he consent to the payment of his debtsby Parliament. A refusal, he added, to liberate His Royal Highness fromhis 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 ofhis debts, after the promise made in 1787?"—and Mr. Sheridan, while heagreed with his friends that the application should not have been made toParliament, still gave it as his "positive opinion that the debts oughtto be paid immediately, for the dignity of the country and the situationof the Prince, who ought not to be seen rolling about the streets, in hisstate-coach, as an insolvent prodigal." With respect to the promise givenin 1787, and now violated, that the Prince would not again apply toParliament for the payment of his debts, Mr. Sheridan, with acommunicativeness that seemed hardly prudent, put the House in possessionof some details of the transaction, which, as giving an insight intoRoyal character, are worthy of being extracted.

"In 1787, a pledge was given to the House that no more debts should becontracted. By that pledge the Prince was bound as much as if he hadgiven it knowingly and voluntarily. To attempt any explanation of it nowwould be unworthy of his honor,—as if he had suffered it to be wrungfrom him, with a view of afterwards pleading that it was against hisbetter judgment, in order to get rid of it. He then advised the Princenot to make any such promise, because it was not to be expected that hecould himself enforce the details of a system of economy; and, althoughhe had men of honor and abilities about him, he was totally unprovidedwith men of business, adequate to such a task. The Prince said he couldnot give such a pledge, and agree at the same time to take back hisestablishment. He (Mr. Sheridan) drew up a plan of retrenchment, whichwas approved of by the Prince, and afterwards by His Majesty; and thePrince told him that the promise was not to be insisted upon. In theKing's Message, however, the promise was inserted,—by whose advice heknew not. He heard it read with surprise, and, on being asked next day bythe Prince to contradict it in his place, he inquired whether the Princehad seen the Message before it was brought down. Being told that it hadbeen read to him, but that he did not understand it as containing apromise, he declined contradicting it, and told the Prince that he mustabide by it in whatever way it might have been obtained. By the planthen settled, Ministers had a check upon the Prince's expenditure, whichthey never exerted, nor enforced adherence to the plan.

* * * * *

"While Ministers never interfered to check expenses, of which they couldnot pretend ignorance, the Prince had recourse to means for relievinghimself from his embarrassments, which ultimately tended to increasethem. It was attempted to raise a loan for him in foreign countries, ameasure which he thought unconstitutional, and put a stop to; and, aftera consultation with Lord Loughborough, all the bonds were burnt, althoughwith a considerable loss to the Prince. After that, another plan ofretrenchment was proposed, upon which he had frequent consultations withLord Thurlow, who gave the Prince fair, open, and manly advice. ThatNoble Lord told the Prince, that, after the promise he had made, he mustnot think of applying to Parliament;—that he must avoid being of anyparty in politics, but, above all, exposing himself to the suspicion ofbeing influenced in political opinion by his embarrassments;—that theonly course he could pursue with honor, was to retire from public lifefor a time, and appropriate the greater part of his income to theliquidation 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 periodhis Royal Highness began to receive unsolicited advice from anotherquarter. He was told by Lord Loughborough, both in words and in writing,that the plan savored too much of the advice given to M. Egalité, and hecould guess from what quarter it came. For his own part, he was then ofopinion, that to have avoided meddling in the great political questionswhich were then coming to be discussed, and to have put his affairs in atrain of adjustment, would have better become his high station, andtended more to secure public respect to it, than the pageantry ofstate-liveries."

The few occasions on which the name of Mr. Sheridan was again connectedwith literature, after the final investment of his genius in politicalspeculations, were such as his fame might have easily dispensedwith;—and one of them, the forgery of the Shakspeare papers, occurred inthe course of the present year. Whether it was that he looked over thesemanuscripts with the eye more of a manager than of a critic, andconsidered rather to what account the belief in their authenticity mightbe turned, than how far it was founded upon internal evidence;—orwhether, as Mr. Ireland asserts, the standard at which he rated thegenius of Shakspeare was not so high as to inspire him with a verywatchful fastidiousness of judgment; certain it is that he was, in somedegree, the dupe of this remarkable imposture, which, as a lesson to theself-confidence of criticism, and an exposure of the fallibility oftaste, ought never to be forgotten in literary history.

The immediate payment of 300_l_. and a moiety of the profits for thefirst sixty nights, were the terms upon which Mr. Sheridan purchased theplay of Vortigern from the Irelands. The latter part of the conditionswas voided the first night; and, though it is more than probable that agenuine tragedy of Shakspeare, if presented under similar circ*mstances,would have shared the same fate, the public enjoyed the credit ofdetecting and condemning a counterfeit, which had passed current throughsome of the most learned and tasteful hands of the day. It is butjustice, however, to Mr. Sheridan to add, that, according to the accountof Ireland himself, he was not altogether without misgivings during hisperusal of the manuscripts, and that his name does not appear among thesignatures to that attestation of their authenticity which his friend Dr.Parr drew up, and was himself the first to sign. The curious statement ofMr. Ireland, with respect to Sheridan's want of enthusiasm forShakspeare, receives some confirmation from the testimony of Mr. Boaden,the biographer of Kemble, who tells us that "Kemble frequently expressedto him his wonder that Sheridan should trouble himself so littleabout Shakspeare." This peculiarity of taste,—if it really existed tothe degree that these two authorities would lead us to infer,—affords aremarkable coincidence with the opinions of another illustrious genius,lately lost to the world, whose admiration of the great Demiurge of theDrama was leavened with the same sort of heresy.

In the January of this year, Mr. William Stone—the brother of thegentleman whose letter from Paris has been given in a precedingChapter—was tried upon a charge of High Treason, and Mr. Sheridan wasamong the witnesses summoned for the prosecution. He had already in theyear 1794, in consequence of a reference from Mr. Stone himself, beenexamined before the Privy Council, relative to a conversation which hehad held with that gentleman, and, on the day after his examination, had,at the request of Mr. Dundas, transmited to that Minister in writing theparticulars of his testimony before the Council. There is among hispapers a rough draft of this Statement, in comparing which with hisevidence upon the trial in the present year, I find rather a curiousproof of the faithlessness of even the best memories. The object of theconversation which he had held with Mr. Stone in 1794—and whichconstituted the whole of their intercourse with each other—was aproposal on the part of the latter, submitted also to Lord Lauderdale andothers, to exert his influence in France, through those channels whichhis brother's residence there opened to him, for the purpose of avertingthe threatened invasion of England, by representing to the French rulersthe utter hopelessness of such an attempt. Mr. Sheridan, on the trial,after an ineffectual request to be allowed to refer to his writtenStatement, gave the following as part of his recollections of theconversation:—

"Mr. Stone stated that, in order to effect this purpose, he hadendeavored to collect the opinions of several gentlemen, politicalcharacters in this country, whose opinions he thought would be ofauthority sufficient to advance his object; that for this purpose he hadhad interviews with different gentlemen; he named Mr. Smith and, I think,one or two more, whose names I do not now recollect. He named somegentlemen connected with Administration—if the Counsel will remind me ofthe name—"

Here Mr. Law, the examining Counsel, remarked, that "upon thecross-examination, if the gentlemen knew the circ*mstance, they wouldmention it." The cross-examination of Sheridan by Sergeant Adair was asfollows:—

"You stated in the course of your examination that Mr. Stone said therewas a gentleman connected with Government, to whom he had made a similarcommunication, should you recollect the name of that person if you werereminded of it?—I certainly should.—Was it General Murray?—GeneralMurray certainly."

Notwithstanding this, however, it appears from the written Statement inmy possession, drawn up soon after the conversation in question, thatthis "gentleman connected with Government," so difficult to beremembered, was no other than the Prime Minister, Mr. Pitt himself. Solittle is the memory to be relied upon in evidence, particularly whenabsolved from responsibility by the commission of its deposit to writing.The conduct of Mr. Sheridan throughout this transaction appears to havebeen sensible and cautious. That he was satisfied with it himself may becollected from the conclusion of his letter to Mr. Dundas:—"Under thecirc*mstances in which the application, (from Mr. Dundas,) has been madeto me, I have thought it equally a matter of respect to that applicationand of respect to myself, as well as of justice to the person undersuspicion, to give this relation more in detail than at first perhapsmight appear necessary. My own conduct in the matter not being inquestion, I can only say that were a similar case to occur, I think Ishould act in every circ*mstance precisely in the manner I did on thisoccasion."

The parliamentary exertions of Mr. Sheridan this year, though various andactive, were chiefly upon subordinate questions; and, except in theinstance of Mr. Fox's Motion of Censure upon Ministers for advancingmoney to the Emperor without the consent of Parliament, were notdistinguished by any signal or sustained displays of eloquence. The grandquestions, indeed, connected with the liberty of the subject, had been sohotly contested, that but few new grounds were left on which to renew theconflict. Events, however,—the only teachers of the great mass ofmankind,—were beginning to effect what eloquence had in vain attempted.The people of England, though generally eager for war, are seldom long indiscovering that "the cup but sparkles near the brim;" and in theoccurrences of the following year they were made to taste the fullbitterness of the draught. An alarm for the solvency of the Bank, animpending invasion, a mutiny in the fleet, and an organized rebellion inIreland,—such were the fruits of four years' warfare, and they wereenough to startle even the most sanguine and precipitate into reflection.

The conduct of Mr. Sheridan on the breaking out of the Mutiny at the Noreis too well known and appreciated to require any illustration here. It isplaced to his credit on the page of history, and was one of the happiestimpulses of good feeling and good sense combined, that ever public manacted upon in a situation demanding so much of both. The patrioticpromptitude of his interference was even more striking than it appears inthe record of his parliamentary labors; for, as I have heard at but oneremove from his own authority, while the Ministry were yet hesitating asto the steps they should take, he went to Mr. Dundas and said.—"Myadvice is that you cut the buoys on the river—send Sir Charles Grey downto the coast, and set a price on Parker's head. If the Administrationtake this advice instantly, they ill save the country—if not, they willlose it; and, on their refusal, I will impeach them in the House ofCommons this very evening."

Without dwelling on the contrast which is so often drawn—less with aview to elevate Sheridan than to depreciate his party—between theconduct of himself and his friends at this fearful crisis, it isimpossible not to concede that, on the scale of public spirit, he rose asfar superior to them as the great claims of the general safety transcendall personal considerations and all party ties. It was, indeed, a raretriumph of temper and sagacity. With less temper, he would have seen inthis awful peril but an occasion of triumph over the Minister whom he hadso long been struggling to overturn—and, with less sagacity, he wouldhave thrown away the golden opportunity of establishing himself for everin the affections and the memories of Englishmen, as one whose heart wasin the common-weal, whatever might be his opinions, and who, in themoment of peril, could sink the partisan in the patriot.

As soon as he had performed this exemplary duty, he joined Mr. Fox andthe rest of his friends who had seceded from Parliament about a weekbefore, on the very day after the rejection of Mr. Grey's motion for areform. This step, which was intended to create a strong sensation, byhoisting, as it were, the signal of despair to the country, was followedby no such striking effects, and left little behind but a question as toits prudence and patriotism. The public saw, however, with pleasure, thatthere were still a few champions of the constitution, who did not "leaveher fair side all unguarded" in this extremity. Mr. Tierney, amongothers, remained at his post, encountering Mr. Pitt on financialquestions with a vigor and address to which the latter had been hithertounaccustomed, and perfecting by practice that shrewd power of analysis,which has made him so formidable a sifter of ministerial sophistries eversince. Sir Francis Burdett, too, was just then entering into his noblecareer of patriotism; and, like the youthful servant of the temple inEuripides, was aiming his first shafts at those unclean birds, thatsettle within the sanctuary of the Constitution and sully its treasures:—

[Greek:
"ptaenon t'agalas
A blaptusae
Semn' anathaemata"]

By a letter from the Earl of Moira to Col. M'Mahon in the summer of thisyear it appears, that in consequence of the calamitous state of thecountry, a plan had been in agitation among some members of the House ofCommons, who had hitherto supported the measures of the Minister, to forman entirely new Administration, of which the Noble Earl was to be thehead, and from which both Mr. Pitt and Mr. Fox, as equally obnoxious tothe public, were to be excluded. The only materials that appear to havebeen forthcoming for this new Cabinet were Lord Moira himself, LordThurlow, and Sir William Pulteney—the last of whom it was intended tomake Chancellor of the Exchequer. Such a tottering balance of parties,however, could not have been long maintained; and its relapse, after ashort interval, into Toryism, would but have added to the triumph of Mr.Pitt, and increased his power. Accordingly Lord Moira, who saw from thebeginning the delicacy and difficulty of the task, wisely abandoned it.The share that Mr. Sheridan had in this transaction is too honorable tohim not to be recorded, and the particulars cannot be better given thanin 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 aconversation with that gentleman at the House of Lords. I remonstratedstrongly with him against a principle which I heard Mr. Fox's friendsintended to lay down, namely, that they would support a newAdministration, but that not any of them would take part in it. Isolemnly declare, upon my honor, that I could not shake Mr. Sheridan'sconviction of the propriety of that determination. He said that he andMr. Fox's other friends, as well as Mr. Fox himself, would give the mostenergetic support to such an Administration as was in contemplation; butthat their acceptance of office would appear an acquiescence under theinjustice of the interdict supposed to be fixed upon Mr. Fox. I did notand never can admit the fairness of that argument. But I gained nothingupon Mr. Sheridan, to whose uprightness in that respect I can thereforebear the most decisive testimony. Indeed I am ashamed of offeringtestimony, where suspicion ought not to have been conceived."

CHAPTER VIII.

PLAY OF "THE STRANGER"—SPEECHES IN PARLIAMENT.—PIZARRO.—MINISTRY OFMR. ADDINGTON.—FRENCH INSTITUTE.—NEGOTIATION WITH MR. KEMBLE.

The theatrical season of 1798 introduced to the public the German dramaof "The Stranger," translated by Mr. Thompson, and (as we are told bythis gentleman in his preface) altered and improved by Sheridan. There isreason, however, to believe that the contributions of the latter to thedialogue were much more considerable than he was perhaps willing to letthe translator acknowledge. My friend Mr. Rogers has heard him, on twodifferent occasions, declare that he had written every word of theStranger from beginning to end; and, as his vanity could not be muchinterested in such a claim, it is possible that there was at least somevirtual foundation for it.

The song introduced in this play, "I have a silent sorrow here," wasavowedly written by Sheridan, as the music of it was by the duch*ess ofDevonshire—two such names, so brilliant in their respective spheres, asthe Muses of Song and Verse have seldom had the luck to bring together.The originality of these lines has been disputed; and that expedient ofborrowing which their author ought to have been independent of inevery way, is supposed to have been resorted to by his indolence on thisoccasion. Some verses by Tickell are mentioned as having supplied one ofthe best stanzas; but I am inclined to think, from the followingcirc*mstances, that this theft of Sheridan was of that venial anddomestic kind—from himself. A writer, who brings forward the accusationin the Gentleman's Magazine, (vol. lxxi. p. 904,) thus states hisgrounds:—

"In a song which I purchased at Bland's music-shop in Holborn in the year1794, intitled, 'Think not, my love' and professing to be set to music byThomas Wright. (I conjecture, Organist of Newcastle-upon-Tyne, andcomposer of the pretty Opera called Rusticity.) are the following words:—

"The song to which the writer alludes, "Think not, my love," was given tome, as a genuine production of Mr. Sheridan, by a gentleman nearlyconnected with his family; and I have little doubt of its being one ofthose early love-strains which, in his tempo de' dolci sospiri, headdressed to Miss Linley. As, therefore, it was but "a feather of hisown" that the eagle made free with, he may be forgiven. The following isthe 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!'

"Now, without insisting that the opening thought in Mr. Sheridan's famoussong has been borrowed from that of 'Think not, my love,' the secondverse is manifestly such a theft of the lines I have quoted as entirelyoverturns Mr. Sheridan's claim to originality in the matter, unless'Think not, my love,' has been written by him, and he can be proved tohave only stolen from himself."

"Think not, my love, when 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 treasured grief, this lov'd despair,
My lot for ever be;
But, dearest, may the pangs I bear
Be never known to thee!"

Among the political events of this year, the rebellion of Ireland holds amemorable and fearful preeminence. The only redeeming stipulation whichthe Duke of Portland and his brother Alarmists had annexed to theirill-judged Coalition with Mr. Pitt was, that a system of conciliation andjustice should, at last, be adopted towards Ireland. Had they but carriedthus much wisdom into the ministerial ranks with them, their defectionmight have been pardoned for the good it achieved, and, in one respect atleast, would have resembled the policy of those Missionaries, who join inthe ceremonies of the Heathen for the purpose of winning him over to thetruth. On the contrary, however, the usual consequence of such coalitionswith Power ensued,—the good was absorbed in the evil principle, and, bythe false hope which it created, but increased the mischief. LordFitzwilliam was not only deceived himself, but, still worse to a nobleand benevolent nature like his, was made the instrument of deception andmockery to millions. His recall, in 1795, assisted by the measures of hissuccessor, drove Ireland into the rebellion which raged during thepresent year, and of which the causes have been so little removed fromthat hour to this, that if the people have become too wise to look backto it, as an example, it is assuredly not because their rulers have muchprofited by it as a lesson.

I am aware that, on the subject of Ireland and her wrongs, I can illtrust myself with the task of expressing what I feel, or preserve thatmoderate, historical tone, which it has been my wish to maintain throughthe political opinions of this work. On every other point, my homage tothe high character of England, and of her institutions, is prompt andcordial;—on this topic alone, my feelings towards her have been taughtto wear "the badge of bitterness." As a citizen of the world, I wouldpoint to England as its brightest ornament,—but, as a disfranchisedIrishman, I blush to belong to her. Instead, therefore, of hazarding anyfarther reflections of my own on the causes and character of theRebellion of 1798, I shall content myself with giving an extract from aSpeech which Mr. Sheridan delivered on the subject, in the June of thatyear:—

"What! when conciliation was held out to the people of Ireland, was thereany discontent? When the government of Ireland was agreeable to thepeople, was there any discontent? After the prospect of that conciliationwas taken away,—after Lord Fitzwilliam was recalled,—after the hopeswhich had been raised were blasted,—when the spirit of the people wasbeaten down, insulted, despised, I will ask any gentleman to point out asingle act of conciliation which has emanated from the Government ofIreland? On the contrary; has not that country exhibited one continualscene of the most grievous oppression, of the most vexatious proceedings;arbitrary punishments inflicted; torture declared necessary by thehighest authority in the sister-kingdom next to that of the legislature?And do gentlemen say that the indignant spirit which is roused by suchexercise of government is unprovoked? Is this conciliation? Is thislenity? Has everything been done to avert the evils of rebellion? It isthe fashion to say, and the Address holds the same language, that therebellion which now rages in the sister-kingdom has been owing to themachinations of 'wicked men.' Agreeing to the amendment proposed, it wasmy first intention to move that these words should be omitted. But, Sir,the fact they assert is true. It is, indeed, to the measures of wickedmen that the deplorable state of Ireland is to be imputed. It is to thosewicked Ministers who have broken the promises they held out, who betrayedthe party they seduced into their views, to be the instruments of thefoulest treachery that ever was practised against any people. It is tothose wicked Ministers who have given up that devoted country toplunder,—resigned it a prey to this faction, by which it has so longbeen trampled upon, and abandoned it to every species of insult andoppression by which a country was ever overwhelmed, or the spirit of apeople insulted, that we owe the miseries into which Ireland is plunged,and the dangers by which England is threatened. These evils are thedoings of wicked Ministers, and applied to them, the language of theAddress records a fatal and melancholy truth."

The popularity which the conduct of Mr. Sheridan, on the occasion of theMutiny, had acquired for him,—everywhere but among his own immediateparty,—seems to have produced a sort of thaw in the rigor of hisopposition to Government; and the language which he now began to hold,with respect to the power and principles of France, was such as procuredfor him, more than once in the course of the present Session, theunaccustomed tribute of compliments from the Treasury-bench. Without, inthe least degree, questioning his sincerity in this change of tone, itmay be remarked, that the most watchful observer of the tide of publicopinion 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 ofthe country. The dangers to which it had been reduced were great, but thecrisis seemed over. The new wings lent to Credit by the paper-currency,—the return of the navy to discipline and victory,—the disenchantmentthat had taken place with respect to French principles, and the growingpersuasion, since strengthened into conviction, that the world has nevercommitted a more gross mistake than in looking to the French as teachersof liberty,—the insulting reception of the late pacific overtures atLisle, and that never-failing appeal to the pride and spirit ofEnglishmen, which a threat of invading their sacred shore brings withit,—all these causes concurred, at this moment, to rally the people ofEngland round the Government, and enabled the Minister to extract fromthe very mischiefs which himself had created the spirit of all othersmost competent to bear and surmount them. Such is the elasticity of afree country, however, for the moment, misgoverned,—and the only glorydue to the Minister under whom such a people, in spite of misgovernment,flourishes, is that of having proved, by the experiment, how difficult itis to ruin them.

While Mr. Sheridan took these popular opportunities of occasionallyappearing before the public, Mr. Fox persevered, with but littleinterruption, in his plan of secession from Parliament altogether. Fromthe beginning of the Session of this year, when, at the instance of hisconstituents, he appeared in his place to oppose the Assessed Taxes Bill,till the month of February, 1800, he raised his voice in the House butupon two questions,—each "dignus vindice,"—the Abolition of theSlave-Trade, and a Change of System in Ireland. He had thrown into hisopposition too much real feeling and earnestness to be able, likeSheridan, to soften it down, or shape it to the passing temper of thetimes. In the harbor of private life alone could that swell subside; and,however the country missed his warning eloquence, there is little doubtthat his own mind and heart were gainers by a retirement, in which he hadleisure to "prune the ruffled wings" of his benevolent spirit,—toexchange the ambition of being great for that of being useful, and tolisten, in the stillness of retreat, to the lessons of a mild wisdom, ofwhich, had his life been prolonged, his country would have felt the fullinfluence.

From one of Sheridan's speeches at this time we find that the changewhich had lately taken place in his public conduct had given rise to someunworthy imputations upon his motives. There are few things less politicin an eminent public man than a too great readiness to answer accusationsagainst his character. For, as he is, in general, more extensively reador heard than his accusers, the first intimation, in most cases, that thepublic receives of any charge against him will be from his own answer toit. Neither does the evil rest here;—for the calumny remains embalmed inthe defence, long after its own ephemeral life is gone. To this unluckysort of sensitiveness Mr. Sheridan was but too much disposed to give way,and accordingly has been himself the chronicler of many charges againsthim, of which we should have been otherwise wholly ignorant. Of thisnature were the imputations founded on his alleged misunderstanding withthe Duke of Portland, in 1789, to which I have already made someallusion, and of which we should have known nothing but for his ownnotice of it. His vindication of himself, in 1795, from the suspicion ofbeing actuated by self-interest, in his connection with the Prince, or ofhaving received from him, (to use his own expressions,) "so much as thepresent of a horse or a picture," is another instance of the same kind,where he has given substance and perpetuity to rumor, and marked out thetrack of an obscure calumny, which would otherwise have been forgotten.At the period immediately under our consideration he has equally enabledus to collect, from his gratuitous defence of himself, that the linelately taken by him in Parliament, on the great questions of the Mutinyand Invasion, had given rise to suspicions of his political steadiness,and to rumors of his approaching separation from Mr. Fox.

"I am sorry," he said, on one occasion, "that it is hardly possible forany man to speak in this House, and to obtain credit for speaking from aprinciple of public spirit; that no man can oppose a Minister withoutbeing accused of faction, and none, who usually opposed, can support aMinister, or lend him assistance in anything, without being accused ofdoing so from interested motives. I am not such a coxcomb as to say, thatit is of much importance what part I may take; or that it is essentialthat I should divide a little popularity, or some emolument, with theministers of the Crown; nor am I so vain as to imagine, that my servicesmight be solicited. Certainly they have not. That might have arisen fromwant of importance in myself, or from others, whom I have been in thegeneral habit of opposing, conceiving that I was not likely either togive up my general sentiments, or my personal attachments. However thatmay be, certain it is, they never have made any attempt to apply to mefor my assistance."

In reviewing his parliamentary exertions during this year, it would beinjustice to pass over his speech on the Assessed Taxes Bill, in which,among other fine passages, the following vehement burst of eloquenceoccurs:

"But we have gained, forsooth, several ships by the victory of the Firstof June,—by the capture of Toulon,—by the acquisition of thosecharnel-houses in the West Indies, in which 50,000 men have been lost tothis country. Consider the price which has been paid for these successes.For these boasted successes, I will say, give me back the blood ofEnglishmen which has been shed in this fatal Contest.—give me back the250 millions of debt which it has occasioned.—give me back the honor ofthe country which has been tarnished,—give me back the credit of thecountry, which has been destroyed,—give me back the solidity of the Bankof England, which has been overthrown; the attachment of the people totheir ancient Constitution, which has been shaken by acts of oppressionand tyrannical laws,—give me back the kingdom of Ireland, the connectionof which is endangered by a cruel and outrageous system of militarycoercion,—give me back that pledge of eternal war, which must beattended with inevitable ruin !"

The great success which had attended The Stranger, and the stillincreasing taste for the German Drama, induced Mr. Sheridan, in thepresent year, to embark his fame even still more responsibly in a ventureto the same romantic shores. The play of Pizarro was brought out on the24th of May, 1799. The heroic interest of the plot, the splendor of thepageantry, and some skilful appeals to public feeling in the dialogue,obtained for it at once a popularity which has seldom been equalled. Asfar, indeed, as multiplied representations and editions are a proof ofsuccess, the legitimate issue of his Muse might well have been jealous ofthe fame and fortune of their spurious German relative. When the authorof the Critic made Puff say, "Now for my magnificence,—my noise and myprocession!" he little anticipated the illustration which, in twentyyears afterwards, his own example would afford to that ridicule. Not thatin pageantry, when tastefully and subordinately introduced, there is anything to which criticism can fairly object:—it is the dialogue of thisplay that is unworthy of its author, and ought never, from either motivesof 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, butis a sort of amphibious native of both,—neither gliding gracefullythrough the former element, nor walking steadily on the other. In orderto give pomp to the language, inversion is substituted for metre; and oneof the worst faults of poetry, a superfluity of epithet, is adopted,without that harmony which alone makes it venial or tolerable.

It is some relief however, to discover, from the manuscripts in mypossession, that Mr. Sheridan's responsibility for the defects of Pizarrois not very much greater than his claim to a share in its merits. In theplot, and the arrangement of the scenes, it is well known, there is butlittle alteration from the German original. The omission of the comicscene of Diego, which Kotzebue himself intended to omit,—the judicioussuppression of Elvira's love for Alonzo,—the introduction, so strikingin representation, of Rolla's passage across the bridge, and there-appearance of Elvira in the habit of a nun, form, I believe, the onlyimportant points in which the play of Mr. Sheridan deviates from thestructure of the original drama. With respect to the dialogue, his sharein its composition is reducible to a compass not much more considerable.A few speeches, and a few short scenes, re-written, constitute almost thewhole of the contribution he has furnished to it. The manuscript-translation, or rather imitation, of the "Spaniards in Pern,"which he used as the ground-work of Pizarro, has been preserved among hispapers:—and, so convenient was it to his indolence to take the style ashe found it, that, except, as I have said, in a few speeches and scenes,which might be easily enumerated, he adopted, with scarcely anyalteration, the exact words of the translator, whose taste, therefore,(whoever he may have been,) is answerable for the spirit and style ofthree-fourths of the dialogue. Even that scene where Cora describes the"white buds" and "crimson blossoms" of her infant's teeth, which I haveoften heard cited as a specimen of Sheridan's false ornament, is indebtedto this unknown paraphrast for the whole of its embroidery.

But though he is found to be innocent of much of the contraband matter,with which his co-partner in this work had already vitiated it, his owncontributions to the dialogue are not of a much higher or purer order. Heseems to have written down, to the model before him, and to have beeninspired by nothing but an emulation of its faults. His style,accordingly, is kept hovering in the same sort of limbo, between blankverse and prose,—while his thoughts and images, however shining andeffective on the stage, are like the diamonds of theatrical royalty, andwill not bear inspection off it. The scene between Alonzo and Pizarro, inthe third act, is one of those almost entirely rewritten by Sheridan; andthe following medley group of personifications affords a specimen of thestyle to which his taste could descend:—

"Then would I point out to him where now, in clustered villages, theylive like brethren, social and confiding, while through the burning dayContent sits basking on the cheek of Toil, till laughing Pastime leadsthem to the hour of rest."

The celebrated harangue of Rolla to the Peruvians, into which Kemble usedto infuse such heroic dignity, is an amplification of the followingsentences of the original, as I find them given in Lewis's manuscripttranslation of the play:—

"Rolla. You Spaniards fight for gold; we for our country.

"Alonzo. They follow an adventurer to the field; we a monarch whomwe love.

"Atalib. And a god whom we adore!"

This speech, to whose popular sentiments the play owed much of itssuccess, 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 alreadyremarked, from a passage in his speech on the trial of Hastings;—and hehad, on the subject of Invasion, in the preceding year, (1798,) deliveredmore than once the substance of those patriotic sentiments, which werenow so spirit-stirring in the mouth of Rolla. For instance, on the King'sMessage relative to preparation for Invasion:—

"The Directory may instruct their guards to make the fairest professionsof how their army is to act; but of these professions surely not one canbe believed. The victorious Buonaparte may say that he comes like aminister of grace, with no other purpose than to give peace to thecottager, to restore citizens to their rights, to establish real freedom,and a liberal and humane government. But can there be an Englishman sostupid, so besotted, so befooled, as to give a moment's credit to suchridiculous professions? … What, then, is their object? They come forwhat they really want: they come for ships, for commerce, for credit, andfor capital. Yes; they come for the sinews, the bones—for the marrow andthe very heart's blood of Great Britain. But let us examine what we areto purchase at this price. Liberty, it appears, is now their staplecommodity: but attend, I say, and examine how little of real liberty theythemselves enjoy, who are so forward and prodigal in bestowing it onothers."

The speech of Rolla in the prison-scene is also an interpolation of hisown,—Kotzebue having, far more judiciously, (considering the unfitnessof the moment for a tirade,) condensed the reflections of Rollainto the short exclamation, "Oh, sacred Nature! thou art still true tothyself," and then made him hurry into the prison to his friend.

Of the translation of this play by Lewis, which has been found among thepapers, Mr. Sheridan does not appear to have made any use;—except in sofar 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

"Soft are thy slumbers, soft and sweet,
Hush thee, hush thee, hush thee, boy."

The song of Mr. Lewis, however, is introduced, with somewhat lessviolence to probability, at the beginning of the Third Act, where thewomen are waiting for the tidings of the battle, and when the intrusionof a ballad from the heroine, though sufficiently unnatural, is not quiteso monstrous as in the situation which Sheridan has chosen for it.

The following stanza formed a part of the song, as it was originallywritten:—

'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 important measureof the Union, which he strenuously and at great length opposed. Likeevery other measure, professing to be for the benefit of Ireland, theUnion has been left incomplete in the one essential point, without whichthere is no hope of peace or prosperity for that country. As long asreligious disqualification is left to "lie like lees at the bottom ofmen's hearts," [Footnote: "It lay like lees at the bottom of men'shearts; and, if the vessel was but stirred, it would come up."—BACON,Henry VII.] in vain doth the voice of Parliament pronounce the word"Union" to the two Islands—a feeling, deep as the sea that breaksbetween them, answers back, sullenly, "Separation."

Through the remainder of Mr. Sheridan's political career it is myintention, for many reasons, to proceed with a more rapid step; andmerely to give the particulars of his public conduct, together with suchdocuments as I can bring to illustrate it, without entering into muchdiscussion or comment on either.

Of his speeches in 1800,—during which year, on account, perhaps, of theabsence of Mr. Fox from the House, he was particularly industrious,—Ishall select a few brief specimens for the reader. On the question of theGrant to the Emperor of Germany, 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 totrue liberty, that, in proportion as we love it, (and, whatever may besaid, I must still consider liberty an inestimable blessing,) we musthate and detest these principles. But more,—I do not think they evenexist in France. They have there died the best of deaths; a death I ammore pleased to see than if it had been effected by foreign force,—theyhave stung themselves to death, and died by their own poison."

The following is a concise and just summary of the causes and effects ofthe French Revolutionary war:—

"France, in the beginning of the Revolution, had conceived many romanticnotions; she was to put an end to war, and produce, by a pure form ofgovernment, a perfectibility of mind which before had never beenrealized. The Monarchs of Europe, seeing the prevalence of these newprinciples, trembled for their thrones. France, also, perceiving thehostility of Kings to her projects, supposed she could not be a Republicwithout the overthrow of thrones. Such has been the regular progress ofcause and effect; but who was the first aggressor, with whom the jealousyfirst arose, need not now be a matter of discussion. Both the Republicand the Monarchs who opposed her acted on the same principles;—thelatter said they must exterminate Jacobins, and the former that they mustdestroy monarchs. From this source have all the calamities of Europeflowed; and it is now a waste of time and argument to inquire furtherinto the subject."

Adverting, in his Speech on the Negotiation with France, to the overturesthat had been made for a Maritime Truce, he says, with that nationalfeeling, which rendered him at this time so popular,—

"No consideration for our ally, no hope of advantage to be derived fromjoint negotiation, should have induced the English Government to thinkfor a moment of interrupting the course of our naval triumphs. Thismeasure, Sir, would have broken the heart of the navy, and would havedamped all its future exertions. How would our gallant sailors have felt,when, chained to their decks like galley-slaves, they saw the enemy'svessels sailing under their bows in security, and proceeding, without apossibility of being molested, to revictual those places which had beenso long blockaded by their astonishing skill, perseverance, and valor? Wenever stood more in need of their services, and their feelings at no timedeserved to be more studiously consulted. The north of Europe presents toEngland a most awful and threatening aspect. Without giving an opinion asto the origin of these hostile dispositions, or pronouncing decidedlywhether they are wholly ill-founded, I hesitate not to say, that if theyhave been excited because we have insisted upon enforcing the oldestablished Maritime Law of Europe,—because we stood boldly forth indefence of indisputable privileges,—because we have refused to abandonthe source of our prosperity, the pledge of our security, and thefoundation of our naval greatness,—they ought to be disregarded or setat defiance. If we are threatened to be deprived of that which is thecharter of our existence, which has procured us the commerce of theworld, and been the means of spreading our glory over every land,—if therights and honors of our flag are to be called in question, every riskshould be run, and every danger braved. Then we should have a legitimatecause of war;—then the heart of every Briton would burn withindignation, 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 thenation; there let it fly while we shed the last drop of our blood inprotecting it, and let it be degraded only when the nation itself isoverwhelmed."

He thus ridicules, in the same speech, the etiquette that had beenobserved in the selection of the ministers who were to confer 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 thesame rank. Is not this as absurd as if Lord Whitworth were to be sent toPetersburgh, and told that he was not to treat but with some gentleman ofsix feet high, and as handsome as himself? Sir, I repeat, that this is astiff-necked policy, when the lives of thousands are at stake."

In the following year Mr. Pitt was succeeded, as Prime Minister, by Mr.Addington. The cause assigned for this unexpected change was thedifference of opinion that existed between the King and Mr. Pitt, withrespect to the further enfranchisem*nt of the Catholics of Ireland. Tothis measure the Minister and some of his colleagues consideredthemselves to have been pledged by the Act of Union; but, on finding thatthey could not carry it, against the scruples of their Royal Master,resigned.

Though Mr. Pitt so far availed himself of this alleged motive of hisabdication as to found on it rather an indecorous appeal to theCatholics, in which he courted popularity for himself at the expense ofthat of the King, it was suspected that he had other and lessdisinterested reasons for his conduct. Indeed, while he took merit tohimself for thus resigning his supremacy, he well knew that he stillcommanded it with "a falconer's voice," and, whenever he pleased, "couldlure the tassel-gentle back again." The facility with which he afterwardsreturned to power, without making any stipulation for the measure nowheld to be essential, proves either that the motive now assigned for hisresignation was false, or that, having sacrificed power to principle in1801, he took revenge by making principle, in its turn, give way to powerin 1804.

During the early part of the new Administration, Mr. Sheridan appears tohave rested on his arms,—having spoken so rarely and briefly throughoutthe Session as not to have furnished to the collector of his speeches asingle specimen of oratory worth recording. It is not till the discussionof the Definitive Treaty, in May, 1802, that he is represented as havingprofessed himself friendly to the existing Ministry:—"Certainly," hesaid, "I have in several respects given my testimony in favor of thepresent Ministry,—in nothing more than for making the best peace,perhaps, they could, after their predecessors had left them in such adeplorable situation." It was on this occasion, however, that, inridiculing the understanding supposed to exist between the Ex-ministerand his successor, he left such marks of his wit on the latter as all hissubsequent friendship could not efface. Among other remarks, full ofhumor, he said,—

"I should like to support the present Minister on fair ground; but whatis he? a sort of outside passenger,—or rather a man leading thehorses round a corner, while reins, whip, and all, are in the hands ofthe coachman on the box! (looking at Mr. Pitt's elevated seat,three or four benches above that of the Treasury.) Why not have anunion of the two Ministers, or, at least, some intelligible connection?When the Ex-minister quitted office, almost all the subordinateMinisters kept their places. How was it that the whole family did notmove together? Had he only one covered waggon to carry friendsand goods? or has he left directions behind him that they may knowwhere to call? I remember a fable of Aristophanes's, which istranslated from Greek into decent English. I mention this for the countrygentlemen. 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 toit. When Hercules pulled him off, he left all the sitting part of the manbehind him. The House can make the allusion." [Footnote: The following isanother highly humorous passage from this speech:—"But let France havecolonies! Oh, yes! let her have a good trade, that she may be afraid ofwar, says the Learned Member,—that's the way to make Buonaparte lovepeace. He has had, to be sure, a sort of military education. He has beenabroad, and is rather rough company; but if you put him behind thecounter a little, he will mend exceedingly. When I was reading theTreaty, I thought all the names of foreign places, viz. Poindicherry,Chandenenagore, Cochin, Martinico, &c, all cessions. Notthey—they are all so many traps and holes to catch thissilly fellow in, and make a merchant of him! I really think thebest way upon this principle would be this:—let the merchants of Londonopen a public subscription, and set him up at once. I hear a greatdeal respecting a certain statue about to be erected to the RightHonorable Gentleman, (Mr. Pitt,) now in my eye, at a great expense. Sendall that money over to the First Consul, and give him, what you talk ofso much, Capital, to begin trade with. I hope the Right HonorableGentleman over the way will, like the First Consul, refuse a statue forthe present, and postpone it as a work to posterity. There is no harm,however, in marking out the place. The Right Honorable Gentleman ismusing, perhaps, on what square, or place, he will choose for itserection. I recommend the Bank of England. Now for the material.Not gold: no, no!—he has not left enough of it. I should, however,propose papier mache and old banknotes."]

We have here an instance, in addition to the many which I have remarked,of his adroitness, not only in laying claim to all waifs of wit,"ubi non apparebat dominus," but in stealing the wit himself,wherever he could find it. This happy application of the fable ofHercules and Theseus to the Ministry had been first made by GilbertWakefield, in a Letter to Mr. Fox, which the latter read to Sheridan afew days before the Debate; and the only remark that Sheridan made, onhearing it, was, "What an odd pedantic fancy!" But the wit knew well thevalue of the jewel that the pedant had raked up, and lost no time inturning it to account with all his accustomed skill. The Letter ofWakefield, in which the application of the fable occurs, has beenomitted, I know not why, in his published Correspondence with Mr. Fox:but a Letter of Mr. Fox in the same collection, thus alludes toit:—"Your story of Theseus is excellent, as applicable to our presentrulers; if you could point out to me where I could find it, I should bemuch obliged to you. The Scholiast on Aristophanes is too wide adescription." Mr. Wakefield in answer, says,—"My Aristophanes, with theScholia, is not here. If I am right in my recollection, the storyprobably occurs in the Scholia on the Frogs, and would soon be found byreference to the name of Theseus in Kuster's Index."

Another instance of this propensity in Sheridan, (which made him a sortof Catiline in wit, "covetous of another's wealth, and profuse of hisown,") occurred during the preceding Session. As he was walking down tothe House with Sir Philip Francis and another friend, on the day when theAddress of Thanks on the Peace as moved, Sir Philip Francis pithilyremarked, that "it was a Peace which every one would be glad of, but noone 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 beenmany 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 aspossible,) said, "This, Sir, is a peace which every one will be glad of,but no one can be proud of." [Footnote: A similar theft was hisobservation, that "half the Debt of England had been incurred in pullingdown the Bourbons, and the other half in setting them up"—which pointedremark he had heard, in conversation, from Sir Arthur Pigott.]

The following letter from Dr. Parr to Sheridan, this year, records aninstance of delicate kindness which renders it well worthy ofpreservation:—

"DEAR SIR,

"I believe that you and my old pupil Tom feel a lively interest in myhappiness, and, therefore, I am eager to inform you that, without anysolicitation, and in the most handsome manner, Sir Francis Burdett hasoffered me the rectory of Graffham in Huntingdonshire; that the yearlyvalue of it now amounts to 200_l_., and is capable of considerableimprovement; that the preferment is tenable with my Northamptonshirerectory; that the situation is pleasant; and that, by making it my placeof residence, I shall be nearer to my respectable scholar and friend,Edward Maltby, to the University of Cambridge, and to those Norfolkconnections which I value most highly.

"I am not much skilled in ecclesiastical negotiations; and all my effortsto avail myself of the very obliging kindness conditionally intended forme by the Duke of Norfolk completely failed. But the noble friendship ofSir Francis Burdett has set everything right. I cannot refuse myself thegreat satisfaction of laying before you the concluding passage in SirFrancis's letter:—

"'I acknowledge that a great additional motive with me to the offer I nowmake Dr. Parr, is, that I believe I cannot do any thing more pleading tohis friends, Mr. Fox, Mr. Sheridan, and Mr. Knight; and I desire you,Sir, to consider yourself as obliged to them only.'

"You will readily conceive, that I was highly gratified with thisstriking and important passage, and that I wish for an early opportunityof communicating with yourself, and Mr. Fox, and Mr. Knight.

"I beg my best compliments to Mrs. Sheridan and Tom; and I have the honorto be, Dear Sir, your very faithful well-wisher, and respectful, obedientservant,

"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 atBuckden, near Huntingdon, where I yesterday received it."

It was about this time that the Primary Electors of the NationalInstitute of France having proposed Haydn, the great composer, and Mr.Sheridan, as candidates for the class of Literature and the Fine Arts,the Institute, with a choice not altogether indefensible, elected Haydn.Some French epigrams on this occurrence, which appeared in the Courier,seem to have suggested to Sheridan the idea of writing a few Englishjeux-d'esprit on the same subject, which were intended for thenewspapers, but I rather think never appeared. These verses show that hewas not a little piqued by the decision of the Institute; and the mannerin which he avails himself of his anonymous character to speak of his ownclaims to the distinction, is, it must be owned, less remarkable formodesty than for truth. But Vanity, thus in masquerade, may be allowedsome little license. The following is a specimen:—

"The wise decision all admire;
'Twas just, beyond dispute—
Sound taste! which, to Apollo's lyre
Preferred—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 theknowledge which his situation must have given him of the embarrassedstate of the concern, to enter into negotiation with Sheridan for thepurchase of a share in the property. How much anxiety the latter felt tosecure such an associate in the establishment appears strongly from thefollowing paper, drawn up by him, to accompany the documents submitted toKemble during the negotiation, and containing some particulars of theproperty of Drury-Lane, which will be found not uninteresting:—

"Outline of the Terms on which it is proposed that Mr. Kemble shallpurchase a Quarter in the Property of Drury-Lane Theatre.

"I really think there cannot be a negotiation, in matter of purchase andsale, so evidently for the advantage of both parties, if brought to asatisfactory conclusion.

"I am decided that the management of the theatre cannot be respected, orsuccessful, but in the hands of an actual proprietor; and still thebetter, if he is himself in the profession, and at the head of it. I amdesirous, therefore, that Mr. Kemble should be a proprietor and manager.

"Mr. Kemble is the person, of all others, who must naturally be desirousof 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 beassured of proper respect, &c., while I have the theatre; but I do notthink he could brook his situation were the property to pass into vulgarand illiberal hands,—an event which he knows contingencies mightproduce. Laying aside then all affectation of indifference, so common inmaking bargains, let us set out with acknowledging that it is mutuallyour interest to agree, if we can. At the same time, let it be avowed,that I must be considered as trying to get as good a price as I can, andMr. Kemble to buy as cheap as he can. In parting with theatricalproperty, there is no standard, or measure, to direct the price: thewhole question is, what are the probable profits, and what is such aproportion of them worth?

"I bought of Mr. Garrick at the rate of 70,000_l_. for the wholetheatre. I bought of Mr. Lacey at the rate of 94,000_l_. ditto. Ibought of Dr. Ford at the rate of 86,OOO_l_. ditto. In all thesecases there was a perishable patent, and an expiring lease, each havingto run, at the different periods of the purchases, from ten to twentyyears only.

"All these purchases have undoubtedly answered well; but in the chance ofa Third Theatre consisted the risk; and the want of size andaccommodation must have produced it, had the theatres continued as theywere. But the great and important feature in the presentproperty, and which is never for a moment to be lost sight of, is, thatthe Monopoly is, morally speaking, established for ever, at least as wellas the Monarchy, Constitution, 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 ofDrury-Lane, is perpetually annexed to the latter. So that the value ofDrury-Lane at present, and in the former sales, is out of allcomparison,—independently of the new building, superior size, raisedprices, &c., &c. But the incumbrances on the theatre, whose annual chargemust be paid before there can be any surplus profit, are much greaterthan in Mr. Garrick's time, or on the old theatre afterwards. Undoubtedlythey are, and very considerably greater; but what is the proportion ofthe receipts? Mr. Garrick realized and left a fortune, of140,OOO_l_. (having lived, certainly, at no mean expense,) acquiredin —— years, on an average annual receipt of 25,000_l_. (qu. this?)Our receipts cannot be stated at less than 60,000_l_. per ann.; andit is demonstrable that preventing the most palpable frauds and abuses,with even a tolerable system of exertion in the management, must bringit, at the least, to 75,000_l_.; and this estimate does not includethe advantages to be derived from the new tavern, passages, Chinese hall,&c.,—an aid to the receipt, respecting the amount of which I am verysanguine. What then, is the probable profit, and what is a quarter of itworth? No. 3. is the amount of three seasons' receipts, the only ones onwhich an attempt at an average could be justifiable. No. 4. is the futureestimate, on a system of exertion and good management. No. 5. the actualannual incumbrauces. No. 6. the nightly expenses. No. 7. the estimatedprofits. Calculating on which, I demand for a quarter of the property, ** * *, reserving to myself the existing private boxes, but no more to becreated, and the fruit-offices and houses not part of the theatre.

"I assume that Mr. Kemble and I agree as to the price, annexing thefollowing conditions to our agreement:—Mr. Kemble shall have hisengagement as an actor for any rational time he pleases. Mr. Kemble shallbe manager, with a clear salary of 500 guineas per annum, and * * percent. on the clear profits. Mr. Sheridan engages to procure from Messrs.Hammersleys a loan to Mr. Kemble of ten thousand pounds, part of thepurchase-money for four years, for which loan he is content to becomecollateral security, and also to leave his other securities, now in theirhands, in mortgage for the same. And for the payment of the rest of themoney, Mr. Sheridan is ready to give Mr. Kemble every facility hiscirc*mstances will admit of. It is not to be overlooked, that if aprivate box is also made over to Mr. Kemble, for the whole term of thetheatre lease, its value cannot be stated at less than 3,500_l_.Indeed, it might at any time produce to Mr. Kemble, or his assigns,300_l_ per annum. Vide No. 8. This is a material deduction from thepurchase-money to be paid.

"Supposing all this arrangement made, I conceive Mr. Kemble's incomewould stand thus:

£ s. d.Salary as an actor, 1050 0 0In lieu of benefit, 315 0 0As manager, 525 0 0Percentage on clear profit, 300 0 0Dividend on quarter-share, [Footnote: "I put this on the very lowestspeculation"] 2500 0 0 ______________

£4690 0 0 ______________

I need not say how soon this would clear the whole of the purchase. Withregard to the title, &c. Mr. Crews and Mr. Pigott are to decide. As todebts, 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 publicadvertisem*nt, to be sent to Mr. Kemble's own solicitor. In short, Mr.Crews shall be satisfied that there does not exist an unsatisfied demandon the theatre, or a possibility of Mr. Kemble being involved in the riskof a shilling. Mr. Hammersley, or such person as Mr. Kemble and Mr.Sheridan shall agree on, to be Treasurer, and receive and account for thewhole receipts, pay the charges, trusts, &c.; and, at the close of theseason, the surplus profits to the proprietors. A clause in case ofdeath, or sale, to give the refusal to each other."

The following letter from Sheridan to Kemble in answer, as it appears, tosome complaint or remonstrance from the latter, in his capacity ofManager, is too curiously characteristic of the writer to be omitted:—

"DEAR KEMBLE,

"If I had not a real good opinion of your principles and intentions uponall subjects, and a very bad opinion of your nerves and philosophy uponsome, I should take very ill indeed, the letter I received from you thisevening.

"That the management of the theatre is a situation capable of becomingtroublesome is information which I do not want, and a discoverywhich I thought you had made long since.

"I should be sorry to write to you gravely on your offer, because I mustconsider it as a nervous flight, which it would be as unfriendly in me tonotice seriously as it would be in you seriously to have made it.

"What I am most serious in is a determination that, while thetheatre is indebted, and others, for it and for me, are so involved andpressed as they are, I will exert myself, and give every attention andjudgment in my power to the establishment of its interests. In you Ihoped, and do hope, to find an assistant, on principles of liberal andfriendly confidence,—I mean confidence that should be above touchinessand reserve, and that should trust to me to estimate the value of thatassistance.

"If there is any thing amiss in your mind, not arising from thetroublesomeness of your situation, it is childish and unmanly notto disclose it to me. The frankness with which I have always dealttowards you entitles me to expect that you should have done so.

"But I have no reason to believe this to be the case; and, attributingyour letter to a disorder which I know ought not to be indulged, Iprescribe that you shall keep your appointment at the PiazzaCoffee-house, to-morrow at five, and, taking four bottles of claretinstead of three, to which in sound health you might stint yourself,forget that you ever wrote the letter, as I shall that I ever received it.

"R. B. SHERIDAN."

CHAPTER IX.

STATE OF PARTIES.—OFFER OF A PLACE TO MR. T. SHERIDAN.—RECEIVERSHIP OFTHE DUCHY OF CORNWALL BESTOWED UPON MR. SHERIDAN.—RETURN OF MR. PITT TOPOWER.—CATHOLIC QUESTION.—ADMINISTRATION OF LORD GRENVILLE AND MR.FOX.—DEATH OF MR. FOX.—REPRESENTATION OF WESTMINSTER.—DISMISSION OFTHE MINISTRY.—THEATRICAL NEGOTIATION.—SPANISH QUESTION.—LETTER TO THEPRINCE.

During the short interval of peace into which the country was nowlulled,—like a ship becalmed for a moment in the valley between two vastwaves,—such a change took place in the relative positions and bearingsof the parties that had been so long arrayed against each other, and suchnew boundaries and divisions of opinion were formed, as considerablyaltered the map of the political world. While Mr. Pitt lent his sanctionto the new Administration, they, who had made common cause with him inresigning, violently opposed it; and, while the Ministers were thusthwarted by those who had hitherto always agreed with them, they weresupported by those Whigs with whom they had before most vehementlydiffered. Among this latter class of their friends was, as I have alreadyremarked, Mr. Sheridan,—who, convinced that the only chance of excludingMr. Pitt from power lay in strengthening the hands of those who were inpossession, not only gave them the aid of his own name and eloquence, butendeavored to impress the same views upon Mr. Fox, and exerted hisinfluence also to procure the sanction of Carlton-House in their favor.

It cannot, indeed, he doubted that Sheridan, at this time, though stillthe 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 showedhis knowledge of that great instrument, the Public Mind, by approachingit only with such themes as suited the martial mood to which it wastuned, the too confiding spirit of Fox breathed nothing but forbearanceand peace;—and he who, in 1786, had proclaimed the "natural enmity" ofEngland and France, as an argument against their commercial intercourse,now asked, with the softened tone which time and retirement had taughthim, "whether France was for ever to be considered our rival?" [Footnote:Speech on the Address of Thanks in 1803.]

The following characteristic note, written by him previously to thedebate on the Army Estimates, (December 8, 1802,) shows a consciousnessthat 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 forto-morrow, it is no matter;—I am for a largish fleet, thoughperhaps not quite so large as they mean. Pray, do not be absent Monday,and let me have a quarter of an hour's conversation before the businessbegins. Remember, I do not wish you to be inconsistent, at any rate.Pitt's opinion by Proxy is ridiculous beyond conception, and I hope youwill show it in that light. I am very much against your abusingBonaparte, because I am sure it is impolitic both for the country andourselves. But, as you please;—only, for God's sake, Peace. [Footnote:These last words are an interesting illustration of the line in Mr.Rogers's Verses on this statesman:—"'Peace,' when he spoke, was ever onhis tongue"]

"Yours ever

"Tuesday night.

"C. J. Fox."

It was about this period that the writer of these pages had, for thefirst time, the gratification of meeting Mr. Sheridan, at Donington-Park,the seat of the present Marquis of Hastings;—a circ*mstance which herecalls, not only with those lively impressions, that our firstadmiration of genius leaves behind, but with many other dreams of youthand hope, that still endear to him the mansion where that meeting tookplace, and among which gratitude to its noble owner is the only one,perhaps, that has not faded. Mr. Sheridan, I remember, was just thenfurnishing a new house, and talked of a plan he had of levyingcontributions on his friends for a library. A set of books from eachwould, he calculated, amply accomplish it, and already the intimation ofhis design had begun to "breathe a soul into the silent walls."[Footnote: Rogers.] The splendid and well-chosen library of Doningtonwas, of course, not slow in furnishing its contingent; and little was itforeseen into what badges of penury these gifts of friendship would beconverted at last.

As some acknowledgment of the services which Sheridan had rendered to theMinistry, (though professedly as a tribute to his public character ingeneral,) Lord St. Vincent, about this time, made an offer to his son,Mr. Thomas Sheridan, of the place of Registrar of the Vice-AdmiraltyCourt of Malta,—an office which, during a period of war, is supposed tobe of considerable emolument. The first impulse of Sheridan, whenconsulted on the proposal, was, as I have heard, not unfavorable to hisson's acceptance of it. But, on considering the new position which hehad, himself, lately taken in politics, and the inference that might bedrawn against the independence of his motives, if he submitted to anobligation which was but too liable to be interpreted, as less a returnfor past services than a lien upon him for future ones, he thoughtit safest for his character to sacrifice the advantage, and, desirable aswas the provision for his son, obliged him to decline it.

The following passages of a letter to him from Mrs. Sheridan on thissubject do the highest honor to her generosity, spirit, and good sense.They also confirm what has generally been understood, that the King,about this time, sent a most gracious message to Sheridan, expressive ofthe approbation with which he regarded his public conduct, and of thepleasure he should feel in conferring upon him some mark of his Royalfavor:—

"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 toobserve those attentions that honor does not compel you to refuse? Don'tyou know that when once the King takes offence, he was never known toforgive? I suppose it would be impossible to have your motives explainedto him, because it would touch his weak side, yet any thing is betterthan his attributing your refusal to contempt and indifference. Would toGod I could bear these necessary losses instead of Tom, particularly as Iso entirely approve of your conduct."

"I trust you will be able to do something positive for Tom about money. Iam willing to make any sacrifice in the world for that purpose, and tolive in any way whatever. Whatever he has now ought to be certain,or how will he know how to regulate his expenses?"

The fate, indeed, of young Sheridan was peculiarly tantalizing. Born andbrought up in the midst of those bright hopes, which so long encircledhis father's path, he saw them all die away as he became old enough toprofit by them, leaving difficulty and disappointment, his onlyinheritance, behind. Unprovided with any profession by which he couldsecure his own independence, and shut out, as in this instance, fromthose means of advancement, which, it was feared, might compromise theindependence of his father, he was made the victim even of thedistinction of his situation, and paid dearly for the glory of being theson of Sheridan. In the expression of his face, he resembled much hisbeautiful mother, and derived from her also the fatal complaint of whichhe died. His popularity in society was unexampled,—but he knew how toattach as well as amuse; and, though living chiefly with that class ofpersons, who pass over the surface of life, like Camilla over the corn,without leaving any impression of themselves behind, he had manly andintelligent 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 thenumerous instances of discriminating good nature, by which the privateconduct of His Royal Highness the Duke of York is distinguished, thereare, none that do him more honor than his prompt and efficient kindnessto the interesting family that the son of Sheridan has left behind him.

Soon after the Declaration of War against France, when an immediateinvasion was threatened by the enemy, the Heir Apparent, with the truespirit of an English Prince, came forward to make an offer of hispersonal service to the country. A correspondence upon the subject, it iswell known, ensued, in the course of which His Royal Highness addressedletters to Mr. Addington, to the Duke of York, and the King. It has beensometimes stated that these letters were from the pen of Mr. Sheridan;but the first of the series was written by Sir Robert Wilson, and theremainder by Lord Hutchinson.

The death of Joseph Richardson, which took place this year, was felt asstrongly by Sheridan as any thing can be felt, by those who, inthe whirl of worldly pursuits, revolve too rapidly round Self, to let anything rest long upon their surface. With a fidelity to his old habits ofunpunctuality, at which the shade of Richardson might have smiled, hearrived too late at Bagshot for the funeral of his friend, but succeededin persuading the good-natured clergyman to perform the ceremony overagain. Mr. John Taylor, a gentleman, whose love of good-fellowship andwit has made him the welcome associate of some of the brightest men ofhis day, was one of the assistants at this singular scene, and alsojoined in the party at the inn at Bedfont afterwards, where Sheridan, itis said, drained the "Cup of Memory" to his friend, till he foundoblivion 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 the resignation ofMr. Pitt, had given way to new varieties, both of cohesion andseparation, quite as little to be expected from the natural affinities ofthe ingredients concerned in them. Mr. Pitt, upon perceiving, in those towhom he had delegated his power, an inclination to surround themselveswith such strength from the adverse ranks as would enable them to contesthis resumption of the trust, had gradually withdrawn the sanction whichhe at first afforded them, and taken his station by the side of the othertwo parties in opposition, without, however, encumbering himself, in hisviews upon office, with either. By a similar movement, though upondifferent principles, Mr. Fox and the Whigs, who had begun by supportingthe Ministry against the strong War-party of which Lord Grenville and Mr.Windham were the leaders, now entered into close co-operation with thisnew Opposition, and seemed inclined to forget, both recent and ancientdifferences in a combined assault upon the tottering Administration ofMr. Addington.

The only parties, perhaps, that acted with consistency through thesetransactions, were Mr. Sheridan and the few who followed him on one side,and Lord Grenville and his friends on the other. The support which theformer had given to the Ministry,—from a conviction that such was thetrue policy of his party,—he persevered in, notwithstanding thesuspicion it drew down upon him, to the last; and, to the last,deprecated the connection with the Grenvilles, as entangling his friendsin the same sort of hollow partnership, out of which they had comebankrupts in character and confidence before. [Footnote: In a letterwritten this year by Mr. Thomas Sheridan to his father, there is thefollowing passage—"I am glad you intended wrong to Lord ——, he isquite right about politics—reprobates the idea most strongly ofany union with the Granvilles, &c which, he says he sees as Fox'sleaning. 'I agreed with your father perfectly on the subject, when I lefthim in town, but when I saw Charles at St. Ann's Hill, I perceived he waswrong and obstinate.'"] In like manner, it must be owned the Opposition,of which Lord Grenville was the head, held a course direct andundeviating from beginning to end. Unfettered by those reservations infavor of Addington, which so long embarrassed the movements of theirformer leader, they at once started in opposition to the Peace and theMinistry, and, with not only Mr. Pitt and Mr. Fox, but the whole peopleof England against them, persevered till they had ranged all theseseveral parties on their side:—nor was it altogether without reason thatthis party afterwards boasted that, if any abandonment of principle hadoccurred in the connection between them and the Whigs, the surrender wasassuredly not from their side.

Early in the year 1804, on the death of Lord Elliot, the office ofReceiver of the Duchy of Cornwall, which had been held by that nobleman,was bestowed by the Prince of Wales upon Mr. Sheridan, "as a triflingproof of that sincere friendship His Royal Highness had always professedand felt for him through a long series of years." His Royal Highness alsoadded, in the same communication, the very cordial words, "I wish to Godit was better worth your acceptance."

The following letter from Sheridan to Mr. Addington, communicating theintelligence of this appointment, shows pretty plainly the terms on whichhe not only now stood, but was well inclined to continue, with thatMinister:—

"DEAR SIR,

"George-Street, Tuesday evening.

"Convinced as I am of the sincerity of your good will towards me, I donot regard it as an impertinent intrusion to inform you that the Princehas, in the most gracious manner, and wholly unsolicited, been pleased toappoint me to the late Lord Elliot's situation in the Duchy of Cornwall.I feel a desire to communicate this to you myself, because I feel aconfidence that you will be glad of it. It has been my pride and pleasureto have exerted my humble efforts to serve the Prince without everaccepting the slightest obligation from him; but, in the present case,and under the present circ*mstances, I think it would have been reallyfalse pride and apparently mischievous affectation to have declined thismark of His Royal Highness's confidence and favor. I will not disguisethat, at this peculiar crisis, I am greatly gratified at this event. Hadit been the result of a mean and subservient devotion to the Prince'severy wish and object, I could neither have respected the gift, thegiver, nor myself; but when I consider how recently it was my misfortuneto find myself compelled by a sense of duty, stronger than my attachmentto him, wholly to risk the situation I held in his confidence and favor,and that upon a subject [Footnote: The offer made by the Prince of hispersonal services in 1803,—on which occasion Sheridan coincided with theviews of Mr. Addington somewhat more than was agreeable to His RoyalHighness.] on which his feelings were so eager and irritable, I cannotbut regard the increased attention, with which he has since honored me,as a most gratifying demonstration that he has clearness of judgment andfirmness of spirit to distinguish the real friends to his true glory andinterests from the mean and mercenary sycophants, who fear and abhor thatsuch friends should be near him. It is satisfactory to me, also, thatthis appointment gives me the title and opportunity of seeing the Prince,on trying occasions, openly and in the face of day, and puts aside themask of mystery and concealment. I trust I need not add, that whateversmall portion of fair influence I may at any time possess with thePrince, it shall be uniformly exerted to promote those feelings of dutyand affection towards their Majesties, which, though seeminglyinterrupted by adverse circ*mstances, I am sure are in his heart warm andunalterable—and, as far as I may presume, that general concordthroughout his illustrious family, which must be looked to by everyhonest subject, as an essential part of the public strength at thismomentous 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, insupporting an administration which, with all its defects, they consideredpreferable 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 moreefficient sanction, by enrolling himself in its ranks as Treasurer of theNavy. In the early part of the present year, another ornament of the Whigparty, Mr. Erskine, was on the point of following in the same footsteps,by accepting, from Mr. Addington, the office of Attorney-General. He had,indeed, proceeded so far in his intention as to submit the overtures ofthe Minister to the consideration of the Prince, in a letter which wastransmitted to his Royal Highness by Sheridan. The answer of the Prince,conveyed also through Sheridan, while it expressed the most friendlyfeelings towards Erskine, declined, at the same time, giving any opinionas to either his acceptance or refusal of the office of Attorney-General,if offered to him under the present circ*mstances. His Royal Highnessalso added the expression of his sincere regret, that a proposal of thisnature should have been submitted to his consideration by one, of whoseattachment and fidelity to himself he was well convinced, but who oughtto have felt, from the line of conduct adopted and persevered in by hisRoyal Highness, that he was the very last person that should have beenapplied to for either his opinion or countenance respecting the politicalconduct or connection of any public character,—especially of one sointimately connected with him, and belonging to his family.

If, at any time, Sheridan had entertained the idea of associatinghimself, by office, with the Ministry of Mr. Addington, (and proposals tothis effect were, it is certain, made to him,) his knowledge of theexistence of such feelings as prompted this answer to Mr. Erskine would,of course, have been sufficient to divert him from the intention.

The following document, which I have found, in his own handwriting, andwhich was intended, apparently, for publication in the newspapers,contains some particulars with respect to the proceedings of his party atthis time, which, coming from such a source, may be considered asauthentic:—

"STATE OF PARTIES.

"Among the various rumors of Coalitions, or attempted Coalitions, we havealready expressed our disbelief in that reported to have taken placebetween the Grenville-Windhamites and Mr. Fox. At least, if it was everin negotiation, we have reason to think it received an early check,arising from a strong party of the Old Opposition protestingagainst it. The account of this transaction, as whispered in thepolitical circles, is as follows:—

"In consequence of some of the most respectable members of the OldOpposition being sounded on the subject, a meeting was held atNorfolk-House; when it was determined, with very few dissentient voices,to present a friendly remonstrance on the subject to Mr. Fox, stating themanifold reasons which obviously presented themselves against such aprocedure, both as affecting Character and Party. it was urged that thepresent Ministers had, on the score of innovation on the Constitution,given the Whigs no pretence for complaint whatever; and, as to theiralleged incapacity, it remained to be proved that they were capable ofcommitting errors and producing miscarriages, equal to those which hadmarked the councils of their predecessors, whom the measure in questionwas expressly calculated to replace in power. At such a momentous crisis,therefore, waving all considerations of past political provocation, toattempt, by the strength and combination of party, to expel the Ministersof His Majesty's choice, and to force into his closet those whom theWhigs ought to be the first to rejoice that he had excluded from it, wasstated to be a proceeding which would assuredly revolt the publicfeeling, degrade the character of Parliament, and produce possiblyincalculable mischief to the country.

"We understand that Mr. Fox's reply was, that he would never take anypolitical step against the wishes and advice of the majority of his oldfriends.

"The paper is said to have been drawn up by Mr. Erskine, and to have beenpresented to Mr. Fox by his Grace of Norfolk, on the day His Majesty waspronounced to be recovered from his first illness. Rumor places among thesupporters of this measure the written authority of the Duke ofNorthumberland and the Earl of Moira, with the signatures of Messrs.Erskine, Sheridan, Shum, Curwen, Western, Brogden, and a long etcaetera. It is said also that the Prince's sanction had beenpreviously given to the Duke,—His Royal Highness deprecating all partystruggle, at a moment when the defence of all that is dear to Britonsought to be the single sentiment that should fill the public mind.

"We do not vouch for the above being strictly accurate; but we areconfident that it is not far from the truth."

The illness of the King, referred to in this paper, had been firstpublicly announced in the month of February, and was for some timeconsidered of so serious a nature, that arrangements were actually inprogress for the establishment of a Regency. Mr. Sheridan, who now formeda sort of connecting link between Carlton-House and the Minister, took,of course, a leading part in the negotiations preparatory to such ameasure. It appears, from a letter of Mr. Fox on the subject, that thePrince and another person, whom it is unnecessary to name, were at onemoment not a little alarmed by a rumor of an intention to associate theDuke of York and the Queen in the Regency. Mr. Fox, however, begs ofSheridan to tranquillize their minds on this point:—the intentions, (headds,) of "the Doctor," [Footnote: To the infliction of this nickname onhis friend, Mr. Addington, Sheridan was, in no small degree, accessory,by applying to those who disapproved of his administration, and yet gaveno 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."] 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 hisbrother Whigs, one of the consequences which it prognosticated from theconnection of their party with the Grenvilles took place, in theresignation of Mr. Addington and the return of Mr. Pitt to power.

The confidence of Mr. Pitt, in thus taking upon himself, almostsingle-handed, the government of the country at such an awful crisis,was, he soon perceived, not shared by the public. A general expectationhad prevailed that the three great Parties, which had lately beenencamped together on the field of opposition, would have each sent itsChiefs into the public councils, and thus formed such a Congress of powerand talent as the difficulties of the empire, in that trying moment,demanded. This hope had been frustrated by the repugnance of the King toMr. Fox, and the too ready facility with which Mr. Pitt had given way toit. Not only, indeed, in his undignified eagerness for office, did hesacrifice without stipulation the important question, which, but twoyears before, had been made the sine-qua non of his services, but,in yielding so readily to the Royal prejudices against his rival, he gavea sanction to that unconstitutional principle of exclusion, [Footnote:"This principle of personal exclusion, (said Lord Grenville,) is one ofwhich I never can approve, because, independently of its operation toprevent Parliament and the people from enjoying the Administration theydesired, and which it was their particular interest to have, it tends toestablish a dangerous precedent, that would afford too much opportunityof private pique against the public interest. I, for one, therefore,refused to connect myself with any one argument that should sanction thatprinciple; and, in my opinion, every man who accepted office under thatAdministration is, according to the letter and spirit of theconstitution, responsible for its character and construction, and theprinciple upon which it is founded."—Speech of Lord Grenville on themotion of Lord Darnley for the repeal of the Additional Force Bill, Feb.15, 1805.] which, if thus acted upon by the party-feelings of theMonarch, would soon narrow the Throne into the mere nucleus of a favoredfaction. In allowing, too, his friends and partisans to throw the wholeblame of this exclusive Ministry on the King, he but repeated theindecorum of which he had been guilty in 1802. For, having at that timemade use of the religious prejudices of the Monarch, as a pretext for hismanner of quitting office, he now employed the political prejudices ofthe same personage, as an equally convenient excuse for his manner ofreturning to it.

A few extracts from the speech of Mr. Sheridan upon the Additional ForceBill,—the only occasion on which he seems to have spoken during thepresent year,—will show that the rarity of his displays was not owing toany failure of power, but rather, perhaps, to the increasing involvementof his circ*mstances, which left no time for the thought and preparationthat all his public efforts required.

Mr. Pitt had, at the commencement of this year, condescended to call tohis aid the co-operation of Mr. Addington, Lord Buckinghamshire, andother members of that Administration, which had withered away, but a fewmonths before, under the blight of his sarcasm and scorn. In alluding tothis Coalition, Sheridan says—

"The Right Honorable Gentleman went into office alone;—but, lest thegovernment should become too full of vigor from his support, he thoughtproper to beckon back some of the weakness of the former administration.He, I suppose, thought that the Ministry became, from his support, likespirits above proof, and required to be diluted; that, like gold refinedto a certain degree, it would be unfit for use without a certain mixtureof alloy; that the administration would be too brilliant, and dazzle theHouse, unless he called back a certain part of the mist and fog of thelast administration to render it tolerable to the eye. As to the greatchange made in the Ministry by the introduction of the Right HonorableGentleman himself, I would ask, does he imagine that he came back tooffice with the same estimation that he left it? I am sure he is muchmistaken if he fancies that he did. The Right Honorable Gentleman retiredfrom office because, as was stated, he could not carry an importantquestion, which he deemed necessary to satisfy the just claims of theCatholics; and in going out he did not hesitate to tear off the sacredveil of Majesty, describing his Sovereign as the only person that stoodin the way of this desirable object. After the Right HonorableGentleman's retirement, he advised the Catholics to look to no one buthim for the attainment of their rights, and cautiously to abstain fromforming a connection with any other person. But how does it appear, nowthat the Right Honorable Gentleman is returned to office? He declines toperform his promise; and has received, as his colleagues in office, thosewho are pledged to resist the measure. Does not the Right HonorableGentleman then feel that he comes back to office with a characterdegraded by the violation of a solemn pledge, given to a great andrespectable body of the people, upon a particular and momentous occasion?Does the Right Honorable Gentleman imagine either that he returns tooffice with the same character for political wisdom, after thedescription which he gave of the talents and capacity of hispredecessors, and after having shown, by his own actions, that hisdescription was totally unfounded?"

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 youforget the leader of the grand Catamaran project? Are you not aware ofthe important change in that department, and the advantage the country islikely to derive from that change?' Why, I answer, that I do not know ofany peculiar qualifications the Noble Lord has to preside over theAdmiralty; but I do know, that if I were to judge of him from the kind ofcapacity he evinced while Minister of War, I should entertain littlehopes of him. If, however, the Right Honorable Gentleman should say tome, 'Where else would you put that Noble Lord, would you have himappointed War-Minister again?' I should say, Oh no, by no means,—Iremember too well the expeditions to Toulon, to Quiberon, to Corsica, andto Holland, the responsibility for each of which the Noble Lord took onhimself, entirely releasing from any responsibility the Commander inChief and the Secretary at War. I also remember that, which, although soglorious to our arms in the result, I still shall call a mostunwarrantable project.—the expedition to Egypt. It may be said, that asthe Noble Lord was so unfit for the military department, the naval wasthe proper place for him. Perhaps there wore people who would adopt thiswhimsical reasoning. I remember a story told respecting Mr. Garrick, whowas once applied to by an eccentric Scotchman, to introduce a productionof his on the stage. This Scotchman was such a good-humored fellow, thathe was called 'Honest Johnny M'Cree.' Johnny wrote four acts of atragedy, which he showed to Mr. Garrick, who dissuaded him from finishingit; telling him that his talent did not lie that way; so Johnny abandonedthe tragedy, and set about writing a comedy. When this was finished, heshowed it to Mr. Garrick, who found it to be still more exceptionablethan the tragedy, and of course could not be persuaded to bring itforward on the stage. This surprised poor Johnny, and he remonstrated.'Nay, now, David, (said Johnny,) did you not tell me my talents did notlie in tragedy?'—'Yes, (replied Garrick,) but I did not tell you thatthey lay in comedy.'—'Then, (exclaimed Johnny,) gin they dinna liethere, where the de'il dittha lie, mon?' Unless the Noble Lord at thehead of the Admiralty has the same reasoning in his mind as JohnnyM'Cree, he cannot possibly suppose that his incapacity for the directionof the War-department necessarily qualifies him for the Presidency of theNaval. Perhaps, if the Noble Lord be told that he has no talents for thelatter, His Lordship may exclaim with honest Johnny M'Cree, 'Gin theydinna lie there, where the de'il dittha lie, mon?'"

On the 10th of May, the claims of the Roman Catholics of Ireland, were,for the first time, brought under the notice of the Imperial Parliament,by Lord Grenville in the House of Lords, and by Mr. Fox in the House ofCommons. A few days before the debate, as appears, by the followingremarkable letter, Mr. Sheridan was made the medium of a communicationfrom Carlton House, the object of which was to prevent Mr. Fox frompresenting the Petition.

"DEAR SHERIDAN,

"I did not receive your letter till last night.

"I did, on Thursday, consent to be the presenter of the CatholicPetition, at the request of the Delegates, and had further conversationon the subject with them at Lord Grenville's yesterday morning. LordGrenville also consented to present the Petition to the House of Lords.Now, therefore, any discussion on this part of the subject would be toolate; but I will fairly own, that, if it were not, I could not bedissuaded from doing the public act, which, of all others, it will giveme the greatest satisfaction and pride to perform. No past event in mypolitical life ever did, and no future one ever can, give me suchpleasure.

"I am sure you know how painful it would be to me to disobey any commandof His Royal Highness's, or even to act in any manner that might be inthe slightest degree contrary to his wishes, and therefore I am not sorrythat your intimation came too late. I shall endeavor to see the Princetoday; but, if I should fail, pray take care that he knows how thingsstand before we meet at dinner, lest any conversation there should appearto come upon him by surprise.

"Yours ever,

"Arlington Street, Sunday,

"C. J. F."

It would be rash, without some further insight into the circ*mstances ofthis singular interference, to enter into any speculations with respectto its nature or motives, or to pronounce how far Mr. Sheridan wasjustified in being the instrument of it. But on the share of Mr. Fox inthe transaction, such suspension of opinion is unnecessary. We have herehis simple and honest words before us,—and they breathe a spirit ofsincerity from which even Princes might take a lesson with advantage.

Mr. Pitt was not long in discovering that place does not always implyPower, 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 humiliatingresource to which he was driven, in trying, as a tonic, the reluctantalliance of Lord Sidmouth,—the abortiveness of his efforts to avert thefull of his old friend, Lord Melville, and the fatality of ill luck thatstill attended his exertions against France,—all concurred to render thisreign of the once powerful Minister a series of humiliations, shifts, anddisasters, unlike his former proud period in every thing but ill success.The powerful Coalition opposed to him already had a prospect of carryingby storm the post which he occupied, when, by his death, it wassurrendered, without parley, into their hands.

The Administration that succeeded, under the auspices of Lord Grevilleand Mr. Fox, bore a resemblance to the celebrated Brass of Corinth, more,perhaps, in the variety of the metals brought together, than in theperfection of the compound that resulted from their fusion. [Footnote:See in the Annual Register of 1806, some able remarks upon Coalitions ingeneral, as well as a temperate defence of this Coalition inparticular,—for which that work is, I suspect, indebted to a hand such ashas not often, since the time of Burke, enriched its pages.] There werecomprised in it, indeed, not only the two great parties of the leadingchiefs, but those Whigs who differed with them both under the AddingtonMinistry, and the Addingtons that differed with them all on the subjectof the Catholic claims. With this last anomalous addition to themiscellany the influence of Sheridan is mainly chargeable. Having, forsome time past, exerted all his powers of management to bring about acoalition between Carlton-House and Lord Sidmouth, he had been at lengthso successful, that upon the formation of the present Ministry, it wasthe express desire of the Prince that Lord Sidmouth should constitute apart of it. To the same unlucky influence, too, is to be traced the veryquestionable measure, (notwithstanding the great learning and abilitywith which it was defended,) of introducing the Chief Justice, LordEllenborough, 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 theCabinet; and it is probable that Mr. Fox, at the head of a purely Whigministry, would have so far considered the services of his ancient ally,and the popularity still attached to his name through the country, as toconfer upon him this mark of distinction and confidence. But there wereother interests to be consulted;—and the undisguised earnestness withwhich 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 anysuch office as that of Treasurer of the Navy, for the responsibility andbusiness of which they knew his habits so wholly unfitted him,—but that,if excluded by his colleagues from the distinction of a seat in theCabinet, he should decline all office whatsoever, and take his chance ina friendly independence of them. But the time was now past when he couldafford to adopt this policy,—the emoluments of a place were toonecessary to him to be rejected;—and, in accepting the same office thathad been allotted to him in the Regency—arrangements of 1789, he musthave felt, with no small degree of mortification, how stationary all hisefforts since then had left him, and what a blank was thus made of allhis services in the interval.

The period of this Ministry, connected with the name of Mr. Fox, thoughbrief, and in some respects, far from laudable, was distinguished by twomeasures,—the Plan of Limited Service, and the Resolution for theAbolition of the Slave-Trade,—which will long be remembered to the honorof those concerned in them. The motion of Mr. Fox against the Slave-Tradewas the last he ever made in Parliament;—and the same sort of melancholyadmiration that Pliny expressed, in speaking of a beautiful picture, thepainter of which had died in finishing it,—"dolor manas dum id ageret,abreptae"—comes naturally over our hearts in thinking of the last,glorious work, to which this illustrious statesman, in dying, set hishand.

Though it is not true, as has been asserted, that Mr. Fox refused to seeSheridan in his last illness, it is but too certain that thoseappearances of alienation or reserve, which had been for some time pastobservable in the former, continued to throw a restraint over theirintercourse with each other to the last. It is a proof, however, of theabsence of any serious grounds for this distrust, that Sheridan as theperson selected by the relatives of Mr. Fox to preside over and directthe arrangements of the funeral, and that he put the last, solemn seal totheir long intimacy, by following his friend, as mourner, to the grave.

The honor of representing the city of Westminster in Parliament had been,for some time, one of the dreams of Sheridan's ambition. It wassuspected, indeed,—I know not with what justice,—that in advising Mr.Fox, as he is said to have done, about the year 1800, to secede frompublic life altogether, he was actuated by a wish to succeed him in therepresentation of Westminster, and had even already set on foot someprivate negotiations towards that object. Whatever grounds there may havebeen for this suspicion, the strong wish that he felt on the subject hadlong been sufficiently known to his colleagues; and on the death of Mr.Fox, it appeared, not only to himself, but the public, that he was theperson naturally pointed out as most fit to be his parliamentarysuccessor. It was, therefore, with no slight degree of disappointment hediscovered, that the ascendancy of Aristocratic influence was, as usual,to prevail, and that the young son of the Duke of Northumberland would besupported by the Government in preference to him, It is but right,however, in justice to the Ministry, to state, that the neglect withwhich they appear to have treated him on this occasion,—particularly innot apprising him of their decision in favor of Lord Percy, sufficientlyearly to save him from the humiliation of a fruitless attempt,—isproved, by the following letters, to have originated in a doublemisapprehension, by which, while Sheridan, on one side, was led tobelieve that the Ministers would favor his pretensions, the Ministers, onthe other, were induced to think that he had given up all intentions ofbeing a candidate.

The first letter is addressed to the gentleman, (one of Sheridan'sintimate friends,) who seems to have been, unintentionally, the cause ofthe mistake on both sides.

"DEAR ——,

"Somerset-Place, September 14.

"You must have seen by my manner, yesterday, how much I was surprised andhurt at learning, for the first time, that Lord Grenville had, many daysprevious to Mr. Fox's death, decided to support Lord Percy on theexpected vacancy for Westminster, and that you had since been the activeagent in the canvass actually commenced. I do not like to think I havegrounds to complain or change my opinion of any friend, without beingvery explicit, and opening my mind, without reserve, on such a subject. Imust frankly declare, that I think you have brought yourself and me intoa very unpleasant dilemma. You seemed to say, last night, that you hadnot been apprised of my intention to offer for Westminster on theapprehended vacancy. I am confident you have acted under that impression;but I must impute to you either great inattention to what fell from me inour last conversation on the subject, or great inaccuracy ofrecollection; for I solemnly protest I considered you as the individualmost distinctly apprised, that at this moment to succeed that great manand revered friend in Westminster, should the fatal event take place,would be the highest object of my ambition; for, in that conversation Ithanked you expressly for informing me that Lord Grenville had said toyourself, upon Lord Percy being suggested to him, that he, LordGrenville, 'would decide on nothing until Mr. Sheridan had been spokento, and his intentions known' or words precisely to that effect. Iexpressed my grateful sense of Lord Grenville's attention, and said, thatit would confirm me in my intention of making no application, howeverhopeless myself respecting Mr. Fox, while life remained with him,—andthese words of Lord Grenville you allowed last night to have been sostated to me, though not as a message from His Lordship. Since that timeI think we have not happened to meet; at least sure I am, we have had noconversation on the subject. Having the highest opinion of LordGrenville's honor and sincerity, I must be confident that he must havehad another impression made on his mind respecting my wishes before I wasentirely passed by. I do not mean to say that my offering myself wasimmediately to entitle me to the support of Government, but I do mean tosay, that my pretensions were entitled to consideration before thatsupport was offered to another without the slightest notice taken ofme,—the more especially as the words of Lord Grenville, reported by youto me, had been stated by me to many friends as my reliance andjustification in not following their advice by making a directapplication to Government. I pledged myself to them that Lord Grenvillewould not promise the support of Government till my intentions had beenasked, and I quoted your authority for doing so: I never heard a syllableof that support being promised to Lord Percy until from you on theevening of Mr. Fox's death. Did I ever authorize you to inform LordGrenville that I had abandoned the idea of offering myself? These arepoints which it is necessary, for the honor of all parties, should beamicably explained. I therefore propose, as the shortest way of effectingit,—wishing you not to consider this letter as in any degreeconfidential,—that my statements in this letter may be submitted to anytwo common friends, or to the Lord Chancellor alone, and let it beascertained where the error has arisen, for error is all I complain of;and, with regard to Lord Grenville, I desire distinctly to say, that Ifeel myself indebted for the fairness and kindness of his intentionstowards me. My disappointment of the protection of Government may be asufficient excuse to the friends I am pledged to, should I retire; but Imust have it understood whether or not I deceived them, when I led themto expect that I should have that support.

"I 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 themisconception, was addressed by Sheridan to Lord Grenville:

"MY DEAR LORD,

"Since I had the honor of Your Lordship's letter, I have received onefrom Mr. ——, in which, I am sorry to observe he is silent as to my offerof meeting, in the presence of a third person, in order to ascertainwhether he did or not so report a conversation with Your Lordship as toimpress on my mind a belief that my pretensions would be considered,before the support of Government should be pledged elsewhere. Instead ofthis, he not only does not admit the precise words quoted by me, but doesnot state what he allows he did say. If he denies that he ever gave mereason to adopt the belief I have stated, be it so; but the onlystipulation I have made is that we should come to an explicitunderstanding on this subject,—not with a view to quoting words orrepeating names, but that the misapprehension, whatever it was, may be soadmitted as not to leave me under an unmerited degree of discredit anddisgrace. Mr. —— certainly never encouraged me to stand for Westminster,but, on the contrary, advised me to support Lord Percy, which made me themore mark at the time the fairness with which I thought he apprised me ofthe preference my pretensions were likely to receive in Your Lordship'sconsideration.

"Unquestionably Your Lordship's recollection of what passed betweenMr. —— and yourself must be just; and were it no more than what you saidon the same subject to Lord Howick, I consider it as a mark of attention;but what has astonished me is, that Mr. —— should ever have informedYour Lordship, as he admits he did, that I had no intention of offeringmyself. This naturally must have put from your mind whatever degree ofdisposition was there to have made a preferable application to me; andLord Howick's answer to your question, on which I have ventured to make afriendly remonstrance, must have confirmed Mr. ——'s report. But allow meto suppose that I had myself seen Your Lordship, and that you hadexplicitly promised me the support of Government, and had afterwards sentfor me and informed me that it was at all an object to you that I shouldgive way to Lord Percy, I assure you, with the utmost sincerity, that Ishould cheerfully have withdrawn myself, and applied every interest Ipossessed as your Lordship should have directed.

"All I request is, that what passed between me and Mr. —— may take anintelligible shape before any common friend, or before Your Lordship.This I conceive to be a preliminary due to my own honor, and what heought not to evade."

The Address which he delivered, at the Crown and Anchor Tavern, indeclining the offer of support which many of the electors still pressedupon him, contains some of those touches of personal feeling which abiographer 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 thesedifferences as a departure from the homage which his superior mind,though unclaimed by him, was entitled to, and from the allegiance offriendship which our hearts all swore to him. But never was the genuineand confiding texture of his soul more manifest than on such occasions;he knew that nothing on earth could detach me from him; and he resentedinsinuations against the sincerity and integrity of a friend, which hewould not have noticed had they been pointed against himself. With such aman to have battled in the cause of genuine liberty,—with such a man tohave struggled against the inroads of oppression and corruption,—withsuch an example before me, to have to boast that I never in my life gaveone vote in Parliament that was not on the side of freedom, is thecongratulation that attends the retrospect of my public life. Hisfriendship was the pride and honor of my days. I never, for one moment,regretted to share with him the difficulties, the calumnies, andsometimes even the dangers, that attended an honorable course. And now,reviewing my past political life, were the option possible that I shouldretread the path. I solemnly and deliberately declare that I would preferto pursue the same course; to bear up under the same pressure; to abideby the same principles; and remain by his side an exile from power,distinction, and emolument, rather than be at this moment a splendidexample of successful servility or prosperous apostacy, though clothedwith power, honor, titles, gorged with sinecures, and lord of hoardsobtained from the plunder of the people."

At the conclusion of his Address he thus alludes, with evidently a deepfeeling of discontent, to the circ*mstances that had obliged him todecline 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 officialsituation, and if I retire, I am aware, that minds, as coarse andilliberal, may assign the dread of that as my motive. To suchinsinuations I shall scorn to make any other reply than a reference tothe 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 I abandon his principles toretain one when acquired. If riches do not give independence, thenext-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, totitles, or to honor. Independence is in the mind of a man, or it is nowhere. On this ground were I to decline the contest, should scorn theimputation that should bring the purity of my purpose into doubt. NoMinister can expect to find in me a servile vassal. No Minister canexpect from me the abandonment of any principle I have avowed, or anypledge I have given. I know not that I have hitherto shrunk in place fromopinions I have maintained while in opposition. Did there exist aMinister of a different cast from any I know in being, were he to attemptto exact from me a different conduct, my office should be at his servicetomorrow. Such a Minister might strip me of my situation, in somerespects of considerable emolument, but he could not strip me of theproud conviction that I was right; he could not strip me of my ownself-esteem; he could not strip me, I think, of some portion of theconfidence and good opinion of the people. But I am noticing thecalumnious threat I allude to more than it deserves. There can be noperil, I venture to assert, under the present Government, in the freeexercise of discretion, such as belongs to the present question. Itherefore disclaim the merit of putting anything to hazard. If I havemissed the opportunity of obtaining all the support I might, perhaps,have had on the present occasion, from a very scrupulous delicacy, whichI think became and was incumbent upon me, but which I by no meansconceive to have been a fit rule for others, I cannot repent it. Whilethe slightest aspiration of breath passed those lips, now closed forever,—while one drop of life's blood beat in that heart, now cold forever,—I could not, I ought not, to have acted otherwise than I did.—Inow come with a very embarrassed feeling to that declaration which I yetthink you must have expected from me, but which I make with reluctance,because, from the marked approbation I have experienced from you, I fearthat with reluctance you will receive it.—I feel myself under thenecessity of retiring from this contest."

About three weeks after, ensued the Dissolution of Parliament,—ameasure attended with considerable unpopularity to the Ministry, andoriginating 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 tothe friendship of another. In consequence of this event, Lord Percyhaving declined offering himself again, Mr. Sheridan became a candidatefor Westminster, and after a most riotous contest with a demagogue of themoment, named Paul, was, together with Sir Samuel Hood, declared dulyelected.

The moderate measure in favor of the Roman Catholics, which the Ministrynow 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 himselfof their counsels, and produced one of those bursts of bigotry, by whichthe people of England have so often disgraced themselves. It is sometimesa misfortune to men of wit, that they put their opinions in a form to beremembered. We might, perhaps, have been ignorant of the keen, butworldly view which Mr. Sheridan, on this occasion, took of the hardihoodof his colleagues, if he had not himself expressed it in a form soportable to the memory. "He had often," he said, "heard of peopleknocking out their brains against a wall, but never before knew of anyone building a wall expressly for the purpose."

It must be owned, indeed, that, though far too sagacious and liberal notto be deeply impressed with the justice of the claims advanced by theCatholics, he was not altogether disposed to go those generous lengths intheir favor, of which Mr. Fox and a few others of their less calculatingfriends were capable. It was his avowed opinion, that, though themeasure, whenever brought forward, should be supported and enforced bythe whole weight of the party, they ought never so far to identify orencumber themselves with it, as to make its adoption a sine-qua-non oftheir acceptance or retention of office. His support, too, of theMinistry of Mr. Addington, which was as virtually pledged against theCatholics as that which now succeeded to power, sufficiently shows thesecondary station that this great question occupied in his mind; nor cansuch a deviation from the usual tone of his political feelings beotherwise accounted for, than by supposing that he was aware of theexistence of a strong indisposition to the measure in that quarter, bywhose views and wishes his public conduct was, in most cases, regulated.

On the general question, however, of the misgovernment of Ireland, andthe disabilities of the Catholics, as forming its most prominent feature,his zeal was always forthcoming and ardent,—and never more so thanduring the present Session, when, on the question of the Irish Arms Bill,and his own motion upon the State of Ireland, he distinguished himself byan animation and vigor worthy of the best period of his eloquence.

Mr. Grattan, in supporting the coercive measures now adopted against hiscountry, had shown himself, for once, alarmed into a concurrence with thewretched system of governing by Insurrection Acts, and, for once, lenthis sanction to the principle upon which all such measures are founded,namely, that of enabling Power to defend itself against the consequencesof its own tyranny and injustice. In alluding to some expressions used bythis great man, Sheridan said:—

"He now happened to recollect what was said by a Right HonorableGentleman, to whose opinions they all deferred, (Mr. Grattan,) thatnotwithstanding he voted for the present measure, with all its defects,rather than lose it altogether, yet that gentleman said, that he hoped tosecure the revisionary interest of the Constitution to Ireland. But whenhe saw that the Constitution was suspended from the year 1796 to thepresent period, and that it was now likely to be continued for threeyears longer, the danger was that we might lose the interestaltogether;—when we were mortgaged for such a length of time, at last aforeclosure 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, theynever appear to consider the cause. When they express their surprise thatthe Irish are not contented, while according to their observation, thatpeople have so much reason to be happy, they betray a total ignorance oftheir actual circ*mstances. The fact is, that the tyranny practised uponthe Irish has been throughout unremitting. There has been no change butin the manner of inflicting it. They have had nothing but variety inoppression, extending to all ranks and degrees of a certain descriptionof the people. If you would know what this varied oppression consistedin, I refer you to the Penal Statutes you have repealed, and to some ofthose which still exist. There you will see the high and the low equallysubjected to the lash of persecution; and yet still some persons affectto be astonished at the discontents of the Irish. But with all myreluctance to introduce any thing ludicrous upon so serious an occasion,I cannot help referring to a little story which those very astonishedpersons call to my mind. It was with respect to an Irish drummer, who wasemployed to inflict punishment upon a soldier. When the boy struck high,the poor soldier exclaimed, 'Lower, bless you,' with which the boycomplied. But soon after the soldier exclaimed, 'Higher if you please,'But again he called out, 'A little lower:' upon which the accommodatingboy addressed him—'Now, upon my conscience, I see you are a discontentedman; for, strike where I may, there's no pleasing you.' Now yourcomplaint of the discontents of the Irish appears to me quite asrational, while you continue to strike, only altering the place ofattack."

Upon this speech, which may be considered as the bouquet, or lastparting blaze of his eloquence, he appears to have bestowed considerablecare and thought. The concluding sentences of the following passage,though in his very worst taste, were as anxiously labored by him, and putthrough as many rehearsals on paper, as any of the most highly finishedwitticisms in The School for Scandal.

"I cannot think patiently of such petty squabbles, while Bonaparte isgrasping the nations; while he is surrounding France, not with that ironfrontier, for which the wish and childish ambition of Louis XIV. was soeager, but with kingdoms of his own creation; securing the gratitude ofhigher minds as the hostage, and the fears of others as pledges for hissafety. His are no ordinary fortifications. His martello towers arethrones; sceptres tipt with crowns are the palisadoes of hisentrenchments, and Kings are his sentinels."

The Reporter here, by "tipping" the sceptres "with crowns," has improved,rather unnecessarily, upon the finery of the original. The following arespecimens of the various trials of this passage which I find scribbledover detached scraps of paper:—

"Contrast the different attitudes and occupations of the twogovernments:—B. eighteen months from his capital,—head-quarters in thevillages,—neither Berlin nor Warsaw,—dethroning and creating thrones,—the works he raises are monarchies,—sceptres his palisadoes, thrones hismartello towers."

"Commissioning kings,—erecting thrones,—martello towers,—Cambacerescount 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 againbecame a candidate for the city of Westminster. But, after a violentcontest, during which he stood the coarse abuse of the mob with theutmost good humor and playfulness, the election ended in favor of SirFrancis Burdett and Lord Cochrane, and Sheridan was returned, with hisfriend Mr. Michael Angelo Taylor, for the borough of Ilchester.

In the autumn of 1807 he had conceived some idea of leasing the propertyof Drury-Lane Theatre, and with that view had set on foot, through Mr.Michael Kelly, who was then in Ireland, a negotiation with Mr. FrederickJones, the proprietor of the Dublin Theatre. In explaining his object toMr. Kelly, in a letter dated August 30, 1807, he describes it as "a planby which the property may be leased to those who have the skill and theindustry to manage it as it should be for their own advantage, upon termswhich would render any risk to them almost impossible;—the profit tothem, (he adds,) would probably be beyond what I could now venture tostate, and yet upon terms which would be much better for the realproprietors than any thing that can arise from the careless and ignorantmanner in which the undertaking is now misconducted by those who, my sonexcepted, have no interest in its success, and who lose nothing by itsfailure."

The negotiation with Mr. Jones was continued into the following year;and, according to a draft of agreement, which this gentleman has beenkind enough to show me, in Sheridan's handwriting, it was intended thatMr. Jones should, on becoming proprietor of one quarter-share of theproperty, "undertake the management of the Theatre in conjunction withMr. T. Sheridan, and be entitled to the same remuneration, namely, 1000£.per annum certain income, and a certain per centage on the net profitsarising from the office-receipts, as should be agreed upon," &c. &c.

The following memorandum of a bet connected with this transaction, is ofsomewhat a higher class of wagers than the One Tun Tavern has often hadthe honor of recording among its archives:—

"One Tun, St. James's Market, May 26, 1808."

"In the presence of Messrs. G. Ponsonby, R. Power, and Mr.Becher, [Footnote: It is not without a deep feeling of melancholy that Itranscribe this paper. Of three of my most valued friends,—whose namesare signed to it,—Becher, Ponsonby, and Power,—the last has, within afew short months, been snatched away, leaving behind him the recollectionof as many gentle and manly virtues as ever concurred to give sweetnessand strength to character.] Mr. Jones bets Mr. Sheridan five hundredguineas that he, Mr. Sheridan, does not write, and produce under hisname, a play of five acts, or a first piece of three, within the term ofthree years from the 15th of September next.—It is distinctly to beunderstood that this bet is not valid unless Mr. Jones becomes a partnerin Drury-Lane Theatre before the commencement of the ensuing season.

"Richard Power, "R. B. SHERIDAN,
"George Ponsonby, "FRED. EDW. JONES.
"W. W. Becher.

"N. B.—W. W. Becher and Richard Power join, one fifty,—the other onehundred pounds in this bet.

"R. POWER."

The grand movement of Spain, in the year 1808, which led to consequencesso important to the rest of Europe, though it has left herself asenslaved and priest-ridden as ever, was hailed by Sheridan with all thatprompt and well-timed ardor, with which he alone, of all his party, knewhow to meet such great occasions. Had his political associates butlearned from his example thus to place themselves in advance of theprocession of events, they would not have had the triumphal wheels passby them and over them so frequently. Immediately on the arrival of theDeputies from Spain, he called the attention of the House to the affairsof that country; and his speech on the subject, though short andunstudied, had not only the merit of falling in with the popular feelingat the moment, but, from the views which it pointed out through thebright opening now made by Spain, was every way calculated to be usefulboth at home and abroad.

"Let Spain," he said, "see, that we were not inclined to stint theservices we had it in our power to render her; that we were not actuatedby the desire of any petty advantage to ourselves; but that our exertionswere to be solely directed to the attainment of the grand and generalobject, the emancipation of the world. If the flame were once fairlycaught, our success was certain. France would then find, that she hadhitherto been contending only against principalities, powers, andauthorities, 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 receivership of the Duchyof Cornwall, stood in the way of his reaping the full advantages of thatoffice. Previously to the departure of General Lake for India, the Princehad granted to him the reversion of this situation which was then filledby Lord Elliot. It was afterwards, however, discovered that, according tothe terms of the Grant, the place could not be legally held or deputed byany one who had not been actually sworn into it before the Prince'sCouncil. On the death of Lord Elliot, therefore, His Royal Highnessthought himself authorized, as we have seen, in conferring theappointment upon Mr. Sheridan. This step, however, was considered by thefriends of General Lake as not only a breach of promise, but a violationof right; and it would seem from one of the documents which I am about togive, 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 upontoday. Nothing on earth shall make me risk the possibility of thePrince's goodness to me furnishing an opportunity for a single scurrilousfool's presuming to hint even that he had, in the slightest manner,departed from the slightest engagement. The Prince's right, in point oflaw and justice, on the present occasion to recall the appointment given,I hold to be incontestible; but, believe me, I am right in theproposition I took the liberty of submitting to His Royal Highness, andwhich (so far is he from wishing to hurt General Lake,) he graciouslyapproved. But understand me,—my meaning is to give I up the emolumentsof the situation to General Lake, holding the situation at the Prince'spleasure, and abiding by an arbitrated estimate of General Lake's claim,supposing His Royal Highness had appointed him; in other words, to valuehis interest in the appointment as if he had it, and to pay him for it orresign 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 intentionscan fail, in ten minutes, to arrange it so as to meet the Prince'swishes, and not to leave the shadow of a pretence for envious malignityto whisper a word against his decision.

"Yours ever,

"R. B. SHERIDAN.

"I write in great haste—going to A——."

The other Paper that I shall give, as throwing light on the transaction,is a rough and unfinished sketch by Sheridan of a statement, intended tobe transmitted to General Lake, containing the particulars of bothGrants, and the documents connected with them:—

"DEAR GENERAL,

"I am commanded by the Prince of Wales to transmit to you a correctStatement of a transaction in which your name is so much implicated, andin which his feelings have been greatly wounded from a quarter, I amcommanded to say, whence he did not expect such conduct.

"As I am directed to communicate the particulars in the most authenticform, you will, I am sure, excuse on this occasion my not adopting themode of a familiar letter.

"Authentic Statement respecting the Appointment by His Royal 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, Commander-in-Chief of the Forces in India.

"The circ*mstances attending the original reversionary Grant to GeneralLake are stated in the brief for Counsel on this occasion by Mr. Bignell,the Prince's solicitor, to be as follow: (No. I.) It was afterwardsunderstood by the Prince that the service he had wished to render GeneralLake, by this Grant, had been defeated by the terms of it; and so clearlyhad it been shown that there were essential duties attached to theoffice, which no Deputy was competent to execute, and that a Deputy, evenfor the collection of the rents, could not be appointed but by aprincipal actually in possession of the office, (by having been sworninto it before his Council,) that upon General appointment to the commandin India, the Prince could have no conception that General Lake, couldhave left the country under an impression or expectation that the Princewould 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 ofLord Elliot, unsolicited, and of his own gracious suggestion, appointedMr. Sheridan. Mr. Sheridan returned, the next day, in a letter to thePrince, such an answer and acknowledgment as might be expected from him;and, accordingly, directions were given to make out his patent. On theensuing —— His Royal Highness was greatly surprised at receiving thefollowing 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 circ*mstanced; and forfurther distinctness to make a minute in writing * * * *."

Such were the circ*mstances that had, at first, embarrassed his enjoymentof this office; but, on the death of Lord Lake, all difficulties wereremoved, and the appointment was confirmed to Sheridan for his life.

In order to afford some insight into the nature of that friendship, whichexisted so long between the Heir Apparent and Sheridan,—though unable,of course, to produce any of the numerous letters, on the Royal side ofthe correspondence, that have been found among the papers in mypossession,—I shall here give, from a rough copy in Sheridan'shand-writing, a letter which he addressed about this time to the Prince:—

"It is matter of surprise to myself, as well as of deep regret, that Ishould have incurred the appearance of ungrateful neglect and disrespecttowards the person to whom I am most obliged on earth, to whom I feel themost ardent, dutiful, and affectionate attachment, and in whose service Iwould readily sacrifice my life. Yet so it is, and to nothing but aperverse combination of circ*mstances, which would form no excuse were Ito recapitulate them, can I attribute a conduct so strange on my part;and from nothing but Your Royal Highness's kindness and benignity alonecan I expect an indulgent allowance and oblivion of that conduct: norcould I even hope for this were I not conscious of the unabated andunalterable devotion towards Your Royal Highness which lives in my heart,and will ever continue to be its pride and boast.

"But I should ill deserve the indulgence I request did I not franklystate what has passed in my mind, which, though it cannot justify, may,in some degree, extenuate what must have appeared so strange to YourRoyal Highness, previous to Your Royal Highness's having actuallyrestored me to the office I had resigned.

"I was mortified and hurt in the keenest manner by having repeated to mefrom an authority which I then trusted, some expressions of YourRoyal Highness respecting me, which it was impossible I could havedeserved. Though I was most solemnly pledged never to reveal the sourcefrom which the communication came, I for some time intended to unburthenmy mind to my sincere friend and Your Royal Highness's most attached andexcellent servant, M'Mahon—but I suddenly discovered, beyond a doubt,that I had been grossly deceived, and that there had not existed theslightest foundation for the tale that had been imposed on me; and I dohumbly ask Your Royal Highness's pardon for having for a moment crediteda fiction suggested by mischief and I malice. Yet, extraordinary as itmust seem, I had so long, under this false impression, neglected thecourse which duty and gratitude required from me, that I felt anunaccountable shyness and reserve in repairing my error, and to thisprocrastination other unlucky circ*mstances contributed. One day when Ihad the honor of meeting Your Royal Highness on horseback inOxford-Street, though your manner was as usual gracious and kind to me,you said that I had deserted you privately and politically. I hadlong before that been assured, though falsely I am convinced, that YourRoyal Highness had promised to make a point that I should neither speaknor vote on Lord Wellesly's business. My view of this topic, and myknowledge of the delicate situation in which Your Royal Highness stood inrespect to the Catholic question, though weak and inadequate motives, Iconfess, yet encouraged the continuance of that reserve which my originalerror had commenced. These subjects being passed by,—and sure I am YourRoyal Highness would never deliberately ask me to adopt a course ofdebasing inconsistency,—it was my hope fully and frankly to haveexplained myself and repaired my fault, when I was informed that acirc*mstance that happened at Burlington-House, and which must have beenheinously misrepresented, had greatly offended you; and soon after it wasstated to me, by an authority which I have no objection to disclose, thatYour Royal Highness had quoted, with marked disapprobation, wordssupposed to have been spoken by me on the Spanish question, and of whichwords, 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 notsooner stated these circ*mstances, and confided in that uniformfriendship and protection which I have so long experienced at your hands.I can only plead a nervous, procrastinating nature, abetted, perhaps, bysensations of, I trust, no false pride, which, however I may blamemyself, impel me involuntarily to fly from the risk of even a cold lookfrom the quarter to which I owe so much, and by whom to be esteemed isthe glory and consolation of my private and public life.

"One point only remains for me to intrude upon Your Royal Highness'sconsideration, but it is of a nature fit only for personal communication.I therefore conclude, with again entreating Your Royal Highness tocontinue and extend the indulgence which the imperfections in mycharacter have so often received from you, and yet to be assured thatthere never did exist to Monarch, Prince, or man, a firmer or purerattachment than I feel, and to my death shall feel, to you, my graciousPrince and Master."

CHAPTER X.

DESTRUCTION OF THE THEATRE OF DRURY-LANE BY FIRE.—MR. WHITBREAD.—PLANFOR A THIRD THEATRE.—ILLNESS OF THE KING.—REGENCY. LORD OBEY AND LORDGRENVILLE.—CONDUCT OF MR. SHERIDAN.—HIS VINDICATION OF HIMSELF.

With the details of the embarrassments of Drury-Lane Theatre, I haveendeavored, as little as possible, to encumber the attention of thereader. This part of my subject would, indeed, require a volume toitself. The successive partnerships entered into with Mr. Grubb and Mr.Richardson,—the different Trust-deeds for the general and individualproperty,—the various creations of shares,—the controversies betweenthe Trustees and Proprietors, as to the obligations of the Deed of 1793,which ended in a Chancery-suit in 1799,—the perpetual entanglements ofthe property which Sheridan's private debts occasioned, and which eventhe friendship and skill of Mr. Adam were wearied out in endeavoring torectify,—all this would lead to such a mass of details andcorrespondence as, though I have waded through it myself, it is by nomeans necessary to inflict upon others.

The great source of the involvements, both of Sheridan himself and of theconcern, is to be found in the enormous excess of the expense ofrebuilding the Theatre in 1793, over the amount stated by the architectin his estimate. This amount was 75,000_l_.; and the sum of150,000£. then raised by subscription, would, it was calculated, inaddition to defraying this charge, pay off also the mortgage-debts withwhich the Theatre was encumbered. It was soon found, however, that theexpense of building the House alone would exceed the whole amount raisedby subscription; and, notwithstanding the advance of a considerable sumbeyond the estimate, the Theatre was delivered in n very unfinished stateinto the hands of the proprietors,—only part of the mortgage-debts waspaid 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 ofit being at various times enforced, not only against the theatre, butagainst the private property of Mr. Sheridan, involved both in a degreeof embarrassment from which there appeared no hope of extricating them.

Such was the state of this luckless property,—and it would have beendifficult to imagine any change for the worse that could befallit,—when, early in the present year, an event occurred, that seemed tofill up at once the measure of its ruin. On the night of the 24th ofFebruary, while the House of Commons was occupied with Mr. Ponsonby'smotion on the Conduct of the War in Spain, and Mr. Sheridan was inattendance, with the intention, no doubt, of speaking, the House wassuddenly illuminated by a blaze of light; and, the Debate beinginterrupted, it was ascertained that the Theatre of Drury-Lane was onfire. A motion was made to adjourn; but Mr. Sheridan said with muchcalmness, that "whatever might be the extent of the private calamity, hehoped it would not interfere with the public business of the country." Hethen left the House; and, proceeding to Drury-Lane, witnessed, with afortitude which strongly interested all who observed him, the entiredestruction of his property. [Footnote: It is said that, as he sat at thePiazza Coffee-house, during the fire, taking some refreshment, a friendof his having remarked on the philosophic calmness with which he bore hismisfortune, Sheridan answered, "A man may surely be allowed to take aglass of wine by his own fire-side."

Without vouching for the authenticity or novelty of this anecdote, (whichmay have been, for aught I know, like the wandering Jew, a regularattendant upon all fires, since the time of Hierocles,) I give it as Iheard it.]

Among his losses on the occasion there was one which, from beingassociated with feelings of other times, may have affected him, perhaps,more deeply than many that were far more serious. A harpsichord, that hadbelonged to his first wife, and had long survived her sweet voice insilent widowhood, was, with other articles of furniture that had beenmoved 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 wereknown to have been so great, and such a swarm of litigious claims layslumbering under those ashes, that it is not surprising the public shouldhave been slow and unwilling to touch them. Nothing, indeed, short of theintrepid zeal of Mr. Whitbread could have ventured upon the task ofremedying so complex a calamity; nor could any industry less perseveringhave compassed the miracle of rebuilding and re-animating that edifice,among the many-tongued claims that beset and perplexed his enterprise.

In the following interesting letter to him from Sheridan, we trace thefirst steps of his friendly interference on the occasion:—

"MY DEAR WHITHBREAD,

"Procrastination is always the consequence of an indolent man's resolvingto write a long detailed letter, upon any subject, however important tohimself, or whatever may be the confidence he has in the friend heproposes to write to. To this must be attributed your having escaped thestatement I threatened you with in my last letter, and the brevity withwhich I now propose to call your attention to the serious, and, to me,most important request, contained in this,—reserving all I meant to havewritten for personal communication.

"I pay you no compliment when I say that, without comparison, you are theman living, in my estimation, the most disposed and the most competent tobestow a portion of your time and ability to assist the call offriendship,—on the condition that that call shall be proved to be madein a cause just and honorable, and in every respect entitled to yourprotection.

"On this ground alone I make my application to you. You said, some timesince, in my house, but in a careless conversation only, that you wouldbe a Member of a Committee for rebuilding Drury-Lane Theatre, if it wouldserve me; and, indeed, you very kindly suggested, yourself, that thesewere more persons disposed to assist that object than I might be awareof. I most thankfully accept the offer of your interference, and amconvinced of the benefits your friendly exertions are competent toproduce. I have worked the whole subject in my own mind, and see a clearway to retrieve a great property, at least to my son and his family, ifmy plan meets the support I hope it will appear to merit.

"Writing thus to you in the sincerity of private friendship, and thereliance 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 incriticising my palpable neglect of all parliamentary duty. It would notbe easy to explain to you, or even to make you comprehend, or any one inprosperous and affluent plight, the private difficulties I have tostruggle with. My mind, and the resolute independence belonging to it,has not been in the least subdued by the late calamity; but theconsequences arising from it have more engaged and embarrassed me than,perhaps, I have been willing to allow. It has been a principle of mylife, persevered in through great difficulties, never to borrow money ofa private friend and this resolution I would starve rather than violate.Of course, I except the political aid of election-subscription. When Iask you to take a part in the settlement of my shattered affairs, I askyou only to do so after a previous investigation of every part of thepast circ*mstances which relate to the trust I wish you to accept, inconjunction with those who wish to serve me, and to whom I think youcould not object. I may be again seized with an illness as alarming asthat I lately experienced. Assist me in relieving my mind from thegreatest affliction that such a situation can again produce,—the fear ofothers 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 nottrouble you for a written reply."

Encouraged by the opening which the destruction of Drury-Lane seemed tooffer to free adventure in theatrical property, a project was set on footfor the establishment of a Third Great Theatre, which, being backed bymuch of the influence and wealth of the city of London, for some timethreatened destruction to the monopoly that had existed so long. But, bythe exertions of Mr. Sheridan and his friends, this scheme was defeated,and a Bill for the erection of Drury-Lane Theatre by subscription, andfor 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 other two, appears notonly from his speeches and petitions on the subject at this time, butfrom the following Plan for such an establishment, drawn up by him, someyears before, and intended to be submitted to the consideration of theProprietors of both Houses:—

"GENTLEMEN,

"According to your desire, the plan of the proposed Assistant Theatre, ishere explained in writing for your further consideration.

"From our situations in the Theatres Royal of Drury-Lane andCovent-Garden we have had opportunities of observing many circ*mstancesrelative to our general property, which must have escaped those who donot materially interfere in the management of that property. One point inparticular has lately weighed extremely in our opinions, which is, anapprehension of a new Theatre being erected for some species or other ofdramatic entertainment. Were this event to take place on an opposinginterest, our property would sink in value one-half, and in allprobability, the contest that would ensue would speedily end in theabsolute ruin of one of the present established Theatres. We have reason,it is true, from His Majesty's gracious patronage to the present Houses,to hope, that a Third patent for a winter Theatre is not easily to beobtained; but the motives which appear to call for one are so many, (andthose of such a nature, as to increase every day,) that we cannot, on thematurest consideration of the subject, divest ourselves of the dread thatsuch an event may not be very remote. With this apprehension before us,we have naturally fallen into a joint consideration of the means ofpreventing so fatal a blow to the present Theatres, or of deriving ageneral advantage from a circ*mstance which might otherwise be our ruin.

"Some of the leading motives for the establishment of a Third Theatre areas follows:—

"1st. The great extent of the town and increased residence of a higherclass of people, who, on account of many circ*mstances, seldom frequentthe Theatre.

"2d. The distant situation of the Theatres from the politer streets, andthe difficulty with which ladies reach their carriages or chairs.

"3d. The small number of side-boxes, where only, by the uncontrollableinfluence of fashion, ladies of any rank can be induced to sit.

"4th. The earliness of the hour, which renders it absolutely impossiblefor those who attend on Parliament, live at any distance, or, indeed, forany person who dines at the prevailing hour, to reach the Theatre beforethe performance is half over.

"These considerations have lately been strongly urged to me by manyleading persons of rank. There has also prevailed, as appears by thenumber of private plays at gentlemen's seats, an unusual fashion fortheatrical entertainments among the politer class of people; and it isnot to be wondered at that they, feeling themselves, (from the causesabove enumerated,) in a manner, excluded from our Theatres, shouldpersevere in an endeavor 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, andthat is the well-known circ*mstance of a subscription having actuallybeen begun last winter, with very powerful patronage, for the importationof a French company of comedians, a scheme which, though it might nothave answered to the undertaking, would certainly have been thefoundation of other entertainments, whose opposition we should speedilyhave experienced. The question, then, upon a full view of our situation,appears to be, whether the Proprietors of the present Theatres willcontentedly wait till some other person takes advantage of the prevailingwish for a Third Theatre, or, having the remedy in their power, profit bya turn of fashion which they cannot control.

"A full conviction that the latter is the only line of conduct which cangive security to the Patents of Drury-Lane and Covent-Garden Theatres,and yield a probability of future advantage in the exercise of them, hasprompted us to endeavor at modelling this plan, on which we conceivethose Theatres may unite in the support of a Third, to the general andmutual advantage of all the Proprietors.

"PROPOSALS.

"The Proprietors of the Theatre-Royal in Covent-Garden appear to bepossessed of two Patents, for the privilege of acting plays, &c., underone of which the above-mentioned Theatre is opened,—the other lyingdormant and useless;—it is proposed that this dormant Patent shall beexercised, (with His Majesty's approbation,) in order to license thedramatic performance of the new Theatre to be erected.

"It is proposed that the performances of this new Theatre shall besupported from the united establishments of the two present Theatres, sothat the unemployed part of each company may exert themselves for theadvantage of the whole.

"As the object of this Assistant Theatre will be to reimburse theProprietors of the other two, at the full season, for the expensiveestablishment they are obliged to maintain when the town is almost empty,it is proposed, that the scheme of business to be adopted in the newTheatre shall differ as much as possible from that of the other two, andthat the performances at the new house shall be exhibited at a superiorprice, and shall commence at a later hour.

"The Proposers will undertake to provide a Theatre for the purpose, in aproper situation, and on the following terms:—If they engage a Theatreto be built, being the property of the builder or builders, it must befor an agreed on rent, with security for a term of years. In this casethe Proprietors of the two present Theatres shall jointly and severallyengage in the whole of the risk; and the Proposers are ready, onequitable terms, to undertake the management of it. But, if the Proposersfind themselves enabled, either on their own credit, or by the assistanceof their friends, or on a plan of subscription, the mode being devised,and the security given by themselves, to become the builders of theTheatre, the interest in the building will, in that case, be the propertyof the Proposers, and they will undertake to demand no rent for theperformances therein to be exhibited for the mutual advantage of the twopresent Theatres.

"The Proposers will, in this case, conducting the business under thedormant Patent above mentioned, bind themselves, that no theatricalentertainments, as plays, farces, pantomimes, or English operas, shall atany time be exhibited in this Theatre but for the general advantage ofthe Proprietors of the two other Theatres; the Proposers reserving tothemselves any profit they can make of their building, converted topurposes distinct from the business of the Theatres.

"The Proposers, undertaking the management of the new Theatre, shall beentitled to a sum to be settled by the Proprietors at large, or by anequitable arbitration.

"It is proposed, that all the Proprietors of the two present TheatresRoyal of Drury-Lane and Covent-Garden shall share all profits from thedramatic entertainments exhibited at the new Theatre; that is, each shallbe entitled to receive a dividend in proportion to the shares he or shepossesses of the present Theatres: first only deducting a certain nightlysum to be paid to the Proprietors of Covent-Garden Theatre, as aconsideration for the license furnished by the exercise of their presentdormant Patent.

"'Fore Heaven! the Plan's a good Plan! I shall add a little Epilogueto-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 Grenville, asChancellor of Oxford, took place, and Mr. Sheridan was among thedistinguished persons that attended the ceremony. As a number of honorarydegrees were to be conferred on the occasion, it was expected, as amatter of course, that his name would be among those selected for thatdistinction; and, to the honor of the University, it was the general wishamong its leading members that such a tribute should be paid to his highpolitical character. On the proposal of his name, however, (in a privatemeeting, I believe, held previously to the Convocation.) the words"Non placet" were heard from two scholars, one of whom, it issaid, had no nobler motive for his opposition than that Sheridan did notpay his father's tithes very regularly. Several efforts were made to winover these dissentients; and the Rev. Mr. Ingram delivered an able andliberal Latin speech, in which he indignantly represented the shame thatit would bring on the University, if such a name as that of Sheridanshould be "clam subductum" from the list. The two scholars,however, were immovable; and nothing remained but to give Sheridanintimation of their intended opposition, so as to enable him to declinethe honor of having his name proposed. On his appearance, afterwards, inthe Theatre, a burst of acclamation broke forth, with a general cry of"Mr. Sheridan among the Doctors,—Sheridan among the Doctors;" incompliance with which he was passed to the seat occupied by the HonoraryGraduates, and sat, in unrobed distinction, among them, during the wholeof the ceremonial. Few occurrences, of a public nature, ever gave himmore pleasure than this reception.

At the close of the year 1810, the malady, with which the king had beenthrice before afflicted, returned; and, after the usual adjournments ofParliament, it was found necessary to establish a Regency. On thequestion of the second adjournment, Mr. Sheridan took a line directlyopposed to that of his party, and voted with the majority. That in thisstep he did not act from any previous concert with the Prince, appearsfrom the following letter, addressed by him to His Royal Highness on thesubject, and containing particulars which will prepare the mind of thereader to judge more clearly of the events that followed:—

"SIR,

"I felt infinite satisfaction when I was apprised that Your RoyalHighness had been far from disapproving the line of conduct I hadpresumed to pursue, on the last question of adjournment in the House ofCommons. Indeed, I never had a moment's doubt but that Your RoyalHighness would give me credit that I was actuated on that, as I shall onevery other occasion through my existence, by no possible motive but themost sincere and unmixed desire to look to Your Royal Highness's honorand true interest, as the objects of my political life,—directed, as Iam sure your efforts will ever be, to the essential interests of theCountry and the Constitution. To this line of conduct I am prompted byevery motive of personal gratitude, and confirmed by every opportunity,which peculiar circ*mstances and long experience have afforded me, ofjudging of your heart and understanding,—to the superior excellence ofwhich, (beyond all, I believe, that ever stood in your rank and highrelation to society,) I fear not to advance my humble testimony, becauseI scruple not to say for myself, that I am no flatterer, and that I neverfound that to become one was the road to your real regard.

"I state thus much because it has been under the influence of thesefeelings that I have not felt myself warranted, (without any previouscommunication with Your Royal Highness,) to follow implicitly thedictates of others, in whom, however they may be my superiors in manyqualities, I can subscribe to no superiority as to devoted attachment andduteous affection to Your Royal Highness, or in that practical knowledgeof the public mind and character, upon which alone must be built thatpopular and personal estimation of Your Royal Highness, so necessary toyour future happiness and glory, and to the prosperity of the nation youare destined to rule over.

"On these grounds, I saw no policy or consistency in unnecessarily givinga general sanction to the examination of the physicians before theCouncil, and then attempting, on the question of adjournment, to holdthat examination as naught. On these grounds, I have ventured to doubtthe wisdom or propriety of any endeavor, (if any such endeavor has beenmade,) to induce Your Royal Highness, during so critical a moment, tostir an inch from the strong reserved post you have chosen, or give theslightest public demonstration of any future intended politicalpreferences;—convinced as I was that the rule of conduct you hadprescribed to yourself was precisely that which was gaining you thegeneral heart, and rendering it impracticable for any quarter to succeedin annexing unworthy conditions to that most difficult situation, whichyou were probably so soon to be called on to accept.

"I may, Sir, have been guilty of error of judgment in both theserespects, differing, as I fear I have done, from those whom I am bound sohighly to respect; but, at the same time, I deem it no presumption to saythat, until better instructed, I feel a strong confidence in the justnessof my own view of the subject; and simply because of this—I am sure thatthe decisions of that judgment, be they sound or mistaken, have not, atleast, been rashly taken up, but were founded on deliberate zeal for yourservice and glory, unmixed, I will confidently say, with any one selfishobject 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 didthe Opposition differ otherwise from their former line of argument, thanby omitting altogether that claim of Right for the Prince, which Mr. Foxhad, in the proceedings of 1789, asserted. The event that ensued issufficiently well known. To the surprise of the public, (who expected,perhaps, rather than wished, that the Coalesced Party of which Lord Greyand Lord Grenville were the chiefs, should now succeed to power,) Mr.Perceval and his colleagues were informed by the Regent that it was theintention of His Royal Highness to continue them still in office.

The share taken by Mr. Sheridan in the transactions that led to thisdecision, is one of those passages of his political life upon which thecriticism of his own party has been most severely exercised, and into thedetails of which I feel most difficulty in entering:—because, howevercurious it may be to penetrate into these "postscenia" of publiclife, it seems hardly delicate, while so many of the chief actors arestill upon the stage. As there exists, however, a Paper drawn up by Mr.Sheridan, containing what he considered a satisfactory defence of hisconduct on this occasion, I should ill discharge my duty towards hismemory, were I, from any scruples or predilections of my own, to deprivehim of the advantage of a, statement, on which he appears to have reliedso confidently for his vindication.

But, first,—in order fully to understand the whole course of feelingsand circ*mstances, by which not only Sheridan, but his Royal Master, (fortheir cause is, in a great degree, identified,) were for some time past,predisposed towards the line of conduct which they now pursued,—it willbe necessary to recur to a few antecedent events.

By the death of Mr. Fox the chief personal tie that connected theHeir-Apparent with the party of that statesman was broken. The politicalidentity of the party itself had, even before that event, been, in agreat degree, disturbed by a coalition against which Sheridan had alwaysmost strongly protested, and to which the Prince, there is every reasonto believe, was by no means friendly. Immediately after the death of Mr.Fox, His Royal Highness made known his intentions of withdrawing from allpersonal interference in politics; and, though still continuing hissanction to the remaining Ministry, expressed himself as no longerdesirous of being considered "a party man." [Footnote: This is the phraseused by the Prince himself, in a Letter addressed to a Noble Lord,(notlong after the dismissal of the Grenville Ministry,) for the purpose ofvindicating his own character from some imputations cast upon it, inconsequence of an interview which he had lately had with the King. Thisimportant exposition of the feelings of His Royal Highness, which, morethan any thing, throws light upon his subsequent conduct, was drawn up bySheridan; and I had hoped that I should have been able to lay it beforethe reader:—but the liberty of perusing the Letter is all that has beenallowed me.] During the short time that these Ministers continued inoffice, the understanding between them and the Prince was by no means ofthat cordial and confidential kind, which had been invariably maintainedduring the life-time of Mr. Fox. On the contrary, the impression on themind, of His Royal Highness, us well as on those of his immediate friendsin the Ministry, Lord Moira and Mr. Sheridan, was, that a cold neglecthad succeeded to the confidence with which they had hitherto beentreated; and that, neither in their opinions nor feelings, were they anylonger sufficiently consulted or considered. The very measure, by whichthe Ministers ultimately lost their places, was, it appears, one of thosewhich the Illustrious Personage in question neither conceived himself tohave been sufficiently consulted upon before its adoption, nor approvedof afterwards.

Such were the gradual loosenings of a bond, which at no time had promisedmuch permanence; and such the train of feelings and circ*mstances which,(combining with certain prejudices in the Royal mind against one of thechief leaders of the party,) prepared the way for that result by whichthe Public was surprised in 1811, and the private details of which Ishall now, as briefly as possible, relate.

As soon as the Bill for regulating the office of Regent had passed thetwo Houses, the Prince, who, till then, had maintained a strict reservewith respect to his intentions, signified, through Mr. Adam, his pleasurethat Lord Grenville should wait upon him. He then, in the most graciousmanner, expressed to that Noble Lord his wish that he should, inconjunction with Lord Grey, prepare the Answer which his Royal Highnesswas, in a few days, to return to the Address of the Houses. The sameconfidential task was entrusted also to Lord Moira, with an expresseddesire that he should consult with Lord Grey and Lord Grenville on thesubject. But this co-operation, as I understand, the two Noble Lordsdeclined.

One of the embarrassing consequences of Coalitions now appeared. Therecorded opinions of Lord Grenville on the Regency Question differedwholly and in principle not only from those of his coadjutor in thistask, but from those of the Royal person himself, whose sentiments he wascalled upon to interpret. In this difficulty, the only alternative thatremained was so to neutralize the terms of the Answer upon the greatpoint of difference, as to preserve the consistency of the Royal speaker,without at the same time compromising that of his Noble adviser. Itrequired, of course, no small art and delicacy thus to throw into theshade that distinctive opinion of Whigism, which Burke had clothed in hisimperishable language in 1789, and which Fox had solemnly bequeathed tothe Party, when

"in his upward flight
He left his mantle there."
[Footnote: Joanna Baithe]

The Answer, drawn up by the Noble Lords, did not, it must be confessed,surmount this difficulty very skilfully. The assertion of the Prince'sconsistency was confined to two meagre sentences, in the first of whichHis Royal Highness was made to say:—"With respect to the proposedlimitation of the authority to be entrusted to me, I retain my formeropinion:"—and in the other, the expression of any decided opinion uponthe Constitutional point is thus evaded:—"For such a purpose norestraint can be necessary to be imposed upon me." Somewhat less vagueand evasive, however, was the justification of the opinion opposed tothat of the Prince, in the following sentence:—"That day when I mayrestore to the King those powers, which as belonging only to him,[Footnote: The words which I have put in italics in these quotations,are, in the same manner, underlined in Sheridan's copy of thePaper,—doubtless, from a similar view of their import to that which Ihave taken.] are in his name and in his behalf," &c. &c. This, it will berecollected, is precisely the doctrine which, on the great question oflimiting the Prerogative, Mr. Fox attributed to the Tories. In anotherpassage, the Whig opinion of the Prince was thus tamelysurrendered:—"Conscious that, whatever degree of confidence youmay think fit to repose in me," &c. [Footnote: On the back ofSheridan's own copy of this Answer, I find, written by him, the followingwords "Grenville's and Grey's proposed Answer from the Prince to theAddress of the two Houses,—very flimsy, and attempting to coverGrenville's conduct and consistency in supporting the presentRestrictions at the expense of the Prince."] The Answer, thusconstructed, was, by the two Noble Lords, transmitted through Mr. Adam,to the Prince, who, "strongly objecting, (as we are told), to almostevery part of it," acceded to the suggestion of Sheridan, whom heconsulted on the subject, that a new form of Answer should be immediatelysketched out, and submitted to the consideration of Lord Grey and LordGrenville. There was no time to be lost, as the Address of the Houses wasto be received the following day. Accordingly, Mr. Adam and Mr. Sheridanproceeded that night, with the new draft of the Answer to Holland-House,where, after a warm discussion upon the subject with Lord Grey, whichended unsatisfactorily to both parties, the final result was that theAnswer drawn up by the Prince and Sheridan was adopted.—Such is the bareoutline of this transaction, the circ*mstances of which will be foundfully detailed in the Statement that shall presently be given.

The accusation against Sheridan is, that chiefly to his undermininginfluence the view taken by the Prince of the Paper of these Noble Lordsis to be attributed; and that not only was he censurable in aconstitutional point of view, for thus interfering between the Sovereignand his responsible advisers, but that he had been also guilty of an actof private perfidy, in endeavoring to represent the Answer drawn up bythese Noble Lords, as an attempt to sacrifice the consistency and dignityof their Royal Master to the compromise of opinions and principles whichthey had entered into themselves.

Under the impression that such were the nature and motives of hisinterference, Lord Grey and Lord Grenville, on the 11th of January, (theday on which the Answer substituted for their own was delivered),presented a joint Representation to the Regent, in which they stated that"the circ*mstances which had occurred, respecting His Royal Highness'sAnswer to the two Houses, had induced them, most humbly, to solicitpermission 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 andinviolable attachment. When His Royal Highness, (they continued), didLord Grenville the honor, through Mr. Adam, to command his attendance, itwas distinctly expressed to him, that His Royal Highness had condescendedto select him, in conjunction with Lord Grey, to be consulted with, asthe public and responsible advisers of that Answer; and Lord Grenvillecould never forget the gracious terms in which His Royal Highness had thegoodness to lay these his orders upon him. It was also on the samegrounds of public and responsible advice, that Lord Grey, honored inlike manner by the most gracious expression of His Royal Highness'sconfidence on this subject, applied himself to the consideration of itconjointly with Lord Grenville. They could not but feel the difficulty ofthe undertaking, which required them to reconcile two objects essentiallydifferent,—to uphold and distinctly to manifest that unshaken adherenceto His Royal Highness's past and present opinion, which consistency andhonor required, but to conciliate, at the same time, the feelings of thetwo Houses, by expressions of confidence and affection, and to lay thefoundation of that good understanding between His Royal Highness and theParliament, the establishment of which must be the first wish of everyman who is truly attached to His Royal Highness, and who knows the valueof the Constitution of his country. Lord Grey and Lord Grenville were farfrom the presumption of believing that their humble endeavors for theexecution of so difficult a task might not be susceptible of many andgreat amendments.

"The draft, (their Lordships said), which they humbly submitted to HisRoyal Highness was considered by them as open to every remark which mightoccur to His Royal Highness's better judgment. On every occasion, butmore especially in the preparation of His Royal Highness's first act ofgovernment, it would have been no less their desire than their duty tohave profited by all such objections, and to have labored to accomplish,in the best manner they were able, every command which His Royal Highnessmight have been pleased to lay upon them. Upon the objects to be obtainedthere could be no difference of sentiment. These, such as abovedescribed, were, they confidently believed, not less important in HisRoyal Highness's view of the subject than in that which they themselveshad ventured to express. But they would be wanting in that sincerity andopenness by which they could alone hope, however imperfectly, to make anyreturn to that gracious confidence with which His Royal Highness hadcondescended to honor them, if they suppressed the expression of theirdeep concern, in finding that their humble endeavors in His RoyalHighness's service had been submitted to the judgment of another person,by whose advice His Royal Highness had been guided in his final decision,on a matter on which they alone had, however unworthily, been honoredwith His Royal Highness's commands. It was their most sincere and ardentwish that, in the arduous station which His Royal Highness was about tofill, he might have the benefit of the public advice and responsibleservices of those men, whoever they might be, by whom His RoyalHighness's glory and the interests of the country could best be promoted.It would be with unfeigned distrust of their own means of dischargingsuch duties that they could, in any case, venture to undertake them; and,in this humble but respectful representation which they had presumed tomake of their feelings on this occasion, they were conscious of beingactuated not less by their dutiful and grateful attachment to His RoyalHighness, than by those principles of constitutional responsibility, themaintenance of which they deemed essential to any hope of a successfuladministration of the public interests."

On receiving this Representation, in which, it must be confessed, therewas more of high spirit and dignity than of worldly wisdom, [Footnote: Tothe pure and dignified character of the Noble Whig associated in thisRemonstrance, it is unnecessary for me to say how heartily I beartestimony. The only fault, indeed, of this distinguished person is, thatknowing but one high course of conduct for himself, he impatientlyresents any sinking from that pitch in others. Then, only, in his truestation, when placed between the People and the Crown, as one of thosefortresses that ornament and defend the frontier of Democracy, he hasshown that he can but ill suit the dimensions of his spirit to the narrowavenues of a Court, or, like that Pope who stooped to look for the keysof St. Peter, accommodate his natural elevation to the pursuit ofofficial power. All the pliancy of his nature is, indeed, reserved forprivate life, where the repose of the valley succeeds to the grandeur ofthe mountain, and where the lofty statesman gracefully subsides into thegentle husband and father, and the frank, social friend. The eloquence ofLord Grey, more than that of any other person, brings to mind whatQuintilian says of the great and noble orator, Messala:—"Quodammodoprae se ferens in dicendo nobilitatem suam."] His Royal Highness lostno time in communicating it to Sheridan, who, proud of the influenceattributed to him by the Noble writers, and now more than ever stimulatedto make them feel its weight, employed the whole force of his shrewdnessand ridicule [Footnote: He called rhymes also to his aid, as appears bythe following:—

"An Address to the Prince, 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 down
His Father's dignity and Crown,
We'll make him, in some time to come,
The greatest Prince in Christendom."] in exposing the stately tone of
dictation which, according to his view, was assumed throughout this Paper,
and in picturing to the Prince the state of tutelage he might expect under
Ministers who began thus early with their lectures. Such suggestions, even
if less ably urged, were but too sure of a willing audience in the ears to
which they were adressed. 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, January 15, 1811.

"DEAR HOLLAND,

"As you have been already apprised by His Royal Highness the Prince thathe thought it becoming the frankness of his character, and consistentwith the fairness and openness of proceeding due to any of his servantswhose conduct appears to have incurred the disapprobation of Lord Greyand Lord Grenville, to communicate their representations on the subjectto the person so censured, I am confident you will give me credit for thepain I must have felt, to find myself an object of suspicion, or likely,in the slightest degree, to become the cause of any temporarymisunderstanding between His Royal Highness amid those distinguishedcharacters, whom His Royal Highness appears to destine to thoseresponsible situations, which must in all public matters entitle them tohis exclusive confidence.

"I shall as briefly as I can state the circ*mstances of the fact, sodistinctly referred to in the following passage of the Noble Lord'sRepresentation:—

"'But they would be wanting in that sincerity and openness by which theycan alone hope, however imperfectly, to make any return to that graciousconfidence with which Your Royal Highness has condescended to honor them,if they suppressed the expression of their deep concern in finding thattheir humble endeavors in Your Royal Highness's service have beensubmitted to the judgment of another person, by whose advice YourRoyal Highness has been guided in your final decision on a matter inwhich they alone had, however unworthily, been honored with Your RoyalHighness's commands.'

"I must premise, that from my first intercourse with the Prince duringthe present distressing emergency, such conversations as he may havehonored me with have been communications of resolutions already formed onhis part, and not of matter referred to consultation or submitted toadvice. I know that my declining to vote for the furtheradjournment of the Privy Council's examination of the physicians gaveoffence to some, and was considered as a difference from the party I asrightly esteemed to belong to. The intentions of the leaders of the partyupon that question were in no way distinctly known to me; my secessionwas entirely my own act, and not only unauthorized, but perhapsunexpected by the Prince. My motives for it I took the liberty ofcommunicating to His Royal Highness by letter, [Footnote: This Letter hasbeen given in page 268.] the next day, and, previously to that, I had noteven seen His Royal Highness since the confirmation of His Majesty'smalady.

"If I differed from those who, equally attached to His Royal Highness'sinterest and honor, thought that His Royal Highness should have taken thestep which, in my humble opinion, he has since, precisely at the properperiod, taken of sending to Lord Grenville and Lord Grey, I may certainlyhave erred in forming an imperfect judgment on the occasion, but, indoing so, I meant no disrespect to those who had taken a different viewof the subject. But, with all deference, I cannot avoid adding, thatexperience of the impression made on the public mind by the reserved andretired conduct which the Prince thought proper to adopt, has not shakenmy opinion of the wisdom which prompted him to that determination. Buthere, again, I declare, that I must reject the presumption that anysuggestion of mine led to the rule which the Prince had prescribed tohimself. My knowledge of it being, as I before said, the communication ofa resolution formed on the part of His Royal Highness, and not of aproposition awaiting the advice, countenance, or corroboration, of anyother person. Having thought it necessary to premise thus much, as I wishto write to you without reserve or concealment of any sort, I shall asbriefly as I can relate the facts which attended the composing the Answeritself, as far as I was concerned.

"On Sunday, or on Monday the 7th instant, I mentioned to Lord Moira, orto Adam, that the Address of the two Houses would come very quickly uponthe Prince, and that he should be prepared with his Answer, withoutentertaining the least idea of meddling with the subject myself, havingreceived no authority from His Royal Highness to do so. Either Lord Moiraor Adam informed me, before I left Carlton-House, that His Royal Highnesshad directed Lord Moira to sketch an outline of the Answer proposed, andI left town. On Tuesday evening it occurred to me to try at a sketch alsoof 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 todeclare, that I have entirely withdrawn from my mind any doubt, if for amoment I ever entertained any, of the perfect propriety of Adam's conductat that hurried interview; being also long convinced, as well fromintercourse with him at Carlton-House as in every transaction I havewitnessed, that it is impossible for him to act otherwise than with themost entire sincerity and honor towards all he deals with. I then readthe Paper I had put together to the Prince,—the most essential part ofit literally consisting of sentiments and expressions, which had fallenfrom the Prince himself in different conversations; and I read it to himwithout having once heard Lord Grenville's name even mentioned asin any way connected with the Answer proposed to be submitted to thePrince. On the contrary, indeed, I was under an impression that theframing this Answer was considered as the single act which it would be anunfair and embarrassing task to require the performance of from LordGrenville. The Prince approved the Paper I read to him, objecting,however, to some additional paragraphs of my own, and altering others. Inthe course of his observations, he cursorily mentioned that LordGrenville had undertaken to sketch out his idea of a proper Answer, andthat Lord Moira had done the same,—evidently expressing himself, to myapprehension, as not considering the framing of this Answer as a matterof official responsibility any where, but that it was his intention totake the choice and decision respecting it on himself. If, however, I hadknown, before I entered the Prince's apartment, that Lord Grenville andLord Grey had in any way undertaken to frame the Answer, and had thoughtthemselves authorized to do so, I protest the Prince would never evenhave heard of the draft which I had prepared, though containing, as Ibefore said, the Prince's own ideas.

"His Royal Highness having laid his commands on Adam and me to dine withhim alone on the next day, Thursday, I then, for the first time, learntthat Lord Grey and Lord Grenville had transmitted, through Adam, a formaldraft of an Answer to be submitted to the Prince.

"Under these circ*mstances I thought it became me humbly to request thePrince not to refer to me, in any respect, the Paper of the Noble Lords,or to insist even on my hearing its contents; but that I might bepermitted to put the draft he had received from me into the fire. ThePrince, however, who had read the Noble Lords' Paper, declining to hearof this, proceeded to state, how strongly he objected to almost everypart 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 eachparagraph. Finding His Royal Highness's objections to the whole radicaland insuperable, and seeing no means myself by which the Noble Lordscould change their draft, so as to meet the Prince's ideas, I ventured topropose, as the only expedient of which the time allowed, that both thePapers should be laid aside, and that a very short Answer, indeed,keeping clear of all topics liable to disagreement, should be immediatelysketched out and be submitted that night to the judgment of Lord Grey andLord Grenville. The lateness of the hour prevented any but very hastydiscussion, and Adam and myself proceeded, by His Royal Highness'sorders, to your house to relate what had passed to Lord Grey. I do notmean to disguise, however, that when I found myself bound to give myopinion, I did fully assent to the force and justice of the Prince'sobjections, and made other observations of my own, which I thought it myduty to do, conceiving, as I freely said, that the Paper could not havebeen 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 thatwe were not so strictly enjoined by the Prince, as to make it necessaryfor us to communicate to the Noble Lords the marginal comments of thePrince, and we determined to withhold them. But at the meeting with LordGrey, at your house, he appeared to me, erroneously perhaps, to declineconsidering the objections as coming from the Prince, but as originatingin my suggestions. Upon this, I certainly called on Adam to produce thePrince's copy, with his notes, in His Royal Highness's own hand-writing.

"Afterwards, finding myself considerably hurt at an expression of LordGrey's, which could only be pointed at me, and which expressed hisopinion that the whole of the Paper, which he assumed me to beresponsible for, was 'drawn up in an invidious spirit,' I certainly did,with more warmth than was, perhaps, discreet, comment on the Paperproposed to be substituted; and there ended, with no good effect, ourinterview.

"Adam and I saw the Prince again that night, when His Royal Highness wasgraciously pleased to meet our joint and earnest request, by striking outfrom the draft of the Answer, to which he still resolved to adhere, everypassage which we conceived to be most liable to objection on the part ofLord Grey and Lord Grenville.

"On the next morning, Friday,—a short time before he was to receive theAddress,—when Adam returned from the Noble Lords, with their expresseddisclaimer of the preferred Answer, altered as it was, His Royal Highnessstill persevered to eradicate every remaining word which he thought mightyet appear exceptionable to them, and made further alterations, althoughthe fair copy of the paper had been made out.

"Thus the Answer, nearly reduced to the expression of the Prince's ownsuggestions, and without an opportunity of farther meeting the wishes ofthe Noble Lords, was delivered by His Royal Highness, and presented bythe Deputation of the two Houses.

"I am ashamed to have been thus prolix and circ*mstantial, upon a matterwhich may appear to have admitted of much shorter explanation; but whenmisconception has produced distrust among those, I hope, not willinglydisposed to differ, and, who can have, I equally trust, but one commonobject in view in their different stations, I know no better way than byminuteness and accuracy of detail to remove whatever may have appeareddoubtful in conduct, while unexplained, or inconsistent in principle notclearly re-asserted.

"And now, my dear Lord, I have only shortly to express my own personalmortification, I will use no other word, that I should have beenconsidered by any persons however high in rank, or justly entitled tohigh political pretensions, as one so little 'attached to His RoyalHighness,' or so ignorant of the value 'of the Constitution of hiscountry,' as to be held out to HIM, whose fairly-earned esteem I regardas the first honor and the sole reward of my political life, in thecharacter of an interested contriver of a double government, and, in somemeasure, as an apostate from all my former principles,—which have taughtme, as well as the Noble Lords, that 'the maintenance of constitutionalresponsibility in the ministers of the Crown is essential to any hope ofsuccess in the administration of the public interest.'

"At the same time, I am most ready to admit that it could not be theirintention so to characterize me; but it is the direct inferencewhich others must gather from the first paragraph I have quoted fromtheir Representation, and an inference which, I understand, has alreadybeen raised in public opinion. A departure, my dear Lord, on my part,from upholding the principle declared by the Noble Lords, much more apresumptuous and certainly ineffectual attempt to inculcate a contrarydoctrine on the mind of the Prince of Wales, would, I am confident, loseme every particle of his favor and confidence at once and for ever. But Iam yet to learn what part of my past public life,—and I challengeobservation on every part of my present proceedings,—has warranted theadoption of any such suspicion of me, or the expression of any suchimputation against me. But I will dwell no longer on this point, as itrelates only to my own feelings and character; which, however, I am themore bound to consider, as others, in my humble judgment, have so hastilydisregarded both. At the same time, I do sincerely declare, that nopersonal disappointment in my own mind interferes with the respect andesteem I entertain for Lord Grenville, or in addition to thosesentiments, the friendly regard I owe to Lord Grey. To Lord Grenville Ihave the honor to be but very little personally known. From Lord Grey,intimately acquainted as he was with every circ*mstance of my conduct andprinciples in the years 1788-9, I confess I should have expected a verytardy and reluctant interpretation of any circ*mstance to mydisadvantage. What the nature of my endeavors were at that time, I havethe written testimonies of Mr. Fox and the Duke of Portland. To you Iknow those testimonies are not necessary, and perhaps it has been myrecollection of what passed in those times that may have led me toosecurely to conceive myself above the reach even of a suspicion that Icould adopt different principles now. Such as they were they remainuntouched and unaltered. I conclude with sincerely declaring, that to seethe Prince meeting the reward which his own honorable nature, his kindand generous disposition, and his genuine devotion to the true objects ofour free Constitution so well entitle him to, by being surrounded andsupported by an Administration affectionate to his person, and ambitiousof gaining and meriting his entire esteem, (yet tenacious, above allthings, of the constitutional principle, that exclusive confidence mustattach to the responsibility of those whom he selects to be his publicservants,) I would with heartfelt satisfaction rather be a looker on ofsuch a Government, giving it such humble support as might be in my power,than be the possessor of any possible situation either of profit orambition, to be obtained by any indirectness, or by the slightestdeparture from the principles I have always professed, and which I havenow 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 thefrankness he has shown towards me on this occasion, decide me, with allduty, to submit this letter to his perusal, before I place it in yourhands; meaning it undoubtedly to be by you shown to those to whom yourjudgment may deem it of any consequence to communicate it.

"I have the honor to be, &c.

"To Lord Holland.

(Signed)

"R. 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 ofthe question, and is silent as to the part that Sheridan took after thedelivery of the Remonstrance of the two noble Lords, yet, combined withpreceding events and with the insight into motives which they afford, itmay sufficiently enable the reader to form his own judgment, with respectto the conduct of the different persons concerned in the transaction.With the better and more ostensible motives of Sheridan, there was, nodoubt, some mixture of, what the Platonists call, "the material alluvion"of our nature. His political repugnance to the Coalesced Leaders wouldhave 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 wasat least equalled by his vanity in showing that he could govern himhimself. But, whatever were the precise views that impelled him to thistrial of strength, the victory which he gained in it was far moreextensive than he himself had either foreseen or wished. He had meant theparty to feel his power,—not to sink under it. Though privatelyalienated from them, on personal as well as political grounds, he knewthat, publicly he was too much identified with their ranks, ever toserve, with credit or consistency, in any other. He had, therefore, inthe ardor of undermining, carried the ground from beneath his own feet.In helping to disband his party, he had cashiered himself; and thereremained to him now, for the residue of his days, but that frailest ofall sublunary treasures, a Prince's friendship.

With this conviction, (which, in spite of all the sanguineness of hisdisposition, could hardly have failed to force itself on his mind,) itwas not, we should think, with very self-gratulatory feelings that heundertook the task, a few weeks after, of inditing, for the Regent, thatmemorable Letter to Mr. Perceval, which sealed the fate at once both ofhis party and himself, and whatever false signs of re-animation mayafterwards have appeared, severed the last life-lock by which the"struggling spirit" [Footnote: Lavtans anima] of this friendshipbetween Royalty and Whiggism still held:—

—"dextra crinem secat, omnis et una Dilapsus calor, atque in ventos vita recessit."

With respect to the chief Personage connected with these transactions, itis a proof of the tendency of knowledge, to produce a spirit oftolerance, that they who, judging merely from the surface of events, havebeen most forward in reprobating his separation from the Whigs, as arupture of political ties and an abandonment of private friendships,must, on becoming more thoroughly acquainted with all the circ*mstancesthat led to this crisis, learn to soften down considerably their angryfeelings; and to see, indeed, in the whole history of theconnection,—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 anddestined gradation towards the result at which it at last arrived, afteras much fluctuation of political principle, on one side, as there was ofindifference, perhaps, to all political principle on the other.

Among the arrangements that had been made, in contemplation of a new
Ministry, at this time, it was intended that Lord Moira should go, as
Lord Lieutenant, to Ireland, and that Mr. Sheridan should accompany him,
as Chief Secretary.

CHAPTER XI.

AFFAIRS OF THE NEW THEATRE.—MR. WHITBREAD.—NEGOTIATIONS WITH LORD GREYAND LORD GRENVILLE.—CONDUCT OF MR. SHERIDAN RELATIVE TO THEHOUSEHOLD.—HIS LAST WORDS IN PARLIAMENT.—FAILURE AT STAFFORD.—CORRESPONDENCE WITH MR. WHITBREAD.—LORD BYRON.—DISTRESSES OFSHERIDAN.—ILLNESS.—DEATH AND FUNERAL.—GENERAL REMARKS.

It was not till the close of this year that the Reports of the Committeeappointed under the Act for rebuilding the Theatre of Drury-Lane, werelaid before the public. By these it appeared that Sheridan was toreceive, for his moiety of the property, 24,000_l_., out of whichsum the claims of the Linley family and others were to besatisfied;—that a further sum of 4000_l_. was to be paid to him forthe property of the Fruit Offices and Reversion of Boxes and Shares;—andthat his son, Mr. Thomas Sheridan, was to receive, for his quarter of thePatent Property, 12,000_l_.

The gratitude that Sheridan felt to Mr. Whitbread at first, for thekindness with which he undertook this most arduous task, did not longremain unembittered when they entered into practical details. It would bedifficult indeed to find two persons less likely to agree in atransaction of this nature,—the one, in affairs of business, approachingalmost as near to the extreme of rigor as the other to that of laxity.While Sheridan, too,—like those painters, who endeavor to disguise theirignorance of anatomy by an indistinct and furzy outline,—had animposing method of generalizing his accounts and statements, which, tomost eyes, concealed the negligence and fallacy of the details, Mr.Whitbread, on the contrary, with an unrelenting accuracy, laid open theminutiae of every transaction, and made evasion as impossible to others,as it was alien and inconceivable to himself. He was, perhaps, the onlyperson, whom Sheridan had ever found proof against his powers ofpersuasion,—and this rigidity naturally mortified his pride full as muchas it thwarted and disconcerted his views.

Among the conditions to which he agreed, in order to facilitate thearrangements of the Committee, the most painful to him was that whichstipulated that he, himself, should "have no concern or connection, ofany kind whatever, with the new undertaking." This concession, however,he, at first, regarded as a mere matter of form—feeling confident that,even without any effort of his own, the necessity under which the newCommittee would find themselves of recurring to his advice andassistance, would, ere long, reinstate him in all his former influence.But in this hope he was disappointed—his exclusion from all concern inthe new Theatre, (which, it is said, was made a sine-qua-non byall who embarked in it,) was inexorably enforced by Whitbread; and thefollowing letter addressed by him to the latter will show the state oftheir respective feelings on this point:—

"MY DEAR WHITBREAD,

"I am not going to write you a controversial or even an argumentativeletter, but simply to put down the heads of a few matters which I wishshortly to converse with you upon, in the most amicable and temperatemanner, deprecating the impatience which may sometimes have mixed in ourdiscussions, 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 endeavorto advise and assist Mr. Benjamin Wyatt in the improving and perfectinghis plan as if it had been my own preferable selection, assuming, as Imust do, that there cannot exist an individual in England so presumptuousor so void of common sense as not sincerely to solicit the aid of mypractical experience on this occasion, even were I not, in justice to theSubscribers, bound spontaneously to offer it.

"But it would be unmanly dissimulation in me to retain the sentiments Ido with respect to your doctrine on this subject, and not expresswhat I so strongly feel. That doctrine was, to my utter astonishment, tosay no more, first promulgated to me in a letter from you, written intown, in the following terms. Speaking of building and plans, you say tome, 'You are in no, way answerable if a bad Theatre is built: it isnot YOU who built it; and if we come to the STRICT RIGHT ofthe thing, you have NO BUSINESS TO INTERFERE;' and further on yousay, 'Will YOU but STAND ALOOF, and every thing will gosmooth, and a good Theatre shall be built;' and in conversation youput, as a similar case, that, 'if a man sold another a piece of land,it was nothing to the seller whether the purchaser built himself a goodor a bad house upon it.' Now I declare before God I never felt moreamazement than that a man of your powerful intellect, just view of allsubjects, and knowledge of the world, should hold such language or resortto such arguments; and I must be convinced, that, although in animpatient moment this opinion may have fallen from you, upon the leastreflection or the slightest attention to the reason of the case, youwould, 'albeit unused to the retracting mood,' confess the erroneous viewyou had taken of the subject. Otherwise, I must think, and with thedeepest regret would it be, that although you originally engaged in thisbusiness from motives of the purest and kindest regard for me and myfamily, your ardor and zealous eagerness to accomplish the difficult taskyou had undertaken have led you, in this instance, to overlook what isdue to my feelings, to my honor, and my just interests. For, supposing Iwere to 'stand aloof,' totally unconcerned, provided I were paidfor my share, whether the new Theatre were excellent or execrable, andthat the result should be that the Subscribers, instead of profit, couldnot, through the misconstruction of the house, obtain one per cent. fortheir money, do you seriously believe you could find a single man, woman,or child, in the kingdom, out of the Committee, who would believe that Iwas wholly guiltless of the failure, having been so stultified andproscribed by the Committee, (a Committee of my own nomination) asto have been compelled to admit, as the condition of my being paid for myshare, that 'it was nothing to me whether the Theatre was good or bad'or, on the contrary? can it be denied that the reproaches ofdisappointment, through the great body of the Subscribers, would bedirected against me and me alone?

"So much as to character:—now as to my feelings on the subject;—Imust say that in friendship, at least, if not in 'strict right,'they ought to be consulted, even though the Committee could either provethat I had not to apprehend any share in the discredit and discontentwhich might follow the ill success of their plan, or that I was entitledto brave whatever malice or ignorance might direct against me. Next, andlastly, as to my just interest in the property I am to part with, aconsideration to which, however careless I might be were I aloneconcerned, I am bound to attend in justice to my own private creditors,observe how the matter stands:—I agree to wave my own 'strictright' to be paid before the funds can be applied to the building,and this in the confidence and on the continued understanding, that myadvice should be so far respected, that, even should the subscription notfill, I should at least see a Theatre capable of being charged with andultimately of discharging what should remain justly due to theproprietors. To illustrate this I refer to the size of the pit, thenumber of private boxes, and the annexation of a tavern; but in what asituation would the doctrine of your Committee leave me and my son? 'Itis nothing to us how the Theatre is built, or whether it prospers ornot.' These are two circ*mstances we have nothing to do with; only,unfortunately, upon them may depend our best chance of receiving anypayment for the property we part with. It is nothing to us how the shipis 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 willsee, that in order that the Committee should, in 'strict right,'become entitled to deal thus with us, and bid us stand aloof, theyshould buy us out, and make good the payment. But the reverse of this hasbeen my own proposal, and I neither repent nor wish to make any change init.

"I have totally departed from my intention, when I first began thisletter, for which I ought to apologize to you; but it may save muchfuture talk: other less important matters will do in conversation. Youwill allow that I have placed in you the most implicit confidence—havethe reasonable trust in me that, in any communication I may have with B.Wyatt, my object will not be to obstruct, as you have hastilyexpressed it, but bonâ fide to assist him to render his Theatre asperfect as possible, as well with a view to the public accommodation asto profit to the Subscribers; neither of which can be obtained withoutestablishing a reputation for him which must be the basis of his futurefortune.

"And now, after all this statement, you will perhaps be surprised to findhow little I require;—simply some Resolution of the Committee to theeffect of that I enclose.

"I conclude with heartily thanking you for the declaration you maderespecting me, and reported to me by Peter Moore, at the close of thelast meeting of the Committee. I am convinced of your sincerity; but as Ihave before described the character of the gratitude I feel towards youin a letter written likewise in this house, I have only to say, thatevery sentiment in that letter remains unabated and unalterable.

"Ever, my dear Whitbread,

"Yours, faithfully.

"P.S. The discussion we had yesterday respecting some investigation ofthe past, which I deem so essential to my character and to mypeace of mind, and your present concurrence with me on that subject, haverelieved my mind from great anxiety, though I cannot but still think thebetter opportunity has been passed by. One word more, and I release you.Tom informed me that you had hinted to him that any demands, notpracticable to be settled by the Committee, must fall on the proprietors.My resolution is to take all such on myself, and to leave Tom's shareuntouched."

Another concession, which Sheridan himself had volunteered, namely, thepostponement of his right of being paid the amount of his claim, tillafter the Theatre should be built, was also a subject of much acrimoniousdiscussion between the two friends,—Sheridan applying to this conditionthat sort of lax interpretation, which would have left him the credit ofthe sacrifice without its inconvenience, and Whitbread, with a firmnessof grasp, to which, unluckily, the other had been unaccustomed inbusiness, holding him to the strict letter of his voluntary agreementwith the Subscribers. Never, indeed, was there a more melancholy examplethan Sheridan exhibited, at this moment, of the last, hard struggle ofpride and delicacy against the most deadly foe of both, pecuniaryinvolvement,—which thus gathers round its victims, fold after fold, tillthey are at length crushed in its inextricable clasp.

The mere likelihood of a sum of money being placed at his disposal wassufficient—like the "bright day that brings forth the adder"—to callinto life the activity of all his duns; and how liberally he made thefund available among them, appears from the following letter ofWhitbread, addressed, not to Sheridan himself, but, apparently, (for thedirection is wanting,) to some man of business connected with him:—

"MY DEAR SIR,

"I had determined not to give any written answer to the note you put intomy hands yesterday morning; but a further perusal of it leads me to thinkit better to make a statement in writing, why I, for one, cannot complywith the request it contains, and to repel the impression which appearsto have existed in Mr. Sheridan's mind at the time that note was written.He insinuates that to some postponement of his interests, by theCommittee, is owing the distressed situation in which he is unfortunatelyplaced.

"Whatever postponement of the interests of the Proprietors may ultimatelybe resorted to, as matter of indispensable necessity from the state ofthe Subscription Fund, will originate in the written suggestion of Mr.Sheridan himself; and, in certain circ*mstances, unless such latitudewere allowed on his part, the execution of the Act could not have beenattempted.

"At present there is no postponement of his interests,—but there is anutter impossibility of touching the Subscription Fund at all, except forvery trifling specified articles, until a supplementary Act of Parliamentshall have been obtained.

"By the present Act, even if the Subscription were full, and noimpediments existed to the use of the money, the Act itself, and theincidental expenses of plans, surveys, &c., are first to be paidfor,—then the portion of Killegrew's Patent,—then the claimants,—andthen the Proprietors. Now the Act is not paid for: White andMartindale are not paid; and not one single claimant is paid, nor can anyone of them be paid, until we have fresh powers and additionalsubscriptions.

"How then can Mr. Sheridan attribute to any postponement of hisinterests, actually made by the Committee, the present condition of hisaffairs? and why are we driven to these observations and explanations?

"We cannot but all deeply lament his distress, but the palliation heproposes it is not in our power to give.

"We cannot guarantee Mr. Hammersley upon the fund coming eventually toMr. Sheridan. He alludes to the claims he has already created upon thatfund. He must, besides, recollect the list of names he sent to me sometime ago, of persons to whom he felt himself in honor bound toappropriate to each his share of that fund, in common with others forwhose names he left a blank, and who, he says in the same letter, havewritten engagements from him. Besides, he has communicated both to Mr.Taylor and to Mr. Shaw, through me, offers to impound the whole of thesum to answer the issue of the unsettled demands made upon him by thosegentlemen respectively.

"How then can we guarantee Mr. Hammersley in the payment of any sum outof this fund, so circ*mstanced? Mr. Hammersley's possible profits areprospective, and the prospect remote. I know the positive losses hesustains, and the sacrifices he is obliged to make to procure the chanceof the compromise he is willing to accept.

"Add to all this, that we are still struggling with difficulties which wemay or may not overcome; that those difficulties are greatly increased bythe persons whose interest and duty should equally lead them to give usevery facility and assistance in the labors we have disinterestedlyundertaken, and are determined faithfully to discharge. If we fail atlast, from whatever cause, the whole vanishes.

"You know, my dear Sir, that I grieve for the sad state of Mr. Sheridan'saffairs. I would contribute my mite to their temporary relief, if itwould be acceptable; but as one of the Committee, intrusted with a publicfund, 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 theCommittee, any step taken by me, or with my concurrence, has pressed uponthe circ*mstances of Mr. Sheridan.

"I am,

"My dear Sir,

"Faithfully yours,

"Southill, Dec. 19, 1811."

"SAMUEL WHITBREAD."

A Dissolution of Parliament being expected to take place, Mr. Sheridanagain turned his eyes to Stafford; and, in spite of the estrangement towhich his infidelities at Westminster had given rise, saw enough, hethought, of the "veteris vestigia flammae" to encourage him tohope for a renewal of the connection. The following letter to Sir OswaldMoseley 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 yourself acandidate for Stafford, when a future election may arrive,—a place whereyou are highly esteemed, and where every humble service in my power, as Ihave before declared to you, should have been at your command,—I havedetermined to accept the very cordial invitations I have received fromold friends in that quarter, and, (though entirely secure of myseat at Ilchester, and, indeed, even of the second seat for my son,through the liberality of Sir W. Manners), to return to the old goal fromwhence I started thirty-one years since! You will easily see thatarrangements at Ilchester may be made towards assisting me, in point ofexpense, to meet any opposition, and, in that respect,nothing will be wanting. It will, I confess, be very gratifying tome to be again elected by the sons of those who chose me in theyear eighty, and adhered to me so stoutly and so long. I think Iwas returned for Stafford seven, if not eight, times, including two mosttough and expensive contests; and, in taking a temporary leave of them Iam 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, haveever given me their warmest support; and, as no political objectinterests my mind so much as the Catholic cause, I have no doubt thatindependent of their personal friendship, I shall receive a continuationof their honorable support. I feel it to be no presumption to add, thatother respectable interests in the neighborhood will be with me.

"I need scarcely add my sanguine hope, that whatever interest rests withyou, (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 thistime, (which I find written in his neatest hand, as if intended tobe sent), is this curious one:—

"DEAR KING JOHN,

"Cavendish-Square, Sunday night,

"I shall be in Stafford in the course of next week, and if Your Majestydoes not renew our old alliance I shall never again have faith in anypotentate 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 theassassination of Mr. Perceval,—to bring the Whigs into officialrelations with the Court, were, it is evident, but little inspired oneither side, with the feelings likely to lead to such a result. Itrequires but a perusal of the published correspondence in both cases toconvince us that, at the bottom of all these evolutions of negotiation,there was anything but a sincere wish that the object to which theyrelated should be accomplished. The Maréchal Bassompiere was not moreafraid of succeeding in his warfare, when he said, "Je crois que nousserons assez fous pour prendre la Rochelle," than was one of theparties, at least, in these negotiations, of any favorable turn thatmight inflict success upon its overtures. Even where the Court, as in thecontested point of the Household, professed its readiness to accede tothe surrender so injudiciously demanded of it, those who acted as itsdiscretionary organs knew too well the real wishes in that quarter, andhad been too long and faithfully zealous in their devotion to thosewishes 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, theservice of Sheridan, though flowing partly from the same zeal, was not, Igrieve to say, of the same clear and honorable character.

Lord Yarmouth, it is well known, stated in the House of Commons that hehad communicated to Mr. Sheridan the intention of the Household toresign, with the view of having that intention conveyed to Lord Grey andLord Grenville, and thus removing the sole ground upon which these NobleLords objected to the acceptance of office. Not only, however, didSheridan endeavor to dissuade the Noble Vice-Chamberlain from resigning,but with an unfairness of dealing which admits, I own, of no vindication,he withheld from the two leaders of Opposition the intelligence thusmeant to be conveyed to them; and, when questioned by Mr. Tierney as tothe rumored intentions of the Household to resign, offered to bet fivehundred guineas that there was no such step in contemplation.

In this conduct, which he made but a feeble attempt to explain, and whichI consider as the only indefensible part of his whole public life, hewas, in some degree, no doubt, influenced by personal feelings againstthe two Noble Lords, whom his want of fairness on the occasion was sowell calculated to thwart and embarrass. But the main motive of the wholeproceeding is to be found in his devoted deference to what he knew to bethe wishes and feelings of that Personage, who had become now, more thanever, the mainspring of all his movements,—whose spell over him, in thisinstance, was too strong for even his sense of character; and to whom hemight 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 theloadstone-rock in Eastern fable, that drew the nails out of the lucklessship that came near it, steals gradually away the strength by whichcharacter is held together, till, at last, it loosens at all points, andfalls to pieces, a wreck!

In proof of the fettering influence under which he acted on thisoccasion, we find him in one of his evasive attempts at vindication,suppressing, from delicacy to his Royal Master, a circ*mstance which, ifmentioned, would have redounded considerably to his own credit. Aftermentioning that the Regent had "asked his opinion with respect to thenegotiations that were going on," he adds, "I gave him my opinion, and Imost devoutly wish that that opinion could be published to the world,that it might serve to shame those who now belie me."

The following is the fact to which these expressions allude. When thePrince-Regent, on the death of Mr. Perceval, entrusted to Lord Wellesleythe task of forming an Administration, it appears that His Royal Highnesshad signified either his intention or wish to exclude a certain NobleEarl from the arrangements to be made under that commission. On learningthis, Sheridan not only expressed strongly his opinion against such astep, but having, afterwards, reason to fear that the freedom with whichhe spoke on the subject had been displeasing to the Regent, he addresseda letter to that Illustrious Person, (a copy of which I have in mypossession,) in which, after praising the "wisdom and magnanimity"displayed by His Royal Highness, in confiding to Lord Wellesley thepowers that had just been entrusted to him, he repeated his opinion thatany "proscription" of the Noble Earl in question, would be "a proceedingequally derogatory to the estimation of His Royal Highness's personaldignity and the security of his political power;"—adding, that theadvice, which he took the liberty of giving against such a step, did notproceed "from any peculiar partiality to the Noble Earl or to many ofthose with whom he was allied; but was founded on what he considered tobe best for His Royal Highness's honor and interest, and for the generalinterests of the country."

The letter (in alluding to the displeasure which he feared he hadincurred 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 hisproposition as a general maxim—I am confident that Your Royal Highnesspossesses qualities to win and secure to you the attachment and devotionof private friendship, in spite of your being a Sovereign. At least Ifeel that I am entitled to make this declaration as far as relates tomyself—and I do it under the assured conviction that you will neverrequire from me any proof of that attachment and devotion inconsistentwith the clear and honorable independence of mind and conduct, whichconstitute my sole value as a public man, and which have hitherto been mybest recommendation to your gracious favor, confidence, and protection."

It is to be regretted that while by this wise advice he helped to saveHis Royal Master from the invidious appearance of acting upon aprinciple of exclusion, he should, by his private management afterwards,have but too well contrived to secure to him all the advantage of thatprinciple in reality.

The political career of Sheridan was now drawing fast to a close. Hespoke but upon two or three other occasions during the Session; and amongthe last sentences uttered by him in the House were thefollowing;—which, as calculated to leave a sweeter flavor on the memory,at parting, than those questionable transactions that have just beenrelated, I have great pleasure in citing:—

"My objection to the present Ministry, is that they are avowedly arrayedand embodied against a principle,—that of concession to the Catholics ofIreland,—which I think, and must always think, essential to the safetyof this empire. I will never give my vote to any Administration thatopposes the question of Catholic Emancipation. I will not consent toreceive a furlough upon that particular question, even though a Ministrywere carrying every other that I wished. In fine, I think the situationof Ireland a paramount consideration. If they were to be the last words Ishould ever utter in this House, I should say, 'Be just to Ireland, asyou value your own honor,—be just to Ireland, as you value your ownpeace.'"

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 everexist an independent historian to record the awful events that producedthis universal calamity, let that historian have to say,—'Great Britainfell, and with her fell all the best securities for the charities ofhuman life, for the power and honor, the fame, the glory, and theliberties, not only of herself, but of the whole civilized world.'" Inthe month of September following, Parliament was dissolved; and,presuming upon the encouragement which he had received from some of hisStafford friends, he again tried his chance of election for that borough,but without success. This failure he, himself, imputed, as will be seenby the following letter, to the refusal of Mr. Whitbread to advance him2000_l._ out of the sum due to him by the Committee for his share ofthe property:—

"DEAR WHITBREAD,

"Cook's Hotel, Nov. 1, 1812.

"I was misled to expect you in town the beginning of last week, but beingpositively assured that you will arrive to-morrow, I have declinedaccompanying Hester into Hampshire as I intended, and she has gone to-daywithout me; but I must leave town to join her as soon as I can. Wemust have some serious but yet, I hope, friendly conversation respectingmy unsettled claims on the Drury-Lane Theatre Corporation. A concludingparagraph, in one of your last letters to Burgess, which he thoughthimself justified in showing me, leads me to believe that it is not yourobject to distress or destroy me. On the subject of your refusing toadvance to me the 2000_l._. I applied for to take with me toStafford, out of the large sum confessedly due to me, (unless I signedsome paper containing I know not what, and which you presented to mybreast like a co*cked pistol on the last day I saw you,) I will not dwell.This, and this alone, lost me my election. You deceive yourself ifyou give credit to any other causes, which the pride of my friends choseto attribute our failure to, rather than confess our poverty. I do notmean now to expostulate with you, much less to reproach you, but sure Iam that when you contemplate the positive injustice of refusing me theaccommodation I required, and the irreparable injury that refusal hascast on me, overturning, probably, all the honor and independence of whatremains of my political life, you will deeply reproach yourself.

"I shall make an application to the Committee, when I hear you haveappointed one, for the assistance which most pressing circ*mstances nowcompel me to call for; and all I desire is, through a sincere wish thatour friendship may not be interrupted, that the answer to thatapplication may proceed from a bonâ fide Committee, with theirsignatures, 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, andwhich the state of poor Sheridan's mind, goaded as he was now by distressand disappointment, may well excuse, it will be seen by the followingletter from Whitbread, written on the very eve of the elections inSeptember, that there was no want of inclination, on the part of thishonorable and excellent man, to afford assistance to his friend,—butthat the duties of the perplexing trust which he had undertaken renderedsuch irregular advances as Sheridan required impossible:—

'MY DEAR SHERIDAN,

"We will not enter into details, although you are quite mistaken in them.You know how happy I shall be to propose to the Committee to agree toanything practicable; and you may make all practicable, if you will haveresolution to look at the state of the account between you and theCommittee, and agree to the mode of its liquidation.

"You will recollect the 5000_l_. pledged to Peter Moore to answerdemands; the certificates given to Giblet, Ker, Ironmonger, Cross, andHirdle, five each at your request; the engagements given to Ellis andmyself, and the arrears to the Linley family. All this taken intoconsideration will leave a large balance still payable to you. Stillthere are upon that balance the claims upon you by Shaw, Taylor, andGrubb, for all of which you have offered to leave the whole of yourcompensation in my hands, to abide the issue of arbitration.

"This may be managed by your agreeing to take a considerable portion ofyour balance in bonds, leaving those bonds in trust to answer the events.

"I shall be in town on Monday to the Committee, and will be prepared witha sketch of the state of your account with the Committee, and with themode in which I think it would be prudent for you and them to adjust it;which if you will agree to, and direct the conveyance to be madeforthwith, I will undertake to propose the advance of money you wish. Butwithout a clear arrangement, as a justification, nothing can be done.

"I shall be in Dover-Street at nine o'clock, and be there and inDrury-Lane all day. The Queen comes, but the day is not fixed. Theelection will occupy me after Monday. After that is over, I hope we shallsee you.

"Yours very truly,

"Southill, Sept. 25, 1812.

"S. WHITBREAD."

The feeling entertained by Sheridan towards the Committee had alreadybeen strongly manifested this year by the manner in which Mrs. Sheridanreceived the Resolution passed by them, offering her the use of a box inthe new Theatre. The notes of Whitbread to Mrs. Sheridan on this subject,prove how anxious he was to conciliate the wounded feelings of hisfriend:—

"MY DEAR ESTHER,

"I have delayed sending the enclosed Resolution of the Drury-LaneCommittee to you, because I had hoped to have found a moment to havecalled upon you, and to have delivered it into your hands. But I see nochance of that, and therefore literally obey my instructions in writingto you.

"I had great pleasure in proposing the Resolution, which was cordiallyand unanimously adopted. I had it always in contemplation,—but to haveproposed it earlier would have been improper. I hope you will derive muchamusem*nt from your visits to the Theatre, and that you and all of yourname will ultimately be pleased with what has been done. I have just hada most satisfactory letter from Tom Sheridan.

"I am,

"My dear Esther,

"Affectionately yours,

"Dover-Street, July 4, 1812.

"SAMUEL WHITBREAD."

"MY DEAR ESTHER,

"It has been a great mortification and disappointment to me, to have metthe Committee twice, since the offer of the use of a box at the newTheatre was made to you, and that I have not had to report the slightestacknowledgment from you in return.

"The Committee meet again tomorrow, and after that there will be nomeeting for some time. If I shall be compelled to return the same blankanswer I have hitherto done, the inference drawn will naturally be, thatwhat was designed by himself, who moved it, and by those who voted it, asa gratifying mark of attention to Sheridan through you, (as the mostgratifying 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 determinationon 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 nowexcluded both from the Theatre and from Parliament:—the two anchors bywhich he held in life were gone, and he was left a lonely and helplesswreck upon the waters. The Prince Regent offered to bring him intoParliament; but the thought of returning to that scene of his triumphsand his freedom, with the Royal owner's mark, as it were, upon him, wasmore than he could bear—and he declined the offer. Indeed, miserable andinsecure as his life was now, when we consider the public humiliations towhich he would have been exposed, between his ancient pledge to Whiggismand his attachment and gratitude to Royalty, it is not wonderful that heshould have preferred even the alternative of arrests and imprisonmentsto the risk of bringing upon his political name any further tarnish insuch a struggle. Neither could his talents have much longer continued todo themselves justice, amid the pressure of such cares, and the increasedindulgence of habits, which, as is usual, gained upon him, as all otherindulgences vanished. The ancients, we are told, by a significant device,inscribed on the wreaths they wore at banquets the name of Minerva.Unfortunately, from the festal wreath of Sheridan this name was now buttoo often effaced; and the same charm, that once had served to give aquicker flow to thought, was now employed to muddy the stream, as itbecame painful to contemplate what was at the bottom of it. By hisexclusion, therefore, from Parliament, he was, perhaps, seasonably savedfrom affording to that "Folly, which loves the martyrdom of Fame,"[Footnote: "And Folly loves the martyrdom of Fame."

This fine line is in Lord Byron's Monody to his memory. There is anotherline, equally true and touching, where, alluding to the irregularities ofthe latter part of Sheridan's life, he says—

"And what to them seem'd vice might be but woe."] the spectacle of agreat mind, not only surviving itself, but, like the champion in Berni,continuing the combat after life is gone:—

"Andava combattendo, ed era morto."

In private society, however, he could, even now, (before the Rubicon ofthe cup was passed,) fully justify his high reputation for agreeablenessand wit; and a day which it was my good fortune to spend with him, at thetable of Mr. Rogers, has too many mournful, as well as pleasant,associations connected with it, to be easily forgotten by the survivorsof the party. The company consisted but of Mr. Rogers himself, LordByron, Mr. Sheridan, and the writer of this Memoir. Sheridan knew theadmiration his audience felt for him; the presence of the young poet, inparticular, seemed to bring back his own youth and wit; and the detailshe gave of his early life were not less interesting and animating tohimself 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, likethe rest, turned chiefly on allusions to the Phenix, he said,—"ButWhitbread made more of this bird than any of them:—he entered intoparticulars, and described its wings, beak, tail, &c.; in short, it was aPoulterer's description of a Phenix!"

The following extract from a Diary in my possession, kept by Lord Byronduring six months of his residence in London, 1812-13, will show theadmiration which this great and generous spirit felt for Sheridan:—

"Saturday, December 18, 1813.

"Lord Holland told me a curious piece of sentimentality inSheridan. The other night we were all delivering our respective andvarious opinions on him and other 'hommes marquans,' and mine wasthis:—'Whatever Sheridan has done or chosen to do has been parexcellence, always the best of its kind. He has written thebest comedy, (School for Scandal,) the best opera, (TheDuenna—in my mind far before that St. Giles's lampoon, The Beggar'sOpera,) the best farce, (The Critic—it is only too good for anafter-piece,) and the best Address, (Monologue on Garrick,)—andto crown all, delivered the very best oration, (the famous BegumSpeech,) ever conceived or heard in this country.' Somebody told Sheridanthis the next day, and on hearing it, he burst into tears!—PoorBrinsley! If they were tears of pleasure, I would rather have said thosefew, but sincere, words, than have written the Iliad, or made his owncelebrated Philippic. Nay, his own comedy never gratified me more than tohear 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 shortremainder of his life it is a melancholy task to follow him. The sumarising from the sale of his theatrical property was soon exhausted bythe various claims upon it, and he was driven to part with all that hemost valued, to satisfy further demands and provide for the subsistenceof the day. Those books which, as I have already mentioned, werepresented to him by various friends, now stood in their splendidbindings, [Footnote: In most of them, too, were the names of the givers.The delicacy with which Mr. Harrison of Wardour-Street, (the pawnbrokerwith whom the books and the cup were deposited,) behaved, after the deathof Mr. Sheridan, deserves to be mentioned with praise. Instead ofavailing himself of the public feeling at that moment, by submittingthese precious relics to the competition of a sale, he privatelycommunicated to the family and one or two friends of Sheridan thecirc*mstance of his having such articles in his hands, and demandednothing more than the sum regularly due on them. The Stafford cup is inthe possession of Mr. Charles Sheridan.] on the shelves of thepawnbroker. The handsome cup, given him by the electors of Stafford,shared the same fate. Three or four fine pictures by Gainsborough, andone by Morland, were sold for little more than five hundred pounds;[Footnote: In the following extract from a note to his solicitor, herefers to these pictures:

"DEAR BURGESS,

"I am perfectly satisfied with your account;—nothing can be more clearor fair, or more disinterested on your part;—but I must grieve to thinkthat five or six hundred pounds for my poor pictures are added to theexpenditure. However, we shall come through!"] and even the preciousportrait of his first wife, [Footnote: As Saint Cecilia. The portrait ofMrs. Sheridan at Knowle, though less ideal than that of Sir Joshua, is,(for this very reason, perhaps, as bearing a closer resemblance to theoriginal,) still more beautiful.] by Reynolds, though not actually soldduring his life, vanished away from his eyes into other hands.

One of the most humiliating trials of his pride was yet to come. In thespring of this year he was arrested and carried to a spunging-house,where he remained two or three days. This abode, from which the followingpainful letter to Whitbread was written, formed a sad contrast to thosePrincely halls, of which he had so lately been the most brilliant andfavored guest, and which were possibly, at that very moment, lighted upand crowded with gay company, unmindful of him within those prisonwalls:—

"Tooke's Court, Cursitor-Street, Thursday, past two.

"I have done everything in my power with the solicitors, White andFounes, to obtain my release, by substituting a better security for themthan their detaining me—but in vain.

"Whitbread, putting all false professions of friendship and feeling outof the question, you have no right to keep me here!—for it is in truthyour act—if you had not forcibly withheld from me the twelvethousand pounds, in consequence of a threatening letter from amiserable swindler, whose claim YOU in particular knew to be alie, I should at least have been out of the reach of thisstate of miserable insult—for that, and that only, lost me my seat inParliament. And I assert that you cannot find a lawyer in the land, thatis not either a natural-born fool or a corrupted scoundrel, who will notdeclare that your conduct in this respect was neither warrantable norlegal—but let that pass for the present.

"Independently of the 1000_l_. ignorantly withheld from me on theday of considering my last claim. I require of you to answer the draft Isend herewith on the part of the Committee, pledging myself to prove tothem on the first day I can personally meet them, that there arestill thousands and thousands due to me, both legally, and equitably,from the Theatre. My word ought to be taken on this subject; and you mayproduce to them this document, if one, among them could think that, underall the circ*mstances, your conduct required a justification. O God! withwhat mad confidence have I trusted your word,—I askjustice from you, and no boon. I enclosed you yesterdaythree different securities, which had you been disposed to have actedeven as a private friend, would have made it certain that youmight have done so without the smallest risk. These you discreetlyoffered to put into the fire, when you found the object of your humanevisit satisfied by seeing me safe in prison.

"I shall only add, that, I think, if I know myself, had our lots beenreversed, and I had seen you in my situation, and had left Lady E. inthat of my wife, I would have risked 600_l_. rather than have leftyou so—although I had been in no way accessory in bringing you into thatcondition.

"S. Whitbread. Esq.

"R. B. SHERIDAN."

Even in this situation the sanguineness of his disposition did not deserthim; for he was found by Mr. Whitbread, on his visit to thespunging-house, confidently calculating on the representation forWestminster, in which the proceedings relative to Lord Cochrane at thatmoment promised a vacancy. On his return home, however, to Mrs. Sheridan,(some arrangements having been made by Whitbread for his release,) allhis fortitude forsook him, and he burst into a long and passionate fit ofweeping at the profanation, as he termed it, which his person hadsuffered.

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 occurbetween the most affectionate companions, and which, possibly, aremonstrance on his irregularities and want of care of himselfoccasioned:—"Never again let one harsh word pass between us, during theperiod, which may not perhaps be long, that we are in this worldtogether, and life, however clouded to me, is mutually spared to us. Ihave expressed this same sentiment to my son, in a letter I wrote to hima few days since, and I had his answer—a most affecting one, and, I amsure, very sincere—and have since cordially embraced him. Don't imaginethat I am expressing an interesting apprehension about myself, which I donot feel."

Though the new Theatre of Drury-Lane had now been three years built, hisfeelings had never allowed him to set his foot within its walls. Aboutthis time, however, he was persuaded by his friend, Lord Essex, to dinewith him and go in the evening to His Lordship's box, to see Kean. Oncethere, the "genius loci" seems to have regained its influence overhim; for, on missing him from the box, between the Acts, Lord Essex, whofeared that he had left the House, hastened out to inquire, and, to hisgreat satisfaction, found him installed in the Green-room, with all theactors around him, welcoming him back to the old region of his glory,with a sort of filial cordiality. Wine was immediately ordered, and abumper to the health of Mr. Sheridan was drank by all present, with theexpression of many a hearty wish that he would often, very often,re-appear among them. This scene, as was natural, exhilarated hisspirits, and, on parting with Lord Essex that night, at his own door, inSaville-Row, he said triumphantly that the world would soon hear of him,for the Duke of Norfolk was about to bring him into Parliament. This, itappears, was actually the case; but Death stood near as he spoke. In afew days after his last fatal illness began.

Amid all the distresses of these latter years of his life, he appears butrarely to have had recourse to pecuniary assistance from friends. Mr.Peter Moore, Mr. Ironmonger, and one or two others, who did more for thecomfort of his decline than any of his high and noble associates, concurin 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 ofborrowing. One instance, however, where he laid himself under this sortof obligation, deserves to be mentioned. Soon after the return of Mr.Canning from Lisbon, a letter was put into his hands, in the House ofCommons, which proved to be a request from his old friend Sheridan, thenlying ill in bed, that he would oblige him with the loan of a hundredpounds. It is unnecessary to say that the request was promptly andfeelingly complied with; and if the pupil has ever regretted leaving thepolitics of his master, it was not at that moment, at least, sucha feeling was likely to present itself.

There are, in the possession of a friend of Sheridan, copies of acorrespondence in which he was engaged this year with two noble Lords andthe confidential agent of an illustrious Personage, upon a subject, as itappears, of the utmost delicacy and importance. The letters of Sheridan,it is said, (for I have not seen them,) though of too secret andconfidential a nature to meet the public eye, not only prove the greatconfidence reposed in him by the parties concerned, but show theclearness and manliness of mind which he could still command, under thepressure of all that was most trying to human intellect.

The disorder, with which he was now attacked, arose from a diseased stateof the stomach, brought on partly by irregular living, and partly by theharassing anxieties that had, for so many years, without intermission,beset him. His powers of digestion grew every day worse, till he was atlength unable to retain any sustenance. Notwithstanding this, however,his strength seemed to be but little broken, and his pulse remained, forsome time, strong and regular. Had he taken, indeed, but ordinary care ofhimself through life, the robust conformation of his frame, andparticularly, as I have heard his physician remark, the peculiar widthand capaciousness of his chest, seemed to mark him out for a long courseof healthy existence. In general Nature appears to have a prodigaldelight in enclosing her costliest essences in the most frail andperishable vessels:—but Sheridan was a signal exception to this remark;for, with a spirit so "finely touched," he combined all the robustness ofthe most uninspired clay.

Mrs. Sheridan was, at first, not aware of his danger; but Dr. Bain—whoseskill was now, as it ever had been, disinterestedly at the service of hisfriend, [Footnote: A letter from Sheridan to this amiable man, (of whichI know not the date,) written in reference to a caution which he hadgiven Mrs. Sheridan, against sleeping in the same bed with a lady who wasconsumptive, expresses feelings creditable alike to the writer and hisphysician:—

"MY DEAR SIR,

"July 31.

"The caution you recommend proceeds from that attentive kindness whichHester always receives from you, and upon which I place the greatestreliance for her safety. I so entirely agree with your apprehensions onthe subject, that I think it was very giddy in me not to have been struckwith them when she first mentioned having slept with her friend. Nothingcan abate my love for her; and the manner in which you apply the interestyou take in her happiness, and direct the influence you possess in hermind, render you, beyond comparison, the person I feel most obliged toupon earth. I take this opportunity of saying this upon paper, because itis a subject on which I always find it difficult to speak.

"With respect to that part of your note in which you express suchfriendly partiality, as to my parliamentary conduct, I need not add thatthere is no man whose good opinion can be more flattering to me.

"I am ever, my dear Bain,

"Your sincere and obliged

"R. B. SHERIDAN."]—thought it right to communicate to her theapprehensions that he felt. From that moment, her attentions to thesufferer never ceased day or night; and, though drooping herself with anillness that did not leave her long behind him, she watched over hisevery word and wish, with unremitting anxiety, to the last.

Connected, no doubt, with the disorganization of his stomach, was anabscess, from which, though distressingly situated, he does not appear tohave suffered much pain. In the spring of this year, however, he wasobliged to confine himself, almost entirely, to his bed. Being expectedto attend the St. Patrick's Dinner, on the 17th of March, he wrote aletter to the Duke of Kent, who was President, alleging severeindisposition as the cause of his absence. The contents of this letterwere communicated to the company, and produced, as appears by thefollowing 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 unableearlier to thank you for your kind letter, which I received whilepresiding at the festive board; but I can assure you, I was not unmindfulof it then, but announced the afflicting cause of your absence tothe company, who expressed, in a manner that could not bemisunderstood, their continued affection for the writer of it. Itnow only remains for me to assure you, that I appreciate as I ought thesentiments of attachment it contains for me, and which will ever be mostcordially returned by him, who is with the most friendly regard, my dearSheridan,

"Yours faithfully,

"The Right Hon. R. B. Sheridan.

"EDWARD."

The following letter to him at this time from his elder sister will beread with interest:—

"MY DEAR BROTHER,

"Dublin, May 9, 1816.

"I am very, very sorry you are ill; but I trust in God your naturallystrong constitution will retrieve all, and that I shall soon have thesatisfaction of hearing that you are in a fair way of recovery. I wellknow the nature of your complaint, that it is extremely painful, but ifproperly treated, and no doubt you have the best advice, not dangerous. Iknow a lady now past seventy four, who many years since was attacked witha similar complaint, and is now as well as most persons of her time oflife. Where poulticing is necessary, I have known oatmeal used with thebest effect. Forgive, dear brother, this officious zeal. Your son Thomastold me he felt obliged to me for not prescribing for him. I did not,because in his case I thought it would be ineffectual; in yours I havereason to hope the contrary. I am very glad to hear of the good effectchange of climate has made in him;—I took a great liking to him; therewas something kind in his manner that won upon my affections. Of your sonCharles I hear the most delightful accounts:—that he has an excellentand cultivated understanding, and a heart as good. May he be a blessingto you, and a compensation for much you have endured! That I do not knowhim, that I have not seen you, (so early and so long the object of myaffection,) for so many years, has not been my fault; but I have everconsidered it as a drawback upon a situation not otherwise unfortunate;for, to use the words of Goldsmith, I have endeavored to 'draw uponcontent for the deficiencies of fortune;' and truly I have had someemployment in that way, for considerable have been our worldlydisappointments. But those are not the worst evils of life, and we havegood children, which is its first blessing. I have often told you my sonTom bore a strong resemblance to you, when I loved you preferably to anything the world contained. This, which was the case with him in childhoodand 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 greatdifference. At that period of existence, when the temper, morals, andpropensities are formed, Tom had a mother who watched over his health,his well-being, and every part of education in which a female could beuseful. You had lost a mother who would have cherished you, whosetalents you inherited, who would have softened the asperity of ourfather's temper, and probably have prevented his unaccountablepartialities. You have always shown a noble independence of spirit, thatthe pecuniary difficulties you often had to encounter could not induceyou to forego. As a public man, you have been, like the motto of theLefanu family, 'Sine macula,' and I am persuaded had you not tooearly been thrown upon the world, and alienated from your family, youwould have been equally good as a private character. My son is eminentlyso. * * *

"Do, dear brother, send me one line to tell me you are better, andbelieve me, most affectionately,

"Yours,

"ALICIA LEEANU."

While death was thus gaining fast on Sheridan, the miseries of his lifewere thickening around him also; nor did the last corner, in which he nowlay down to die, afford him any asylum from the clamors of his legalpursuers. Writs and executions came in rapid succession, and bailiffs atlength gained possession of his house. It was about the beginning of Maythat Lord Holland, on being informed by Mr. Rogers, (who was one of thevery few that watched the going out of this great light with interest,)of the dreary situation in which his old friend was lying, paid him avisit one evening, in company with Mr. Rogers, and by the cordiality,suavity, and cheerfulness of his conversation, shed a charm round thatchamber of sickness, which, perhaps, no other voice but his own couldhave imparted.

Sheridan was, I believe, sincerely attached to Lord Holland, in whom hesaw transmitted the same fine qualities, both of mind and heart, which,notwithstanding occasional appearances to the contrary, he had neverceased to love and admire in his great relative;—the same ardor forRight and impatience of Wrong—the same mixture of wisdom and simplicity,so tempering each other, as to make the simplicity refined and the wisdomunaffected—the same gentle magnanimity of spirit, intolerant only oftyranny and injustice—and, in addition to all this, a range and vivacityof conversation, entirely his own, which leaves no subject untouched orunadorned, but is, (to borrow a fancy of Dryden,) "as the Morning of theMind," bringing new objects and images successively into view, andscattering its own fresh light over all. Such a visit, therefore, couldnot fail to be soothing and gratifying to Sheridan; and, on parting, bothLord Holland and Mr. Rogers comforted him with the assurance that somesteps should be taken to ward 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 afflicting note upon histable:—

"Saville-Row.

"I find things settled so that 150_l_. will remove all difficulty. Iam absolutely undone and broken-hearted. I shall negotiate for the Playssuccessfully in the course of a week, when all shall be returned. I havedesired Fairbrother to get back the Guarantee 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 thenbetween twelve and one at night; but Mr. Rogers and I walked down toSaville-Row together to assure ourselves that the threatened arrest hadnot yet been put in execution. A servant spoke to us out of the area, andsaid that all was safe for the night, but that it was intended, inpursuance of this new proceeding, to paste bills over the front of thehouse next day.

On the following morning I was early with Mr. Rogers, and willinglyundertook to be the bearer of a draft for 150_l_. [Footnote: LordHolland afterwards insisted upon paying the half of this sum,—which wasnot the first of the same amount that my liberal friend, Mr. Rogers, hadadvanced for Sheridan.] to Saville-Row. I found Mr. Sheridan good-naturedand cordial as ever; and though he was then within a few weeks of hisdeath, his voice had not lost its fulness or strength, nor was thatlustre, for which his eyes were so remarkable, diminished. He showed,too, his usual sanguineness of disposition in speaking of the price thathe expected for his Dramatic Works, and of the certainty he felt of beingable to arrange all his affairs, if his complaint would but suffer him toleave his bed. In the following month, his powers began rapidly to failhim;—his stomach was completely worn out, and could no longer bear anykind 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 oneof his Noble or Royal friends ever called at his door, or even sent toinquire after him!

About this period Doctor Bain received the following note from Mr.
Vaughan:—

"MY DEAR SIR,

"An apology in a case of humanity is scarcely necessary, besides I havethe honor of a slight acquaintance with you. A friend of mine, hearing ofour friend Sheridan's forlorn situation, and that he has neithermoney nor credit for a few comforts, has employed me to convey a smallsum for his use, through such channel as I think right. I can devise nonebetter 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_l_. Perhaps asmuch more might be had if it will be conducive to a good end—of courseyou must feel it is not for the purpose of satisfying troublesome people.I will say more to you if you will do me the honor of a call in your wayto 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 passageto you."

In his interview with Dr. Bain, Mr. Vaughan stated, that the sum thusplaced at his disposal was, in all, 200_l_.; [Footnote: Mr. Vaughandid not give Doctor Bain to understand that he was authorized to gobeyond the 200_l_.; but, in a conversation which I had with him ayear or two after, in contemplation of this Memoir, he told me that afurther supply was intended.] and the proposition being submitted to Mrs.Sheridan, that lady, after consulting with some of her relatives,returned for answer that, as there was a sufficiency of means to provideall that was necessary for her husband's comfort, as well as her own, shebegged leave to decline the offer.

Mr. Vaughan always said, that the donation, thus meant to be doled out,came from a Royal hand;—but this is hardly credible. It would be safer,perhaps, to let the suspicion rest upon that gentleman's memory, ofhaving indulged his own benevolent disposition in this disguise, than tosuppose it possible that so scanty and reluctant a benefaction was thesole mark of attention accorded by a "gracious Prince and Master"[Footnote: See Sheridan's Letter, page 268.] to the last, death-bed wantsof one of the most accomplished and faithful servants, that Royalty everyet raised or ruined by its smiles. When the philosopher Anaxagoras laydying for want of sustenance, his great pupil, Pericles, sent him a sumof money. "Take it back," said Anaxagoras—"if he wished to keep the lampalive, he ought to have administered the oil before!"

In the mean time, the clamors and incursions of creditors increased. Asheriff's officer at length arrested the dying man in his bed, and wasabout to carry him off, in his blankets, to a spunging-house, when DoctorBain interfered—and, by threatening the officer with the responsibilityhe must incur, if, as was but too probable, his prisoner should expire onthe 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 situation of Sheridan, by anarticle that appeared in the Morning Post,—written, as I understand, bya gentleman, who, though on no very cordial terms with him, forgot everyother feeling in a generous pity for his fate, and in honest indignationagainst those who now deserted him. "Oh delay not," said the writer,without naming the person to whom he alluded—"delay not to draw asidethe curtain within which that proud spirit hides its sufferings." He thenadds, with a striking anticipation of what afterwards happened:—"Preferministering in the chamber of sickness to mustering at

'The splendid sorrows that adorn the hearse;'

I say, Life and Succor against Westminster-Abbey and a
Funeral!"

This article produced a strong and general sensation, and was reprintedin the same paper the following day. Its effect, too, was soon visible inthe calls made at Sheridan's door, and in the appearance of such names asthe Duke of York, the Duke of Argyle, &c. among the visitors. But it wasnow too late;—the spirit, that these unavailing tributes might once havecomforted, was now fast losing the consciousness of every thing earthly,but pain. After a succession of shivering fits, he fell into a state ofexhaustion, 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 readprayers by his bed-side; and on Sunday, the seventh of July, in thesixty-fifth year of his age, he died.

On the following Saturday the Funeral took place;—his remains havingbeen previously removed from Saville-Row to the house of his friend, Mr.Peter Moore, in Great George-Street, Westminster. From thence, at oneo'clock, the procession moved on foot to the Abbey, where, in the onlyspot in Poet's Corner that remained unoccupied, the body was interred;and the following simple inscription marks its resting-place:—

"RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN,

BORN, 1751,

DIED, 7th JULY, 1816.

THIS MARBLE IS THE TRIBUTE OF AN ATTACHED

FRIEND,

PETER MOORE."

Seldom has there been seen such an array of rank as graced this Funeral.[Footnote: It was well remarked by a French Journal, in contrasting thepenury of Sheridan's latter years with the splendor of his Funeral, that"France is the place for a man of letters to live in, and England theplace for him to die in."] The Pall-bearers were the Duke of Bedford, theEarl of Lauderdale, Earl Mulgrave, the Lord Bishop of London, LordHolland, and Lord Spencer. Among the mourners were His Royal Highness theDuke of York, His Royal Highness the Duke of Sussex, the Duke of Argyle,the Marquisses of Anglesea and Tavistock; the Earls of Thanet, Jersey,Harrington, Besborough, Mexborough, Rosslyn, and Yarmouth; Lords GeorgeCavendish and Robert Spencer; Viscounts Sidmouth, Granville, andDuncannon; Lords Rivers, Erskine, and Lynedoch; the Lord Mayor; RightHon. G. Canning and W. W. Pole, &c., &c. [Footnote: In the train of allthis phalanx of Dukes, Marquisses, Earls, Viscounts, Barons, Honorables,and Right Honorables, Princes of the Blood Royal, and First Officers ofthe State, it was not a little interesting to see, walking humbly, sideby side, the only two men whose friendship had not waited for the call ofvanity to display itself—Dr. Bain and Mr. Rogers.]

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 anylife remained in him? Where were they all, but a few weeks before, whentheir interposition might have saved his heart from breaking,—or whenthe zeal, now wasted on the grave, might have soothed and comforted thedeath-bed? This is a subject on which it is difficult to speak withpatience. If the man was unworthy of the commonest offices of humanitywhile he lived, why all this parade of regret and homage over his tomb?

There appeared some verses at the time, which, however intemperate intheir satire and careless in their style, came, evidently, warm from theheart of the writer, and contained sentiments to which, even in hiscooler moments, he needs not hesitate to subscribe:—

"Oh it sickens the heart to see bosoms so hollow,
And friendships 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!"

The anonymous writer thus characterizes the talents of Sheridan:—

"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 fancy, the gay or the grave,
Was as rapid, as deep, and as brilliant a tide,
As ever bore Freedom aloft on its wave!"

* * * * *

Though a perusal of the foregoing pages has, I trust, sufficientlyfurnished the reader with materials out of which to form his own estimateof the character of Sheridan, a few general remarks may, at parting, beallowed me—rather with a view to convey the impressions left uponmyself, than with any presumptuous hope of influencing the deductions ofothers.

In considering the intellectual powers of this extraordinary man, thecirc*mstance that first strikes us is the very scanty foundation ofinstruction, upon which he contrived to raise himself to such eminenceboth as a writer and a politician. It is true, in the line of authorshiphe pursued, erudition was not so much wanting; and his wit, like thelaurel 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 atime when habits of business and a knowledge of details were less lookedfor in public men than they are at present, and when the House of Commonswas, for various reasons, a more open play-ground for eloquence and wit.The great increase of public business, since then, has necessarily made aconsiderable change in this respect. Not only has the time of theLegislature become too precious to be wasted upon the mere gymnastics ofrhetoric, but even those graces, with which true Oratory surrounds herstatements, are but impatiently borne, where the statement itself is theprimary and pressing object of the hearer. [Footnote: The new light thatas been thrown on Political Science may also, perhaps, be assigned as areason for this evident revolution in Parliamentary taste. "Truth." saysLord Bacon, "is a naked and open daylight, that doth not show themasques, and mummeries, and triumphs of the present world half so statelyand daintily as candle-lights;"—and there can be little doubt that theclearer and important truths are made, the less controversy they willexcite among fair and rational men, and the less passion and fancyaccordingly can eloquence infuse into the discussion of them. Mathematicshave produced no quarrels among mankind—it is by the mysterious and thevague, that temper as well as imagination is most roused. In proof ofthis while the acknowledged clearness almost to truism, which the leadingprinciples of Political Science have attained, has tended to simplify andtame down the activities of eloquence on that subject. There is stillanother arena left, in the science of the Law, where the sameillumination of truth has not yet penetrated, and where Oratory willstill continue to work her perplexing spells, till Common Sense and theplain principles of Utility shall find their way there also to weakenthem.] Burke, we know, was, even for his own time, too much addicted towhat falconers would call raking, or flying wide of his game; butthere was hardly, perhaps, one among his great contemporaries, who, ifbeginning his career at present, would not find it, in some degree,necessary to conform his style to the taste for business andmatter-of-fact that is prevalent. Mr. Pitt would be compelled to curtailthe march of his sentences—Mr. Fox would learn to repeat himself lesslavishly—nor would Mr. Sheridan venture to enliven a question ofevidence by a long and pathetic appeal to Filial Piety.

In addition to this change in the character and taste of the House ofCommons, which, while it has lowered the value of some of thequalifications possessed by Sheridan, has created a demand for others ofa more useful but less splendid kind, which his education and habits oflife would have rendered less easily attainable by him, we must take alsointo account the prodigious difference 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 lagbehind with impunity, and which requires nothing less than the versatileand encyclopaedic 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 inboth lines cost him. Of this the reader has seen some curious proofs inthe preceding pages. Though the papers left behind by him have addednothing to the stock of his chef-d'oeuvres, they have given us aninsight into his manner of producing his great works, which is, perhaps,the next most interesting thing to the works themselves. Though no newstar has been discovered, the history of the formation of those wealready possess, and of the gradual process by which they were brought"firm to retain their gathered beams," has, as in the instance of TheSchool for Scandal, been most interestingly unfolded to us.

The same marks of labor are discoverable throughout the whole of hisParliamentary career. He never made a speech of any moment, of which thesketch, more or less detailed, has not been found among his papers—withthe showier passages generally written two or three times over, (oftenwithout any material change in their form,) upon small detached pieces ofpaper, or on cards. To such minutiae of effect did he attend, that I havefound, in more than one instance, a memorandum made of the precise placein which the words "Good God, Mr. Speaker," were to be introduced. Thesepreparatory sketches are continued down to his latest displays; and it isobservable that when from the increased derangement of his affairs, hehad no longer leisure or collectedness enough to prepare, he ceased tospeak.

The only time he could have found for this pre-arrangement of histhoughts, (of which few, from the apparent idleness of his life,suspected him,) must have been during the many hours of the day that heremained in bed,—when, frequently, while the world gave him credit forbeing asleep, he was employed in laying the frame-work of his wit andeloquence for the evening.

That this habit of premeditation was not altogether owing to a want ofquickness, appears from the power and liveliness of his replies inParliament, and the vivacity of some of his retorts in conversation.[Footnote: His best bon mots are in the memory of every one. Amongthose less known, perhaps, is his answer to General T——, relative tosome difference of opinion between them on the War in Spain:—"Well,T——, are you still on your high horse?"—"If I was on a horse before, Iam upon an elephant now." "No, T——, you were upon an ass before,now you are upon a mule."

Some mention having been made in his presence of a Tax upon Milestones.Sheridan said, "such a tax would be unconstitutional,—as they were arace that could not meet to remonstrate."

As an instance of his humor, I have been told that, in some country-housewhere he was on a visit, an elderly maiden lady having set her heart onbeing his companion in a walk, he excused himself at first on account ofthe badness of the weather. Soon afterwards, however, the ladyintercepted him in an attempt to escape without her:—"Well," she said,"it has cleared up, I see." "Why, yes," he answered, "it has cleared upenough for one, but not for two."] The labor, indeed, whichhe found necessary for his public displays, was, in a great degree, thecombined effect of his ignorance and his taste;—the one rendering himfearful of committing himself on the matter of his task, and theother making him fastidious and hesitating as to the manner of it.I cannot help thinking, however, that there must have been, also, adegree of natural slowness in the first movements of his mind upon anytopic; and, that, like those animals which remain gazing upon their preybefore they seize it, he found it necessary to look intently at hissubject for some time, before he was able to make the last, quick springthat mastered it.

Among the proofs of this dependence of his fancy upon time and thoughtfor its development, may be mentioned his familiar letters, as far astheir fewness enables us to judge. Had his wit been a "fruit, that wouldfall without shaking," we should, in these communications at least, findsome casual windfalls of it. But, from the want of sufficient time tosearch and cull, he seems to have given up, in despair, all thoughts ofbeing lively in his letters; and accordingly, as the reader must haveobserved in the specimens that have been given, his compositions in thisway are not only unenlivened by any excursions beyond the bounds of merematter of fact, but, from the habit or necessity of taking a certainportion of time for correction, are singularly confused, disjointed, andinelegant in their style.

It is certain that even his bon-mots in society were not always tobe set down to the credit of the occasion; but that frequently, likeskilful priests, he prepared the miracle of the moment before-hand.Nothing, indeed, could be more remarkable than the patience and tact,with which he would wait through a whole evening for the exact moment,when the shaft which he had ready feathered, might be let fly witheffect. There was no effort, either obvious or disguised, to lead to thesubject—no "question detached, (as he himself expresses it,) to draw youinto the ambuscade of his ready-made joke"—and, when the lucky momentdid arrive, the natural and accidental manner in which he would let thistreasured sentence fall from his lips, considerably added to theastonishment and the charm. So bright a thing, produced so easily, seemedlike the delivery of Wieland's [Footnote: See Sotheby's admirableTranslation of Oberon, Canto 9.] Amanda in a dream;—and his own apparentunconsciousness of the value of what he said might have deceived dullpeople 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 hewould remain inert in conversation, and even taciturn, for hours, andthen suddenly come out with some brilliant sally, which threw a lightover the whole evening, and was carried away in the memories of allpresent. Nor must it be supposed that in the intervals, either before orafter these flashes, he ceased to be agreeable; on the contrary, he had agrace and good nature in his manner, which gave a charm to even his mostordinary sayings,—and there was, besides, that ever-speaking lustre inhis eye, which made it impossible, even when he was silent, to forget whohe was.

A curious instance of the care with which he treasured up the felicitiesof his wit, appears in the use he made of one of those epigrammaticpassages, which the reader may remember among the memorandums for hisComedy of Affectation, and which, in its first form, ran thus:—"Hecertainly has a great deal of fancy, and a very good memory; but, with aperverse ingenuity, he employs these qualities as no other persondoes—for he employs his fancy in his narratives, and keeps hisrecollection for his wit:—when he makes his jokes, you applaud theaccuracy of his memory, and 'tis only when he states his facts that youadmire the flights of his imagination." After many efforts to expressthis thought more concisely, and to reduce the language of it to thatcondensed and elastic state, in which alone it gives force to theprojectiles of wit, he kept the passage by him patiently someyears,—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, withthe most extemporaneous air, he brought it forth, in the followingcompact and pointed form:—"The Right Honorable Gentleman is indebted tohis memory for his jests, and to his imagination for his facts."

His Political Character stands out so fully in these pages, that it isneedless, by any comments, to attempt to raise it into stronger relief.If to watch over the Rights of the Subject, and guard them against theencroachments of Power, be, even in safe and ordinary times, a task fullof usefulness and honor, how much more glorious to have stood sentinelover the same sacred trust, through a period so trying as that with whichSheridan had to struggle—when Liberty itself had become suspected andunpopular—when Authority had succeeded in identifying patriotism withtreason, and when the few remaining and deserted friends of Freedom werereduced to take their stand on a narrowing isthmus, between Anarchy onone side, and the angry incursions of Power on the other. How manfully hemaintained his ground in a position so critical, the annals of Englandand of the Champions of her Constitution will long testify. The trulynational spirit, too, with which, when that struggle was past, and thedangers to liberty from without seemed greater than any from within, heforgot all past differences, in the one common cause of Englishmen, and,while others "gave but the left hand to the Country," [Footnote:His own words] proffered her both of his, stamped a seal ofsincerity on his public conduct, which, in the eyes of all England,authenticated it as genuine patriotism.

To his own party, it is true, his conduct presented a very differentphasis; and if implicit partisanship were the sole merit of a public man,his movements, at this and other junctures, were far too independent andunharnessed to lay claim to it. But, however useful may be the bond ofParty, there are occasions that supersede it; and, in all such deviationsfrom the fidelity which it enjoins, the two questions to be askedare—were they, as regarded the Public, right? were they, as regarded theindividual himself, unpurchased? To the former question, in the instanceof Sheridan, the whole country responded in the affirmative; and to thelatter, his account with the Treasury, from first to last, is asufficient answer.

Even, however, on the score of fidelity to Party, when we recollect thathe more than once submitted to some of the worst martyrdoms which itimposes—that of sharing in the responsibility of opinions from which hedissented, and suffering by the ill consequences of measures againstwhich he had protested;—when we call to mind, too, that during theAdministration of Mr. Addington, though agreeing wholly with the Ministryand differing with the Whigs, he even then refused to profit by aposition so favorable to his interests, and submitted, like certainreligionists, from a point of honor, to suffer for a faith in which hedid not believe—it seems impossible not to concede that even to theobligations of Party he was as faithful as could be expected from aspirit that so far outgrew its limits, and, in paying the tax of fidelitywhile he asserted the freedom of dissent, showed that he could sacrificeevery thing to it, except his opinion. Through all these occasionalvariations, too, he remained a genuine Whig to the last; and, as I haveheard one of his own party happily express it, was "like pure gold, thatchanges color in the fire, but comes out unaltered."

The transaction in 1812, relative to the Household, was, as I havealready said, the least defensible part of his public life. But it shouldbe recollected hove broken he was, both in mind and body, at thatperiod;—his resources from the Theatre at an end,—the shelter ofParliament about to be taken from over his head also,—and old age andsickness coming on, as every hope and comfort vanished. In that wreck ofall around him, the friendship of Carlton-House was the last asylum leftto his pride and his hope; and that even character itself should, in atoo zealous moment, have been one of the sacrifices offered up at theshrine that protected him, is a subject more of deep regret than ofwonder. The poet Cowley, in speaking of the unproductiveness of thosepursuits connected with Wit and Fancy, says beautifully—

"Where such fairies once have danc'd, no grass will ever grow;"

but, unfortunately, thorns will grow there;—and he who walksunsteadily among such thorns as now beset the once enchanted path ofSheridan, ought not, after all, to be very severely criticised.

His social qualities were, unluckily for himself but too attractive. Inaddition to his powers of conversation, there was a well-bred good-naturein his manner, as well as a deference to the remarks and opinions ofothers, the want of which very often, in distinguished wits, offends theself-love of their hearers, and makes even the dues of admiration thatthey levy a sort of "Droit de Seigneur," paid with unwillingnessand distaste.

No one was so ready and cheerful in promoting the amusem*nts of acountry-house; and on a rural excursion he was always the soul of theparty. His talent at dressing a little dish was often put in requisitionon such occasions, and an Irish stew was that on which he particularlyplumed himself. Some friends of his recall with delight a day of thiskind which they passed with him, when he made the whole party act overthe Battle of the Pyramids on Marsden Moor, and ordered "Captain" Creeveyand others upon various services, against the cows and donkeys entrenchedin the ditches. Being of so playful a disposition himself, it was notwonderful that he should take such pleasure in the society of children. Ihave been told, as doubly characteristic of him, that he has often, atMr. Monckton's, kept a chaise and four waiting half the day for him atthe door, while he romped with the children.

In what are called Ver de Sociétié, or drawing-room verses, hetook great delight; and there remain among his papers several sketches ofthese trifles. I once heard him repeat in a ballroom, some verses whichhe had lately written on Waltzing, and of which I remember the following:

"With tranquil step, and timid, downcast glance,
Behold the well-pair'd couple now advance.
In such sweet posture our first Parents mov'd,
While, hand in hand, through 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."

[Footnote: This gentleman, whose name suits so aptly as legal authorityon the subject of Waltzing, was at the time these verses were written,well known in the dancing circles.]

He had a sort of hereditary fancy for difficult trifling inpoetry;—particularly for that sort, which consists in rhyming to thesame word through a long string of couplets, till every rhyme that thelanguage supplies for it is exhausted, [Footnote: Some verses by GeneralFitzpatrick on Lord Holland's father are the best specimen that I know ofthis sort of Scherzo.] The following are specimens from a poem ofthis kind, which he wrote on the loss of a lady's trunk:—

"MY TRUNK!

"(To Anne.)

"Have you heard, my deer Anne, how my spirits are sunk?
Have you heard of the cause? Oh, the loss of my Trunk!
From exertion or firmness I've never yet slunk;
But my fortitude's gone with the loss of my Trunk!
Stout Lucy, my maid, is a damsel of spunk;
Yet she weeps night and day for the loss of my Trunk!
I'd better 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 nune's put for tune;
But, tune and nune both, must I grieve for my Trunk!
Huge leaves of that great commentator, old Brunck,
Perhaps was the paper that lin'd my poor Trunk!
But my rhymes are all out;—for I dare not use st—k; [1]
'Twould shock Sheridan more than the loss of my Trunk!"

[Footnote 1: He had a particular horror of this word.]

From another of these trifles, (which, no doubt, produced much gaiety atthe 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 Jane,
Nine rolls I eat, in hopes to gain
The roll that might have fall'n to Jane," &c.

Another written on a Mr. Bigg, contains some ludicrous couplets:—

"I own he's not fam'd for a reel or a jig,
Tom Sheridan there surpasses Tom Bigg.—
For lam'd in 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!
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 Bigg."

A few more of these light productions remain among his papers, but theirwit is gone with those for whom they were written;—the wings of Time"eripuere jocos."

Of a very different description are the following striking and spiritedfragments, (which ought to have been mentioned in a former part of thiswork,) written by him, apparently, about the year 1794, and addressed tothe Naval heroes of that period, to console them for the neglect theyexperienced from the Government, while ribands and titles were lavishedon the Whig Seceders:—

"Never mind them, brave black Dick,
Though they've played thee such a trick—
Damn their ribands and their garters,
Get you to your post and quarters.
Look upon the azure sea,
There's a Sailor's Taffety!
Mark the Zodiac's radiant bow,
That's a collar fit for HOWE!—
And, then P—tl—d's brighter far,
The Pole shall furnish you a Star! [1]
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!
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.'"
* * * * *
[Footnote 1: This reminds me of a happy application which he made, upon a
subsequent occasion, of two lines of Dryden:—

"When men like Erskine go astray,
The stars are more in fault than they."]

It has been seen, by a letter of his sister already given, that, whenyoung, he was generally accounted handsome; but, in later years, his eyeswere the only testimonials of beauty that remained to him. It was,indeed, in the upper part of his face that the Spirit of the man chieflyreigned;—the dominion of the world and the Senses being rather stronglymarked out in the lower. In his person, he was above the middle size, andhis general make was, as I have already said, robust and wellproportioned. It is remarkable that his arms, though of powerfulstrength, were thin, and appeared by no means muscular. His hands weresmall and delicate; and the following couplet, written on a cast from oneof 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 habits, it may not be uninteresting to know that his hours ofcomposition, as long as he continued to be an author, were at night, andthat he required a profusion of lights around him while he wrote. Wine,too, was one of his favorite helps to inspiration;—"If the thought, (hewould say,) is slow to come, a glass of good wine encourages it, and,when it does come, a glass of good wine rewards it."

Having taken a cursory view of his Literary, Political, and Socialqualities, it remains for me to say a few words upon that most importantpoint of all, his Moral character.

There are few persons, as we have seen, to whose kind and affectionateconduct, in some of the most interesting relations of domestic life, somany strong and honorable testimonies remain. The pains he took to winback the estranged feelings of his father, and the filial tenderness withwhich he repaid long years of parental caprice, show a heart that had, atleast, set out by the right road, however, in after years, it may havemissed the way. The enthusiastic love which his sister bore him, andretained unblighted by distance or neglect, is another proof of theinfluence of his amiable feelings, at that period of life when he was asyet unspoiled by the world. We have seen the romantic fondness which hepreserved towards the first Mrs. Sheridan, even while doing his 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 which he continuedto 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, andher devoted attentions beside his death-bed showed that the essentialpart of the feeling still remained.

To claim an exemption for frailties and irregularities on the score ofgenius, while there are such names as Milton and Newton on record, wereto be blind to the example which these and other great men have left, ofthe grandest intellectual powers combined with the most virtuous lives.But, for the bias given early to the mind by education and circ*mstances,even the least charitable may be inclined to make large allowances. Wehave seen how idly the young days of Sheridan were wasted—how soon hewas left, (in the words of the Prophet,) "to dwell carelessly ," and withwhat an undisciplined temperament he was thrown upon the world, to meetat every step that never-failing spring of temptation, which, like thefatal fountain in the Garden of Armida, sparkles up for ever in thepathway of such a man:—

"Un fonte sorge in lei, che vaghe e monde
Ha l'acque 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, butformed a part of the romance of his. The very attractions of his wifeincreased his danger, by doubling, as it were the power of the world overhim, and leading him astray by her light as well as by his own. Had histalents, even then, been subjected to the manège of a profession,there was still a chance that business, and the round of regularity whichit requires, might have infused some spirit of order into his life. Butthe Stage—his glory and his ruin—opened upon him; and the property ofwhich it made him master was exactly of that treacherous kind which notonly deceives a man himself, but enables him to deceive others, and thuscombined all that a person of his carelessness and ambition had most todread. An uncertain income, which, by eluding calculation, gives anexcuse for improvidence, [Footnote: How feelingly aware he was of thisgreat source of all his misfortunes appears from a passage in the ablespeech which he delivered before the Chancellor, as Counsel in his owncase, in the year 1799 or 1800:—

"It is a great disadvantage, relatively speaking, to any man, andespecially to a very careless, and a very sanguine man, to have possessedan uncertain and fluctuating income. That disadvantage is greatlyincreased, if the person so circ*mstanced has conceived himself to be insome degree entitled to presume that, by the exertion of his own talents,he may at pleasure increase that income—thereby becoming induced to makepromises to himself which he may afterwards fail to fulfil.

"Occasional excess and frequent unpunctuality will be the naturalconsequences of such a situation. But, my Lord, to exceed an ascertainedand limited income, I hold to be a very different matter. In thatsituation I have placed myself, (not since the present unexpectedcontention arose, for since then I would have adopted no arrangements,)but months since, by my Deed of Trust to Mr. Adam, and in that situationI shall remain until every debt on earth, in which the Theatre or I amconcerned, shall be fully and fairly discharged. Till then I will live onwhat remains to me—preserving that spirit of undaunted independence,which, both as a public and a private man, I trust, I have hithertomaintained."] and, still more fatal, a facility of raising money, bywhich the lesson, that the pressure of distress brings with it, is evadedtill it comes too late to be of use—such was the dangerous power putinto his hands, in his six-and-twentieth year, and amidst theintoxication of as deep and quick draughts of fame as ever young authorquaffed. Scarcely had the zest of this excitement begun to wear off, whenhe was suddenly transported into another sphere, where successes stillmore flattering to his vanity awaited him. Without any increase of means,he became the companion and friend of the first Nobles and Princes, andpaid the usual tax of such unequal friendships, by, in the end, losingthem and ruining himself. The vicissitudes of a political life, and thosedeceitful vistas into office that were for ever opening on his party,made his hopes as fluctuating and uncertain as his means, and encouragedthe same delusive calculations on both. He seemed, at every new turn ofaffairs, to be on the point of redeeming himself; and the confidence ofothers in his resources was no less fatal to him than his own, as it butincreased the facilities of ruin that surrounded him.

Such a career as this—so shaped towards wrong, so inevitably devious—itis impossible to regard otherwise than with the most charitableallowances. It was one long paroxysm of excitement—no pause forthought—no inducements to prudence—the attractions all drawing thewrong way, and a Voice, like that which Bossuet describes, cryinginexorably from behind him "On, on!" [Footnote: "La loi est prononcee; ilfaut avancer toujours. Je voudrois retourner sur mes pas; 'Marche,Marche!' Un poids invincible nous entraine; il faut sans cesse avancervers le precipice. On se console pourtant, parce que de tems en tems onrencontre des objets qui nous divertissent, des eaux courantes, desfleurs qui passent. On voudroit arreter; 'Marche, Marche!'"—Sermonsur la Resurrection.] Instead of wondering at the wreck that followedall this, our only surprise should be, that so much remained uninjuredthrough the trial,—that his natural good feelings should have struggledto the last with his habits, and his sense of all that was right inconduct so long survived his ability to practise it.

Numerous, however, as were the causes that concurred to disorganize hismoral character, in his pecuniary embarrassment lay the source of thoseblemishes, that discredited him most in the eyes of the world. He mighthave indulged his vanity and his passions, like others, with but littleloss of reputation, if the consequence of these indulgences had not beenobtruded upon observation in the forbidding form of debts and distresses.So much did his friend Richardson, who thoroughly knew him, consider hiswhole character to have been influenced by the straitened circ*mstancesin which he was placed, that he used often to say, "If an enchantercould, by the touch of his wand, endow Sheridan suddenly with fortune, hewould instantly transform him into a most honorable and moral man." Assome corroboration of this opinion, I must say that, in the course of theinquiries which my task of biographer imposed upon me, I have found allwho were ever engaged in pecuniary dealings with him, not excepting thosewho suffered most severely by his irregularities, (among which class Imay cite the respected name of Mr. Hammersley,) unanimous in expressingtheir conviction that he always meant fairly and honorably; andthat to the inevitable pressure of circ*mstances alone, any failure thatoccurred in his engagements was to be imputed.

There cannot, indeed, be a stronger exemplification of the truth, that awant of regularity [Footnote: His improvidence in every thing connectedwith money was most remarkable. He would frequently be obliged to stop onhis journies, for want of the means of getting on, and to remain livingexpensively at an inn, till a remittance could reach him. His letters tothe treasurer of the theatre on these occasions were generally headedwith 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 ofunopened letters that lay upon the table, and, seeing one or two withcoronets on the seals, said to Mr. Westley, the treasurer, who waspresent, "I see we are all treated alike." Mr. Westley then informed himthat he had once found, on looking over this table, a letter which he hadhimself sent, a few weeks before, to Mr. Sheridan, enclosing a ten-poundnote, to release him from some inn, but which Sheridan, having raised thesupplies in some other way, had never thought of opening. The prudenttreasurer took away the letter, and reserved the enclosure for somefuture exigence.

Among instances of his inattention to letters, the following ismentioned. Going one day to the banking-house, where he was accustomed toreceive his salary, as Receiver of Cornwall, and where they sometimesaccommodated him with small sums before the regular time of payment, heasked, with all due humility, whether they could oblige him with the loanof twenty pounds. "Certainly, Sir," said the clerk,—"would you like anymore—fifty, or a hundred?" Sheridan, all smiles and gratitude, answeredthat a hundred pounds would be of the greatest convenience to him."Perhaps you would like to take two hundred, or three?" said the clerk.At every increase of the sum, the surprise of the borrower increased."Have not you then received our letter?" said the clerk;—on which itturned out that, in consequence of the falling in of some fine, a sum oftwelve hundred pounds had been lately placed to the credit of theReceiver-General, and that, from not having opened the letter written toapprise him, he had been left in ignorance of his good luck.] becomes,itself, a vice, from the manifold evils to which it leads, than the wholehistory of Mr. Sheridan's pecuniary transactions. So far from neverpaying his debts, as is often asserted of him, he was, in fact, alwayspaying;—but in such a careless and indiscriminate manner, and with solittle justice to himself or others, as often to leave the respectablecreditor to suffer for his patience, while the fraudulent dun was paidtwo or three times over. Never examining accounts nor referring toreceipts, he seemed as if, (in imitation of his own Charles, preferringgenerosity to justice,) he wished to make paying as like as possible togiving. Interest, too, with its usual, silent accumulation, swelled everydebt; and I have found several instances among his accounts where theinterest upon a small sum had been suffered to increase till it outgrewthe principal;—"minima pars ipsa puella sui."

Notwithstanding all this, however, his debts were by no means soconsiderable as has been supposed. In the year 1808, he empowered 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 dischargeof all claims upon him. These gentlemen, on examination, found that hisbona fide debts were about ten thousand pounds, while his apparentdebts amounted to five or six times as much. Whether fromconscientiousness or from pride, however, he would not suffer any of theclaims to be contested, but said that the demands were all fair, and mustbe paid just as they were stated;—though it was well known that many ofthem 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 balance due onthe sale of his theatrical property was paid him, in a certain number ofShares. When applied to by any creditor, he would give him one of theseShares, and allowing his claim entirely on his own showing, leave him topay himself out of it, and refund the balance. Thus irregular at alltimes, even when most wishing to be right, he deprived honesty itself ofits merit and advantages; and, where he happened to be just, left itdoubtful, (as Locke says of those religious people, who believe right bychance, without examination,) "whether even the luckiness of the accidentexcused the irregularity of the proceeding." [Footnote: Chapter on Reason]

The consequence, however, of this continual paying was that the number ofhis creditors gradually diminished, and that ultimately the amount of hisdebts was, taking all circ*mstances into account, by no meansconsiderable. Two years after his death it appeared by a list made up byhis Solicitor from claims sent in to him, in consequence of anadvertisem*nt in the newspapers, that the bonâ fide debts amountedto about five thousand five hundred pounds.

If, therefore, we consider his pecuniary irregularities in reference tothe injury that they inflicted upon others, the quantum of evil for whichhe is responsible becomes, after all, not so great. There are manypersons in the enjoyment of fair characters in the world, who would behappy to have no deeper encroachment upon the property of others toanswer for; and who may well wonder by what unlucky management Sheridancould contrive to found so extensive a reputation for bad pay upon sosmall an amount of debt.

Let it never, too, be forgotten, in estimating this part of hischaracter, that had he been less consistent and disinterested in hispublic conduct, he might have commanded the means of being independentand respectable in private. He might have died a rich apostate, insteadof closing a life of patriotism in beggary. He might, (to use a fineexpression of his own,) have 'hid his head in a coronet,' instead ofearning for it but the barren wreath of public gratitude. While,therefore, we admire the great sacrifice that he made, let us be tolerantto the errors and imprudences which it entailed upon him; and,recollecting how vain it is to look for any thing unalloyed in thisworld, rest satisfied with the Martyr, without requiring, also, the Saint.

THE END.