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Memoirs of the Life of Rt. Hon. Richard Brinsley Sheridan Vol 2

T >> Thomas Moore >> Memoirs of the Life of Rt. Hon. Richard Brinsley Sheridan Vol 2




"We remained ten days after the event took place at Bristol; and on the
7th instant Mr. Sheridan and Tom, accompanied by all her family (except
Mrs. Linley), Mr. and Mrs. Leigh, Betty Tickell and myself, attended the
dear remains [Footnote: The following striking reflection, which I have
found upon a scrap of paper, in Sheridan's handwriting, was suggested, no
doubt, by his feelings on this occasion--

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

"The day after the sad scene was closed we separated, your brother
choosing to be left by himself with Tom for a day or two. He afterwards
joined us at Bath, where we spent a few days with our friends, the
Leighs. Last Saturday we took leave of them, and on Sunday we arrived at
Isleworth, where with much regret, I left your brother to his own
melancholy reflections, with no other companions but his two children, in
whom he seems at present entirely wrapped up. He suffered a great deal in
returning the same road, and was most dreadfully agitated on his arrival
at Isleworth. His grief is deep and sincere, and I am sure will be
lasting. He is in very good spirits, and at times is even cheerful, but
the moment he is left alone he feels all the anguish of sorrow and
regret. The dear little girl is the greatest comfort to him:--he cannot
bear to be a moment without her. She thrives amazingly, and is indeed a
charming little creature. Tom behaves with constant and tender attention
to his father:--he laments his dear mother sincerely, and at the time was
violently affected;--but, at his age, the impressions of grief are not
lasting; and his mind is naturally too lively and cheerful to dwell long
on melancholy objects. He is in all respects truly amiable and in many
respects so like his dear, charming mother, that I am sure he will be
ever dear to my heart. I expect to have the pleasure of seeing Mr.
Sheridan again next week, when I hope to find him more composed than when
I took leave of him last Sunday."

To the mention which is made, in this affecting letter, of the father of
Mrs. Sheridan, whose destiny it had been to follow to the grave, within a
few short years, so many of his accomplished children, [Footnote: In 1778
his eldest son Thomas was drowned, while amusing himself in a
pleasure-boat at the seat of the Duke of Ancaster. The pretty lines of
Mrs. Sheridan to his violin are well known. A few years after, Samuel, a
lieutenant in the navy, was carried off by a fever. Miss Maria Linley
died in 1785, and Mrs. Tickell in 1787.

I have erroneously stated, in a former part of this work, that Mr.
William Linley is the only surviving branch of this family;--there is
another brother, Mr. Ozias Linley, still living.] I must add a few
sentences more from another letter of the same lady, which, while they
increase our interest in this amiable and ingenious man, bear testimony
to Sheridan's attaching powers, and prove how affectionate he must have
been to her who was gone, to be thus loved by the father to whom she was
so dear:--

"Poor Mr. Linley has been here among us these two months. He is very much
broke, but is still a very interesting and agreeable companion. I do not
know any one more to be pitied than he is. It is evident that the
recollection of past misfortunes preys on his mind, and he has no comfort
in the surviving part of his family, they being all scattered abroad. Mr.
Sheridan seems more his child than any one of his own, and I believe he
likes being near him and his grandchildren." [Footnote: In the Memoirs of
Mrs. Crouch I find the following anecdote:--"Poor Mr. Linley after the
death of one of his sons, when seated at the harpsichord in Drury-Lane
theatre, in order to accompany the vocal parts of an interesting little
piece taken from Prior's Henry and Emma, by Mr. Tickell, and excellently
represented by Paduer and Miss Farren,--when the tutor of Henry, Mr.
Aikin gave an impressive description of a promising young man, in
speaking of his pupil Henry, the feelings of Mr. Linley could not be
suppressed. His tears fell fast--nor did he weep alone."

In the same work Mrs. Crouch is made to say that, after Miss Maria Linley
died, it was melancholy for her to sing to Mr. Linley, whose tears
continually fell on the keys as he accompanied her; and if, in the course
of her profession, she was obliged to practise a song which he had been
accustomed to hear his lost daughter sing, the similarity of their
manners and their voices, which he had once remarked with pleasure, then
affected him to such a degree, that he was frequently forced to quit the
instrument and walk about the room to recover his composure.]

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 he
means to place his dear little girl to be as much as possible under my
projection. This was the dying request of my beloved friend; and the last
effort of her mind and pen [Footnote: There are some touching allusions
to these last thoughts of Mrs. Sheridan, in an Elegy, written by her
brother, Mr. William Linley, soon after the news of the sad event reached
him in India:--


"Oh most beloved! my sister and my friend!
While kindred woes still breathe around thine urn,
Long with the tear of absence must _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 for
both of us to sign, to ensure the strict performance of this last awful
injunction: so anxious was she to commit this dear treasure to my care,
well knowing how impossible it would be for a father, situated as your
brother is, to pay that constant attention to her which a daughter so
articularly requires. * * * You may be assured I shall engage in the task
with the greatest delight and alacrity:--would to God that I were in the
smallest degree qualified to supply the place of that angelic,
all-accomplished mother, of whose tender care she has been so early
'deprived. All I _can_ do for her I _will_ do; and if I can
succeed so far as to give her early and steady principles of religion,
and to form her mind to virtue, I shall think my time well employed, and
shall feel myself happy in having fulfilled the first wish of her beloved
mother's heart.

* * * * *

"To return to your brother, he talks of having his house here immediately
furnished and made ready for the reception of his nursery. It is a very
good sort of common house, with an excellent garden, roomy and fit for
the purpose, but will admit of no show or expense. I understand he has
taken a house in Jermyn-street, where he may see company, but he does not
intend having any other country-house but this. Isleworth he gives up,
his time being expired there. I believe he has got a private tutor for
Tom--somebody very much to his mind. At one time he talked of sending
him abroad with this gentleman, but I know not at present what his
determinations are. He is too fond of Tom's society to let him go from
him for any time; but I think it would be more to his advantage if he
would consent to part with him for two or three years. It is impossible
for any man to be more devotedly attached to his children than he is and
I hope they will be a comfort and a blessing to him, when the world loses
its charms. The last time I saw him, which was for about five minutes, I
thought he looked remarkably well, and seemed tolerably cheerful. But I
have observed in general that this affliction has made a wonderful
alteration in the expression of his countenance and in his manners.
[Footnote: I have heard a Noble friend of Sheridan say that, happening
about this time to sleep in the room next to him, he could plainly hear
him sobbing throughout the greater part of the night.] The Leighs and my
family spent a week with him at Isleworth the beginning of August, where
we were indeed most affectionately and hospitably entertained. I could
hardly believe him to be the same man. In fact, we never saw him do the
honors of his house before; _that,_ you know, he always left the
dear, elegant creature, who never failed to please and charm every one
who came within the sphere of her notice. Nobody could have filled her
place so well:--he seemed to have pleasure in making much of those whom
she loved, and who, he knew, sincerely loved her. We all thought he never
appeared to such advantage. He was attentive to every body and every
thing, though grave and thoughtful; and his feelings, poor fellow, often
ready to break forth in spite of his efforts to suppress them. He spent
his evenings mostly by himself. He desired me, when I wrote, to let you
know that she had by will made a little distribution of what she called
'her own property,' and had left you and your sister rings of
remembrance, and her _fausse montre,_ containing Mr. Sheridan's
picture to you, [Footnote: This bequest is thus announced by Sheridan
himself in a letter to his sister, dated June 3, 1794:--"I mean also to
send by Miss Patrick a picture which has long been your property, by a
bequest from one whose image is not often from my mind, and whose memory,
I am sure, remains in yours."]--Mrs. Joseph Lefanu having got hers. She
left rings also to Mr. and Mrs. Leigh, my sister, daughter, and myself,
and positively forbids any others being given on any pretence, but these
I have specified,--evidently precluding all her _fine friends_ from
this last mark of her esteem and approbation. She had, poor thing, with
some justice, turned from them all in disgust, and I observed, during her
illness, never mentioned any of them with regard or kindness."

The consolation which Sheridan derived from his little daughter was not
long spared to him. In a letter, without a date, from the same amiable
writer, the following account of her death is given:--

"The circumstances attending this melancholy event were particularly
distressing. A large party of young people were assembled at your
brother's to spend a joyous evening in dancing. We were all in the height
of our merriment,--he himself remarkably cheerful, and partaking of the
amusement, when the alarm was given that the dear little angel was dying.
It is impossible to describe the confusion and horror of the scene:--he
was quite frantic, and I knew not what to do. Happily there were present
several kind, good-natured men, who had their recollection, and pointed
out what should be done. We very soon had every possible assistance, and
for a short time we had some hope that her precious life would have been
spared to us--but that was soon at an end!

"The dear babe never throve to my satisfaction:--she was small and
delicate beyond imagination, and gave very little expectation of long
life; but she had visibly declined during the last month. * * * Mr.
Sheridan made himself very miserable at first, from an apprehension that
she had been neglected or mismanaged; but I trust he is perfectly
convinced that this was not the case. He was severely afflicted at first.
The dear babe's resemblance to her mother after her death was so much
more striking, that it was impossible to see her without recalling every
circumstance of that afflicting scene, and he was continually in the room
indulging the sad remembrance. In this manner he indulged his feelings
for four or five days; then, having indispensable business, he was
obliged to go to London, from whence he returned, on Sunday, apparently
in good spirits and as well as usual. But, however he may assume the
appearance of ease or cheerfulness, his heart is not of a nature to be
quickly reconciled to the loss of any thing he loves. He suffers deeply
and secretly; and I dare say he will long and bitterly lament both mother
and child."

The reader will, I think, feel with me, after reading the foregoing
letters, as well as those of Mrs. Sheridan, given in the course of this
work, that the impression which they altogether leave on the mind is in
the highest degree 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 in
it. The sensibility, too, displayed by Sheridan at this period, was not
that sort of passionate return to former feelings, which the prospect of
losing what it once loved might awaken in even the most alienated
heart;--on the contrary, there was a depth and mellowness in his sorrow
which could proceed from long habits of affection alone. The idea,
indeed, of seeking solace for the loss of the mother in the endearments
of the children would occur only to one who had been accustomed to find
happiness in his home, and who therefore clung for comfort to what
remained of the wreck.

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

The following letters on this occasion, from his eldest sister and her
husband, are a further proof of the warm attachment which he inspired in
those connected with him:--

"MY DEAREST BROTHER,

"Charles has just informed me that the fatal, the dreaded event has taken
place. On my knees I implore the Almighty to look down upon you in your
affliction, to strengthen your noble, your feeling heart to bear it. Oh
my beloved brother, these are sad, sad trials of fortitude. One
consolation, at least, in mitigation of your sorrow, I am sure you
possess,--the consciousness of having done all you could to preserve the
dear angel you have lost, and to soften the last painful days of her
mortal existence. Mrs. Canning wrote to me that she was in a resigned and
happy frame of mind: she is assuredly among the blest; and I feel and I
think she looks down with benignity at my feeble efforts to soothe that
anguish I participate. Let me then conjure you, my dear brother, to
suffer me to endeavor to be of use to you. Could I have done it, I should
have been with you from the time of your arrival at Bristol. The
impossibility of my going has made me miserable, and injured my health,
already in a very bad state. It would give value to my life, could I be
of that service I think I _might_ be of, if I were near you; and as
I cannot go to you, and as there is every reason for your quitting the
scene and objects before you, perhaps you may let us have the happiness
of having you here, and my dear Tom; I will write to him when my spirits
are quieter. I entreat you, my dear brother, try what change of place can
do for you: your character and talents are here held in the highest
estimation; and you have here some who love you beyond the affection any
in England can feel for you.

"_Cuff-Street, 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 over
to us. A journey might be of service to you, and change of objects a real
relief to your mind. We would try every thing to divert your thoughts
from too intensely dwelling on certain recollections, which are yet too
keen and too fresh to be entertained with safety, at least to occupy you
too entirely. Having been so long separated from your sister, you can
hardly have an adequate idea of her love for you. I, who on many
occasions have observed its operation, can truly and solemnly assure you
that it far exceeds any thing I could ever have supposed to have been
felt by a sister towards a brother. I am convinced you would experience
such soothing in her company and conversation as would restore you to
yourself sooner than any thing that could be imagined. Come, then, my
dear Sir, and be satisfied you will add greatly to her comfort, and to
that of your very affectionate friend,

"J. LEFANU."




CHAPTER VI.

DRURY-LANE THEATRE.--SOCIETY OF "THE FRIENDS OF THE PEOPLE."--MADAME DE
GENLIS.--WAR WITH FRANCE.--WHIG SECEDERS.--SPEECHES IN PARLIAMENT.--DEATH
OF TICKELL.


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

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

To these and other causes of the increasing embarrassments of Sheridan is
to be added the extravagance of his own style of living, which became
much more careless and profuse after death had deprived him of her, whose
maternal thoughtfulness alone would have been a check upon such
improvident waste. We are enabled to form some idea of his expensive
habits, by finding, from the letters which have just been quoted, that he
was, at the same time, maintaining three establishments,--one at
Wanstead, where his son resided with his tutor; another at Isleworth,
which he still held, (as I learn from letters directed to him there,) in
1793; and the third, his town-house, in Jermyn Street. Rich and ready as
were the resources which the Treasury of the theatre opened to him, and
fertile as was his own invention in devising new schemes of finance, such
mismanaged expenditure would exhaust even _his_ magic wealth, and
the lamp must cease to answer to the rubbing at last.

The tutor, whom he was lucky enough to obtain for his son at this time,
was Mr. William Smythe, a gentleman who has since distinguished himself
by his classical attainments and graceful talent for poetry. Young
Sheridan had previously been under the care of Dr. Parr, with whom he
resided a considerable time at Hatton; and the friendship of this learned
man for the father could not have been more strongly shown than in the
disinterestedness with which he devoted himself to the education of the
son. The following letter from him to Mr. Sheridan, in the May of this
year, proves the kind feeling by which he was actuated towards him:--

"DEAR SIR,

"I hope Tom got home safe, and found you in better spirits. He said
something about drawing on your banker; but I do not understand the
process, and shall not take any step. You will consult your own
convenience about these things; for my connection with you is that of
friendship and personal regard. I feel and remember slights from those I
respect, but acts of kindness I cannot forget; and, though my life has
been passed far more in doing than receiving services, yet I know and I
value the good dispositions of yourself and a few other friends,--men who
are worthy of that name from me.

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

"Believe me, dear Sir,

"Yours sincerely,

"S. PARR."

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

It is a proof of the little zeal which Mr. Fox felt at this period on the
subject of Reform, that he withheld the sanction of his name from a
Society, to which so many of his most intimate political friends
belonged. Some notice was, indeed, taken in the House of this symptom of
backwardness in the cause; and Sheridan, in replying to the insinuation,
said that "they wanted not the signature of his Right Honorable friend to
assure them I of his concurrence. They had his bond in the steadiness of
his political principles and the integrity of his heart." Mr. Fox
himself, however, gave a more definite explanation of the circumstance.
"He might be asked," he said, "why his name was not on the list of the
Society for Reform? His reason was, that though he saw great and enormous
grievances, he did not see the remedy." It is to be doubted, indeed,
whether Mr. Fox ever fully admitted the principle upon which the demand
for a Reform was founded. When he afterward espoused the question so
warmly, it seems to have been merely as one of those weapons caught up in
the heat of a warfare, in which Liberty itself appeared to him too
imminently endangered to admit of the consideration of any abstract
principle, except that summary one of the right of resistance to power
abused. From what has been already said, too, of the language held by
Sheridan on this subject, it may be concluded that, though far more ready
than his friend to inscribe Reform upon the banner of the party, he had
even still less made up his mind as to the practicability or expediency
of the measure. Looking upon it as a question, the agitation of which was
useful to Liberty, and at the same time counting upon the improbability
of its objects being ever accomplished, he adopted at once, as we have
seen, the most speculative of all the plans that had been proposed, and
flattered himself that he thus secured the benefit of the general
principle, without risking the inconvenience of any of the practical
details.

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

"I am down here with Mrs. Canning and her family, while all my friends
and party are meeting in town, where I have excused myself, to lay their
wise heads together in this crisis. Again I say there is nothing but what
is unpleasant before my mind. I wish to occupy and fill my thoughts with
public matters, and to do justice to the times, they afford materials
enough; but nothing is in prospect to make activity pleasant, or to point
one's efforts against one common enemy, making all that engage in the
attack cordial, social, and united. On the contrary, every day produces
some new schism and absurdity. Windham has signed a nonsensical
association with Lord Mulgrave; and when I left town yesterday, I was
informed that the _Divan_, as the meeting at Debrett's is called,
were furious at an _authentic_ advertisement from the Duke of
Portland against Charles Fox's speech in the Whig Club, which no one
before believed to be genuine, but which they now say Dr. Lawrence
brought from Burlington-House. If this is so, depend on it there will be
a direct breach in what has been called the Whig Party. Charles Fox must
come to the Reformers openly and avowedly; and in a month four-fifths of
the Whig Club will do the same."

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