← catalogue

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

by Thomas Moore · English · Gutenberg #7775 · 768,771 chars · public domain (US)

The Project Gutenberg eBook of Memoirs of the Life of the Rt. Hon. Richard Brinsley Sheridan — Volume 02
    
This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and
most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions
whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms
of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online
at www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States,
you will have to check the laws of the country where you are located
before using this eBook.

Title: Memoirs of the Life of the Rt. Hon. Richard Brinsley Sheridan — Volume 02

Author: Thomas Moore


        
Release date: March 1, 2005 [eBook #7775]
                Most recently updated: December 30, 2020

Language: English

Other information and formats: www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/7775

Credits: Produced by Charles Franks, Robert Connal and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team


*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE RT. HON. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN — VOLUME 02 ***




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 of
her 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.--Dissolution
of Parliament.--Mr. Burke and Mr. Fox.--Russian Armament.--Royal Scotch
Boroughs.

CHAPTER V.

Death of Mrs. Sheridan.

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.

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 of
the Duchy of Cornwall bestowed upon Mr. Sheridan.--Return of Mr. Pitt to
Power.--Catholic Question.--Administration of Lord Grenville and Mr.
Fox.--Death of Mr. Fox.--Representation of Westminster.--Dismission of
the Ministry.--Theatrical Negotiation.--Spanish Question.--Letter to the
Prince.

CHAPTER X.

Destruction of the Theatre of Drury-Lane by Fire.--Mr. Whitbread--Plan
for a Third Theatre.--Illness of the King.--Regency.--Lord Grey and Lord
Grenville.--Conduct of Mr. Sheridan.--His Vindication 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. Sheridan
was appointed one of the Managers, "to make good the Articles" of the
Impeachment, and, on the 3d of June in the following year, brought
forward the same Charge in Westminster Hall which he had already enforced
with such wonderful talent in the House of Commons.

To be called upon for a second great effort of eloquence, on a subject of
which all the facts and the bearings remained the same, was, it must be
acknowledged, no ordinary trial to even the most fertile genius; and Mr.
Fox, it is said, hopeless of any second flight ever rising to the grand
elevation of the first, advised that the former Speech should be, with
very little change, repeated. But such a plan, however welcome it might
be to the indolence of his friend, would have looked too like an
acknowledgment of exhaustion on the subject to be submitted to by one so
justly confident in the resources both of his reason and fancy.
Accordingly, he had the glory of again opening, in the very same field, a
new and abundant spring of eloquence, which, during four days, diffused
its enchantment among an assembly of the most illustrious persons of the
land, and of which Mr. Burke pronounced at its conclusion, that "of all
the various species of oratory, of every kind of eloquence that had been
heard, either in ancient or modern times; whatever the acuteness of the
bar, the dignity of the senate, or the morality of the pulpit could
furnish, had not been equal to what that House had that day heard in
Westminster Hall. No holy religionist, no man of any description as a
literary character, could have come up, in the one instance, to the pure
sentiments of morality, or in the other, to the variety of knowledge,
force of imagination, propriety and vivacity of allusion, beauty and
elegance of diction, and strength of expression, to which they had that
day listened. From poetry up to eloquence there was not a species of
composition of which a complete and perfect specimen might not have been
culled, from one part or the other of the speech to which he alluded, and
which, he was persuaded, had left too strong an impression on the minds
of that House to be easily obliterated."

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

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

Among the native Princes who, on the transfer of the sceptre of Tamerlane
to the East India Company, became tributaries or rather slaves to that
Honorable body, none seems to have been treated with more capricious
cruelty than Cheyte Sing, the Rajah of Benares. In defiance of a solemn
treaty, entered into between him and the government of Mr. Hastings, by
which it was stipulated that, besides his fixed tribute, no further
demands, of any kind, should be made upon him, new exactions were every
year enforced;--while the humble remonstrances of the Rajah against such
gross injustice were not only treated with slight, but punished by
arbitrary and enormous fines. Even the proffer of bribe succeeded only in
being accepted [Footnote: This was the transaction that formed one of the
principal grounds of the Seventh Charge brought forward in the House of
Commons by Mr. Sheridan. The suspicious circumstances attending this
present are thus summed up by Mr. Mill: "At first, perfect concealment of
the transaction--such measures, however, taken as may, if afterwards
necessary, appear to imply a design of future disclosure;--when
concealment becomes difficult and hazardous, then disclosure
made."--_History of British India_.]--the exactions which it was
intended to avert being continued as rigorously as before. At length, in
the year 1781, Mr. Hastings, who invariably, among the objects of his
government, placed the interests of Leadenhall Street first on the list,
and those of justice and humanity _longo intervallo_ after,--finding
the treasury of the Company in a very exhausted state, resolved to
sacrifice this unlucky Rajah to their replenishment; and having as a
preliminary step, imposed upon him a mulct of £500,000, set out
immediately for his capital, Benares, to compel the payment of it. Here,
after rejecting with insult the suppliant advances of the Prince, he put
him under arrest, and imprisoned him in his own palace. This violation of
the rights and the roof of their sovereign drove the people of the whole
province into a sudden burst of rebellion, of which Mr. Hastings himself
was near being the victim. The usual triumph, however, of might over
right ensued; the Rajah's castle was plundered of all its treasures, and
his mother, who had taken refuge in the fort, and only surrendered it on
the express stipulation that she and the other princesses should pass out
safe from the dishonor of search, was, in violation of this condition,
and at the base suggestion of Mr. Hastings himself, [Footnote: In his
letter to the Commanding Officer at Bidgegur. The following are the terms
in which he conveys the hint: "I apprehend that she will contrive to
defraud the captors of a considerable part of the booty, by being
suffered to retire _without examination_. But this is your
consideration, and not mine. I should be very sorry that your officers
and soldiers lost any part of the reward to which they are so well
entitled; but I cannot make any objection, as you must be the best judge
of 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 iniquity
without reaping any of its reward. The treasures found in the castle of
the Rajah were inconsiderable, and the soldiers, who had shown themselves
so docile in receiving the lessons of plunder, were found inflexibly
obstinate in refusing to admit their instructor to a share. Disappointed,
therefore, in the primary object of his expedition, the Governor-General
looked round for some richer harvest of rapine, and the Begums of Oude
presented themselves as the most convenient victims. These Princesses,
the mother and grandmother of the reigning Nabob of Oude, had been left
by the late sovereign in possession of certain government-estates, or
jaghires, as well as of all the treasure that was in his hands at the
time of his death, and which the orientalized imaginations of the English
exaggerated to an enormous sum. The present Nabob had evidently looked
with an eye of cupidity on this wealth, and had been guilty of some acts
of extortion towards his female relatives, in consequence of which the
English government had interfered between them,--and had even guaranteed
to the mother of the Nabob the safe possession of her property, without
any further encroachment whatever. Guarantees and treaties, however, were
but cobwebs in the way of Mr. Hastings; and on his failure at Benares, he
lost no time in concluding an agreement with the Nabob, by which (in
consideration of certain measures of relief to his dominions) this Prince
was bound to plunder his mother and grandmother of all their property,
and place it at the disposal of the Governor-General. In order to give a
color of justice to this proceeding, it was [Footnote: "It was the
practice of Mr. Hastings (says Burke, in his fine speech on Mr. Pitt's
India Bill, March 22, 1786) to examine the country, and wherever he found
money to affix guilt. A more dreadful fault could not be alleged against
a native than that he was rich."] pretended that these Princesses had
taken advantage of the late insurrection at Benares, to excite a similar
spirit of revolt in Oude against the reigning Nabob and the English
government. As Law is but too often, in such cases, the ready accomplice
of Tyranny, the services of the Chief Justice, Sir Elijah Impey, were
called in to sustain the accusations; and the wretched mockery was
exhibited of a Judge travelling about in search of evidence, [Footnote:
This journey of the Chief Justice in search of evidence is thus happily
described by Sheridan in the Speech:--"When, on the 28th of November, he
was busied at Lucknow on that honorable business, and when, three days
after, he was found at Chunar, at the distance of 200 miles, still
searching for affidavits, and, like Hamlet's ghost, exclaiming, 'Swear,'
his progress on that occasion was so whimsically rapid, compared with the
gravity of his employ, that an observer would be tempted to quote again
from the same scene, 'Ha! Old Truepenny, canst thou mole so fast i' the
ground?' Here, however, the comparison ceased; for, when Sir Elijah made
his visit to Lucknow 'to whet the almost blunted purpose' of the Nabob,
his language was wholly different from that of the poet--for it would
have been totally against his purpose to have said,

  Taint not thy mind, nor let thy soul contrive
  Against thy mother 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 those
venerable ladies occasionally minister to his wants, yet shrunk back,
with natural reluctance, from the summary task now imposed upon him; and
it was not till after repeated and peremptory remonstrances from Mr.
Hastings, that he could be induced to put himself at the head of a body
of English troops, and take possession, by unresisted force, of the town
and palace of these Princesses. As the treasure, however, was still
secure in the apartments of the women,--that circle, within which even the
spirit of English rapine did not venture,--an expedient was adopted to
get over this inconvenient delicacy. Two aged eunuchs of high rank and
distinction, the confidential agents of the Begums, were thrown into
prison, and subjected to a course of starvation and torture, by which it
was hoped that the feelings of their mistresses might be worked upon, and
a more speedy surrender of their treasure wrung from them. The plan
succeeded:--upwards of 500,000_l_. was procured to recruit the
finances of the Company; and thus, according to the usual course of
British power in India, rapacity but levied its contributions in one
quarter, to enable war to pursue its desolating career in another.

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

Such is an outline of the case, which, with all its aggravating details,
Mr. Sheridan had to state in these two memorable Speeches; and it was
certainly most fortunate for the display of his peculiar powers, that
this should be the Charge confided to his management. For, not only was
it the strongest, and susceptible of the highest charge of coloring, but
it had also the advantage of grouping together all the principal
delinquents of the trial, and affording a gradation of hue, from the
showy and prominent enormities of the Governor-General and Sir Elijah
Impey in the front of the picture, to the subordinate and half-tint
iniquity of the Middletons and Bristows in the back-ground.

Mr. Burke, it appears, had at first reserved this grand part in the drama
of the Impeachment for himself; but, finding that Sheridan had also fixed
his mind upon it, he, without hesitation, resigned it into his hands;
thus proving the sincerity of his zeal in the cause, [Footnote: Of the
lengths to which this zeal could sometimes carry his fancy and language,
rather, perhaps, than his actual feelings, the following anecdote is a
remarkable proof. On one of the days of the trial, Lord ----, who was
then a boy, having been introduced by a relative into the Manager's box,
Burke said to him, "I am glad to see you here--I shall be still gladder
to see you there--(pointing to the Peers' seats) I hope you will be _in
at the death_--I should like to _blood_ you."] by sacrificing
even the vanity of talent to its success.

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

"MADAM,

"I am sure you will have the goodness to excuse the liberty I take with
you, when you consider the interest which I have and which the Public
have (the said Public being, at least, half an inch a taller person than
I am) in the use of Mr. Sheridan's abilities. I know that his mind is
seldom unemployed; but then, like all such great and vigorous minds, it
takes an eagle flight by itself, and we can hardly bring it to rustle
along the ground, with us birds of meaner wing, in coveys. I only beg
that you will prevail on Mr. Sheridan to be with us _this day_, at
half after three, in the Committee. Mr. Wombell, the Paymaster of Oude,
is to be examined there _to-day_. Oude is Mr. Sheridan's particular
province; and I do most seriously ask that he would favor us with his
assistance. What will come of the examination I know not; but, without
him, I do not expect a great deal from it; with him, I fancy we may get
out something material. Once more let me entreat your interest with Mr.
Sheridan and your forgiveness for being troublesome to you, and do me the
justice to believe me, with the most sincere respect,

"Madam, your most obedient

"and faithful humble Servant,

_"Thursday, 9 o'clock._

"EDM. BURKE."

"MY DEAR SIR,

"You have only to wish to be excused to succeed in your wishes; for,
indeed, he must be a great enemy to himself who can consent, on account
of a momentary ill-humor, to keep himself at a distance from you.

"Well, all will turn out right,--and half of you, or a quarter, is worth
five other men. I think that this cause, which was originally yours, will
be recognized by you, and that you will again possess yourself of it. The
owner's mark is on it, and all our docking and cropping cannot hinder its
being known and cherished by its original master. My most humble respects
to Mrs. Sheridan. I am happy to find that she takes in good part the
liberty I presumed to take with her. Grey has done much and will do every
thing. It is a pity that he is not always toned to the full extent of his
talents.

"Most truly yours,

_"Monday._

"EDM. BURKE.

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

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

In the course of his exordium, after dwelling upon the great importance
of the inquiry in which they were engaged, and disclaiming for himself
and his brother-managers any feeling of personal malice against the
defendant, or any motive but that of retrieving the honor of the British
name in India, and bringing down punishment upon those whose inhumanity
and injustice had disgraced it,--he thus proceeds to conciliate the Court
by a warm tribute to the purity of English justice:--

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

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

"Major Scott comes to your bar--describes the shortness of
time--represents Mr. Hastings as it were _contracting for_ a
character--putting his memory _into commission_--making
_departments_ for his conscience. A number of friends meet together,
and he, knowing (no doubt) that the accusation of the Commons had been
drawn up by a Committee, thought it necessary, as a point of punctilio,
to answer it by a Committee also. One furnishes the raw material of fact,
the second spins the argument, and the third twines up the conclusion;
while Mr. Hastings, with a master's eye, is cheering and looking over
this loom. He says to one, 'You have got my good faith in your
hands--_you_, my veracity to manage. Mr. Shore, I hope you will make
me a good financier--Mr. Middleton, you have my humanity in
commission.'--When it is done, he brings it to the House of Commons, and
says, 'I was equal to the task. I knew the difficulties, but I scorn
them: here is the truth, and if the truth will convict me, I am content
myself to be the channel of it.' His friends hold up their heads, and
say, 'What noble magnanimity! This must be the effect of conscious and
real innocence.' Well, it is so received, it is so argued upon,--but it
fails of its effect.

"Then says Mr. Hastings,--'That my defence! no, mere
journeyman-work,--good enough for the Commons, but not fit for Your
Lordships' consideration.' He then calls upon his Counsel to save
him:--'I fear none of my accusers' witnesses--I know some of them well--I
know the weakness of their memory, and the strength of their
attachment--I fear no testimony but my own--save me from the peril of my
own panegyric--preserve me from that, and I shall be safe.' Then is this
plea brought to Your Lordships' bar, and Major Scott gravely
asserts,--that Mr. Hastings did, at the bar of the House of Commons,
vouch for facts of which he was ignorant, and for arguments which he had
never read.

"After such an attempt, we certainly are left in doubt to decide, to
_which_ set of his friends Mr. Hastings is least obliged, those who
assisted him in making his defence, or those who advised him to deny it."

He thus describes the feelings of the people of the East with respect to
the unapproachable sanctity of their Zenanas:--

"It is too much, I am afraid, the case, that persons, used to European
manners, do not take up these sort of considerations at first with the
seriousness that is necessary. For Your Lordships cannot even learn the
right nature of those people's feelings and prejudices from any history
of other Mahometan countries,--not even from that of the Turks, for they
are a mean and degraded race in comparison with many of these great
families, who, inheriting from their Persian ancestors, preserve a purer
style of prejudice and a loftier superstition. Women there are not as in
Turkey--they neither go to the mosque nor to the bath--it is not the thin
veil alone that hides them--but in the inmost recesses of their Zenana
they are kept from public view by those reverenced and protected walls,
which, as Mr. Hastings and Sir Elijah Impey admit, are held sacred even
by the ruffian hand of war or by the more uncourteous hand of the law.
But, in this situation, they are not confined from a mean and selfish
policy of man--not from a coarse and sensual jealousy--enshrined rather
than immured, their habitation and retreat is a sanctuary, not a
prison--their jealousy is their own--a jealousy of their own honor, that
leads them to regard liberty as a degradation, and the gaze of even
admiring eyes as inexpiable pollution to the purity of their fame and the
sanctity of their honor.

"Such being the general opinion (or prejudices, let them be called) of
this country, Your Lordships will find, that whatever treasures were
given or lodged in a Zenana of this description must, upon the evidence
of the thing itself, be placed beyond the reach of resumption. To dispute
with the Counsel about the original right to those treasures--to talk of
a title to them by the Mahometan law!--their title to them is the title
of a Saint to the relics upon an altar, placed there by Piety, [Footnote:
This metaphor was rather roughly handled afterwards (1794) by Mr. Law,
one of the adverse Counsel, who asked, how could the Begum be considered
as "a Saint," or how were the camels, which formed part of the treasure,
to be "placed upon the altar?" Sheridan, in reply, said, "It was the
first time in his life he had ever heard of _special pleading_ on a
_metaphor_, or a _bill of indictment_ against a trope. But such
was the turn of the learned Counsel's mind, that, when he attempted to be
humorous, no jest could be found, and, when serious, no fact was
visible."] guarded by holy Superstition, and to be snatched from thence
only by Sacrilege."

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

"The fact is, that through all his defences--through all his various
false suggestions--through all these various rebellions and
disaffections, Mr. Hastings never once lets go this plea--of
extinguishable right in the Nabob. He constantly represents the seizing
the treasures as a resumption of a right which he could not part
with;--as if there were literally something in the Koran, that made it
criminal in a true Mussulman to keep his engagements with his relations,
and impious in a son to abstain from plundering his mother. I do gravely
assure your Lordships that there is no such doctrine in the Koran, and no
such principle makes a part in the civil or municipal jurisprudence of
that country. Even after these Princesses had been endeavoring to
dethrone the Nabob and to extirpate the English, the only plea the Nabob
ever makes, is his right under the Mahometan law; and the truth is, he
appears never to have heard any other reason, and I pledge myself to make
it appear to Your Lordships, however extraordinary it may be, that not
only had the Nabob never heard of the rebellion till the moment of
seizing the palace, but, still further, that he never heard of it at
all--that this extraordinary rebellion, which was as notorious as the
rebellion of 1745 in London, was carefully concealed from those two
parties--the Begums who plotted it, and the Nabob who was to be the
victim of it.

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

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

"My Lords, such was the distressed situation of the Nabob about a
twelvemonth before Mr. Hastings met him at Chunar. It was a twelvemonth,
I say, after this miserable scene--a mighty period in the progress of
British rapacity--it was (if the Counsel will) after some natural
calamities had aided the superior vigor of British violence and
rapacity--it was after the country had felt other calamities besides the
English--it was after the angry dispensations of Providence had, with a
progressive severity of chastisement, visited the land with a famine one
year, and with a Col. Hannay the next--it was after he, this Hannay, had
returned to retrace the steps of his former ravages--it was after he and
his voracious crew had come to plunder ruins which himself had made, and
to glean from desolation the little that famine had spared, or rapine
overlooked;--_then_ it was that this miserable bankrupt prince
marching through his country, besieged by the clamors of his starving
subjects, who cried to him for protection through their cages--meeting
the curses of some of his subjects, and the prayers of others--with
famine at his heels, and reproach following him,--then it was that this
Prince is represented as exercising this act of prodigal bounty to the
very man whom he here reproaches--to the very man whose policy had
extinguished his power, and whose creatures had desolated his country. To
talk of a free-will gift! it is audacious and ridiculous to name the
supposition. It was _not_ a free-will gift. What was it then? was it
a bribe? or was it extortion? I shall prove it was both--it was an act of
gross bribery and of rank extortion."

Again he thus adverts to this present:--

"The first thing he does is, to leave Calcutta, in order to go to the
relief of the distressed Nabob. The second thing, is to take 100,000_l_
from that distressed Nabob on account of the distressed Company. And the
third thing is to ask of the distressed Company this very same sum on
account of the distresses of Mr. Hastings. There never were three
distresses that seemed so little reconcilable with one another."

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

"State necessity! no, my Lords; that imperial tyrant, _State
Necessity_, is yet a generous despot,--bold is his demeanor, rapid his
decisions, and terrible his grasp. But what he does, my Lords, he dares
avow, and avowing, scorns any other justification, than the great motives
that placed the iron sceptre in his hand. But a quibbling, pilfering,
prevaricating State-Necessity, that tries to skulk behind the skirts of
Justice;--a State-Necessity that tries to steal a pitiful justification
from whispered accusations and fabricated rumors. No, my Lords, that is
no State Necessity;--tear off the mask, and you see coarse, vulgar
avarice,--you see speculation, lurking under the gaudy disguise, and
adding the guilt of libelling the public honor to its own private fraud.

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

In describing that swarm of English pensioners and placemen, who were
still, in violation of the late purchased treaty, left to prey on the
finances of the Nabob, he says,--

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

We have in the close of the following passage, a specimen of that lofty
style, in which, as if under the influence of Eastern associations,
almost all the Managers of this Trial occasionally indulged: [Footnote:
Much of this, however, is to be set down to the gratuitous bombast of the
Reporter. Mr. Fox, for instance, is made to say, "Yes, my Lords, happy is
it for the world, that the penetrating gaze of Providence searches after
man, and in the dark den where he has stifled the remonstrances of
conscience darts his compulsatory ray, that, bursting the secrecy of
guilt, drives the criminal frantic to confession and expiation."
_History of the Trial._--Even one of the Counsel, Mr. Dallas, is
represented as having caught this Oriental contagion, to such a degree as
to express himself in the following manner:--"We are now, however, (said
the Counsel,) advancing from the star-light of Circumstance to the
day-light of Discovery: the sun of Certainty is melting the darkness,
and--we are arrived at facts admitted by both parties!"]--

"I do not mean to say that Mr. Middleton had _direct_ instructions
from Mr. Hastings,--that he told him to go and give that fallacious
assurance to the Nabob,--that he had that order _under his hand_.
No, but in looking attentively over Mr. Middleton's correspondence, you
will find him say, upon a more important occasion, 'I don't expect your
public authority for this;--it is enough if you but _hint_ your
pleasure.' He knew him well; he could interpret every nod and motion of
that head; he understood the glances of that eye which sealed the
perdition of nations, and at whose throne Princes waited, in pale
expectation, for their fortune or their doom."

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

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

His description of the desolation brought upon some provinces of Oude by
the misgovernment of Colonel Hannay, and of the insurrection at
Goruckpore against that officer in consequence, is, perhaps, the most
masterly portion of the whole speech:--

"If we could suppose a person to have come suddenly into the country
unacquainted with any circumstances that had passed since the days of
Sujah ul Dowlah, he would naturally ask--what cruel hand has wrought this
wide desolation, what barbarian foe has invaded the country, has
desolated its fields, depopulated its villages? He would ask, what
disputed succession, civil rage, or frenzy of the inhabitants, had
induced them to act in hostility to the words of God, and the beauteous
works of man? He would ask what religious zeal or frenzy had added to the
mad despair and horrors of war? The ruin is unlike any thing that appears
recorded in any age; it looks like neither the barbarities of men, nor
the judgments of vindictive heaven. There is a waste of desolation, as if
caused by fell destroyers, never meaning to return and making but a short
period of their rapacity. It looks as if some fabled monster had made its
passage through the country, whose pestiferous breath had blasted more
than its voracious appetite could devour."

"If there had been any men in the country, who had not their hearts and
souls so subdued by fear, as to refuse to speak the truth at all upon
such a subject, they would have told him, there had been no war since the
time of Sujah ul Dowlah,--tyrant, indeed, as he was, but then deeply
regretted by his subjects--that no hostile blow of any enemy had been
struck in that land--that there had been no disputed succession--no civil
war--no religious frenzy. But that these were the tokens of British
friendship, the marks left by the embraces of British allies--more
dreadful than the blows of the bitterest enemy. They would tell him that
these allies had converted a prince into a slave, to make him the
principal in the extortion upon his subjects;--that their rapacity
increased in proportion as the means of supplying their avarice
diminished; that they made the sovereign pay as if they had a right to an
increased price, because the labor of extortion and plunder increased. To
such causes, they would tell him, these calamities were owing.

"Need I refer Your Lordships to the strong testimony of Major Naylor when
he rescued Colonel Hannay from their hands--where you see that this
people, born to submission and bent to most abject subjection--that even
they, in whose meek hearts injury had never yet begot resentment, nor
even despair bred courage--that _their_ hatred, _their_
abhorrence of Colonel Hannay was such that they clung round him by
thousands and thousands;--that when Major Naylor rescued him, they
refused life from the hand that could rescue Hannay;--that they nourished
this desperate consolation, that by their death they should at least thin
the number of wretches who suffered by his devastation and extortion. He
says that, when he crossed the river, he found the poor wretches
quivering upon the parched banks of the polluted river, encouraging their
blood to flow, and consoling themselves with the thought, that it would
not sink into the earth, but rise to the common God of humanity, and cry
aloud for vengeance on their destroyers!--This warm description--which is
no declamation of mine, but founded in actual fact, and in fair, clear
proof before Your Lordships--speaks powerfully what the cause of these
oppressions were, and the perfect justness of those feelings that were
occasioned by them. And yet, my Lords, I am asked to prove _why_
these people arose in such concert:--'there must have been machinations,
forsooth, and the Begums' machinations, to produce all this!'--Why did
they rise!--Because they were people in human shape; because patience
under the detested tyranny of man is rebellion to the sovereignty of God;
because allegiance to that Power that gives us the _forms_ of men
commands us to maintain the _rights_ of men. And never yet was this
truth dismissed from the human heart--never in any time, in any
age--never in any clime, where rude man ever had any social feeling, or
where corrupt refinement had subdued all feelings,--never was this one
unextinguishable 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 the
property of man; that human power is a trust for human benefit and that
when it is abused, revenge becomes justice, if not the bounden duty of
the injured! These, my Lords, were the causes why these people rose."

Another passage in the second day's speech is remarkable, as exhibiting a
sort of tourney of intellect between Sheridan and Burke, and in that
field of abstract speculation, which was the favorite arena of the
latter. Mr. Burke had, in opening the prosecution, remarked, that
prudence is a quality incompatible with vice, and can never be
effectively enlisted in its cause:--"I never (said he) knew a man who was
bad, fit for _service_ that was good. There is always some
disqualifying ingredient, mixing and spoiling the compound. The man seems
paralytic on that side, his muscles there have lost their very tone and
character--they cannot move. In short, the accomplishment of any thing
good is a physical impossibility for such a man. There is decrepitude as
well as distortion: he could not, if he would, is not more certain than
that he would not, if he could." To this sentiment the allusions in the
following passage refer:--

"I am perfectly convinced that there is one idea, which must arise in
Your Lordships' minds as a subject of wonder,--how a person of Mr.
Hastings' reputed abilities can furnish such matter of accusation against
himself. For, it must be admitted that never was there a person who seems
to go so rashly to work, with such an arrogant appearance of contempt for
all conclusions, that may be deduced from what he advances upon the
subject. When he seems most earnest and laborious to defend himself, it
appears as if he had but one idea uppermost in his mind--a determination
not to care what he says, provided he keeps clear of fact. He knows that
truth must convict him, and concludes, _à converso_, that falsehood
will acquit him; forgetting that there must be some connection, some
system, some co-operation, or, otherwise, his host of falsities fall
without an enemy, self-discomfited and destroyed. But of this he never
seems to have had the slightest apprehension. He falls to work, an
artificer of fraud, against all the rules of architecture;--he lays his
ornamental work first, and his massy foundation at the top of it; and
thus his whole building tumbles upon his head. Other people look well to
their ground, choose their position, and watch whether they are likely to
be surprised there; but he, as if in the ostentation of his heart, builds
upon a precipice, and encamps upon a mine, from choice. He seems to have
no one actuating principle, but a steady, persevering resolution not to
speak the truth or to tell the fact.

"It is impossible almost to treat conduct of this kind with perfect
seriousness; yet I am aware that it ought to be more seriously accounted
for--because I am sure it has been a sort of paradox, which must have
struck Your Lordships, how any person having so many motives to
conceal--having so many reasons to dread detection--should yet go to work
so clumsily upon the subject. It is possible, indeed, that it may raise
this doubt--whether such a person is of sound mind enough to be a proper
object of punishment; or at least it may give a kind of confused notion,
that the guilt cannot be of so deep and black a grain, over which such a
thin veil was thrown, and so little trouble taken to avoid detection. I
am aware that, to account for this seeming paradox, historians, poets,
and even philosophers--at least of ancient times--have adopted the
superstitious solution of the vulgar, and said that the gods deprive men
of reason whom they devote to destruction or to punishment. But to
unassuming or unprejudiced reason, there is no need to resort to any
supposed supernatural interference; for the solution will be found in the
eternal rules that formed the mind of man, and gave a quality and nature
to every passion that inhabits in it.

"An Honorable friend of mine, who is now, I believe, near me,--a
gentleman, to whom I never can on any occasion refer without feelings of
respect, and, on this subject, without feelings of the most grateful
homage;--a gentleman, whose abilities upon this occasion, as upon some
former ones, happily for the glory of the age in which we live, are not
entrusted merely to the perishable eloquence of the day, but will live to
be the admiration of that hour when all of us are mute, and most of us
forgotten;--that Honorable gentleman has told you that Prudence, the
first of virtues, never can be used in the cause of vice. If, reluctant
and diffident, I might take such a liberty, I should express a doubt,
whether experience, observation, or history, will warrant us in fully
assenting to this observation. It is a noble and a lovely sentiment, my
Lords, worthy the mind of him who uttered it, worthy that proud disdain,
that generous scorn of the means and instruments of vice, which virtue
and genius must ever feel. But I should doubt whether we can read the
history of a Philip of Macedon, a Caesar, or a Cromwell, without
confessing, that there have been evil purposes, baneful to the peace and
to the rights of men, conducted--if I may not say, with prudence or with
wisdom--yet with awful craft and most successful and commanding subtlety.
If, however, I might make a distinction, I should say that it is the
proud attempt to mix a _variety_ of lordly crimes, that unsettles
the prudence of the mind, and breeds this distraction of the brain.

"_One_ master-passion, domineering in the breast, may win the
faculties of the understanding to advance its purpose, and to direct to
that object every thing that thought or human knowledge can effect; but,
to succeed, it must maintain a solitary despotism in the mind;--each
rival profligacy must stand aloof, or wait in abject vassalage upon its
throne. For, the Power, that has not forbad the entrance of evil passions
into man's mind, has, at least, forbad their union;--if they meet they
defeat their object, and their conquest, or their attempt at it, is
tumult. Turn to the Virtues--how different the decree! Formed to connect,
to blend, to associate, and to cooperate; bearing the same course, with
kindred energies and harmonious sympathy, each perfect in its own lovely
sphere, each moving in its wider or more contracted orbit, with
different, but concentering, powers, guided by the same influence of
reason, and endeavoring at the same blessed end--the happiness of the
individual, the harmony of the species, and the glory of the Creator. In
the Vices, on the other hand, it is the discord that insures the
defeat--each clamors to be heard in its own barbarous language; each
claims the exclusive cunning of the brain; each thwarts and reproaches
the other; and even while their fell rage assails with common hate the
peace and virtue of the world, the civil war among their own tumultuous
legions defeats the purpose of the foul conspiracy. These are the Furies
of the mind, my Lords, that unsettle the understanding; these are the
Furies, that destroy the virtue, Prudence,--while the distracted brain
and shivered intellect proclaim the tumult that is within, and bear their
testimonies, from the mouth of God himself, to the foul condition of the
heart."

The part of the Speech which occupied the Third Day (and which was
interrupted by the sudden indisposition of Mr. Sheridan) consists chiefly
of comments upon the affidavits taken before Sir Elijah Impey,--in which
the irrelevance and inconsistency of these documents is shrewdly exposed,
and the dryness of detail, inseparable from such a task, enlivened by
those light touches of conversational humor, and all that by-play of
eloquence of which Mr. Sheridan was such a consummate master. But it was
on the Fourth Day of the oration that he rose into his most ambitious
flights, and produced some of those dazzling bursts of declamation, of
which the traditional fame is most vividly preserved. Among the audience
of that day was Gibbon, and the mention of his name in the following
passage not only produced its effect at the moment, but, as connected
with literary anecdote, will make the passage itself long memorable.
Politics are of the day, but literature is of all time--and, though it
was in the power of the orator, in his brief moment of triumph, to throw
a lustre over the historian by a passing epithet, [Footnote: Gibbon
himself thought it an event worthy of record in his Memoirs. "Before my
departure from England (he says) I was present at the august spectacle of
Mr. Hastings's Trial in Westminster Hall. It was not my province to
absolve or condemn the Governor of India, but Mr. Sheridan's eloquence
demanded my applause, nor could I hear without emotion the personal
compliment which he paid me in the presence of the British nation. From
this display of genius, which blazed four successive days," &c &c.] the
name of the latter will, at the long run, pay back the honor with
interest. Having reprobated the violence and perfidy of the
Governor-General, in forcing the Nabob to plunder his own relatives and
friends, he adds:--

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

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

It is well known that the simile of the vulture and the lamb, which
occurs in the address of Rolla to the Peruvians, had been previously
employed by Mr. Sheridan, in this speech; and it showed a degree of
indifference to criticism,--which criticism, it must be owned, not
unfrequently deserves,--to reproduce before the public an image, so
notorious both from its application and its success. But, called upon, as
he was, to levy, for the use of that Drama, a hasty conscription of
phrases and images, all of a certain altitude and pomp, this veteran
simile, he thought, might be pressed into the service among the rest. The
passage of the Speech in which it occurs is left imperfect in the
Report:--

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

The following is his celebrated delineation of Filial Affection, to which
reference is more frequently made than to any other part of the
Speech;--though the gross inaccuracy of the printed Report has done its
utmost to belie the reputation of the original passage, or rather has
substituted a changeling to inherit its fame.

"When I see in many of these letters the infirmities of age made a
subject of mockery and ridicule; when I see the feelings of a son treated
by Mr. Middleton as puerile and contemptible; when I see an order given
by Mr. Hastings to harden that son's heart, to choke the struggling
nature in his bosom; when I see them pointing to the son's name, and to
his standard while marching to oppress the mother, as to a banner that
gives dignity, that gives a holy sanction and a reverence to their
enterprise; when I see and hear these things done--when I hear them
brought into three deliberate Defences set up against the Charges of the
Commons--my Lords, I own I grow puzzled and confounded, and almost begin
to doubt whether, where such a defence can be offered, it may not be
tolerated.

"And yet, my Lords, how can I support the claim of filial love by
argument--much less the affection of a son to a mother--where love loses
its awe, and veneration is mixed with tenderness? What can I say upon
such a subject, what can I do but repeat the ready truths which, with the
quick impulse of the mind, must spring to the lips of every man on such a
theme? Filial love! the morality of instinct, the sacrament of nature and
duty--or rather let me say it is miscalled a duty, for it flows from the
heart without effort, and is its delight, its indulgence, its enjoyment.
It is guided, not by the slow dictates of reason; it awaits not
encouragement from reflection or from thought; it asks no aid of memory;
it is an innate, but active, consciousness of having been the object of a
thousand tender solicitudes, a thousand waking watchful cares, of meek
anxiety and patient sacrifices unremarked and unrequited by the object.
It is a gratitude founded upon a conviction of obligations, not
remembered, but the more binding because not remembered,--because
conferred before the tender reason could acknowledge, or the infant
memory record them--a gratitude and affection, which no circumstances
should subdue, and which few can strengthen; a gratitude, in which even
injury from the object, though it may blend regret, should never breed
resentment; an affection which can be increased only by the decay of
those to whom we owe it, and which is then most fervent when the
tremulous voice of age, resistless in its feebleness, inquires for the
natural protector of its cold decline.

"If these are the general sentiments of man, what must be their
depravity, what must be their degeneracy, who can blot out and erase from
the bosom the virtue that is deepest rooted in the human heart, and
twined within the cords of life itself--aliens from nature, apostates
from humanity! And yet, if there is a crime more fell, more foul--if
there is any thing worse than a wilful persecutor of his mother--it is to
see a deliberate, reasoning instigator and abettor to the deed:--this it
is that shocks, disgusts, and appals the mind more than the other--to
view, not a wilful parricide, but a parricide by compulsion, a miserable
wretch, not actuated by the stubborn evils of his own worthless heart,
not driven by the fury of his own distracted brain, but lending his
sacrilegious hand, without any malice of his own, to answer the abandoned
purposes of the human fiends that have subdued his will!--To condemn
crimes like these, we need not talk of laws or of human rules--their
foulness, their deformity does not depend upon local constitutions, upon
human institutes or religious creeds:--they are crimes--and the persons
who perpetrate them are monsters who violate the primitive condition,
upon which the earth was given to man--they are guilty by the general
verdict of human kind."

In some of the sarcasms we are reminded of the quaint contrasts of his
dramatic style. Thus:--

"I must also do credit to them whenever I see any thing like lenity in
Mr. Middleton or his agent:--they do seem to admit here, that it was not
worth while to commit a massacre for the discount of a small note of
hand, and to put two thousand women and children to death, in order to
procure prompt payment."

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

"It is this circumstance of deliberation and consciousness of his
guilt--it is this that inflames the minds of those who watch his
transactions, and roots out all pity for a person who could act under
such an influence. We conceive of such tyrants as Caligula and Nero, bred
up to tyranny and oppression, having had no equals to control them--no
moment for reflection--we conceive that, if it could have been possible
to seize the guilty profligates for a moment, you might bring conviction
to their hearts and repentance to their minds. But when you see a cool,
reasoning, deliberate tyrant--one who was not born and bred to
arrogance,--who has been nursed in a mercantile line--who has been used
to look round among his fellow-subjects--to transact business with his
equals--to account for conduct to his master, and, by that wise system of
the Company, to detail all his transactions--who never could fly one
moment from himself, but must be obliged every night to sit down and hold
up a glass to his own soul--who could never be blind to his deformity,
and who must have brought his conscience not only to connive at but to
approve of it--_this_ it is that distinguishes it from the worst
cruelties, the worst enormities of those, who, born to tyranny, and
finding no superior, no adviser, have gone to the last presumption that
there were none above to control them hereafter. This is a circumstance
that aggravates the whole of the guilt of the unfortunate gentleman we
are now arraigning at your bar."

We now come to the Peroration, in which, skilfully and without appearance
of design, it is contrived that the same sort of appeal to the purity of
British justice, with which the oration opened, should, like the
repetition of a solemn strain of music, recur at its close,--leaving in
the minds of the Judges a composed and concentrated feeling of the great
public duty they had to perform, in deciding upon the arraignment of
guilt brought before them. The Court of Directors, it appeared, had
ordered an inquiry into the conduct of the Begums, with a view to the
restitution of their property, if it should appear that the charges
against them were unfounded; but to this proceeding Mr. Hastings
objected, on the ground that the Begums themselves had not called for
such interference in their favor, and that it was inconsistent with the
"Majesty of Justice" to condescend to volunteer her services. The pompous
and Jesuitical style in which this singular doctrine [Footnote: "If
nothing (says Mr. Mill) remained to stain the reputation of Mr. Hastings
but the principles avowed in this singular pleading, his character, among
the friends of justice, would be sufficiently determined."] is expressed,
in a letter addressed by the Governor-general to Mr. Macpherson, is thus
ingeniously turned to account by the orator, in winding up his masterly
statement to a close:--

'And now before I come to the last magnificent paragraph, let me call the
attention of those who, possibly, think themselves capable of judging of
the dignity and character of justice in this country;--let me call the
attention of those who, arrogantly perhaps, presume that they understand
what the features, what the duties of justice are here and in India;--let
them learn a lesson from this great statesman, this enlarged, this
liberal philosopher:--'I hope I shall not depart from the simplicity of
official language, in saying that the Majesty of Justice ought to be
approached with solicitation, not descend to provoke or invite it, much
less to debase itself by the suggestion of wrongs and the promise of
redress, with the denunciation of punishment before trial, and even
before accusation.' This is the exhortation which Mr. Hastings makes to
his counsel. This is the character which he gives of British justice.

       *       *       *       *       *

"But I will ask Your Lordships, do you approve this representation? Do
you feel that this is the true image of Justice? Is this the character of
British justice? Are these her features? Is this her countenance? Is this
her gait or her mien? No, I think even now I hear you calling upon me to
turn from this vile libel, this base caricature, this Indian pagod,
formed by the hand of guilty and knavish tyranny, to dupe the heart of
ignorance,--to turn from this deformed idol to the true Majesty of
Justice here. _Here_, indeed, I see a different form, enthroned by
the sovereign hand of Freedom,--awful without severity--commanding
without pride--vigilant and active without restlessness or
suspicion--searching and inquisitive without meanness or debasement--not
arrogantly scorning to stoop to the voice of afflicted innocence, and in
its loveliest attitude when bending to uplift the suppliant at its feet.

"It is by the majesty, by the form of that Justice, that I do conjure and
implore Your Lordships to give your minds to this great business; that I
exhort you to look, not so much to words, which may be denied or quibbled
away, but to the plain facts,--to weigh and consider the testimony in
your own minds: we know the result must be inevitable. Let the truth
appear and our cause is gained. It is this, I conjure Your Lordships, for
your own honor, for the honor of the nation, for the honor of human
nature, now entrusted to your care,--it is this duty that the Commons of
England, speaking through us, claims at your hands.

"They exhort you to it by every thing that calls sublimely upon the heart
of man, by the Majesty of that Justice which this bold man has libelled,
by the wide fame of your own tribunal, by the sacred pledge by which you
swear in the solemn hour of decision, knowing that that decision will
then bring you the highest reward that ever blessed the heart of man, the
consciousness of having done the greatest act of mercy for the world,
that the earth has ever yet received from any hand but Heaven.--My Lords,
I have done."

Though I have selected some of the most remarkable passages of this
Speech, [Footnote: I had selected many more, but must confess that they
appeared to me, when in print, so little worthy of the reputation of the
Speech, that I thought it would be, on the whole, more prudent to omit
them. Even of the passages, here cited, I speak rather from my
imagination of what they must have been, than from my actual feeling of
what they are. The character, given of such Reports, by Lord
Loughborough, is, no doubt, but too just. On a motion made by Lord
Stanhope, (April 29, 1794), that the short-hand writers, employed on
Hastings's trial, should be summoned to the bar of the House, to read
their minutes, Lord Loughborough, in the course of his observations on
the motion, said, "God forbid that ever their Lordships should call on
the short-hand writers to publish their notes; for, of all people,
short-hand writers were ever the farthest from correctness, and there
were no man's words they ever heard that they again returned. They were
in general ignorant, as acting mechanically; and by not considering the
antecedent, and catching the sound, and not the sense, they perverted the
sense of the speaker, and made him appear as ignorant as themselves."] it
would be unfair to judge of it even from these specimens. A Report,
_verbatim_, of any effective speech must always appear diffuse and
ungraceful in the perusal. The very repetitions, the redundancy, the
accumulation of epithets which gave force and momentum in the career of
delivery, but weaken and encumber the march of the style, when read.
There is, indeed, the same sort of difference between a faithful
short-hand Report, and those abridged and polished records which Burke
has left us of his speeches, as there is between a cast taken directly
from the face, (where every line is accurately preserved, but all the
blemishes and excrescences are in rigid preservation also,) and a model,
over which the correcting hand has passed, and all that was minute or
superfluous is generalized and softened away.

Neither was it in such rhetorical passages as abound, perhaps, rather
lavishly, in this Speech, that the chief strength of Mr. Sheridan's
talent lay. Good sense and wit were the great weapons of his
oratory--shrewdness in detecting the weak points of an adversary, and
infinite powers of raillery in exposing it. These were faculties which he
possessed in a greater degree than any of his contemporaries; and so well
did 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 it
for the higher flights of oratory, or to wander after Sense into that
region of metaphor, where too often, like Angelica in the enchanted
palace of Atlante, she is sought for in vain. [Footnote: Curran used to
say laughingly, "When I can't talk sense, I talk metaphor."] His
attempts, indeed, at the florid or figurative style, whether in his
speeches or his writings, were seldom very successful. That luxuriance of
fancy, which in Burke was natural and indigenous, was in him rather a
forced and exotic growth. It is a remarkable proof of this difference
between them, that while, in the memorandums of speeches left behind by
Burke, we find, that the points of argument and business were those which
he prepared, trusting to the ever ready wardrobe of his fancy for their
adornment,--in Mr. Sheridan's notes it is chiefly the decorative
passages, that are worked up beforehand to their full polish; while on
the resources of his good sense, ingenuity, and temper, he seems to have
relied for the management of his reasonings and facts. Hence naturally it
arises that the images of Burke, being called up on the instant, like
spirits, to perform the bidding of his argument, minister to it
throughout, with an almost coordinate agency; while the figurative
fancies of Sheridan, already prepared for the occasion, and brought forth
to adorn, not assist, the business of the discourse, resemble rather
those sprites which the magicians used to keep inclosed in phials, to be
produced 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 of
the Samson does not lie in those luxuriant locks, it would at least be
considerably diminished by their loss. Whereas, in the Speech of Mr.
Sheridan, which we have just been considering, there is hardly one of the
rhetorical ornaments that might not be detached, without, in any great
degree, injuring the force of the general statement. Another consequence
of this difference between them is observable in their respective modes
of transition, from what may be called the _business_ of a speech
its more generalized and rhetorical parts. When Sheridan rises, his
elevation is not sufficiently prepared; he starts abruptly and at once
from the level of his statement, and sinks down into it again with the
same suddenness. But Burke, whose imagination never allows even business
to subside into mere prose, sustains a pitch throughout which accustoms
the mind to wonder, and, while it prepares us to accompany him in his
boldest flights, makes us, even when he walks, still feel that he has
wings:--

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

The sincerity of the praises bestowed by Burke on the Speech of his
brother Manager has sometimes been questioned, but upon no sufficient
grounds. His zeal for the success of the Impeachment, no doubt, had a
considerable share in the enthusiasm, with which this great effort in its
favor filled him. It may be granted, too, that, in admiring the
apostrophes that variegate this speech, he was, in some degree, enamored
of a reflection of himself;

  "_Cunctaque miratur, 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 some
passages of it, "There,--that is the true style;--something between
poetry and prose, and better than either." The severer taste of Mr. Fox
dissented, as might be expected, from this remark. He replied, that "he
thought such a mixture was for the advantage of neither--as producing
poetic prose, or, still worse, prosaic poetry." It was, indeed, the
opinion of Mr. Fox, that the impression made upon Burke by these somewhat
too theatrical tirades is observable in the change that subsequently took
place in his own style of writing; and that the florid and less chastened
taste which some persons discover in his later productions, may all be
traced to the example of this speech. However this may be, or whether
there is really much difference, as to taste, between the youthful and
sparkling vision of the Queen of France in 1792, and the interview
between the Angel and Lord Bathurst in 1775, it is surely a most unjust
disparagement of the eloquence of Burke, to apply to it, at any time of
his life, the epithet "flowery,"--a designation only applicable to that
ordinary ambition of style, whose chief display, by necessity, consists
of ornament without thought, and pomp without substance. A succession of
bright images, clothed in simple, transparent language,--even when, as in
Burke, they "crowd upon the aching sense" too dazzlingly,--should never
be confounded with that mere verbal opulence of style, which mistakes the
glare of words for the glitter of ideas, and, like the Helen of the
sculptor Lysippus, makes finery supply the place of beauty. The
figurative definition of eloquence in the Book of Proverbs--"Apples of
gold in a net-work of silver"--is peculiarly applicable to that
enshrinement of rich, solid thoughts in clear and shining language, which
is the triumph of the imaginative class of writers and orators,--while,
perhaps, the net-work, _without_ the gold inclosed, is a type
equally significant of what is called "flowery" eloquence.

It is also, I think, a mistake, however flattering to my country, to call
the School of Oratory, to which Burke belongs, _Irish_. That
Irishmen are naturally more gifted with those stores of fancy, from which
the illumination of this high order of the art must be supplied, the
names of Burke, Grattan, Sheridan, Curran, Canning, and Plunkett,
abundantly testify. Yet had Lord Chatham, before any of these great
speakers were heard, led the way, in the same animated and figured strain
of oratory; [Footnote: His few noble sentences on the privilege of the
poor man's cottage are universally known. There is also his fanciful
allusion to the confluence of the Saone and Rhone, the traditional
reports of which vary, both as to the exact terms in which it was
expressed, and the persons to whom he applied it. Even Lord Orford does
not seem to have ascertained the latter point. To these may be added the
following specimen:--"I don't inquire from what quarter the wind cometh,
but whither it goeth; and, if any measure that comes from the Right
Honorable Gentleman tends to the public good, my bark is ready." Of a
different kind is that grand passage,--"America, they tell me, has
resisted--I rejoice to hear it,"--which Mr. Grattan used to pronounce
finer than anything in Demosthenes.] while another Englishman, Lord
Bacon, by making Fancy the hand-maid of Philosophy, had long since set an
example of that union of the imaginative and the solid, which, both in
writing and in speaking, forms the characteristic distinction of this
school.

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

But there was _one_ of this sex, more immediately interested in his
glory, who seems to have felt it as women alone can feel. "I have delayed
writing," says Mrs. Sheridan, in a letter to her sister-in-law, dated
four days after the termination of the Speech, "till I could gratify
myself and you by sending you the news of our dear Dick's triumph!--of
_our_ triumph I may call it; for surely, no one, in the slightest
degree connected with him, but must feel proud and happy. It is
impossible, my dear woman, to convey to you the delight, the
astonishment, the adoration, he has excited in the breasts of every class
of people! Every party-prejudice has been overcome by a display of
genius, eloquence and goodness, which no one with any thing like a heart
about them, could have listened to without being the wiser and the better
for the rest of their lives. What must _my_ feelings be!--you can
only imagine. To tell you the truth, it is with some difficulty that I
can 'let down my mind,' as Mr. Burke said afterwards, to talk or think on
any other subject. But pleasure, too exquisite, becomes pain, and I am at
this moment suffering for the delightful anxieties of last week."

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

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

"I am very glad to hear your father continues so well. Surely he must
feel happy and proud of such a son. I take it for granted you see the
newspapers: I assure you the accounts in them are not exaggerated, and
only echo the exclamation of admiration that is in every body's mouth. I
make no excuse for dwelling on this subject: I know you will not find it
tedious. God bless you--I am an invalid at present, and not able to write
long letters."

The agitation and want of repose, which Mrs. Sheridan here complains of,
arose not only from the anxiety which she so deeply felt, for the success
of this great public effort of her husband, but from the share which she
herself had taken, in the labor and attention necessary to prepare him
for it. The mind of Sheridan being, from the circumstances of his
education and life, but scantily informed upon all subjects for which
reading is necessary, required, of course, considerable training and
feeding, before it could venture to grapple with any new or important
task. He has been known to say frankly to his political friends, when
invited to take part in some question that depended upon authorities,
"You know I'm an ignoramus--but here I am--instruct me and I'll do my
best." It is said that the stock of numerical lore, upon which he
ventured to set up as the Aristarchus of Mr. Pitt's financial plans, was
the result of three weeks' hard study of arithmetic, to which he doomed
himself, in the early part of his Parliamentary career, on the chance of
being appointed, some time or other, Chancellor of the Exchequer. For
financial display it must be owned that this was rather a crude
preparation. But there are other subjects of oratory, on which the
outpourings of information, newly acquired, may have a freshness and
vivacity which it would be vain to expect, in the communication of
knowledge that has lain long in the mind, and lost in circumstantial
spirit what it has gained in general mellowness. They, indeed, who have
been regularly disciplined in learning, may be not only too familiar with
what they know to communicate it with much liveliness to others, but too
apt also to rely upon the resources of the memory, and upon those cold
outlines which it retains of knowledge whose details are faded. The
natural consequence of all this is that persons, the best furnished with
general information, are often the most vague and unimpressive on
particular subjects; while, on the contrary, an uninstructed man of
genius, like Sheridan, who approaches a topic of importance for the first
time, has not only the stimulus of ambition and curiosity to aid him in
mastering its details, but the novelty of first impressions to brighten
his general views of it--and, with a fancy thus freshly excited, himself,
is most sure to touch and rouse the imaginations of others.

This was particularly the situation of Mr. Sheridan with respect to the
history of Indian affairs; and there remain among his papers numerous
proofs of the labor which his preparation for this arduous task cost not
only himself but Mrs. Sheridan. Among others, there is a large pamphlet
of Mr. Hastings, consisting of more than two hundred pages, copied out
neatly in her writing, with some assistance from another female hand. The
industry, indeed, of all around him was put in requisition for this great
occasion--some, busy with the pen and scissors, making extracts--some
pasting and stitching his scattered memorandums in their places. So that
there was hardly a single member of the family that could not boast of
having contributed his share, to the mechanical construction of this
speech. The pride of its success was, of course, equally participated;
and Edwards, a favorite servant of Mr. Sheridan, who lived with him many
years, was long celebrated for his professed imitation of the manner in
which his master delivered (what seems to have struck Edwards as the
finest part of the speech) his closing words, "My Lords, I have done!"

The impeachment of Warren Hastings is one of those pageants in the drama
of public life, which show how fleeting are the labors and triumphs of
politicians--"what shadows they are, and what shadows they pursue." When
we consider the importance which the great actors in that scene attached
to it,--the grandeur with which their eloquence invested the cause, as
one in which the liberties and rights of the whole human race were
interested,--and then think how all that splendid array of Law and of
talent has dwindled away, in the view of most persons at present, into an
unworthy and harassing persecution of a meritorious and successful
statesman;--how those passionate appeals to justice, those vehement
denunciations of crime, which made the halls of Westminster and St.
Stephen's ring with their echoes, are now coldly judged, through the
medium of disfiguring Reports, and regarded, at the best, but as
rhetorical effusions, indebted to temper for their warmth, and to fancy
for their details;--while so little was the reputation of the delinquent
himself even scorched by the bolts of eloquence thus launched at him,
that a subsequent House of Commons thought themselves honored by his
presence, and welcomed him with such cheers [Footnote: When called as a
witness before the House, in 1813, on the subject of the renewal of the
East India Company's Charter.] as should reward only the friends and
benefactors of freedom;--when we reflect on this thankless result of so
much labor and talent, it seems wonderful that there should still be
found high and gifted spirits, to waste themselves away in such temporary
struggles, and, like that spendthrift of genius, Sheridan, to
_discount_ their immortality, for the payment of fame in hand which
these triumphs of the day secure to them.

For this direction, however, which the current of opinion has taken, with
regard to Mr. Hastings and his eloquent accusers, there are many very
obvious reasons to be assigned. Success, as I have already remarked, was
the dazzling talisman, which he waved in the eyes of his adversaries from
the first, and which his friends have made use of to throw a splendor
over his tyranny and injustice ever since. [Footnote: In the important
article of Finance, however, for which he made so many sacrifices of
humanity, even the justification of success was wanting to his measures.
The following is the account given by the Select Committee of the House
of Commons in 1810, of the state in which India was left by his
administration:--"The revenues had been absorbed; the pay and allowances
of both the civil and military branches of the service were greatly in
arrear; the credit of the Company was extremely depressed; and, added to
all, the whole system had fallen into such irregularity and confusion,
that the real state of affairs could not be _ascertained_ till the
conclusion of the year 1785-6."--_Third Report_.] Too often in the
moral logic of this world, it matters but little what the premises of
conduct may be, so the conclusion but turns out showy and prosperous.
There is also, it must be owned, among the English, (as perhaps, among
all free people,) a strong taste for the arbitrary, when they themselves
are not to be the victims of it, which invariably secures to such
accomplished despotisms, as that of Lord Strafford in Ireland, and
Hastings in India, even a larger share of their admiration than they are,
themselves, always willing to allow.

The rhetorical exaggerations, in which the Managers of the prosecution
indulged,--Mr. Sheridan, from imagination, luxuriating in its own
display, and Burke from the same cause, added to his overpowering
autocracy of temper--were but too much calculated to throw suspicion on
the cause in which they were employed, and to produce a reaction in favor
of the person whom they were meant to overwhelm. "_Rogo vos,
Judices_,"--Mr. Hastings might well have said,--"_si iste disertus
est, ideo me damnari oportet?_" [Footnote: Seneca, Controvers. lib.
iii. c. 19.]

There are also, without doubt, considerable allowances to be made, for
the difficult situations in which Mr. Hastings was placed, and those
impulses to wrong which acted upon him from all sides--allowances which
will have more or less weight with the judgment, according as it may be
more or less fastidiously disposed, in letting excuses for rapine and
oppression pass muster. The incessant and urgent demands of the Directors
upon him for money may palliate, perhaps, the violence of those methods
which he took to procure it for them; and the obstruction to his policy
which would have arisen from a strict observance of Treaties, may be
admitted, by the same gentle casuistry, as an apology for his frequent
infractions of them.

Another consideration to be taken into account, in our estimate of the
character of Mr. Hastings as a ruler, is that strong light of publicity,
which the practice in India of carrying on the business of government by
written documents threw on all the machinery of his measures,
deliberative as well as executive. These Minutes, indeed, form a record
of fluctuation and inconsistency--not only on the part of the
Governor-General, but of all the members of the government--a sort of
weather-cock diary of opinions and principles, shifting with the
interests or convenience of the moment, [Footnote: Instances of this, on
the part of Mr. Hastings, are numberless. In remarking upon his corrupt
transfer of the management of the Nabob's household in 1778, the
Directors say, "It is with equal surprise and concern that we observe
this request introduced, and the Nabob's ostensible rights so solemnly
asserted at this period by our Governor-General; because, on a late
occasion, to serve a very different purpose, he has not scrupled to
declare it as visible as the light of the sun, that the Nabob is a mere
pageant, and without even the shadow of authority." On another
transaction in 1781, Mr. Mill remarks:--"It is a curious moral spectacle
to compare the minutes and letters of the Governor-General, when, at the
beginning of the year 1780, maintaining the propriety of condemning the
Nabob to sustain the whole of the burden imposed upon him, and his
minutes and letters maintaining the propriety of relieving him from those
burthens in 1781. The arguments and facts adduced on the one occasion, as
well as the conclusion, are a flat contradiction to those exhibited on
the other."] which entirely takes away our respect even for success, when
issuing out of such a chaos of self-contradiction and shuffling. It
cannot be denied, however, that such a system of exposure--submitted, as
it 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 the
councils of few rulers could with impunity be brought. Where, indeed, is
the statesman that could bear to have his obliquities thus chronicled? or
where is the Cabinet that would not shrink from such an inroad of light
into its recesses?

The undefined nature, too, of that power which the Company exercised in
India, and the uncertain state of the Law, vibrating between the English
and the Hindoo codes, left such tempting openings for injustice as it was
hardly possible to resist. With no public opinion to warn off authority
from encroachment, and with the precedents set up by former rulers all
pointing the wrong way, it would have been difficult, perhaps, for even
more moderate men than Hastings, not occasionally to break bounds and go
continually astray.

To all these considerations in his favor is to be added the apparently
triumphant fact, that his government was popular among the natives of
India, and that his name is still remembered by them with gratitude and
respect.

Allowing Mr. Hastings, however, the full advantage of these and other
strong pleas in his defence, it is yet impossible, for any real lover of
justice and humanity, to read the plainest and least exaggerated history
of his government, [Footnote: Nothing can be more partial and misleading
than the coloring given to these transactions by Mr. Nicholls and other
apologists of Hastings. For the view which I have myself taken of the
whole case I am chiefly indebted to the able History of British India by
Mr. Mill--whose industrious research and clear analytical statements make
him the most valuable authority that can be consulted on the subject.

The mood of mind in which Mr. Nicholls listened to the proceedings of the
Impeachment may be judged from the following declaration, which he has
had the courage to promulgate to the public:--"On this Charge (the Begum
Charge) Mr. Sheridan made a speech, which both sides of the House
professed greatly to admire--for Mr. Pitt now openly approved of the
Impeachment. _I will acknowledge, that I did not admire this speech of
Mr. Sheridan."_] without feeling deep indignation excited at almost
every page of it. His predecessors had, it is true, been guilty of wrongs
as glaring--the treachery of Lord Clive to Omichund in 1757, and the
abandonment of Ramnarain to Meer Causim under the administration of Mr.
Vansittart, are stains upon the British character which no talents or
glory can do away. There are precedents, indeed, to be found, through the
annals of our Indian empire, for the formation of the most perfect code
of tyranny, in every department, legislative, judicial, and executive,
that ever entered into the dreams of intoxicated power. But, while the
practice of Mr. Hastings was, at least, as tyrannical as that of his
predecessors, the principles upon which he founded that practice were
still more odious and unpardonable. In his manner, indeed, of defending
himself he is his own worst accuser--as there is no outrage of power, no
violation of faith, that might not be justified by the versatile and
ambidextrous doctrines, the lessons of deceit and rules of rapine, which
he so ably illustrated by his measures, and has so shamelessly recorded
with his pen.

Nothing but an early and deep initiation in the corrupting school of
Indian politics could have produced the facility with which, as occasion
required, he could belie his own recorded assertions, turn hostilely
round upon his own expressed opinions, disclaim the proxies which he
himself had delegated, and, in short, get rid of all the inconveniences
of personal identity, by never acknowledging himself to be bound by any
engagement or opinion which himself had formed. To select the worst
features of his Administration is no very easy task; but the calculating
cruelty with which he abetted the extermination of the Rohillas--his
unjust and precipitate execution of Nuncomar, who had stood forth as his
accuser, and, therefore, became his victim,--his violent aggression upon
the Raja of Benares, and that combination of public and private rapacity,
which is exhibited in the details of his conduct to the royal family of
Oude;--these are acts, proved by the testimony of himself and his
accomplices, from the disgrace of which no formal acquittal upon points
of law can absolve him, and whose guilt the allowances of charity may
extenuate, but never can remove. That the perpetrator of such deeds
should have been popular among the natives of India only proves how low
was the standard of justice, to which the entire tenor of our policy had
accustomed them;--but that a ruler of this character should be held up to
admiration in England, is one of those anomalies with which England, more
than any other nation, abounds, and only inclines us to wonder that the
true worship of Liberty should so long have continued to flourish in a
country, where such heresies to her sacred cause are found.

I have dwelt so long upon the circumstances and nature of this Trial, not
only on account of the conspicuous place which it occupies in the
fore-ground of Mr. Sheridan's life, but because of that general interest
which an observer of our Institutions must take in it, from the clearness
with which it brought into view some of their best and worst features.
While, on one side, we perceive the weight of the popular scale, in the
lead taken, upon an occasion of such solemnity and importance, by two
persons brought forward from the middle ranks of society into the very
van of political distinction and influence, on the other hand, in the
sympathy and favor extended by the Court to the practical assertor of
despotic principles, we trace the prevalence of that feeling, which,
since the commencement of the late King's reign, has made the Throne the
rallying point of all that are unfriendly to the cause of freedom. Again,
in considering the conduct of the Crown Lawyers during the Trial--the
narrow and irrational rules of evidence which they sought to
establish--the unconstitutional control assumed by the Judges, over the
decisions of the tribunal before which the cause was tried, and the
refusal to communicate the reasons upon which those decisions were
founded--above all, too, the legal opinions expressed on the great
question relative to the abatement of an Impeachment by Dissolution, in
which almost the whole body of lawyers [Footnote: Among the rest, Lord
Erskine, who allowed his profession, on this occasion, to stand in the
light of his judgment. "As to a Nisi-prius lawyer (said Burke) giving an
opinion on the duration of an Impeachment--as well might a rabbit, that
breeds six times a year, pretend to know any thing of the gestation of an
elephant."] took the wrong, the pedantic, and the unstatesmanlike side of
the question,--while in all these indications of the spirit of that
profession, and of its propensity to tie down the giant Truth, with its
small threads of technicality and precedent, we perceive the danger to be
apprehended from the interference of such a spirit in politics, on the
other side, arrayed against these petty tactics of the Forum, we see the
broad banner of Constitutional Law, upheld alike by a Fox and a Pitt, a
Sheridan and a Dundas, and find truth and good sense taking refuge from
the equivocations of lawyers, in such consoling documents as the Report
upon the Abuses of the Trial by Burke--a document which, if ever a reform
of the English law should be attempted, will stand as a great guiding
light to the adventurers in that heroic enterprise.

It has been frequently asserted, that on the evening of Mr. Sheridan's
grand display in the House of Commons, The School for Scandal and the
Duenna were acted at Covent Garden and Drury Lane, and thus three great
audiences were at the same moment amused, agitated, and, as it were,
wielded by the intellect of one man. As this triple triumph of
talent--this manifestation of the power of Genius to multiply itself,
like an Indian god--was, in the instance of Sheridan, not only possible,
but within the scope of a very easy arrangement, it is to be lamented
that no such coincidence did actually take place, and that the ability to
have achieved the miracle is all that can be with truth attributed to
him. From a careful examination of the play-bills of the different
theatres during this period, I have ascertained, with regret, that
neither on the evening of the speech in the House of Commons, nor on any
of the days of the oration in Westminster Hall, was there, either at
Covent-Garden, Drury-Lane, or Haymarket theatres, any piece whatever of
Mr. Sheridan's acted.

The following passages of a letter from Miss Sheridan to her sister in
Ireland, written while on a visit with her brother in London, though
referring to a later period of the Trial, may without impropriety be
inserted here:--

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




CHAPTER II.

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


In the summer of this year the father of Mr. Sheridan died. He had been
recommended to try the air of Lisbon for his health, and had left Dublin
for that purpose, accompanied by his younger daughter. But the rapid
increase of his malady prevented him from proceeding farther than
Margate, where he died about the beginning of August, attended in his
last moments by his son Richard.

We have seen with what harshness, to use no stronger term, Mr. Sheridan
was for many years treated by his father, and how persevering and
affectionate were the efforts, in spite of many capricious repulses, that
he made to be restored to forgiveness and favor. In his happiest moments,
both of love and fame, the thought of being excluded from the paternal
roof came across him with a chill that seemed to sadden all his triumph.
[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 is
considered, too, that the father, to whom he felt thus amiably, had never
distinguished him by any particular kindness but, on the contrary, had
always shown a marked preference for the disposition and abilities of his
brother Charles--it is impossible not to acknowledge, in such true filial
affection, a proof that talent was not the only ornament of Sheridan, and
that, however unfavorable to moral culture was the life that he led,
Nature, in forming his mind, had implanted there virtue, as well as
genius.

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

Immediately on the death of their father, Sheridan removed his sister to
Deepden--a seat of the Duke of Norfolk in Surrey, which His Grace had
lately lent him--and then returned, himself, to Margate, to pay the last
tribute to his father's remains. The letters of Miss Sheridan are
addressed to her elder sister in Ireland, and the first which I shall
give entire, was written a day or two after her arrival at Deepden.

"MY DEAR LOVE,

"_Dibden, August 18._

"Though you have ever been uppermost in my thoughts, yet it has not been
in my power to write since the few lines I sent from Margate. I hope this
will find you, in some degree, recovered from the shock you must have
experienced from the late melancholy event. I trust to your own piety and
the tenderness of your worthy husband, for procuring you such a degree of
calmness of mind as may secure your health from injury. In the midst of
what I have suffered I have been thankful that you did not share a scene
of distress which 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 how
great it has been. He saw my father while he was still sensible, and
never quitted him till the awful moment was past--I will not now dwell on
particulars. My mind is not sufficiently recovered to enter on the
subject, and you could only be distressed by it. He returns soon to
Margate to pay the last duties in the manner desired by my father. His
feelings have been severely tried, and earnestly I pray he may not suffer
from that cause, or from the fatigue he has endured. His tenderness to me
I never can forget. I had so little claim on him, that I still feel a
degree of surprise mixed with my gratitude. Mrs. Sheridan's reception of
me was truly affectionate. They leave me to myself now as much as I
please, as I had gone through so much fatigue of body and mind that I
require some rest. I have not, as you may suppose, looked much beyond the
present hour, but I begin to be more composed. I could now enjoy your
society, and I wish for it hourly. I should think I may hope to see you
sooner in England than you had intended; but you will write to me very
soon, and let me know everything that concerns you. I know not whether
you will feel like me a melancholy pleasure in the reflection that my
father received the last kind offices from my brother Richard, [Footnote:
In a letter, from which I have given an extract in the early part of this
volume, written by the elder sister of Sheridan a short time after his
death, in referring to the differences that existed between him and his
father, she says--"and yet it was that son, and not the object of his
partial fondness, who at last closed his eyes." It generally happens that
the injustice of such partialities is revenged by the ingratitude of
those who are the objects of them; and the present instance, as there is
but too much reason to believe, was not altogether an exception to the
remark.] whose conduct on this occasion must convince every one of the
goodness of his heart and the truth of his filial affection. One more
reflection of consolation is, that nothing was omitted that could have
prolonged his life or eased his latter hours. God bless and preserve you,
my dear love. I shall soon write more to you, but shall for a short time
suspend my journal, as still too many painful thoughts will crowd upon me
to suffer me to regain such a frame of mind as I should wish when I write
to you.

"Ever affectionately your

"E. SHERIDAN."

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

"MY DEAR LOVE,

"_Dibden, Friday, 22._

"I shall endeavor to resume my journal, though my anxiety to hear from
you occupies my mind in a way that unfits me for writing. I have been
here almost a week in perfect quiet. While there was company in the
house, I stayed in my room, and since my brother's leaving us to go to
Margate, I have sat at times with Mrs. Sheridan, who is kind and
considerate; so that I have entire liberty. Her poor sister's [Footnote:
Mrs. Tickell.] children are all with her. The girl gives her constant
employment, and seems to profit by being under so good an instructor.
Their father was here for some days, but I did not see him. Last night
Mrs. S. showed me a picture of Mrs. Tickell, which she wears round her
neck. The thing was misrepresented to you;--it was not done after her
death, but a short time before it. The sketch was taken while she slept,
by a painter at Bristol. This Mrs. Sheridan got copied by Cosway, who has
softened down the traces of illness in such a way that the picture
conveys no gloomy idea. It represents her in a sweet sleep; which must
have been soothing to her friend, after seeing her for a length of time
in a state of constant suffering.

"My brother left us Wednesday morning, and we do not expect him to return
for some days. He meant only to stay at Margate long enough to attend the
last melancholy office, which it was my poor father's express desire
should be performed in whatever parish he died.

       *       *       *       *       *

"_Sunday_.

"Dick is still in town, and we do not expect him for some time. Mrs.
Sheridan seems now quite reconciled to these little absences, which she
knows are unavoidable. I never saw any one so constant in employing every
moment of her time, and to that I attribute, in a great measure, the
recovery of her health and spirits. The education of her niece, her
music, books, and work, occupy every minute of the day. After dinner, the
children, who call her "Mamma-aunt," spend some time with us, and her
manner to them is truly delightful. The girl, you know, is the eldest.
The eldest boy is about five years old, very like his father, but
extremely gentle in his manners. The youngest is past three. The whole
set then retire to the music-room. As yet I cannot enjoy their
parties;--a song from Mrs. Sheridan affected me last night in a most
painful manner. I shall not try the experiment soon again. Mrs. S. blamed
herself for putting me to the trial, and, after tea, got a book, which
she read to us till supper. This, I find, is the general way of passing
the evening.

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

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

"_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, a
further testimony has been kindly communicated to me by Mr. Jarvis, a
medical gentleman of Margate, who attended Mr. Thomas Sheridan on that
occasion, and whose interesting communication I shall here give in his
own words:--

"On the 10th of August, 1788, I was first called on to visit Mr.
Sheridan, who was then fast declining at his lodgings in this place,
where he was in the care of his daughter. On the next day Mr. R. B.
Sheridan arrived here from town, having brought with him Dr. Morris, of
Parliament street. I was in the bedroom with Mr. Sheridan when the son
arrived, and witnessed an interview in which the father showed himself to
be strongly impressed by his son's attention, saying with considerable
emotion, 'Oh Dick, I give you a great deal of trouble!' and seeming to
imply by his manner, that his son had been less to blame than himself,
for any previous want of cordiality between them.

"On my making my last call for the evening, Mr. R. B. Sheridan, with
delicacy, but much earnestness, expressed his fear that the nurse in
attendance on his father, might not be so competent as myself to the
requisite attentions, and his hope that I would consent to remain in the
room for a few of the first hours of the night; as he himself, having
been travelling the preceding night, required some short repose. I
complied with his request, and remained at the father's bed-side till
relieved by the son, about three o'clock in the morning:--he then
insisted on taking my place. From this time he never quitted the house
till his father's death; on the day after which he wrote me a letter, now
before me, of which the annexed is an exact copy:

'SIR,

'_Friday Morning_,

'I wished to see you this morning before I went, to thank you for your
attention and trouble. You will be so good to give the account to Mr.
Thompson, who will settle it; and I must further beg your acceptance of
the inclosed from myself.

'I am, Sir,

'Your obedient Servant,

'R. B. SHERIDAN.

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

"The inclosure, referred to in this letter, was a bank-note of ten
pounds,--a most liberal remuneration. Mr. R. B. Sheridan left Margate,
intending that his father should be buried in London; but he there
ascertained that it had been his father's expressed wish that he should
be buried in the parish next to that in which he should happen to die. He
then, consequently, returned to Margate, accompanied by his
brother-in-law, Mr. Tickell, with whom and Mr. Thompson and myself, he
followed his father's remains to the burial-place, which was not in
Margate church-yard, but in the north aisle of the church of St. Peter's."

Mr. Jarvis, the writer of the letter from which I have given this
extract, had once, as he informs me, the intention of having a cenotaph
raised, to the memory of Mr. Sheridan's father, in the church of Margate.
[Footnote: Though this idea was relinquished, it appears that a friend of
Mr. Jarvis, with a zeal for the memory of talent highly honorable to him,
has recently caused a monument to Mr. Thomas Sheridan to be raised in the
church of St. Peter.] With this view he applied to Dr. Parr for an
Inscription, and the following is the tribute to his old friend with
which that learned and kind-hearted man supplied him:--

"This monument, A. D. 1824, was, by subscription, erected to the memory
of Thomas Sheridan, Esq., who died in the neighboring parish of St. John,
August 14, 1788, in the 69th year of his age, and, according to his own
request, was there buried. He was grandson to Dr. Thomas Sheridan, the
brother of Dr. William, a conscientious non-juror, who, in 1691, was
deprived of the Bishopric of Kilmore. He was the son of Dr. Thomas
Sheridan, a profound scholar and eminent schoolmaster, intimately
connected with Dean Swift and other illustrious writers in the reign of
Queen Anne. He was husband to the ingenious and amiable author of Sidney
Biddulph and several dramatic pieces favorably received. He was father of
the celebrated orator and dramatist, Richard Brinsley Sheridan. He had
been the schoolfellow, and, through life, was the companion, of the
amiable Archbishop Markham. He was the friend of the learned Dr. Sumner,
master of Harrow School, and the well-known Dr. Parr. He took his first
academical degree in the University of Dublin, about 1736. He was honored
by the University of Oxford with the degree of A. M. in 1758, and in 1759
he obtained the same distinction at Cambridge. He, for many years,
presided over the theatre of Dublin; and, at Drury Lane, he in public
estimation stood next to David Garrick. In the literary world he was
distinguished by numerous and useful writings on the pronunciation of the
English language. Through some of his opinions ran a vein of singularity,
mingled with the rich ore of genius. In his manners there was dignified
ease;--in his spirit, invincible firmness;--and in his habits and
principles, 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 of
excitement in the new career to which he now devoted himself. A
succession of great questions, both foreign and domestic, came, one after
the other, like the waves described by the poet;--


  "And one no sooner 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 the
prosecution of Hastings, begun to abate, when the indisposition of the
King opened another field, not only for the display of all his various
powers, but for the fondest speculations of his interest and ambition.

The robust health and temperate habits of the Monarch, while they held
out the temptation of a long lease of power, to those who either enjoyed
or were inclined to speculate in his favor, gave proportionally the grace
of disinterestedness to the followers of an Heir-Apparent, whose means of
rewarding their devotion were, from the same causes, uncertain and
remote. The alarming illness of the Monarch, however, gave a new turn to
the prospect:--Hope was now seen, like the winged Victory of the
ancients, to change sides; and both the expectations of those who looked
forward to the reign of the Prince, as the great and happy millennium of
Whiggism, and the apprehensions of the far greater number, to whom the
morals of his Royal Highness and his friends were not less formidable
than their politics, seemed now on the very eve of being realized.

On the first meeting of Parliament, after the illness of His Majesty was
known, it was resolved, from considerations of delicacy, that the House
should adjourn for a fortnight; at the end of which period it was
expected that another short adjournment would be proposed by the
Minister. In this interval, the following judicious letter was addressed
to the Prince of Wales by Mr. Sheridan:--

"SIR,

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

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

"MY DEAR SHERIDAN,

"_Half past ten at night_.

"I arrived here about three quarters of an hour after Pitt had left it. I
inclose you the copy of a letter the Prince has just written to the
Chancellor, and sent by express, which will give you the outline of the
conversation with the Prince, as well as the situation of the King's
health. I think it an advisable measure, [Footnote: Meaning, the
communication 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, I
think, understand best himself. Pitt desired the longest delay that could
be granted with propriety, previous to the declaration of the present
calamity. The Duke of York, who is looking over me, and is just come out
of the King's room, bids me add that His Majesty's situation is every
moment becoming worse. His pulse is weaker and weaker; and the Doctors
say it is impossible to survive it long, if his situation does not take
some _extraordinary_ change in a few hours.

"So far I had got when your servant came, meaning to send this by the
express that carried the Chancellor's letter; in addition to which, the
Prince has desired Doctor Warren to write an account to him, which he is
now doing. His letter says, if an amendment does not take place in
twenty-four hours, it is impossible for the King to support it:--he adds
to me, he will answer for his never living to be declared a lunatic. I
say all this to you in confidence, (though I will not answer for being
intelligible,) as it goes by your own servant; but I need not add, your
own discretion will remind you how necessary it is that neither my name
nor those I use should be quoted even to many of our best friends, whose
repetition, without any ill intention, might frustrate views they do not
see.

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

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

"Good night.--I will write upon every occasion that information may be
useful.

"Ever yours, most sincerely,

"J. W. PAYNE.

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

"DEAR SHERIDAN,

"_Twelve o'clock, noon._

"The King last night about twelve o'clock, being then in a situation he
could not long have survived, by the effect of James's powder, had a
profuse stool, after which a strong perspiration appeared, and he fell
into a profound sleep. We were in hopes this was the crisis of his
disorder, although the doctors were fearful it was so only with respect
to one part of his disorder. However, these hopes continued not above an
hour, when he awoke, with a well-conditioned skin, no extraordinary
degree of fever, but with the exact state he was in before, with all the
gestures and ravings of the most confirmed maniac, and a new noise, in
imitation of the howling of a dog; in this situation he was this morning
at one o'clock, when we came to bed. The Duke of York, who has been twice
in my room in the course of the night, immediately from the King's
apartment, says there has not been one moment of lucid interval during
the whole night,--which, I must observe to you, is the concurring, as
well as _fatal_ testimony of all about him, from the first moment of
His Majesty's confinement. The doctors have since had their consultation,
and find His Majesty calmer, and his pulse tolerably good and much
reduced, but the most decided symptoms of insanity. His theme has been
all this day on the subject of religion, and of his being inspired, from
which his physicians draw the worst consequences, as to any hopes of
amendment. In this situation His Majesty remains at the present moment,
which I give you at length, to prevent your giving credit to the thousand
ridiculous reports that we hear, even upon the spot. Truth is not easily
got at in palaces, and so I find here; and time only slowly brings it to
one's knowledge. One hears a little bit every day from somebody, that has
been reserved with great costiveness, or purposely forgotten; and by all
such accounts I find that the present distemper has been very palpable
for some time past, previous to any confinement from sickness; and so
apprehensive have the people about him been of giving offence by
interruption, that the two days (viz. yesterday se'nnight and the Monday
following) that he was five hours each on horseback, he was in a
confirmed frenzy. On the Monday at his return he burst out into tears to
the Duke of York, and said, 'He wished to God he might die, I for he was
going to be mad;' and the Queen, who sent to Dr. Warren, on his arrival,
privately communicated her knowledge of his situation for some time past,
and the melancholy event as it stood exposed. I am prolix upon all these
different reports, that you may be completely master of the subject as it
stands, and which I shall continue to advertise you of in all its
variations. Warren, who is the living principle in this business, (for
poor Baker is half crazed himself,) and who I see every half hour, is
extremely attentive to the King's disorder. The various fluctuations of
his ravings, as well as general situation of his health, are accurately
written down throughout the day, and this we have got signed by the
Physician every day, and all proper inquiry invited; for I think it
necessary to do every thing that may prevent their making use hereafter
of any thing like jealousy, suspicion, or mystery, to create public
distrust; and, therefore, the best and most unequivocal means of
satisfaction shall be always attended to.

"_Five o'clock, P.M._

"So far I had proceeded when I was, on some business of importance,
obliged to break off till now; and, on my return, found your letter;--I
need not, I hope, say your confidence is as safe as if it was returned to
your own mind, and your advice will always be thankfully adopted. The
event we looked for last night is postponed, perhaps for a short time, so
that, at least, we shall have time to consider more maturely. The Doctors
told Pitt they would beg not to be obliged to make their declaration for
a fortnight as to the incurability of the King's mind, and not to be
surprised if, at the expiration of that time, they should ask more time;
but that they were perfectly ready to declare now for the furtherance of
public business, that he is now insane; that it appears to be unconnected
with any other disease of his body, and that they have tried all their
skill without effect, and that to the _disease they at present see no
end in their contemplation:_--these are their own words, which is all
that can be implied in an absolute declaration,--for infallibility cannot
be ascribed to them.

"Should not something be done about the public amusements? If it was
represented to Pitt, it might embarrass them either way; particularly as
it might call for a public account every day. I think the Chancellor
might take a good opportunity to break with his colleagues, if they
propose restriction, the Law authority would have great weight with us,
as well as preventing even a design of moving the City;--at all events, I
think Parliament would not confirm their opinion. If Pitt stirs much, I
think any attempt to _grasp at power_ might be fatal to his
interest, at least, well turned against it.

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

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

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

The following letter from Admiral Payne, written immediately after the
return of Mr. Fox, contains some further allusions to the negotiations
with the Chancellor:--

"MY DEAR SHERIDAN,

"I am this moment returned with the Prince from riding, and heard, with
great pleasure, of Charles Fox's arrival; on which account, he says, I
must go to town to-morrow, when I hope to meet you at his house some time
before dinner. The Prince is to see the Chancellor to-morrow, and
therefore he wishes I should be able to carry to town the result of this
interview, or I would set off immediately. Due deference is had to our
_former opinion_ upon this subject, and no courtship will be
practised; for the chief object in the visit is to show him the King, who
has been worse the two last days than ever: this morning he made an
effort to jump out of the window, and is now very turbulent and
incoherent. Sir G. Baker went yesterday to give Pitt a little specimen of
his loquacity, in his discovery of some material state-secrets, at which
he looked astonished. The Physicians wish him to be removed to Kew; on
which we shall proceed as we settled. Have you heard any thing of the
Foreign Ministers respecting what the P. said at Bagshot? The Frenchman
has been here two days running, but has not seen the Prince. He sat with
me half an hour this morning, and seemed much disposed to confer a little
closely. He was all admiration and friendship for the Prince, and said he
was sure _every body_ would unite to give vigor to his government.

"To-morrow you shall hear particulars; in the mean time I can only add I
have none of the apprehensions contained in Lord L.'s letter. I have had
correspondence enough myself on this subject to convince me of the
impossibility of the Ministry managing the present Parliament by any
contrivance hostile to the Prince. Dinner is on table; so adieu; and be
assured of the truth and sincerity of

"Yours affectionately,

"_Windsor, Monday, 5 o'clock, P. M._

"J. W. P.

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

The situation in which Mr. Fox was placed by the treaty thus commenced,
before his arrival, with the Chancellor, was not a little embarrassing.
In addition to the distaste which he must have felt for such a union, he
had been already, it appears, in some degree pledged to bestow the Great
Seal, in the event of a change, upon Lord Loughborough. Finding, however,
the Prince and his party so far committed in the negotiation with Lord
Thurlow, he thought it expedient, however contrary to his own wishes, to
accede to their views; and a letter, addressed by him to Mr. Sheridan on
the occasion, shows the struggle with his own feelings and opinions,
which this concession cost him:--

"DEAR SHERIDAN,

"I have swallowed the pill,--a most bitter one it was,--and have written
to Lord Loughborough, whose answer of course must be consent. What is to
be done next? Should the Prince himself, you, or I, or Warren, be the
person to speak to the Chancellor? The objection to the last is, that he
must probably wait for an opportunity, and that no time is to be lost.
Pray tell me what is to be done: I am convinced, after all, the
negotiation will not succeed, and am not sure that I am sorry for it. I
do not remember ever feeling so uneasy about any political thing I ever
did in my life. Call if you can.

"Yours ever,

"C. J. F."

_Sat. past 12._

Lord Loughborough, in the mean time, with a vigilance quickened by his
own personal views, kept watch on the mysterious movements of the
Chancellor; and, as appears by the following letter, not only saw reason
to suspect duplicity himself, but took care that Mr. Fox and Mr. Sheridan
should share in his distrust:--

"MY DEAR S.

"I was afraid to pursue the conversation on the circumstance of the
Inspection committed to the Chancellor, lest the reflections that arise
upon it might have made too strong an impression on some of our neighbors
last night. It does indeed appear to me full of mischief, and of that
sort most likely to affect the apprehensions of our best friends, (of
Lord John for instance,) and to increase their reluctance to take any
active part.

"The Chancellor's object evidently is to make his way by himself, and he
has managed hitherto as one very well practised in that game. His
conversations, both with you and Mr. Fox, were encouraging, but at the
same time checked all explanations on his part under a pretence of
delicacy towards his colleagues. When he let them go to Salthill and
contrived to dine at Windsor, he certainly took a step that most men
would have felt not very delicate in its appearance, and unless there was
some private understanding between him and them, not altogether fair;
especially if you add to it the sort of conversation he held with regard
to them. I cannot help thinking that the difficulties of managing the
patient have been excited or improved to lead to the proposal of his
inspection, (without the Prince being conscious of it,) for by that
situation he gains an easy and frequent access to him, and an opportunity
of possessing the confidence of the Queen. I believe this the more from
the account of the tenderness he showed at his first interview, for I am
sure, it is not in his character to feel any. With a little instruction
from Lord Hawksbury, the sort of management that was carried on by means
of the Princess-Dowager, in the early part of the reign, may easily be
practised. In short, I think he will try to find the key of the back
stairs, and, with that in his pocket, take any situation that preserves
his access, and enables him to hold a line between different parties. In
the present moment, however, he has taken a position that puts the
command 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 you
think they deserve, and try if any means can be taken to remedy this
mischief, if it appears in the same light to you.

"Ever yours, &c."

What were the motives that induced Lord Thurlow to break off so suddenly
his negotiation with the Prince's party, and declare himself with such
vehemence on the side of the King and Mr. Pitt, it does not appear very
easy to ascertain. Possibly, from his opportunities of visiting the Royal
Patient, he had been led to conceive sufficient hopes of recovery, to
incline the balance of his speculation that way; or, perhaps, in the
influence of Lord Loughborough [Footnote: Lord Loughborough is supposed
to have been the person who instilled into the mind of Mr. Fox the idea
of advancing that claim of right for the Prince, which gave Mr. Pitt, in
principle 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 negotiation
with the Whigs had been amicably carried on, till within a few hours of
his delivery of that speech, from whose enthusiasm the public could
little suspect how fresh from the incomplete bargain of defection was the
speaker, and in the course of which he gave vent to the well-known
declaration, that "his debt of gratitude to His Majesty was ample, for
the many favors he had graciously conferred upon him, which, when he
forgot, 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 their
pages with details that belong more properly to History, I shall forbear
to enter into a minute or consecutive narrative of the proceedings of
Parliament on the important subject of the Regency. A writer of political
biography has a right, no doubt, like an engineer who constructs a
navigable canal, to lay every brook and spring in the neighborhood under
contribution for the supply and enrichment of his work. But, to turn into
it the whole contents of the Annual Register and Parliamentary Debates is
a sort of literary engineering, not quite so laudable, which, after the
example set by a Right Reverend biographer of Mr. Pitt, will hardly again
be attempted by any one, whose ambition, at least, it is to be read as
well as bought.

Mr. Fox and Mr. Pitt, it is well known, differed essentially, not only
with respect to the form of the proceedings, which the latter recommended
in that suspension of the Royal authority, but also with respect to the
abstract constitutional principles, upon which those proceedings of the
Minister were professedly founded. As soon as the nature of the malady,
with which the King was afflicted, had been ascertained by a regular
examination of the physicians in attendance on His Majesty, Mr. Pitt
moved (on the 10th of December), that a "Committee be appointed to
examine and report precedents of such proceedings as may have been had,
in case of the personal exercise of the Royal authority being prevented
or interrupted, by infancy, sickness, infirmity, or otherwise, with a
view to provide for the same." [Footnote: Mr. Burke and Mr. Sheridan were
both members of this committee, and the following letter from the former
to Sheridan refers to it:--

"MY DEAR SIR,

"My idea was, that on Fox's declaring that the precedents, neither
individually nor collectively, do at all apply, our attendance ought to
have been merely formal. But as you think otherwise, I shall certainly be
at the committee soon after one. I rather think, that they will not
attempt to garble: because, supposing the precedents to apply, the major
part are certainly in their favor. It is not likely that they mean to
suppress,--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 that
inconsiderate claim of Right for the Prince of Wales, of which his rival
availed himself so dexterously and triumphantly. Having asserted that
there existed no precedent whatever that could bear upon the present
case, Mr. Fox proceeded to say, that "the circumstance to be provided for
did not depend upon their deliberations as a House of Parliament,--it
rested elsewhere. There was then a person in the kingdom, different from
any other person that any existing precedents could refer to,--an Heir
Apparent, of full age and capacity to exercise the royal power. It
behoved them, therefore, to waste not a moment unnecessarily, but to
proceed with all becoming speed and diligence to restore the Sovereign
power and the exercise of the Royal Authority. From what he had read of
history, from the ideas he had formed of the law, and, what was still
more precious, of the spirit of the Constitution, from every reasoning
and analogy drawn from those sources, he declared that he had not in his
mind a doubt, and he should think himself culpable if he did not take the
first opportunity of declaring it, that, in the present condition of His
Majesty, His Royal Highness the Prince of Wales had as clear, as express
a Right to exercise the power of Sovereignty, during the continuance of
the illness and incapacity, with which it had pleased God to afflict His
Majesty, as in the case of His Majesty's having undergone a natural
demise."

It is said that, during the delivery of this adventurous opinion, the
countenance of Mr. Pitt was seen to brighten with exultation at the
mistake into which he perceived his adversary was hurrying; and scarcely
had the sentence, just quoted, been concluded, when, slapping his thigh
triumphantly, he turned to the person who sat next to him, and said,
"I'll _un-Whig_ the gentleman for the rest of his life!"

Even without this anecdote, which may be depended upon as authentic, we
have sufficient evidence that such were his feelings in the burst of
animation and confidence with which he instantly replied to Mr.
Fox,--taking his ground, with an almost equal temerity, upon the directly
opposite doctrine, and asserting, not only that "in the case of the
interruption of the personal exercise of the Royal Authority, it devolved
upon the other branches of the Legislature to provide a substitute for
that authority," but that "the Prince of Wales had no more right to
exercise the powers of government than any other person in the realm."

The truth is, the assertion of a _Right_ was equally erroneous, on
both sides of the question. The Constitution having provided no legal
remedy for such an exigence as had now occurred, the two Houses of
Parliament had as little right (in the strict sense of the word) to
supply the deficiency of the Royal power, as the Prince had to be the
person elected or adjudged for that purpose. Constitutional analogy and
expediency were the only authorities by which the measures necessary in
such a conjuncture could be either guided or sanctioned; and if the
disputants on each side had softened down their tone to this true and
practical view of the case, there would have been no material difference,
in the first stage of the proceedings between them,--Mr. Pitt being
ready to allow that the Heir Apparent was the obvious person to whom
expediency pointed as the depository of the Royal power, and Mr. Fox
having granted, in a subsequent explanation of his doctrine, that, strong
as was the right upon which the claim of the Prince was founded, His
Royal Highness could not assume that right till it had been formally
adjudicated to him by Parliament. The principle, however, having been
imprudently broached, Mr. Pitt was too expert a tactician not to avail
himself of the advantage it gave him. He was thus, indeed, furnished with
an opportunity, not only of gaining time by an artful protraction of the
discussions, but of occupying victoriously the ground of Whiggism, which
Mr. Fox had, in his impatience or precipitancy, deserted, and of thus
adding to the character, which he had recently acquired, of a defender of
the prerogatives of the Crown, the more brilliant reputation of an
assertor of the rights of the people.

In the popular view which Mr. Pitt found it convenient to take of this
question, he was led, or fell voluntarily into some glaring errors, which
pervaded the whole of his reasonings on the subject. In his anxiety to
prove the omnipotence of Parliament, he evidently confounded the Estates
of the realm with the Legislature, [Footnote: Mr. Grattan and the Irish
Parliament carried this error still farther, and founded all their
proceedings on the necessity of "providing for the deficiency of the
Third _Estate_."] and attributed to two branches of the latter such
powers as are only legally possessed by the whole three in Parliament
assembled. For the purpose, too, of flattering the people with the notion
that to them had now reverted the right of choosing their temporary
Sovereign, he applied a principle, which ought to be reserved for extreme
cases, to an exigence by no means requiring this ultimate appeal,--the
defect in the government being such as the still existing Estates of the
realm, appointed to speak the will of the people, but superseding any
direct exercise of their power, were fully competent, as in the instance
of the Revolution, to remedy. [Footnote: The most luminous view that has
been taken of this Question is to be found in an Article of the Edinburgh
Review, on the Regency of 1811,--written by one of the most learned and
able men of our day, Mr. John Allen.]

Indeed, the solemn use of such language as Mr. Pitt, in his over-acted
Whiggism, employed upon this occasion,--namely, that the "right" of
appointing a substitute for the Royal power was "to be found in the voice
and the sense of the people,"--is applicable only to those conjunctures,
brought on by misrule and oppression, when all forms are lost in the
necessity of relief, and when the right of the people to change and
choose their rulers is among the most sacred and inalienable that either
nature or social polity has ordained. But, to apply the language of that
last resource to the present emergency was to brandish the sword of
Goliath [Footnote: A simile applied by Lord Somers to the power of
Impeachment, which, he said, "should be like Goliath's sword, kept in the
temple, and not used but upon great occasions."] on an occasion that by
no means called for it.

The question of the Prince's claim,--in spite of the efforts of the
Prince himself and of his Royal relatives to avert the agitation of
it,--was, for evident reasons, forced into discussion by the Minister,
and decided by a majority, not only of the two Houses but of the nation,
in his favor. During one of the long debates to which the question gave
rise, Mr. Sheridan allowed himself to be betrayed into some expressions,
which, considering the delicate predicament in which the Prince was
placed by the controversy, were not marked with his usual tact and
sagacity. In alluding to the claim of Right advanced for His Royal
Highness, and deprecating any further agitation of it, he "reminded the
Right Honorable Gentleman (Mr. Pitt) of the danger of provoking that
claim to be asserted [a loud cry of hear! hear!], which, he observed, had
not yet been preferred. [Another cry of hear! hear!]" This was the very
language that Mr. Pitt most wished his adversaries to assume, and,
accordingly, he turned it to account with all his usual mastery and
haughtiness. "He had now," he said, "an additional reason for asserting
the authority of the House, and defining the boundaries of Right, when
the deliberative faculties of Parliament were invaded, and an indecent
menace thrown out to awe and influence their proceedings. In the
discussion of the question, the House, he trusted, would do their duty,
in spite of any threat that might be thrown out. Men, who felt their
native freedom, would not submit to a threat, however high the authority
from which it might come." [Footnote: _Impartial Report of all the
Proceedings on the Subject of the Regency_]

The restrictions of the Prerogative with which Mr. Pitt thought proper to
encumber the transfer of the Royal power to the Prince, formed the second
great point of discussion between the parties, and brought equally
adverse principles into play. Mr. Fox, still maintaining his position on
the side of Royalty, defended it with much more tenable weapons than the
question of Right had enabled him to wield. So founded, indeed, in the
purest principles of Whiggism did he consider his opposition, on this
memorable occasion, to any limitation of the Prerogative in the hands of
a Regent, that he has, in his History of James II., put those principles
deliberately upon record, as a fundamental article in the creed of his
party. The passage to which I allude occurs in his remarks upon the
Exclusion Bill; and as it contains, in a condensed form, the spirit of
what he urged on the same point in 1789, I cannot do better than lay his
own words before the reader. After expressing his opinion that, at the
period of which he writes, the measure of exclusion from the monarchy
altogether would have been preferable to any limitation of its powers, he
proceeds to say:--"The Whigs, who consider the powers of the Crown as a
trust for the people, a doctrine which the Tories themselves, when pushed
in argument, will sometimes admit, naturally think it their duty rather
to change the manager of the trust than impair the subject of it; while
others, who consider them as the right or property of the King, will as
naturally act as they would do in the case of any other property, and
consent to the loss or annihilation of any part of it, for the purpose of
preserving the remainder to him, whom they style the rightful owner."
Further on he adds:--"The Royal Prerogative ought, according to the
Whigs, to be reduced to such powers as are in their exercise beneficial
to the people; and of the benefit of these they will not rashly suffer
the people to be deprived, whether the executive power be in the hands of
an hereditary or of an elective King, of a Regent, or of any other
denomination of magistrate; while, on the other hand, they who consider
Prerogative with reference only to Royalty will, with equal readiness,
consent either to the extension or the suspension of its exercise, as the
occasional interests of the Prince may seem to require."

Taking this as a correct exposition of the doctrines of the two parties,
of which Mr. Fox and Mr. Pitt may be considered to have been the
representatives in the Regency question of 1789, it will strike some
minds that, however the Whig may flatter himself that the principle by
which he is guided in such exigencies is favorable to liberty, and
however the Tory may, with equal sincerity, believe his suspension of the
Prerogative on these occasions to be advantageous to the Crown, yet that
in both of the principles, so defined, there is an evident tendency to
produce effects, wholly different from those which the parties professing
them contemplate.

On the one side, to sanction from authority the notion, that there are
some powers of the Crown which may be safely dispensed with,--to accustom
the people to an abridged exercise of the Prerogative, with the risk of
suggesting to their minds that its full efficacy needs not be
resumed,--to set an example, in short, of reducing the Kingly Power,
which, by its success, may invite and authorize still further
encroachments,--all these are dangers to which the alleged doctrine of
Toryism, whenever brought into practice, exposes its idol; and more
particularly in enlightened and speculative times, when the minds of men
are in quest of the right and the useful, and when a superfluity of power
is one of those abuses, which they are least likely to overlook or
tolerate. In such seasons, the experiment of the Tory might lead to all
that he most deprecates, and the branches of the Prerogative, once cut
away, might, like the lopped boughs of the fir-tree, never grow again.

On the other hand, the Whig, who asserts that the Royal Prerogative ought
to be reduced to such powers as are beneficial to the people, and yet
stipulates, as an invariable principle, for the transfer of that
Prerogative full and unimpaired, whenever it passes into other hands,
appears, even more perhaps than the Tory, to throw an obstacle in the way
of his own object. Circumstances, it is not denied, may arise when the
increase of the powers of the Crown, in other ways, may render it
advisable to control some of its established prerogatives. But, where are
we to find a fit moment for such a reform,--or what opening will be left
for it by this fastidious Whig principle, which, in 1680, could see no
middle step between a change of the Succession and an undiminished
maintenance of the Prerogative, and which, in 1789, almost upon the heels
of a Declaration that "the power of the Crown had increased and ought to
be diminished," protested against even an experimental reduction of it!

According to Mr. Fox, it is a distinctive characteristic of the Tory, to
attach more importance to the person of the King than to his office. But,
assuredly, the Tory is not singular in this want of political
abstraction; and, in England, (from a defect, Hume thinks, inherent in
all limited monarchies,) the personal qualities and opinions of the
Sovereign have considerable influence upon the whole course of public
affairs,--being felt alike in that courtly sphere around them where their
attraction acts, and in that outer circle of opposition where their
repulsion comes into play. To this influence, then, upon the government
and the community, of which no abstraction can deprive the person of the
monarch, the Whig principle in question (which seems to consider
entireness of Prerogative as necessary to a King, as the entireness of
his limbs was held to be among the Athenians,) superadds the vast power,
both actual and virtual, which would flow from the inviolability of the
Royal office, and forecloses, so far, the chance which the more pliant
Tory doctrine would leave open, of counteracting the effects of the
King's indirect personal influence, by curtailing or weakening the grasp
of some of his direct regal powers. Ovid represents the Deity of Light
(and on an occasion, too, which may be called a Regency question) as
crowned with movable rays, which might be put off when too strong or
dazzling. But, according to this principle, the crown of Prerogative must
keep 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 doctrine
was enforced in 1789, its manifest tendency, in most cases, to secure a
perpetuity of superfluous powers to the Crown, appears to render it
unfit, at least as an invariable principle, for any party professing to
have the liberty of the people for their object. The Prince, in his
admirable Letter upon the subject of the Regency to Mr. Pitt, was made to
express the unwillingness which he felt "that in his person an experiment
should be made to ascertain with how small a portion of kingly power the
executive government of the country might be carried on;"--but
imagination has not far to go in supposing a case, where the enormous
patronage vested in the Crown, and the consequent increase of a Royal
bias through the community, might give such an undue and unsafe
preponderance to that branch of the Legislature, as would render any safe
opportunity, however acquired, of ascertaining with _how much less
power_ the executive government could be carried on, most acceptable,
in spite of any dogmas to the contrary, to all true lovers as well of the
monarchy as of the people.

Having given thus much consideration to the opinions and principles,
professed on both sides of this constitutional question, it is
mortifying, after all, to be obliged to acknowledge, that, in the
relative situation of the two parties at the moment, may be found perhaps
the real, and but too natural, source of the decidedly opposite views
which they took of the subject. Mr. Pitt, about to surrender the
possession of power to his rival, had a very intelligible interest in
reducing the value of the transfer, and (as a retreating army spike the
guns they leave behind) rendering the engines of Prerogative as useless
as possible to his successor. Mr. Fox, too, had as natural a motive to
oppose such a design; and, aware that the chief aim of these restrictive
measures was to entail upon the Whig ministry of the Regent a weak
Government and strong Opposition, would, of course, eagerly welcome the
aid of any abstract principle, that might sanction him in resisting such
a mutilation of the Royal power;--well knowing that (as in the case of
the Peerage Bill in the reign of George I.) the proceedings altogether
were actuated more by ill-will to the successor in the trust, than by any
sincere zeal for the purity of its exercise.

Had the situations of the two leaders been reversed, it is more than
probable that their modes of thinking and acting would have been so
likewise. Mr. Pitt, with the prospect of power before his eyes, would
have been still more strenuous, perhaps, for the unbroken transmission of
the Prerogative--his natural leaning on the side of power being increased
by his own approaching share in it. Mr. Fox, too, if stopped, like his
rival, in a career of successful administration, and obliged to surrender
up the reins of the state to Tory guidance, might have found in his
popular principles a still more plausible pretext, for the abridgment of
power in such unconstitutional hands. He might even too, perhaps, (as his
India Bill warrants us in supposing) have been tempted into the same sort
of alienation of the Royal patronage, as that which Mr. Pitt now
practised in the establishment of the Queen, and have taken care to leave
behind him a stronghold of Whiggism, to facilitate the resumption of his
position, whenever an opportunity might present itself. Such is human
nature, even in its noblest specimens, and so are the strongest spirits
shaped by the mould in which chance and circumstances have placed them.

Mr. Sheridan spoke frequently in the Debates on this question, but his
most important agency lay in the less public business connected with it.
He was the confidential adviser of the Prince throughout, directed every
step he took, and was the author of most of his correspondence on the
subject. There is little doubt, I think, that the celebrated and masterly
Letter to Mr. Pitt, which by some persons has been attributed to Burke,
and by others to Sir Gilbert Elliot (afterwards Lord Minto), was
principally the production of Mr. Sheridan. For the supposition that it
was written by Burke there are, besides the merits of the production, but
very scanty grounds. So little was he at that period in those habits of
confidence with the Prince, which would entitle him to be selected for
such a task in preference to Sheridan, that but eight or ten days before
the date of this letter (Jan. 2.) he had declared in the House of
Commons, that "he knew as little of the inside of Carlton House as he did
of Buckingham House." Indeed, the violent state of this extraordinary
man's temper, during the whole of the discussions and proceedings on the
Regency, would have rendered him, even had his intimacy with the Prince
been closer, an unfit person for the composition of a document, requiring
so much caution, temper, and delicacy.

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

I may also add that an eminent statesman of the present day, who was at
that period, though very young, a distinguished friend of Mr. Sheridan,
and who has shown by the ability of his own State Papers that he has not
forgot the lessons of that school from which this able production
emanated, remembers having heard some passages of the Letter discussed in
Bruton-street, as if it were then in the progress of composition, and has
always, I believe, been under the impression that it was principally the
work of Mr. Sheridan. [Footnote: To this authority may be added also that
of the Bishop of Winchester, who says,--"Mr. Sheridan was supposed to
have been materially concerned in drawing up this admirable composition."]

I had written thus far on the subject of this Letter--and shall leave
what I have written as a memorial of the fallacy of such
conjectures--when, having still some doubts of my correctness in
attributing the honor of the composition to Sheridan, I resolved to ask
the opinion of my friend, Sir James Mackintosh, a person above all others
qualified, by relationship of talent, to recognize and hold parley with
the mighty spirit of Burke, in whatever shape the "Royal Dane" may
appear. The strong impression on his mind--amounting almost to
certainty--was that no other hand but that of Burke could have written
the greater part of the letter; [Footnote: It is amusing to observe how
tastes differ;--the following is the opinion entertained of this letter
by a gentleman, who, I understand, and can easily believe, is an old
established Reviewer. After mentioning that it was attributed to the pen
of Burke, he adds,--"The story, however, does not seem entitled to much
credit, for the internal character of the paper is too vapid and heavy
for the genius of Burke, whose ardent mind would assuredly have diffused
vigor into the composition, and the correctness of whose judgment would
as certainly have preserved it from the charge of inelegance and
grammatical deficiency."--DR. WATKINS, _Life of Sheridan_. Such, in
nine cases out of ten, are the periodical guides of public taste.] and by
a more diligent inquiry, in which his kindness assisted me, it has been
ascertained that his opinion was, as it could not fail to be, correct.
The following extract from a letter written by Lord Minto at the time,
referring obviously to the surmise that he was, himself, the author of
the paper, confirms beyond a doubt the fact, that it was written almost
solely by Burke:--

"_January 31st, 1789._

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

While it is with regret I give up the claim of Mr. Sheridan to this fine
specimen of English composition, it but adds to my intense admiration of
Burke--not on account of the beauty of the writing, for his fame required
no such accession--but from that triumph of mind over temper which it
exhibits--that forgetfulness of _Self_, the true, transmigrating
power of genius, which enabled him thus to pass his spirit into the
station of Royalty, and to assume all the calm dignity, both of style and
feeling, that became it.

It was to be expected that the conduct of Lord Thurlow at this period
should draw down upon him all the bitterness of those who were in the
secret of his ambidextrous policy, and who knew both his disposition to
desert, and the nature of the motives that prevented him. To Sheridan, in
particular, such a result of a negotiation, in which he had been the
principal mover and mediator, could not be otherwise than deeply
mortifying. Of all the various talents with which he was gifted, his
dexterity in political intrigue and management was that of which he
appears to have been most vain; and this vanity it was that, at a later
period of his life, sometimes led him to branch off from the main body of
his party, upon secret and solitary enterprises of ingenuity, which--as
may be expected from all such independent movements of a
partisan--generally ended in thwarting his friends and embarrassing
himself.

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

With equal personality, but more playfulness, Mr. Burke, in exposing that
wretched fiction, by which the Great Seal was converted into the Third
Branch of the Legislature, and the assent of the King forged to a Bill,
in which his incapacity to give either assent or dissent was declared,
thus expressed himself:--"But what is to be done when the Crown is in a
_deliquium_? It was intended, he had heard, to set up a man with
black brows and a large wig, a kind of scare-crow to the two Houses, who
was to give a fictitious assent in the royal name--and this to be binding
on the people at large!" The following remarkable passage, too, in a
subsequent Speech, is almost too well known to be cited:--"The other
House," he said, "were not yet perhaps recovered from that extraordinary
burst of the pathetic which had been exhibited the other evening; they
had not yet dried their eyes, or been restored to their former placidity,
and were unqualified to attend, to new business. The tears shed in that
House on the occasion to which he alluded, were not the tears of patriots
for dying laws, but of Lords for their expiring places. The iron tears,
which flowed down Pluto's cheek, rather resembled the dismal bubbling of
the Styx, than the gentle murmuring streams of Aganippe."

While Lord Thurlow was thus treated by the party whom he had so nearly
joined, he was but coldly welcomed back by the Minister whom he had so
nearly deserted. His reconciliation, too, with the latter was by no means
either sincere or durable,--the renewal of friendship between
politicians, on such occasions, being generally like that which the
Diable Boiteux describes, as having taken place between himself and a
brother sprite,--"We were reconciled, embraced, and have hated each other
heartily ever since."

In the Regency, indeed, and the transactions connected with it, may be
found the source of most of those misunderstandings and enmities, which
broke out soon after among the eminent men of that day, and were attended
with consequences so important to themselves and the country. By the
difference just mentioned, between Mr. Pitt and Lord Thurlow, the
ministerial arrangements of 1793 were facilitated, and the learned Lord,
after all his sturdy pliancy, consigned to a life of ineffectual
discontent ever after.

The disagreement between Mr. Burke and Mr. Fox, if not actually
originating now--and its foundation had been, perhaps, laid from the
beginning, in the total dissimilarity of their dispositions and
sentiments--was, at least, considerably ripened and accelerated by the
events of this period, and by the discontent that each of them, like
partners in unsuccessful play, was known to feel at the mistakes which
the other had committed in the game. Mr. Fox had, unquestionably, every
reason to lament as well as blame the violence and virulence by which his
associate had disgraced the contest. The effect, indeed, produced upon
the public by the irreverent sallies of Burke, and by the too evident
triumph, both of hate and hope, with which he regarded the calamitous
situation of the King, contributed not a little to render still lower the
already low temperature of popularity at which his party stood throughout
the country. It seemed as if a long course of ineffectual struggle in
politics, of frustrated ambition and unrewarded talents, had at length
exasperated his mind to a degree beyond endurance; and the extravagances
into which he was hurried in his speeches on this question, appear to
have been but the first workings of that impatience of a losing cause--
that resentment of failure, and disgust at his partners in it--which
soon afterwards found such a signal opportunity of exploding.

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

"Perpetual failure, even though nothing in that failure can be fixed on
the improper choice of the object or the injudicious choice of means,
will detract every day more and more from a man's credit, until he ends
without success and without reputation. In fact, a constant pursuit even
of the best objects, without adequate instruments, detracts something
from the opinion of a man's judgment. This, I think, may be in part the
cause of the inactivity of others of our friends who are in the vigor of
life and in possession of a great degree of lead and authority. I do not
blame them, though I lament that state of the public mind, in which the
people can consider the exclusion of such talents and such virtues from
their service, as a point gained to them. The only point in which I can
find any thing to blame in these friends, is their not taking the
effectual means, which they certainly had in their power, of making an
honorable retreat from their prospect of power into the possession of
reputation, by an effectual defence of themselves. There was an
opportunity which was not made use of for that purpose, and which could
scarcely have failed of turning the tables on their adversaries."

Another instance of the embittering influence of these transactions may
be traced in their effects upon Mr. Burke and Mr. Sheridan--between whom
there had arisen a degree of emulation, amounting to jealousy, which,
though hitherto chiefly confined to one of the parties, received on this
occasion such an addition of fuel, as spread it equally through the minds
of both, and conduced, in no small degree, to the explosion that
followed. Both Irishmen, and both adventurers in a region so much
elevated above their original station, it was but natural that some such
feeling should kindle between them; and that, as Burke was already
mid-way in his career, when Sheridan was but entering the field, the
stirrings, whether of emulation or envy, should first be felt by the
latter. It is, indeed, said that in the ceremonial of Hastings's Trial,
the privileges enjoyed by Burke, as a Privy-councillor, were regarded
with evident uneasiness by his brother Manager, who could not as yet
boast the distinction of Right Honorable before his name. As soon,
however, as the rapid run of Sheridan's success had enabled him to
overtake his veteran rival, this feeling of jealousy took possession in
full force of the latter,--and the close relations of intimacy and
confidence, to which Sheridan was now admitted both by Mr. Fox and the
Prince, are supposed to have been not the least of those causes of
irritation and disgust, by which Burke was at length driven to break with
the party altogether, and to show his gigantic strength at parting, by
carrying away some of the strongest pillars of Whiggism in his grasp.

Lastly, to this painful list of the feuds, whose origin is to be found in
the times and transactions of which we are speaking, may be added that
slight, but too visible cloud of misunderstanding, which arose between
Mr. Fox and Mr. Sheridan, and which, though it never darkened into any
thing serious, continued to pervade their intercourse with each other to
the last--exhibiting itself, on the part of Mr. Fox, in a degree of
distrustful reserve not natural to him, and, on the side of Sheridan, in
some of those counter-workings of influence, which, as I have already
said, he was sometimes induced by his love of the diplomacy of politics
to practise.

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

The measures which the Irish Parliament adopted on this occasion, would
have been productive of anomalies, both theoretical and practical, had
the continued illness of the King allowed the projected Regency to take
place. As it was, the most material consequence that ensued was the
dismissal from their official situations of Mr. Ponsonby and other
powerful individuals, by which the Whig party received such an accession
of strength, as enabled them to work out for their country the few
blessings of liberty that still remain to her. Among the victims to their
votes on this question was Mr. Charles Sheridan, who, on the recovery of
the King, was dismissed from his office of Secretary of War, but received
compensation by a pension of 1200_l_. a year, with the reversion of
300_l_. a year to his wife.

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

It has already been mentioned that to Mr. Sheridan, at this period, was
entrusted the task of drawing up several of the State Papers of the
Heir-Apparent. From the rough copies of these papers that have fallen
into my hands, I shall content myself with selecting two Letters--the
first of which was addressed by the Prince to the Queen, immediately
after the communication to her Majesty of the Resolution of the two
Houses placing the Royal Household under her control.

"Before Your Majesty gives an answer to the application for your Royal
permission to place under Your Majesty's separate authority the direction
and appointment of the King's household, and thereby to separate from the
difficult and arduous situation which I am unfortunately called upon to
fill, the accustomed and necessary support which has ever belonged to it,
permit me, with every sentiment of duty and affection towards Your
Majesty, to entreat your attentive perusal of the papers which I have the
honor to enclose. They contain a sketch of the plan now proposed to be
carried into execution as communicated to me by Mr. Pitt, and the
sentiments which I found myself bound in duty to declare in reply to that
communication. I take the liberty of lodging these papers in Your
Majesty's hands, confiding that, whenever it shall please Providence to
remove the malady with which the King my father is now unhappily
afflicted, Your Majesty will, in justice to me and to those of the Royal
family whose affectionate concurrence and support I have received, take
the earliest opportunity of submitting them to his Royal perusal, in
order that no interval of time may elapse before he is in possession of
the true motives and principles upon which I have acted. I here solemnly
repeat to Your Majesty, that among those principles there is not one
which influences my mind so much as the firm persuasion I have, that my
conduct in endeavoring to maintain unimpaired and undivided the just
rights, prerogatives, and dignity of the Crown, in the person of the
King's representative, is the only line of conduct which would entitle me
to His Majesty's approbation, or enable me to stand with confidence in
his Royal presence on the happy day of his recovery;--and, on the
contrary, that those who, under color of respect and attachment to his
Royal person, have contrived this project for enfeebling and degrading
the executive authority of the realm, will be considered by him as having
risked the happiness of his people and the security of the throne itself,
by establishing a fatal precedent which may hereafter be urged against
his own authority, on as plausible pretences, or revived against the just
rights of his family. In speaking my opinions of the motive of the
projectors of this scheme, I trust I need not assure Your Majesty that
the respect, duty, and affection I owe to Your Majesty have never
suffered me for a single moment to consider you as countenancing, in the
slightest degree, their plan or their purposes. I have the firmest
reliance on Your Majesty's early declaration to me, on the subject of
public affairs, at the commencement of our common calamity; and, whatever
may be the efforts of evil or interested advisers, I have the same
confidence that you will never permit or endure that the influence of
your respected name shall be profaned to the purpose of distressing the
government and insulting the person of your son. How far those, who are
evidently pursuing both these objects, may be encouraged by Your
Majesty's acceptance of one part of the powers purposed to be lodged in
your hands, I will not presume to say. [Footnote: In speaking of the
extraordinary _imperium in imperio_, with which the command of so
much power and patronage would have invested the Queen, the Annual
Register (Robinson's) remarks justly, "It was not the least extraordinary
circumstance in these transactions, that the Queen could be prevailed
upon to lend her name to a project which would eventually have placed her
in avowed rivalship with her son, and, at a moment when her attention
might seem to be absorbed by domestic calamity, have established her at
the head of a political party."] The proposition has assumed the shape of
a Resolution of Parliament, and therefore I am silent.

"Your Majesty will do me the honor to weigh the opinions I formed and
declared before Parliament had entertained the plan, and, with those
before you, your own good judgment will decide. I have only to add that
whatever that decision may be, nothing will ever alter the interest of
true affection and inviolable duty," &c. &c.

The second Letter that I shall give, from the rough copy of Mr. Sheridan,
was addressed by the Prince to the King after his recovery, announcing
the intention of His Royal Highness to submit to His Majesty a Memorial,
in vindication of his own conduct and that of his Royal brother the Duke
of York throughout the whole of the proceedings consequent upon His
Majesty's indisposition.

"SIR,

"Thinking it probable that I should have been honored with your commands
to attend Your Majesty on Wednesday last, I have unfortunately lost the
opportunity of paying my duty to Your Majesty before your departure from
Weymouth. The account? I have received of Your Majesty's health have
given me the greatest satisfaction, and should it be Your Majesty's
intention to return to Weymouth, I trust, Sir, there will be no
impropriety in my _then_ entreating Your Majesty's gracious
attention to a point of the greatest moment to the peace of my own mind,
and one in which I am convinced Your Majesty's feelings are equally
interested. Your Majesty's letter to my brother the Duke of Clarence, in
May last, was the first direct intimation I had ever received that my
conduct, and that of my brother the Duke of York, during Your Majesty's
late lamented illness, had brought on us the heavy misfortune of Your
Majesty's displeasure. I should be wholly unworthy the return of Your
Majesty's confidence and good opinion, which will ever be the first
objects of my life, if I could have read the passage I refer to in that
letter without the deepest sorrow and regret for the effect produced on
Your Majesty's mind; though at the same time I felt the firmest
persuasion that Your Majesty's generosity and goodness would never permit
that effect to _remain_, without affording us an opportunity of
knowing what had been urged against us, of replying to our accusers, and
of justifying ourselves, if the means of justification were in our power.

"Great however as my impatience and anxiety were on this subject, I felt
it a superior consideration not to intrude any unpleasing or agitating
discussions upon Your Majesty's attention, during an excursion devoted to
the ease and amusement necessary for the re-establishment of Your
Majesty's health. I determined to sacrifice my own feelings, and to wait
with resignation till the fortunate opportunity should arrive, when Your
Majesty's own paternal goodness would, I was convinced, lead you even to
_invite_ your sons to that fair hearing, which your justice would
not deny to the meanest individual of your subjects. In this painful
interval I have employed myself in drawing up a full statement and
account of my conduct during the period alluded to, and of the motives
and circumstances which influenced me. When these shall be humbly
submitted to Your Majesty's consideration, I may be possibly found to
have erred in judgment, and to have acted on mistaken principles, but I
have the most assured conviction that I shall not be found to have been
deficient in that duteous affection to Your Majesty which nothing shall
ever diminish. Anxious for every thing that may contribute to the comfort
and satisfaction of Your Majesty's mind, I cannot omit this opportunity
of lamenting those appearances of a less gracious disposition in the
Queen, towards my brothers and myself, than we were accustomed to
experience; and to assure Your Majesty that if by your affectionate
interposition these most unpleasant sensations should be happily removed,
it would be an event not less grateful to our minds than satisfactory to
Your Majesty's own benign disposition. I will not longer. &c. &c.

"G. P."

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

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

_Memorial for Dr. W. T.,_ [Footnote: This industrious Scotchman (of
whose name I have only given the initials) was not without some share of
humor. On hearing that a certain modern philosopher had carried his
belief in the perfectibility of all living things so far, as to say that
he did not despair of seeing the day when tigers themselves might be
educated, Dr. T. exclaimed, "I should like dearly to see him in a cage
with _two_ of his pupils!"]

_Fitzroy-street, Fitzroy-Chapel._

"In May, 1787, Dr. Parr, in the name of his political friends, engaged
Dr. T. to embrace those opportunities, which his connections with
booksellers and periodical publications might afford him, of supporting
the principles of their party. Mr. Sheridan in August, 1787, gave two
notes, 50_l_. each, to Dr. T. for the first year's service, which
notes were paid at different periods--the first by Mr. Sheridan at
Brookes's, in January, 1788, the second by Mr. Windham in May, 1788. Mr.
Sheridan, in different conversations, encouraged Dr. T. to go on with the
expectation of a like sum yearly, or 50_l_. half yearly. Dr. T. with
this encouragement engaged in different publications for the purpose of
this agreement. He is charged for the most part with the Political and
Historical articles in the Analytic Review, and he also occasionally
writes the Political Appendix to the English Review, of which
particularly he wrote that for April last, and that for June last. He
also every week writes an abridgment of Politics for the Whitehall
Evening Post, and a Political Review every month for a Sunday paper
entitled the Review and Sunday Advertiser. In a Romance, entitled
'Mammoth, or Human Nature Displayed, &c.,' Dr. T. has shown how mindful
he is on all occasions of his engagements to those who confide in him. He
has also occasionally moved other engines, which it would be tedious and
might appear too trifling to mention. Dr. T. is not ignorant that
uncommon charges have happened in the course of this last year, that is,
the year preceding May, 1789. Instead of 100_l_., therefore, he will
be satisfied with 50_l_ for that year, provided that this abatement
shall not form a precedent against his claim of 100_l_. annually, if
his further services shall be deemed acceptable. There is one point on
which Dr. T. particularly reserved himself, namely, to make no attack on
Mr. Hastings, and this will be attested by Dr. Parr, Mr. Sheridan, and,
if the Doctor rightly recollects, by Mr. Windham.

"_Fitzroy-street, 21st July, 1789."_

Taking into account all the various circumstances that concurred to
glorify this period of Sheridan's life, we may allow ourselves, I think,
to pause upon it as the apex of the pyramid, and, whether we consider his
fame, his talents, or his happiness, may safely say, "Here is their
highest point."

The new splendor which his recent triumphs in eloquence had added to a
reputation already so illustrious,--the power which he seemed to have
acquired over the future destinies of the country, by his acknowledged
influence in the councils of the Heir Apparent, and the tribute paid to
him, by the avowal both of friends and foes, that he had used this
influence in the late trying crisis of the Regency, with a judgment and
delicacy that proved him worthy of it,--all these advantages, both
brilliant and solid, which subsequent circumstances but too much tended
to weaken, at this moment surrounded him in their newest lustre and
promise.

He was just now, too, in the first enjoyment of a feeling, of which habit
must have afterwards dulled the zest, namely, the proud consciousness of
having surmounted the disadvantages of birth and station, and placed
himself on a level with the highest and noblest of the land. This footing
in the society of the great he could only have attained by parliamentary
eminence;--as a mere writer, with all his genius, he never would have
been thus admitted _ad eundem_ among them. Talents, in literature or
science, unassisted by the advantages of birth, may lead to association
with the great, but rarely to equality;--it is a passport through the
well-guarded frontier, but no title to naturalization within. By him, who
has not been born among them, this can only be achieved by politics. In
that arena, which they look upon as their own, the Legislature of the
land, let a man of genius, like Sheridan, but assert his supremacy,--at
once all these barriers of reserve and pride give way, and he takes, by
storm, a station at their side, which a Shakspeare or a Newton would but
have enjoyed by courtesy.

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

Of his happiness, at the period of which we are speaking, in the midst of
so much success and hope, there can be but little doubt. Though pecuniary
embarrassment, as appears from his papers, had already begun to weave its
fatal net around him, there was as yet little more than sufficed to give
exercise to his ingenuity, and the resources of the Drury-Lane treasury
were still in full nightly flow. The charms, by which his home was
embellished, were such as few other homes could boast; and, if any thing
made it less happy than it ought to be, the cause was to be found in the
very brilliancy of his life and attractions, and in those triumphs out of
the sphere of domestic love, to which his vanity, perhaps, oftener than
his feelings, impelled him.

Among his own immediate associates, the gaiety of his spirits amounted
almost to boyishness. He delighted in all sorts of dramatic tricks and
disguises; and the lively parties, with which his country-house was
always filled, were kept in momentary expectation of some new device for
their mystification or amusement. [Footnote: To give some idea of the
youthful tone of this society, I shall mention one out of many anecdotes
related to me by persons who themselves been ornaments of it. The ladies
having one evening received the gentlemen in masquerade dresses, which
with their obstinate silence, made it impossible to distinguish one from
the other, the gentlemen, in their turn invited the ladies next evening,
to a similar trial of conjecture on themselves; and notice being given
that they were ready dressed, Mrs. Sheridan and her companions were
admitted into the dining room, where they found a party of Turks, sitting
silent and masked around the table. After a long course of the usual
guesses, examinations, &c, &c., and each lady having taken the arm of the
person she was most sure of, they heard a burst of laughter through the
half open door, and looking there, saw the gentlemen themselves in their
proper person--the masks upon whom they had been lavishing their
sagacity being no other than the maid servants of the house, who had been
thus dressed up to deceive them.] It was not unusual to dispatch a man
and horse seven or eight miles for a piece of crape or a mask, or some
other such trifle for these frolics. His friends Tickell and Richardson,
both men of wit and humor, and the former possessing the same degree of
light animal spirits as himself, were the constant companions of all his
social hours, and kept up with him that ready rebound of pleasantry,
without which the play of wit languishes.

There is a letter, written one night by Richardson at Tunbridge
[Footnote: In the year 1790, when Mrs. Sheridan was trying the waters of
Tunbridge for her health. In a letter to Sheridan's sister from this
place, dated September 1790, she says: "I drink the waters once a day,
and ride and drive all the forenoon, which makes me ravenous when I
return. I feel I am in very good health, and I am in high beauty, two
circumstances which ought and do put me in high good humor."] (after
waiting five long hours for Sheridan,) so full of that mixture of
melancholy and humor, which chequered the mind of this interesting man,
that, as illustrative of the character of one of Sheridan's most intimate
friends, it may be inserted here:--

"DEAR SHERIDAN,

"_Half-past nine, Mount Ephraim._

"After you had been gone an hour or two I got moped damnably. Perhaps
there is a sympathy between the corporeal and the mind's eye. In the
Temple I can't see far before me, and seldom extend my speculations on
things to come into any fatiguing sketch of reflection.--From your
window, however, there was a tedious scope of black atmosphere, that I
think won my mind into a sort of fellow-travellership, pacing me again
through the cheerless waste of the past, and presenting hardly one little
rarified cloud to give a dim ornament to the future;--not a star to be
seen;--no permanent light to gild my horizon;--only the fading helps to
transient gaiety in the lamps of Tunbridge;--no Law coffee-house at hand,
or any other house of relief;--no antagonist to bicker one into a control
of one's cares by a successful opposition, [Footnote: Richardson was
remarkable for his love of disputation; and Tickell, when hard pressed by
him in argument, used often, as a last resource, to assume the voice and
manner of Mr. Fox, which he had the power of mimicking so exactly, that
Richardson confessed he sometimes stood awed and silenced by the
resemblance.

This disputatious humor of Richardson was once turned to account by
Sheridan in a very characteristic manner. Having had a hackney-coach in
employ for five or six hours, and not being provided with the means of
paying it, he happened to espy Richardson in the street, and proposed to
take 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 he
knew his companion was sure to become argumentative and animated. Having,
by well-managed contradiction, brought him to the proper pitch of
excitement, he affected to grow impatient and angry, himself, and saying
that "he could not think of staying in the same coach with a person that
would use such language," pulled the check-string, and desired the
coachman to let him out. Richardson, wholly occupied with the argument,
and regarding the retreat of his opponent as an acknowledgment of defeat,
still pressed his point, and even hollowed "more last words" through the
coach-window after Sheridan, who, walking quietly home, left the poor
disputant responsible for the heavy fare of the coach.] nor a softer
enemy to soothe one into an oblivion of them.

"It is damned foolish for ladies to leave their scissors about;--the
frail thread of a worthless life is soon snipped. I wish to God my fate
had been true to its first destination, and made a parson of me;--I
should have made an excellent country Joll. I think I can, with
confidence, pronounce the character that would have been given of me:--He
was an indolent good-humored man, civil at all times, and hospitable at
others, namely, when he was able to be so, which, truth to say, happened
but seldom. His sermons were better than his preaching, and his doctrine
better than his life; though often grave, and sometimes melancholy, he
nevertheless loved a joke,--the more so when overtaken in his cups,
which, a regard to the faith of history compels us to subjoin, fell out
not unfrequently. He had more thought than was generally imputed to him,
though it must be owned no man alive ever exercised thought to so little
purpose. Rebecca, his wife, the daughter of an opulent farmer in the
neighborhood of his small living, brought him eighteen children; and he
now rests with those who, being rather _not_ absolutely vicious than
actively good, confide in the bounty of Providence to strike a mild
average between the contending negations of their life, and to allow them
in their future state, what he ordained them in this earthly pilgrimage,
a snug neutrality and a useless repose.--I had written thus far,
absolutely determined, under an irresistible influence of the megrims, to
set off for London on foot, when, accidentally searching for a
cardialgic, to my great delight, I discovered three fugitive sixpences,
headed by a vagrant shilling, immerged in the heap in my waistcoat
pocket. This discovery gave an immediate elasticity to my mind; and I
have therefore devised a scheme, worthier the improved state of my
spirits, namely, to swindle your servants out of a horse, under the
pretence of a ride upon the heath, and to jog on contentedly homewards.
So, under the protection of Providence, and the mercy of footpads, I
trust we shall meet again to-morrow; at all events, there is nothing
huffish in this; for, whether sad or merry, I am always,

"Most affectionately yours,

"J. RICHARDSON.

"P.S. Your return only confirmed me in my resolution of going; for I had
worked myself, in five hours solitude, into such a state of nervous
me

Showing first 200,000 characters. Full text: gutenberg.org/ebooks/7775