In writing the Life of Sheridan, never mind the angry lies of the humbug Whigs. Recollect that he was an Irishman and a clever fellow, and that we have had some very pleasant days with him. Don't forget that he was at school at Harrow, where, in my time, we used to show his name -R. B. Sheridan, 1765, as an honour to the walls. Remember *** **** Depend upon it that there were worse folks going, of that gang, than ever Sheridan was. (1818, September 19. Letter 715, to Thomas Moore, Vol. IV., p. 261.) Soon after the "Rejected Address" scene in 1812, I met Sheridan. In the course of dinner, he said, "L. B., did you know that, amongst the writers of addresses, was Whitbread himself?" I answered by an enquiry of what sort of an address he had made. "Of that," replied Sheridan, "I remember little, except that there was a phoenix in it."-"A phoenix!! Well, how did he describe it?"—"Like a poulterer," answered Sheridan: "It was green, and yellow, and red, and blue: he did not let us off for a single feather." (1821, February 7. 1st Letter to Murray on the Bowles-Pope controversy, Vol. V., p. 557.) I am filling another [MS. book] for you with little anecdotes, to my own knowledge, or well authenticated, of Sheridan, Curran, etc., and such other public men as I recollect to have been acquainted with, for SHERIDAN'S LIKING FOR BYRON 371 I knew most of them more or less. I will do what I can to prevent your losing by my obsequies. (1821, October 20. Letter 948, to John Murray, Vol. V., p. 393.) In society I have met him [i.e. Sheridan] frequently: he was superb! He had a sort of liking for me, and never attacked me at least to my face, and he did every body else-high names, and wits, and orators, some of them poets also. I have seen [him] cut up Whitbread, quiz Mo de Stael, annihilate Colman, and do little less by some others (whose names as friends I set not down), of good fame and abilities. Poor fellow he got drunk very thoroughly and very soon. It occasionally fell to my lot to convoy him home-no sinecure, for he was so tipsy that I was obliged to put on his cock'd hat for him to be sure it tumbled off again, and I was not myself so sober as to be able to pick it up again. There was something odd about Sheridan. One day at a dinner he was slightly praising that pert pretender and impostor, Lyttelton (The Parliament puppy, still alive, I believe). I took the liberty of differing from him he turned round upon me, and said, "Is that your real opinion?" I confirmed it. Then said he, "Fortified by this concurrence, I beg leave to say that it in fact is also my opinion, and that he is a person whom I do absolutely and utterly despise, abhor, and detest." He then launched out into a description of his despicable qualities, at some length, and with his usual wit, and evidently in earnest (for he hated Lyttelton). His former compliment had been drawn out by some preceding one, just as its reverse was by my hinting that it was unmerited. Sheridan was one day offered a bet by M. G. Lewis. "I will bet you, M' Sheridan, a very large sum: I will bet you what you owe me as Manager, for my 'Castle Spectre."" "I never make large bets," said Sheridan "but I will lay you a very small one; I will bet you what it is WORTH!" Lewis, though a kind man, hated Sheridan; and we had some words upon that score when in Switzerland in 1816. Lewis afterwards sent me the following epigram upon Sheridan from Saint Maurice : "For worst abuse of finest parts Was Misophil begotten; There might indeed be blacker hearts, But none could be more rotten." I have seen Sheridan weep two or three times: it may be that he was maudlin; but this only renders it more impressive, for who would see "From Marlborough's eyes the tears of dotage flow, Once I saw him cry at Robins's, the Auctioneer's, after a splendid dinner full of great names and high Spirits. I had the honour of sitting next to Sheridan. The occasion of his tears was some observation or other upon the subject of the sturdiness of the Whigs in resisting Office, and keeping to their principles. Sheridan turned round-"Sir, it is easy for my Lord G., or Earl G., or Marquis B., or L H., with thousands upon thousands a year-some of it either SOFTENING AN ATTORNEY 373 presently derived or inherited in Sinecures or acquisitions from the public money-to boast of their patriotism, and keep aloof from temptation; but they do not know from what temptations those have kept aloof, who had equal pride at least equal talents, and not unequal passions, and nevertheless knew not in the course of their lives what it was to have a shilling of their own." And in saying this he wept. I have more than once heard Sheridan say, that he never "had a shilling of his own:" to be sure, he contrived to extract a good many of other people's. In 1815, I had occasion to visit my Lawyer in Chancery Lane: he was with Sheridan. After mutual greetings, etc., Sheridan retired first. Before recurring to my own business, I could not help enquiring that of S. "Oh" (replied the Attorneo), "the usual thing-to stave off an action from his Wine-Merchant, my Client." "Well" (said I) "and what do you mean to do?" "Nothing at all for the present, said he "would you have us proceed against old Sherry? What would be the use of it?" And here he began laughing, and going over Sheridan's good gifts of Conversation. Now, from personal experience, I can vouch that my Attorneo is by no means the tenderest of men, or particularly accessible to any kind of impression out of the Statute or record. And yet Sheridan, in half an hour, had found the way to soften and seduce him in such a manner, that I almost think he would have thrown his Client (an honest man with all the laws and some justice on his side) out of the window, had he come in at the moment. Such was Sheridan! He could soften an Attorney! There has been nothing like it since the days of Orpheus. I have met George Colman occasionally, and thought him extremely pleasant and convivial. Sheridan's humour, or rather wit, was always saturnine, and sometimes savage: he never laughed (at least that I saw, and I watched him), but Colman did. I have got very drunk with them both; but, if I had to choose, and could not have both at a time, I should say, "let me begin the evening with Sheridan, and finish it with Colman." Sheridan for dinner-Colman for Supper. Sheridan for Claret or port; but Colman for every thing, from the Madeira and Champaigne at dinner the Claret with a layer of port between the Glasses-up to the Punch of the Night, and down to the Grog or Gin and water of day-break. All these I have threaded with both the same. Sheridan was a Grenadier Company of Life-Guards, but Colman a whole regiment of light Infantry, to be sure, but still a regiment. ("Detached Thoughts," 1821-1822. "Thoughts" 5, 6, 14, 15, 57, 58, and 107, Vol. V., pp. 413, 417, 437, 438, 460.) Madame de Staël Yesterday I dined in company with Stael, the "Epicene," whose politics are sadly changed. She is for the Lord of Israel and the Lord of Liverpoola vile antithesis of a Methodist and a Tory-talks of nothing but devotion and the ministry, and, I presume, |