DUELS WITH MR. MATHEWS.--MARRIAGE WITH MISS LINLEY.
Towards the close of the year 1771, the elder Mr. Sheridan went to
Dublin, to perform at the theatre of that city,--leaving his young and
lively family at Bath, with nothing but their hearts and imaginations to
direct them.
The following letters, which passed between him and his son Richard
during his absence, though possessing little other interest than that of
having been written at such a period, will not, perhaps, be unwelcome to
the reader:--
"Dublin, Dec. 7th, 1771.
"MY DEAR RICHARD,
"How could you be so wrong-headed as to commence cold bathing at such a
season of the year, and I suppose without any preparation too? You have
paid sufficiently for your folly, but I hope the ill effects of it have
been long since over. You and your brother are fond of quacking, a most
dangerous disposition with regard to health. Let slight things pass away
themselves; in a case that requires assistance do nothing without
advice. Mr. Crook is a very able man in his way. Should a physician be
at any time wanting, apply to Dr. Nesbitt, and tell him at leaving Bath
I recommended you all to his care. This indeed I intended to have
mentioned to him, but it slipped my memory. I forgot Mr. Crook's bill,
too, but desire I may have the amount by the next letter. Pray what is
the meaning of my hearing so seldom from Bath? Six weeks here, and but
two letters! You were very tardy; what are your sisters about? I shall
not easily forgive any future omissions. I suppose Charles received my
answer to his, and the 20_l_ from Whately. I shall order another to
be sent at Christmas for the rent and other necessaries. I have not time
at present to enter upon the subject of English authors, &c. but shall
write to you upon that head when I get a little leisure. Nothing can be
conceived in a more deplorable state than the stage of Dublin. I found
two miserable companies opposing and starving each other. I chose the
least bad of them; and, wretched as they are, it has had no effect on my
nights, numbers having been turned away every time I played, and the
receipts have been larger than when I had Barry, his wife, and Mrs.
Fitz-Henry to play with me. However, I shall not be able to continue it
long, as there is no possibility of getting up a sufficient number of
plays with such poor materials. I purpose to have done the week after
next, and apply vigorously to the material point which brought me over.
I find all ranks and parties very zealous for forwarding my scheme, and
have reason to believe it will be carried in parliament after the
recess, without opposition. It was in vain to have attempted it before,
for never was party violence [Footnote: The money-bill, brought forward
this year under Lord Townsend's administration, encountered violent
opposition, and was finally rejected.] carried to such a height as in
this sessions; the House seldom breaking up till eleven or twelve at
night. From these contests, the desire of improving in the article of
elocution is become very general. There are no less than five persons of
rank and fortune now waiting my leisure to become my pupils. Remember me
to all friends, particularly to our good landlord and landlady. I am,
with love and blessing to you all,
"Your affectionate father,
"THOMAS SHERIDAN.
"P. S.--Tell your sisters I shall send the poplins as soon as I can get
an opportunity."
"DEAR FATHER,
"We have been for some time in hopes of receiving a letter, that we
might know that you had acquitted us of neglect in writing. At the same
time we imagine that the time is not far when writing will be
unnecessary; and we cannot help wishing to know the posture of the
affairs, which, as you have not talked of returning, seem probable to
detain you longer than you intended. I am perpetually asked when Mr.
Sheridan is to have his patent for the theatre, which all the Irish here
take for granted, and I often receive a great deal of information from
them on the subject. Yet I cannot help being vexed when I see in the
Dublin papers such bustling accounts of the proceedings of your House of
Commons, as I remember it was your argument against attempting any thing
from parliamentary authority in England. However, the folks here regret
you, as one that is to be fixed in another kingdom, and will scarcely
believe that you will ever visit Bath at all; and we are often asked if
we have not received the letter which is to call us over.
"I could scarcely have conceived that the winter was so near departing,
were I not now writing after dinner by daylight. Indeed the first
winter-season is not yet over at Bath. They have balls, concerts, &c. at
the rooms, from the old subscription still, and the spring ones are
immediately to succeed them. They are likewise going to perform
oratorios here. Mr. Linley and his whole family, down to the seven year
olds, are to support one set at the new rooms, and a band of singers
from London another at the old. Our weather here, or the effects of it,
have been so uninviting to all kinds of birds, that there has not been
the smallest excuse to take a gun into the fields this winter;--a point
more to the regret of Charles than myself.
"We are all now in dolefuls for the Princess Dowager; but as there was
no necessity for our being dressed or weeping mourners, we were easily
provided. Our acquaintances stand pretty much the same as when you left
us,--only that I think in general we are less intimate, by which I
believe you will not think us great losers. Indeed, excepting Mr.
Wyndham, I have not met with one person with whom I would wish to be
intimate; though there was a Mr. Lutterel, (brother to the Colonel,)--
who was some months ago introduced to me by an old Harrow acquaintance,
--who made me many professions at parting, and wanted me vastly to name
some way in which he could be useful to me; but the relying on
_acquaintances_, or _seeking_ of friendships, is a fault which
I think I shall always have prudence to avoid.
"Lissy begins to be tormented again with the tooth-ache;--otherwise, we
are all well.
"I am, Sir, your sincerely dutiful and affectionate son,
"Friday, Feb. 29.
"R. B. SHERIDAN.
"I beg you will not judge of my attention to the improvement of my hand-
writing by this letter, as I am out of the way of a better pen."
Charles Sheridan, now one-and-twenty, the oldest and gravest of the
party, finding his passion for Miss Linley increase every day, and
conscious of the imprudence of yielding to it any further, wisely
determined to fly from the struggle altogether. Having taken a solemn
farewell of her in a letter, which his youngest sister delivered, he
withdrew to a farm-house about seven or eight miles from Bath, little
suspecting that he left his brother in full possession of that heart, of
which he thus reluctantly and hopelessly raised the siege. Nor would
this secret perhaps have been discovered for some time, had not another
lover, of a less legitimate kind than either, by the alarming
importunity of his courtship, made an explanation on all sides
necessary.
Captain Mathews, a married man and intimate with Miss Linley's family,
presuming upon the innocent familiarity which her youth and his own
station permitted between them, had for some time not only rendered her
remarkable by his indiscreet attentions in public, but had even
persecuted her in private with those unlawful addresses and proposals,
which a timid female will sometimes rather endure, than encounter that
share of the shame, which may be reflected upon herself by their
disclosure. To the threat of self-destruction, often tried with effect
in these cases, he is said to have added the still more unmanly menace
of ruining, at least, her reputation, if he could not undermine her
virtue. Terrified by his perseverance, and dreading the consequences of
her father's temper, if this violation of his confidence and hospitality
were exposed to him, she at length confided her distresses to Richard
Sheridan; who, having consulted with his sister, and, for the first
time, disclosed to her the state of his heart with respect to Miss
Linley, lost no time in expostulating with Mathews, upon the cruelty,
libertinism, and fruitlessness of his pursuit. Such a remonstrance,
however, was but little calculated to conciliate the forbearance of this
professed man of gallantry, who, it appears by the following allusion to
him under the name of Lothario, in a poem written by Sheridan at the
time, still counted upon the possibility of gaining his object, or, at
least, blighting the fruit which he could not reach:--
Nor spare the flirting _Cassoc'd rogue_,
Nor ancient Cullin's polish'd brogue;
Nor gay _Lothario's_ nobler name,
That _Nimrod_ to all female fame.
In consequence of this persecution, and an increasing dislike to her
profession, which made her shrink more and more from the gaze of the
many, in proportion as she became devoted to the love of one, she
adopted, early in 1772, the romantic resolution of flying secretly to
France and taking refuge in a convent,--intending, at the same time, to
indemnify her father, to whom she was bound till the age of 21, by the
surrender to him of part of the sum which Mr. Long had settled upon her.
Sheridan, who, it is probable, had been the chief adviser of her flight,
was, of course, not slow in offering to be the partner of it. His
sister, whom he seems to have persuaded that his conduct in this affair
arose solely from a wish to serve Miss Linley, as a friend, without any
design or desire to take advantage of her elopement, as a lover, not
only assisted them with money out of her little fund for house-expenses,
but gave them letters of introduction to a family with whom she had been
acquainted at St. Quentin. On the evening appointed for their
departure,--while Mr. Linley, his eldest son, and Miss Maria Linley,
were engaged at a concert, from which the young Cecilia herself had
been, on a plea of illness, excused,--she was conveyed by Sheridan in a
sedan-chair from her father's house in the Crescent, to a post-chaise
which waited for them on the London road, and in which she found a woman
whom her lover had hired, as a sort of protecting Minerva, to accompany
them in their flight.
It will be recollected that Sheridan was at this time little more than
twenty, and his companion just entering her eighteenth year. On their
arrival in London, with an adroitness which was, at least, very
dramatic, he introduced her to an old friend of his family, (Mr. Ewart,
a respectable brandy-merchant in the city,) as a rich heiress who had
consented to elope with him to the Continent;--in consequence of which
the old gentleman, with many commendations of his wisdom for having
given up the imprudent pursuit of Miss Linley, not only accommodated the
fugitives with a passage on board a ship, which he had ready to sail
from the port of London to Dunkirk, but gave them letters of
recommendation to his correspondents at that place, who with the same
zeal and dispatch facilitated their journey to Lisle.
On their leaving Dunkirk, as was natural to expect, the chivalrous and
disinterested protector degenerated into a mere selfish lover. It was
represented by him, with arguments which seemed to appeal to prudence as
well as feeling, that, after the step which they had taken, she could
not possibly appear in England again but as his wife. He was therefore,
he said, resolved not to deposit her in a convent till she had
consented, by the ceremony of a marriage, to confirm to him that right
of protecting her, which he had now but temporarily assumed. It did not,
we may suppose, require much eloquence to convince her heart of the
truth of this reasoning; and, accordingly, at a little village, not far
from Calais, they were married about the latter end of March, 1772, by a
priest well known for his services on such occasions.
They thence immediately proceeded to Lisle, where Miss Linley, as she
must still be called, giving up her intention of going on to St.
Quentin, procured an apartment in a convent, with the determination of
remaining there, till Sheridan should have the means of supporting her
as his acknowledged wife. A letter which he wrote to his brother from
this place, dated April 15, though it throws but little additional light
on the narrative, is too interesting an illustration of it to be omitted
here:
"Dear brother,
"Most probably you will have thought me very inexcusable for not having
writ to you. You will be surprised, too, to be told that, except your
letter just after we arrived, we have never received one line from Bath.
We suppose for certain that there are letters somewhere, in which case
we shall have sent to every place almost but the right, whither, I hope,
I have now sent also. You will soon see me in England. Everything on our
side has at last succeeded. Miss L--- is now fixing in a convent, where
she has been entered some time. This has been a much more difficult
point than you could have imagined, and we have, I find, been extremely
fortunate. She has been ill, but is now recovered; this, too, has
delayed me. We would have wrote, but have been kept in the most
tormenting expectation, from day to day, of receiving your letters; but
as everything is now so happily settled here, I will delay no longer
giving you that information, though probably I shall set out for England
without knowing a syllable of what has happened with you. All is well, I
hope; and I hope, too, that though you may have been ignorant, for some
time, of our proceedings, _you_ never could have been uneasy lest
anything should tempt me to depart, even in a thought, from the honor
and consistency which engaged me at first. I wrote to M--- [Footnote:
Mathews] above a week ago, which, I think, was necessary and right. I
hope he has acted the one proper part which was left him; and, to speak
from my _feelings_, I cannot but say that I shall be very happy to
find no further disagreeable consequence pursuing him; for, as Brutus
says of Caesar, &c.--if I delay one moment longer, I lose the post.
"I have writ now, too, to Mr. Adams, and should apologize to you for
having writ to him first, and lost my time for you. Love to my sisters,
Miss L--- to all.
"Ever, Charles, your affect. Brother,
"R. B. SHERIDAN.
"I need not tell you that we altered quite our route."
The illness of Miss Linley, to which he alludes, and which had been
occasioned by fatigue and agitation of mind, came on some days after her
retirement to the convent; but an English physician, Dr. Dolman, of
York, who happened to be resident at Lisle at the time, was called in to
attend her; and in order that she might be more directly under his care,
he and Mrs. Dolman invited her to their house, where she was found by
Mr. Linley, on his arrival in pursuit of her. After a few words of
private explanation from Sheridan, which had the effect of reconciling
him to his truant daughter, Mr. Linley insisted upon her returning with
him immediately to England, in order to fulfil some engagements which he
had entered into on her account; and a promise being given that, as soon
as these engagements were accomplished, she should be allowed to resume
her plan of retirement at Lisle, the whole party set off amicably
together for England.
On the first discovery of the elopement, the landlord of the house in
which the Sheridans resided had, from a feeling of pity for the
situation of the young ladies,--now left without the protection of
either father or brother,--gone off, at break of day, to the retreat of
Charles Sheridan, and informed him of the event which had just occurred.
Poor Charles, wholly ignorant till then of his brother's attachment to
Miss Linley, felt all that a man may be supposed to feel, who had but
too much reason to think himself betrayed, as well as disappointed. He
hastened to Bath, where he found a still more furious lover, Mr.
Mathews, inquiring at the house every particular of the affair, and
almost avowing, in the impotence of his rage, the unprincipled design
which this summary step had frustrated. In the course of their
conversation, Charles Sheridan let fall some unguarded expressions of
anger against his brother, which this gentleman, who seems to have been
eminently qualified for a certain line of characters indispensable in
all romances, treasured up in his memory, and, as it will appear,
afterwards availed himself of them. For the four or five weeks during
which the young couple were absent, he never ceased to haunt the
Sheridan family, with inquiries, rumors, and other disturbing
visitations; and, at length, urged on by the restlessness of revenge,
inserted the following violent advertisement in the Bath Chronicle:
"Wednesday, April 8th, 1772.
"Mr. Richard S--- having attempted, in a letter left behind him for that
purpose, to account for his scandalous method of running away from this
place, by insinuations derogating from _my_ character, and that of
a young lady, innocent as far as relates to _me_, or _my_
knowledge; since which he has neither taken any notice of letters, or
even informed his own family of the place where he has hid himself; I
can no longer think he deserves the treatment of a gentleman, and
therefore shall trouble myself no further about him than, in this public
method, to post him as a L---, and a treacherous S---.
"And as I am convinced there have been many malevolent incendiaries
concerned in the propagation of this infamous lie, if any of them,
unprotected by _age_, _infirmities_, or profession, will dare
to acknowledge the part they have acted, and affirm _to_ what they
have said _of_ me, they may depend on receiving the proper reward
of their villany, in the most public manner. The world will be candid
enough to judge properly (I make no doubt) of any private abuse on this
subject for the future; as nobody can defend himself from an accusation
he is ignorant of.
"Thomas Mathews."
On a remonstrance from Miss Sheridan upon this outrageous proceeding, he
did not hesitate to assert that her brother Charles was privy to it;--a
charge which the latter with indignation repelled, and was only
prevented by the sudden departure of Mathews to London from calling him
to a more serious account for the falsehood.
At this period the party from the Continent arrived; and as a detail of
the circumstances which immediately followed has been found in Mr.
Sheridan's own hand-writing,--drawn up hastily, it appears, at the
Parade Coffee-house, Bath, the evening before his second duel with Mr.
Mathews,--it would be little better than profanation to communicate them
in any other words.
"It has ever been esteemed impertinent to appeal to the public in
concerns entirely private; but there now and then occurs a
_private_ incident which, by being explained, may be productive of
_public_ advantage. This consideration, and the precedent of a
public appeal in the same affair, are my only apologies for the
following lines:--
"Mr. T. Mathews thought himself essentially injured by Mr. E. Sheridan's
having co-operated in the virtuous efforts of a young lady to escape the
snares of vice and dissimulation. He wrote several most abusive threats
to Mr. S., then in France. He labored, with a cruel industry, to vilify
his character in England. He publicly posted him as a scoundrel and a
liar. Mr. S. answered him from France (hurried and surprised), that he
would never sleep in England till he had thanked him as he deserved.
"Mr. S. arrived in London at 9 o'clock at night. At 10 he is informed,
by Mr. S. Ewart, that Mr. M. is in town. Mr. S. had sat up at
Canterbury, to keep his idle promise to Mr. M.--He resolved to call on
him that night, as, in case he had not found him in town, he had called
on Mr. Ewart to accompany him to Bath, being bound by Mr. Linley not to
let anything pass between him and Mr. M. till he had arrived thither.
Mr. S. came to Mr. Cochlin's, in Crutched Friars, (where Mr. M. was
lodged,) about half after twelve. The key of Mr. C.'s door was lost; Mr.
S. was denied admittance. By two o'clock he got in. Mr. M. had been
previously down to the door, and told Mr. S. he should be admitted, and
had retired to bed again. He dressed, complained of the cold, endeavored
to get heat into him, called Mr. S. his _dear friend_, and forced
him to--_sit down_.
"Mr. S. had been informed that Mr. M. had sworn his death;--that Mr. M.
had, in numberless companies, produced bills on France, whither he meant
to retire on the completion of his revenge. Mr. M. had warned Mr. Ewart
to advise his friend not even to come in his way without a sword, as he
could not answer for the consequence.
"Mr. M. had left two letters for Mr. S., in which he declares he is to
be met with at any hour, and begs Mr. S. will not _'deprive himself of
so much sleep, or stand on any ceremony'_. Mr. S. called on him at
the hour mentioned. Mr. S. was admitted with the difficulty mentioned.
Mr. S. declares that, on Mr. M.'s perceiving that he came to answer then
to his challenge, he does not remember ever to have seen a _man_
behave so perfectly dastardly. Mr. M. detained Mr. S. till seven o'clock
the next morning. He (Mr. M.) said he never meant to quarrel with Mr. S.
He convinced Mr. S. that his enmity ought to be directed solely against
his brother and another gentleman at Bath. Mr. S. went to Bath...."
[Footnote: The remainder of this paper is omitted, as only briefly
referring to circumstances which will be found more minutely detailed in
another document.]
On his arrival in Bath, (whither he travelled with Miss Linley and her
father,) Sheridan lost not a moment in ascertaining the falsehood of the
charge against his brother. While Charles, however, indignantly denied
the flagitious conduct imputed to him by Mathews, he expressed his
opinion of the step which Sheridan and Miss Linley had taken, in terms
of considerable warmth, which were overheard by some of the family. As
soon as the young ladies had retired to bed, the two brothers, without
any announcement of their intention, set off post together for London,
Sheridan having previously written the following letter to Mr. Wade, the
Master of the Ceremonies.
"SIR,
"I ought to apologize to you for troubling you again on a subject which
should concern so few.
"I find Mr. Mathews's behavior to have been such that I cannot be
satisfied with his _concession_, as a _consequence_ of an
_explanation_ from me. I called on Mr. Mathews last Wednesday night
at Mr. Cochlin's, without the smallest expectation of coming to any
_verbal_ explanation with him. A proposal of a _pacific_
meeting the next day was the consequence, which ended in those
advertisements and the letter to you. As for Mr. Mathews's honor or
_spirit_ in this whole affair, I shall only add that a few hours
may possibly give some proof of the latter; while, in my own
justification, I affirm that it was far from being my fault that this
point now remains to be determined.
"On discovering Mr. Mathews's _benevolent_ interposition in my own
family, I have counter-ordered the advertisements that were agreed on,
as I think even an _explanation_ would now misbecome me; an
agreement to them was the effect more of mere _charity_ than
_judgment_. As I find it necessary to make _all_ my sentiments
as public as possible, your declaring this will greatly oblige
"G Your very humble Servant,
"R. B. SHERIDAN."
"Sat. 12 o'Clock, May 2d, 1772.
"To William Wade, Esq."
On the following day (Sunday), when the young gentlemen did not appear,
the alarm of their sisters was not a little increased, by hearing that
high words had been exchanged the evening before, and that it was feared
a duel between the brothers would be the consequence. Though unable to
credit this dreadful surmise, yet full of the various apprehensions
which such mystery was calculated to inspire, they had instant recourse
to Miss Linley, the fair _Helen_ of all this strife, as the person
most likely to be acquainted with their brother Richard's designs, and
to relieve them from the suspense under which they labored. She,
however, was as ignorant of the transaction as themselves, and their
mutual distress being heightened by sympathy, a scene of tears and
fainting-fits ensued, of which no less remarkable a person than Doctor
Priestley, who lodged in Mr. Linley's house at the time, happened to be
a witness.
On the arrival of the brothers in town, Richard Sheridan instantly
called Mathews out. His second on the occasion was Mr. Ewart, and the
particulars of the duel are thus stated by himself, in a letter which he
addressed to Captain Knight, the second of Mathews, soon after the
subsequent duel in Bath.
"Sir,
"On the evening preceding my last meeting with Mr. Mathews, Mr. Barnett
[Footnote: The friend of Mathews in the second duel.] produced a paper
to me, written by Mr. Mathews, containing an account of our former
meetings in London. As I had before frequently heard of Mr. Mathews's
relation of that affair, without interesting myself much in
contradicting it, I should certainly have treated this in the same
manner, had it not been seemingly authenticated by Mr. Knight's name
being subscribed to it. My asserting that the paper contains much
misrepresentation, equivocation, and falsity, might make it appear
strange that I should apply to you in this manner for information on the
subject: but, as it likewise contradicts what I have been told were Mr.
Knight's sentiments and assertions on that affair, I think I owe it to
his credit, as well as my own justification, first, to be satisfied from
himself whether he really subscribed and will support the truth of the
account shown by Mr. Mathews. Give me leave previously to relate what
_I_ have affirmed to have been a real state of our meeting in
London, and which I am now ready to support on my honor, or my oath, as
the best account I can give of Mr. Mathews's relation is, that it is
almost directly opposite to mine.
"Mr. Ewart accompanied me to Hyde Park, about six in the evening, where
we met you and Mr. Mathews, and we walked together to the ring.--Mr.
Mathews refusing to make any other acknowledgment than he had done, I
observed that we were come to the ground: Mr. Mathews objected to the
spot, and appealed to you.--We proceeded to the back of a building on
the other side of the ring, the ground was there perfectly level. I
called on him and drew my sword (he having previously declined pistols).
Mr. Ewart observed a sentinel on the other side of the building; we
advanced to another part of the park. I stopped again at a seemingly
convenient place: Mr. Mathews objected to the observation of some people
at a great distance, and proposed to retire to the Hercules' Pillars
till the park should be clear: we did so. In a little time we returned.
--I again drew my sword; Mr. Mathews again objected to the observation of
a person who seemed to watch us. Mr. Ewart observed that the chance was
equal, and engaged that no one should stop him, should it be necessary
for him to retire to the gate, where we had a chaise and four, which was
equally at his service. Mr. Mathews declared that he would not engage
while any one was within sight, and proposed to defer it till next
morning. I turned to you and said that 'this was trifling work,' that I
could not admit of any delay, and engaged to remove the gentleman (who
proved to be an officer, and who, on my going up to him, and assuring
him that any interposition would be ill-timed, politely retired). Mr.
Mathews, in the mean time, had returned towards the gate: Mr. Ewart and
I called to you, and followed. We returned to the Hercules' Pillars, and
went from thence, by agreement, to the Bedford Coffee House, where, the
master being alarmed, you came and conducted us to Mr. Mathews at the
Castle Tavern, Henrietta Street. Mr. Ewart took lights up in his hand,
and almost immediately on our entering the room we engaged. I struck Mr.
Mathews's point so much out of the line, that I stepped up and caught
hold of his wrist, or the hilt of his sword, while the point of mine was
at his breast. You ran in and caught hold of my arm, exclaiming,
_'don't kill him.'_ I struggled to disengage my arm, and said his
sword was in my power. Mr. Mathews called out twice or thrice, _'I beg
my life.'_--We were parted. You immediately said, _'there, he has
begged his life, and now there is an end of it;'_ and, on Mr. Ewart
saying that, when his sword was in my power, as I attempted no more you
should not have interfered, you replied that you _were wrong_, but
that you had _done it hastily, and to prevent mischief_--or words
to that effect. Mr. Mathews then hinted that I was rather _obliged to
your interposition_ for the advantage; you declared that
'_before_ you did so, both the swords were in Mr. Sheridan's
power.' Mr. Mathews still seemed resolved to give it another turn, and
observed that _he had never quitted his sword_.--Provoked at this,
I then swore (with too much heat, perhaps) that he should either give up
his sword and I would break it, or go to his guard again. He refused--
but, on my persisting, either gave it into my hand, or flung it on the
table, or the ground (_which_ I will not absolutely affirm). I
broke it, and flung the hilt to the other end of the room. He exclaimed
at this. I took a mourning sword from Mr. Ewart, and presenting him with
mine, gave my honor that what had passed should never be mentioned by
me, and he might now right himself again. He replied that he _'would
never draw a sword against the man who had given him his life;'_--
but, on his still exclaiming against the indignity of breaking his sword
(which he had brought upon himself), Mr. Ewart offered him the pistols,
and some altercation passed between them. Mr. Mathews said, that he
_could never show his face if it were known how his sword was broke--
that such a thing had never been done--that it cancelled all
obligations, &c. &c._ You seemed to think it was wrong, and we both
proposed, that if he never misrepresented the affair, it should not be
mentioned by us. This was settled. I then asked Mr. Mathews, whether (as
he had expressed himself sensible of, and shocked at the injustice and
indignity he had done me in his advertisement) it did not occur to him
that he owed me another satisfaction; and that, as it was now in his
power to do it without discredit, I supposed he would not hesitate. This
he absolutely refused, unless conditionally; I insisted on it, and said
I would not leave the room till it was settled. After much altercation,
and with much ill-grace, he gave the apology, which afterwards appeared.
We parted, and I returned immediately to Bath. I, there, to Colonel
Gould, Captain Wade, Mr. Creaser, and others, mentioned the affair to
Mr. Mathews's credit--said that chance having given me the advantage,
Mr. Mathews had consented to that apology, and mentioned nothing of the
sword. Mr. Mathews came down, and in two days I found the whole affair
had been stated in a different light, and insinuations given out to the
same purpose as in the paper, which has occasioned this trouble. I had
_undoubted authority_ that these accounts proceeded from Mr.
Mathews, and likewise that Mr. Knight had never had any share in them. I
then thought I no longer owed Mr. Mathews the compliment to conceal any
circumstance, and I related the affair to several gentlemen exactly as
above.
"Now, sir, as I have put down nothing in this account but upon the most
assured recollection, and as Mr. Mathews's paper either directly or
equivocally contradicts almost every article of it, and as your name is
subscribed to that paper, I flatter myself that I have a right to expect
your answer to the following questions:--First,
"Is there any falsity or misrepresentation in what I have advanced
above?
"With regard to Mr. Mathews's paper--did I, in the Park, seem in the
smallest article inclined to enter into conversation with Mr. Mathews?--
He insinuates that I did.
"Did Mr. Mathews not _beg his life_?--He affirms he did not.
"Did I break his sword _without warning_?--He affirms I did it
without warning, on his laying it on the table.
"Did I not offer him mine?--He omits it.
"Did Mr. Mathews give me the apology, as a point of generosity, _on my
desisting to demand it_?--He affirms he did.
"I shall now give my reasons for doubting your having authenticated this
paper.
"1. Because I think it full of falsehood and misrepresentation, and Mr.
Knight has the character of a man of truth and honor.
"2. When you were at Bath, I was informed that you had never expressed
any such sentiments.
"3. I have been told that, in Wales, Mr. Mathews never _told his
story_ in the presence of Mr. Knight, who had never there insinuated
any thing to my disadvantage.
"4. The paper shown me by Mr. Barnett contains (if my memory does not
deceive me) three separate sheets of writing paper. Mr. Knight's
evidence is annexed to the last, which contains chiefly a copy of our
_first_ proposed advertisements, which Mr. Mathews had, in Mr.
Knight's presence, agreed should be destroyed as totally void; and which
(in a letter to Colonel Gould, by whom I had insisted on it) he declared
upon his honor he knew nothing about, nor should ever make the least use
of.
"These, sir, are my reasons for applying to yourself, in preference to
any appeal to Mr. Ewart, my second on that occasion, which is what I
would wish to avoid. As for Mr. Mathews's assertions, I shall never be
concerned at them. I have ever avoided any verbal altercation with that
gentleman, and he has now secured himself from any other.
"I am your very humble servant,
"R. B. SHERIDAN."
It was not till Tuesday morning that the young ladies at Bath were
relieved from their suspense by the return of the two brothers, who
entered evidently much fatigued, not having been in bed since they left
home, and produced the apology of Mr. Mathews, which was instantly sent
to Crutwell for insertion. It was in the following terms:--
"Being convinced that the expressions I made use of to Mr. Sheridan's
disadvantage were the effects of passion and misrepresentation, I
retract what I have said to that gentleman's disadvantage, and
particularly beg his pardon for my advertisement in the Bath Chronicle.
"THOMAS MATHEWS." [Footnote: This appeared in the Bath Chronicle of May
7th. In another part of the same paper there is the following paragraph:
"We can with authority contradict the account in the London Evening Post
of last night, of a duel between Mr. M--t--ws and Mr. S--r--n, as to
the time and event of their meeting, Mr. S. having been at his place on
Saturday, and both these gentlemen being here at present."]
With the odor of this transaction fresh about him, Mr. Mathews retired
to his estate in Wales, and, as he might have expected, found himself
universally shunned. An apology may be, according to circumstances,
either the noblest effort of manliness or the last resource of fear, and
it was evident, from the reception which this gentleman experienced
every where, that the former, at least, was not the class to which his
late retraction had been referred. In this crisis of his character, a
Mr. Barnett, who had but lately come to reside in his neighborhood,
observing with pain the mortifications to which he was exposed, and
perhaps thinking them, in some degree, unmerited, took upon him to urge
earnestly the necessity of a second meeting with Sheridan, as the only
means of removing the stigma left by the first; and, with a degree of
Irish friendliness, not forgotten in the portrait of Sir Lucius
O'Trigger, offered himself to be the bearer of the challenge. The
desperation of persons, in Mr. Mathews's circumstances, is in general
much more formidable than the most acknowledged valor; and we may easily
believe that it was with no ordinary eagerness he accepted the proposal
of his new ally, and proceeded with him, full of vengeance, to Bath.
The elder Mr. Sheridan, who had but just returned from Ireland, and had
been with some little difficulty induced to forgive his son for the wild
achievements he had been engaged in during his absence, was at this time
in London, making arrangements for the departure of his favorite,
Charles, who, through the interest of Mr. Wheatley, an old friend of the
family, had been appointed Secretary to the Embassy in Sweden. Miss
Linley--wife and no wife,--obliged to conceal from the world what her
heart would have been most proud to avow, was also absent from Bath,
being engaged at the Oxford music-meeting. The letter containing the
preliminaries of the challenge was delivered by Mr. Barnett, with rather
unnecessary cruelty, into the hands of Miss Sheridan, under the pretext,
however, that it was a note of invitation for her brother, and on the
following morning, before it was quite daylight, the parties met at
Kingsdown--Mr. Mathews, attended by his neighbor Mr. Barnett, and
Sheridan by a gentleman of the name of Paumier, nearly as young as
himself, and but little qualified for a trust of such importance and
delicacy.
The account of the duel, which I shall here subjoin, was drawn up some
months after, by the second of Mr. Mathews, and deposited in the hands
of Captain Wade, the master of the ceremonies. Though somewhat partially
colored, and (according to Mr. Sheridan's remarks upon it, which shall
be noticed presently) incorrect in some particulars, it is, upon the
whole, perhaps as accurate a statement as could be expected, and
received, as appears by the following letter from Mr. Brereton, (another
of Mr. Sheridan's intimate friends,) all the sanction that Captain
Paumier's concurrence in the truth of its most material facts could
furnish.
"DEAR SIR,
"In consequence of some reports spread to the disadvantage of Mr.
Mathews, it seems he obtained from Mr. Barnett an impartial relation of
the last affair with Mr. Sheridan, directed to you. This account Mr.
Paumier has seen, and I, at Mr. Mathews's desire, inquired from him if
he thought it true and impartial: he says it differs, in a few
immaterial circumstances only, from his opinion, and has given me
authority to declare this to you.
"I am, dear Sir,
"Your most humble and obedient servant,
"(Signed) WILLIAM BRERETON.
"Bath, Oct. 24, 1772."
_Copy of a Paper left by Mr. Barnett in the hands of Captain William
Wade, Master of the Ceremonies at Bath._
"On quitting our chaises at the top of Kingsdown, I entered into a
conversation with Captain Paumier, relative to some preliminaries I
thought ought to be settled in an affair which was likely to end very
seriously;--particularly the method of using their pistols, which Mr.
Mathews had repeatedly signified his desire to use prior to swords, from
a conviction that Mr. Sheridan would run in on him, and an
ungentlemanlike scuffle probably be the consequence. This, however, was
refused by Mr. Sheridan, declaring he had no pistols: Captain Paumier
replied he had a brace (which I know were loaded).--By my advice, Mr.
Mathews's were not loaded, as I imagined it was always customary to load
on the field, which I mentioned to Captain Paumier at the White-Hart,
before we went out, and desired he would draw his pistols. He replied,
as they were already loaded, and they going on a public road at that
time of the morning, he might as well let them remain so, till we got to
the place appointed; when he would on his honor draw them, which I am
convinced he would have done had there been time; but Mr. Sheridan
immediately drew his sword, and, in a vaunting manner, desired Mr.
Mathews to draw (their ground was very uneven, and near the post-
chaises).--Mr. Mathews drew; Mr. Sheridan advanced on him at first; Mr.
Mathews in turn advanced fast on Mr. Sheridan; upon which he retreated,
till he very suddenly ran in upon Mr. Mathews, laying himself
exceedingly open, and endeavoring to get hold of Mr. Mathews's sword;
Mr. Mathews received him on his point, and, I believe, disengaged his
sword from Mr. Sheridan's body, and gave him another wound; which, I
suppose, must have been either against one of his ribs, or his breast-
bone, as his sword broke, which I imagine happened from the resistance
it met with from one of those parts; but whether it was broke by that,
or on the closing, I cannot aver.
"Mr. Mathews, I think, on finding his sword broke, laid hold of Mr.
Sheridan's sword-arm, and tripped up his heels: they both fell; Mr.
Mathews was uppermost, with the hilt of his sword in his hand, having
about six or seven inches of the blade to it, with which I saw him give
Mr. Sheridan, as I imagined, a skin-wound or two in the neck; for it
could be no more,--the remaining part of the sword being broad and
blunt; he also beat him in the face either with his fist or the hilt of
his sword. Upon this I turned from them, and asked Captain Paumier if we
should not take them up; but I cannot say whether he heard me or not, as
there was a good deal of noise; however, he made no reply. I again
turned to the combatants, who were much in the same situation: I found
Mr. Sheridan's sword was bent, and he slipped his hand up the small part
of it, and gave Mr. Mathews a slight wound in the left part of his
belly: I that instant turned again to Captain Paumier, and proposed
again our taking them up. He in the same moment called out, 'Oh! he is
killed, he is killed!'--I as quick as possible turned again, and found
Mr. Mathews had recovered the point of his sword, that was before on the
ground, with which he had wounded Mr. Sheridan in the belly: I saw him
drawing the point out of the wound. By this time Mr. Sheridan's sword
was broke, which he told us.--Captain Paumier called out to him, 'My
dear Sheridan, beg your life, and I will be yours for ever.' I also
desired him to ask his life: he replied, 'No, by God, I won't.' I then
told Captain Paumier it would not do to wait for those punctilios (or
words to that effect), and desired he would assist me in taking them up.
Mr. Mathews most readily acquiesced first, desiring me to see Mr.
Sheridan was disarmed. I desired him to give me the tuck, which he
readily did, as did Mr. Sheridan the broken part of his sword to Captain
Paumier. Mr. Sheridan and Mr. Mathews both got up; the former was helped
into one of the chaises, and drove off for Bath, and Mr. Mathews made
the best of his way for London.
"The whole of this narrative I declare, on the word and honor of a
gentleman, to be exactly true; and that Mr. Mathews discovered as much
genuine, cool, and intrepid resolution as man could do.
"I think I may be allowed to be an impartial relater of facts, as my
motive for accompanying Mr. Mathews was no personal friendship, (not
having any previous intimacy, or being barely acquainted with him,) but
from a great desire of clearing up so ambiguous an affair, without
prejudice to either party,--which a stranger was judged the most proper
to do,--particularly as Mr. Mathews had been blamed before for taking a
relation with him on a similar occasion.
"(Signed) WILLIAM BARNETT.
"October, 1772." [Footnote: The following account is given as an
"Extract of a Letter from Bath," in the St. James's Chronicle, July 4:
"Young Sheridan and Captain Mathews of this town, who lately had a
rencontre in a tavern in London, upon account of the maid of Bath, Miss
Linley, have had another this morning upon Kingsdown, about four miles
hence. Sheridan is much wounded, but whether mortally or not is yet
uncertain. Both their swords breaking upon the first lunge, they threw
each other down, and with the broken pieces hacked at each other,
rolling upon the ground, the seconds standing by, quiet spectators.
Mathews is but slightly wounded, and is since gone off." The Bath
Chronicle, on the day after the duel, (July 2d,) gives the particulars
thus: "This morning, about three o'clock, a second duel was fought with
swords, between Captain Mathews and Mr. R. Sheridan, on Kingsdown, near
this city, in consequence of their former dispute respecting an amiable
young lady, which Mr. M. considered as improperly adjusted; Mr. S.
having, since their first rencontre, declared his sentiments respecting
Mr. M. in a manner that the former thought required satisfaction. Mr.
Sheridan received three or four wounds in his breast and sides, and now
lies very ill. Mr. M. was only slightly wounded, and left this city soon
after the affair was over."]
The comments which Mr. Sheridan thought it necessary to make upon this
narrative have been found in an unfinished state among his papers; and
though they do not, as far as they go, disprove anything material in its
statements, (except, perhaps, with respect to the nature of the wounds
which he received,) yet, as containing some curious touches of
character, and as a document which he himself thought worth preserving,
it is here inserted.
"To William Barnett, Esq.
"Sir,
"It has always appeared to me so impertinent for individuals to appeal
to the public on transactions merely private, that I own the most
apparent necessity does not prevent my entering into such a dispute
without an awkward consciousness of its impropriety. Indeed, I am not
without some apprehension, that I may have no right to plead your having
led the way in my excuse; as it appears not improbable that some ill-
wisher to you, Sir, and the cause you have been engaged in, betrayed you
first into this _exact narrative,_ and then exposed it to the
public eye, under pretence of vindicating your friend. However, as it is
the opinion of some of my friends, that I ought not to suffer these
papers to pass wholly unnoticed, I shall make a few observations on them
with that moderation which becomes one who is highly conscious of the
impropriety of staking his single assertion against the apparent
testimony of three. This, I say, would be an impropriety, as I am
supposed to write to those who are not acquainted with the parties. I
had some time ago a copy of these papers from Captain Wade, who informed
me that they were lodged in his hands, to be made public only by
judicial authority. I wrote to you, Sir, on the subject, to have from
yourself an avowal that the account was yours; but as I received no
answer, I have reason to compliment you with the supposition that you
are not the author of it. However, as the name _William Barnett_ is
subscribed to it, you must accept my apologies for making use of that as
the ostensible signature of the writer--Mr. Paumier likewise (the
gentleman who went out with me on that occasion in the character of a
second) having assented to everything material in it, I shall suppose
the whole account likewise to be his; and as there are some
circumstances which could come from no one but Mr. Mathews, I shall
(without meaning to take from its authority) suppose it to be Mr.
Mathews's also.
"As it is highly indifferent to me whether the account I am to observe
on be considered as accurately true or not, and I believe it is of very
little consequence to any one else, I shall make those observations just
in the same manner as I conceive any indifferent person of common sense,
who should think it worth his while to peruse the matter with any degree
of attention. In this light, the _truth_ of the articles which are
asserted under Mr. Barnett's name is what I have no business to meddle
with; but if it should appear that this _accurate narrative_
frequently contradicts itself as well as all probability, and that there
are some positive facts against it, which do not depend upon any one's
assertion, I must repeat that I shall either compliment Mr. Barnett's
judgment, in supposing it not his, or his humanity in proving the
_narrative_ to partake of that confusion and uncertainty, which his
well-wishers will plead to have possessed him in the transaction. On
this account, what I shall say on the subject need be no further
addressed to you; and, indeed, it is idle, in my opinion, to address
even the publisher of a newspaper on a point that can concern so few,
and ought to have been forgotten by them. This you must take as my
excuse for having neglected the matter so long.
"The first point in Mr. Barnett's narrative that is of the least
consequence to take notice of, is, where Mr. M. is represented as having
repeatedly signified his desire to use pistols prior to swords, from a
conviction that Mr. Sheridan would run in upon him, and an
ungentlemanlike scuffle probably be the consequence. This is one of
those articles which evidently must be given to Mr. Mathews: for, as Mr.
B.'s part is simply to relate a matter of fact, of which he was an eye-
witness, he is by no means to answer for Mr. Mathews's _private
convictions_. As this insinuation bears an obscure allusion to a past
transaction of Mr. M.'s, I doubt not but he will be surprised at my
indifference in not taking the trouble even to explain it. However, I
cannot forbear to observe here, that had I, at the period which this
passage alludes to, known what was the theory which Mr. M. held of
_gentlemanly scuffle_, I might, possibly, have been so unhappy as
to put it out of his power ever to have brought it into practice.
"Mr. B. now charges me with having cut short a number of pretty
preliminaries, concerning which he was treating with Captain Paumier, by
drawing my sword, and, in a vaunting manner, desiring Mr. M. to draw.
Though I acknowledge (with deference to these gentlemen) the full right
of interference which seconds have on such occasions, yet I may remind
Mr. B. that he was acquainted with my determination with regard to
pistols before we went on the Down, nor could I have expected it to have
been proposed. 'Mr. M. drew; Mr. S. advanced, &c.:'--here let me remind
Mr. B. of a circumstance, which I am convinced his memory will at once
acknowledge."
This paper ends here: but in a rougher draught of the same letter (for
he appears to have studied and corrected it with no common care) the
remarks are continued, in a hand not very legible, thus:
"But Mr. B. here represents me as drawing my sword in a _vaunting_
manner. This I take to be a reflection; and can only say, that a
person's demeanor is generally regulated by their idea of their
antagonist, and, for what I know, I may now be writing in a vaunting
style. Here let me remind Mr. B. of an omission, which, I am convinced,
nothing but want of recollection could occasion, yet which is a material
point in an exact account of such an affair, nor does it reflect in the
least on Mr. M. Mr. M. could not possibly have drawn his sword on my
calling to him, as.... [Footnote: It is impossible to make any
connected sense of the passage that follows.]
"Mr. B.'s account proceeds, that I 'advanced first on Mr. M.,' &c. &c.;
'which, (says Mr. B.) I imagine, happened from the resistance it met
with from one of those parts; but whether it was broke by that, or on
the closing, I cannot aver.' How strange is the confusion here!--First,
it certainly broke;--whether it broke against rib or no, doubtful;--
then, indeed, whether it broke at all, uncertain.... But of all times
Mr. B. could not have chosen a worse than this for Mr. M.'s sword to
break; for the relating of the action unfortunately carries a
contradiction with it;--since if, on closing, Mr. M. received me on his
point, it is not possible for him to have made a lunge of such a nature
as to break his sword against a rib-bone. But as the time chosen is
unfortunate, so is the place on which it is said to have broke,--as Mr.
B. might have been informed, by inquiring of the surgeons, that I had no
wounds on my breast or rib with the point of a sword, they being the
marks of the jagged and blunted part."
He was driven from the ground to the White-Hart; where Ditcher and
Sharpe, the most eminent surgeons of Bath, attended and dressed his
wounds,--and, on the following day, at the request of his sisters, he
was carefully removed to his own home. The newspapers which contained
the account of the affair, and even stated that Sheridan's life was in
danger, reached the Linleys at Oxford, during the performance, but were
anxiously concealed from Miss Linley by her father, who knew that the
intelligence would totally disable her from appearing. Some persons who
were witnesses of the performance that day, still talk of the touching
effect which her beauty and singing produced upon all present--aware, as
they were, that a heavy calamity had befallen her, of which she herself
was perhaps the only one in the assembly ignorant.
In her way back to Bath, she was met at some miles from the town by a
Mr. Panton, a clergyman, long intimate with the family, who, taking her
from her father's chaise into his own, employed the rest of the journey
in cautiously breaking to her the particulars of the alarming event that
had occurred. Notwithstanding this precaution, her feelings were so
taken by surprise, that in the distress of the moment, she let the
secret of her heart escape, and passionately exclaimed, "My husband! my
husband!"--demanding to see him, and insisting upon her right as his
wife to be near him, and watch over him day and night. Her entreaties,
however, could not be complied with; for the elder Mr. Sheridan, on his
return from town, incensed and grieved at the catastrophe to which his
son's imprudent passion had led, refused for some time even to see him,
and strictly forbade all intercourse between his daughters and the
Linley family. But the appealing looks of a brother lying wounded and
unhappy, had more power over their hearts than the commands of a father,
and they, accordingly, contrived to communicate intelligence of the
lovers to each other.
In the following letter, addressed to him by Charles at this time, we
can trace that difference between the dispositions of the brothers,
which, with every one except their father, rendered Richard, in spite of
all his faults, by far the most popular and beloved of the two.
"London, July 3d, 1772.
"DEAR DICK,
"It was with the deepest concern I received the late accounts of you,
though it was somewhat softened by the assurance of your not being in
the least danger. You cannot conceive the uneasiness it occasioned to my
father. Both he and I were resolved to believe the best, and to suppose
you safe, but then we neither of us could approve of the cause in which
you suffer. All your friends here condemned you. You risked every thing,
where you had nothing to gain, to give your antagonist the thing he
wished, a chance for recovering his reputation. Your courage was past
dispute:--he wanted to get rid of the contemptible opinion he was held
in, and you were good-natured enough to let him do it at your expense.
It is not now a time to scold, but all your friends were of opinion you
could, with the greatest propriety, have refused to meet him. For my
part, I shall suspend my judgment till better informed, only I cannot
forgive your preferring swords.
"I am exceedingly unhappy at the situation I leave you in with respect
to money matters, the more so as it is totally out of my power to be of
any use to you. Ewart was greatly vexed at the manner of your drawing
for the last L20.--I own, I think with some reason.
"As to old Ewart, what you were talking about is absolutely impossible;
he is already surprised at Mr. Linley's long delay, and, indeed, I think
the latter much to blame in this respect. I did intend to give you some
account of myself since my arrival here, but you cannot conceive how I
have been hurried,--even much pressed for time at this _present
writing_. I must therefore conclude, with wishing you speedily
restored to health, and that if I could make your purse as whole as that
will shortly be, I hope, it would make me exceedingly happy.
"I am, dear Dick, yours sincerely,
"C. F. SHERIDAN."
Finding that the suspicion of their marriage, which Miss Linley's
unguarded exclamation had suggested, was gaining ground in the mind of
both fathers,--who seemed equally determined to break the tie, if they
could arrive at some positive proof of its existence,--Sheridan wrote
frequently to his young wife, (who passed most of this anxious period
with her relations at Wells,) cautioning her against being led into any
acknowledgment, which might further the views of the elders against
their happiness. Many methods were tried upon both sides, to ensnare
them into a confession of this nature; but they eluded every effort, and
persisted in attributing the avowal which had escaped from Miss Linley,
before Mr. Panton, and others, to the natural agitation and bewilderment
into which her mind was thrown at the instant.
As soon as Sheridan was sufficiently recovered of his wounds, [Footnote:
The Bath Chronicle of the 9th of July has the following paragraph: "It
is with great pleasure we inform our readers that Mr. Sheridan is
declared by his surgeon to be out of danger."] his father, in order to
detach him, as much as possible, from the dangerous recollections which
continually presented themselves in Bath, sent him to pass some months
at Waltham Abbey, in Essex, under the care of Mr. and Mrs. Parker of
Farm Hill, his most particular friends. In this retirement, where he
continued, with but few and short intervals of absence, from August or
September, 1772, till the spring of the following year, it is probable
that, notwithstanding the ferment in which his heart was kept, he
occasionally and desultorily occupied his hours in study. Among other
proofs of industry, which I have found among his manuscripts, and which
may possibly be referred to this period, is an abstract of the History
of England--nearly filling a small quarto volume of more than a hundred
pages, closely written. I have also found in his early hand-writing (for
there was a considerable change in his writing afterwards) a collection
of remarks on Sir William Temple's works, which may likewise have been
among the fruits of his reading at Waltham Abbey.
These remarks are confined chiefly to verbal criticism, and prove, in
many instances, that he had not yet quite formed his taste to that
idiomatic English, which was afterwards one of the great charms of his
own dramatic style. For instance, he objects to the following phrases:--
"Then I _fell to_ my task again."--"These things _come_, with
time, to be habitual."--"By which these people _come_ to be either
scattered or destroyed."--"Which alone could pretend to _contest_
it with them:" (upon which phrase he remarks, "It refers to nothing
here:") and the following graceful idiom in some verses by Temple:--
"Thy busy head can find no gentle rest
For thinking on the events," &c. &c.
Some of his observations, however, are just and tasteful. Upon the Essay
"Of Popular Discontents," after remarking, that "Sir W. T. opens all his
Essays with something as foreign to the purpose as possible," he has the
following criticism:--"Page 260, 'Represent misfortunes for faults, and
_mole-hills_ for _mountains_,'--the metaphorical and literal
expression too often coupled. P. 262, 'Upon these four wheels the
chariot of state may in all appearance drive easy and safe, or at least
not be too much _shaken_ by the usual _roughness_ of ways,
unequal _humors_ of _men_, or any common accidents,'--another
instance of the confusion of the metaphorical and literal expression."
Among the passages he quotes from Temple's verses, as faulty, is the
following:--
"--that we may _see_,
Thou art indeed the empress of the _sea_."
It is curious enough that he himself was afterwards guilty of nearly as
illicit a rhyme in his song "When 'tis night," and always defended it:--
"But when the fight's _begun_,
Each serving at his _gun_."
Whatever grounds there may be for referring these labors of Sheridan to
the period of his retirement at Waltham Abbey, there are certainly but
few other intervals in his life that could be selected as likely to have
afforded him opportunities of reading. Even here, however, the fears and
anxieties that beset him were too many and incessant to leave much
leisure for the pursuits of scholarship. However, a state of excitement
may be favorable to the development of genius--which is often of the
nature of those seas, that become more luminous the more they are
agitated,--for a student, a far different mood is necessary; and in
order to reflect with clearness the images that study presents, the mind
should have its surface level and unruffled.
The situation, indeed, of Sheridan was at this time particularly
perplexing. He had won the heart, and even hand, of the woman he loved,
yet saw his hopes of possessing her farther off than ever. He had twice
risked his life against an unworthy antagonist, yet found the
vindication of his honor still incomplete, from the misrepresentations
of enemies, and the yet more mischievous testimony of friends. He felt
within himself all the proud consciousness of genius, yet, thrown on the
world without even a profession, looked in vain for a channel through
which to direct its energies. Even the precarious hope, which his
father's favor held out, had been purchased by an act of duplicity which
his conscience could not approve; for he had been induced, with the
view, perhaps, of blinding his father's vigilance, not only to promise
that he would instantly give up a pursuit so unpleasing to him, but to
take "an oath equivocal" that he never would marry Miss Linley.
The pressure of these various anxieties upon so young and so ardent a
mind, and their effects in alternately kindling and damping its spirit,
could only have been worthily described by him who felt them, and there
still exist some letters which he wrote during this time, to a gentleman
well known as one of his earliest and latest friends. I had hoped that
such a picture, as these letters must exhibit, of his feelings at that
most interesting period of his private life, would not have been lost to
the present work. But scruples--over-delicate, perhaps, but respectable,
as founded upon a systematic objection to the exposure of _any_
papers, received under the seal of private friendship--forbid the
publication of these precious documents. The reader must, therefore, be
satisfied with the few distant glimpses of their contents, which are
afforded by the answers of his correspondent, found among the papers
entrusted to me. From these it appears, that through all his letters the
same strain of sadness and despondency prevailed,--sometimes breaking
out into aspirings of ambition, and sometimes rising into a tone of
cheerfulness, which but ill concealed the melancholy under it. It is
evident also, and not a little remarkable, that in none of these
overflowings of his confidence, had he as yet suffered the secret of his
French marriage with Miss Linley to escape; and that his friend
accordingly knew but half the wretched peculiarities of his situation.
Like most lovers, too, imagining that every one who approached his
mistress must be equally intoxicated with her beauty as himself, he
seems anxiously to have cautioned his young correspondent (who
occasionally saw her at Oxford and at Bath) against the danger that lay
in such irresistible charms. From another letter, where the writer
refers to some message, which Sheridan had requested him to deliver to
Miss Linley, we learn, that she was at this time so strictly watched, as
to be unable to achieve--what to an ingenious woman is seldom difficult
--an answer to a letter which her lover had contrived to convey to her.
It was at first the intention of the elder Mr. Sheridan to send his
daughters, in the course of this autumn, under the care of their brother
Richard, to France. But, fearing to entrust them to a guardian who
seemed himself so much in need of direction, he altered his plan, and,
about the beginning of October, having formed an engagement for the
ensuing winter with the manager of the Dublin theatre, gave up his house
in Bath, and set out with his daughters for Ireland. At the same time
Mr. Grenville, (afterwards Marquis of Buckingham,) who had passed a
great part of this and the preceding summer at Bath, for the purpose of
receiving instruction from Mr. Sheridan in elocution, went also to
Dublin on a short visit, accompanied by Mr. Cleaver, and by his brother
Mr. Thomas Grenville--between whom and Richard Sheridan an intimacy had
at this period commenced, which continued with uninterrupted cordiality
ever after.
Some time previous to the departure of the elder Mr. Sheridan for
Ireland, having taken before a magistrate the depositions of the
postillions who were witnesses of the duel at Kingsdown, he had
earnestly entreated of his son to join him in a prosecution against
Mathews, whose conduct on the occasion he and others considered as by no
means that of a fair and honorable antagonist. It was in contemplation
of a measure of this nature, that the account of the meeting already
given was drawn up by Mr. Barnett, and deposited in the hands of Captain
Wade. Though Sheridan refused to join in legal proceedings--from an
unwillingness, perhaps, to keep Miss Linley's name any longer afloat
upon public conversation--yet this revival of the subject, and the
conflicting statements to which it gave rise, produced naturally in both
parties a relapse of angry feelings, which was very near ending in a
third duel between them. The authenticity given by Captain Paumier's
name to a narrative which Sheridan considered false and injurious, was
for some time a source of considerable mortification to him; and it must
be owned, that the helpless irresolution of this gentleman during the
duel, and his weak acquiescence in these misrepresentations afterwards,
showed him as unfit to be trusted with the life as with the character of
his friend.
How nearly this new train of misunderstanding had led to another
explosion, appears from one of the letters already referred to, written
in December, and directed to Sheridan at the Bedford Coffee-house,
Covent Garden, in which the writer expresses the most friendly and
anxious alarm at the intelligence which he has just received,--implores
of Sheridan to moderate his rage, and reminds him how often he had
resolved never to have any concern with Mathews again. Some explanation,
however, took place, as we collect from a letter dated a few days later;
and the world was thus spared not only such an instance of inveteracy,
as three duels between the same two men would have exhibited, but,
perhaps, the premature loss of a life to which we are indebted, for an
example as noble in its excitements, and a lesson as useful in its
warnings, as ever genius and its errors have bequeathed to mankind.
The following Lent, Miss Linley appeared in the oratorios at Covent
Garden; and Sheridan, who, from the nearness of his retreat to London,
(to use a phrase of his own, repeated in one of his friend's letters),
"trod upon the heels of perilous probabilities," though prevented by the
vigilance of her father from a private interview, had frequent
opportunities of seeing her in public. Among many other stratagems which
he contrived, for the purpose of exchanging a few words with her, he
more than once disguised himself as a hackney-coachman, and drove her
home from the theatre.
It appears, however, that a serious misunderstanding at this time
occurred between them,--originating probably in some of those paroxysms
of jealousy, into which a lover like Sheridan must have been continually
thrown, by the numerous admirers and pursuers of all kinds, which the
beauty and celebrity of his mistress attracted. Among various alliances
invented for her by the public at this period, it was rumored that she
was about to be married to Sir Thomas Clarges; and in the Bath Chronicle
of April, 1773, a correspondence is given as authentic between her and
"Lord Grosvenor," which, though pretty evidently a fabrication, yet
proves the high opinion entertained of the purity of her character. The
correspondence is thus introduced, in a letter to the editor:--"The
following letters are confidently said to have passed between Lord G---r
and the celebrated English syren, Miss L--y. I send them to you for
publication, not with any view to increase the volume of literary
scandal, which, I am sorry to say, at present needs no assistance, but
with the most laudable intent of setting an example for our modern
belles, by holding out the character of a young woman, who,
notwithstanding the solicitations of her profession, and the flattering
example of higher ranks, has added _incorruptible virtue_ to a
number of the most elegant qualifications."
Whatever may have caused the misunderstanding between her and her lover,
a reconcilement was with no great difficulty effected, by the mediation
of Sheridan's young friend, Mr. Ewart; and, at length, after a series of
stratagems and scenes, which convinced Mr. Linley that it was impossible
much longer to keep them asunder, he consented to their union, and on
the 13th of April, 1773, they were married by license [Footnote: Thus
announced in the Gentleman's Magazine:--"Mr. Sheridan of the Temple to
the celebrated Miss Linley of Bath."]--Mr. Ewart being at the same time
wedded to a young lady with whom he also had eloped clandestinely to
France, but was now enabled, by the forgiveness of his father, to
complete this double triumph of friendship and love.
A curious instance of the indolence and procrastinating habits of
Sheridan used to be related by Woodfall, as having occurred about this
time. A statement of his conduct in the duels having appeared in one of
the Bath papers, so false and calumnious as to require an immediate
answer, he called upon Woodfall to request that his paper might be the
medium of it. But wishing, as he said, that the public should have the
whole matter fairly before them, he thought it right that the offensive
statement should first be inserted, and in a day or two after be
followed by his answer, which would thus come with more relevancy and
effect. In compliance with his wish, Woodfall lost not a moment in
transcribing the calumnious article into his columns--not doubting, of
course, that the refutation of it would be furnished with still greater
eagerness. Day after day, however, elapsed, and, notwithstanding
frequent applications on the one side, and promises on the other, not a
line of the answer was ever sent by Sheridan,--who, having expended all
his activity in assisting the circulation of the poison, had not
industry enough left to supply the antidote. Throughout his whole life,
indeed, he but too consistently acted upon the principles, which the
first Lord Holland used playfully to impress upon his son:--"Never do
to-day what you can possibly put off till to-morrow, nor ever do,
yourself, what you can get any one else to do for you."