the memory of the monarch. The pen of Moore was dipped in the bitterest gall when he wrote his well-known "Lines on the death of Sheridan," which hand down to posterity the opinions of Sheridan's friends on the conduct of the Sovereign. Still it would be unjust to pass over in silence those circumstances which, though derived from private sources, deserve to be known, and tend to rescue the character of the King from the charges of neglect and ingratitude. There is no one who does not admit one fact, that when Sheridan lost his seat for Stafford, when he was excluded both from the theatre and from Parliament-the two anchors by which he held in life were gone, and he was left a lonely and helpless wreck upon the waves," that his Royal Highness offered, at his own expense, to find a seat for him in the House of Commons, that he stepped forward to shield him from the threats of arrest and imprisonment which began to harass him. Writers in the Westminster and Quarterly Reviews have stated that he actually presented him with four thousand pounds for this purpose; from this statement Mr. Moore withheld his belief, but the Edinburgh Review, in its admirable discussion of that author's Life of Sheridan, thus gives the actual case;" With regard to the alleged gift of 40001. by his Majesty, we have the most sincere pleasure in saying that we have every reason to believe that the Illustrious Person is fully entitled to the credit of that act of munificence, though, according to our information, its unhappy object did not derive from it the benefit which was intended. The sum, which we have heard was about 3000l., was by his Royal Highness's order placed in the hands of an attorney for Sheridan's benefit, but was there either attached by his creditors, or otherwise dissipated in such a manner that very little of it actually reached its destination. Nor is it to be forgotten that, however desirous his Royal Highness might have been to assist Sheridan, he was himself an embarrassed man; he had been careless of his own expenditure, and there was not in his treasury the means adequate to afford the relief he might have felt an inclination to give. Every portion of the Prince's revenue was apportioned long before it was received; and though there was a sum annually devoted to objects of charity, and to works of benevolence, there was little left for the casual instances which presented themselves. But it was not royal munificence that was required, it was the assistance of his own immediate family that was denied him; the whole of his debts did not amount to five thousand pounds, and Mrs. Sheridan's settlement had been fifteen thousand, and, however kind her conduct was towards him from the first moment of his malady, she does not seem to have influenced her friends to step forward to his pecuniary relief: all that has been affirmed of his forlorn situation at the hour of his death is borne out by the testimony of those who saw the utter destitution in which he was; a neglected house-the most deplorable want of the common necessaries of life, of decent control over the servants, whose carelessness, even of the physician's prescriptions, was remarked— do not speak of a wife's domestic management, however pure and sincere may have been her affection." Professor Smyth has most graphically described what he observed on the melancholy occasion. He was in Kent when he heard that Sheridan was dangerously ill-he immediately went to his house in Saville Row-he was told by one of the old servants that his master was upon his death-bed. Nothing could be more deplorable than the appearance of every thing: there were strange-looking people in the hall; the parlour seemed dismantled; on the table lay a bit of paper, thrown carelessly and neglected-it was a prescription-it was a strong cordial. He sent up his card to Mrs. Sheridan, to whose room he was summoned. Collecting all the firmness he could, for he was unprepared for such a meeting, he found Mrs. Sheridan displaying the virtues of her sex with a greater dignity and calmness than he had expected from her. She went to Sheridan for him, who sent by her a kind message to say, if he would wait, he would get ready and see him; but, after waiting, a bell was rung, and an announcement came, to say that he was unequal to the interview. You have come from the country," said Mrs. Sheridan, you must have something to eat;" on his declining it, "You think," said she, "that our poor house can furnish nothing, I do believe we can; let me try," and she rang the bell. He thanked her, but excused himself, telling her he would return the next day. The next day, however, Sheridan was no better; he talked with his wife, but his sensibility 66 prevented his speaking much; she told him that she had sent for her friend Dr. Howley, the Bishop of London, who had instantly come up from Oxfordshire to pray by him. On Mr. Smyth's venturing to ask after Mr. Sheridan, her reply was, "I never saw such awe as there was painted in his countenance-I shall never forget it." Thus passed away this great man, to whom was intrusted one of the finest minds, and originally one of the best hearts. Melancholy was the close of his existence. Early in the year 1816 symptoms of severe illness gradually exhibited themselves; his habits of life enfeebled his powers of digestion-his anxieties preyed upon his mind-until at length he sank beneath a load of misery. A diseased state of the stomach developed itself, with symptoms of a harassing nature. There was, however, in him a natural tone and vigour of constitution which would have enabled him, with adequate attention to himself, to have withstood the inroads that were making upon his constitution; but he had throughout life suffered but little, and therefore had not a monitor within him to advise a total change of his habits of life, nor to point out the necessity of obtaining medical aid, until at length Dr. Bain, to whose professional assistance his family usually had recourse, felt it his duty to warn him that his life was in danger. The first public notice of his illness was his absence from a dinner in honour of St. Patrick's Day, on which occasion the Duke of Kent presided, and announced the afflicting cause of Sheridan's absence. The intelligence was received with marks of sympathy and affection, but these were but empty tokens of respect, which, too, would speedily have been forgotten, had not an article appeared in the Morning Post calculated to rouse his friends from their apathy, and to point out the state in which he, who was once a public favourite, was now situated." Oh, delay not to draw aside the curtain within which that proud spirit hides its suffering. Prefer ministering in the chamber of sickness to mustering at the splendid sorrows that adorn the hearse. I say, 'Life and succour' against Westminster Abbey and a funeral.'" This appeal, which was made without the name of the sufferer being mentioned, is ascribed by Moore to one who, though on no very cordial terms with him, forgot every other feeling in a generous pity for his fate, and in honest indignation against those who now deserted him. It was quickly responded to; at his door the names of those who stand high in the ranks of the aristocracy, who had been the friends of his prosperity. were left as visitors. This was mockery. These great and rich personages came too late. They should have shown their feeling for him before. Already had his death-bed been brutally and shamefully outraged; a sheriff's officer had arrested him-such were the laws of England-even in those fearful agonies when the soul is about to quit this mortal frame, had prepared to carry him in his blankets to a vile spunging-house, and would have perpetrated the horrid act which would have disgraced the country, had not his physician threatened the man of law with the responsibility which he would incur if the prisoner died upon his road,—an event of which there was every probability. On Sunday, July 7th, 1816, Sheridan expired. He was then in the sixty-fifth year of his age. The feelings of the public received a shock from an unfounded report, that even his corpse was dishonoured, and that it had been arrested Such an insult upon the morals of a people-such an abuse of the laws of the country-fortunately did not occur, and the rumour has been traced to have arisen out of the circumstance of the body being removed to the house of his attached friend, Mr. Peter Moore, in Great George Street, Westminster, from the residence of Sheridan, in Saville Row, as the distance to the Abbey would render a walking funeral from the shorter distance more convenient. On the following Saturday the last tribute of respect, empty as it was, was paid him by a royal and noble train, who followed the funeral pomp with the usual trappings of outward woe. There were two royal brothers-the Duke of York and the Duke of Sussex. There were noble pall-bearers-the Duke of Bedford, the Earl of Lauderdale, Earl Mulgrave, the Lord Bishop of London, Lord Holland and Lord Spencer. Mr. Charles Brinsley Sheridan was the chief mourner. Amongst the titled phalanx was the Duke of Argyle, the Marquises of Anglesey and of Tavistock, several earls, lords, viscounts; amongst the least were the two men, "walking humbly side by side," who were the only real friends who soothed his dying hours-the author of the Pleasures of Memory, Samuel Rogers, and the excellent physician, Dr. Bain. It was with great difficulty that an unoccupied spot could be found in the Poet's Corner for the remains; but at last, close to his great patron and attached friend, the immortal Garrick, they found their resting-place, and a plain flat stone tells the passer by that there is to be found RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN, Died 7th July, 1816. This marble is the tribute of an attached friend, |