only common enough, but reconcilable with the most ordinary display of the vilest rhetoric of the hustings. Mr. Burke's eloquence, which may be referred to the highest place in the scale either of oratory or composition, owes its power, when read, to the impression of all-grasping knowledge and unbounded power, developed in its forward, earnest, impetuous and unlabored sweep of mingled reason and narrative. In his sentences there is a seemingly unsought grace, music, and aptness. In his rare ornaments, a sublimity of conception, and simplicity of construction never to be found out of the highest order of poetry, The strong grasp of his reason and passions is too apparent to allow of the suspicion of sentence making; while, in his periods, at once simple and elegant, there is much of that "light unseen before" which carries with it the sense and the wizard power of inspiration-the thoughts, "that voluntarily move harmonious numbers." With all this there is a stamp of giant power in the mass, the grouping and arrangement of his matter, for which our reading furnishes no parallels; yet, it is affirmed that the effects of his speeches on the house, were far from proportioned to their admitted excellence. Instances to the contrary are on record; but the fact, as a general fact, may be admitted. Mr. Burke was too earnest in his views, and too imperious, irritable and exclusive, in maintaining them, to retain that popularity which for ten years attested the supremacy of powers like his. He was, all through, his own party, and rather a constitutionalist than a Whig. His consistency was that of principle, not party; as such his changes were never rightly understood. We are not directly engaged with him, and are unwilling to be seduced into his panegyric, but have found it hard to touch on his name, without finding in the comments of the historians and biographers of his day, too much occasion for digression. For the cause of the disproportionate effect of his speeches, we would principally assign the earnestness of mental grasp, which led him to commit the common error of thinking his subject as interesting to his hearers as to himself, and making too large an allowance both for the powers and patience of commou minds. Mr. Moore, who never fails to do ample justice to the intellectual powers of this mighty man, makes some remarks

which help to explain the difficulty. Mr. Burke threw so much of his passions into his subject as to give the air of personal feeling to everything he touched; his earnestness rose to intemperance, and his opposition carried the impression of hate. The prominency of the moral features of his character accumulated prejudice and hostility against him, among his opponents, and constraint among his friends.

Sheridan, on the other hand, had the popular recommendations of social wit and humour, strong and shrewd common sense, the most perfect freedom from even the appearance of party rancor, and a trained temper, which gave his wit an annoying ascendancy over Pitt. His virtues were of the popular character, and there was a charm in his very name, that excited pleasing associations, and prepared men to be pleased. No harsh feeling of party opposition awakened at the voice of one who rather acted with his friends, than gave his feelings to the cause; no invidious fear or constraint stood between him and those on the same side, for he dictated nothing to the conduct or feelings of his party. He was a first-rate combatant in the van; but he contested rather for party and for distinction, than from the zeal of the cause. He was not, like Mr. Burke, absorbed into the feeling, and identified with the questionhe did not, like that great master, adopt the wrongs against which he spoke, so as to seem to superficial observation, excited by personal hatred and animosity-he did not, like Burke, tower above party views, and, looking on great questions with the broad scope of a legislative eye, act and think without respect to the conventional understandings of party-he, of all men, when he rose to speak, had the fullest hold on sympathy. He also spoke with a direct view to effect. In the selection of topics, in the choice of language, in the range of illustration, he never lost sight of the actual audience before him. He played well and dexterously with the established notions of life. He was aware that new notions are slow in reaching the common sense of mankind; and he knew that the common class of hearers cannot be easily drawn into extensive views, or profound generalizations. He therefore, like Pitt, adhered to the common sense of the subject, and drew nothing from its history or philosophy.

Mr. Moore's frequent comparisons

between these eminent Irishmen, has perhaps led us a little out of our way in the same track. Having observed that the chief strength of Sheridan lay in his shrewdness and wit, he goes on to make the following comparison between these eminent orators :

"That luxuriance of fancy, which in Burke was natural aud 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 co-ordinate agency; 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."

This is very good, but we think the comment does not go to the real point of difference illustrated by the facts. Burke's imagery is the result of his fancy exercised on the current of his argument, and arising unsought out of his views of fact. Sheridan's wit is altogether independent of his reason. To him the rhetoric is the principal part of the speech; to Burke, the facts and arguments. One, therefore, looks for ornament, and the other arranges his reasons and arrays his facts. Mr. Burke's mind never wastes a thought on dress; Sheridan's tact and shrewd ness, on the other hand, while they gave him infinite power in the management of single reasons, and in the use of particular points, led him more peculiarly to the study of popular effect, and the cultivation of those ornaments of wit and fancy, of which he knew the power, and excelled in the use. With him there was no great leading viewhe looked not into the theory of the subject, but displayed singular dexterity in skimming over its surface, and adorning its common sense.

Without entering further into those considerations, which must, when closely applied, limit the praise due to all but the very highest efforts of human genius and skill, it may be enough for our general method, to add that Sheridan's success seems to have been unparalleled, both on this occasion, and again when the case of Mr. Hastings was brought on in the Lords.

It will complete the brief notice we can afford here to this transaction, to say that, after occupying the attention of the country for a period of nearly ten years, Mr. Hastings was honourably acquitted. When the law of the land acquits, it would be unfair, perhaps, to put him again upon his trial, before his own generation is yet quite past away; yet few have touched upon the history of the time, who have not recorded their opinion, and expressed their strong censure on either side. After an attentive perusal of the whole trial, and most of its commentators, we are inclined, like Sir Roger de Coverly, to think that "there is much to be said on both sides." If the political interests of a nation are to be consulted, without regard to any considerations of private right, or the claims of justice and humanity, we are not unwilling to admit that Mr. Hastings had difficulties to contend with, and permanent advantages to secure, by this irrespective policy. We think that in some instances necessity, in others, political expediency, might be speciously pleaded for such inhuman resources; but we cannot, at the same time, give our consent to the distorted view which would cast a stain on the splendid combination of virtues and powers, which were arrayed on the side of humanity against a course of actions which no plea can reconcile with the higher, and, in our opinion, prior rights of humanity. If ever there was before a human tribunal any case fitted to awaken every strong sympathy, and enlist every rightly principled mind against an individual, it was this. But the acquittal was not unjust-from many causes the evidence, though sufficient for private judgment, was not absolutely equal to the strict rules which have been wisely and humanely adopted for the ends of a justice leaning to mercy. Again, it must be admitted, that in the continuation of a trial equal to the siege of Troy, Mr. Hastings must have suffered more than any British law inflicts on the worst of criminals. The India

house expressed their feeling by paying the expenses of the trial, which had run up to £70,000, and by settling some provision for life on Mr. Hastings.

Shortly after this latter occasion, an event took place, which, while it diffused a strong and anxious sensation of grief, fear, and anxious interest through the kingdom, was more especially felt in that lesser circle in which lay the fortunes of Sheridan. The health of the king had been in appearance slightly affected during the summer of this year, (1788), and by the advice of his physicians, he visited Cheltenham. The effect was seemingly beneficial; but soon after, on his return to Kew, his disorder grew worse, and from the mysterious rumours which began to circulate, the truth was soon suspected. A drawing-room, held to counteract these alarming impressions, seems rather to have had the effect of confirming them, and precipitating the progress of the disease, as his deportment was such as to warrant the inference of mental derangement; and Mr. Pitt, on attending him in his closet immediately after, found the symptoms of this malady more strongly marked. "It is supposed," says the Whig historian of Geo. IV. that this was the third manifestation of the same infirmity, since his illness in 1765.”

He went next day to Windsor with Mr. Pitt. Parliament had been prorogued to November. The Prince and the Duke of York took up their abode at Windsor; and the Prince, with Mr. Pitt, the Queen, &c. transacted the King's private affairs. Mr. Moore has expressed, in his glowing language, the interest of this anxious event among those who had any thing to fear or hope. To some, the king's natural robustness had seemed a lease of continued power; some looked with fear on the supposed liberalism and profligacy of the Prince; on the other hand, there were those who (to use Mr. Moore's expression) thought "the happy millennium of Whiggism" was come at last. The first impression produced on those about the king, was that of immediate danger. The symptoms were alarming enough to paralyse for a moment all but the common feelings of humanity, and the fever of expectation. Both parties stood in suspeuse, uncertain how nature might in a few hours decide their hopes and fears. During this period of agitation, a few letters preserved by Mr. Moore, VOL. IX.

shew the place which Sheridan held in the confidence of the Prince, while they also enable us to judge of the critical state of the case. In one of these letters to Sheridan, from Admiral Payne, Comptroller of the Household to the Prince, a sentence strongly shews the real apprehension of the moment :

"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 situ ation is every moment becoming worse and worse; his pulse is weaker and weaker. The Prince has desired Dr. Warren to write an account of him, which he is now doing. His letter says, if an amendment does not take place in twentyfour hours, it is impossible for the king to support it.

He adds to me, that he will answer for his never living to be declared a lunatic."

On the next day the danger apprehended seems to have passed. The result of the medicinal resources which had been tried, and of a profound sleep, had been to remove the fatal symptoms; but though the fever was abated, the signs of insanity continued with equal violence. The work of plot and counter plot presently began, and both parties were equally alert and equally disinterested. The scale of this memoir does not admit of an expanded view of proceedings, which have in them no historical importance. The most remarkable feature of this short struggle, is the exhibition of character which it offers in the respective conduct of Mr. Pitt and Fox; the latter of whom, with his usual impetuosity of judgment, asserted the extreme position of the Prince of Wales' express right to assume "the power of sovereignty," &c. An error which gave an immediate and decisive advantage to Mr. Pitt, who, availing himself of the oversight of an opponent, did not fail to magnify the effect of his error, by occupying the popular ground he had relinquished, and maintaining a doctrine which fell as far into the opposite extreme. The doctrines of either cannot be regarded as having any value otherwise thau as the weapous of the moment in the contest for power. To state the particulars of this manoeuvre, is not to our purpose. The appointment of the Prince of Wales to the Regency was regarded by all parties as a matter of consent. The contest was partly as to the principle, but chiefly as to the authorities with which he was to be invested.

2 Y

While the Whigs would have conceded the full prerogatives of royalty, and, doubtless, clutched in expectation the sceptre, which they would have debased to their purposes, Mr. Pitt was for limiting the powers of the Regent to the mere necessities of the public business. He thus acted on a principle, which, though the wisest under the circumstances, could not yet fail to gall the spirit of the Prince, who saw something derogatory in restrictions which he felt to savor of distrust, and which his Whig friends considered unconstitutional. Many of the letters and papers on the Prince's part, were on this occasion from the pen of Sheridan; and there can be no doubt that in every act he was a principal and confidential adviser. In the parliamentary discussions to which it gave rise, he also took an active, and, in some instances, efficient part. The real feelings of the Prince were expressed by the sincere high mind of Burke, who, less fitted by genius for the manœuvres of party, was the best adapted organ for the true expression of those sentiments, which ought to be those of a prince. An able letter was drawn forth in reply to a communication from Mr. Pitt, of his plan of a Regency, accompanied by restrictions, which appeared to some of the Prince's friends to amount to an insult, and to some a dangerous assault on the prerogative of the crown.

"Among the appointments named, in contemplation of a regency," writes Mr. Moore, "the place of Treasurer of the Navy was allotted to Mr. Sheridan." But from the same authority we learn that he felt a strong doubt as to those arrangements being effected, and refused to trouble himself so far as to examine the plan of the apartments which he should have to occupy in Somerset-house.

The physicians had given up all hope of the king's recovery, when fortunately for the nation, a new method of treatment was resorted to by the skill and courage of Dr. Willis, who stood opposed to the rest of the medical attendants. His confidence was rewarded with success; and as the Whigs were confidently approaching the object of their expectations, they were shocked by intimations which they strenuously repelled, because they strongly disliked them. How far Sheridan may have participated in a feeling so much in accordance with human nature, we cannot pretend to say, but

he had the good taste at least to exhibit a nobler feeling. When the news of the king's convalescence was brought to his house :

"There were present, besides Mrs. Sheridan and his sister, Tickell, who, on the change of administration, was to have been immediately brought into Parlia ment-Joseph Richardsou, 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 join in drinking his Majesty's speedy recovery.'

339

Mr. Moore preserves some of the letters written by Sheridan on this occasion. One is to the Queen, pending the question-the other to the King immediately after his recovery. They exhibit the weight of Sheridan's judgments in the deliberations of the Prince, and in a very high degree go to justify it. We shall perhaps be repeating ourselves, when we add that the place of Sheridan was peculiar. It is evident, that both friendship and the disinterested feeling which actu ates every high mind in delicate and difficult duties, had at least a strong share in the whole of Sheridan's conduct. To say more would be extravagant. There is a portion of selfinterest in the conduct of every public man, who is qualified for the management of nice and difficult affairs. Where there is the temptation of pros pective advantage, in whatever degree, the most disinterested affections may give the first impulse to action, yet such is our mingled nature, that those selfconsiderations, which are never far off. will throw their side-gleams on the purest course as it proceeds, and alloy what begins in virtue with no small portion of prudence at least, if not of a more debasing mixture.

We have mentioned Sheridan's love of the practical species of jest, and noticed the specimens which are found in most of the more detailed memoirs of himself, and of those with whom he was in habits of intimacy. He was also diligent in the manufacture of the squibs and crackers of epigram and pasquinade, in which Tickel was his common associate. Of these Mr. Moore gives a good specimen-too long to be transferred to our columus.

It

may, indeed, be said, that the wit is of that personal kind which cannot survive the person it is meant for. Their mode of composition, in this instance, seems to have been, to keep on the table a string of stanzas, loosely strung together, to which a joint-stock company seem to have contributed, as wit or malice gave occasion.

"There is," says Mr. Moore, "ap-. pended to one of Sheridan's copies of them a long list, (like a table of proscription,) containing a table of other names marked out for the same fate; and it will be seen by the following specimen, that some of them had a very narrow escape." But their wits had graver uses"debts, bonds, judgments, writs," shared their diligence, and kept their ingenuity on the rack. They were, as Mr. Moore tells us, "serviceable to each other against duns." This species of alliance, Mr. Moore traces in various documents, some of which also prove the invincible spirit of gaiety which could extract laughing matter from their perplexities.

We should here mention the death of Mr. Sheridan's father, which occurred in August, 1788. We need not detail particulars which now have little interest, more than they derive from the testimony they offer of Mr. Sheridan's amiable feeling, which the occasion called strongly and honourably forth.

The next topic which, could we afford it, we should be tempted to notice at considerable length, is the French revolution, of which it is impossible to speak justly in a few words. It is not, however, required. Unlike some other topics of its day, it still holds a distinct place in the public mind. It occupies as yet a broad space in modern history, and even holds its place in the opinions and feelings of party. Some of the most eminent writers of our own time have also given its history in a brief and popular form. And lastly, the biographer of Sheridan has little comparative concern with it. We must, therefore, endeavour to keep ourselves as clear as we may from this vast subject. A few of its consequences may find their place as we advance in our task; but we may here trace out its immediate influences on parties and persous, as connected with our proper subject. As revolutionary principles had been already in possession of a party in England, of which Mr. Fox may (for brevity sake) be named as the ostensible representative, it might be

extent

inferred that a strong sympathy would naturally be excited, with public movements, in such near vicinity with England, which seemed to be no more than the practical working out of Whig maxims. Neither were the first declarations of the French democracy of a nature to alarm the constitutional feelings of the many on either side. The language of the bill of rights was specious and even moderate; there seemed even to be a consent of feeling between the king and the people; nor could it be anticipated to what frantic extremes the passions and imagination of the people were to be worked up in the progress of events. It required a power of reason, and an of knowledge which one mind in millions does not possess to conceive the inflammatory progress of popular excitement into fanaticism, when tried on so large and so continued a scale. We say this, because it is the true justification of those who, like Sheridan, not being himself a political enthusiast, spoke and acted with his party in countenance of these principles, and in opposition to those who were rather influenced by the crimes of France and the danger of England, than by party feeling. Having said so much, we must add that Sheridan was zealous in professing his approbation of the revolutionists, and in the support of their party. Mr. Moore observes that the extreme opinions to which these events gave rise, showed themselves not as might be expected between the government and popular parties, but that they "broke out simultaneously in the very heart of the latter body." This might be supposed from the close and vital questions which then arose; they were such as to make the honest and the true principled shake off the lesser ties of party engagement, and act on the ground of the emergency alone. Such was the spirit and the conduct of Burke. This high-minded and chivalric spirit, alarmed for England, and deeply impressed with the true anticipations of his far-seeing intellect, nobly dared to step out from the ranks of his Whig friends—

"From amidst them forth he passed Long way through hostile scorn, which he sustained Superior."

In defiance of the malice of the small, and the resentment of the high, and, of a calumnious spirit, which has never since ceased from throwing its filth upon his tomb, he wrote and spoke