Delphi Complete Works of Richard Brinsley Sheridan

by Richard Brinsley Sheridan

  “I am sorry,” he said, on one occasion, “that it is hardly possible for any man to speak in this House, and to obtain credit for speaking from a principle of public spirit; that no man can oppose a Minister without being accused of faction, and none, who usually opposed, can support a Minister, or lend him assistance in anything, without being accused of doing so from interested motives. I am not such a coxcomb as to say, that it is of much importance what part I may take; or that it is essential that I should divide a little popularity, or some emolument, with the ministers of the Crown; nor am I so vain as to imagine, that my services might be solicited. Certainly they have not. That might have arisen from want of importance in myself, or from others, whom I have been in the general habit of opposing, conceiving that I was not likely either to give up my general sentiments, or my personal attachments. However that may be, certain it is, they never have made any attempt to apply to me for my assistance.”

  In reviewing his parliamentary exertions during this year, it would be injustice to pass over his speech on the Assessed Taxes Bill, in which, among other fine passages, the following vehement burst of eloquence occurs:

  “But we have gained, forsooth, several ships by the victory of the First of June, — by the capture of Toulon, — by the acquisition of those charnel-houses in the West Indies, in which 50,000 men have been lost to this country. Consider the price which has been paid for these successes. For these boasted successes, I will say, give me back the blood of Englishmen which has been shed in this fatal Contest. — give me back the 250 millions of debt which it has occasioned. — give me back the honor of the country which has been tarnished, — give me back the credit of the country, which has been destroyed, — give me back the solidity of the Bank of England, which has been overthrown; the attachment of the people to their ancient Constitution, which has been shaken by acts of oppression and tyrannical laws, — give me back the kingdom of Ireland, the connection of which is endangered by a cruel and outrageous system of military coercion, — give me back that pledge of eternal war, which must be attended with inevitable ruin !”

  The great success which had attended The Stranger, and the still increasing taste for the German Drama, induced Mr. Sheridan, in the present year, to embark his fame even still more responsibly in a venture to the same romantic shores. The play of Pizarro was brought out on the 24th of May, 1799. The heroic interest of the plot, the splendor of the pageantry, and some skilful appeals to public feeling in the dialogue, obtained for it at once a popularity which has seldom been equalled. As far, indeed, as multiplied representations and editions are a proof of success, the legitimate issue of his Muse might well have been jealous of the fame and fortune of their spurious German relative. When the author of the Critic made Puff say, “Now for my magnificence, — my noise and my procession!” he little anticipated the illustration which, in twenty years afterwards, his own example would afford to that ridicule. Not that in pageantry, when tastefully and subordinately introduced, there is any thing to which criticism can fairly object: — it is the dialogue of this play that is unworthy of its author, and ought never, from either motives of profit or the vanity of success, to have been coupled with his name. The style in which it is written belongs neither to verse nor prose, but is a sort of amphibious native of both, — neither gliding gracefully through the former element, nor walking steadily on the other. In order to give pomp to the language, inversion is substituted for metre; and one of the worst faults of poetry, a superfluity of epithet, is adopted, without that harmony which alone makes it venial or tolerable.

  It is some relief however, to discover, from the manuscripts in my possession, that Mr. Sheridan’s responsibility for the defects of Pizarro is not very much greater than his claim to a share in its merits. In the plot, and the arrangement of the scenes, it is well known, there is but little alteration from the German original. The omission of the comic scene of Diego, which Kotzebue himself intended to omit, — the judicious suppression of Elvira’s love for Alonzo, — the introduction, so striking in representation, of Rolla’s passage across the bridge, and the re-appearance of Elvira in the habit of a nun, form, I believe, the only important points in which the play of Mr. Sheridan deviates from the structure of the original drama. With respect to the dialogue, his share in its composition is reducible to a compass not much more considerable. A few speeches, and a few short scenes, re-written, constitute almost the whole of the contribution he has furnished to it. The manuscript- translation, or rather imitation, of the “Spaniards in Pern,” which he used as the ground-work of Pizarro, has been preserved among his papers: — and, so convenient was it to his indolence to take the style as he found it, that, except, as I have said, in a few speeches and scenes, which might be easily enumerated, he adopted, with scarcely any alteration, the exact words of the translator, whose taste, therefore, (whoever he may have been,) is answerable for the spirit and style of three-fourths of the dialogue. Even that scene where Cora describes the “white buds” and “crimson blossoms” of her infant’s teeth, which I have often heard cited as a specimen of Sheridan’s false ornament, is indebted to this unknown paraphrast for the whole of its embroidery.

  But though he is found to be innocent of much of the contraband matter, with which his co-partner in this work had already vitiated it, his own contributions to the dialogue are not of a much higher or purer order. He seems to have written down, to the model before him, and to have been inspired by nothing but an emulation of its faults. His style, accordingly, is kept hovering in the same sort of limbo, between blank verse and prose, — while his thoughts and images, however shining and effective on the stage, are like the diamonds of theatrical royalty, and will not bear inspection off it. The scene between Alonzo and Pizarro, in the third act, is one of those almost entirely rewritten by Sheridan; and the following medley group of personifications affords a specimen of the style to which his taste could descend: —

  “Then would I point out to him where now, in clustered villages, they live like brethren, social and confiding, while through the burning day Content sits basking on the cheek of Toil, till laughing Pastime leads them to the hour of rest.”

  The celebrated harangue of Rolla to the Peruvians, into which Kemble used to infuse such heroic dignity, is an amplification of the following sentences of the original, as I find them given in Lewis’s manuscript translation of the play: —

  “Rolla. You Spaniards fight for gold; we for our country.

  “Alonzo. They follow an adventurer to the field; we a monarch whom we love.

  “Atalib. And a god whom we adore!”

  This speech, to whose popular sentiments the play owed much of its success, was chiefly made up by Sheridan of loans from his own oratory. The image of the Vulture and the Lamb was taken, as I have already remarked, from a passage in his speech on the trial of Hastings; — and he had, on the subject of Invasion, in the preceding year, (1798,) delivered more than once the substance of those patriotic sentiments, which were now so spirit-stirring in the mouth of Rolla. For instance, on the King’s Message relative to preparation for Invasion: —

  “The Directory may instruct their guards to make the fairest professions of how their army is to act; but of these professions surely not one can be believed. The victorious Buonaparte may say that he comes like a minister of grace, with no other purpose than to give peace to the cottager, to restore citizens to their rights, to establish real freedom, and a liberal and humane government. But can there be an Englishman so stupid, so besotted, so befooled, as to give a moment’s credit to such ridiculous professions? … What, then, is their object? They come for what they really want: they come for ships, for commerce, for credit, and for capital. Yes; they come for the sinews, the bones — for the marrow and the very heart’s blood of Great Britain. But let us examine what we are to purchase at this price. Liberty, it appears, is now their staple commodity: but attend, I say, and examine how little of real liberty they themselves enjoy, who ar
e so forward and prodigal in bestowing it on others.”

  The speech of Rolla in the prison-scene is also an interpolation of his own, — Kotzebue having, far more judiciously, (considering the unfitness of the moment for a tirade,) condensed the reflections of Rolla into the short exclamation, “Oh, sacred Nature! thou art still true to thyself,” and then made him hurry into the prison to his friend.

  Of the translation of this play by Lewis, which has been found among the papers, Mr. Sheridan does not appear to have made any use; — except in so far as it may have suggested to him the idea of writing a song for Cora, of which that gentleman had set him an example in a ballad, beginning

  “Soft are thy slumbers, soft and sweet,

  Hush thee, hush thee, hush thee, boy.”

  The song of Mr. Lewis, however, is introduced, with somewhat less violence to probability, at the beginning of the Third Act, where the women are waiting for the tidings of the battle, and when the intrusion of a ballad from the heroine, though sufficiently unnatural, is not quite so monstrous as in the situation which Sheridan has chosen for it.

  The following stanza formed a part of the song, as it was originally written: —

  ‘Those eyes that beam’d this morn the light of youth,

  This morn I saw their gentle rays impart

  The day-spring sweet of hope, of love, of truth,

  The pure Aurora of my lover’s heart.

  Yet wilt thou rise, oh Sun, and waste thy light,

  While my Alonzo’s beams are quench’d in night.’

  The only question upon which he spoke this year was the important measure of the Union, which he strenuously and at great length opposed. Like every other measure, professing to be for the benefit of Ireland, the Union has been left incomplete in the one essential point, without which there is no hope of peace or prosperity for that country. As long as religious disqualification is left to “lie like lees at the bottom of men’s hearts,” [Footnote: “It lay like lees at the bottom of men’s hearts; and, if the vessel was but stirred, it would come up.” — BACON, Henry VII.] in vain doth the voice of Parliament pronounce the word “Union” to the two Islands — a feeling, deep as the sea that breaks between them, answers back, sullenly, “Separation.”

  Through the remainder of Mr. Sheridan’s political career it is my intention, for many reasons, to proceed with a more rapid step; and merely to give the particulars of his public conduct, together with such documents as I can bring to illustrate it, without entering into much discussion or comment on either.

  Of his speeches in 1800, — during which year, on account, perhaps, of the absence of Mr. Fox from the House, he was particularly industrious, — I shall select a few brief specimens for the reader. On the question of the Grant to the Emperor of Germany, he said: —

  “I do think, Sir, Jacobin principles never existed much in this country; and even admitting they had, I say they have been found so hostile to true liberty, that, in proportion as we love it, (and, whatever may be said, I must still consider liberty an inestimable blessing,) we must hate and detest these principles. But more, — I do not think they even exist in France. They have there died the best of deaths; a death I am more pleased to see than if it had been effected by foreign force, — they have stung themselves to death, and died by their own poison.”

  The following is a concise and just summary of the causes and effects of the French Revolutionary war: —

  “France, in the beginning of the Revolution, had conceived many romantic notions; she was to put an end to war, and produce, by a pure form of government, a perfectibility of mind which before had never been realized. The Monarchs of Europe, seeing the prevalence of these new principles, trembled for their thrones. France, also, perceiving the hostility of Kings to her projects, supposed she could not be a Republic without the overthrow of thrones. Such has been the regular progress of cause and effect; but who was the first aggressor, with whom the jealousy first arose, need not now be a matter of discussion. Both the Republic and the Monarchs who opposed her acted on the same principles; — the latter said they must exterminate Jacobins, and the former that they must destroy monarchs. From this source have all the calamities of Europe flowed; and it is now a waste of time and argument to inquire further into the subject.”

  Adverting, in his Speech on the Negotiation with France, to the overtures that had been made for a Maritime Truce, he says, with that national feeling, which rendered him at this time so popular, —

  “No consideration for our ally, no hope of advantage to be derived from joint negotiation, should have induced the English Government to think for a moment of interrupting the course of our naval triumphs. This measure, Sir, would have broken the heart of the navy, and would have damped all its future exertions. How would our gallant sailors have felt, when, chained to their decks like galley-slaves, they saw the enemy’s vessels sailing under their bows in security, and proceeding, without a possibility of being molested, to revictual those places which had been so long blockaded by their astonishing skill, perseverance, and valor? We never stood more in need of their services, and their feelings at no time deserved to be more studiously consulted. The north of Europe presents to England a most awful and threatening aspect. Without giving an opinion as to the origin of these hostile dispositions, or pronouncing decidedly whether they are wholly ill-founded, I hesitate not to say, that if they have been excited because we have insisted upon enforcing the old established Maritime Law of Europe, — because we stood boldly forth in defence of indisputable privileges, — because we have refused to abandon the source of our prosperity, the pledge of our security, and the foundation of our naval greatness, — they ought to be disregarded or set at defiance. If we are threatened to be deprived of that which is the charter of our existence, which has procured us the commerce of the world, and been the means of spreading our glory over every land, — if the rights and honors of our flag are to be called in question, every risk should be run, and every danger braved. Then we should have a legitimate cause of war; — then the heart of every Briton would burn with indignation, and his hand be stretched forth in defence of his country. If our flag is to be insulted, let us nail it to the top-mast of the nation; there let it fly while we shed the last drop of our blood in protecting it, and let it be degraded only when the nation itself is overwhelmed.”

  He thus ridicules, in the same speech, the etiquette that had been observed in the selection of the ministers who were to confer with M. Otto: —

  “This stiff-necked policy shows insincerity. I see Mr. Napean and Mr. Hammond also appointed to confer with M. Otto, because they are of the same rank. Is not this as absurd as if Lord Whitworth were to be sent to Petersburgh, and told that he was not to treat but with some gentleman of six feet high, and as handsome as himself? Sir, I repeat, that this is a stiff-necked policy, when the lives of thousands are at stake.”

  In the following year Mr. Pitt was succeeded, as Prime Minister, by Mr. Addington. The cause assigned for this unexpected change was the difference of opinion that existed between the King and Mr. Pitt, with respect to the further enfranchisement of the Catholics of Ireland. To this measure the Minister and some of his colleagues considered themselves to have been pledged by the Act of Union; but, on finding that they could not carry it, against the scruples of their Royal Master, resigned.

  Though Mr. Pitt so far availed himself of this alleged motive of his abdication as to found on it rather an indecorous appeal to the Catholics, in which he courted popularity for himself at the expense of that of the King, it was suspected that he had other and less disinterested reasons for his conduct. Indeed, while he took merit to himself for thus resigning his supremacy, he well knew that he still commanded it with “a falconer’s voice,” and, whenever he pleased, “could lure the tassel-gentle back again.” The facility with which he afterwards returned to power, without making any stipulation for the measure now held to be essential, proves either that the motive now assigned for hi
s resignation was false, or that, having sacrificed power to principle in 1801, he took revenge by making principle, in its turn, give way to power in 1804.

  During the early part of the new Administration, Mr. Sheridan appears to have rested on his arms, — having spoken so rarely and briefly throughout the Session as not to have furnished to the collector of his speeches a single specimen of oratory worth recording. It is not till the discussion of the Definitive Treaty, in May, 1802, that he is represented as having professed himself friendly to the existing Ministry:— “Certainly,” he said, “I have in several respects given my testimony in favor of the present Ministry, — in nothing more than for making the best peace, perhaps, they could, after their predecessors had left them in such a deplorable situation.” It was on this occasion, however, that, in ridiculing the understanding supposed to exist between the Ex-minister and his successor, he left such marks of his wit on the latter as all his subsequent friendship could not efface. Among other remarks, full of humor, he said, —

  “I should like to support the present Minister on fair ground; but what is he? a sort of outside passenger, — or rather a man leading the horses round a corner, while reins, whip, and all, are in the hands of the coachman on the box! (looking at Mr. Pitt’s elevated seat, three or four benches above that of the Treasury.) Why not have an union of the two Ministers, or, at least, some intelligible connection? When the Ex-minister quitted office, almost all the subordinate Ministers kept their places. How was it that the whole family did not move together? Had he only one covered waggon to carry friends and goods? or has he left directions behind him that they may know where to call? I remember a fable of Aristophanes’s, which is translated from Greek into decent English. I mention this for the country gentlemen. It is of a man that sat so long on a seat, (about as long, perhaps, as the Ex-minister did on the Treasury-bench,) that he grew to it. When Hercules pulled him off, he left all the sitting part of the man behind him. The House can make the allusion.” [Footnote: The following is another highly humorous passage from this speech:— “But let France have colonies! Oh, yes! let her have a good trade, that she may be afraid of war, says the Learned Member, — that’s the way to make Buonaparte love peace. He has had, to be sure, a sort of military education. He has been abroad, and is rather rough company; but if you put him behind the counter a little, he will mend exceedingly. When I was reading the Treaty, I thought all the names of foreign places, viz. Poindicherry, Chandenenagore, Cochin, Martinico, &c, all cessions. Not they — they are all so many traps and holes to catch this silly fellow in, and make a merchant of him! I really think the best way upon this principle would be this: — let the merchants of London open a public subscription, and set him up at once. I hear a great deal respecting a certain statue about to be erected to the Right Honorable Gentleman, (Mr. Pitt,) now in my eye, at a great expense. Send all that money over to the First Consul, and give him, what you talk of so much, Capital, to begin trade with. I hope the Right Honorable Gentleman over the way will, like the First Consul, refuse a statue for the present, and postpone it as a work to posterity. There is no harm, however, in marking out the place. The Right Honorable Gentleman is musing, perhaps, on what square, or place, he will choose for its erection. I recommend the Bank of England. Now for the material. Not gold: no, no! — he has not left enough of it. I should, however, propose papier mache and old banknotes.”]