With regard then to the first question before us, the effect a free trade to Ireland will have upon the British revenue immediately resulting from the British trade to Ireland; I conceive, as the produce of the British colonies and settlements is left totally out of the question, there is but one inconvenience to Great Britain which can possibly arise.
You have remarked, Sir, that though Ireland has at all times had full liberty to manufacture goods for her own consumption; wonderful favour! generous indulgence! Was there no mature deliberation, no minute investigation, in British councils, that this liberty has so long existed?
But though Ireland, you say, has had this liberty, the consumers have hitherto found it easier to purchase from England many articles both of luxury and convenience than to make them at home; — the effect then of a free exportation of Irish manufactures to foreign countries would, probably, be a considerable improvement in their quality and workmanship, so that the Irish consumer would no longer be induced to purchase similar manufactures from England — the value of the exports of which to Ireland would be in that case a net loss to Great Britain — agreed. — I will admit this to be one of the consequences of freedom of trade to Ireland — I will not advantage myself by assertion and say there is no justice in the observation, and that it should not hold — I will allow it to go much further in theory than I am convinced it will in practice — what then? — is it only a free trade that can be productive of such consequences, and are these necessarily prevented by depriving us of it? — do they not already exist to their utmost extent, although we have no free trade? have not our non-importation agreements already produced in this respect the very effects which you might apprehend from granting Ireland a free trade? — it is, therefore, fair to conclude, that as far as relates to the commerce immediately carried on between the two kingdoms, no additional loss or inconvenience could result to Great Britain from the grant.
Now, Sir, as these non-importation agreements were founded in necessity, not choice; as they were entered into in order to give employment to thousands of starving manufacturers, the probability is, that as soon as we can find sufficient sale in foreign markets for our manufactures, to keep our manufacturers fully employed, we shall again resort to England for such commodities, as from the infant state of many of our manufactures, it will require much time before they can be brought to any equal degree of perfection in this country; so that, far from being detrimental to Great Britain, it is by means only of allowing a free trade to Ireland, that Great Britain can ever hope to recover the advantages she formerly derived from her commerce with this kingdom.
With regard to the second question, how far freedom of trade to Ireland may interfere with the trade of Great Britain to foreign parts, I shall only quote on the occasion a few passages from your pamphlet, which, from a comparative view with the rest of your letter, I should think had been quotations made by you: —
“It is now well understood that the flourishing of neighbouring nations in their trade is to our advantage; and that if we could extinguish their industry and manufactures, our own would languish; — if we are capable of looking beyond the extent of a single, shopboard, we cannot consider the Irish as rivals in interest, even though they should become our associates in lucrative pursuits.
“Sir Matthew Decker (who wrote upon some points with singular ability) was clearly of opinion that the restraints on the Irish woollen contributed in their effects to diminish the foreign trade of Great Britain,”
and finally,
“it seems demonstrable, that the export of native manufactured commodities from any one part of the king’s dominions, must be advantageous to the whole, wherever the burdens and duties are so regulated as to leave no exclusive advantage; for that again would operate as a monopoly.”
Now, Sir, what is become of that chain of difficulties with which you endeavoured to inclose the question? How is the whole system of the British revenue involved in it? — Where is the necessity for all that delay, caution, deliberation, and mature discussion upon which you descant so much?
I think, Sir, it is evident that this question, which according to you, is of a nature so very intricate and difficult, may be reduced to a very narrow compass. — The demand of Ireland for a free trade, means nothing more than that all commercial regulations in Ireland should be left to the wisdom and equity of the Irish legislature: — This would effect England only in two ways; first, it might her exports to Ireland. Secondly, it might interfere with her trade with foreign powers. As to the first of these, I have shewn that our NON-IMPORTATION agreements, in their operations, are already productive of the same effects to a greater extent.
As to the second, you have yourself furnished very good arguments to prove that the apprehensions of England on that account are groundless.
With regard to any participation of trade, that Great Britain may think proper to allow to Ireland, I have already said, that this forms no part of the demand of Ireland for a free trade, but is a point which must be referred to future discussion; probably the best means of settling it, would be to appoint deputations from the parliaments of both kingdoms, who should determine upon the concessions to be made by both, and upon the commercial regulations to be established for the common benefit of the whole empire.
I have hitherto, in speaking of the subject of the Irish free trade, used your expressions, that it should be allowed, given, or granted by Great Britain. — I have done this merely to comply with the usual stile of speech upon the occasion; but had you condescended to visit this country, before you ventured to write upon it, you would have seen, from the present situation and spirit of the people, that, to talk of an English parliament allowing a kingdom possessed of a complete legislature within herself, the use of her own ports — to talk of the representatives of the freeholders of England, giving leave to the people of Ireland, who acknowledge no such authority, to export their own manufactures, or to import such merchandize as they shall think proper to import — I say, Sir, that had you condescended to visit this country, you would have perceived, that to talk thus is to talk idly.
A free trade, such as I have defined it to be, the people of Ireland do not ask of Great Britain as a favour, they demand it as a right — they conceive that no power upon earth, excepting their own legislature, consisting of the king, lords and commons of Ireland, possess a right to shut up their ports. — When they demand a free trade, they do not address the English parliament in their legislative capacity to repeal restrictive laws; — they address you as a neighbouring nation, to disavow an odious usurpation, equally impolitic and unjust, to disclaim not laws but arbitrary illegal determinations, which nothing but your being possessed of a fleet, and our want of one, could have inspired you with the injustice to maintain.
We would request our sovereign, the king of Ireland, that he would not suffer certain vessels belonging to his Britannic majesty, (commonly called revenue cutters) to board, in a piratical manner, the ships belonging to Irish subjects; for, when such cutters, under pretence of searching for goods, the exportation of which from Ireland is prohibited only by the arbitrary resolves of the British parliament, and not by any Irish law, such vessels act without law, and are therefore pirates.
This doctrine may appear new to you, Sir, but it would be prudent in your patrons to recollect, that it is a doctrine, adopted by three millions of people. — When you speak then, of Ireland’s being
“a jewel in the British crown,”
you seem to forget that Ireland has a diadem of her own — plundered indeed it may have been by the usurped power of a foreign legislature; but, stripped and unadorned as it is, it can still confer power and dignity on the wearer. — The HONOUR, Sir, of this diadem, is now guarded by FIFTY THOUSAND ARMED FREEMEN.
RICHARD SHERIDAN.
The Biographies
Richard Brinsley Sheridan by Sir Joshua Reynolds
MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE RT. HON. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN by Thomas Moore
/> CONTENTS
VOLUME I.
PREFACE.
CHAPTER I.
CHAPTER II.
CHAPTER III
CHAPTER IV.
CHAPTER V.
CHAPTER VI.
CHAPTER VII.
CHAPTER VIII.
CHAPTER IX.
CHAPTER X.
VOLUME II.
CHAPTER I.
CHAPTER II.
CHAPTER III.
CHAPTER IV.
CHAPTER V.
CHAPTER VI.
CHAPTER VII.
CHAPTER VIII.
CHAPTER IX.
CHAPTER X.
CHAPTER XI.
Thomas Moore (1779-1852) was an Irish poet, singer, songwriter and entertainer, now best remembered for the lyrics of “The Minstrel Boy” and “The Last Rose of Summer”.
TO
GEORGE BRYAN, ESQ.,
THIS WORK IS INSCRIBED,
BY
HIS SINCERE AND AFFECTIONATE FRIEND,
THOMAS MOORE.
VOLUME I.
PREFACE.
The first four Chapters of this work were written nearly seven years ago. My task was then suspended during a long absence from England; and it was only in the course of the last year that I applied myself seriously to the completion of it.
To my friend, Mr. Charles Sheridan, whose talents and character reflect honor upon a name, already so distinguished, I am indebted for the chief part of the materials upon which the following Memoirs of his father are founded. I have to thank him, not only for this mark of confidence, but for the delicacy with which, though so deeply interested in the subject of my task, he has refrained from all interference with the execution of it: — neither he, nor any other person, beyond the Printing-office, having ever read a single sentence of the work.
I mention this, in order that the responsibility of any erroneous views or indiscreet disclosures, with which I shall be thought chargeable in the course of these pages, may not be extended to others, but rest solely with myself.
The details of Mr. Sheridan’s early life were obligingly communicated to me by his younger sister, Mrs. Lefanu, to whom, and to her highly gifted daughter, I offer my best thanks for the assistance which they have afforded me.
The obligations, of a similar nature, which I owe to the kindness of Mr. William Linley, Doctor Bain, Mr. Burgess, and others, are acknowledged, with due gratitude, in my remarks on their respective communications.
CHAPTER I.
BIRTH AND EDUCATION OF MR. SHERIDAN. — HIS FIRST ATTEMPTS IN LITERATURE.
Richard Brinsley [Footnote: He was christened also by the name of Butler, after the Earl of Lanesborough.] Sheridan was born in the month of September, 1751, at No. 12, Dorset Street, Dublin, and baptized in St. Mary’s Church, as appears by the register of the parish, on the fourth of the following month. His grandfather, Dr. Sheridan, and his father, Mr. Thomas Sheridan, have attained a celebrity, independent of that which he has conferred on them, by the friendship and correspondence with which the former was honored by Swift, and the competition and even rivalry which the latter so long maintained with Garrick. His mother, too, was a woman of considerable talents, and affords one of the few instances that have occurred, of a female indebted for a husband to her literature; as it was a pamphlet she wrote concerning the Dublin theatre that first attracted to her the notice of Mr. Thomas Sheridan. Her affecting novel, Sidney Biddulph, could boast among its warm panegyrists Mr. Fox and Lord North; and in the Tale of Nourjahad she has employed the graces of Eastern fiction to inculcate a grave and important moral, — putting on a fairy disguise, like her own Mandane, to deceive her readers into a taste for happiness and virtue. Besides her two plays, The Discovery and The Dupe, — the former of which Garrick pronounced to be “one of the best comedies he ever read,” — she wrote a comedy also, called The Trip to Bath, which was never either acted or published, but which has been supposed by some of those sagacious persons, who love to look for flaws in the titles of fame, to have passed, with her other papers, into the possession of her son, and, after a transforming sleep, like that of the chrysalis, in his hands, to have taken wing at length in the brilliant form of The Rivals. The literary labors of her husband were less fanciful, but not, perhaps, less useful, and are chiefly upon subjects connected with education, to the study and profession of which he devoted the latter part of his life. Such dignity, indeed, did his favorite pursuit assume in his own eyes, that he is represented (on the authority, however, of one who was himself a schoolmaster) to have declared, that “he would rather see his two sons at the head of respectable academies, than one of them prime minister of England, and the other at the head of affairs in Ireland.”
At the age of seven years, Richard Brinsley Sheridan was, with his elder brother, Charles Francis, placed under the tuition of Mr. Samuel Whyte, of Grafton Street, Dublin, — an amiable and respectable man, who, for near fifty years after, continued at the head of his profession in that metropolis. To remember our school-days with gratitude and pleasure, is a tribute at once to the zeal and gentleness of our master, which none ever deserved more truly from his pupils than Mr. Whyte, and which the writer of these pages, who owes to that excellent person all the instructions in English literature he has ever received, is happy to take this opportunity of paying. The young Sheridans, however, were little more than a year under his care — and it may be consoling to parents who are in the first crisis of impatience, at the sort of hopeless stupidity which some children exhibit, to know, that the dawn of Sheridan’s intellect was as dull and unpromising as its meridian day was bright; and that in the year 1759, he who, in less than thirty years afterwards, held senates enchained by his eloquence and audiences fascinated by his wit, was, by common consent both of parent and preceptor, pronounced to be “a most impenetrable dunce.”
From Mr. Whyte’s school the boys were removed to England, where Mr. and Mrs. Sheridan had lately gone to reside, and in the year 1762 Richard was sent to Harrow — Charles being kept at home as a fitter subject for the instructions of his father, who, by another of those calculations of poor human foresight, which the deity, called Eventus by the Romans, takes such wanton pleasure in falsifying, considered his elder son as destined to be the brighter of the two brother stars. At Harrow, Richard was remarkable only as a very idle, careless, but, at the same time, engaging boy, who contrived to win the affection, and even admiration of the whole school, both masters and pupils, by the mere charm of his frank and genial manners, and by the occasional gleams of superior intellect, which broke through all the indolence and indifference of his character.
Harrow, at this time, possessed some peculiar advantages, of which a youth like Sheridan might have powerfully availed himself. At the head of the school was Doctor Robert Sumner, a man of fine talents, but, unfortunately, one of those who have passed away without leaving any trace behind, except in the admiring recollection of their contemporaries. His taste is said to have been of a purity almost perfect, combining what are seldom seen together, that critical judgment which is alive to the errors of genius, with the warm sensibility that deeply feels its beauties. At the same period, the distinguished scholar, Dr. Parr, who, to the massy erudition of a former age, joined all the free and enlightened intelligence of the present, was one of the under masters of the school; and both he and Dr. Sumner endeavored, by every method they could devise, to awaken in Sheridan a consciousness of those powers which, under all the disadvantages of indolence and carelessness, it was manifest to them that he possessed. But remonstrance and encouragement were equally thrown away upon the good- humored but immovable indifference of their pupil; and though there exist among Mr. Sheridan’s papers some curious proofs of an industry in study for which few have ever given him credit, they are probably but the desultory efforts of a later period of his life, to recover the loss of that first precious time, whose susceptibility of instruction, as well as of pleasure, never comes again.
; One of the most valuable acquisitions he derived from Harrow was that friendship, which lasted throughout his life, with Dr. Parr, — which mutual admiration very early began, and the “idem sentire de re publica” of course not a little strengthened.
As this learned and estimable man has, within the last few weeks, left a void in the world which will not be easily filled up, I feel that it would be unjust to my readers not to give, in his own words, the particulars of Sheridan’s school-days, with which he had the kindness to favor me, and to which his name gives an authenticity and interest too valuable on such a subject to be withheld:
“Hatton, August 3, 1818.
“DEAR SIR,
“With the aid of a scribe I sit down to fulfil my promise about Mr. Sheridan. There was little in his boyhood worth communication. He was inferior to many of his school-fellows in the ordinary business of a school, and I do not remember any one instance in which he distinguished himself by Latin or English composition, in prose or verse. [Footnote: It will be seen, however, though Dr. Parr was not aware of the circumstance, that Sheridan did try his talent at English verse before he left Harrow.] Nathaniel Halhed, one of his school-fellows, wrote well in Latin and Greek. Richard Archdall, another school-fellow, excelled in English verse. Richard Sheridan aspired to no rivalry with either of them. He was at the uppermost part of the fifth form, but he never reached the sixth, and, if I mistake not, he had no opportunity of attending the most difficult and the most honorable of school business, when the Greek plays were taught — and it was the custom at Harrow to teach these at least every year. He went through his lessons in Horace, and Virgil, and Homer well enough for a time. But, in the absence of the upper master, Doctor Sumner, it once fell in my way to instruct the two upper forms, and upon calling up Dick Sheridan, I found him not only slovenly in construing, but unusually defective in his Greek grammar. Knowing him to be a clever fellow, I did not fail to probe and to tease him. I stated his case with great good-humor to the upper master, who was one of the best tempered men in the world; and it was agreed between us, that Richard should be called oftener and worked more severely. The varlet was not suffered to stand up in his place; but was summoned to take his station near the master’s table, where the voice of no prompter could reach him; and, in this defenceless condition, he was so harassed, that he at last gathered up some grammatical rules, and prepared himself for his lessons. While this tormenting process was inflicted upon him, I now and then upbraided him. But you will take notice that he did not incur any corporal punishment for his idleness: his industry was just sufficient to protect him from disgrace. All the while Sumner and I saw in him vestiges of a superior intellect. His eye, his countenance, his general manner, were striking. His answers to any common question were prompt and acute. We knew the esteem, and even admiration, which, somehow or other, all his school-fellows felt for him. He was mischievous enough, but his pranks were accompanied by a sort of vivacity and cheerfulness, which delighted Sumner and myself. I had much talk with him about his apple-loft, for the supply of which all the gardens in the neighborhood were taxed, and some of the lower boys were employed to furnish it. I threatened, but without asperity, to trace the depredators, through his associates, up to their leader. He with perfect good-humor set me at defiance, and I never could bring the charge home to him. All boys and all masters were pleased with him. I often praised him as a lad of great talents, — often exhorted him to use them well; but my exhortations were fruitless. I take for granted that his taste was silently improved, and that he knew well the little which he did know. He was removed from school too soon by his father, who was the intimate friend of Sumner, and whom I often met at his house. Sumner had a fine voice, fine ear, fine taste, and, therefore, pronunciation was frequently the favorite subject between him and Tom Sheridan. I was present at many of their discussions and disputes, and sometimes took a very active part in them, — but Richard was not present. The father, you know, was a wrong-headed, whimsical man, and, perhaps, his scanty circumstances were one of the reasons which prevented him from sending Richard to the University. He must have been aware, as Sumner and I were, that Richard’s mind was not cast in any ordinary mould. I ought to have told you that Richard, when a boy, was a great reader of English poetry; but his exercises afforded no proof of his proficiency. In truth, he, as a boy, was quite careless about literary fame. I should suppose that his father, without any regular system, polished his taste, and supplied his memory with anecdotes about our best writers in our Augustan age. The grandfather, you know, lived familiarly with Swift. I have heard of him, as an excellent scholar. His boys in Ireland once performed a Greek play, and when Sir William Jones and I were talking over this event, I determined to make the experiment in England. I selected some of my best boys, and they performed the Oedipus Tyrannus, and the Trachinians of Sophocles. I wrote some Greek Iambics to vindicate myself from the imputation of singularity, and grieved I am that I did not keep a copy of them. Milton, you may remember, recommends what I attempted.
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