TOM SHERIDAN.

Lyttelton Times, Volume LVII, Issue 6534, 4 February 1882, Page 3

TOM SHERIDAN.

(ill the Tear Bound.) This brilliant member of a brilliant family enjoys a reputation of a rather tantalising sort. Everyone can allude to " Tom ” Sheridan, and the mention of his name calls up a figure whose humour seems to have a flavour not equal to that of his great parent, but agreeable in its kind. Yet,' popularly, there is scarcely anything known of this clever young man. But we fancy we know him. Another of these mysterious unaccountable reputations is that of Sydney Smith’s brother Bobus, of whom little or nothing is preserved, yet who is accepted universally. Not to know him argues oneself unknown. This obscurity as to Tom Sheridan may, however, be a little lightened, and the colours in his somewhat shadowy outlines deepened. What is certain, too, is that we regard him, even under such conditions, with an indulgent partiality much aa people do some off-hand good-humoured youth, met but onee or twice, leaving an impression that we should like to know more of him, to see him again. In the same spirit, too, we have something of the old man’s feeling, who likes the young fellow for the sake of his father, old Biohard Brinsley Sheridan, who fills such a large space in the social life of his day, but unfortunately does not improve as the yean advance ; he grows less respectable, in fact, as more is known of him. Indeed, it may be assumed that most "viveurs” of his class were driven by their wants and tastes, and the difficulty of satisfying them, to practices which the world now holds to be intolerable and " shady." It may be said that young Tom’s reputation may be fairly traced to a single weU-known reply, or retort, of his, which has been considered of such excellent flavour and quality as to confer fame. This is his well-known answer to his father's threat " to out him off with a shilling;" and which took ths shape of, “ You haven’t got it about you, sir P ’’ Now, in this, when first heard, there was something so unexpected or original (it has since grown familiar to Us), something in the compounded insinuation, the implied doubt as to his parent being able to command the coin in question, and the eagerness to secure present cash at the sacrifice of his inheritance, such as it wai| there was something that so piqued the public in all this $ that it came to be accepted that the person capable of snob a flight must be a wit of the first water, and capable ol other efforts. When a boy, he is said to have been like his beautiful mother, and his face to have had that peculiar look which is shown in thelovely Gainsborough at Dulwich. Like hie father, he wae sent.to Harrow, and it if eurioue that he had the same oelebiated master ••his father enjoyed, viz., Dr Parr. After passing

to Cambridge, he entered the army, and being put into what ii called a " crack ” regiment, was almost at once placed on the staff of one of his father’s political friends and associates, Lord Moir»,also a bosom friend of the Segent's. This nobleman commanded in Scotland, and lived in one of the old stately mansions of Edinburgh belonging to Lord Wemyss, the grandfather of the present Lord Kloho; and here the agreeable young officer, recommended moreover as the " son of the celebrated Brinsley," was welcomed into every house, and lived a rather dissipated life, to the prejudice of his official duties. A story is told of the good-humoured reproof given by his chief, who did not relish his servants being kept up, and his household disturbed by his entry during the small hours: the door being one night, or rather morning, opened by Lord Moira himself, acting as porter. It was when he was in this country that he fell in love with a young lady, Miss Oallerdar, an heiress, and married her. The agreeable and always welcome " Monk" Lewis, on a round of visits in Scotland, once found himself at Inverarv Castle, during festivities given for the Duke’s birthday. Here were a number of lively persons of congenial dispositions, and among others Mr Sheridan and his bride. It struck him that marriage had not as yet “ steadied ” the gay son of Brinsley. "lam very regular," writes Mr Lewis to his mother, "in my mode of life, compared to most of the other inhabitants of the castle; for many of them do not go to bed till between six and seven; and between four and five in the morning is the time generally selected as being most convenient for playing at billiards. The other morning, I happened to wake about six o’clock, and hearing the billiard-balls in motion, I put on my dressinggown, and went into the gallery, from whence, looking down into the great hall, I descried Tom Sheridan and Mr Chester (who had not been in bed all night) playing with great eagerness. Fortunately, Tom was in the act of making a stroke on which the fate of the whole game depended, when I shouted to him over the balustrade, ‘Shame! shame! a married man! ’ on which he started back in a fright, missed his stroke, and lost the game. “ Mrs T. Sheridan ia also here at present, very pretty, very sensible, amiable and gentle; indeed, so gentle, that Tom insists upon it that her extreme quietness and tranquility is a defect in her character. Above all, he accuses her of such an extreme apprehension of giving tronble (he says), it amounts to absolute affectation. He affirms that, when the cook has forgotten her duty, and no dinner is prepared, Mrs Sheridan says, ‘ Oh! pray don’t get dinner on purpose for me; I’ll take a dish of tea instead;’ and he declares himself certain, that if she were to set her clothes on fire, she would step to the bell veiy quietly, and say to the servant, with great gentleness and composure, * Fray, William, is there any water in the house ?’ —‘ No madame; but I can soon get some.’ —* Oh dear no; it does not signify ; I dare say the fire will go out of itself!’"

One of Tom’s droll adventures is retailed by Theodore Hook in his own manner in Gilbert Gurney. He was staying at Lord Graven’s at Benham (or rather Hampstead), and one day proceeded on a shooting excursion, like Hawthorn, with only his “ dog and his gun,” on foot, and unattended by companion or keeper; the sport was bad, the birds few and shy, and he walked and walked in search of game, until, unconsciously, he entered the domain of some neighbouring squire. A very short time after, he perceived advancing towards him, at the op of his speed, a jolly, comfortable gentleman, followed by a servant, armed, as it appeared, for conflict. Tom took up a position, and waited the approach of the enemy. "Hallo! you sir,” said the squire, when within half earshot; “what ore you doing here sir, eh ? ” “ I’m shooting, sir,” said Tom. “Do you know where you are, sir ? " said the squire. “ I’m here, sir,” said Tom. “ Here, sir ? ” said the squire, growing angry; “and do you know where here is, sir ?—these, sir, are my manors; what d’ye think of that, sir, eh ? ” “ Why, sir, as to your manners,” said Tom, “ I can’t say they seem over-agreeable." “I don’t want any jokes, sir,” said the squire; “I hate jokes. Who are you, sir?—what are you? ” “ Why, sir,” said Tom, "my name is (Sheridan —I am staying at Lord Craven’s—l have come out for some sport—l have not had any, and I am not aware that I am trespassing.” “ Sheridan! ” said the squire, cooling a little; “oh! from Lord Graven’s,eh? Well, sir, I could not know tha*, sir—l—" “No, sir,” said Tom, “but you need not have been in a passion.” “ Not in a passion, Mr Sheridan!” said the squire; “you don’t know, ,*ir, what these preserves have cost me, and the pains and trouble I have been at with them; it’s all very well for you to talk, but if you were in my place, I should like to know what you would say upon such an occasion.” “ Why, sir,” said Tom, “if I were in your place, under the circumstances, I- should say, 'I am convinced, Mr Sheridan, you did not mean to annoy me, and as you look a good deal tired, perhaps you’ll come up to my house and take some refreshment.’’’ The squire was hit by this nonchalance, and, it is needless to add, acted upon Sheridan’s suggestion. “ So far,” said poor Tom, “ the story tells for me, now you shall hear the sequel.” After having regsped himself at the squire’s house, and having said five hundred more good things than he swallowed ; having delighted his host,, and having half won the hearts of bis wife and daughters, the sportsman proceeded on bis return homewards. In the course of his walk, he passed through a farmyard ; in the front of the farmhouse was a green, in the centre of which was a pond. On the pond were ducks innumerable swimming and diving ; on its verdant banks a motley group of gallant cocks and pert partlets, picking and feeding—the farmerwas leeningover the hatch of the barn, which stood near two cottages on the side of the green. Tom hated to go back with an empty bag ; and, having failed in his attempts at higher game, it struck him as a good joke to ridicule the exploits of the day himself, in order to prevent anyone else from doing it for him; and he thought that to carry home a certain number of the domestic inhabitants of the pond and its vicinity, would serve the purpose admirably. Accordingly, up he goes to the farmer, and accosts him very civilly. “ My good friend,” says Tom, “I make you an offer.” “Of what, sur?” says the farmer. “Why,” replies Tom, “ I've been out all day fagging after birds, and haven’t had a shot. Now, both my barrels are loaded—l should like to take home something; what shall I give you to let me have a shot with each barrel at those ducks and fowls—l standing here—and to have whatever I kill ? ” “ What sort of a shot are you?” said the farmer. "Fairish 1 ” said Tom, “ fairish!" “ And to have all you kill?" said the farmer, “eh?" “ Exactly so,” said Tom. “ Half-a-guinea,’ said the farmer. “That’s too much," said Tom. “ I’ll tell you what I’ll do—l’ll give you a seven-shilling piece, which happens to be all the money I have in my pocket." « Well," said the man, " hand it over." The payment was made. Tom, true to his bargain, took hie poit by the barn door, and let fly with- one Wrel, and then with the other, and such quacking and splashing and screaming and fluttering, had never been seen in that place before. Away ran Tom, and, delighted at his success, picked up first a hen then a chicken, then fished out a dying duck or two, and ao on, until he numbered eight head of domestic game, with which his bag was nobly distended. “Those wore right good shots, sur," said the farmer. “ Yes," said Tom, “ eight ducks and fowls were more you bargained for, old fellow-worth rather more, 1 suspect, than seven shillings—eh P" “ Why, yes," said the man, scratching his head, “ 1 think they be; but what do I care for that ? they are none of them mine!’’ “ Here,” said Tom, “ I was for once in my life beaten, and made off as fast as I could, for fear the right owner of my gome might make, his appearance—not but that I could have given the fellow that took me in seven times as much as I did, for his cunning and coolness." „ It is well-known that Tom pursued a course as reckless and extravagant as that of his father, was ever in debt, and desperately struggling to raise money. There

• something piteously humiliating in this spectacle of the spendthrift son and the spendthrift father thus competing with one another in this degrading course. We have a picture of him at Watier’e club, gambling all night, and stripped of everything, in which state Mr Brummell found him, sitting very ruefully, and with his last stake before him. The good-natured Beau, who was at that time in luck, offered to “ take the box," and joining their fortunes, sat down to play for both. He had very soon won a sum of over a thousand pounds, and stopping at the right moment, divided the winnings, and said in his rough way: “ Now, Tom, go home to your wife and brats, and never touch a card again." This is a pleasant trait, but, as may be conceived, it was profitless. The gambler is never cured.

We next end the agreeable Tom filling an office for which, of all offices in the world, he was least capable, or at least as capable as was his father, namely, that of managing a theatre. For a time be helped to administer or disorganise the great concern of Drury Lane. The truth wae, both father and son looked on the undertaking as a sort of bank or bill-discounting establishment for tbeir improvident necessities, and the worthy treasurer, Feske, seems to have hod a miserable time striving to provide for the calle of the theatre, and save the moneys from being intercepted by father and son. It wes indeed a ease of killing the goose. When the moneys which should have gone to pay salaries, etc., were intercepted, pledged, and anticipated, we have quite enough to account for the decay of Old Drury. r The connection of the Sheridans with Drury Lane lasted for some 20 years. Indeed, it was amazing how he contrived to maintain it so long. But few oonld have an idea of the desperate shifts, the devices for raising the wind, the miserable straits in whioh the manager found himself. The life of the baited treasurer, Peake, must have been a burden to him. His papers have been preserved, and offer a truly piteous picture of the life of the impecunious. Letters, scraps, bills, all to the one tune, written also by the various members of the family, the father, the wife, and the son. Thus Sheridan : “ Peakb, —It is impossible to say the suffering I have and the distress you bring on mo when yon totally disappoint and make me a liar to my own servants. Peake.it seems hard.” Again, he would press for money, £lO or £2O, “as tomorrow was the last day for the taxes."

“ Dear Peake, —I really must make a point that you take up yoar acceptance for May. It diatresees me beyond measure." And again: “Be the consequence ever ao much you moat send me twenty pounds by the bearer.”

Then from another quarter the unhappy Peake would be pressed by the wife who wrote that "Mr Sheridan assured me that a certain sum was to be remitted to me every week. X cannot go on longer without money. B. Sh.” Then Mr Tom Sheridan comes on the scene addressing, "Dear Dickey,” asking for ten or twenty pounds, vowing that " 1 haven’t been master of a guinea scarcely since I have been in town, and wherever I turn myself I am disgraced! To my father it is vain to apply. He is mad, and bo shall I be if 1 don’t hear from you.” Again: “ Remember the 30th. Do not, for God’s sake, forget me. Something must be done.”

A Mr Gosher had been persuaded by Sheridan, the father, into advancing two hundred and forty pounds to pay the renters, to be repaid out of the nightly receipts, at the rate of twenty pounds per night. After a month the'creditor writes indignantly “that he has received nothing!” On May Ist, when money is forwarded to Peake, out of the receipts of Pisano, amounting to one hundred and thirty-four pounds, the agent writes* “Sib, —The above is the statement, and enclosed is the bill which the money went to pay. by Mr Sheridan’s engagement. There is still, yon will see, thirteen shillings and twopence due to me.” Besides this the treasurer had to meet a dinner order for “Bichardson, Grubb and Sheridan,” amounting to three pounds, with a “ Mr Peake, pay this bill,” written below. To say nothing of wagers, such as : “ 1759, Mr Kelly bets Mr Sheridan a romp and dozen that the king comes to Drury Lane this season for Bluebeard.”

“ Pray,” writes poor Mr Sheridan, distracted, after a warm diecoeaion between the managers, “do not let any bad consequences arise from the words that passed between Mr Sheridan and Ur Grubb to-night, and if you should suspect anything, 1 entreat yon to let me know.” It is, indeed, a most painful picture. Finally, as is well known, Sheridan wasbornt out of Drury Lane, and- then the actual ruin of himself and his family set in. Once the son asked his father for a supply of cash. “ Money I have none," was the reply. “ Bat money I must have,” said the other. “If that be the case,” said the affectionate parent, “ you will find a case of loaded pistols upstairs, and a horse ready-saddled in the stable—the night is dark, and you are within half a mile of Hounslow Heath.” “ I understand what yon mean,” said Tom, “but I tried that list night. I unluckily stopped Peake, your treasurer, who told me that you had been beforehand with him, and had robbed him of every sixpence in the world.” “ Mike ” Kelly, who knew both father and son well, gives ns a glimpse of both at this time.

“ The Drury Lane Company were performing at the Lyceum, under the firm of Tom Sheridan, the. late Colonel Greville, and Mr Arnold, and were very successful; and every person belonging to the establishment were regularly paid their full salaries. Tom Sheridan, for some part of the time, was manager, and evinced great talent and industry. I had the pleasure of living on terms of intimacy with him; and many a time, when he used to come to town from Cambridge, with his friend, the Honourable Berkeley (haven, have they favoured me with their company. “Tom Sheridan did not ‘ape his sire’ in all things; for whenever he made an appointment, he was punctuality personified. In every transaction I had with him, I always found him uniformly correct; nor did he nnfrequently lament his father’s indolence and want of regularity, although he had (indeed naturally) a high veneration for his talents.

“ Tom Sheridan had a good voice, and true taste for music, which, added to his intellectual qualities and superior accomplishments, caused his society to be sought with the greatest avidity. “The two Sheridans were supping with me one night after the opera, at a period when Tom expected to get into Parliament. • I think, father,’ said he, ‘ that many men, who are called great patriots in the House of Commons, aw' great humbugs. For my own part, if I get into Parliament, I will pledge myself to no party, but write upon my forehead, in legible characters, “To be Let.” ’ ‘And under that, Tom,’ said his father, * write—" Dnfumished.”’”

Actually, Tom Sheridan made two attempts to enter Parliament, but he failed. In 1806 he was defeated for Liskeard by Mr Huskisson. He also attempted Stafford with similar result. At last his necessities became too pressing for him to remain in England, and his powerful friend obtained for him the place of Colonial Paymaster at the Cape of Good Hope, with a salary of one thousand two hundred pounds a year. The Prince Begent sent for him on his departure, and, with many kindly words and good wishes, made him a substantial present of money. But he was in wretched health, and showed signs of consumption. Angelo, the fencing-master, met him on the eve of his departure, and with a sickly countenance ho said, smiling: “ Angelo, my old acquaintance, I shall have twenty months longer to live.” This presentiment was, unhappily, fulfilled. He died on September 12,1817, only a short time after his gifted father, and left his family totally unprovided for. His body was brought home; and the destitute children with their mother returned to England. It was little suspected then that the family would have so favourable a fortune in store. Of the three girls one became the well-known brilliant Mrs Norton; another the charming Lady Dnfferin, one of the sweetest and most attractive of women, even in old age; and the third Duchess of Somerset.