have paid him every possible attention. We think, however, that his biographer has made rather too much of this circumstance; attendance on a dying parent implying rather the negation of a very odious vice, than any proof of exalted virtue. Of Sheridan's first wife, our author speaks in terms of lofty praise. "It would," he says, "be difficult, perhaps, to find any where a more perfect example of that happy mixture of utility and ornament, in which all that is prized by the husband and lover combines." Immediately after, however, occurs a passage, which, in our capacity of Christian observers, we think it important to notice, as it seems rather inconsistent with the above unqualified encomium, and betrays the low standard of morality with which such writers as Mr. Moore are apt to rest satisfied. is as follows:

The

:-

passage "To say that, with all this, she was not happy, nor escaped the censure of the world, is but to assign to her that share of shadow, without which nothing bright ever existed on this earth. United not only by marriage, but by love, to a man who was the object of universal admiration, and whose vanity and passions too often led him to yield to the temptations by which he was surrounded, it was but natural that, in the consciousness of her own power to charm, she should be now and then piqued into an appearance of retaliation, and seem to listen with complacence to some of those numerous worshippers who crowd around such beautiful and unguarded shrines.

Not

that she was at any time unwatched by Sheridan ;-on the contrary, he followed her with a lover's eyes throughout; and it was believed of both, by those who knew them best, that, even when they seemed most attracted by other objects, they would willingly, had they consulted the real wishes of their hearts, have given up every one in the world for each other. So wantonly do those, who have happiness in their grasp, trifle with that rare and delicate treasure, till, like the careless hand playing with a rose,"In swinging it rudely, too rudely, alas, They snap it-it falls to the ground!" Vol. ii. pp. 143, 144.

To us it appears that there is throughout this passage a studied attempt to extenuate, if not to justify, a course of conduct which

does but just keep within the boundaries of what is called female honour, and is for ever sporting on the verge of evil. With respect to the husband, it seems to intimate that his conduct was immoral; and with respect to the wife, it suggests that she was not free from such behaviour as might justly expose her to suspicion and remark. Such morality is not the morality of a Christian: nay, more, it is not the virtue of a pagan; for Cæsar said of his wife, that it became her Sheridan not to be even suspected. acted with prudence at least, if not from principle, as well as from a feeling of pride or honour, when, during the early years of their union, he had refused to allow his wife to continue her exertions as a public singer. Yet, gross inconsistency! he afterwards, by his own licentious conduct, "piques her into an appearance of retaliation," and permits numerous worshippers to crowd around the beautiful and unguarded shrine." But this "unguarded" shrine, it seems, was "not unwatched," but "followed with a lover's eyes throughout." The whole of this description, as well as the conduct described, is, to our minds, a mass of unintelligible absurdity. Mr. Moore would perhaps feel contempt for what he might call religious cant; but we would caution him, if indeed he can venture to open such a page as ours, against another form of cant, of which his remarks here afford a specimen; the cant of a species of licentious refinement in handling moral subjects, which, while it may be said to hang garlands upon the pillars of the temple of virtue, is at the same instant secretly undermining its foundations.

One striking instance of Sheridan's amiable disposition, was his fondness for children. He would play sportively with them for hours together, at the house of a friend, forgetful of the chaise which was at the door to take him away. The love of children, or a delight in

witnessing and contributing to their little pleasures, is certainly one of the most unequivocal proofs of an amiable and affectionate temper; but it is lamentable to reflect, that even Sheridan's better qualities were so little under the curb of principle, or self-government, as often to interfere with all the sober duties of life. He lived by the impulse of the moment; and whether it was mere child's play, or far less innocent gratifications, he had not the firmness to resist the caprice of the moment.

Sheridan's lightheartedness, the gaiety and dance of his animal spirits, uncurbed by any due principle of self-government, or by the Christian principle of not doing to others what we would not have done to ourselves, impelled him to frequent acts of puerile mischief, such as are known by the terms, "hoaxes" and "practical jokes." Nothing that wantonly hurts the feelings of another person, is justifiable; nor is that state of mind to be envied, which can enjoy pleasure in the vexation of others. Some of Sheridan's practical jests were also too serious, even admitting the principle not to be wrong in itself. The following anecdote, connected with this subject, furnishes a proof of the facility with which, for the sake of amusement, he could turn his hand to employments the most opposite to his prevailing habits of life.

"The Rev. Mr. O'B (afterwards Bishop of having arrived to dinner at Sheridan's country-house near Osterley, where, as usual, a gay party was collected, (consisting of General Burgoyne, Mrs. Crewe, Tickell, &c.) it was proposed that on the next day (Sunday) the Rev. Gentleman should, on gaining the consent of the resident clergyman, give a specimen of his talents as a preacher in the village-church. On his objecting that he was not provided with a sermon, his host offered to write one for him, if he would consent to preach it; and, the offer being accepted, Sheridan left the company early, and did not return for the remainder of the evening. The following morning Mr. O'B-found the manuscript by his bed-side, tied together neatly (as he described it) with riband ;-the subject of the discourse being the Abuse

of Riches. Having read it over, and corrected some theological errors, (such as 'it is easier for a camel, as Moses says,') he delivered the sermon in his most impressive style, much to the delight of his own party, and to the satisfaction, as he unsuspectingly flattered himself, of all the rest of the congregation, among whom was Mr. Sheridan's wealthy neighbour, Mr. C.

"Some months afterwards, however, Mr. O'B-perceived that the family of Mr. C- with whom he had previously been intimate, treated him with marked coldness; and, on his expressing some innocent wonder at the circumstance, was at length informed, to his dismay, by General Burgoyne, that the sermon which Sheridan had written for him, was, throughout, a personal attack upon Mr. C, who had at that time rendered himself very unpopular in the neighbourhood by some harsh conduct to the poor, and to whom every one in the church, except the unconscious preacher, applied almost every sentence of the sermon." Vol. ii. pp. 85, 86.,

His composition of a sermon may naturally lead to the inquiries, What was his religious belief? Or, had he any fixed creed at all? We regret that our author has not communicated any thing which throws light on these questions. We are told, indeed, (and it may be mentioned to his credit,) that he expressed himself very strongly, in the House of Commons, in reprobation of that outrageous spirit of proselytism which would make converts to atheism and infidelity, and was little heard of till the period of the French Revolution. Among the many hideous productions to which that era gave birth, this was assuredly not the least monstrous. "Although," said Sheridan, "no man can command his conviction, I have ever considered a deliberate disposition to make proselytes in infidelity as an unaccountable depravity. Whoever attempts to pluck the belief, or the prejudice, on this subject, from the bosom of one man, woman, or child, commits a brutal outrage; the motive for which I have never been able to trace or conceive." This is the language of an individual, humane and sensible, but at the same time very

careless as to his religious faith. It savours too much of sceptical laxity, as to what may be the right faith. "No man can command his conviction!" Every man may surely so far influence the assent of his own mind, as to use all the means in his power for ascertaining what is truth; and we have the highest assurance that the meek shall be guided in judgment, and taught the good and the right way. But Sheridan was too careless to give the subject of religion any serious and persevering thought; and the profligate tenor of his life must have manifestly indisposed him for any minute inquiry into doctrine which "reveals the wrath of Heaven against all unrighteousness and ungodliness of men."

a

A singular trait of character appears in his behaviour, when he was summoned to attend the funeral of his friend Richardson. He was too late, and came in just at the close of the service; but prevailed upon the "good-natured clergyman (more good natured, we think, than dignified) to read it over again. When all was over, he repaired with some friends to a tavern, and drowned his sorrow in copious draughts to the memory of the deceased. Here we observe all his characteristic carelessness and intemperance, strangely combined with what looked like a transient shade of seriousness; else why should he desire that the burial service should be read, contrary to all custom and propriety, a second time over the same body? He seems to have wished to discharge what he accounted a religious duty towards his friend; and, the form once over, he thought no more about the matter. This was indeed a goodness passing away with the morning cloud and the early

dew.

There are, we think, one or two, among many, moral lessons, which a review of the life and character of Sheridan most forcibly impresses on the reflecting mind.

The first is, that a naturally kind and amiable disposition is very compatible with great selfishness, and disregard to the comfort and happiness of others. The subject of this memoir was endued by nature with a warm and feeling heart. He is spoken of when at school as an engaging boy. Besides his love of children, which has been mentioned, the ardour of his early attachment, and the simple, easy, and cordial tenor of his epistolary correspondence with his wife, his relatives, and his friends betoken a disposition cast in one of nature's softer moulds, and by no means devoid of "the milk of human kindness." In proportion, however, as he advanced to manhood, these tendencies of his nature were counteracted by worldly views and interests, operating upon a careless and irreligious mind. The consciousness of his talents, and the prospect of turning them to good account, stimulated his vanity and ambition; and these are two principles, which, in proportion as they prevail, are productive of the greatest selfishness. In the mean while, his utter recklessness, as to pecuniary matters, subdued all the kinder feelings of his breast, and made him unjust and cruel to his creditors. Perhaps his long exemption from arrest, in consequence of his parliamentary privilege, might have tended to harden his heart in this respect. Thus, though originally amiable, he became, throughout the long run of life, selfish, unjust, oppressive-in short, a trifler (whether deliberately so or not, matters little) with the comfort and convenience of others. It will be said, perhaps, by worldly minded fatalists, of whom there are not a few, that he was made what he was by circumstances. We reply, that, had he early cultivated the principles of true religion, and become a sincere believer, he would have received grace to surmount the most unfavourable circumstances; and his natural good

temper would have shone forth in a career of habitual honesty, kindness, and beneficence.

Another lesson which we may derive from his history is, the influence of carelessness in lowering, and as it were neutralizing, all the nobler qualities of an individual. Dr. Johnson has justly observed, with reference to the life of Savage, that "negligence and irregularity, long continued, will make knowledge useless, wit ridiculous, and genius comtemptible." And is not this in some degree the posthumous lot of Sheridan, as of Savage; who, however, was much inferior to the former in point of various and commanding talent? We acknowledge the wit, the eloquence, and the abilities of this versatile genius; but we defy any man to think of him, without involuntarily admitting the ideas of his frivolity, his recklessness, his want of honesty, and his want of sobriety. When we have called up the nobler spirits, a set of baser ones rise the instant after, and put them down. When we have admired one side of the medal, we turn it, and presently forget its beauties in our disgust at the vile reverse. A mixture there doubtless is in all human characters: "Nihil est ab omni parte, either beatum," or bonum. But the evil in the case of Sheridan is, that nearly all his bright side was intellectual, and his dark side moral. Mr. Moore says, that "Nature, in forming his mind, had implanted there virtue, as well as genius." All we can say is, that, while he cultivated in some degree the one, he bestowed no pains upon the other.

We shall conclude with one remark. Prudence as to pecuniary matters may be, and indeed is continually apparent, where there is no influence of true religion; but the influence of true religion cannot frequently exist without such prudence. Doubtless there are religious persons-though we

think the number is comparatively few-who, from a certain indolence or volatility of natural temper, are less careful than they ought to be, as to the management of their property, and in regulating their expenditure by their income. But, if their religion be any thing more than profession, they will strenuously resist their propensity to extravagance and improvidence. To this they will be powerfully prompted, not merely by a dread of involving themselves in disgrace and in difficulties, but also by a desire of enlarging their sphere of usefulness. They will save, in order that they may have wherewith to give to him that needeth; and will display the fruits of their economy, in a wise and conscientious application of their resources to the glory of God and the good of their fellow-creatures. This, after all, is the best carefulness, as it provides us with "bags which wax not old;" this is the truest prudence, as it secures for us "a treasure in the heavens." Had the subject of this memoir been conspicuous for such wisdom, he would have stood on a much higher pedestal in the temple of Fame; and, as he dazzled his contemporaries with his eloquence, he might have edified posterity by his example.

The Opinions of an Old Gentleman on several Moral and Religious Subjects. London: 1826. 2s.

THE plan of our review department being rather to lay before our readers a few critiques of some considerable length, upon works either of intrinsic importance, or which at least furnish, whether from their merits or demerits, useful subjects of discussion, than to notice the numerous productions which are every month issuing from the press, we can seldom devote an article to those innumerable little tales and minor publications, moral and religious, which begin to constitute a

large portion of the literature of the age. Occasionally, however, we deviate from our usual course, in order to inquire what is passing in the school-room and the nursery, as well as in the church, or the larger world. The result of our inspection, comprising a general review of the benefits and evils of fictitious narratives, whether for the parlour, the nursery, or the kitchen, has been more than once submitted to the consideration of our readers. We do not take up the little publication now before us with a view to renew the discussion; for, in truth, there is nothing more of fiction or narrative in the volume than a few brief anecdotal notices, just sufficient to introduce the various subjects of consideration. There is no plot, no tale, no connected series of incidents. The " Old Gentleman" merely gets into or out of the Walthamstow stage; or dines with a friend in London; or retires to his house in the country; or receives a call from an acquaintance, or a visit from his nephew; in order to furnish an occasion for a display, we do not mean ostentatiously, of his opinions on the various subjects, moral and religious, which furnish the contents of his volume. The author states, and we presume without fiction, that the papers which compose his little work were originally drawn up for the gratification of a private circle, without the remotest view to their ever meeting the public eye. His children and grandchildren, however, prevailed upon him to put forth these opinions, stamped with the experience of threescore years and fifteen, "under the idea that that circumstance may possibly lend them weight with the young, and that some among the rising generation may not refuse to profit by these counsels of age."

The subjects discussed in the vo. lume are "Punctuality; Temper; Retirement; Friendship; Cheerfulness; Candour; Happiness; the Sabbath; Prejudice; Sensibility; Pride; Retrospection; Religion;

Providence; and Faith." On these several topics the Old Gentleman exhibits the result of his reflections; which are generally sensible, useful, and well matured. The reader must, however, keep in mind, that the writer is nearly entitled to the venerable appellation of an octogenarian; which must excuse an air of positiveness, not to say of egotism, which is apparent in his remarks. We admire his inflexible "punctuality," the first virtue enumerated in his catalogue; but he should not be constantly reminding his friends of it. We admit, also, that he is well qualified "to set the world to rights," but he should avoid the appearance of thinking himself so. But we must allow somewhat, in these respects, to his venerable years; and proceed with all due respect to profit by his excellent remarks. He at least proves what he asserts; which it would be well if all who utter decisive "opinions" would first consider whether they are capable of doing.

The first head, as we have already remarked, is Punctuality; which the author considers to be "the proper performance of all incumbent duties at the proper time." He shews that the neglect of this rare virtue leads. to many evils; as, for example:

"In many cases, it amounts to a robbery. A short time since, in a village in the neighbourhood of London, a committee of eight ladies, who managed the concerns of

an institution which had been formed for the relief of the neighbouring poor, agreed to meet on a certain day, at twelve o'clock precisely. Seven of them attended punedid not arrive till a quarter of an hour tually at the appointed hour; the eighth after. She came in, according to the usual mode, with I'm very sorry to be behind the time appointed, but really the time slipped away without my being sensible of

it; I hope your goodness will excuse it; I am sure I beg pardon.' One of the ladies, who was a Quaker, replied, Truly, friend, it doth not appear clear to me that we ought to accept of thine apology. Hadst thyself only lost a quarter of an hour, it would have been merely thy concern; but in this case, the quarter must be multiplied by eight, as we have each two hours of useful time sacrificed by thy lost a quarter; so that there have been want of punctuality.'" pp. 5, 6.