Whitbread took charge of the erection of the new theatre; an act of Parliament was passed enabling it to be rebuilt by subscriptions; Sheridan was paid £28,000 for his interest in the property, and his son Thomas £12,000 for his quarter share. But this was conditional on Sheridan's absolute abandonment of all connection with the theatre; and Whitbread enforced this stipulation with pitiless exactness. Whitbread was the one man whose heart was too hard even for Sheridan to soften. It was three years before Sheridan set foot in the theatre he had ruled for twenty-five of the most prosperous and glorious years of its career. Deprived of the revenues of the theatre, and sinking deeper into embarrassment, he was at last unable to raise the money needed for his election at Stafford. In 1812 he made his final speech in the House of Commons; it was a warning against the rapacious designs of Napoleon. From this time, Moore tells us, "the distresses of Sheridan now increased every day, and through the short remainder of his life it is a melancholy task to follow him." He was forced to sell his books, his plate, his pictures, and even to part with the portrait of Mrs. Sheridan by Sir Joshua Reynolds. In the spring of 1815 came "one of the most humiliating trials of his pride;" "he was arrested and carried to a sponging-house, where he remained two or three days." That Sheridan should have been neglected in this condition by the Prince whom he had served to his own discredit, is only what one might have expected from the First Gentleman in Europe; but there are those who declare that a sum of money, about £3,000, was sent Sheridan by the Prince, although it was "either attached by his creditors, or otherwise dissipated in such manner that very little of it actually reached its destination." It is to be remembered that he had no pension like Burke, and that no public or private subscription was ever taken up for Sheridan as it was for Pitt and Fox, for

Lamartine and for Daniel Webster. It must be remembered, too, that the settlement on the second Mrs. Sheridan was £15,000, and that Sheridan's debts at his death were found to be less than £5,000 -far less than the debts of Fox or Pitt. The anonymous "Octogenarian," in whose biography is to be found the best account of Sheridan's last hours, describes Mrs. Sheridan's grief and her constant attention in his last days. Peter Moore, Dr. Bain, and Samuel Rogers were also true to their fast failing friend. None the less is it a fact, that he was under arrest when he was dying, "on a writ issued at a time when the invalid was in a state of unconsciousness." Fortunately, the sheriff's officer had a kind heart, and, as the custodian of the dying man, he protected him against any other suit which might be urged against him. Mrs. Sheridan sent for the Bishop of London to read prayers for him, but Sheridan was wholly insensible. At nine o'clock on the morning of Sunday, July 7, 1816, he said "Good-bye;" these were his last words. He sank rapidly, and died at twelve noon.

On the following Saturday, July 13, the body of the man who had died in neglect was buried with great pomp in Westminster Abbey, with Dukes and Earls as pall-bearers, and with a long string of Royal and Noble mourners.

V.

Sheridan's character is enigmatic; it is not to be read off-hand and at random ; it is complicated and unequal; and it is to be understood and explained only at the cost of effort. Sheridan was goodnatured and warm hearted; he never did any one any intentional injury; but he brought trouble on all who trusted him. While he was gentle, kind and affectionate, his wife had reason to feel neglected, and his father parted from him in anger. He earned

Dear die

I will return to Town

tuesday and come to

you between 445 when than no

shall immediatly & satisfacting

concludes for the Howie in Saville-Row

FAC-SIMILE OF AUTOGRAPH LETTER OF SHERIDAN.

enormous sums of money, and his advice to others was always admirable, but his own affairs were in ever-increasing confusion. He was always involved in debt; yet his accounts as a government officer were scrupulously accurate. To continue the antitheses would be easy, for the story of his life is a series of antithesis; but to suggest a clue to the labyrinth of his character is not so easy. Briefly, I am inclined to think that it is to be sought in the uncommon conjunction in Sheridan of two irreconcilable things, a very high standard of morals with an absence of training and discipline. The latter failing vitiated the former virtue. Incapable of keeping himself up in the clear air and on the high level of exalted principle to which he aspired, he was far less careful in the ordinary duties of life than are those whose aim is not so lofty. When he found that he could not attain the high standard he had set before him, he cared little how much he fell short of it-and so sank below the ethical mean of ordinary mortals. There was nothing venal or sordid about him; he was liked by all, though all who liked him did not respect him; he was a humorist even in his code of morality. He always meant well, but while the spirit might be willing the flesh was often weak. He intended to be not merely generous with everybody, but also, absolutely honest and upright; his heart was in the right place, as the saying is, but his views were too magnificent for his means; and he had neither self-denial nor self-discipline; when, therefore, he had once put himself in a position where he was unable to do exactly what he had agreed to do, and what he always desired to do, he ceased to care whether or not he did all he could do. In time this habit grew upon him, and the frequency of failure to accomplish what he had intended, blunted his aspirations. He always meant well, as I have said, and as time went on people had to be content to take the will for the deed. This type of char