A Georgian Pageant

by Frank Frankfort Moore

In Sheridan's account he mentions that while still in France he received “several abusive threats” from Mathews, and these had such an effect upon him that he wrote to Mathews, swearing that he would not close his eyes in sleep in England till he had treated Mathews as he deserved. In order to carry out this vow he had actually sat up all night at Canterbury, where his party halted on their way from Dover to London. He called upon Mathews on arriving in London, at the latter's lodging in Crutched Friars; this was at midnight, and the key of the door being mislaid, he had to wait two hours before he was admitted. He found Mathews in bed, but he induced him to rise and dress, though, in spite of his compliance as regards his raiment, he complained bitterly of the cold. There does not seem to have been any great suffering on Sheridan's part through a lack of heat. Then, as his sister's narrative put it, the man declared that his visitor had been grossly misinformed in regard to the libel in the Chronicle; and so he left for Bath, as has already been stated.

And now comes the account given by Sheridan of the return visit, and, told in his own laconic style, it suggests such comic situations as border on farce.

“Mr. S.,” he wrote, “staid but three hours in Bath. He returned to London. He sent to Mr. M. from Hyde Parck. He came with Captain Knight his second. He objected frequently to the ground. They adjourned to the Hercules Pillars. They returned to Hyde Parck. Mr. M. objected to the observation of an officer. They returned to Hercules Pillars. They adjourned to the Bedford Coffee house by agreement. Mr. M. was gone to the Castel Tavern. Mr. S. followed with Mr. E. Mr. M. made many declarations in favour of Mr. S. They engaged. Mr. M. was disarmed, Captain Knight ran in. Mr. M. begged his life and afterwards denied the advantage. Mr. S. was provoked by the (really well-meant) interposition of Captain Knight and the illusion of Mr. M. He insisted since Mr. M. denied the advantage, that he should give up his sword. Mr. M. denied, but sooner than return to his ground he gave it up. It was broke, and Mr. M. offered another. He was then called on to retract his abuse and beg Mr. S.'s pardon. With much altercation and much ill grace he complied.”

The remainder of this remarkably succinct composition is devoted to the subsequent misrepresentations of the transaction by Mathews, and by the writer's appeal to the seconds to say if his version of the encounter was not correct.

But whatever Mathews' account may have been it could scarcely be more ludicrous than Sheridan's. The marching and countermarching of the four gentlemen—it appears that brother Charles, although accompanying Richard to London, thought it more prudent to remain under cover during the actual engagement; he waited at Brereton's lodgings—the excuses made by Mathews in order to get away without fighting, and then at the last moment, the carrying out (by agreement) of a manouvre which landed Mathews in one tavern and the rest of the party in another—the set-to of the principals immediately after the “declarations” of one of them in favour of the other, and the final catastrophe could hardly be surpassed by the actions of a pair of burlesque duellists in what is technically known as a “knockabout” entertainment.

And after all this scrupulousness of detail one is left in doubt as to the exact locale of the encounter. Did it take place in the coffee-room of the Castell Inn, or did the eager combatants retrace their steps to the “parck”? The document written by Sheridan, though dealing very fully with the forced marches of the army in the field, throws no light upon this question of the scene of the battle. In respect of the signing of the treaty of peace, and the payment of the indemnity, it is, however, moderately lucid. Sheridan must have told his sister that Mathews signed the apology immediately after the encounter; she states this in her narrative. But Mathews did not merely sign the apology, he wrote every word of it, as one may see by referring to the facsimile, thoughtfully given in Mr. Fraser Rae's Life of Sheridan, and it would be impossible to say that the caligraphy of the apology shows the least sign of that perturbation from which one must believe the writer was suffering at the moment. Its characteristic is neatness. It is in the fine old-fashioned Italian hand. Even an expert, who sees possibilities—when paid for it—in handwriting which would never occur to less imaginative observers, would scarcely venture to say that this neat little document was written by a man with another's sword at his throat.

This is another element in the mystery of the duel, and it cannot be said that when we read the letter which the elder of the brothers wrote to his uncle, giving his account of the whole business, we feel ourselves in a clearer atmosphere. It really seems a pity that Mr. Browning did not make another Ring and the Book series of studies out of this amazing duel. Charles Sheridan told his uncle that an apology was given to Richard by Mathews as a result of Richard's first visit to him in London, but when Richard read the advertisement in the Chronicle, which was the original casus belli, he considered this apology so inadequate that he set off for London to demand another. Charles also mentions, what neither his brother nor his sister had stated, that he himself, on reaching London on the Sunday evening, went to Mathews to endeavour to get a suitable apology—according to Richard's narrative Charles had good grounds for sending a challenge to Mathews on his own account—but “after two hours' altercation” he found that he had made no impression upon the man, so that his brother had no alternative but to call him out.

But however the accounts of the lesser details of this affair of honour may differ, there can be no question that public opinion in Bath was all in favour of young Mr. Sheridan. It was acknowledged on every hand that he had acted from the first—that is, from the moment he assumed the duties of the protector of Miss Linley—with admirable courage, and with a full sense of what honour demanded of him. In short he came back from London, after so many sleepless nights, covered with glory. He was a tall, handsome fellow of twenty, with brilliant eyes; he had run away with the most beautiful girl in the world to save her from the clutches of a scoundrel; he had had four nights without sleep, and then he had fought a duel with the scoundrel and had obtained from him an apology for insertion in the newspapers. Few young gentlemen starting life wholly without means attain to so proud a position of achievement before they reach their majority.

But of course all these feats of errantry and arms run up a bill. Young Mr. Sheridan's posting account must have been by itself pretty formidable, and, knowing that his father had never looked on him with the favour which he gave to his brother, Richard may now and again have felt a trifle uneasy at the prospect of meeting Mr. Sheridan. If his sister's memory is to be trusted, however, this meeting took place within a week or two of his duel, and no bones were broken. Mr. Sheridan had a few chiding words to say respecting the debts which his son had incurred, but these he paid, after obtaining from the boy the usual promise made under similar conditions before a like tribunal. The prodigal invariably acts up to his character for prodigality in the matter of promises of reform.

Richard Sheridan, being something of a wit, though we do not get many examples of his faculty in the accounts extant of his early life, and assuredly not a single example in any of his letters that came into the hands of his biographers, may have sworn to his father never to run away with a girl who might be anxious to enter upon a conventual life. At any rate, his father did not show any great displeasure when he was made aware of the boy's conduct, though it is worth noting that Mr. Sheridan took exception to the general conviction that his son's act had been prompted by the most chivalrous aspirations.