equalled even among women, to the soothing and lightening of her last painful moments. From the letters written by this lady at the time, some extracts have lately been given by Miss Lefanu in her interesting Memoirs of her grandmother, Mrs. Frances Sheridan. But their whole contents are so important to the characters of the persons concerned, and so delicately draw aside the veil from a scene of which sorrow and affection were the only witnesses, that I feel myself justified not only in repeating what has already been quoted, but in adding a few more valuable particulars, which, by the kindness of the writer and her correspondent, I am enabled to give from the same authentic source. The letters are addressed to Mrs. H. Lefanu, the second sister of Mr. Sheridan.

*

"Bristol, June, 1. 1792.

*

"I am happy to have it in my power to give you any information on a subject so interesting to you, and to all that have the happiness of knowing dear Mrs. Sheridan; though I am sorry to add, it cannot be such as will relieve your anxiety, or abate your fears. The truth is, our poor friend is in a most precarious state of health, and quite given over by the faculty. Her physician here, who is esteemed very skilful in consumptive cases, assured me from the first that it was a lost case; but as your brother seemed unwilling to know the truth, he was not so explicit with him, and only represented her as being in a very critical situation. Poor man! he cannot bear to think her in danger himself, or that any one else should; though he is as attentive and watchful as if he expected every moment to be her last. It is impossible for any man to behave with greater tenderness, or to feel more on such an occasion, than he does.

"At times the dear creature suffers a great deal from weakness and want of rest. She is very patient under her sufferings, and perfectly resigned. She is well aware of her danger, and talks of dying with the greatest composure. I am sure it will give you and Mr. Lefanu pleasure to know that her mind is well prepared for any change that may happen, and that she derives every comfort from religion that a sincere Christian can look for.”

On the 28th of the same month Mrs. Sheridan died; and a letter from this lady, dated July 19th, thus touchingly describes her last

'The talents of this young lady are another proof of the sort of gavel-kind of genius allotted to the whole race of Sheridan. I find her very earliest poetical work, "The Sylphid Queen," thus spoken of in a letter from the second Mrs. Sheridan to her mother, Mrs. Lefanu :-" "I should have acknowledged your very welcome present immediately, had not Mr. Sheridan, on my telling him what it was, run off with it, and I have been in vain endeavouring to get it from him ever since. What little I did read of it, I admired particularly; but it will be much more gratifying to you and your daughter to hear that he read it with the greatest atten tion, and thought it showed a great deal of imagination."

moments. As a companion-picture to the close of Sheridan's own life, it completes a lesson of the transitoriness of this world, which might sadden the hearts of the beautiful and gifted, even in their most brilliant and triumphant hours. Far happier, however, in her death than he was, she had not only his affectionate voice to soothe her to the last, but she had one devoted friend, out of the many whom she had charmed and fascinated, to watch consolingly over her last struggle, and satisfy her as to the fate of the beloved objects which she left behind.

"July, 19, 1792.

"Our dear departed friend kept her bed only two days, and seemed to suffer less during that interval than for some time before. She was perfectly in her senses to the last moment, and talked with the greatest composure of her approaching dissolution; assuring us all that she had the most perfect confidence in the mercies of an all-powerful and merciful Being, from whom alone she could have derived the inward comfort and support she felt at that awful moment! She said, she had no fear of death, and that all her concern arose from the thoughts of leaving so many dear and tender ties, and of what they would suffer from her loss. Her own family were at Bath, and had spent one day with her, when she was tolerably well. Your poor brother now thought it proper to send for them, and to flatter them no longer. They immediately came :-it was the morning before she died. They were introduced one at a time at her bedside, and were prepared as much as possible for this sad scene. The women bore it very well, but all our feelings were awakened for her father. The interview between him and the dear angel was afflicting and heart-breaking to the greatest degree imaginable. I was afraid she would have sunk under the cruel agitation :--she said it was indeed too much for her. She gave some kind injunction to each of them, and said every thing she could to comfort them under this severe trial. They then parted, in the hope of seeing her again in the evening, but they never saw her more! Mr. Sheridan and I sat up all that night with her;-indeed he had done so for several nights before, and never left her one moment that could be avoided. About four o'clock in the morning we perceived an alarming change, and sent for her physician'. She said to

poor

1 This physician was Dr. Bain, then a very young man, whose friendship with Sheridan began by this mournful duty to his wife, and only ended with the performance of the same melancholy office for himself. As the writer of the above letters was not present during the interview which she describes between him and Mrs. Sheridan, there are a few slight errors in her account of what passed, the particulars of which, as related by Dr. Bain himself, are as follows:-On his arrival, she begged of Sheridan and her female friend to leave the room, and then, desiring him to lock the door after them, said, "You have never deceived me:-tell me truly, shall I live over this night." Dr. Bain immediately felt her pulse, and, finding that she was dying, answered, “I recommend you to take some laudanum;" upon which she replied, “I understand you:—then give it me."

Dr. Bain fully concurs with the writer of these letters in bearing testimony to

him, 'If you can relieve me, do it quickly;-if not, do not let me struggle, but give me some laudanum.' His answer was, 'Then I will give you some laudanum.' She desired to see Tom and Betty Tickell before she took it, of whom she took a most affecting leave! Your brother behaved most wonderfully, though his heart was breaking; and at times his feelings were so violent, that I feared he would have been quite ungovernable at the last. Yet he summoned up courage to kneel by the bedside, till he felt the last pulse of expiring excellence, and then withdrew. She died at five o'clock in the morning, 28th of June.

I hope, my dear Mrs. Lefanu, you will excuse my dwelling on this most agonising scene. I have a melancholy pleasure in so doing, and fancy it will not be disagreeable to you to hear all the particulars of an event so interesting, so afflicting, to all who knew the beloved creature! For my part, I never beheld such a scene-never suffered such a conflict -much as I have suffered on my own account. While I live, theremembrance of it and the dear lost object can never be effaced from my mind. "We remained ten days after the event took place at Bristol; and on the 7th instant Mr. Sheridan and Tom, accompanied by all her family (except Mrs. Linley), Mr. and Mrs. Leigh, Betty Tickell and myself, attended the dear remains 'to Wells, where we saw her laid beside her beloved sister in the Cathedral. The choir attended; and there was such a concourse of people of all sorts assembled on the occasion that we could hardly move along. Mr. Leigh read the service in a most affecting manner. Indeed the whole scene, as you may easily imagine, was awful and affecting to a very great degree; though the crowd certainly interrupted the solemnity very much, and, perhaps, happily for us abated somewhat of our feelings, which, had we been less observed, would not have been so easily kept down.

"The day after the sad scene was closed we separated, your brother chusing to be left by himself with Tom for a day or two. He afterwards joined us at Bath, where we spent a few days with our friends, the Leighs,

the tenderness and affection that Sheridan evinced on this occasion :-it was, he says, quite "the devotedness of a lover." The following note, addressed to him after the sad event was over, does honour alike to the writer and the receiver :— "MY DEAR SIR,

"I must request your acceptance of the inclosed for your professional attendance. For the kind and friendly attentions, which have accompanied your efforts, I must remain your debtor. The recollection of them will live in my mind with the memory of the dear lost object, whose sufferings you soothed, and whose heart was grateful for it.

'The following striking reflection, which I have found upon a scrap of paper, in Sheridan's hand-writing, was suggested, no doubt, by his feelings on this occasion :

"The loss of the breath from a beloved object, long suffering in pain and certainly to die, is not so great a privation as the last loss of her beautiful remains, if they remain so. The victory of the Grave is sharper than the Sting of Death. '

Last Saturday we took leave of them, and on Sunday we arrived at Isleworth, where, with much regret, I left your brother to his own melancholy reflections, with no other companions but his two children, in whom he seems at present entirely wrapped up. He suffered a great deal in returning the same road, and was most dreadfully agitated on his arrival at Isleworth. His grief is deep and sincere, and I am sure will be lasting. He is in very good spirits, and at times is even cheerful, but the moment he is left alone he feels all the anguish of sorrow and regret. The dear little girl is the greatest comfort to him:-he cannot bear to be a moment without her. She thrives amazingly, and is indeed a charming little creature. Tom behaves with constant and tender attention to his father: he laments his dear mother sincerely, and at the time was violently affected; but, at his age, the impressions of grief are not lasting; and his mind is naturally too lively and cheerful to dwell long on melancholy objects. He is in all respects truly amiable, and in many respects so like his dear, charming mother, that I am sure he will be ever dear to my heart. I expect to have the pleasure of seeing Mr. Sheridan again next week, when I hope to find him more composed than when I took leave of him last Sunday."

To the mention which is made, in this affecting letter, of the father of Mrs. Sheridan, whose destiny it had been to follow to the grave, within a few short years, so many of his accomplished children 1, I must add a few sentences more from another letter of the same lady, which, while they increase our interest in this amiable and ingenious man, bear testimony to Sheridan's attaching powers, and prove how affectionate he must have been to her who was gone, to be thus loved by the father to whom she was so dear :—

"Poor Mr. Linley has been here among us these two months. He is very much broke, but is still a very interesting and agreeable companion. I do not know any one more to be pitied than he is. It is evident that the recollection of past misfortunes preys on his mind 2, and he has no

In 1778 his eldest son Thomas was drowned, while amusing himself in a pleasure-boat at the seat of the Duke of Ancaster. The pretty lines of Mrs. Sheridan to his violin are well known. A few years after, Samuel, a lieutenant in the navy, was carried off by a fever. Miss Maria Linley died in 1785, and Mrs. Tickell in 1787.

I have erroneously stated, in a former part of this work, that Mr. William Linley is the only surviving branch of this family ;-there is another brother, Mr. Ozias Linley, still living.

2 In the Memoirs of Mrs. Crouch I find the following anecdote:-" Poor Mr. Linley! after the death of one of his sons, when seated at the harpsichord in Drury-Lane theatre, in order to accompany the vocal parts of an interesting little piece taken from Prior's Henry and Emma by Mr. Tickell, and excellently represented by Palmer and Miss Farren,-when the tutor of Henry, Mr. Aikin, gave an impressive description of a promising young man, in speaking of his pupil Henry, the feelings of Mr. Linley could not be suppressed. His tears fell fast-nor did he weep alone."

In the same work Mrs. Crouch is made to say that, after Miss Maria Linley

comfort in the surviving part of his family, they being all scattered abroad. Mr. Sheridan seems more his child than any one of his own, and I believe he likes being near him and his grand-children.”

Towards the autumn (as we learn from another letter of this lady) Mr. Sheridan endeavoured to form a domestic establishment for himself at Wanstead.

I

"Wanstead, October 22, 1792.

Your brother has taken a house in this village very near me, where he means to place his dear little girl, to be as much as possible under my protection. This was the dying request of my beloved friend; and the last effort of her mind and pen was made the day before she expired, to draw up a solemn promise for both of us to sign, to ensure the strict performance of this last awful injunction : so anxious was she to commit this dear treasure to my care, well knowing how impossible it would be for a father, situated as your brother is, to pay that constant attention to her which a daughter so particularly requires. * * * You may be assured I shall engage in the task with the greatest delight and alacrity: would to God that I were in the smallest degree qualified to supply the place of that angelic, all-accomplished mother, of whose tender care she has been so early deprived. All I can do for her, I will do; and if I can succeed so far as to give her early and steady principles of religion, and to form her mind to virtue, I shall think my time well employed, and shall feel myself happy in having fulfilled the first wish of her beloved mother's heart.

died, it was melancholy for her to sing to Mr. Linley, whose tears continually fell on the keys as he accompanied her; and if, in the course of her profession, she was obliged to practise a song, which he had been accustomed to hear his lost daughter sing, the similarity of their manners and their voices, which he had once remarked with pleasure, then affected him to such a degree, that he was frequently forced to quit the instrument, and walk about the room to recover his

composure.

There are some touching allusions to these last thoughts of Mrs. Sheridan, in an Elegy, written by her brother, Mr. William Linley, soon after the news of the sad event reached him in India :—

"Oh most beloved! my sister and my friend!

While kindred woes still breathe around thine urn,

Long with the tear of absence must I blend