|
Main
- books.jibble.org
My Books
- IRC Hacks
Misc. Articles
- Meaning of Jibble
- M4 Su Doku
- Computer Scrapbooking
- Setting up Java
- Bootable Java
- Cookies in Java
- Dynamic Graphs
- Social Shakespeare
External Links
- Paul Mutton
- Jibble Photo Gallery
- Jibble Forums
- Google Landmarks
- Jibble Shop
- Free Books
- Intershot Ltd
|
books.jibble.org
Previous Page
| Next Page
Page 41
In August of the same year she writes again. "Sheridan call'd in the
morning and found out that I was alone, and told me he would dine with
me. I thought, of course, he was in joke, but, _point du tout_, he
arriv'd at dinner, dined, and stayed the whole evening. He was very
pleasant, but--it was not you, and the seeing anybody only increas'd
my regrets, which I suppose were pretty visible, for every five
minutes he kept saying: 'How I am wasting all my efforts to entertain
you, while you are grieving that you cannot change me into _Lord
Leveson_. You would not be so grim if he was beaming on you.' At
length, as I thought he was preparing to pass the night as well as the
evening with me, and as he began to make some fine speeches I did not
quite approve of, I order'd my Chair, to get rid of him. This did
not succeed, for as I had no place to go to, he follow'd me about to
Anne's and Lady D----'s, where I knew I should not be let in, and home
again. But, luckily, I got in time enough to order every one to be
denied, and ran upstairs, while I heard him expostulating with the
porter...." It does not appear, from this narrative, that the hunted
fair was seriously annoyed at being hunted, and the implication of
Lord Granville in the unpleasant business is patent. Next year she has
asked her persecutor to help Antinous at his election, for his reply,
beginning "Dear Traitress," is given here.
After that, peace or silence, until 1802, when Sheridan changed his
tactics.
"The opera was beautiful.... The Prince paid us two visits,
but our chief company were Hare, Grey, and Sheridan, the
latter persecuting me in every pause of the music and
telling me he knew such things of you, could give me such
incontrovertible proofs of your falsehood, and not only
falsehood but treachery to me, that if I had one grain of
pride or spirit left I should fly you. And guess what I
answered, you who call me jealous. I told him I had such
entire reliance on your faith, such confidence in your truth,
that I should doubt my own eyes if they witness'd against your
word. He pitied me, and said: 'How are the mighty fallen,' and
then went on telling me things without end to drive me mad."
That was in March. In August she writes, actually under siege:
"Here I am quite alone in C. Square ... no carriage to watch
for, no rap at the door ... and alas! no chance of hearing
your step upon the stair.... Whilst I was regretting all this,
suddenly, the knock did come, to my utter astonishment. I ran
to the stair, and in a moment heard Sheridan's voice. I do
not know why, but I took a horror of seeing him, and hurried
Sally down to say I was out. I heard him answer: 'Tell her I
call'd twice this morning, and want particularly to see her,
for I know she is at home.' Sally protested I was out, and S.
answered: 'Then I shall walk up and down before the door till
she comes in,' and there he is walking sure enough. It is
partly all the nonsense he talk'd all this year, and the
hating to see any one when I cannot see you, that makes me
dislike letting him in so much."
He solemnly did sentry-go for nearly an hour, she goes on to say. In
that hour he was in his fifty-first year, she in her fortieth.
If she revealed these sorry doings to Antinous with the view of
fanning embers, she did not succeed in drawing more than a languid
protest from him. "As to Sheridan, in the morning I purposely staid
in my room till the time of our setting out, and only saw him as I was
getting into the carriage, so had nothing more to tell.... You say I
am not angry enough. I am provok'd, vex'd, and asham'd. To feel more
deeply I must care for the person who offends me...." I cannot myself
read either vexation or shame in her reports. Provocation I can and do
read--but it is not she who is provoked.
In 1804, Antinous in Petersburg, there are new antics to record. "You
will think I live at the play; I am just return'd from Drury Lane....
Sheridan persists in coming every night to us. He says one word to my
sister; then retires to the further corner of the box, where with
arms across, deep and audible sighs, and sometimes _tears_! he remains
without uttering and motionless, with his eyes fix'd on me in the most
marked and distressing manner, during the whole time we stay. To-night
he followed us in before the play begun, and remained as I tell you
thro' the play and farce. As we were going I dropped my shawl
and muff; he picked them up and with a look of ludicrous humility
presented them to Mr. Hill to give me." And this was the author of
_The School for Scandal_.
Next year, being that of Trafalgar, and Sheridan's fifty-fourth, he
began a course of persecution which definitely marks an access of
dementia. The affair took an acute turn suddenly, and I don't intend
to say more about it than that it took the form of anonymous and
obscene letters, some of them addressed to Lady Bessborough's
daughter, Caroline, then a child, some to herself, some to the
children of the Duchess of Devonshire. The letters, which continued
throughout the year, were signed with the names of friends--a Mr.
Hill, J.W. Ward, and others. Some were sent out signed with her name.
The editor of the correspondence says that "Lady Bessborough was
subsequently convinced by evidence which appeared to her conclusive
that Sheridan was the writer." There can be no doubt of that whatever,
and as all the detail is in the published correspondence, little
more need be said. The wooden Antinous, in Petersburg, for his sole
comment, writes as follows: "I learn with sorrow that you are still
subjected to vexations from anonymous letters, etc. I suppose that
Sheridan is the author, though one would have imagined that, however
depraved his morals, and however malignant might be his mind, he would
have had _good taste_ enough not to have resorted to such a species of
vengeance." And that was all the fire to be blown into Antinous. "Good
taste" in the circumstances is comic.
Previous Page
| Next Page
|
|