Curiosities of Impecuniosity. H. G. Somerville
came he objected to his make of the boot for the other foot. Each bootmaker took a boot back to be stretched. When the dupes called next day, each displaying a boot, they found that Sheridan had departed in the fellow pieces of their property.
Later in life his difficulties became chronic, but his ingenuity was generally equal to them. Having arranged to give a banquet to the leaders of the Opposition, he found himself on the morning of the event without port or sherry, his wine-merchant having positively refused to supply any more without payment. In this dilemma he sent for Chalier, and told him he wished to settle his account. The wine-merchant, much delighted, proposed running home for it, when Sheridan stopped him with “What do you say to dining with me to-day? Lord This, and Sir So-and-so That” (mentioning several celebrities), “will be here.” The offer was accepted with enthusiasm, the merchant leaving his office early in order to dress for the occasion. As soon as he made his appearance Sheridan despatched a messenger to the clerk at the office, to the effect that Mr. Chalier desired so many dozen of different kinds of wine sent at once, which instructions were promptly executed, the Burgundy, hock, &c., &c. arriving just in time for the dinner.
One Friday evening at Drury Lane, just after the half-price money had been taken, Sheridan was informed by his treasurer that unless a certain amount could be raised there was not sufficient to pay the salaries of even the subordinates, and the house would have to close the following Monday. After making certain suggestions which were voted useless by his business-man, Sherry took a look at the meagrely-filled house, and calling a servant, said to him, “You see that stout, goodtempered-looking man in such and such a box?” “Yes, sir.” “Immediately the act-drop is down go to him; have a boy who can bow gracefully precede you with a pair of wax candles. Open the box-door, and in a voice loud enough to be heard by everyone, say, ‘Mr. Sheridan requests the pleasure of a private interview with you, sir.’ Treat him with the greatest attention, and see that a bottle of the best port and a couple of wine-glasses are placed in my study.” These directions were all carried out, and when the manager was alone with his visitor, after expressing the great pleasure he always experienced in seeing any one from Staffordshire, he said, “I think you told me you came to London twice a year.” “Yes,” was the reply, “January and June, to receive my dividends. I have been to the bank to-day and got my £600.” “Ah you are in Consols, whilst I, alas, am Reduced and can get nothing till April, when you know the interest is paid, and till then I shall be in great distress.” “Oh,” said his constituent, “let not that make you uneasy; if you give me the power of attorney to receive the money for you, I can let you have £300, which I shall not want till then.” “Only a real friend,” said Sheridan, “could have made such a proposition.” The £300 duly changed hands, and when April came the power of attorney was handed to Sheridan to sign, “I never spoke of Consols in Reduced,” said he, “I only spoke of my Consols being reduced. Unhappy is the man who cannot understand the weight of prepositions.” The Stafford man went to Sheridan in a fearful rage, but the latter was as cool as a cucumber. He made a clean breast of it, and told all. “But,” he said, “my dear sir, I am now commanded to go to the Prince Regent, to whom I shall narrate your noble conduct. My carriage is waiting, and I can take you to Carlton House.” The creditor was delighted. He shook Sherry by the hand, exclaiming, “I forgive you, never mention the debt again,” to which Sheridan readily assented, and we may be sure kept his word for once. The carriage came, into which both entered, but when it arrived at Carlton House Sheridan alighted, closed the door, and told the coachman to drive the gentleman to his hotel. The Stafford man expostulated that he understood he was going into Carlton House, when Sheridan calmly told him, “That’s another mistake of yours,” and of course, though his statement inferred as much, he only said he would take his constituent to Carlton House. It goes without saying that at the next election the Staffordshire elector voted on the other side.
There is no doubt that at last Sheridan was so desperately involved that his life became, “not to put too fine a point on it,” that of a schemer. He lived in an atmosphere of duns, but such a thorough master was he of the subject that it was the tradesmen who eventually were “done” by him. It was customary for them to assemble early in the morning to catch him before he went out, and when informed “Mr. Sheridan is not down yet, sir,” they were shown into the rooms on each side of the entrance-hall. When he had finished his breakfast he would say, “Are those doors all shut, John?” and on being informed that they were, would deliberately walk out as pleased as though he had obtained a great moral victory.
CHAPTER II.
IMPECUNIOSITY OF THE GREAT.
It must be admitted that impecuniosity is impartial, the peer and the peasant being equally open to its visits, and the Sovereign, under certain conditions, as liable to its influence as the subject. Edward the Third was compelled to pawn his jewels, and his imperial crown three times, once abroad, and twice to Sir John Wosenham, his banker, in whose custody the crown remained eight years. Henry the Fifth was also under the necessity of pawning his crown and the silver table and stools which he had from Spain. The Black Prince made the same use of his plate, and Queen Elizabeth was obliged to part with some of her jewels.
More than two centuries ago when Clerkenwell was a sort of Court quarter of London, and could boast amongst other distinguished residents the Duke and Duchess of Newcastle, this couple, both of whom are remembered by their literary eccentricities, had more than once to patronise the pawnbroker. The duke, who was a devoted Royalist, after his defeat at Marston Moor, retired with his wife to the Continent, and with many privations owing to pecuniary embarrassments suffered an exile of eighteen years, chiefly in Antwerp, in a house which belonged to the widow of Rubens.
Many of our most illustrious families have been indebted to the exertions or the genius of some humble ancestor. The case of Charles Abbot, afterwards Lord Tenterden, is a typical one. He was the son of a Canterbury barber, and at the age of seven was admitted on the foundation of the King’s School in that town, where he soon attracted attention by his industry and intelligence. At an early age he much wished to become a chorister, and was so disappointed when he failed that in after years, when visiting the Cathedral with Mr. Justice Richards, who commended the voice of a singer in the choir, his lordship exclaimed, “Ah, that is the only man I ever envied. When at school in this town, we were candidates for a chorister’s place and he obtained it.” When seventeen, there was no prospect for the clever youth but the drudgery of trade, and on this becoming known in the school there was a general wish expressed that his perseverance and ability should be rewarded. To private generosity he was indebted for his outfit, the trustees conferring a small exhibition upon him, and adding a pittance which enabled him to live, with rigid economy, until he took his B.A. degree. When asked by Mr. Lamont, the father of the lady to whom he was engaged, what means he had to maintain a wife, he replied, “The books in this room and two pupils in the next.”
Sir Peter Laurie, when Lord Mayor of London, said at a dinner given to the judges: “What a country is this we live in! In other parts of the world there is no chance except for men of high birth and aristocratic connections, but here genius and industry are sure to be rewarded. You see before you the example of myself, the chief magistrate of the metropolis of this great empire, with the Chief Justice of England sitting at my right hand, both now in the highest offices of the State, and both sprung from the very dregs of the people.” There are many men who would have been anything but pleased at this reference to their humble extraction; but it was not distasteful to his lordship.
Macready, in recounting a visit to Canterbury Cathedral, says he was shown by the verger the spot where a little shop once stood, and was informed that when Lord Tenterden last visited the Cathedral, he said to his son, “Charles, you see this little shop. I have brought you here on purpose to show it you. In that shop your grandfather used to shave for a penny. That is the proudest reflection of my life. While you live never forget that, my dear Charles,” an injunction which, coming from a Chief Justice of England who died worth £120,000, ought to have a salutary effect on upstarts.
The equally famous Lord Erskine, though