It was at the house of the beautiful, lively, and adventurous Duchess of Devonshire, the partizan of Charles James Fox, who loved him or his cause—­for Fox and Liberalism were often one in ladies’ eyes—­so well, that she could give Steele, the butcher, a kiss for his vote, that Sheridan first met the prince—­then a boy in years, but already more than an adult in vice.  No doubt the youth whom Fox, Brummell, Hanger, Lord Surrey, Sheridan, the tailors and the women, combined to turn at once into the finest gentleman and greatest blackguard in Europe, was at that time as fascinating in appearance and manner as any one, prince or not, could be.  He was by far the handsomest of the Hanoverians, and had the least amount of their sheepish look.  He possessed all their taste and capacity, for gallantry, with apparently none of the German coarseness which certain other Princes of Wales exhibited in their amorous address. His coarseness was of a more sensual, but less imperious kind.  He had his redeeming points, which few of his ancestors had, and his liberal hand and warm heart won him friends, where his conduct could win him little else than contempt.  Sheridan was introduced to him by Fox, and Mrs. Sheridan by the Duchess of Devonshire.  The prince had that which always takes with Englishmen—­a readiness of conviviality, and a recklessness of character.  He was ready to chat, drink, and bet with Sheridan, or any new comer equally well recommended, and an introduction to young George was always followed by an easy recognition.  With all this he managed to keep up a certain amount of royal dignity under the most trying circumstances, but he had none of that easy grace which made Charles II. beloved by his associates.  When the George had gone too far, he had no resource but to cut the individual with whom he had hobbed and nobbed, and he was as ungrateful in his enmities as he was ready with his friendship.  Brummell had taught him to dress, and Sheridan had given him wiser counsels:  he quarrelled with both for trifles, which, if he had had real dignity, would never have occurred, and if he had had real friendship, would easily have been overlooked.

Sheridan’s breach with the prince was honourable to him.  He could not wholly approve of the conduct of that personage and his ministers, and he told him openly that his life was at his service, but his character was the property of the country.  The prince replied that Sheridan ’might impeach his ministers on the morrow—­that would not impair their friendship;’ yet turned on his heel, and was never his friend again.  When, again, the ‘delicate investigation’ came off, he sent for Sheridan, and asked his aid.  The latter replied, ’Your royal highness honours me, but I will never take part against a woman, whether she be right or wrong.’  His political courage atones somewhat for the want of moral courage he displayed in pandering to the prince’s vices.

Many an anecdote is told of Sheridan and ’Wales’—­many, indeed, that cannot be repeated.  Their bets were often of the coarsest nature, won by Sheridan in the coarsest manner.  A great intimacy sprang up between the two reprobates, and Sheridan became one of the satellites of that dissolute prince.  There are few of the stories of their adventures which can be told in a work like this, but we may give one or two specimens of the less disgraceful character:—­