179 RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. ONE morning, in the year fifty-seven, | opportunities of judging;--what the or thereabouts, of the last century, a affirmation may be worth the present lady waited upon a respectable school-writer will not undertake to say. Kindly master, just commencing practice in reader, bethink thee, how learned blockDublin, for the purpose of placing under his charge two of her sons, who were rapidly growing out of nursery control. Entering graciously into conversation with the inexperienced Dominie, she ventured to impress upon him how needful a thing was patience, in the profession which he had perhaps inconsiderately undertaken. "These boys," said she, "will require a good deal of it. Hitherto I have been their only instructor, and they have sufficiently exercised mine; for two such impenetrable dunces I declare I never met with." One of the youngsters, thus contemptuously introduced, was RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN; afterwards the brilliant and witty dramatist and politician whom we all know, and whose memory not a few of us delight to honour. He was scarcely at this period seven years of age; a boisterous, impetuous fellow, whose aversion to useful knowledge was probably the counterpart of a lively disposition. Utterly stupid we cannot conceive him to have been; but only indifferent to the popular hornbooks of the day, whose select narratives of good and naughty boys might seem to inculcate a too severe morality. What progress he made under Dominie Whyte's training, neither authentic chronicle nor tradition has been careful to inform us. The perplexities he encountered and overcame, the difficulties that were too hard for him, the birchings he underwent, the practical jests and whimsicalities he perpetrated-the whole mingled tragedy and comedy and farce, which made up the drama of his schooldays, went out of recollection for ever with the extinguished memories of the boys that were at school with him. About the year 1762, father Sheridan, for reasons of his own, packed up his household and settled his family in England. Harrow was then selected as the school considered most suitable for advancing Brinsley's education. The reputation of dulness still clings to him; he exhibited as yet none of those superior qualifications for which he was afterwards illustrious. So at least it has been affirmed by those who had headism is apt to draw its inferences respecting genius, of which it has in itself no forecast or apprehension, and doubt not that the grave authorities were in this case mistaken. One can admit Dr. Parr's competency to report of Sheridan's deficiency in regard to those "studies which were the pride of Harrow seminary;" but of his ability to understand the character of his pupil's capabilities one can hardly entertain so confident an opinion. The Doctor, however, observes that "He was a favourite among his schoolfellows, mischievous, and his pranks were accompanied by a Sort of vivacity and cheerfulness; he was a great reader of English poetry, but was careless about literary fame." In after life, indeed, when Sheridan had given proof of superior talents, the Doctor could remember that he had at one time been addicted to classical reading, and was "well acquainted with the orations of Cicero and Demosthenes," and had even impressed him with the notion that "his classical attainments were considerable." 66 During his residence at Harrow, Sheridan learnt his first lesson in the significance of sorrow." He had to lament the loss of his mother, who died, at Blois, in 1766. The wild reckless nature of the boy was for a while subdued and softened by the mournful thoughts which this sad event awakened. With bowed dejected head he shunned converse with his gay companions, and sounded the awful depths which till now lay unrevealed within him. Time, how ever, brought back the olden cheerfulness. Bright sanative season of blessed youth, how it soon dries up with its joyful sunshine the dreary fountainsprings of grief, and repaireth the ruins of its habitation with the flowers that grow spontaneously in its path! We shortly find Sheridan assisting a fellow pupil in the composition of a farce; from which they expected to realize a sum of not less than £200. Fortune, however, seldom grants her bounties to that extent, to striplings; and this golden expectation was destined to be suddenly cut off. Other schemes were trarch; Mr. Pliny Melmoth, "thinking nobody half so considerable as himself, and therefore playing primary violin without further ceremony;" Cumberland, "the querulous, the dissatisfied, determined to like nobody and nothing except Cumberland;" Dr. Harrington, projected; a miscellany in the manner of the British Essayists, which did not proceed beyond the first number; a translation of Aristænatus, an obscure Greek author, into English verse, which was published but did not sell; occasional poems, tales of love and wonder, and other general medley of authorship," dry, comic, and agreeable;" and a enthusiastically undertaken but never whole host besides of magnificent obfinished. Of the translation of Aris- scure mortals, who had the luck to be tænatus a certain reviewer of the period celebrated in their day, but whose mecandidly remarks, "We have been idly mory has now gone to that bourne whence employed in reading it;" and adds, un- no memory returns. All these, in their graciously, "Our readers will in pro- several degree, fluttered and danced atportion lose their time in perusing this tendance at the court of a certain allearticle." It is clear, nevertheless, from gorical-fantastic-fashionable Queen of these several crude performances, that Sheridan is beginning to carc a little about "literary fame;" from the bleak Pisgah of popular indifference he is looking down over the confused valley of Literature; and though the scouts which he has sent forth bring him but unfavourable tidings, he does not abate one tittle of his faith that it is a land flowing with milk and honey. Bath-one Lady Miller, admirably described by Horace Walpole and Madame D'Arblay, and living in barbaric splendour at Bath Easton, where she held every Thursday a wonderful and brilliant entertainment, poetically styled a "fair of Parnassus." In London it seems Bath Easton was much reviled and laughed at; but Madame D'Arblay asserts that nothing was here " more tonnish than to visit Lady Miller, who is extremely curious in her company, admitting few people who are not of rank or fame, and excluding all who are not people of very unblemished character." Horace Walpole says, it was the practice of "all the flux of quality" to contend for prizes gained for rhymes and themes. "A Roman vase, dressed with pink ribbons and myrtle, received the poetry contributed, which was drawn out at every festival. Six judges of these Olympic games retired and selected the brightest composition, which was rewarded by permission for the author to kneel and kiss the hands of Lady Miller, who crowned the victor with myrtle." Flimsy foolish mortals! heard ye never how poor men toil and spin in this weary workshop of a world, that ye could find no worthier pastime than even this? Pitiful truly, and empty beyond conception, must have been all that paltry worship and apotheosis of vanity. After leaving Harrow, Sheridan spent for some time rather a gay life at Bath, where his father, a distinguished actor and teacher of elocution, had fixed his family while he pursued his engagements elsewhere. In the idleness and dissipation of the place the young man readily participated. Of a lively social sensitiveness, he rapidly makes acquaintance with many men and women of consideration, of rank, of even questionable reputation; sees into the splendour and insipidity of fashionable circles; captivates young maidens by his lively brilliant talk; and makes a laughing-stock of elder ones by his witty and ingenious sarcasm. Any day in the year he might be seen lounging about the Crescent, the Circus, or the Parades; in the Pump-room, at concerts, at private parties, at the theatre; living a very butterfly's existence, and draining the cup of pleasure to the very dregs of weariness. Among the illustrious people whom Bath society included, was the respectable Hannah More, Nevertheless, one can well enough pious, and clever, and insipid; Mrs. understand that to any one in the midst Thrale, the lively and the rain, who of it, it might seem not altogether decould relate personal anecdotes of Dr. ficient in elegance and grace. For Johnson; Fanny and Harriet Bowdler, though Dame Miller turns out on near blue-stockings both, of very deep com- inspection to have been only a coarse plexion; Anstey, the author of the plump-looking vulgar personage, "aim"Bath Guide," "with an air, look, and ing to appear a woman of fashion, and manner, mighty heavy and unfavoura- succeeding only in having the appearble;" Mrs. Dobson, who translated Pe-ance of an ordinary person in common named Halhed, Sheridan's former part life with fine clothes on,"-still she was an undoubted and acknowledged Queen ner in translation; also Sheridan's of Fashion, and could dispense favours and distinctions not elsewhere attainable in Bath. Her bustling manners and mock important air, her wondrous condescension and good humour, were things of great attraction for the time; and gave her the power of making fashionable whomsoever she was pleased to honour. Sheridan, scarcely in his twentieth year, earned among the rest an occasional wreath of myrtle. Many of his compositions, written chiefly to this end, or celebrating some local event or topic, remain unto this day. They are for the most part good for nothing; unless it be to show us how a clever man could cleverly waste his time. Take, for example, a few lines from a satirical poem, written on the opening of the Upper Assembly Rooms, September 30, 1771. It is entitled, "An Epistle from Timothy Screw to his brother Henry, waiter at Almack's." round one; Two rooms were first opened-the long and the (These hogstyegon names only serve to confound one.) brother Charles; Norris, a singer, "who was supposed to have sung himself into the lady's secret affections;" Mr. Watts, a gentleman commoner of Oxford; Mr. Long, a man of fortune; Sir Thomas Clarges, and "several others known to fame;" Captain Matthews, a married man, a person of large property in Wales, and gentleman by courtesy; besides "every student at Oxford," who were severally and simultaneously "enchanted when she sang at the ora torios!" Every other day there was a rumour that Miss Linley had " gone off" with this or the other suitor; which report was as regularly contradicted by the assurances of those who knew that she had done nothing of the kind. One morning, however, the rumour proved to be a fact. She had actually eloped. Not, indeed, with any of the gentry known most prominently as her admirers, but with Richard Brinsley Sheridan, who had silently and unsuspiciously succeeded in winning her to himself, while some of his friends thought him only using his influence to forward their own pretensions! In Bath there was no little rage and consternation; public curiosity was suffi ciently busy and entertained; public and private scandal did not fail; jilted lovers felt themselves jockied beyond There are a few sentimental pieces, but redemption. One jilted lover in partithey are scarcely more poetical than the cular, namely, the aforesaid Captain above; as how, indeed, could they be Matthews-married man, a person of -produced under such absurd circum-large property in Wales, and therefore stances? Both splendidly lit with the new chandeliers, ears; While jewels of paste reflected the rays, So that it was doubtful to view the bright clusters, lustres. gentleman by courtesy-even made a Bath was at this period highly dis- public demonstration by advertisement tinguished for its music. The public in the Bath Chronicle; wherein he states concerts held there are said to have been that Mr. Richard Sheridan had left the best in England; though the private behind him a letter "to account for his ones were thought detestable, notwith- scandalous method of running away standing the "first-rate talent, and the from the place, by insinuations deromany amateurs of high consideration gatory to his (Matthews's) character, that were engaged in them. Among and that of a young lady innocent as the most memorable of all the singers far as relates to him or to his knowof the day, and not to be forgotten for ledge;" which statement, owing to many a year to come, was Miss Linley, gramatical peculiarities has rather the daughter of an eminent musical bewildered the present writer, and will composer. She, singing according to likely enough leave most readers in her vocation, in the "ancient city of King doubt as to what might be the adverBludud," turned the heads of nearly all tiser's meaning. From other docuthe gentlemen of the place, and inno-ments since published, however, it cently drove many a married lady to appears that Miss Linley had been inthe verge of jealousy. The catalogue duced to elope with Sheridan, princiof her lovers is almost as long as the pally to avoid certain scandalous adpension list. There was a gentleman vances which Matthews had been for some time making towards her; and in Hyde Park, described as a "most that in revenge for the repulses he had ridiculous rencontre, ending in nothing." received, he was prepared to sacrifice Retiring for fear of observation to a the young lady's reputation. Sheridan coffee-house, a scuffle there took place had adroitly insinuated himself into by which Sheridan, " at the point of the his rival's confidence; seen what tem- sword," obtained from Matthews the per and disposition he was of; watched demanded apology. The gentleman by the progress of affairs to a crisis, and courtesy retracted what he had said, and then struck in at the right moment with begged pardon for the advertisement in frank and honourable proposals. All the Chronicle. Retiring afterwards to accounts acquit Miss Linley of any Wales, he, according to Moore's relation serious indiscretion; but as uniformly of the story, found himself received with agree in representing her as a coquette great coolness by the gentry of his disof the first magnitude. It was the trict; whereupon another duel was de fault of her position, perhaps, more than termined on, at the instigation of a Mr. anything besides; as a public singer Barnett, whose propensities for particishe was liable to dishonourable propo-pating in such affairs are understood to sitions, which however much she might have been rather more violent than disdain, she could not readily avoid wise. Another meeting took place, as being made to her. A long letter, of ridiculous as the first; and was sucsomewhat doubtful authenticity, very ceeded by representations on both sides much in the style of the Clarissa Har- so utterly contradictory and inconlowe correspondence, was written pro-gruous, as to render it impossible for fessedly by Miss Linley after the elopement, and still exists: whereby it is apparent that her intercourse with Matthews had been extremely foolish and imprudent; but it affords no warranty for further allegations. Sheridan himself seems to have been always satisfied of her substantial innocence; and her entire affection for him has seldom been called in question. At any rate the two had agreed to wed; and they were accordingly married at a village in the neighbourhood of Calais. For some time, however, the marriage was kept secret, and the lady meantime retired into a convent, until Sheridan should be able to claim her publicly as his wife. Father Linley, scarcely knowing what to understand by the affair, went speedily after the fugitives to France; where, after an explanation with Sheridan, it was resolved that the engagement should be fulfilled, and the parties very shortly returned to England. After their arrival, a series of proceedings ensued, of the most ludicrous, romantic and absurd description. Young Sheridan, incensed by the accusations and abusive threats which Matthews, the gentleman by courtesy, had been making in his absence, declared he would not sleep until he had obtained an ample and just apology, or otherwise received such satisfaction as by law of honour gentlemen, in such circumstances, are bound to render to each other. There was accordingly a duel 66 con any one to form a just conclusion about Immediately after the public announcement of their marriage, Sheridan and his wife lived for a short time in retirement at East Burnham, and it was soon generally understood that the lady had retired from her profession. She had property, it appears, to the amount of £3000, obtained under somewhat singular circumstances. One of her former suitors, the before-mentioned Mr. Long, "a man of large fortune," who had honourably solicited her hand in wedlock, and apparently received some encouragement, but being ultimately informed by her that she could never give him her affections, had thereupon, with wondrous magnanimity, not only resigned himself to his disappointment, but even undertaken the responsibility of breaking off the match, and actually paid the sum mentioned as an indemnity for the breach of covenant. Poor insapient Mr. Long! who would have thought it possible for mortal man to suffer himself to be so preposterously victimized? One cannot like this Mrs. Sheridan, after all, notwithstanding all her reputed beauty and accomplish ments. Here, however, were ample means for commencing housekeeping. For the rest, Sheridan proposed to rely upon his personal intellectual resources; and was ere long, engaged in the composition of a comedy. In the third year of his marriage, and twenty-fourth of his age, namely, in January, 1775, the well-known "Rivals was brought out on the boards of Covent Garden, and on the first night of representation was pronounced to be a failure. Sheridan was of course sadly disconcerted; his fond anticipations of success grievously marred and well nigh overthrown. The unfavourable reception was attributed to the unusual length of the piece, and to the indifferent acting of certain of the players. The next night, however, owing to an important change in the representation of the characters, the performance was much better received, and continued for several nights afterwards to be acted with increasing success. Gradually Sheridan found himself standing high in public estimation. His play was produced in the provinces with much enthusiasm; and at Bath, especially, it occasioned a sensation which yielded the author the greatest possible contentment. Fortune's entertainments, it would seem there is always something to dash one's satisfaction. But now, what shall a generous dramatist do for the clever and assiduous actor, who, to all appearance, turned the fate of his comedy? What better than write another play for his especial advantage? Accordingly, "for the benefit of Mr. Clinch," the humorous farce of "St. Patrick's Day, or the Scheming Lieutenant," was brought out successfully in the following May. It is far inferior both in pretension and execution to the "Rivals," but appears to have served the purpose for which it was written. By the middle of November Sheridan was ready with an Opera, the "Duenna," which immediately became a favourite with the public. It enjoyed at the outset a much longer career of approbation than even the famous "Beggar's Opera," which had hitherto been looked upon as the most successful drama of its class ever placed upon the stage. Three successful plays in one year cannot be considered bad work; Sheridan had reason to be thankful to his stars as well as to his genius. One would be glad to see a little more of his household life, but cannot so much as ascertain whether he has gained even any apprehension of the nature of curtain lectures. Nay, it is matter of mere conjecture where he He had made a brilliant beginning; lives-whether in London, or at Bath, had successfully invaded the promised or in the wilderness of Timbuctooland; henceforth the kingdom of re- only that he emerges occasionally into nown seemed open for his occupation. daylight, or, more properly, into lampOnce during the popularity of the light, in connection with the theatres. "Rivals," Sheridan's father, who had We gather, however, from printed statefor some years been estranged from ments, that towards the close of this him, and obstinately refused a recon- same year (1775) of Sheridan's sudden ciliation, hearing much of his son's popularity, the theatrical circles in Lonplay, went to the theatre, accompanied don were much surprised, and not a by his daughters, to see it for himself, little concerned, by a rumour that David and pass judgment on its merits. The Garrick was about to relinquish the son was sitting at the side scene oppo- management of the theatre in Drury site to his parent, and "continued Lane. He had enjoyed a long and throughout the performance to gaze at prosperous career, and now, at the age him with tenderness and affection." of sixty, seemed disposed to retire into Old Sheridan, notwithstanding, re- the chimney corner of contemplative mained for the present immovable; no life, and there adjust himself as quietly reconciliation was accomplished. On as might be practicable. All the theareturning home Brinsley was over-trical world inquired who was likely to powered with emotion, and in reply to his wife's inquiries, observed that he was very much distressed that his father and sisters should sit before him, and he be unable to join them. Thus, at the brightest and most agreeable of be his successor? Many persons would wish to be, but it turns out eventually that Sheridan is the man. In the month of June, in the next year, a contract was entered into by which Sheridan and responsible friends of |