after, when the player's son' had become the admiration of the proudest and fairest; and when a house, provided for the duchess herself at Bath, was left two months unoccupied, in consequence of the social attractions of Sheridan, which prevented a party then assembled at Chatsworth from separating. These are triumphs which, for the sake of all humbly born heirs of genius, deserve to be commemorated."

Immediately after his marriage, Sheridan removed with his wife to a small cottage at East Burnham, from which, in the ensuing winter, they changed into London lodgings. The year after, they took a house in Orchard-street, Portman-square; the furniture of which was supplied by the liberality and kindness of Mr. Linley. "During the summer of 1774, they passed some time at Mr. Canning's and at Lord Coventry's; but so little did these visits interfere with the literary industry of Sheridan, that he had not only at that time finished his play of the Rivals, but was on the point of sending a book to the press."

In the winter of this year the comedy of the Rivals was brought out. By Sheridan's account, in a letter to Mr. Linley, it was the work of but six weeks. This precipitancy, so little to be reconciled to the general caution of his writings, is to be accounted for by the fact, which he also mentions, that he wrote in consequence of a special invitation from Harris, the manager of Covent Garden. It is also illustrated by the event; the first reception of the play was not as favourable as might be inferred either from its merits or subsequent popularity. It is said to have been four hours in the acting; this, with other defects of minor moment, chilled its reception. The ready resource of the author was proved by the quick tact, and rapid dexterity, with which he corrected these faults. And, upon a second trial, it took that distinguished place as a stock-piece, which it has so long preserved in the British Drama.

The comedies of Sheridan are so well known-their place has been so long awarded by the public, and confirmed by the critic, that we can have no motive for entering, at any length, into the consideration of their merits. Their singularly felicitous union of simplicity and pointed elegance-the incessant play of wit-the fine and subtle edge, and sly malice of the satire, have been lauded in every form of critical eulogy. They exhibit, in the highest degree, all the genuine powers of Sheridan-the keen and watchful insight into the sources of human action and feeling, and the dexterous tact that seizes on the prominences of manner and character. Nor will this praise lose by the consideration, that, many of the characters, and chiefly in the Rivals, have in them the exaggerations of caricature. This is, in truth, the nature of satire. A little consideration shews, that to picture human absurdities, they must be enlarged and accumulated; the follies of life are, in the absurdest Character, few and far between, and lose themselves in the mass of common occurrences. Nor is it supposed that the satire is the representation of the man, but of the folly. It is an infirmity made graphic by investing it broadly in the features of humanity. Cowardice in a living man might excite disgust; in Bob Acres it amuses; and yet the humour of this laughable sketch is in its substantial truth; mere absurdity, without this, were dull. We shall have presently, to add a few further reflections on the subject of Sheridan's dramatic writing, when we come notice his more finished and elaborate effort, "The School for Scandal." We concur so entirely in the criticism which accompanies Mr. Moore's account of the Rivals, the history of which we have (it is just to say) partly stated from other authority, that we shall, for the benefit of our readers, extract it in a note.* From his authority we add, that the notoriety attendant on the

to

romantic history of Sheridan's recent adventures in "love and war 99 was heightened by the success of this comedy. His social powers the beauty and singular accomplishments of his wife, may well be conceived to have heightened and improved the effect; and they were quickly launched into that gay circle of excitement and. attraction, which, in few instances, confers happiness or true respectability on those whose admission to it solely depends on their powers to add to the pleasures of the great.

Sheridan's intellect may, at this period, be regarded as having attained its maturity. His school was the world, not books; and, such as it was, his education began earlier than that of most men. Whatever may have been his native powers, it is empirical to talk of men otherwise than as we can trace them in fact. His intellect revolved within a narrow compass-he was no philosopher-but what he knew was distinct. Of the facts to be collected from society-from self-experience from the labour of composition-and from the occasional reflection of a very sagacious mind-he was master. But there is, among the memoranda pre

served by Mr. Moore, a shrewd remark of his, which strikes us, as affording a deep insight into his actual character, and a topic for instructive comment, of which we shall not here neglect the use. He is commenting on the letters of Lord Chesterfield—

"His frequent directions for constant employment are entirely ill-founded:-a wise man is formed more by the action of his own thoughts than by continually feeding it. Hurry,' he says, from play to study; never be doing nothing.'-I say, 'frequently be unemployed; sit and think.' There are on every subject but a few leading and fixed ideas; their tracks may be traced by your own genius, as well as by reading : -a man of deep thought, who shall have accustomed himself to support or attack all he has read, will soon find nothing new.'

These last few sentences," says Mr. Moore, "contain the secret of Sheridan's confidence in his own powers."

This is true but they contain much more. They exhibit much of the power, and illustrate much of the defects of his mind. One of the secrets of the higher class of intellects is, the tendency to systematize acquisition by reference to principle; and thus

truly, as Sheridan's profound observation suggests the mind matured by long-continued habits of deep thinking, may be said to arrive at those central points in the maze of things, from which all subjects may be more readily apprehended. It is thus (to seize on the most distinct illustration) that a single theorem in mathematics may contain a score of propositions separately difficult to the tyro, while the adept can solve them all by a simple reference to its general principle. But, this attainment is to be derived precisely from that extensive and laborious acquisition of knowledge, for which this remark of Sheridan's would make it the substitute. We beseech the attention of our youthful reader (to no other can these remarks be of practical avail) to these truths, on which we speak "as one having authority." There is, we grant, an extensive surface of valuable knowledge to be derived from .selfstudy, observation and general reading; but it reaches no further than the purposes of preparation. It cannot supply, and never has supplied, the deficiency of knowledge amassed by long and diligent labour. For there is an error in assuming that practical first principles, such as Sheridan describes, are to be arrived at otherwise than through the medium of the very details which he would reach by beginning with them. His error consists in unconsciously reversing the inductive process; and he was led into it by the nature of his peculiar study-the elaboration of his own powers. Methods of expression, of reasoning, and of thinking, were his pursuit-not true and deep views. Thus he was a rhetorician, not a philosopher or a states

man.

The depths of his acquired philosophy lay in composition-his wit, fancy and taste were his talents-his observation, and the sympathies of a mind alive to all that concerns the human breast, supplied his real knowledge; the rest was but the polish and the decoration. The same was, in some measure, applicable to Goldsmith, who was, like Sheridan, a great master of style, and a shrewd observer of man; but who knew little, and had arrived at no fixed principles. To understand the nature of social workings, and the principles of legislation, without an extensive, deep, and intimate acquaintance with history, as well as with the precedents of experience, the elementary reasonings of jurists and economists, and the laws and constitutional

principles of this and every other nation, ancient and modern, is as impossible as to explain the functions and structure of the human body, without having studied anatomy. But, in proportion as a science becomes popular, it becomes involved in error-the pas sions of the crowd, the designs of the ambitious, and, generally, the prejudices of opinion, acquire solidity, and the specious appearance of principle. Oft repetition gives currency to fallacies, and truth itself is made to involve error, by simply omitting the true principle of its application. Thus may the clever and ingenious sciolist easily flatter himself into the notion, that he has found wisdom on the royal road of ignorance. The character is common,

and it is this makes the above remarks important. It is easy to find among the distinguished characters of every age, some who without appearing to have any fixed principles, yet exhibit extraordinary power and dexterity in the advocacy of every question that may offer. They are quicker at finding or making reasons, than decided in opinion. To the truly wise, they must ever seem flippant and superficial, but will have not the less weight in the councils and opinions of men. If it be asked, on what principle they think, the answer is, that they think according to the impulse they receive from connections or interests. It is their distinction to take their opinions from others, and support them with such reasons as they can easily invent. Such wisdom has illustration enough. We could easily wind up this comment with a list of famous names in every party, men dexterous in the cause of truth or error, but always right or wrong by contingency.

To understand human character, it requires to make refined distinctions; and the distinction here intended to be applied to Sheridan, is between that knowledge which is to be attained by study from books; and that which is the result of quickened observation, and the rapid intuition which is understood by the term "tact." Though superficial as a statesman, and not very profound as a thinker, he was admirably versed in the volume of life. He was a wit, a poet, a dramatist, and an orator. He was rapid in perception and sagacious in comment, as well as brilliant in the play of fancy. If he was no more, it may be that he did not pursue the only means. We have,

we trust, guarded so far against the charge of invidious judgments.

At this time, it appears that he had been on the watch for occasion to enter on the arena of politics. Mr. Moore has discovered amongst his papers some fragments of notes for a pamphlet, in answer to Dr. Johnson's pamphlet, "Taxation no. Tyranny," which now appeared. It does not, however, appear from these fragments, that the fame of Sheridan has lost any thing by the indolence which was the probable means of this intent not being effected. He had not yet arrived at the full maturity of knowledge, method, or style, that might have produced any thing worthy of his genius or of his antagonist; and without here entering into the merits of Johnson's argument, we think that Sheridan's preparations rather exhibit a juvenile notion of the task and subject he undertook. The personal attack on Johnson, as a pensioner, would have been both ungracious, silly, and unjust; and would, perhaps, have cost him a blush on reflection. Mr. Moore's remark on this is more pleasing and just, than we apprehend practicable:-"Men of a high order of genius, such as Johnson and Sheridan, should never enter into warfare with each other, but like the gods in Homer, leave the strife to inferior spirits." In the following year, mutual good offices took place between Sheridan and that truly illustrious manSheridan having, in his prologue to Savage's play of Sir Thomas Overbury paid a handsome compliment to Johnson, the biographer of its author. This was not diminished by the circumstance that Johnson, who had been for some time at variance with his old friend Tom Sheridan, seemed at this time to be anxious for a reconciliation. He was the more gratified by this courtesy from the gifted son. Sheri

dan was soon after proposed by him in the Literary Club, with the complimentary observation" He who had written the two best comedies of his age, is surely a considerable man."

Many of our readers may be gratified by some notice of this club, nor can we imagine a subject of stronger interest, in the life of an eminent literary member of its first and best era. It was first proposed by Reynolds in 1764, and its first members were Reynolds, Burke, Goldsmith, Johnson, Dr. Nugent, Mr. Beauclerk, Mr. Langton, Mr. Chamier, and Sir John Hawkins. They met at the Turk's Head in Gerrard Street, once a week, at seven in the evening, and sat to a late hour. The first intention seems to have been, to have limited its number to that of the nine first members.— Every one may easily comprehend the impossibility of long preserving such a limit. The claims of friendship, and the influence of rank, talent, and celebrity, must be quickly felt; and the barrier that would exclude a common friend of the majority will be broken, as soon as it is felt to be worth assailing. The club grew to thirty-five ; but still the principle of its formation was preserved, and its growth was an enlargement of its talent and literature. A single adverse vote was enough to exclude any applicant for admissionand where so many must have felt a jealous sense of its real object, that exclusive vote could not be wanting, where an unfitting application was made. After about ten years, it was resolved to change the weekly supper into a dinner, once a fortnight, during the sessions of Parliament. The place of meeting has been also changed at different times, and is now at the Thatched House in St. James' Street. Of this club, Sheridan was elected a member, 26th January, 1777.

was

As the day appointed for the celebration of young Blackthorn's christening approached, worthy Bosthoon seized with a kind of uncouth delirium which produced, upon his disjointed features, such grimaces as might be supposed to appear on the face of some Herculean corpse, whilst grinning under the influence of a Galvanic battery. His white hirsute eyebrows rose and sank alternately, like the buckets of a draw-well, whilst in his winks there might be read an oafish but strong character of jocularity, mingled with a vehement expression of the startling and grotesque, which, taken per saturam, renders it impossible for us to class his features under any style of the human face, hitherto known and recognized as such by art or science. His mouth, by the unsettled motion of the upper lip, seemed every moment about to shift its position, and indeed it seldom remained two days successively in the same part of his face, veering either to the right side or the left, according to the mood of the moment, and sometimes hanging transversely under his nose, in a right line with his eyebrow and the opposite side of the chin. On the occasion in question, he wore it twisted back to its favourite berth under the left ear, in order, it is likely, that it might hold a more direct communication with the heart. Then he strided, and trotted, and bounced about with a sluggish alacrity that might not shrink from a comparison with the graceful motions of a dancing somnambulist. There is indeed a class of huge, heavy, dismal faced men, on whose features the exhibition of any emotion produces nothing but an expression of the purest distortion. The laughter and grief ofsuch persons are equally ludicrous, as indeed is every phase of the countenance that is necessary in their case to express the passions either in their full force or only in their more subordinate degrees. Let any of our readers conceive the idea of Liston weeping, and the illustration of that which we wish to convey will be complete.

When the third morning, previous to the baptism of young Blackthorn,

66

Be aisey, Bosthoon,” replied Molsh, getting behind a chair, "be aisey, dear; the nerra lip o' mine you'll taste today, so you won't."

"I won't!" exclaimed Bosthoon, "an' why won't I? Is it a sin for a man to kiss his own wife ?"

"Faix it appears so wid some people; you know there's them in this world that 'ud take a bad manin' out of any thing. I tell you that we've both got a great dale of abuse for the last two or three months in regard o' what I tould you about little Blackthorn-the darlin'!"

"And who wor they that dared to abuse us, Tiuckey?"

"Indeed very nice jinteel peoplean' so modest that butther wouldn't melt in their mouths, I suppose. What a pity, Bosthoon, that we worn't sweethearts sittin' undher a hawthorne, an' nobody wid us but ourselves; then we might kiss an' hug one another for an hour, an' that 'ud be love-the tindherness o' love; but bekase a married man is known to kiss his wife, and bekase I tould you what you know, maybe as modestly considherin' every thing as the primmest of them all, why there must be a rout about it, an' people must be abused an' ill spoken of. You know yourself, Bosthoon darlin', that I even whispered it to you, an' afther all to be tould that I'm not modest! Well, all I say is, God pardon them for bringin' these tears from the eyes of a woman that never did them harm! But any how, there's great want of charity, an' great hypocrisy abroadparticularly among your grave and jinteel people."

"The diouol may saize the woman among them that found fau't wid you, Molsh, half as modest at heart as you