more common kind must have largely operated. It is the character of genius to form a standard for itself, high and perfect in proportion to its power, and to be dissatisfied with all that falls short of it.* This sense of excellence, accompanied by the consciousness of power, is the common source of secret progress, and occasions the production and the cancelling of more poetry than the world has ever seen. The fountains of poetry are emphatically secret, mysterious, solitary and sacred, like first love in the young heart.

Thus animated by the desire to excel, the jealousy of a fastidious taste, the fear to fail, and the wish to produce the effect of surprise, Sheridan amassed in secret the brilliant materials, and trained the peculiar faculties of his mind; and, while the unobservant many by whom he was surrounded, saw but the gay and witty boy, or prognosticated little good from the humoursome and freakish idler, he was earnestly meditating the career of excellence, and cultivating his best powers. His classical attainments were, of necesssity, small; yet it was impossible for a mind like his to have acquired even so much, without appreciating the excellencies of the standard models of antiquity. And it is probable that he had attained more acquaintance with them than was, from his reputation for idleness, likely to be allowed for. Mr. Moore seems to entertain a doubt on the subject, and expresses some surprise at Dr. Parr's having been, as he suspects, imposed on in this respect. Though we think that, of all persons, Sheridan was likely to be both able and willing to have effected such a deception; yet Dr. Parr was the least likely to be the subject of it. Our impression is, we think, confirmed by the facts stated by Mr. Moore. Before the period at which we are arrived, he had been for some time engaged with his friend, Halhed, not only in a variety of literary projects, but in translations from the Greek, which exhibit, in that language, a progress of some standing. And perhaps still more decidedly, an earnest effort to repair the losses occasioned by early neglect.

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At this time also, and in conjunction with the same friend, he appears to have been engaged in efforts of more

peculiar interest, as indicating the true bent of his mind, and exhibiting, at an early period, the progress of his more distinguishing successes. With the cooperation of Halhed, he produced a farce, of which Mr. Moore's superior opportunities have enabled him to preserve a curious and interesting specimen. It is, as this gentleman observes, chiefly remarkable for the gleams which it affords of the Critic," and its illustration of the mode in which afterthoughts and projects originate in early youth. The active fancy cannot indeed long be engaged in any course, without contracting habits which cannot pass away, and which grow through varied transmutations with the growth of the mind, until the moment of power that gives them their mature and perfect form.

In addition to this effort, he had planned and commenced a periodical paper, under the title of Hernan's Miscellany; it never passed the first number; the specimen given by Mr. Moore is, as he calls it, "diffuse and pointless." One only of these early projects, reached completion; a translation into verse, of the epistles of Aristinoetus, a florid and amatory Grecian of the middle ages, which was published in August, 1771. It had no success, nor any eminent merit, nor does it fall within our design to notice it further than for the evidence which such efforts give of the real course and progress of the mind.

Some time previous to this, a change had taken place which, in more ways than one, was to modify the career of Sheridan. The removal of his family to Bath, of all places in the world the place which might be fixed on for the ripening of those talents which he possessed in the highest perfectionthe place where, if we were to adopt the personifications of antiquity, Satire might be said to have her temple, and Wit its magazine of pointed and poisoned shafts,

"hic illius arma,

Hic currus fuit."

Here, undoubtedly, Sheridan studied human life, in all its morbid and artificial moods, and drew that knowledge of men and manners, which is, after all, his best title to the immor

tality of literature. But on this point we shall reserve ourselves till we come to notice his dramatic successes.

"It was," writes Mr. Moore, « about the middle of the year 1770, that the Sheridans took up their abode in King's Mead Street, Bath, where an acquaintance commenced between them and Mr. Linley's family."

Mr. Linley was eminent as a musical composer. Dr. Burney, who has written a sketch of his life for Rees' Cyclopedia, has described his family as a "nest of nightingales;" of these one is peculiarly involved in the thread of our narration. Miss Linley seems, from every notice we can trace of her, as well as from the authentic circumstances of her history, to have been one of those rare and fortunate hits of nature, of which, if it may be said that no generation is without its share, yet it must be added that a man may look much about him for many years, and not make the discovery. She was as gifted in mind, as she was beautiful in person; and it might be a difficult question to decide, whether her gifts were more brilliant, or her amiability and virtue more to be loved and respected. That such preeminent attractions should be known, without admiration and love, is not in nature. And Miss Linley's family, from their professional life, were peculiarly within the public eye. The natural consequence -and it affords an unquestionable test of Miss Linley's superior mind was, that numerous offers, backed by rank and rent-roll, lay at her mercy. We trust that none of our fair readers, all of whom we can assure of our sin cere admiration, regard, and respect, will take offence if we affirm, that this is a test of pure and high-hearted virtue, as well as prudence, to which few are equal. The glitter of rank, or the nominal command of affluence, has a fascination which it requires some greatness of mind, and some longsighted wisdom to resist. When affection is absent, vanity, in most cases, rules the choice, and the solid happiness of after life is partly unthought of, and partly misunderstood. Most young persons will sacrifice future peace for the present vanity; and thus it so often chances

that we see the repining matron suc ceed the gratified and triumphant girl, whose coach and establishment are the price of both taste, feeling, affection, and judgment. Miss Linley's suitors were, however, the high and the gifted, and she might have doubtless secured, what so many covet, without any painful sacrifice of the heart. Many of her lovers were friends-Halhed and the Sheridans may be mentioned. But Richard carried into his affections the same nice and fastidious reserve which we have shewn to be the acquired habit of his mind. His love was animated by his delicate sense of excellence, by the energy of his passions, and by the vanity and jealousy of his nature. Failure in love, painful to the most tempered heart, was not to be contemplated by one like Sheridan ; and as his wit, eloquence and pleasing appearance* soon obtained for him an apparent preference, he doubtless became doubly anxious and watchful of all the little risks which the sensitive so keenly understand. His progress was made in jealous silence; and it was not until many had declared themselves in vain, and Miss Linley's lovers became rather conspicuous for failure, and for their jealous speculations about each other, that Sheridan became even thought of. He had by this time secured the victory over all competitors-wit had, as might be rather desired than hoped, "cut its bright way through." Mr. Moore, who is in possession of the letters of Halhed, which for some reason he has not thought fit to publish, mentions that they "give a lively idea, not only of his own intoxication, but of the sort of contagious delirium, like that at Abdera, described by Lucian, with which the young men of Oxford were affected by this beautiful girl." He mentions as the rivals most dreaded by her admirers, Norris the singer, whose musical talents, it was thought, recommended him to her; and Mr. Watts, a gentleman commoner of very large fortune. But while these gentlemen speculated on common-place motions, and watched or condoled with each other, the heart of their object was fixed, as the heart of sensibility and the mind of taste should be fixed; and

Richard Sheridan, the first in personal and mental attraction, was at last discovered to be the favoured lover. It is an easy task for every heart of human mould to imagine, on a small scale at least, the pains and pleasures of this protracted romance of the heart. The doubts and fears so deeply felt, the slight incidents so magnified, the pang of fancied estrangement or preference, or the anxious delight of the "treasured smile." Sheridan drank this mingled cup, more deeply than falls to the lot of most men, and, doubtless, received from it that severe discipline in the poetry of sentiment, which was not without its effect on his genius-it was the occasion of many of his lesser poetical pieces, and no doubt the origin of much that ornaments his later writings.

Mr. Moore has given much of this poetry; it offers no evidence of a very high degree of poetical genius, but is occasionally pleasing for graceful elegance of sentiment, and pointed simplicity of expression. We shall only here remark that we think Mr. Moore by far too elaborate and refined in his critical justice; he has indulged rather too fancifully in the common illusion of tracing thoughts. It is our opinion, warranted by much observation, that the same sentiments have a tendency to call to the mind the same leading thoughts; and this, allowing for the varieties of temper, and experience, and habit, sufficiently accounts for these coincidences so often noticed as either borrowing or stealing the thoughts of others. This species of criticism we dislike, unless when it can be carried to the length of absolute plagiarism than which no crime deserves less mercy in our critical code. We cannot, however, pass from this topic, without expressing our dissent from the censure which we have heard lavished on Mr. Moore, for exhibiting as broadly, as he has no doubt done, the vast elaboration of Sheridan's wit. It is an anatomy of which we should not much desire to be the subject, for the simple reason, that we have no wish to be dissected for the public good; yet it is surely a gain, for which the world should be thankful, to have so clear and lucid a peep into the secret laboratory of wit; but, in truth, it is peculiarly necessary to the understanding of the character with which he was engaged. This, we have said enough to make apparent. Justice yet requires us to

add, that the process is in a great degree common-most men take the prudent precaution to destroy such evidences, or many a bright feather might seem tarnished in the vulgar estimation. But, in truth, to those who can judge of the real value of talent, there is nothing in this derogatory to the power of the Poet. A dull man could not be witty in a century of plodding; every effort at the higher and more refined achievements of the mind, would but plunge him deeper into mediocrity. It is the peculiar merit of genius to be indefinitely improving, and never to be content with its best creations.

But we return to Miss Linley. No romance has ever carried further its representations of the painful vicissi tudes, and the heroic constancy of the lover, than the history of this period of Sheridan's life. When they first met, Miss Linley was but sixteen, and this, as Mr. Moore justly observes, removes the repugnance which the delicate and fastidious might possibly entertain on the score of her profession as a public singer: which involves the necessity of public exhibitions, unfavourable to feminine reserve and we would add, habits of intercourse with the most immoral class of society. She had been proposed for by Mr. Long, a gentleman of fortune, and the match was acceded to by her father. Miss Linley, however, privately explained her repugnance to this marriage, and Mr. Long, with a rare generosity, took upon himself the blame of breaking off the match. Mr. Linley had immediate recourse to legal proceedings, and Mr. Long sealed his noble and disinterested sacrifice by an indemnification of £3000. It is mentioned by a biographer of Sheridan's, that Mr. Long was considered to be worth £200,000, which after descended to Mrs. Wellesley Pole Long, of Wanstead House.

In the year 1771, Sheridan the elder was called over to Dublin by his professional pursuits, and the young family were alone in Bath. During this period Charles, Sheridan's eldest brother, having made the painful discovery that he had no further hope, wrote a farewell letter to Miss Linley, and retired from the field, without yet having discovered his brother's attachment. This was, however, soon disclosed, owing to a particular incident. A Mr. Mathews, a married man, intimate with the Linley family, fascinated

by Miss Linley's attractions, and presuming on her profession, began to persecute her with attentions which were adapted to attract an injurious notice, and with private importunities of a still more offensive character. To this were added threats of ruining her reputation, and vows of self-destruction. Terrified by these unwarrantable and violent importunities, Miss Linley at last made a confidant of her lover, who consulted with his sister, to whom he now explained the state of his feelings, and proceeded to expostulate with Mathews, who, as might be anticipated, was not in the slightest degree influenced by the remonstrances of a youth of twenty. In consequence of his continued persecution, added to a growing repugnance to a profession, which exposed her to the possibility of such addresses, and at best, both from its intercourse and public nature, was inconsistent with the alarmned delicacy of her character, Miss Linley came to the romantic determination of flight. Her project was to take refuge in some French convent.Her lover, who had probably been her adviser, was to aid her flight, and preparations were duly made. Sheridan obtained the needful money from his sister, and letters of introduction to a family of her acquaintance, at St. Quentin. The evening was chosen for their departure, when a public concert should engage the Linley family. From this Miss Linley excused herself on the plea of illness. At the hour appointed, Sheridan conveyed her in a sedan chair from her father's house to a postchaise which he had stationed on the London road. Here, too, a woman attended, whom, with the natural feeling of an honourable mind, he had engaged to attend her, and to obviate either the pretexts of slander, or the dangers of youth and passion. On their arrival in London, he introduced her to Mr. Ewart, an old friend of his family, as a rich heiress who had eloped with him, and was applauded for his prudence in giving up Miss Linley. This gentleman accommodated them with a passage on board a ship of his, about to sail to Dunkirk, and gave them letters to his correspondents there. By these they were similarly assisted to Lisle.

The first consequence of this step, was such as might be anticipated. Strong inclination seldom goes farther in forbearance, than the first shadow of a just and reasonable pretext; and it

may be doubted whether, having gone so far, both prudence and justice did not warrant the next step. Sheridan now, doubtless upon very cool reflec tion, perceived and urged, that the authority of a husband was necessary to justify his further protection; and that Miss Linley could no more appear in England but as his wife. The argument was convincing, and was probably resisted by no extraordinary subtlety. They were married in March, 1772, by a priest, whom Mr. Moore mentions as "well known for his services on such occasions."

Sheridan having thus attained the bright object of so many hopes and fears, and the aim of so many rival hearts, had yet before him some stern trials and anxious struggles, before he was allowed to possess in peace, the happiness he had thus treasured for the future. The romance was not destined to end with the marriage. The mortified pride and baffled passions of Mathews could not acquiesce in the success of one who had rebuked his villanous designs. The triumph most galling is that of the rival. He became furious at the first report of this elopement, and with the consistent baseness of one who would have seduced innocence, vented his malice in slander. He devoted himself to vindictive reports and calumnious misre presentations, and at length inserted in the Bath Chronicle au advertisement, in which he proclaimed his rival as one not deserving the "treatment of a gentleman," with other opprobrious com ments and epithets. In the meantime, Sheridan returned. He had received an abusive and threatening letter from his rival in France, and replied "that he would never sleep in England, until he thanked him as he deserved." His first meeting with Mr. Mathews, was productive of evasions on the part of the latter, not to be explained without the imputation of cowardice; while the conduct of Sheridan was marked by his characteristic spirit. He found Mathews's lodgings at a late hour of the night, and was for a long time detained at the door on the pretence that the key was not to be found. After a couple of hours' delay, when it was found that the chillness of the hour was not enough to drive him away from his post, the obstacle was removed, and he was admitted. Mathews changed histone entirely; and after all the threats, warnings, and taunts which our autho

rity mentions, called Sheridan his friend, declared "he never meant to quarrel with him. And assured him that the whole cause of complaint had originated in the reports propagated by his own brother (Charles) and another gentleman in Bath."

Sheridan went to Bath, and discovered the falsehood of this assertion. Charles, at the same time, strongly expressing his disapprobation of the conduct of his brother. The two brothers at once set off for London, leaving their sisters as well as Miss Linley in the utmost suspense and alarm.

On arriving in London, Sheridan lost not a moment in calling out Mr. Mathews. The meeting took place, first in Hyde-Park; but very considerable difficulty then occurred from the appearance of persons, from whom Mr. Mathews feared, or affected to fear, interruption; and after frequently shifting their ground, and much remon strance on the part of Sheridan, they removed to the Bedford Coffee House, and thence to the Castle Tavern, Henrietta-street. Here they engaged with swords by candle light. The result may be described from an after statement of Sheridan's :

"I struck Mr. M's sword so much out

of line, that I stepped up and caught hold of his wrist at the point of his sword, while the point of mine was at his breast. You ran in and caught hold of my arm, exclaiming don't kill him.'"-Moore's Life.

Mr. Mathews begged his life; but having done so showed every disposition not to retract. Sheridan's resolution, however, prevailed; and he obtained from his antagonist a written retractation of the scandalous advertisement already mentioned. This was inserted in the Bath Chronicle, May

7th.

Mr. Mathews retired to his estate in Wales; but the particulars of his conduct had taken wind, and he was avoided with contempt. A Mr. Bar nett, under these circumstances, urged upon him the necessity of vindicating his character by a second meeting with Sheridan. His advice, together with bis services as friend on the occasion, were accepted, and they set off for Bath without delay. Sheridan's father, who had but just forgiven him for the former affair, was in London. Miss Linley absent on an engagement

in Oxford. The parties met at Kingsdown. The account of the second meeting was drawn up by Mr. Barnett, of whose statement we just extract enough from Mr. Moore to give the reader a full idea of the result:

"Mr. Mathews drew; Mr. Sheridan advanced on him at first; Mr. Mathews in turn advanced fast on Mr. Sheridan; upon which he retreated, till he very suddenly ran in upon Mr. Mathews, laying himself exceedingly open, and endeavouring to get hold of Mr. Mathews's sword; Mr. Mathews received him on his point, and, I believe, disengaged his sword from Mr. Sheridan's body, and gave him another Wound; which, I suppose, must have been bone, as his sword broke, which I imaeither against one of his ribs, or his breastgine happened from the resistance it met with from one of those parts; but whether it was broke by that, or on the closing, I cannot aver.

"Mr. Mathews, I think, on finding his sword broke, laid hold of Mr. Sheridau's sword-arm, and tripped up his heels: they both fell; Mr. Mathews was upper

most, with the hilt of his sword in his

hand, having about six or seven inches of the blade to it, with which I saw him give Mr. Sheridan, as I imagined, a skinwound or two in the neck; for it could be no more, the remaining part of the beat him in the face either with his fist sword being broad and blunt; he also or the hilt of his sword. Upon this I turned from them, and asked Captain Paumier if we should not take them up; but I cannot say whether he heard me or not, as there was a good deal of noise; however, he made no reply. I again turned to the combatants, who were much in the same situation: I found Mr. Sheridan's sword was bent, and he slipped his hand up the small part of it, and gave Mr. Mathews a slight wound in the left part of his belly: I, that instant, turned again to Captain Paumier. and proposed again our taking them up. He, in the killed, he is killed!'-I, as quick as possame moment, called out, Oh! he is sible turned again, and found Mr. Mathews had recovered the point of his sword, that was before on the ground, with which he had wounded Mr. Sheridan in the belly: I saw him drawing the point out of the wound. By this time Mr. Sheridan's sword was broke, which he told us.-Captain Paumier called out to him,

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My dear Sheridan, beg your life, and I will be yours for ever." I also desired him to ask his life: he replied, No, by I won't.'

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