"I then to'd Captain Paumier it would not do to wait for those punctilios (or words to that effect), and desired he would assist me in taking them up. Mr. Ma thews most readily acquiesced, first desiring me to see Mr. Sheridan was disarmed. I desired him to give me the tuck, which he readily did, as did Mr. Sheridan the broken part of his sword to Captain Paumier. Mr. Sheridan and Mr. Mathews both got up, the former was helped into one of the chaises, and drove off for Bath, and Mr. Mathews made the best of his way for London."* We cannot afford space to give the details of the correspondence on the occasion of these two duels. The intelligence reached Oxford while the performance was going on; but was sedulously kept from Miss Linley, from the fear that it might incapacitate her from performing. Neither her father or Sheridan's yet knew of their marrage; and as they were both equally hostile to it, it was now to be feared that a premature discovery might take place, in the result of which they could have had no difficulty in breaking it. Sheridan had repeatedly guarded her against this risk. It was now much increased. On her way back to Bath, she was met by a considerate friend of her family, who took every precaution to break the account of her lover's danger in the gentlest way. Notwithstanding the utmost care, the shock was too serious to admit of her standing upon those cautions and reserves, for which there was so strong a need. In the agitation of the moment, the affecting exclamation, My husband!" escaped, and disclosed the secret of her heart. The words were, of course, repeated, and the fears and suspicions of both fathers strongly excited. Every effort was 66 now made to ensnare either of the parties into a confession, in order that, if suspicion should be confirmed, the marriage might be broken. They, however, still eluded every snare; and the suspicious exclamation was explained by the alarm and agitation which the sudden account of her lover's danger occasioned. Sheridan's danger had probably been much exaggerated; four or five days were sufficient to set the fears of his friends at rest on this score. Nor was it long before his father, anxious to remove him from the vicinity of the Linleys, was enabled to send him to the care of his friends, Mr. and Mrs. Parker of Farmhill, in Essex. Here he continued till the following spring, under circumstances which must be easily appre ciated by all who have ever had their affections tortured by suspense and absence. His were not, however, the ordinary trials which disturb this most anxious and exciting period of youthful life. In addition to the alarming ob stacles. with which the reader is acquainted, there was the aggravation of a lively fancy and a jealous heart, and the painful sense that his doubts and fears were to some extent justified by the exceeding popularity of his young wife, and the notion so natural to the lover, that she must be as much the object of love to every one else as to himself. Considering the secret tie, he could not of course have entertained a sober suspicion of her constancy. There is a very common refinement of jealousy, which is surprisingly little allowed for by those who are not actually under its influence. The lover, while he feels the utmost reliance on the truth of the object of his affections, and while he is just in judging of her conduct towards others, is often ready to resent the construction which they may put on her smiles and courtesies, in the common intercourse of the world. In affection there is a proud and exclusive spirit that cannot brook a moment's appropriation, even in a rival's fancy, of that it would wholly engross. And there is with this a resentment of the mortifying imputation which fancy involves in such a wrong: neither can a lover bear that his idol should be thought an inconstant. We take the opportunity to make this remark, because we have more than once seen fatal misunderstandings arise from the neg lect to allow for this infirmity. We cannot pretend to analyze the sufferings of Sheridan during this long period of trial. Mr. Moore mentions certain letters, written during this period, as strongly exhibiting the struggles of his mind. We much regret the seal of secrecy which has withheld them from the public, while, at the same time, we have no doubt as to the soundness and just discretion of the motive. During this anxious interval, Sheridan made no small progress in that laborious self-education which is ever the real foundation of all genuine fame. Mr. Moore reflects upon the state of • This is from a letter to Mr. Knight, the second of Mr. Mathews. his feelings as unfavorable to study. We think and have felt the contrary. Transient excitement must have the effect of dissipating attention, and engrossing the thoughts too exclusively for study. But this is a state which cannot continue for many days in a sane mind. There is a self-preserving effort which every one understands, the impulse of which is to seek diversion in pleasure, or absorption in study. And though in the midst of these the haunting care will return, or the pang of wounded feeling rise into agony; yet will the sufferer, if he has the strength and spirit of a sound mind, struggle sedulously on with the "oblivious antidote." Nor can ambition and taste, or the curiosity of intellectual pursuit be long absent from a mind, by nature so framed to feel them, as Sheridan's. In his retirement, his time was laboriously devoted to history and its kindred studies. Mr. Moore mentions an abstract of English history (found by him among his papers), nearly filling a small quarto volume of more than a hundred pages closely written;" as also "a collection of remarks on Sir William Temple's works." Mr. Moore observes, that this latter was "confined chiefly to verbal criticism," and that his remarks tend to prove that he had not vet arrived at that taste for "idiomatic English, which was afterwards one of the great charms of his own dramatic style." Early in the spring of 1773, Miss Linley was engaged at Covent Garden, in the oratorios. Sheridan, who was at the same time near London, did not neglect the opportunity to make frequent efforts to obtain an interview with ber. The severe vigilance of Mr. Linley made this difficult, and he was obliged to have recourse to contrivance and dexterity. "Among other stratagems," writes Mr. Moore, "which he contrived for the purpose of exchanging a few words with her, he more than once disguised himself as a hackney coachman, and drove her home from the theatre." From the same authority we learn that a serious misunderstanding was near arising between them at this time, owing to the varied rumors and public reports, occasioned by the general admiration which she excited. These, though all in the highest degree flattering and wholly free from the taint of slanderous imputation, could not fail to excite the jealousy of long exasperated passion. But the breach was easily healed by the kind offices of Mr. Ewart, a common friend. Mr. Linley at last became convinced of the inutility of continuing to thwart affections which thus withstood all trials, and appeared too firm and enduring for such resistance as he could long contrive to interpose, and gave his consent to their marriage. It took place, by license, on the 13th April, 1773. The first act of Sheridan's, at this period which is to be regarded as the outset of his life, indicates unequivocally the high line of action and position he had thus early marked out for himself. The son of a player; without independent means; married to the daughter of one in the same class; disconnected by the circumstance with his father; and nearly thrown on the resources of his own mind for subsistence: he did not yet hesitate to reject the splendid avenue to wealth which his wife's professional talents laid open. To appreciate fully the extent of this sacrifice to a respectable pride, and perhaps affection, the reader must dismiss the idea of his subsequent position in the world. And thus may be discerned the same self-dependence, the same delicacy of sentiment, and the same romance, which seem to have run like veins of some brilliant ore, through all the conduct of his younger days. An engagement had been concluded for Mrs. Sheridan, some months before her marriage, for the musical meeting at Worcester; and further engagements were at the same time in treaty. Sheridan at once declared his direct denial against the fulfilment of these engagements. And though his wife's talents were at this time the subject of universal popularity, he yet resisted the most urgent entreaties, strongly backed by influence, in high quarters. He depended on his own powers, and his dependence was not in vain. A few months amply vindicated his right to reject a source of affluence inconsistent with his pride and affections. And yet it may be an illustration of the aspiring views which he must have entertained, to mention that considerably after, when he had acquired the reputation of his firstrate dramatic works, the Duchess of Devonshire is said to have hesitated to invite to her parties, persons of a rank so equivocal. "Her grace," writes Mr. Moore, "was reminded of these scruples some years 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 con firmed 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 aly malice of the sa tire, 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 to 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 enter into a regular analysis of this lively play, the best comment on which is to be found in the many smiling faces that are lighted up around whereever it appears, is a task of criticism that will hardly be thought necessary. With much less wit, it exhibits perhaps more humour than The School for Scandal, and the dialogue, though by no means so pointed or sparkling, is, in this respect, more natural, as coming nearer the current coin of ordinary conversation; whereas, the circulating medium of The School for Scandal is diamonds. The characters of The Rivals, on the contrary, are not such as occur very commonly in the world; and, instead of producing striking effects with natural and obvious materials, which is the great art and difficulty of a painter of human life, he has here overcharged most of his persons with whims and absurdities, for which the circumstances they romantic history of Sheridan's recent adventures in love and war" 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 are engaged in afford but a very disproportionate vent. Accordingly, for our insight into their characters, we are indebted rather to their confessions than their actions. Lydia Languish, in proclaiming the extravagance of her own romantic notions, prepares us for events much more ludicrous and eccentric, than those in which the plot allows her to be concerned; and the young lady herself is scarcely more disappointed than we are, at the tameness with which her amour concludes. Among the various ingredients supposed to be mixed up in the composition of Sir Lucius O'Trigger, his love of fighting is the only one whose flavour is very strongly brought out; and the wayward, captious jealousy of Falkland, though so highly coloured in his own representation of it, is productive of no incident answerable to such an announcement;-the imposture which he practices upon Julia being perhaps weakened in its effect, by our recollection of the same device in the Nut-brown Maid and Peregrine Pickle. "The character of Sir Anthony Absolute is, perhaps, the best sustained and most natural of any, and the scenes between him and Captain Absolute are richly, genuinely dramatic. His surprise at the apathy with which his son receives the glowing picture which he draws of the charms of his destined bride, and the effect of the question, And which is to be mine, sir-the niece or the aunt?' are in the truest style of humour. Mrs. Malaprop's mistakes, in what she herself calls orthodoxy,' have often been objected to as improbable from a woman in her rank of life; but, though some of them, it must be owned, are extravagant and farcical, they are almost all amusing, and the luckiness of her simile, as headstrong as an allegory on the banks of the Nile,' will be acknowledged as long as there are writers to be run away with, by the wilfulness of this truly headstrong' species of composition. "Of the faults of Sheridan, both in his witty and serious styles the occasional effort of the one, and the too frequent false finery of the other." 6 "But, notwithstanding such blemishes, and it is easy for the microscopic eye of criticism to discover gaps and inequalities in the finest edge of genius-this play, from the liveliness of its plot, the variety and whimsicality of its characters, and the exquisite humour of its dialogue, is one of the most amusing in the whole range of the drama; and even, without the aid of its more splendid successor, The School for Scandal would have placed Sheridan in the first rank of comic writers." 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 statesman. 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 preju dices 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 inpulse 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, |