tion in all the scenes; a superabund ance of wit, and marvels of ingenuity; over all this, a true physical activity, and the secret pleasure of depicting and justifying oneself, of public self-glorifi cation: here is the foundation of the School for Scandal, here the source of the talent and the success of Sheridan.

Richard Brinsley Sheridan was the

and the court; another, when Gold-| A piquant style, and perfeot machinery smith, inventing a series of mistakes, pungency in all the words, and anima led his hero and his audience through five acts of blunders.* After all, if true comedy can only exist in certain ages, ordinary comedy can exist in any age. It is too akin to the pamphlet, novels, satire, not to raise itself occasionally by its propinquity. If I have an enemy, instead of attacking him in brochure, I can take my fling at him m the stage. If I am capable of paint-contemporary of Beaumarchais, and ng a character in a story, I am not far resembled him in his talent and in his from having the talent to bring out the life. The two epochs, the two drapith of this same character in a few matic schools, the two characters, cor. urns of a dialogue. If I can quietly respond. Like Beaumarchais, he was ridicule a vice in a copy of verses, I a lucky adventurer, clever, amiable, and shall easily arrive at making this vice generous, reaching success through speak out from the mouth of an actor. scandal, who flashed up in a moment, At least I shall be tempted to try it; I dazzled everybody, scaled with a rush shall be seduced by the wonderful éclat the empyrean of politics and literature, which the footlights, declamation, settled himself, as it were, among the scenery give to an idea; I shall try and constellations, and, like a brilliant bring my own into this strong light; I rocket, presently went out completely shall go in for it even when it is neces- exhausted. Nothing failed him; he atsary that my talent be a little or a tained all at the first attempt, without good deal forced for the occasion. If apparent effort, like a prince who need need be, I shall delude myself, sub- only show himself to win his place. He stitute expedients for artless originality took as his birthright every thing that and true comic genius. If on a few was most surpassing in happiness, points I am inferior to the great mas- most brilliant in art, most exalted in ters, on some, it may be, I surpass worldly position. The poor unknown them; I can work up my style, refine youth, the wretched translator of upon it, discover happier words, more an unreadable Greek sophist, who striking jokes, a brisker exchange of at twenty walked about Bath in a brilliant repartees, newer images, more red waistcoat and a cocked hat, destipicturesque comparisons; I can take tute of hope, and ever conscious of the from this one a character, from the emptiness of his pockets, had gained other a situation, borrow of a neigh- the heart of the most admired beauty boring nation, out of old plays, good and musician of her time, had carried novels, biting pamphlets, polished sa- her off from ten rich, elegant, titled tires, and petty newspapers; I can ac- adorers, had fought with the best-hoax. cumulate effects, serve up to the public ed of the ten, beaten him, had carried a stronger and more appetizing stew; by storm the curiosity and attention of above all, I can perfect my machine, the public. Then, challenging glory oil the wheels, plan the surprises, the and wealth, he placed successively or stage effects, the see-saw of the plot, the stage the most diverse and the like a consummate playwright. The most applauded dramas, comedies, art of constructing plays is as capable farce, opera, serious verse; he bought of development as the art of clock- and worked a large theatre without a making. The farce-writer of to-day farthing, inaugurated a reign of successsees that the catastrophe of half of es and pecuniary advantages, and led Molière's plays is ridiculous; nay, a life of elegance amid the enjoyments many of them can produce catastrophes of social and domestic joys, surrounded better than Molière; in the long run, by universal admiration and wonder they succeed in stripping the theatre of Thence, aspiring yet higher, he conall awkwardness and circumlocution.quered power, entered the House of Commons, showed himself a match for

* She Stoops to Conquer.

What is more difficult than for an

the first orators, opposed Pitt, accused | suaded; none withstood him, every Warren Hastings, supported Fox, one fell under his charm. jeered at Burke; sustained with brilliancy, disintereste iness, and constancy, a most difficult and liberal part; became one of the three or four most noted men in England, an equal of the greatest lords, the friend of the Prince of Wales, in the end even ReceiverGeneral of the Duchy of Cornwall, treasurer to the fleet. In every career he took the lead. As Byron said of him: "Whatsoever Sheridan has done or chosen to do has been, par excellence, always the best of its kind. He has written the best comedy (The School for Scandal), the best drama (in my mind far before that St. Giles lampoon The Beggar's Opera), the best farce (The Critic-it is only too good for a farce), and the best Address (Monologue on Garrick), and, to crown all, delivered the very best oration (the famous Begum Speech) ever conceived or heard in this country."

All ordinary rules were reversed in his favor. He was forty-four years old, debts began to accumulate; he had supped and drunk to excess; his cheeks were purple, his nose red. In this state he met at the Duke of Devonshire's a charming young lady with whom he fell in love. At the nrst sight she exclaimed, "What an ugly man, a regular monster!" He spoke to her; she confessed that he was very ugly, but that he had a good deal of wit. He spoke again, and she found him very amiable. He spoke yet again, and she loved him, and resolved at all hazard to marry him. The father, a prudent man, wishing to end the affair, gave out that his future sonin-law must provide a dowry of fifteen thousand pounds; the fifteen thousand pounds were deposited as by magic in the hands of a banker; the young couple set off into the country; and Sneridan, meeting his son, a fine strapping fellow, not very satisfied with the marriage, persuaded him that it was the most sensible thing a father could do, and the most fortunate event that a son could rejoice over. Whatever the business, whoever the man, he per

The Works of Lord Byron, 18 vols., ed. Moore, 1833, ii. p. 303.

ugly man to make a young girl forge. his ugliness? There is one thing more difficult, and that is to make a creditor forget you owe him money. There is something more difficult still, and that is, to borrow money from a creditor who has come to dun you. One day one of his friends was arrested fo debt; Sheridan sends for Mr. Henderson, the crabbed tradesman, coaxes him, interests him, moves him to tears. works upon his feelings, hedges him in with general considerations and lofty eloquence, so that Mr. Henderson offers his purse, actually wants to lend two hundred pounds, insists, and finally, to his great joy, obtains permission to lend it. No one was ever more amiable, quicker to win confidence than Sheridan; rarely has the sympathetic, affectionate, and fascinating character been more fully display. ed; he was literally seductive. In the morning, creditors and visitors filled the rooms in which he lived; he came in smiling with an easy manner, with so much loftiness and grace, that the people forgot their wants and their claims, and looked as if they had only come to see him. His animation was irresistible; no one had a more dazzling wit; he had an inexhaustible fund of puns, contrivances, sallies, nov. el ideas. Lord Byron, who was a good judge, said that he had never heard nor conceived of a more extraordinary power of conversation. Men spent nights in listening to him; no one equalled him during a supper; even when drunk he retained his wit One morning he was picked up by the watch, and they asked him his name; he gravely answered, "Wilberforce." With strangers and inferiors he had no arrogance or stiffness; he possess ed in an eminent degree that unre. served character which always exhibits itself complete, which holds back none of its light, which abandons and gives itself up; he wept when he received a sincere eulogy from Lord Byron, or in recounting his miseries as a plebeian parvenu. Nothing is more charming than this openness of heart; it at once sets people on a footing cf peace and

Imagine the exaggerated caricatures artists are wont to improvise, in the drawing-room of a house where they are intimate, about eleven o'clock in the evening. His first play, The Rivals, and afterwards his Duenna, and The Critic, are filled with these, and scarce any thing else. There is Mrs. Malaprop, a silly pretentious woman, who uses grand words higgledy-piggledy, delight

amity; aen suddenly desert their de- | fensive and cautious attitude; they perceive that a man is giving himself up to them, and they give themselves up to him; the outpouring of his innermost feelings invites the outpouring of theirs. A minute later, Sheridan's impetuous and sparkling individuality flashes out; his wit explodes, rattles like a discharge of fire-arms; he takes the conversation to himself, with a sus-ed with herself, in " a nice derangement tained brilliancy, a variety, an inex- of epitaphs" before her nouns, and haustible vigor, till five o'clock in the declaring that her niece is "as heać. morning. Against such a necessity for strong as an allegory on the banks of aunching out in unconsidered speech, the Nile." There is Bob Acres, who of indulgence, of self-outpouring, a suddenly becomes a hero, gets engaged man had need be well on his guard; in a duel, and being led on the ground, life cannot be passed like a holiday; calculates the effect of the balls, thinks it is a strife against others and against of his will, burial, embalmment, and oneself; people must think of the fu- wishes he were at home. There is anture, mistrust themselves, make pro- other caricature in the person of a clumvision; there is no subsisting without sy and cowardly servant, of an irascible the precaution of a shopkeeper, the and brawling father, of a sentimental calculation of a tradesman. If we and romantic young lady, of a touchy sup too often, we will end by not hav- Irish duellist. All this jogs and jostles ing wherewithal to dine upon; when on, without much order, amid the surour pockets have holes in them, the prises of a twofold plot, by aid of apshillings will fall out; nothing is more pliances and rencontres, without the of a truism, but it is true. Sheridan's full and regular control of a dominating debts accumulated, his digestion failed. idea. But in vain we perceive it is a He lost his seat in Parliament, his patchwork; the high spirit carries off theatre was burned; sheriff's officer every thing we laugh heartily; every succeeded sheriff's officer, and they single scene has its facetious and rapid had long been in possession of his movement; we forget that the clumsy house. At last, a bailiff arrested the valet makes remarks as witty as Sheridying man in his bed, and was for tak dan himself,* and that the irascible ing him off in his blankets; nor would gentleman speaks as well as the most he let him go until threatened with a elegant of writers. The playwright is lawsuit, the doctor having declared also a man of letters; if, through mere that the sick man would die on the animal and social spirit, he wished to road. A certain newspaper (the Ex- amuse others and to amuse himself, he aminer) cried shame on the great lords does not forget the interests of his talent who suffered such a man to end so and the care for his reputation. He miserably they hastened to leave their cards at his door. In the funeral procession, two brothers of the king, dukes, earls, bishops, the first men in England, carried or followed the body. A singular contrast, picturing in abstract all his talent, and all his life; lords at his funeral and bailiffs at his death-bed.

His theatre was in accordance with his life; all was brilliant, but the metal was not all his own, nor was it of the best quality. His comedies were come. dies of society, the most amusing ever written but merely comedies of society.

will ever risk the loss of his honour!
* Acres. Odds blades! David, ne gentleman

David. I say, then, it would be but civil in honour never to risk the loss of a gentleman.Look ye, master, this honour seems to me to be a marvellous false friend; ay, truly, a very courtier-like servant.-The Dramatic Works

of Richard Brinsley Sheridan, 1828: The Rivals, iv. 1.

↑ Sir Anthony. Nay, but Jack, such eyes! Not a glance but speaks and kindles some so innocently wild! so bashfully irresolute! thought of love! Then, Jack, her cheeks! se deeply blushing at the insinuations of her telltale eyes! Then, Jack, her lips! O Jack, lips, smiling at their own discretion! and if not smiling, more sweetly pouting, more lovely in sullenness!-The Rivals, iii. 1.

has taste, he appreciates the refinements | sensible discourse of the amiable Eliof style, the worth of a new image, of ante. Molière represents the malice a striking contrast, of a witty and well- of the world without exaggeration; but considered insinuation. He has, above in Sheridan they are rather caricatured all, wit, a wonderful conversational wit, than depicted. Ladies, your servant," the art of rousing and sustaining the says Sir Peter; mercy upon me! the attention, of being biting, varied, of whole set-a character dead at every taking his hearers unawares, of throw- sentence."* In fact, they are ferocious: ing in a repartee, of setting folly in re- it is a regular quarry; they even befoul lief, of accumulating one after another one another, to deepen the outrage. Pitticisms and happy phrases. He Mrs. Candour remarks: "Yesterday brought himself to perfection subse- Miss Prim assured me, that Mr. and quently to his first play having acquired Mrs. Honeymoon are now become mere theatrical experience, writing and eras- man and wife, like the rest of their 'ng; trying various scenes, recasting, acquaintance. She likewise hinted, arranging them; his desire was that that a certain widow in the next street nothing should arrest the interest, no had got rid of her dropsy, and recoverimprobability shock the spectator; that ed her shape in a most surprising man his comedy might glide on with the ner. precision, certainty, uniformity of a good machine. He invents jests, replaces them by better ones; he whets his jokes, binds them up like a sheaf of arrows, and writes at the bottom of the last page," Finished, thank God.-Amen." He is right, for the work costs him some pains; he will not write a second. This kind of writing, artificial and condensed as the satires of La Bruyère, is like a cut phial, into which the author has distilled all his reflections, his reading, his wit, without keeping any thing

for himself.

What is there in this celebrated School for Scandal? And how is it that it has cast upon English comedy, which day by day was being more and more forgotten, the radiance of a last success? Sheridan took two characters from Fielding, Blifil, and Tom Jones; two plays of Molière, Le Misanthrope and Tartuffe; and from these puissant materials, condensed with admirable cleverness, he has constructed the most brilliant firework imaginable. Molière has only one female slanderer, Célimene; the other characters serve only to give her a cue: there is quite enough of such a jeering woman; she rails on within certain bounds, without hurry, like a true queen of the drawing-room, who has time to converse, who knows that she is listened to, who listens to herself she is a woman of society, who preserves the tone of refined conversation; and in order to smooth down the harshness, her slanders are interrupted by the calm reason and

I was informed, too, that Lord Flimsy caught his wife at a house of no extraordinary fame; and that Tom Saunter and Sir Harry Idle were to measure swords on a similar occasion."† Their animosity is so bitter that they lower themselves to play the part of buffoons. The most elegant person in the room, Lady Teazle, shows her teeth to ape a ridiculous lady, draws her mouth on one side, and makes faces. There is no pause, no softening; sar casms fly about like pistol-shots. The author had laid in a stock, he had to use them up. He himself is speaking through the mouth of each of his char acters; he gives them all the same wit, that is his own, his irony, his harshness, his picturesque vigor; whatever they are, clowns, fops, old maids, nc matter, the author's main business is tc break out into twenty explosions in a minute :

"Mrs. Candour. Well, I will never join in the ridicule of a friend; so I tell my cousin Ogle, and ye all kno what pretensions she has to beauty.

Crab. She has the oddest countenance-a collection of features from all the corners the globe.

Sir Benjar in. She has, indeed, an Irish front.

Crab. Caledonian locks.

Sir B. Dutch v vse.

Crab. Austrian lips.

Sir B. The complexion of a Spaniard.
Crab. And teeth à la Chinoise.

Sir B. In short, her face resembles a tabl d'hôte at Spa, where no two guests are of i nation.

frab. Or a congress at the close of a gen

*The School for Scandal, ii. 2.

Ibid i. 1.