rebuke. During Sheridan's absence, Matthews posted him as a liar and a scoundrel; and Sheridan, on his return, lost no time in calling him to an account, for taking such a liberty with his character. A duel followed, in which Matthews behaved ridiculously enough, and ended by begging his life, and making a written apology. After this affair, Matthews withdrew to his estate in Wales, where he was greatly surprised and mortified to discover that he had lost his reputation for courage among the country squires and fox-hunting gentry of the vicinity. In his distress, he applied to a Mr. Barnet, a learned professor of the code of duel, who informed him, for his consolation, that the affair with Sheridan had been improperly adjusted, and that he was not only entitled, but in duty bound, to fight his duel over again. Matthews caught eagerly at this happy expedient for retrieving his reputation, and proceeded to Bath with his good friend and counsellor, where he challenged Sheridan, and a second duel was fought with swords, at a tavern. Matthews's sword broke at the onset; Sheridan then tripped up his heels; both fell, and after fighting a while on the floor, Sheridan's sword broke also, and the parties continued struggling on the floor, and hacking at each other with the broken points of their weapons, while their seconds stood very quietly looking on. At last the combatants were taken up, and carried home, covered with wounds and honour. Mr. Moore has wasted quite too many pages on this ridiculous affair.

Mr. Moore's criticism on the Rivals, Sheridan's first dramatic production, is so just, that we cannot help extracting it.

"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 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 been often 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-some examples may be cited from the dialogue of this play."-pp. 96, 97.

It may be added, that the greater part of the dialogue between Falkland and Julia is in bad taste, full of this affected glitter, and written with a kind of rhythm which constantly reminds us of ill modulated blank verse.

The Duenna, which was brought out at the Covent Garden theatre in the same year, (1775,) was attended with a success almost incredible. "It was acted," says Mr. Moore, "no less than seventy-five times during the season, the only intermissions being a few days at Christmas, and the Fridays in every week ;-the latter, on account of Leoni, who, being a Jew, could not act on those nights."

"The Duenna is one of the very few operas in our language, which combine the merits of legitimate comedy with the attractions of poetry and song;-that divorce between sense and sound, to which Dr. Brown and others trace the cessation of early miracles of music, being no where more remarkable than in the operas of the English stage. The "Sovereign of the willing soul" (as Gray calls music) always loses by being made exclusive sovereign, and the division of her empire with poetry and wit, as in the instance of The Duenna, doubles her real power."-p. 113.

The wit of the Duenna, nobody, we believe, will pretend to dispute, and the poetry may be, for aught we know, infinitely superior to that of any other English opera. Still, we cannot be of opinion that, as poetry, it is entitled to take a very high rank. The songs of the Duenna are easy, polished, and prettily turned; but they are neither impassioned nor fanciful, nor have that intense glow of expression which belongs to many lyric compositions of a later date they resemble French songs. With all our deference to Mr. Moore's better judgment, we cannot help thinking that they would make but a poor figure by the side of his own.

VOL. II.

23

The School for Scandal, one of the happiest specimens of brilliant and sustained wit in our language, was finished with a labour proportionate to its excellence. We have already spoken of the intense mental exertion of which Sheridan was capable, when he shook off, for a time, the spells of indolence and dissipation. After speaking of the early age at which this comedy was written, namely, when Sheridan was but six and twenty, our author adds:

"It is, perhaps, still more remarkable to find, as in the instance before us, that works which, at this period of life, we might suppose to have been the rapid offspring of a careless, but vigorous fancy,-anticipating the results of experience by a sort of second-sight inspiration, should, on the contrary, have been the slow result of many and doubtful experiments, gradually unfolding beauties unforeseen even by him who produced them, and arriving, at length, step by step, at perfection. That such was the tardy process by which the School for Scandal was produced, will appear from the first sketches of its plan and dialogue, which I am here enabled to lay before the reader, and which cannot fail to interest deeply all those who take delight in tracing the alchemy of genius, and in watching the first slow workings of the menstruum, out of which its finest transmutations arise.

"Genius," says Buffon, "is Patience;" or, (as another French writer has explained his thought)-"La patience cherche, et le Génie trouve;" and there is little doubt that to the co-operation of these two powers all the brightest inventions of this world are owing;- -that Patience must first explore the depths where the pearl lies hid, before Genius boldly dives and brings it up full into light. There are, it is true, some striking exceptions to this rule; and our own times have witnessed more than one extraordinary intellect, whose depth has not prevented their treasures from lying ever ready within reach. But the records of Immortality furnish few such instances; and all we know of the works, that she has hitherto marked with her seal, sufficiently authorize the general position, that nothing great and durable has ever been produced with ease, and that Labour is the parent of all the lasting wonders of this world, whether in verse or stone, whether poetry or pyramids.”—pp. 138,

139.

Those who are fond of literary history, will peruse with pleasure the account given by Mr. Moore of the first conception of this comedy, the successive changes made in the plot, the variation of the characters, the polishing and pointing of the multitude of witticisms manufactured for the occasion, and the final selection of the happiest of these for the finished work, all which are well illustrated by curious extracts from the manuscripts of Sheridan.

"In respect of mere style, too, the workmanship of so pure a writer of English as Sheridan is well worth the attention of all who would learn the difficult art of combining ease with polish, and being, at the same time, idiomatic and elegant. There is not a page of these manuscripts that does not bear testimony to the fastidious care with which he selected,

arranged, and moulded his language, so as to form it into that transparent channel of his thoughts, which it is at present.

"His chief objects in correcting were to condense and simplify-to get rid of all unnecessary phrases and epithets, and, in short, to strip away from the thyrsus of his wit every leaf that could render it less light and portable. One instance out of many will show the improving effect of these operations. The following is the original form of a speech of Sir Peter's:

666

"People, who utter a tale of scandal, knowing it to be forged, deserve the pillory more than for a forged bank-note. They can't pass the lie without putting their names on the back of it. You say no person has a right to come on you because you didn't invent it; but you should know that, if the drawer of the lie is out of the way, the injured party has a right to come on any of the indorsers.'

"When this is compared with the form in which the same thought is put at present, it will be perceived how much the wit has gained in lightness and effect by the change :--

'Mrs. Candour But sure you would not be quite so severe on those who only report what they hear ?

'Sir P. Yes, madam, I would have Law-merchant for them too, and in all cases of slander currency, whenever the drawer of the lie was not to be found, the injured party should have a right to come on any of the indorsers.'

"Another great source of the felicities of his style, and to which he attended most anxiously in revision, was the choice of epithets; in which he has the happy art of making these accessary words not only minister to the clearness of his meaning, but bring out new effects in his wit by the collateral lights which they strike upon it--and even where the principal idea has but little significance, he contrives to enliven it into point by the quaintness or contrast of his epithets.

"Among the many rejected scraps of dialogue that lie about, like the chippings of Phidias, in his workshop of wit, there are some precious enough to be preserved, at least, as relics. For instance,-- She is one of those, who convey a libel in a frown, and wink a reputation down.' The following touch of costume, too, in Sir Peter's description of the rustic dress of Lady Teazle before he married her:-- You forget when a little wire and gauze, with a few beads, made you a fly-cap not bigger than a blue-bottle.""-pp. 155, 156.

The labours, however, by which these effects were produced, vigorous as they undoubtedly were for the moment, must have been extremely desultory and irregular, since they were carefully concealed from the world. It was always the policy of Sheridan, to increase the surprise and admiration of the public at the displays of his talents, by making them appear to be the unpremeditated effusions of the moment. "This," says Mr. Moore," was remarkably the case in the instance before us. Notwithstanding the labour which he bestowed upon this comedy, (or we should rather, perhaps, say in consequence of that labour,) the first representation of the piece was announced before the whole of the copy was in the hands of the actors. The manuscript, indeed, of the five last scenes bears evident

marks of this haste in finishing-there being but one rough draft of them, scribbled upon detached pieces of paper; while, of all the preceding acts, there are numerous transcripts, scattered promiscuously through six or seven books, with new interlineations and memorandums to each." It is somewhat extraordinary, that Sheridan, in the composition of this play, should not have been aware of the impropriety which he has committed, of giving to all the characters in the piece the same abundance of wit, and the same point of language. All are equally dexterous in the game of repartee; even Moses, the honest Israelite, though delivering himself with a sprinkling of the Jewish dialect, is as shrewd and as brilliant in his jokes as the best of them.

The first appearance of Sheridan as a speaker on the floor of parliament, in 1780, did not satisfy the high expectations which his literary reputation had excited. The chief and most striking defect remarked in him, was not, however, of a nature to discourage further attempts. It was a thick and indistinct mode of delivery, which he afterwards corrected, though he never removed it entirely. During the first two years that he was in parliament, he spoke rarely-the most important subjects, even the American question, which called forth so much powerful eloquence, rarely brought out the talents of Sheridan.

"With the same discretion that led him to obtrude himself but seldom on the House, he never spoke at this period but after careful and even verbal preparation. Like most of our great orators at the commencement of their careers, he was in the habit of writing out his speeches before he delivered them; and, though subsequently he scribbled these preparatory sketches upon detached sheets, I find that he began by using for this purpose the same sort of copy-books, which he had employed in the first rough draughts of his plays."—p. 234.

There is perhaps nothing more fatal to success in eloquence, whether of the bar or of the senate, than an original fluency of language, joined to the power of expatiating speciously and volubly on the common places of a subject. The possession of these qualifications, while it gives an air of promise to the young orator on his first appearance, is too apt to make him satisfied with his present measure of skill, and to fix him for ever in a state of hopeless mediocrity. On the contrary, he who has not these advantages, but is possessed of ambition enough to contend with the first difficulties of his art, is led to make up this deficiency by a profound acquaintance with the subjects on which he wishes to speak, and by studying beforehand, to present them in the most striking point of view. Not