“Bath.
“MY DEAREST ELIZA,
“We are all in the greatest anxiety about Sheridan’s play, — though I do not think there is the least doubt of its succeeding. I was told last night that it was his own story, and therefore called “The Rivals;” but I do not give any credit to this intelligence….
“I am told he will get at least 700l. for his play.”
“Bath, January, 1775.
“It is impossible to tell you what pleasure we felt at the receipt of Sheridan’s last letter, which confirmed what we had seen in the newspapers of the success of his play. The knowing ones were very much disappointed, as they had so very bad an opinion of its success. After the first night we were indeed all very fearful that the audience would go very much prejudiced against it. But now, there can be no doubt of its success, as it has certainly got through more difficulties than any comedy which has not met its doom the first night. I know you have been very busy in writing for Sheridan, — I don’t mean copying, but composing; — it’s true, indeed; — you must not contradict me when I say you wrote the much admired epilogue to the Rivals. How I long to read it! What makes it more certain is, that my father guessed it was yours the first time he saw it praised in the paper.”
This statement respecting the epilogue would, if true, deprive Sheridan of one of the fairest leaves of his poetic crown. It appears, however, to be but a conjecture hazarded at the moment, and proves only the high idea entertained of Mrs. Sheridan’s talents by her own family. The cast of the play at Bath, and its success there and elsewhere, are thus mentioned in these letters of Miss Linley:
“Bath, February 18, 1775.
“What shall I say of The Rivals! — a compliment must naturally be expected; but really it goes so far beyond any thing I can say in its praise, that I am afraid my modesty must keep me silent. When you and I meet I shall be better able to explain myself, and tell you how much I am delighted with it. We expect to have it here very soon: — it is now in rehearsal. You pretty well know the merits of our principal performers: — I’ll show you how it is cast.
Sir Anthony Mr. Edwin.
Captain Absolute Mr. Didier.
Falkland Mr. Dimond.
(A new actor of great merit, and a sweet figure.)
Sir Lucius Mr. Jackson.
Acres Mr. Keasberry.
Fag Mr. Brunsdon.
Mrs. Malaprop Mrs. Wheeler.
Miss Lydia Miss Wheeler.
(Literally, a very pretty romantic girl, of seventeen.)
Julia Mrs. Didier
Lucy Mrs. Brett.
There, Madam, do not you think we shall do your Rivals some justice? I’m convinced it won’t be done better any where out of London. I don’t think Mrs. Mattocks can do Julia very well.”
“Bath, March 9, 1775.
“You will know by what you see enclosed in this frank my reason for not answering your letter sooner was, that I waited the success of Sheridan’s play in Bath; for, let me tell you, I look upon our theatrical tribunal, though not in quantity, in quality as good as yours, and I do not believe there was a critic in the whole city that was not there. But, in my life, I never saw any thing go off with such uncommon applause. I must first of all inform you that there was a very full house: — the play was performed inimitably well; nor did I hear, for the honor of our Bath actors, one single prompt the whole night; but I suppose the poor creatures never acted with such shouts of applause in their lives, so that they were incited by that to do their best. They lost many of Malaprop’s good sayings by the applause: in short, I never saw or heard any thing like it; — before the actors spoke, they began their clapping. There was a new scene of the N. Parade, painted by Mr. Davis, and a most delightful one it is, I assure you. Every body says, — Bowers in particular, — that yours in town is not so good. Most of the dresses were entirely new, and very handsome. On the whole, I think Sheridan is vastly obliged to poor dear Keasberry for getting it up so well. We only wanted a good Julia to have made it quite complete. You must know that it was entirely out of Mrs. Didier’s style of playing: but I never saw better acting than Keasberry’s, — so all the critics agreed.”
“Bath, August 22d, 1775.
“Tell Sheridan his play has been acted at Southampton: — above a hundred people were turned away the first night. They say there never was any thing so universally liked. They have very good success at Bristol, and have played The Rivals several times: — Miss Barsanti, Lydia, and Mrs. Canning, Julia.”
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 wherever it appears, is a task of criticism that will hardly be thought necessary. With much less wit, it exhibits perhaps more humor 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 flavor is very strongly brought out; and the wayward, captious jealousy of Falkland, though so highly colored in his own representation of it, is productive of no incident answerable to such an announcement: — the imposture which he practises 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 humor. 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. Among the former kind is the following elaborate conceit: —
“Falk. Has Lydia changed her mind? I should have thought her duty and inclination would now have pointed to the same object.
“Abs. Ay, just as the eyes of a person who squints: when her love-eye was fixed on me, t’other — her eye of duty — was finely obliqued: but when duty bade her point that the same way, off turned t’other on a swivel, and secured its retreat with a frown.”
This, though ingenious, is far too labored — and of that false taste by which sometimes, in his graver style, he was seduced into the display of second-rate ornament, the following speeches of Julia afford specimens: —
“Then on the bosom of your wedded Julia, you may lull your keen regret to slumbering; while virtuous l
ove, with a cherub’s hand, shall smooth the brow of upbraiding thought, and pluck the thorn from compunction.”
Again:— “When hearts deserving happiness would unite their fortunes, virtue would crown them with an unfading garland of modest hurtless flowers: but ill-judging passion will force the gaudier rose into the wreath, whose thorn offends them when its leaves are dropt.”
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 humor 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.
A copy of The Rivals has fallen into my hands, which once belonged to Tickell, the friend and brother-in-law of Sheridan, and on the margin of which I find written by him in many places his opinion of particular parts of the dialogue. [Footnote: These opinions are generally expressed in two or three words, and are, for the most part, judicious. Upon Mrs. Malaprop’s quotation from Shakspeare, “Hesperian curls,” &c. he writes, “overdone — fitter for farce than comedy.” Acres’s classification of oaths, “This we call the oath referential,” &c. he pronounces to be “very good, but above the speaker’s capacity.” Of Julia’s speech, “Oh woman, how true should be your judgment, when your resolution is so weak!” he remarks, “On the contrary, it seems to be of little consequence whether any person’s judgment be weak or not, who wants resolution to act according to it.”] He has also prefixed to it, as coming from Sheridan, the following humorous dedication, which, I take for granted, has never before met the light, and which the reader will perceive, by the allusions in it to the two Whig ministries, could not have been written before the year 1784: —
“DEDICATION TO IDLENESS.
“MY DEAR FRIEND,
“If it were necessary to make any apology for this freedom, I know you would think it a sufficient one, that I shall find it easier to dedicate my play to you than to any other person. There is likewise a propriety in prefixing your name to a work begun entirely at your suggestion, and finished under your auspices; and I should think myself wanting in gratitude to you, if I did not take an early opportunity of acknowledging the obligations which I owe you. There was a time — though it is so long ago that I now scarcely remember it, and cannot mention it without compunction — but there was a time, when the importunity of parents, and the example of a few injudicious young men of my acquaintance, had almost prevailed on me to thwart my genius, and prostitute my abilities by an application to serious pursuits. And if you had not opened my eyes to the absurdity and profligacy of such a perversion of the best gifts of nature, I am by no means clear that I might not have been a wealthy merchant or an eminent lawyer at this very moment. Nor was it only on my first setting out in life that I availed myself of a connection with you, though perhaps I never reaped such signal advantages from it as at that critical period. I have frequently since stood in need of your admonitions, and have always found you ready to assist me — though you were frequently brought by your zeal for me into new and awkward situations, and such as you were at first, naturally enough, unwilling to appear in. Amongst innumerable other instances, I cannot omit two, where you afforded me considerable and unexpected relief, and in fact converted employments, usually attended by dry and disgusting business, into scenes of perpetual merriment and recreation. I allude, as you will easily imagine, to those cheerful hours which I spent in the Secretary of State’s office and the Treasury, during all which time you were my inseparable companion, and showed me such a preference over the rest of my colleagues, as excited at once their envy and admiration. Indeed, it was very natural for them to repine at your having taught me a way of doing business, which it was impossible for them to follow — it was both original and inimitable.
“If I were to say here all that I think of your excellencies, I might be suspected of flattery; but I beg leave to refer you for the test of my sincerity to the constant tenor of my life and actions; and shall conclude with a sentiment of which no one can dispute the truth, nor mistake the application, — that those persons usually deserve most of their friends who expect least of them.
“I am, &c. &c. &c.,
“R. B. SHERIDAN.”
The celebrity which Sheridan had acquired, as the chivalrous lover of Miss Linley, was of course considerably increased by the success of The Rivals; and, gifted as he and his beautiful wife were with all that forms the magnetism of society, — the power to attract, and the disposition to be attracted, — their life, as may easily be supposed, was one of gaiety both at home and abroad. Though little able to cope with the entertainments of their wealthy acquaintance, her music and the good company which his talents drew around him, were an ample repayment for the more solid hospitalities which they received. Among the families visited by them was that of Mr. Coote (Purden), at whose musical parties Mrs. Sheridan frequently sung, accompanied occasionally by the two little daughters [Footnote: The charm of her singing, as well as her fondness for children, are interestingly described in a letter to my friend Mr. Rogers, from one of the most tasteful writers of the present day:— “Hers was truly ‘a voice as of the cherub choir,’ and she was always ready to sing without any pressing. She sung here a great deal, and to my infinite delight; but what had a particular charm was, that she used to take my daughter, then a child, on her lap, and sing a number of childish songs with such a playfulness of manner, and such a sweetness of look and voice, as was quite enchanting.”] of Mr. Coote, who were the originals of the children introduced into Sir Joshua Reynolds’s portrait of Mrs. Sheridan as St. Cecilia. It was here that the Duchess of Devonshire first met Sheridan; and, as I have been told, long hesitated as to the propriety of inviting to her house two persons of such equivocal rank in society, as he and his wife were at that time considered. Her Grace 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.
In gratitude, it is said, to Clinch, the actor, for the seasonable reinforcement which he had brought to The Rivals, Mr. Sheridan produced this year a farce called “St. Patrick’s Day, or the Scheming Lieutenant,” which was acted on the 2d of May, and had considerable success.
Though we must not look for the usual point of Sheridan in this piece, where the hits of pleasantry are performed with the broad end or mace of his wit, there is yet a quick circulation of humor through the dialogue, — and laughter, the great end of farce, is abundantly achieved by it. The moralizing of Doctor Rosy, and the dispute between the justice’s wife and her daughter, as to the respective merits of militia-men and regulars, are highly comic: —
“Psha, you know, Mamma, I hate militia officers; a set of dunghill cocks with spurs on — heroes scratched off a church door. No, give me the bold upright youth, who makes love to-day, and has his head shot off to- morrow. Dear! to think how the sweet fellows sleep on the ground, and fight in silk stockings and lace ruffles.
“Mother. Oh barbarous! to want a husband that may wed you to-day and be sent the Lord knows where before night; then in a twelve-month, perhaps, to have him come like a Colossus, with one leg at New York and the other at Chelsea Hospital.”
Sometimes, too, there occurs a phrase or sentence, which might be sworn to, as from the pen of Sheridan, any where. Thus, in the very opening: —
“1st Soldier. I say you are wrong; we should all speak together, each for himself, and all at once, that we may be heard the better.
“2d Soldier. Right, Jack, we’ll
argue in platoons.”
Notwithstanding the great success of his first attempts in the drama, we find politics this year renewing its claims upon his attention, and tempting him to enter into the lists with no less an antagonist than Dr. Johnson. That eminent man had just published his pamphlet on the American question, entitled “Taxation no Tyranny;” — a work whose pompous sarcasms on the Congress of Philadelphia, when compared with what has happened since, dwindle into puerilities, and show what straws upon the great tide of events are even the mightiest intellects of this world. Some notes and fragments, found among the papers of Mr. Sheridan, prove that he had it in contemplation to answer this pamphlet; and, however inferior he might have been in style to his practised adversary, he would at least have had the advantage of a good cause, and of those durable materials of truth and justice, which outlive the mere workmanship, however splendid, of talent. Such arguments as the following, which Johnson did not scruple to use, are, by the haughtiness of their tone and thought, only fit for the lips of autocrats: —
“When they apply to our compassion, by telling us that they are to be carried from their own country to be tried for certain offences, we are not so ready to pity them, as to advise them not to offend. While they are innocent, they are safe.
“If they are condemned unheard, it is because there is no need of a trial. The crime is manifest and notorious,” &c. &c.
It appears from the fragments of the projected answer, that Johnson’s pension was one of the points upon which Mr. Sheridan intended to assail him. The prospect of being able to neutralize the effects of his zeal, by exposing the nature of the chief incentive from which it sprung, was so tempting, perhaps, as to overrule any feelings of delicacy, that might otherwise have suggested the illiberality of such an attack. The following are a few of the stray hints for this part of his subject: —
“It is hard when a learned man thinks himself obliged to commence politician. — Such pamphlets will be as trifling and insincere as the venal quit-rent of a birth-day ode. [Footnote: On another scrap of paper I find “the miserable quit-rent of an annual pamphlet.” It was his custom in composition (as will be seen by many other instances) thus to try the same thought in a variety of forms and combinations, in order to see in which it would yield the greatest produce of wit.]
Delphi Complete Works of Richard Brinsley Sheridan Page 104
