SHERIDAN.
It was at the strongly contested election for Westminster, when Sheridan was opposed by Sir Francis Burdett and Lord Cochrane, that the latter, in allusion to the orator's desire of ameliorating his situation on the poll by endeavouring to blend his cause with that of the baronet, characteristically observed, "that the right honourable gentleman sought to have his little skiff taken in tow by the line of battle ship of Sir Francis." Sheridan, in whom the metaphor had awakened the remembrance of the remarkable and successful influence of his speech in the House of Commons on the occasion of the mutiny at the Nore, in calming the irritation of the rebels and reducing them to obedience, in reply to his lordship, bade him "to recollect that it was that little skiff which once brought the whole navy of England safely into port."
The election drew towards its termination, but all the efforts of his friends had proved unavailing to secure Sheridan's return, although his minority was any thing but formidable. The interest that attended the contest had, at its close, become intense; and every spot, whence the candidates might be seen or heard, was crowded in the extreme. A sailor, anxious to acquire a view of the scene of action, after all his exertion to push his way through the crowd had proved fruitless, resorted to the nautical expedient of climbing one of the poles which supported a booth directly in front of the hustings, from the very top of which Jack was enabled to contemplate all that occurred below. As the orator commenced his speech, his eye fell on the elevated mariner, whom he had no sooner observed than he rendered his situation applicable to his own, by stating that "had he but other five hundred voters as upright as the perpendicular gentleman before him, they would yet place him where he was—at the head of the pole."
Often were his addresses to his constituents interrupted by the tumult that arose from the anxiety of the public to get within hearing of him. A person, mounted on horseback, had penetrated to the very centre of the crowd, with more regard for himself than consideration towards others, as the animal he rode, affrighted by the noise, became equally annoying and dangerous to those by whom he was surrounded. The outcry was excessive, and, while some strove to appease the clamour, others urged Sheridan to proceed. "Gentlemen," replied he to the latter, "when the chorus of the horse and his rider is finished, I shall commence."
His good humour was at no time disturbed during the election, although the observations of his noble Caledonian opponent manifested no amicable disposition towards the orator. As it terminated, a mutual friend of the rival candidates expressed a hope that, with the contest, all animosity should cease; and that the gallant officer should drown the memory of differences in a friendly bottle. "With all my heart," said Sheridan, "and will thank his lordship to make it a Scotch pint."
His treatment of Coleridge, the poet, who had submitted a tragedy to his managerial decision, was wholly unmerited by the author, the success of whose piece subsequently so well justified the better claims it had on Sheridan's attention. In the cavern scene, where the silence of the place is presumed to be only broken by the slow dropping of the water from its vault, Sheridan, in reading it to his friends, repeated the words of one of the characters, in a solemn tone, "Drip! drip! drip!" adding, "Why, here's nothing but dripping:" but the story is told by Coleridge himself, in the preface to his tragedy, with that good humour and frankness becoming one sensible of his powers, and conscious that the witty use of an unfortunate expression (were it such) could but little affect the real and numerous beauties of the production.
An author, whose comedies, when returned upon his hands, were generally reduced, by the critical amputation of managers, from the fair proportion of five acts to two, or even one, with the ordinary suggestion of "necessary alteration," &c. complained in wrath and bitterness to Sheridan, who, it is said, attempted to console him, by saying, "Why, my good fellow, what I would advise you is, to present a comedy of a score of acts, and the devil will be in it if five be not saved."
I have heard it said, that, at the first performance of The Critic, Sheridan had adopted, as the representative of Lord Burleigh, an actor whose "looks profound" accorded with his "ignorance;" but who, until then, had only aspired to the livery of the theatre—the placing of chairs, or the presentation of a letter; yet who, in this humble display of histrionic art, generally contrived to commit some egregious blunder. He was remonstrated with, on his choice, by one of the performers, who demonstrated the excessive dulness of apprehension of the would-be Minister of State; and, like other and recent instances in that capacity, his singular aptitude to error, however simple the part he had to enact, or clear and concise the instructions with which it might be accompanied. As Sheridan had planned the character, the face was every thing, and the lengthened, dull, and inexpressive visage of the subject was too strictly ministerial to be lost; and the author would, as he said, "defy him to go wrong," Still his friend was sceptical; nor were his doubts removed by Sheridan's assuring him that the representative of Lord Burleigh "would have only to look wise, shake his head, and hold his tongue;" and he so far persisted as to lay a bet with the author that some capital blunder would nevertheless occur. The wager was accepted, and, in the fulness of his confidence, Sheridan insisted that the actor should not even rehearse the part, and yet that he should get through with it satisfactorily to the public and himself on the night of the first performance. It came. The arbiter of hopes and fears appeared in all the "bearded majesty" of the age of Elizabeth; and, flattered by the preference of the great author, had carefully conned over the following instructions:—"Mr. ——, as Lord Burleigh, will advance from the prompter's side;—proceed to the front of the stage;—fall back to where Mr. G—— stands as Sir Christopher Hatton,—shake his head and exit." The important moment came. With "stately step and slow," Lord Burleigh advanced in face of the audience. "Capital!" exclaimed the gratified author;—with equal correctness he retreated to the side of Sir Christopher, without literally falling back, which Sheridan had for a moment doubted might be the case. "Good! a lucky escape though." half faltered the anxious poet. "Now! now!" he continued, with eager delight at having got so far so well; but, what was his horror, when his unlucky pupil, instead of shaking his own blundering head, in strict but unfortunate interpretation of his orders, took that of Sir Christopher within his hands, shook it long and manfully, and then walked off with a look of exultation at having so exactly complied with his lesson.—New Monthly Magazine.