Actor, was the eldest son of Dr. Thomas Sheridan, the subject of the preceding article, and was born in 1721, at Quilca, a place which to future times will acquire a degree of importance, as the residence of Swift, and the birth-place of most of Mr. Sheridan’s family, particularly of the author of the “School for Scandal”. Under his father, who was the most eminent schoolmaster of his time, he received the first rudiments of his education, and had the honour to be noticed for his proficiency in literature by his godfather. At the age of thirteen, in 1734, he was admitted of the foundation at Westminster school, at which seminary he continued two years, and was by pure merit elected a king’s scholar. His father was then so poor, that he could not add £14 to enable the boy to finish the year; and was forced to recall him to Dublin, at the university of which the doctor had friends, and procured his son’s entrance on the foundation, where he took his degree in arts. In the year 1738, he lost his father, and at that juncture it was his intention to follow’ his steps, and devote himself to the education of youth, which, he observes “he ever esteemed to be one of the most useful and honourable stations in life.” - Having his {507} father’s reputation to build upon, and some very advantageous proposals made to him upon that head, he had the most flattering prospect of success, and would certainly have entered upon the office immediately after taking his degree of master of arts, but for one objection. He saw a deficiency in the early part of education, that the study of the English language was neglected, and it could not be reduced to any rule, unless the art of speaking was revived. The revival of the long lost art of oratory became therefore the first necessary step towards his design. To obtain this there was but one way open; which was the stage; accordingly he made his appearance at Smock-alley theatre, January 29,1743, in the character of Richard the Third, with distinguished encouragement and applause. His theatrical career was, however, soon interrupted; for, in the month of June, he was obliged both to defend his own conduct, and repel the attacks of T. Cibber, who took an opportunity of involving him in a controversy, which was carried on with dignity and spirit by Sheridan, and with flippancy and pertness by Cibber. The cause of the dispute arose from the robe in which Cato used to be performed, being taken away by the manager, and without it Mr. Sheridan refused to proceed in his part. On applying to Cibber for his advice; he was treated with impertinent negligence; and continuing his refusal, Cibber went on the stage, and offered to read the part of Syphax. This offer was accepted by the audience; but Mr. Sheridan considering it an officious and insidious interference, appealed to the town, and was answered by Cibber, to whom a reply was printed, which again was followed by a rejoinder. In the progress of this controversy, much virulence was displayed, and much abuse poured forth. Both parties lost their temper and probably neither had reason in the end to applaud is own conduct. Cibber, or a friend of his, collected all the papers published, and printed them in a pamphlet; entitled, “The Buskin and Sock; being controversial Letters between Mr. Thomas Sheridan, tragedian, and Mr. Theophilus {508} Cibber, comedian, 12mo, which seems to have ended the dispute. The next year, 1744, Mr. Sheridan came to England, and appeared at Covent-garden theatre, March 81, in the character of Hamlet, and at the commencement of the winter season engaged at Drury-lane, where a sort of competition or rivalship was set up between him and Mr. Garrick, which occasioned a quarrel. On his return to Dublin, he undertook the management of the theatre there; and Mr. Garrick, notwithstanding the quarrel, was invited over. During that season Mr. Garrick, Mr. Sheridan, Mr. Barry, and Miss Bellamy, frequently acted in the same plays; yet it is remarkable, that with such a company, and in a Parliament winter, with all their strength united, they were not able to exhibit plays oftener than two nights in a week, and could seldom ensure good houses to both those nights; and that the receipt of the whole season did not exceed £3,400 Mr. Sheridan continued in the management of the theatre, which before that time had been conducted in a very disorderly manner; and the abuses had continued so long as to be evidently a very arduous, if not impracticable task to reform. He was, however, determined to attempt it; and an event soon happened which afforded him the opportunity of enforcing some new regulations.

On the 19th of January, 1746-7, a young gentleman inflamed with wine, went into the pit, and climbing over the spikes of the stage, very soon made his way to the green-room, where he addressed one of the actresses in such indecent terms, aloud, as made them all fly to their dressing rooms. He pursued one of them thither, but being repulsed by the door, he made such a noise there as disturbed the business of the scenes. Miss Bellamy, whom he pursued, was then wanted on the stage but could not come out for fear. Mr. Sheridan (who was in the character of Aesop) went to the door, attended by the servants and a guard, and ordered them to take that gentleman away, and conduct him to the pit, from whence he came. This was done without the least bustle or obstruction on the part of the gentleman; but when he arrived in the pit, he seized a basket from one of the orange-women, and when the manager came on the stage, took the best aim he could at him with the oranges; one of which taking place, Mr. Sheridan addressed the audience (which happened to be but thin that night) for protection. As there were some gentlemen in the pit who were acquainted with the rioter, they {509} silenced him with some difficulty, but not before several abusive names had passed from him, such as scoundrel and rascal: and Mr. Sheridan was so much disconcerted as to say, “I am as good a gentleman as you are”; which words were the next day altered thus, “I am as good a gentleman as any in the house.” After the play, this young hero went out of the pit, and found his way to Mr. Sheridan’s dressing room, where to his face, before the servants, he called him the same abusive names, which, of course, provoked him to give him some blows, which the gentleman took very patiently; and by means of another falsehood (that Sheridan’s servants in the room held him while their master beat him) the club of his companions, to whom he went that night with Ms broken nose and other grievances, were so animated and incensed that a scoundrel player should beat gentleman, that a party was directly formed - a powerful fighting party, - end the next day all persons were threatened openly in every coffee-house that dared to look as if they inclined to take the part of Sheridan. His name being in the bills some days after to perform Horatio, several letters, cards, and messages were sent to him, warning him not to leave his house that evening, and to take particular care to be well guarded even there. He followed this friendly advice; and when Mr. Dyer went ou the stage to apologise for his not performing the part, and to acquaint the audience with his reasons, at that instant about fifty of the party, with the young hero at their head, rose in the pit, and, climbing over the spikes on the stage, ran directly to the green-room; from thence to all the dressing rooms; broke open those that were locked; ran up to the wardrobe and thrust their swords into all the chests and presses of cloths, by way of feeling, they said, if Sheridan was concealed there. After many of these violences a party went off to his house; but finding he had provided for their reception, they thought proper to retire. This transaction happened on a Thursday night; and from that time for several nights the theatre was shut up; but during the interval the friends of each side employed themselves in defending and attacking each other from the press. The spirit of the most respectable people was by this time roused to oppose the licentiousness of the rioters. The chief inhabitants began at this juncture to assemble, and resolve to encourage and protect the manager. Several citizens, who seldom were seen in the theatre, were so sensible of the advantages and importance of a well regulated stage, that they declared to Mr. Sheridan and his friends, that they would now more than ever appear there, and doubted not being able to protect the manager and the actors in general in the discharge of their duty. With assurances of this kind, and a consciousness of his being in the right, Mr. Sheridan consented to the performance of Richard. The house fitted earlier than usual. The play opened with great quietness, but at the latter end of the first act, when Richard appeared, a confused noise was heard in different parts, but chiefly from the boxes, of “submission - a submission suhmission - off - off – off!” Mr. Sheridan advanced with respectful bows, but was prevented speaking by louder and more distinct sounds of a “no submission - no submission - go on with the play.” It was in this conjuncture that the celebrated Dr. Lucas rose up in the pit, an asserted the rights of {510} the audience, and the freedom of the stage. He expressed his astonishment and detestation of men’s bringing their private quarrels with managers or players into the theatre, and such he apprehended the present can to be; but since the dispute was introduced, it must, like other disputes there, be determined by the majority. He presumed every sober person in the house came to receive the entertainment promised in the bills, of which he payed his money at the door. The actors then, he observed, were the servants of the audience, and under their protection during that performance; and he looked upon every insult or interruption given to them in the discharge of their duty as offered to the audience. He apprehended the matter in dispute was no breach of the duty of the managers or actors cognizable by any persons present; but whether it was so, or thought otherwise by the house, the question might be easily determined. He therefore moved, that those who were for preserving the decency and freedom of the stage, should distinguish themselves by the holding up of hands; judging that when they should come to know their numbers and superiority, they would silence or turn out their opponents. He was heard with great respect, and saluted with shouts of applause; but on the division the numbers were so great against the rioters, and withal appeared so animated for action, that the minority suddenly went off, and left the performance of that night in quiet. Nothing was yet done decisively, but each party by this time was more exasperated against the other. At length matters came to a crisis. There was an annual play appointed before the riot began, the “Fair Penitent,” for the benefit of the Hospital for Incurables; and the governors, who were all persona of consequence, demanded the performance of their benefit play, and sent the manager word (who was to perform the part of Horatio) that they would take upon them to defend him that night; resting assured no set of men would oppose a charity play, especially as all the ladies of quality exerted their interest, and were to honour it with their presence. The bills were accordingly posted up, and the governors went early to the theatre with their white wands: the boxes and pit would have been filled with ladies, if about thirty gentlemen had not taken early possession of the middle of two or three benches near the spikes of the orchestra. There were above a hundred ladies seated on the stage, and when the curtain drew up nothing could equal the brilliant appearance of the house. At the entrance Mr. Sheridan (who had the honour of being ushered in by the governors) those thirty men, all armed, rose up in the pit and ordered him off; and they were joined by some few placed in both galleries. Mr. Sheridan withdrew, and then violent disputes and threatening) began between the governors on the stage and the gentlemen in the pit; and something very like challenges passed between several of them, as all the persona on both sides ware publicly known. Among the governors was a student of the college in his bachelor’s gown, who behaved with* some warmth against those who opposed the play, and a gentleman (near the spikes) in the pit threw an apple at him, called him scoundrel, and (as he declared) said they were all a pack of scoundrels. This exasperated the college, and members of it were very eager to take their revenge, which in the end {511} they obtained the next day. The play, however, was not represented. the play, however, was not represented, and riot and confusion reigned during the whole night. The lord justice now thought proper to order the master of revels to shut up the theatre by his authority, which was accordingly done. The young gentleman who began the disturbance was taken up for assaulting Mr. Sheridan, and for mischief done at the theatre, in the dressing rooms, and the wardrobe; and the manager was indicted for assaulting and beating the gentleman in the dressing room. When then time of trial drew near, the Lord Chief Justice Marlay sent for the High Sheriff, and directed him to make out and bring a list of sufficient and anle jurors to his lordship. This was done to prevent any unfair practices being used. On the day appointed for the trials, that of Mr. Sheridan came on first; when it appearing that the gentleman gave the manager such provoking abusive language in his dressing room as compelled him to beat him out of it, and that no other person touched him, the jory acqaitted the prisoner without going out of the box. The former prosecutor, now become the culprit, than appeared at the bar, and the facts charged on him were proved by many witnesses. In the course of the trial Mr. Sheridan was called, and during his examination one of the counsel on the part of the prisoner got up and said, “He wanted to see a curiosity. I have often seen (continued he) a gentleman soldier, and a gentleman tailor, but I have never seen a gentleman player.” Mr. Sheridan bowed, and said, “Sir, I hope you see one now.” The result of the trial was, that the gentleman was found guilty, and the sentence passed upon him was a fine of five hnndred pounds, aad three months imprisonment. After he had remained in confinement a week, he applied to Mr. Sheridan for his interference in his behalf, who instantly solicited the government to relinquish the fine which was granted him. He then became solicitor and bail himself to the Court of King’s Bench for his enlargement, and succeeded in his application. Thus Sheridan emancipated the stage from the abject and ignominious state in which it existed previous his connection with it; and from this time regularity, order, and decency, were introduced. Among other circumstances which this event gave rise to, it was the means of his becoming acquainted with the lade whom he shortly afterwards married. This was Miss Chamberlain, who was born in Ireland, in the year 1724, but descended from a good English family, which had removed thither. She was the grand-daughter of Sir Oliver Chamberlaine, and, during the controversy occasioned by the riot, wrote a small pamphlet in the defence of the manager. So well-timed a work exciting the attention of Mr. Sheridan, he procured himself to be introducted to his fair patroness, to whom he was soon after married. She was a person of the most amiable character in every relation of life, with the most engaging manners. With here he lived in great domestic harmony above twenty years. In the management of the theatre. Mr. Sheridan now passed several years, with no greater variety than usually attends so complicated a machine; - some broils with performers, and some complaints, but more approbation from the public. Over his performers he soon obtained a complete ascendancy, from the firmness of his conduct as well as the impartiality of it. {512} His success was various: in some seasons, the theatre produced consider able profit; in others, his gains were but small. In this manner, however, he continued, with the prospect of a firm establishment fir life, and the means of a competency, if not affluence, until another storm made shipwreck of his fortune, and drove him entirely from his port, to take refuge in England. For some time before this period, he had instituted a club, the members of which were in number about fifty or sixty persons; chiefly lords and members of parliament, who were invited to dine together in the manager’s apartment in the theatre, no female being admitted but Mrs. Woffington, who was placed in a great chair at the head of the table, ant elected president for the season. This club was begun without any party intention on the side of the manager, but, by the means of Mrs. Woffington, was, in 1751, metamorphosed from its original design into one of a political nature: the conversation and general toasts of this weekly assembly, which were what might be called anti-patriotic, soon became the talk of the town; and the manager, of course, was severely abused for being the supporter of the society, as he most certainly and effectually was, when he was the person who paid for it all. At this critical and dangerous juncture, it is not to be wondered at that this assembly of courtiers publicly supported by the manager, who being also the principal actor, was consequently at all times within the immediate resentment of the provoked party, should become the object of revenge. The patriots of the day resolved to watch for the first opportunity to destroy him, and an occuriaa soon offered.

The tragedy of “Mahomet” had been for some time singled out by the manager to be revived; the chief parts were written out and cast the winter preceding, in the following manner: Palmira, Mrs. Woffington; Zaphne, Mr. Sheridan; and Alcanor, Mr. Digges. On February 23, 1754, the night of performance, the pit was filled very soon with the leaden and chiefs of the country party; and when Digges spoke the following speech: “If, ye powers divine,” &c. (act I. scene 1,) the moment he had finished it, all the party in the pit roared out entire; which was continued with such violence, that the actor, after discovering due astonishment in his countenance, very readily spoke the whole speech over again, which was most remarkably applauded by the audience. The fine scenes of Zaphne and Palmira, which are the best in the play, and were pu famed by their principal and usually applauded actor, this night passed unnoticed, and all the applause fell on the character of Alcanor. Although it would have been more prudent from the appearances then exhibited, to have laid aside the play for the present, yet the manager unfortunately yielded to a request made him to perform “Mahomet” a second thus; and contented himself with ordering a general summons to all the company to meet him in the green-room on the Friday morning, the day before the play was to be acted. When the company were all assembled, be entered the room with a paper in his hand, and read them a lecture on the duties of an actor, particularly respecting his conduct to the public; and proceeded to shew, in the most glaring colours, that the actor who prostituted himself to the wanton humour of an audience, brought inevitable {513} disgrace not only on himself, but on all his brethren. Mr. Digges rose up and said, it was very obvious that this lecture on the duties of an actor was levelled at him; that he was the person who had brought that disgrace upon himself and his brethren; but as the same play was to be performed the following night, and the same demand from the audience was likely to fall on him, he desired to know what were the manager’s commands in regard to his conduct. Mr. Sheridan’s reply was, that he should give him no directions, but leave him to do as he thought proper. Digges then said, “Sir, if I should comply with the demand of the audience, and repeat the speech as I did before, am I to incur your censure for doing it The manager replied, “Not at all; I leave you to act in that matter as yon think proper.” The night following, March 2, was the performance. The pit was full as soon as the doors were open, the house crowded; and this remarkable speech in the first scene, as soon as ever it was out of the mouth of the actor, he was called upon to repeat, with the same vehemence as on the first night. The actor seemed startled, and stood some time motionless: at last, at the continued fierceness of the encores, he made a motion to be heard, and when silence was obtained, he said, “It would give him the highest pleasure imaginable to comply with the request of the audience, but he had his private reasons for begging they would be so good as to excuse him, as his compliance would be greatly injurious to him.” On his saying that, they immediately called out, Sheridan! Sheridan! the manager! the manager! and this cry soon became universal throughout all parts of the house. After some time Mr. Digges left the stage; and the uproar continuing, Mr. Sheridan (who stood behind the scenes) ordered the curtain down, and sent on the prompter to acquaint the audience that they were ready to perform the play, if they were suffered to go on in quiet; if not, that they were at liberty to take their money again. The prompter was not heard, but obliged to withdraw. Mr. Sheridan then said, with some agitation, “They have no right to call upon me; I’ll not obey their call; I’ll go up to my room and undress myself,” and he went up. Some of his best friends left the pit and boxes, and went to his dressing room after him, and entreated him not to undress, but to go down and endeavour to pacify an audience that knew he was there, and must be enraged at his refusal to appear before them. But at these reasons and these entreaties of his friends he remained unmoved: and being strongly possessed with the notion that personal mischief was intended him, he got into a chair, went home, and left the house in that uproar and confusion. Mrs. Woffington was then persuaded to appear before them, to see if a fine woman could assuage the fury of the many- headed monster; but she was not heard. Digges was the seeming favourite and reigning orator. He was desired to go on, and to assure the audience Mr. Sheridan had laid him under no injunction not to repeat the speech and therefore could not on that account have incurred their displeasure. Digges went on, moved to be heard, and a profound silence ensued; he repeated what he had been desired, but in vain; as they had called so long for Sheridan, they would insist on having him before them, and his answering for himself. At last, when they were told he was positively gone home, {514} they insisted on his being sent for, and added, they would wait patiently an hour, as he was known to live at some distance; and accordingly they sat down quietly to amuse themselves. Messengers were dispatched to the manager to acquaint him with the resolution of the house, but no arguments could prevail on him to return back: and when the hour was expired they renewed their call, and after continuing it some time, two of their leaders (persons of gravity and condition) rose from the pit and went off over the boxes; that was the agreed signal. A youth in the pit then stood up, and cried out, “God Bless his Majesty King George, with three huzzas”; and at the end of the last huzza they began to demolish the house, and the audience part was all in pieces in five minutes. After this execution, some moved to fire the house, others to attack the wardrobe. Accordingly a party leaped upon the stage, and with their swords and other instruments cut and slashed the curtain, which was finely painted, and cost a great sum of money; broke and cut to pieces all the scenes within their reach; and some attempts were made towards the wardrobe, but finding that place well defended, they retired; several who went off through the box-room dragged the grate full of burning coals into the middle of the room, laid some of the broken doors of the boxes upon it, and left them there. In this condition they were found, and time enough to prevent the intended mischief.

Thus ended this memorable riot, which operated very fatally towards the fortune of Mr. Sheridan. Disgusted with the public behaviour, and not much satisfied with his theatrical situation, he published his case, and after letting his theatre for two years, he embarked for England. Here he immediately entered into a negotiation with Mr. Rich, and (being desirous of compelling Mr. Barry to go over to Dublin) hastily made an engagement with him for a share of the profits on such nights as he should perform, without having weighed circumstances, or properly guarded against events. His first appearance was in the character of Hamlet, October 24. He also produced an alteration, by himself, of “Coriolanus,” formed out of the plays of Shakspeare and Thomson, in which he introduced a magnificent spectacle of a Roman ovation. He performed also Cato, Œdipus, Richard III, Shylock, (Portia, Mrs. Woffington, October 30,) Othello, (Iago, Mr. Ryan,) Macbeth, (Lady Macbeth, Mrs. Woffington, November 16,) Romeo, (Juliet, Miss Bellamy, November 20,) and several other characters; but his gains, it is imagined, fell short of what he hoped for. As the successor of Barry, and the rival of {515} Garrick, he by no means answered the public expectations. With many peculiarities in his manner, not of the pleasing kind, nature seemed to have forbidden him by her parsimony ever to have become a popular performer. Even those who were willing to praise, and could with justice applaud his skill and judgment, generally came away without but that complete satisfaction which was to be found at Drury-lane theatre, where Garrick and Nature carried every thing before them. These circumstances all combining, it will be no surprise to know, that at the end of the season his engagement was not renewed. The leisure he now found naturally led him to recur to his former scheme of education. In April 1756, he wrote to Mr. Lee a proposal for engaging him for the ensuing season in Dublin, and therein said, “I have been long weary of the stage, and as I have a much more important point in view, am determined to quit it as soon as possible; and no consideration should have induced me to undertake it this year, but the want of a proper person to supply my place.” A proper person, however, it was difficult to find, and the term of the lease which he had let being now expired, and the minds of the people of Dublin by this time inclining to receive him again with favour, he resolved upon returning to his native country, and resuming the management of the theatre again; but in the execution of this design unexpected difficulties arose. At the beginning of this season he also met with a mortification, to which he was obliged to submit, however reluctantly. Previous to his appearance, an apology for his former conduct was demanded by the public, and with so much earnestness, that it became necessary to promise it unconditionally. The night was accordingly fixed, and every part of the house crowded soon after the doors were open. When the curtain drew up he advanced to the centre of the stage with a paper in his hand, fearing (in that unavoidable confusion) to trust entirely to his memory. It was the opinion of some of the best judges, that no man within their observation ever appeared before the public with so much {516} address, or spoke to the passions with such propriety. Tears gushed from the eyes of several of his male auditors. After the apology was over, and his pardon had been signed by the loudest acclamation, he had begun to retire; he advanced again, and with broken, faltering accents, spoke as follows “Your goodness to me, at this important crisis, has so deeply affected me, that I want powers to express myself: my future actions shall shew my gratitude.” He appeared a few nights after in the character of Hamlet, to a crowded audience, and received the utmost applause. The same success attended most of his principal characters; but, though he brought the celebrated dancers from the opera in London, Bugiani and Marenesi, to perform that season, at a great price, yet the audiences began to slacken for want of a capital female actress. Having been disappointed in the abilities of a young lady new to the stage, whom he had engaged in London, and also of the assistance he hoped to have found in Mr. Lee, he was obliged to call in every auxiliary that offered, to help a failing season. At the end of it Mr. Foote came to Dublin, and contributed in some measure, to conclude the year in a better manner than was looked for, though still unprosperously. During Mr. Barry’s residence in Dublin, he had been prevailed upon to undertake the erecting and managing a new theatre on a larger and more extensive scale, in the execution of which scheme he had prevailed on Mr. Woodward, then a performer of great reputation at Drury-lane, to unite with him. Mr. Sheridan made overtures to Mr. Barry to part with his theatrical interest to him; but Barry had engaged too far to recede. Sheridan then applied to Parliament to stop his opponents, by granting him a monopoly; he recommended a wild idea of grafting his plan of education upon the management of the theatre; and he proposed to give up his interest to the public upon certain terms - that it might be conducted for the public advantage, something like the French stage. These proposals, though enforced with warmth, and not without argument, made {517} no impression; they were neglected by the majority; the new theatre was proceeded upon, and, as Mr. Sheridan had predicted, all the parties concerned in it were ruined. In the season which began in October 1757, Mr. Sheridan was obliged to continue as before, both actor and manager; but having the assistance of Mrs. Fitzhenry in the capital female characters, he was more prosperous than in the preceding year. He also met with much encouragement from the Duke of Bedford, the then lord-lieutenant of Ireland. The favour he experienced from this nobleman, encouraged him to hope for success in his application to Parliament. But finding, at length, that he was to expect nothing from his solicitations, he determined’ to oppose his enemies on their own ground, with the best company which could be collected against them. On December 6, 1757, he summoned together a very respectable and numerous audience of the nobility and gentry of Ireland, at the music hall, in Fishamble-street, before whom he pronounced an oration, in which he, with considerable address and ability, set forth the errors of the then modes of education, the advantages which would attend the adopting his proposed improvements to individuals, and to the community at large. Many of the first characters in the kingdom for rank and learning were present. He was heard with respect and attention, and received the plaudits which were due to the novelty of his plan, and the intrinsic merits of it. Fruitless though his efforts were to suppress the new adventurers, he persevered, as was his custom, with great steadiness until every glimmer of hope had vanished. He then found it necessary to muster his forces to oppose them in the ensuing season, 1758-9. He accordingly offered terms to Mrs. Fitzhenry, who, hesitating to accept them, he rashly declared against entering into articles with any one of the company; the consequence was the immediate loss of Mr. King and Mr. Dexter, two performers of great use to the theatre. He then saw his mistake, altered his resolution, and signed a general article with all his company, and seemed determined on a resolute {518} opposition. He engaged Mr. Digges, and Mrs. Ward, Theophilus Cibber, and Maddox the wire dancer (the two last of whom were cast away going to Dublin), and also acceded to the terms proposed by Mrs. Fitzhenry. This lady, however, by this time began to entertain doubts of the payment of her salary, and demanded security for it; which demand, unprecedented, on a manager, so much incensed Mr. Sheridan, that he wrote a letter immediately to shew his resentment, and at the same time expressed his doubts of his being able to be in Dublin that season, as he had intended. This caused Mrs. Fitzhenry to engage with the rival theatre. The remainder of this very short season was productive of nothing but disgrace and disappointment; loss succeeded loss - the receipts fell short - the performers and tradesmen were unpaid - and on the 27th of April, 1759, the theatre on Mr. Sheridan’s account was entirely closed. During this period, however, Mr. Sheridan was not idle. He had composed his lectures on elocution, and began to deliver them in London, at Oxford, at Cambridge, and other places, with very great success. At Cambridge, on the 16th of March, 1759, he was honoured with the same degree he had received at Dublin, that of master of arts. In the winter of 1760, he engaged at Drury-lane with Mr. Garrick, on certain shares. He also represented Horatio, in the “Fair Penitent,” and John, in “King John,” to Mr. Garrick’s Lothario and Faulconbridge; and some characters, such as Hamlet and Richard, they each played with little difference as to the bulk of their audiences. This union, though favourable to both parties, was soon brought to an end. The marked approbation of his majesty to Mr. Sheridan’s King John, excited the jealousy of Mr. Garrick, who would not suffer the play to be afterwards performed. Differences ensued between them, meetings of frinnds followed, but without effect, and they parted with mutual signs of animosity. Ia the year 1760, King George the Second died; and with a new reign, under a young monarch, who loved the arts, and professed to encourage them, every person who had {519} any pretensions to genius, expected both notice and encouragement. Among these, Mr. Sheridan, who was on terms of intimacy with several in the confidence of the new sovereign, was not without his particular expectations, in which he was not altogether disappointed. He was one of the first to whom a pension was granted: and it was frequently his boast, that through his suggestion Dr. Johnson was offered the independence which he afterwards enjoyed from his majesty’s bounty. This honour has, however, been claimed by another gentleman, and each of them may have been entitled to it. It will not be thought very surprising, that on such an occasion two persons without any communication with each other, should think of and recommend the same person. For the two or three succeeding years, Mr. Sheridan was employed in delivering his lectures in different parts of the kingdom. His lectures were generally approved, though they sustained some slight injury from the ridicule of Mr. Foote, who produced a burlesque on them in 1762, at the theatre in the Haymarket.

In 1763, Mrs. Sheridan’s comedy, “The Discovery,” was performed at Drury-lane, in which Mr. Sheridan represented Lord Medway, though he had no engagement at the theatre; for which the proprietors allowed him the sixteenth night. About 1764, he went to France, and took up his residence at Blois, by order of his majesty, as it has been asserted. During his residence at this place he lost his wife, who died there on the 26th of September, 1766. Mr. Sheridan did not continue long in France after this event; and about the year 1767, he obtained an Irish act of parliament, protecting him from arrests on account of his debts in Dublin, amounting to £1,600 and having this season saved £800 he gave notice that he was ready to pay his creditors ten shillings in the pound, and desired them to call on him for that purpose, with an account of their respective demands. Mr. Faulkner, the printer of “The Dublin Journal” was one of his creditors. - This gentleman told Mr. Sheridan that he would not trouble {520} him with his demand till he dined with him: Mr.Sheridan accordingly called at Mr. Faulkner’s; and after dinner Mr. Faulkner put a sealed paper into his hand, which he told him contained his demand, at the same time requesting Mr. Sheridan to examine it at his leisure at home: when he came home, he found, under seal, a bond of his for £200 due to Mr. Faulkner, cancelled, together with a receipt in full of a book debt to the extent of £100. This was a man whom Mr. Foote held up to ridicule!

His next public appearance was in 1769, when he exhibited at the Haymarket an entertainment of reading, singing, and music, which he called “An Attic Evening Entertainment”; and in the summer of the same year he resumed his profession of an actor, by performing at the Haymarket the characters of Hamlet, Richard III, Brutus, and Othello. In 1770, he was engaged again at the same theatre; and in 1776, he acted several nights at Covent garden. After this he never performed again as an actor. The retirement of Mr. Garrick from the stage, in the year 1776, opened a new scene to Mr. Sheridan. The purchasers of the share in Drury-lane theatre, of which Mr. Richard Brinsley Sheridan was one, agreed to invest Mr. Sheridan with the powers of a manager, for which office his experience, his abilities, and integrity, well qualified him. He entered upon the office with a determination to reform some abuses which had crept in, and particularly such as had arisen from the caprice of several favourite actresses. In this pursuit, however, he found himself counteracted; when, disdaining to continue in his post on such ignominious terms, he relinquished his situation, after holding it about three years.

The theatres being shut against him as a performer, he now returned to his literary avocations. He also read at Hickford’s rooms, at Coachmakers’ Hall, and in the spring of 1785, at Freemasons’ Hall, in conjunction with Mr. Henderson. This was his last public exhibition. The next year he visited Ireland, and during his residence there he found his health decline, and in hopes of re-esta{521}blishing it, he came to England, and went to Margate, intending from thence, if he found no amendment, to proceed to Lisbon. A short time, however, shewed that he was past recovery. His strength gradually failed, and he died August 14, 1788. His corpse was interred at Margate. He produced a farce called “Captain O’Blonder,” which was written while a school-boy, and the copy lost. It was afterwards collected by some persons from memory, and frequently performed; but never, as Mr. Sheridan used to declare, with his consent. He altered “Romeo and Juliet,” “The Loyal Lovers,” &c.