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_.