INTRODUCTION.

THERE are few prominent plays in the literature of the world which contain so many traces of the condition and of the adventures of their author as does The Rivals. Without being directly autobiographical, it is coloured from prologue to epilogue by the personal history of the brilliant young fellow who wrote it, and without reminding ourselves what were the events through which he had lately passed, we fail to appreciate half the touches in it. He had lately been a part of the sham chivalry and the sham romance of which he made such immortal fun, and the impressions of the absurdities of life were fresh upon his memory when he wrote The Rivals. He had been twenty years of age when he eloped with Elizabeth Linley, exactly as Lydia Languish hoped to fly with her Beverley. He had been twentyone when he fought two ridiculous duels, which were evidently in his mind when he invented the inimitable scenes in the fifth act of the play. He had suffered "inexpressible torments," and had indulged in "sheets of unintelligible rhapsody." At the house of Mrs. Miller in Bath he had met with pretension and incongruity and fashionable flutter enough to rig out a dozen Mrs. Malaprops. He had poured verses into the celebrated vase, dressed with pink ribbons and myrtles, which crowned the fair of Parnassus at Bath Easton. Throughout his tumultuous, absurd, romantic youth, Sheridan had seemed to be rather acting than observing, but his keen eyes were open to the world of folly, and he was still but twenty-three when he sat down to write this immortal picture of it all.

As early as 1771, and before the elopement, he had proposed to himself to write a comedy. He was full of literary ambition, but the path which he ought to

take was slow to reveal itself. The elopement, the secret marriage, the scandals at Bath, the tremendous duels, interrupted the development of literature, for who has time or wish to write comedy if he is actively engaged in making it? At last, when quietly settled with his hardly-won St. Cecilia in the London house in Orchard Street, early in October 1774, he sat down to write a comedy for Covent Garden. He did this at the request of Harris, the manager, who had doubtless been struck by the theatrical genius of Sheridan's mind and by his wonderful aptitude for conversation. On the 17th of November, only six weeks after his setting to work on it, the new comedy was already in rehearsal. Harris and his friends, as Sheridan informs his father, 66 assure me in the most flattering terms that there is not a doubt of its success," and that the dramatist may depend on £600 profit at the very least. It was very characteristic of Sheridan thus to count his chickens before the eggs were hatched, and his confidence was the more rash because several interesting and carefullywritten plays had quite lately been damned by the capricious public. On the 17th of January 1775, his comedy was at length acted at Covent Garden Theatre, and met, we are told, "with very harsh treatment.' The audience, however, seemed rather captious than hostile, and it must be confessed that their objections were fairly founded. The Rivals is still a long play; on the first night it was double the length of any acting drama, and the public made no concealment of their extreme fatigue. Moreover, the part of Sir Lucius O'Trigger, which requires great vigour, was so feebly and ineffectively acted by John Lee, as to call down upon him "shouts of disapprobation." The result was somewhat extraordinary in the history of the theatre. The Rivals was immediately withdrawn, after the first representation, but not, as might be supposed, to be consigned to oblivion or to the provinces. With his admirable good sense, and rapidity of action, Sheridan set himself to correct whatever the public had disliked. First and foremost he removed a blemish which Harris,

if not he, should have perceived in rehearsal; the excessive length of the piece. He cut it down ruthlessly and adroitly to the quite sufficient proportions with which we are now familiar. Then there were certain passages which seemed generally disliked by the firstnight audience. Nine authors out of ten would have said that these were the particular beauties of the play. Sheridan was above all things a man of the world, and he gratified the public by an instant admission that "if I felt any emotion of surprise at the disapprobation [of these passages], it was not that they were disapproved of, but that I had not before perceived that they deserved it." Out they all went. The audience had disapproved of John Lee, who was perhaps too old for the part of Sir Lucius O'Trigger; it was taken from him and given to Clinch, a less-known but younger actor, who played it with magnificent Irish verve.

The revival of the comedy took place eleven days later, and this time the whole strength of Covent Garden was concentrated on it. Edward Shuter was tempestuous in Sir Anthony Absolute; old Henry Woodward, a veteran favourite with the public, made up as a surprisingly gallant Captain Absolute; John Quick, who had been the original Tony Lumpkin, was now the original Bob Acres; while "Gentleman Lewis acted the melancholy, whimsical Faulkland to the life. The women were no less ably chosen. Miss Barsanti played Lydia Languish; delightful Mrs. Green, Mrs. Malaprop; whilst perhaps the greatest success of all was achieved by Mrs. Bulkley as Julia. On the second representation the success of the play was assured, and since that night it has never ceased to be a prime favourite with English audiences. It ran at Covent Garden for sixteen nights. Early in February, Sheridan took the play to Bath, then considered a "theatrical tribunal, though not in quantity, in quality as good as that of London." Miss Linley (quoted by Mr. Fraser Rae) says of the actors on the first Bath night, "I suppose the poor creatures never acted with such shouts of applause in their life I never saw or

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