Born in 1721, at Quilca, in Ireland, and was educated at Westminster School, and at Trinity College, Dublin. In 1742 he went upon the stage, and gained much celebrity as a tragedian, both in his native country and in England. He became manager of the Dublin company; but being ruined by the opposition of a rival theatre and by riots in his own, he relinquished the profession, commenced as a lecturer on elocution, and for a time was very successful. During the ministry of Lord Bute, he obtained a pension of £200. He subsequently became manager of Drury Lane Theatre; but some disputes taking place, he retired, and resumed his attention to oratory. His principal works are his “Dictionary of the English Language,” and a “Life of Swift.” Died, 1788.
| His action’s always strong, but sometimes such | |
| That Candour must declare he acts too much. | |
| Why must Impatience fall three paces back? | |
| Why paces three return to the attack? | |
| Why is the right leg, too, forbid to stir, | |
| Unless in motion semicircular? | |
| Why must the Hero with the Nailor vie, | |
| And hurl the close-clench’d fist at nose or eye? | |
| In Royal John, with Philip angry grown, | |
| I thought he would have knock’d poor Davies down. | |
| Inhuman tyrant! was it not a shame, | |
| To fright a king so harmless and so tame? | |
| But, spite of all defects, his glories rise; | |
| And Art, by Judgment form’d, with Nature vies; | |
| Behold him sound the depths of Hubert’s soul, | |
| Whilst in his own contending passions roll; | |
| View the whole scene, with critic judgment scan, | |
| And then deny him merit if you can, | |
| Where he falls short, ’tis Nature’s fault alone; | |
| Where he succeeds, the Merit’s all his own. |
A pension of two hundred pounds a year had been given to Sheridan. Johnson, who, as has been already mentioned, thought slightingly of Sheridan’s art, upon hearing that he was also pensioned, exclaimed: “What! have they given him a pension? Then it is time for me to give up mine!”… Johnson complained that a man who disliked him repeated his sarcasm to Mr. Sheridan, without telling him what followed, which was that after a pause he added: “However, I am glad that Mr. Sheridan has a pension, for he is a very good man.” Sheridan could never forgive this hasty, contemptuous expression. It rankled in his mind; and though I informed him of all that Johnson said, and that he would be very glad to meet him amicably, he positively declined repeated offers which I made, and once went off abruptly from a house where he and I were engaged to dine, because he was told that Dr. Johnson was to be there…. This rupture with Sheridan deprived Johnson of one of his most agreeable resources for amusement in his lonely evenings, for Sheridan’s well informed, animated and bustling mind never suffered conversation to stagnate, and Mrs. Sheridan was a most agreeable companion to an intellectual man.
His appearance on the boards of Smock Alley Theatre on the 29 January, 1743, in the character of Richard III., caused considerable sensation in the town. He was in the twenty-third year of his age; his appearance was handsome, his voice mellow and expressive, and his débût was a decided success. He next played Othello, Hamlet, Cato and Brutus, and his acting gained so rapidly on the town that he became the rage; his name was on all men’s lips.
Mr. Sheridan kept a tight hand over his children. He was a strict disciplinarian, and he managed his household as sternly as he did a theatre. He exacted unquestioning obedience from those dependent upon him, while he took great offence if his superiors required submission from him. He “poured lava,” as he said, upon those who had offended him. He was very methodical and precise in all his ways. He had morning prayers regularly, and on Sunday evenings he either commented on the sermon of the day or expounded a passage in the Bible. He was fond of Dr. Johnson’s “Ramblers,” and his daughters were often wearied and disheartened with the task of reading them aloud, because he was exacting with regard to enunciation and cadence, and careful in correcting what he deemed their faults of speech.
General
“Unpretending mediocrity is good, and genius is glorious; but the weak flavor of genius in a person essentially common is detestable,” so the Autocrat of the Breakfast-Table tells us; and although Thomas Sheridan cannot fairly be called a person essentially common, yet it is not to be denied that he had but a weak flavor of genius.
