СНАР.
IV.

1777.

In gardens oft a beauteous flow'r there grows,
By vulgar eyes unnotic'd and unseen;

In sweet security it humbly blows,

And rears its purple head to deck the green.

This flow'r, as nature's poet sweetly sings,

Was once milk-white, and heart's ease was its name;
Till wanton Cupid pois'd his roseate wings,
A vestal's sacred bosom to inflame.

With treacherous aim the god his arrow drew,
Which she with icy coldness did repel ;
Rebounding thence with feathery speed he flew,
Till on this lonely flow'r at last it fell.

Heart's ease no more the wandering shepherds found,
No more the nymphs its snowy form possess,
Its white now chang'd to purple by Love's wound,
Heart's ease no more, 'tis 'Love in Idleness.'

This flow'r, with sweet-brier join'd, shall thee adorn,
'Sweet Jessie, fairest 'mid ten thousand fair!

'But guard thy gentle bosom from the thorn,
Which, tho' conceal'd, the sweet-brier still must
bear.

And place not Love, tho' idle, in thy breast,
'Tho' bright its hues, it boasts no other charm
'So may thy future days be ever blest,

'And friendship's calmer joys thy bosom warm!'

But where does Laura pass her lonely hours?
Does she still haunt the grot and willow-tree?
Shall Silvio from his wreath of various flow'rs

Neglect to cull one simple sweet for thee?

Ah Laura, no,' the constant Silvio cries,

For thee a never-fading wreath I'll twine, Though bright the rose, its bloom too swiftly flies, 'No emblem meet for love so true as mine.

For thee, my love, the myrtle, ever-green,

Shall every year its blossoms sweet disclose, Which when our spring of youth no more is seen, 'Shall still appear more lovely than the rose.'

Forgive, dear youth,' the happy Laura said,

'Forgive each doubt, each fondly anxious fear, 'Which from my heart for ever now is fled —

Thy love and truth, thus tried, are doubly dear.

• With pain I mark'd the various passions rise,

When beauty so divine before thee mov'd; • With trembling doubt beheld thy wandering eyes, For still I fear'd; alas! because I lov'd.

Each anxious doubt shall Laura now forego,

No more regret those joys so lately known, • Conscious that tho' thy breast to all may glow, Thy faithful heart shall beat for her alone.

Then, Silvio, seize again thy tuneful lyre,

Nor yet sweet Beauty's pow'r forbear to praise;

Again let charms divine thy strains inspire,

And Laura's voice shall aid the poet's lays.''

СНАР.
IV.

1777.

CHAP. V.

THE SCHOOL FOR SCANDAL.

V.

1777.

CHAP. MR. SHERIDAN was now approaching the summit of his dramatic fame; he had already produced the best opera in the language, and there now remained for him the glory of writing also the best comedy. As this species of composition seems, more, perhaps, than any other, to require that knowledge of human nature and the world which experience alone can give, it seems not a little extraordinary that nearly all our first-rate comedies should have been the productions of very young men. Those of Congreve were all written before he was fiveand-twenty. Farquhar produced The Constant Couple in his two-and-twentieth year, and died at thirty. Vanbrugh was a young ensign when he sketched out The Relapse and The Provoked Wife, and Sheridan crowned his reputation with The School for Scandal at six-and-twenty.

It is, perhaps, still more remarkable to find, as in the instance before us, that works which,

V.

1777.

at this period of life, we might suppose to have CHAP. been the rapid offspring of a careless, but vigorous fancy, anticipating the results of experience by a sort of second-sight inspiration, should, on the contrary, have been the slow result of many and doubtful experiments, gradually unfolding beauties unforeseen even by him who produced them, and arriving, at length, step by step, at perfection. That such was the tardy process by which The School for Scandal was produced, will appear from the first sketches of its plan and dialogue, which I am here enabled to lay before the reader, and which cannot fail to interest deeply all those who take delight in tracing the alchemy of genius, and in watching the first slow workings of the menstruum, out of which its finest transmutations arise.

Genius," says Buffon, "is Patience;" or, (as another French writer has explained his thought,)"La Patience cherche, et le Génie trouve ;" and there is little doubt that to the co-operation of these two powers all the brighest inventions of this world are owing; - that Patience must first explore the depths where the pearl lies hid, before Genius brings it up full into light.

boldly dives and

There are, it is true, some striking exceptions to this rule; and our own times have witnessed more than one extraordinary intellect, whose depth has not

V.

1777.

CHAP. prevented their treasures from lying ever ready within reach. But the records of Immortality furnish few such instances; and all we know of the works, that she has hitherto marked with her seal, sufficiently authorises the general position, that nothing great and durable has ever been produced with ease, and that Labour is the parent of all the lasting wonders of this world, whether in verse or stone, whether poetry or pyramids.

The first Sketch of The School for Scandal that occurs was written, I am inclined to think, before The Rivals, or at least very soon after it; -and that it was his original intention to satirise some of the gossips of Bath appears from the title under which I find noted down, as follows, the very first hints, probably, that suggested themselves for the dialogue.

"She is a constant attendant at church, and very frequently takes Dr. M'Brawn home with her.

"Mr. Worthy is very good to the girl; - for my part, I dare swear he has no ill intention.

"What! Major Wesley's Miss Montague?

"Lud, ma'am, the match is certainly broke - no creature knows the cause; some say a flaw in the lady's character, and others, in the gentleman's fortune..