ise. And on the very
same night, and at the very same time, when the gifted Celt was
thundering justice to India into the ears of Englishmen, his _School for
Scandal_, one of the best comedies on the British stage, was being acted
in one theatre, and his _Duenna_, one of its best operas, was being
performed in another.

Sheridan died in 1816, a victim to intemperance, for which he had not
even the excuse of misfortune. Had not his besetting sin degraded and
incapacitated him, it is probable he would have been prime-minister on
the death of Fox. At the early age of forty he was a confirmed drunkard.
The master mind which had led a senate, was clouded over by the fumes of
an accursed spirit; the brilliant eyes that had captivated a million
hearts, were dimmed and bloodshot; the once noble brain, which had used
its hundred gifts with equal success and ability, was deprived of all
power of acting; the tongue, whose potent spell had entranced thousands,
was scarcely able to articulate. Alas, and a thousand times alas! that
man can thus mar his Maker's work, and stamp ruin and wretchedness where
a wealth of mental power had been given to reign supreme.

Goldsmith's father was a Protestant clergyman. The poet was born at
Pallas, in the county Longford. After a series of adventures, not always
to his credit, and sundry wanderings on the Continent in the most
extreme poverty, he settled in London. Here he met with considerable
success as an author, and enjoyed the society of the first literary men
of the day. After the first and inevitable struggles of a poor author,
had he possessed even half as much talent for business as capacity for
intellectual effort, he might soon have obtained a competency by his
pen; but, unfortunately, though he was not seriously addicted to
intemperance, his convivial habits, and his attraction for the gaming
table, soon scattered his hard-won earnings. His "knack of hoping,"
however, helped him through life. He died on the 4th April, 1774. His
last words were sad indeed, in whatever sense they may be taken. He was
suffering from fever, but his devoted medical attendant, Doctor Norton,
perceiving his pulse to be unusually high even under such circumstances,
asked, "Is your mind at ease?" "No, it is not," was Goldsmith's sad
reply; and these were the last words he uttered.

[Illustration: GOLDSMITH'S MILL AT AUBURN]

[Illustration: BANTRY BAY--SCENE OF THE LANDING OF THE FRENCH.]

FOOTNOTES:

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