Mrs. Sheridan’s maiden name was Eliza Anne Linley. There is an interesting notice of her in Fanny’s “Early Diary” for the month of April, 1773. “Can I speak of music, and not mention Miss Linley? The town has rung of no other name this month. Miss Linley is daughter to a musician of Bath, a very sour, ill-bred, severe, and selfish man. She is believed to be very romantic; she has long been very celebrated for her singing, though never, till within this month, has she been in London. .
112
She has long been attached to a Mr. Sheridan, a young man of great talents, and very well spoken of, whom it is expected she will speedily marry. She has performed this Lent at the Oratorio of Drury-lane, under Mr. Stanley’s direction. The applause and admiration she has met with, can only be compared to what is given Mr. Garrick. The whole town seems distracted about her. Every other diversion is forsaken. Miss Linley alone engrosses all eyes, ears, hearts.”
The “young man of great talents” was, when Fanny first met him, already renowned as the author of “The Rivals” and “The School for Scandal.” His wife’s extraordinary beauty has been perpetuated in one of Reynolds’s masterpieces, in which she is represented as St. Cecilia, sitting at an organ. Her father seems to have fully deserved the character which Fanny gives him. In 1772 Eliza, then only nineteen, ran away to France with young Sheridan, who was just of age, and, it is reported, was privately married to him at the time. They were pursued, however, by old Linley, and Eliza was brought back, to become the rage of the town as a singer. Her lover married her openly in April, 1773, and thenceforward she sang no more in public.
Fanny’s account of her visits to Tunbridge Wells and Brighton will recall, to readers of her novels, the delightfully humorous descriptions of the society at those fashionable resorts, in “Camilla” and “The Wanderer.” Mount Ephraim, at Tunbridge Wells, where Sophy Streatfield resided, will be recognized as the scene of the accident in which Camilla’s life is saved by Sir Sedley Clarendel.-Ed.]
A queer adventure.
St. Martin’s Street, January.
On Thursday, I had another adventure, and one that has made me grin ever since. A gentleman inquiring for my father, was asked into the parlour. The then inhabitants were only my mother and me. In entered a square old gentleman, well-wigged, formal, grave and important. He seated himself. My mother asked if he had any message for my father? “No, none.” Then he regarded me with a certain dry kind of attention for some time; after which, turning suddenly to my mother, he demanded,