was persuaded by her eloquent and dexterous
brother to lend money for the travelling expenses,
to pack the trunks, and to aid the escape. "At
last," says Miss Linley, in her narrative,
"Sheridan came with two chairs, and having
put me half fainting into one, and my trunks
into another, I was carried to a coach that
waited in Walcot-street. Sheridan had engaged
the wife of one of his servants to go with me
as a maid without my knowledge. You may
imagine how pleased I was with his delicate
behaviour." The sedan-chair, with its precious
burden, was carried off while Mr. Linley, his
eldest son, and Maria Linley were busy at a
concert, from appearing at which the fair Cecilia
herself had only been excused by her illness.
She was conveyed from her father's house, in
the Crescent, to a post-chaise which waited for
them in the London road. They reached the
metropolis at nine o'clock the next morning.

Charles Lamb has left on record (though he
makes several extraordinary mistakes in his
short narration) that the young couple, on
arriving in the great smoky bewildering city, took
refuge at Lamb's godfather's, an oilman, at the
Holborn end of Featherstone-buildings. He
was a tall-grown pompous person, friendly with
John Palmer, the comedian. Lamb's father
and mother were there, playing at quadrille,
when the pair arrived. With a humorous adroitness,
which was, at least, very dramatic, Sheridan
introduced Miss Linley to an old friend
of his family (Mr. Ewart, a respectable
brandy-merchant in the City) as a rich heiress who
had consented to elope with him to the
Continent; in consequence of which the old gentleman,
with many commendations of Sheridan's
wisdom for having given up the imprudent
pursuit of Miss Linley, not only accommodated
the fugitives with a passage on board a ship
which he had ready to sail from the port of
London to Dunkirk, but gave them letters of
recommendation to his correspondents at that
place, who with the same zeal and despatch
facilitated their journey to Lille. Miss Linley
had, on her arrival in France, changed her name
to Harley. On leaving Dunkirk, Sheridan at once
threw away his temporary character of the chivalrous
and platonic protector, and changed into the
ardent, devoted, and irresistible lover. He soon
convinced his fair charge, who listened not
unwillingly to his arguments, that it was impossible
for her to ever return to England unsullied
but as his wife. There was then still truth and
honour in the world, and the love of a brave
and honest man was the only consolation left to
her lacerated heart. At the latter end of March,
1772, they were married at a little village not
far from Calais by a priest as well known as the
blacksmith at Gretna-green for his indifference
as to how he obtained his fees. At Lille they
abandoned all intention of going to St. Quentin,
Sheridan meeting an old schoolfellow, who
introduced them to the amiable family of Dr. Dolman,
who procured Miss Linley an apartment in
a convent, after attending her through a short
illness produced by fatigue and agitation of mind.

The selfish and unwise father soon arrived,
hot, flurried, and angry, chiefly anxious that his
rash daughter should fulfil some engagements he
had made for her at the ensuing musical festivals.
The strict honour of Sheridan's conduct
being soon explained, and a promise made that
Miss Linley should in a few weeks return to
the quiet convent at Lille, the whole party
returned amicably to England. The honourable
swindler had, in the mean time, written a
perfectly cool, innocent sort of letter to his
deluded brother Charles, whom Sheridan's landlord
had already roused to the disagreeable and
startling truth. The quietly contented lover
said: "Though you may have been ignorant
for some time of our proceedings, you never
could have been uneasy lest anything should
tempt me to depart, even in a thought, from
the honour and consistency which engaged me
at first. I wrote to M. (Matthews) above a
week ago, which, I think, was necessary and
right. I hope he has acted the only proper
part which was left him; and, to speak from
my feelings, I cannot but say that I shall be
very happy to find no further disagreeable
consequences pursuing him; for, as Brutus says
of Caesar, &c. I must stop this moment, or I
shall lose the post."

Rushing off to Bath, Charles Sheridan found
Mathews stark mad with chagrin and hurt vanity,
furiously listening in impotent rage, at the
Linleys' house, to all the particulars of the bold
flight which had so completely defeated his
scoundrelly designs. In his vexation, he let fall
some imprudent charges against the victorious
Esau, who had made such a fool of them both,
and those hasty words the bad and mean man
stored up as future missiles against his enemy.
"For the four or five weeks," says Tom Moore,
"during which the young couple were absent,
he never ceased to haunt the Sheridan family
with inquiries, rumours, and other disturbing
visitations; and at length, urged on by the
restlessness of revenge, inserted the following
violent advertisement in the Bath Chronicle:

"Wednesday, April 8, 1772.

"' Mr. Richard S. having attempted, in a
letter left behind him for that purpose, to
account for his scandalous method of running
away from this place, by insinuations
derogating from my character and that of a young
lady, innocent as far as relates to me or my
knowledge; since which he has taken no notice
of letters, or even informed his own family of
the place where he has hid himself; I can no
longer think he deserves the character of a
gentleman, and shall therefore trouble myself
no further about him than, in this public
method, to post him as a L . . . . and a
treacherous S . . . .

"' And as I am convinced there have been
many malevolent incendiaries concerned in the
propagation of this infamous lie, if any of them,
unprotected by age, infirmities, or profession,
will dare to acknowledge the part they have
acted, and affirm to what they have said of me,