The Malapropism: A word by any other name

It's my pleasure to welcome Renée Reynolds with a post on malapropisms!

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The Malpropism: A word by any other name

Comic Relief via Malapropism

For some reason, two things always show up whenever I write a new book: Shakespeare and humor.  Having an English teacher grandmother and librarian aunt, and descending from a long line of sarcastic savants, likely made manifestation of these traits inevitable.  I select a line or two from the Bard's works as introductions to each chapter in my novels, to (hopefully) help set the scene for the coming action.  I also infuse my stories with humor; if you are supposed to write what you know, then my laughter, teasing, and joke-filled life makes this inevitable.  As such, my lead characters tend to be wry observers, situational comics, and able practitioners of bon mots.

While conceiving the general outline for my Lords of Oxford Series, I knew book three, Earl Crazy, would be a bit different from the others.  The heroine is the sister of the series-arcing villain, and has had a sadly difficult, even abusive life.  Lady Margaret Stansbury needed a hero, but she also needed to find strength within herself to let go of the past and let her wounds heal.  I decided her hero, the Earl of Aylesford, would find the solution to his difficulties in Lady Margaret.  He is completely put upon - swamped by his duties as a peer,  his duties to his family, and his duties to the future of the earldom.  He needed a heroine.

But lest the story be all melodrama and difficulty, some Shakespearean comic relief was necessary, and what better form could comedy take than that of the Earl's great-aunt.  A great-aunt that refused to act her age or station at the most inconvenient of times, making it harder and harder to have patience with, and care for her, both as a lady and his elder.

To inject levity and just the right level of absurdity, the Earl's great-aunt required some endearing quirks.  Not only does Lady Hester Prendergast have a penchant for brandishing weapons at social events – only when she needs to slice her cheese or trim a dragging string, mind you – she also has a tendency to ask others for escort to tobacconists and brewers, despite her nephew's decree to the contrary.  To give her that extra je ne sais quoi, Lady Hester also speaks sincerely and earnestly the most ludicrous – and sometimes inappropriate – things.  Her speech is as eccentric as her dress.  She is an expert wielder of the malapropism.

Malpropism (noun, 1826), from Mrs. Malaprop, a character in Richard Sheridan's play “The Rivals” (1775).  Mrs. Malaprop was noted for her ridiculous misuse of large words; her name was coined from the French mal à propos, meaning badly suited to the purpose.

For example (emphases mine):

“Sir, you overpower me with good breeding.  He is the very pine-apple of politeness!”  (Act III, Scene iii)

“I hope you will represent her to the captain as an object not altogether illegible.” (Act I)

“Why, murder's the matter!  Slaughter's the matter!  Killing's the matter!  But he can tell you the perpendiculars.”  (Act V, Scene i)

In other words, Mrs. Malaprop said one thing while meaning another.  But she was not the first literary icon to skewer the King's English with malapropism.  Although the term arose from the Sheridan play, its practice had been in use long before.  For inspiration I turned to my favored Shakespeare, and a favored play: Much Ado About Nothing.  In fact, malapropism can be referred to as a Dogberryism, in honor of that most supreme of loveable fools, the Chief of Police of Messina, Dogberry.

“Marry, sir, I would have some confidence with you that decerns you dearly.”  (Act III, Scene iv)

“It pleases your worship to say so, but we are the poor duke's officers; but truly, for mine own part, if I were as tedious as a king, I could find it in my heart to bestow it all of your worship.”  (Act III, Scene v)

“One word, sir: our watch, sir, have indeed comprehended two auspicious persons, and we would have them this morning examined before your worship.”  (Act III, Scene v)

With such rich examples to emulate, it's no wonder I felt compelled that great-aunt Hester should wander into this method of speech.  Her usually unintentional misuse of a word or phrase brings amusement, and usually smothered laughs, to each conversation she attends. Her malapropisms come at just the right time in the story, a touch of frivolity whenever the situation seems far too serious to be borne.

Some of her memorable pronouncements:

“My dearest girl, you must cease allowing yourself to be used as a prawn by your brother.”

“Allow me to play the devil's addle-wit for a moment and examine this problem from all sides.”

“Surely it is time for the gong.  I am positively ravishing!”

“Let me state the oblivious and say this man – nay, this vermin – must needs be dealt with once and for all!”

So while the main theme of Earl Crazy is the mutual redemption of two struggling souls who find strength and succor in each other, the difficulties faced by Lady Margaret do provide inspiration for my lovely Dogberry to make her laughable declarations.  It is my hope that Lady Hester provides just the right amount of silliness with a touch of folly to be a lovely edition (wink-wink) to the story.

About the Book

What Tobias Kitteridge knows about women could fit into the tip of a thimble.  His life since the age of sixteen has been a steady stream of lessons toward becoming the Earl of Aylesford; ten years on, he finds himself standing on the precipice of losing his mind over solving his most pressing problems of a chaotic house and amok relatives.  His closest friends vow the answer to all his problems can be found in the acquisition of a wife.  But when women are the biggest mystery of all, just how is he to acquire one of his own?

What Lady Margaret Stansbury knows about men can be summed up in three words: Never Trust One.  Her life since the age of sixteen has been grief, disappointment, and neglect, with physical torment from her brother thrown lately into the mix.  When her brother the Viscount moves them to London, she expects only a continuation of her misery.  Instead she finds friends and a measure of freedom for the first time in her life.  Unfortunately, these friends think the answer to her problems can be found in the acquisition of a husband.  But when men are the sole source of heartache, why would she want to acquire one of her own?

When two of the unlikeliest of people form the most unlikeliest of unions, only the most unlikeliest of results can occur: true love.

Pleases watch for Earl Crazy, book three in The Lords of Oxford series, available FREE this August.

An Excerpt

“Lady Margaret!”

“My lord,” she replied with the briefest of curtsies.  He opened his mouth to reply but she continued.  “I'm afraid we have trespassed on your family's time too long.  Pray excuse us.”  Her gaze remained fixed somewhere over his left shoulder.

“No, that is, I didn't mean--” he stammered as she moved past him to the doorway.

“Lady Ashford, I will call for the carriage and await you in the hall.  Lady Hester.  Lady Aylesford,” she curtsied, and far deeper this time.  “Thank you both for a lovely afternoon.  I very much enjoyed the conversation and seed cake.”  And with that, Lady Margaret left without ever once looking his direction.

Lady Ashford turned in her seat to glare at him, lips pursed.  He received no better from his aunt and he knew the tirade was soon to erupt from his grandmother.  She rose from her chair and slowly crossed the room to stare him down despite the considerable difference in their heights.

“Tobias Wymond Kitteridge, you will go into that hall and beg forgiveness for your appalling lack of decorum and senseless blustering.”  He opened his mouth only to snap it shut as her hand shot out to pinch and twist the skin at his wrist.  This has been her method to get his attention since he was in leading strings.  It still worked.  “Not another word in this room until you have gotten yourself back into the good graces of the sweetest, kindest girl your aunt and I have ever met.  She deserved none of that philippic – none of us did – and you will remedy this immediately.”

Aylesford knew better than to open his mouth, even in apology, and she showed him her back before a look of contrition could even appear on his face.  She continued declaring her displeasure to the other side of the room.

“I should box his ears.  What a nursery-room tantrum, and from a grown man.  A peer of the realm!  An earl!  Stuff and nonsense!” she carried on as she moved to take the seat previously occupied by Lady Margaret.

Lady Margaret!

He spun on his heel and stepped quickly to the hall in time to see his butler escort the lady down the front steps.  Their carriage had yet to arrive, but from her posture and his butler's solicitude, he knew that Lady Margaret determined to put as much distance between herself and . . . him.  He glanced back toward the drawing room and made the only viable decision: retreat and regroup.  It was past time to address the root of the problem or, more likely, the roots.  He quietly moved toward the rear of the house, crossed the terrace, stole through the garden, and scaled his own wall to sneak away from further judgment awaiting him inside.

It was time to find his closest friends, the men he would hitherto have given his life for, but for now to be known as the men he would most like to kill for their bird-witted schemes and tricks.

About the Author

Renée Reynolds grew up all over the world in a family whose motto is you can never learn too much, travel too much, or talk too much.  She owns a stack of degrees that she completely ignores in favor of writing about what she cannot do: go back in time to dance at balls, and flirt with lords and scoundrels.

Renée found her HEA in Texas, where she resides with the hubs, the kiddos, and a menagerie of pets (here there be chickens!). She's since added to the family motto: you can never read too much, too often, or too late at night.

Website - http://obstinateheadstronggirl.wordpress.com/

Facebook - https://www.facebook.com/reneereynoldsauthor

Twitter - https://twitter.com/eenayray

 Written content of his post copyright © Renée Reynolds, 2015.

"Death's a debt": The Death of Richard Brinsley Butler Sheridan

Richard Brinsley Butler Sheridan (Dublin, Ireland, 30th October 1751 – London, England, 7th July 1816)

Richard Brinsley Sheridan by Sir Joshua Reynolds

It is no secret that one of my Georgian idols is Richard Brinsley Sheridan, a theatrical legend of the long 18th century. Last year I told the story of Sheridan's eventful life and we made a second stop on Drury Lane to witness the fire that consumed the theatre where Sheridan had reigned. Today is the anniversary of Sheridan's death and it seemed only right to mark this sad occasion, Sheridan's final days spent in penury and unhappiness.

Whether as a playwright, politician or theatre impresario, Sheridan lived his life to the full. He never did things by halves and gambled or spent money whether he had it or not but, eventually, this spending was destined to catch up on him.

On 24th February 1809, fire took hold of the Theatre Royal Drury Lane and razed the entire building to the ground. With the theatre insured for vastly less than it was worth, the blaze proved financially catastrophic for Sheridan and things got worse three years later when he lost his parliamentary seat, more than thirty years after he began his career at Westminster. Though his creditors were closing in, when Congress offered him £20,000 to thank him for his political efforts to avert the War of Independence whilst in office, Sheridan proudly turned down the money and sank even deeper into debt.

At home things were far from settled as Sheridan's adored second wife, Esther Jane Ogle, grew ill with cancer and Sheridan's own health failed. As Esther grew weaker, Sheridan took to his bed and died in poverty, a shadow of the man he had once been. Sheridan received a hugely impressive funeral ceremony and was buried in the Poets' Corner of Westminster Abbey; among his mourners were some of the most illustrious names in London.

Fire at the Theatre Royal, Drury Lane

The theatre in the Georgian era was a bustling, vibrant place. Scandalous, exciting and truly entertaining, it was not without its risks. In 1809 the Theatre Royal Covent Garden burned to the ground and debris from the fire very nearly took its Drury Lane counterpart with it. Luckily, on this occasion, disaster was averted and no doubt those involved in the theatre breathed a sigh of relief. However, fate was not done with the theatre, and fire would once again come to Drury Lane.

The Theatre Royal, Drury Lane had opened in 1794 and, mindful of the risk of fire that was ever present in Georgian theatre, it is little wonder that its owner,  Richard Brinsley Sheridan, took precautions against such disasters. Water tanks were installed above the auditorium and an iron safety curtain was erected, leaving the builder, Henry Holland, confident that no conflagration could occur.

The fire at the Theatre Royal, Drury Lane, seen from Westminster Bridge, 1809

Unfortunately, well-laid plans rarely turn out as expected and on 24th February 1809, fire took hold of the Theatre Royal. Sheridan was in the House of Commons as the flames rose higher at his playhouse and when the House adjourned in response to reports of the catastrophe, he objected to this interruption of matters of public importance, believing that parliamentary business should take precedence.  

Nevertheless, upon leaving the Commons he went straight to Drury Lane and there watched his theatre burn. With no hope of saving the building he enjoyed a glass of port in the company of a friend, commenting as he sipped his drink that he should be "allowed to take a glass of wine by his own fireside." The fire ruined Sheridan, sending him spiralling deeper and deeper into debts from which he would never escape.

The Bittersweet Life of Thomas Linley the Elder

Thomas Linley the Elder (Badminton, Gloucestershire, England, 17th January 1733 – Bath, Somerset, England, 19th November 1795)

Thomas Linley the Elder by Sir Thomas Gainsborough

We are back in the theatre today to meet a man who enjoyed professional successes even as his life was touched by tragedy. Conductor, composer and theatrical impresario, it is a pleasure to welcome Thomas Linley the Elder to the salon.

Linley was born into a privileged family and his early love of and talent for music was plain from an early age. Recognising that he had a natural aptitude for music, they sent the young man to study in Bath, where he eventually became a concert promoter and conductor. 

He made an excellent living as a composer and maestro in the fashionable city and married Mary Johnson, with whom he had 12 children. Seven of these would go on to musical careers of their own and one daughter in particular would provide her father with opportunities for business advancement.

We have previously met the somewhat characterful Richard Brinsley Sheridan and in 1770 he cropped up in the life of Linley as suitor to the composer's 16 year old daughter daughter and operatic soprano, Elizabeth. She was a particular favourite at the concerts given by her father but was not enjoying the attentions of a rather too persistant suitor, Thomas Mathews, and it was decided that she would shelter in a French convent until Mathews could be convinced to seek amusement elsewhere. Sheridan accompanied Elizabeth to Lille but, after an unhappy start to her time in France, Linley travelled to the country to fetch her back to England. Finally, after duels and heartache, Sheridan and Elizabeth were wed in 1773.

Linley collaborated with his son-in-law theatrically, producing songs for The Duenna, premiered in 1776, and providing madrigals and musical accompaniment for other works written by Sheridan and his contemporaries. Even when the play might have been somewhat substandard, Linley's compositions saw audiences flocking to attend the theatre and he soon looked deeper into theatrical opportunities. With Sheridan and James Ford, Linley took on a half share in the management of Drury Lane Theatre and the trio would increase this to total management within two years.

However, 1778 was not to be a year of unbridled successes and tragedy struck when his 22 year old son, Thomas Linley the Younger, died in a boating accident. The younger man had been working as a composer on Drury Lane productions and the death of the enormously talented young man understandably devastated the the Linley family, as well as the company at Drury Lane. The loss of Linley echoed through the musical world and shook his father, who nevertheless enjoyed a successful career until his own death in 1795.

Joseph Grimaldi, A Legendary Clown

Joseph Grimaldi (London, England, 18th December 1778 – London, England, 31st May 1837)

Joseph Grimaldi by John Cawse

Those of you who suffer from coulrophobia look away now, as today we welcome a giant of English comedy, the legendary clown and performer, Joseph Grimaldi. Grimaldi's story is so full of highs and lows that it will take more than one day to tell it, so today I present the first part of Grimaldi's life and his rise to stardom, with more on this celebrated comic performer to come later!

Grimaldi was the latest in a long line of theatricals to bear the name, each noted for their comic and acrobatic or dancing skills. Indeed, when his Italian great-grandfather arrived in England he set his dental practice aside to concentrate on the stage, setting the standard for the Grimaldis who would follow. Our hero's father was Joseph Giuseppe Grimaldi, a noted actor and dancer and his mother, Rebecca Brooker, had been apprenticed to him as a young teen. Although he was almost five decades her senior, she became his mistress and bore him two sons, one of whom was Joseph.

Grimaldi made his stage debut at the age of two when he appeared at Drury Lane, gaining excellent notices just one year later as Little Clown in The Triumph of Mirth; or, Harlequin's Wedding at Sadler's Wells. Audiences were charmed by the bright little boy and Richard Brinsley Sheridan happily added him to the roster of child performers to whom he gave regular repeat bookings at Drury Lane. He consolidated this success by appearing numerous times on the stage of Sadler's Wells and by the age of six, he was considered a very safe pair of hands.

A short foray into education at Mr Ford's Academy did little to stop the boy's meteoric rise and Grimaldi went from strength to strength until his career was staggered by a personal tragedy. In 1788 Grimaldi's father died, leaving the child responsible for his family, who had grown accustomed to an upscale lifestyle. Despite his success the little boy could not afford to keep his mother and brother in their Holborn home and the family eventually moved to the rookery of St Giles, with his brother, John Baptiste, going away to sea at just nine years old. 

When Kemble took over as producer Drury Lane  in 1788, Grimaldi continued at the theatre and began to learn the backstage crafts of scene building and design. However, without his father's guiding hand the boy's career began to slump. He laboured in lesser roles as the years passed until a 1794 performance in Valentine and Orson brought him back to the public eye. Once again the audience took this young performer to their hearts and his reputation was cemented when the 11 year old Grimaldi took the role of Pierrot  in a pantomime version of Robinson Crusoe.

Grimaldi met Maria, the daughter of Richard Hughes, proprietor of Sadler's Wells Theatre, in 1796 and the couple began a devoted courtship, eventually marrying three years later. Grimaldi was now a star and he would go on to become a theatrical legend, even if some of his personal behaviour was just a little strange. That, though, is a story for later.

Debt, Debauchery and Decadence: King George IV

George Augustus Frederick (London, England, 12th August 1762 – Windsor, England, 26th June 1830) 

King George IV by Sir Thomas Lawrence, 1816

It's no secret that we Gilflurts like a bit of extravagance and today we'll meet a man who knew what opulence was all about. Given the popularity of his Coronation, it seemed only right that we revisit King George IV, affectionately known to we Gin Laners as Prinny, and wish him a very happy birthday!

Before the caricatures and the debts and the women, George was born as the oldest of George III and Charlotte of Mecklenburg-Strelitz's fifteen children. From the moment of his birth at St James's Palace the young Prince of Wales would know the best of everything and by the time the Archbishop of Canterbury, Thomas Secker, baptised him, he was already Prince of Wales, Duke of Cornwall, Duke of Rothesay and Earl of Chester.

King George IV by Richard Cosway

Whereas his father had relatively modest tastes, George developed a taste for the finer things in life and, even as his subjects endured poverty, the young prince's habits grew more and more profligate. At the age of 21 he moved into Carlton House with a £60,000 living grant from Parliament and an income of £50,000 courtesy of the King and set up home for himself, beginning what would be a wild and extravagant time. With a third of his money ploughed into his stables alone, the Prince lived as though cash was no object, throwing enormous parties, gambling and, of course, entertaining ladies. His father was mortified by the behaviour of the heir to the throne and the Prince surrounded himself with hangers-on who bowed to his every wish whilst at the same time using him to further their own influence.

Not long after he began to live his independent life, George met the twice-widowed Roman Catholic, Maria Fitzherbert and decided there and then that this would be the woman he would marry. In fact, the 1701 Act of Settlement ruled that no heir to the throne could be crowned if married to a Roman Catholic and the 1772 Royal Marriages Act prohibited any marriage without the consent of the King, but Prinny was not one to let such things stand in his way. He pursued Mrs Fitzherbert tirelessly, beginning the tradition of the lover's eye into the bargain. 

In fact, the lady concerned was considerably less enthused by the whole idea for a good long while but George's wit and charm paid off in the end and on 15th December 1785, an illegal marriage took place in the bride's home at Park Street, Mayfair. The marriage was not legally binding and all involved parties were sworn to secrecy; though the Prince and Mrs Fitzherbert's love affair would prove a rocky one, she always considered herself his true wife.

Maria Fitzherbert by Sir Joshua Reynolds

In fact, the secret wedding was soon anything but as, utterly drowning in debt, George left Carlton House in 1787 and moved into Park Street whilst trying to negotiate a further financial grant from Parliament. Despite the King's distaste at his son's close ties to Charles James Fox, the Whig leader brokered a deal with the Prince, securing him the money he needed in return for a public denial of the marriage to the Catholic widow. In dire straits, George agreed and though the public denial was rewritten in less stark terms by Richard Brinsley Sheridan, the damage was done. Mrs Fitzherbert was furious at what she saw as a betrayal and was very likely glad to put some space between herself and her lover, who moved back into Carlton House nearly £170,000 better off. 

All of this was, of course, a public relations disaster and he sank in the public's affection to a new low. In 1788 as the King grew increasingly mentally disturbed, Parliament found itself stuck in something of a vicious circle; King George was too ill to deliver his State Opening Speech and yet the Commons could not officially sit until the speech had been given. With the King showing no sign of recovery, the Members of Parliament met to discuss the possibility of establishing a Regency. Although a Regency Bill was created by Pitt, the King recovered before it was passed and the Prince's first opportunity for power slipped away.

Caroline of Brunswick by James Lonsdale, 1821

Despite his enormous payout in 1787, George was soon spending beyond his means again and this time, the conditions of the bail out went even further. Financial aid would be forthcoming once more, but only if  George would consent to marry his cousin, Princess Caroline of Brunswick. With no other likely options and his debts mounting, George agreed and the wedding took place on 8th April 1795. The pair hated one another almost from the outset and once their child, Charlotte was born, they parted company within a year of their wedding day. Besides, George had little time for a wife, he was kept busy with his many mistresses and the illegitimate children they bore him, let alone building up piles of new debt!

Princess Charlotte by George Dawe, 1817

George's life remained one of extravagance, debt and scandal and he became a figure of fun in England, thought things must have seemed slightly less amusing when, in 1810, the King fell ill again. This time the groundwork had already been laid two decades earlier and the Regency Act was passed in 1811, with the Prince of Wales now being known as the Prince Regent. The Regent's once left-wing political interests were moving increasingly to the right and he fell under the influence of ambitious ministers who guided the country through the Napoleonic Wars, among other notable events. When the Prince did directly involve himself in politics the outcomes were not always favourable, such as his disastrous attempts to assemble an all party government. Far more to our hero's liking were aesthetic pursuits and he considered himself a leader of fashion, championing much of the Regency clothing and building style that we recognise today.

Brighton Pavilion

Working with John Nash, George presided over architectural developments including Regent Street and the famous Brighton Pavilion, which reflect perfectly his own taste for grand and exotic styles. As the years passed the once handsome young man grew corpulent, caricatured as a crass, indulgent boor; he developed a taste for drink and laudanum that caused his health to deteriorate even as his extravagant lifestyle continued unabated. Although little liked by the public, when George III died in 1820 the Regent's magnificent Coronation ushered in a new sense of patriotism among the people of England and he enjoyed a period of affection from his subjects. The public had long been sympathetic to his estranged wife, yet her efforts to enter Westminster Abbey and be crowned alongside her husband were to prove a public relations disaster and the crowd turned on her, leaving her humiliated. Retiring to her home in despair, she was dead within a month.

Loyal Addresses and Radical Petitions by George Cruikshank, 1819

The new King retired to Windsor Castle, his love of parties and socialising giving way to an interest in political matters, though he continued to correspond with Mrs Fitzherbert even as he supported anti-Catholic measures in parliament. His health continued to fail and by the age of 60, he was wearing corsets intended to confine a 50-inch waist, his weight ballooning out of control. He died in the early hours of 26th June 1830 and his last words, reported by the friend who was with him at the moment of his demise were, "my boy, this is death." He was buried at Windsor wearing the eye miniature Mrs Fitzherbert had sent him during their courtship and she died 8 years later, still maintaining that she was the first and rightful wife of the late King.

King George IV by Sir Thomas Lawrence, 1822

George's only child, Princess Charlotte, predeceased her father by 13 years and the next heir to the throne, Prince Frederick, predeceased him by three years so the crown was taken by William, Duke of Clarence. England had seen its last King George and William IV took his place on the throne. In death George was mocked and loathed as he had been for so much of his life with The Times reporting his death and asking, "What eye has wept for him? What heart has heaved one throb of unmercenary sorrow? ". For all his failings as a man, and they were numerous, one cannot deny that Prinny had an eye for the aesthetic and was, by all accounts, a witty, charming and intelligent man. His influence on the style and architecture of the Regency era is unquestionable; indeed, Buckingham Palace owes its appearance to his sense of design. He was a man of contradictions and one who was not easy to like but he continues to fascinate and frustrate today - happy birthday Prinny!

Life in the Georgian Court, true tales of 18th century royalty, is available at the links below.

Pen and Sword
Amazon UK
Amazon US
Book Depository (free worldwide shipping)

"The very pineapple of politeness!": Richard Brinsley Sheridan

Richard Brinsley Butler Sheridan (Dublin, Ireland, 30th October 1751 – London, England, 7th July 1816)

"...the very pineapple of politeness!" 

Sheridan by Sir Joshua Reynolds

As a lady who likes nothing more than a night at the theatre, I love a little Sheridan. The man behind such works as The School for Scandal, The Rivals and The Critic was as colourful as his plays, a wit and raconteur whose plays are still enjoyed nearly two centuries after his death.

The son of parents who were steeped in both the arts and academia, Sheridan was not a man who shied away from scandal and when I was a young Gilflurt in 1772 I recall him fighting a fearsome duel right here on Henrietta Street. At the Castle Tavern, not three doors from where I host my weekly salons, Sheridan and Captain Thomas Mathews fought over the honour of Elizabeth Linley, Sheridan's intended bride and daughter of Richard Linley. The duel went onto a second round in Bath and Sheridan was almost killed but the lady's name was defended and our playwright made a miracle recovery! He and Elizabeth were wed, returning to London to live the high life on her dowry until, in 1775, Sheridan's play, The Rivals, made him an overnight star. By 1778 he owned the controlling stake in the Drury Lane Theatre and he used it as a base for productions of the plays that followed, enjoying enormous success. 

Sheridan wasn't satisfied with life as a theatrical luminary and embarked on a second career as a Whig Member of Parliament. Noted for his powerful speeches and witty ad-libs in the House, he eventually served as Treasurer of the Navy and would remain a radical figure in Parliament for 32 years, serving three different constituencies until he finally lost his seat in 1812. Three years previously his theatre had burned down and, already financially stretched by this disaster, things became progressively worse for our hero.

As a girl who keeps a tight hand on her purse string I've never got myself into money trouble but Sheridan wasn't quite so lucky. He liked the high life and it came at a price and though Congress offered him £20,000 to thank him for his political efforts to avert the War of Independence whilst in office, he proudly turned down the money and sank further and further into debt.

Sheridan died in poverty in 1816, leaving behind a body of work that has rightly seen him celebrated as one of the greatest names of English drama. His internment in Poets' Corner at Westminster Abbey was attended by some of the grandest figures in the country and his coffin was borne to its final rest by the Lord Bishop of London and Earl Spencer, amongst other illustrious names.

Two hundred years after his death, theatres worldwide still ring to the sounds of Mrs Malaprop and Lady Sneerwell, the comedy as timeless as the name of the man who created it.