then have confessed that a man can be great without the classics--nay,
without even a decent English education, for Sheridan knew comparatively
little of history and literature, certainly less than the men against
whom he was pitted or whose powers he emulated. He has been known to say
to his friends, when asked to take part with them on some important
question, 'You know I'm an ignoramus--instruct me and I'll do my best.'
He had even to rub up his arithmetic when he thought he had some chance
of being made Chancellor of the Exchequer; but, perhaps, many a
statesman before and after him has done as much as that.

No wonder that after such a speech in the House, the celebrated trial
which commenced in the beginning of the following year should have
roused the attention of the whole nation. The proceedings opened in
Westminster Hall, the noblest room in England, on the 13th of February,
1788. The Queen and four of her daughters were seated in the Duke of
Newcastle's box; the Prince of Wales walked in at the head of a hundred
and fifty peers of the realm. The spectacle was imposing enough. But the
trial proceeded slowly for some months, and it was not till the 3rd of
June that Sheridan rose to make his second great speech on this subject.

The excitement was then at its highest. Two-thirds of the peers with the
peeresses and their daughters were present, and the whole of the vast
hall was crowded to excess. The sun shone in brightly to light up the
gloomy building, and the whole scene was splendid. Such was the
enthusiasm that people paid _fifty guineas_ for a ticket to hear the
first orator of his day, for such he then was. The actor's son felt the
enlivening influence of a full audience. He had been long preparing for
this moment, and he threw into his speech all the theatrical effect of
which he had studied much and inherited more. He spoke for many hours on
the 3rd, 5th, and 6th, and concluded with these words: